Is this any less annoying than the Gangsta Name Generator?
Planning a comeback. Check back soon!
Is this any less annoying than the Gangsta Name Generator?
Planning a comeback. Check back soon!
Remember to let yourself relax this Labor Day before letting yourself go this winter!
Have fun & be safe!
Yesterday, ‘job-with-added-responsibilities’ turned into job wherein I was told that I now have 17 direct reports [That’s 17 people that REPORT. DIRECTLY. TO ME.] So, heading home last night armed with that knowledge, coupled with various action items I was given to do but didn’t exactly know how to & wrapped in a sensation of being swept downstream in a swift moving current – also while wearing lead undies – I am not ashamed to tell y’all that I went home & my shit fell apart. And by fell apart I mean that I ate a bowl of cereal for dinner & instructed my family that if they wanted sustenance & nourishment that they should do the same. If they wanted to. It was ultimately their decision. Then I flopped down on the couch & proceeded to fall directly asleep. I’m talking the kind of sleep wherein you answer questions like a crazy person straight out of your everloving head. And you frighten the children.
H: “Honey, have you fed the dogs yet?”
L: “Clogs been shed yet?”
H: “Dogs been fed yet?”
L: “I want you to go to bed now.”
H: “I’ll take that as a NO.”
So, I was completely incoherent on the couch until 1:20 a.m. before finally dragging off to bed. And once there, I started thinking. About work. And ‘job-with-added-responsibilities’. And 17 direct reports. And I couldn’t fall back to sleep for what seemed like all the minutes that ever were. But then I did. And for another 4 hours I enjoyed sweet slumber. With no thoughts of work. Zzzzzzzz. Yeah, but then I woke up.
[Cut to ‘job-with-added-responsibilities’]
I had just gotten in & was sitting in my office dreading all that lay before me when my lovely friend Holly came in all, “You look very pretty today.” [Just … awwwwww!] And proceeded to toss a purple envelope at me. “What’s thi…?” “Hey, where are you goi… ?” “Um, ok.” And with that she was gone.
I opened the purple envelope. It was a card. JUST FOR ME! And it said,
“My Guide to a Happy Life
Pursue a passion.
Enjoy the simple things.
Have a wonderful friend like you.”
With a warm, personal sentiment about how glad she is that we’re friends!
Aw, you guys! Just … honestly. Wasn’t that so nice. Seriously?! WASN’T THAT NICE? I don’t deserve her! She is all rocking and kick ass and good looking and wise. And also TIMELY. It was just what I needed & I appreciated it so much.
So in conclusion, a little bit of friendship goes a long way. Go show some friend love today. To me if you want! And thanks, H for making my day.
Here’s the scoop:
1. I am alive.
2. Thank you for asking.
3. Things were very busy.
4. Oh, wait. They still are.
That’s … pretty much it. Hello.
Me = Being consumed whole by new job and lots of other activities, but
Me = Still loves you. Really.
You = Patient. And also,
You = Good looking. Did you get a haircut? Is that a new shirt? Because
You = One sexy beast. I’m just saying.
Anyway. Y’ALL. This new job? The one I haven’t told you about yet. The one where I am when I go to work in the morning? It is really BUSY. They want a lot of this “work” business, and apparently it will calm down soon, once I learn what the heck I am doing, but right now I am hoping someone will just show up and KILL ME ALREADY because Hoo Boy. Ow, with all the work and learning. It hurts my head.
I’m only human, Boss People. I know I look capable; that is an illusion! In reality, I don’t have the faintest idea of what I am doing! Shh!
But … uh. I couldn’t allow that last post to remain for one minute more, so here I am [Hi!] typing drivel.
Because I love you. So it’s loving drivel. Don’t hate me today. I JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT.
Okay, see, there was this thing? And then there was this other thing, and the net result of all of these things, and all of the SHEER PANIC and TERROR inspired by these things, and then, there was this:
I’m taking on a new role at work.
See how I said that? Taking on a new role? I’m wondering if that accurately conveys how I’m not just changing roles, but in ADDITION to the role I already have, I am “absorbing” a whole NEW role? One that another human being used to do. As their job. Like, as their ONLY job. But now I’ll be doing it, on top of the one I already have. See that? Two jobs at once. And contrary to how I seem to be freaking-the-heck out about it. I AM happy about this! Wheeeeee! [See? Happy.] I had even verbalized before how if I had to have another job, this would be the one I’d want to have. But I will admit that I am suffering from a harsh case of lack of confidence in my own abilities, I have concerns people. Everyone else is completely confident in me. Thanks. You’re sweet.
I’ll let you know how that’s going.
And also, there has been the perpetual stream of evenings [occasionally even followed by some early mornings] parking cars at the ATP Tennis Tournament. This is a requirement of the Mish kids & their parents [the acting group Ashton is in]. They make a lot of money from it. It’s a good cause. I keep telling myself that. Anyway, the ATP tennis tournaments, wherein I have been berated, yelled at, shot the stink-eye, and I’m also pretty sure one lady told me to blow something out of somewhere. Because she wasn’t handicapped and I was working the handicap lot and apparently I take my job very seriously.
On another occasion I was working the golf lot [which means making sure that if someone pulls in there that they are, in fact, golfing & not walking over to the tennis tournament. It’s the principle, people.] So a man pulled in and I’m all, “Good morning sir, what are you here for?” [NOTE: Do NOT ask them if they’re golfing, because, y’all, PEOPLE LIE!] So he’s all, “YES, is that ok with yooooooou?” “Um, yes. [jerk] But, if you’re golfing, how come you don’t have on a collared shirt?” A-HA! SUCK IT! I’M A GOLF LOT GENIUS! “I’m going to put it on after I shower. Ohhhhhh,kkkkkkkkk?” <blink> “Ohhhhhh,kkkkkkkkk”, I responded. And then, cinching up his face as if he’d just got a whiff of a dirty diaper filled with Indian food he went, “Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!” <blink blink> “Well, you have a good day sir. And also, I hope for your sake that you walk in with clubs or you’re getting towed. Have a nice day.” <smile>
Did I mention that we’re leaving on Sunday for vacation? Are. Which will also entail getting our very bad dogs to the vet to be kenneled, except for Buster Brown, who is fortunate enough to be spending the week with my dear friend Holly & her girls. He’s being evaluated for adoptability so he’s been given instructions to “turn on the charm”. There will be a hefty price to pay for bad behavior. He’s been warned [wink].
Working, learning, parking, shopping, delivering, planning and packing. What in the heck am I doing on the computer!?
Once I have mastered ADDITIONAL ROLE ABSORBTION, completed infinity hours of parking cars & survive family travel, they should probably name a holiday after me, and I think we should all take it right now, no matter where we live and whether or not we like Andy Griffith, I think we should look past our little differences and just take a nap.
Anyway. I love you. And I will be back in a few days, with something interestinger. Hugs!
… is that they have no sense of humor.
(I was actually going to name this entry “HHS 2; Electric Boogaloo,” but know what? That title was way funnier when I thought of it yesterday. Which was Tuesday. But now it is 4:55 on Wednesday, and it’s not nearly as funny anymore. And, I guess it’s possible that it wasn’t even funny to begin with except for to me, but … wait, is that Monk on HULU right now? GOTTA GO.) OH DEAR LORD, WRITE THE STORY ALREADY, WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? And this concludes my paragraph analyzing a five-word title, guess who hasn’t slept much the past few days, THANK YOU.)
But, anyway. Oh, hello! HI THERE!
So ANYWAY, Saturday was my 20 year high school class reunion [BIG UPS! Hamilton High Class of ’88!] And it was … you know. Interesting.
We went with my dear friend Kathryn, whose very own husband is right now in Kuwait serving our country [shout out to SCOTT!] The reunion was at a sort of out-of-the-way [READ: Boonies] VFW hall so Harold decided to utilize the handy-dandy GPS function on his phone. Which would prove very useful as none of us knew where the heck we were going. The phone would tell us in it’s sexy voice, “Prepare to turn left in .5 miles.” and “continue on this here country road for .4 miles.” I asked if it would tell me if I’d made a wrong turn & he assured me it would. And it did. It guided us there accurately all along the way … yeah, all the way PAST the place. We drove right by it & it said NOTHING. Likely because it saw the place & was all, “On second thought, y’all should just keep driving. You should definitely not go to that seedy place.” But it didn’t give us that warning, so we turned around & went back.
ANYWAY, after trying 3 or 4 doors that wouldn’t let us in [how the heck did everyone else get in there!] we asked some helpful smokers. OF COURSE. The door with the handwritten ‘HHS’ sign on it. At the back of the building. Right.
Inside, we stopped at the registration table to, um, register. This is also when Harold spontaneously combusted. Seriously. He burst into flames because it was like 90 degrees in there. He doesn’t tolerate heat well. Ha. And ALSO this is the exact time that a set of unidentified lips came directly at my face, landing precariously close to my mouth! [Hi, Tweeter] Fortunately subsequent meetings & greetings with friends were not so accost-y.
The good news is that I saw many fabulous friends that I haven’t seen in years and I was very happy to see them & catch up & hear how they were doing and about their families and reminiscing. That was so awesome. The bad news was: THEY DON’T SERVE WINE AT VFW HALLS. Did y’all know this? And also, martinis. No martinis. And we needed them, y’all, because YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW.
I truly thought that 20 years might maybe lend way to a little maturity. Perhaps some decorum. Some civility. And indeed, for some, it had. But now, have y’all heard about this? Because I will be happy to tell you ALL about it, namely, that it involves thong underwear, AND AN OPENED CONDOM, and also, right on the floor of the facility, and incidentally, there was a BOOB FLASHING, right in front of everyone, in front of my HUSBAND, and homemade pre-packaged Jell-o shots AND beer drinking to the tune of they ran-the-heck out[!] and people, those may be a signs of the apocalypse, right there.
So, anyway. We’re standing there, my HUSBAND, and MYSELF, gazing at the floor staring at a pair of thong underwear & a condom and thinking, “How did this happen, exactly?” and also, “Oh my heavenly GOD,” because WHAT? Holy WHY? Surely someone had to realize that suddenly … they’re commando! I never, ever want to be in the same room — nay, not even the same ZIP CODE — with a situation that leads me to ask these kind of questions. This is not RIGHT people! 20. YEARS. Because somebody was all, “You know what would be funny? Planting a pair of panties & a condom. HA! I’m a comedic GENIUS!”
You know, I could go on and on about the shenanigans that went on, but in all actuality, we had a really good time [and by “we” I probably mean “me” because let’s be honest, when you don’t know anyone — I’d say my chances of having fun were slighly higher than Harolds] Although, he really seemed to be enjoying himself when he was standing outside holding not just my BUT ALSO Kathryn’s purse and also snapping pictures of a group of clowns – [some of whom had depleted the beer!] – try to organize for a group photo before the heavens opened up, threatening to drown us all. That was probably fairly amusing to watch, so I’m thinking he enjoyed that part more than I did because I was standing in my cute new shoes which, it turns out, are more cute than comfy.
It was also pretty cool that quite a few folks told me that they read my blog. Awwww. Bless your little hearts! And then they said, ” … so if you could update more than once a month.” Ugh. I GET IT. I’ll work on that. I promise. But with things going on like, “Parent dessert night” [I’m not even kidding you guys. I’m going to that tonight!], time is scarce.
So, the class reunion was fun. I can now use the words:
in the same sentence.
And I definitely could not before I went. So look at all I got for $65!
Y’all have a good week, and I will try to find a minute and be back with some actual stories about something or other. Until then, if you’re a HHS class of ’88 alumni lurker … you need to HOLLA! Let me know if I missed anything. I really hope someone took pictures!
About you? Well, I haven’t. I’ve just been remarkably busy & unable to find the time to trot out any daily musings, helpful bits or humorous nuggets. I’m sorry. I feel so neglectful. Please don’t forget about me. You’re still my sunshine.
I can quickly tell you that I have a TON going on & I know I have stories to tell [do I ever NOT?] So, oh, ok, I know what I can do. I’ll pop on today & update when I have a spare minute or a story hits me that I need to tell y’all about! This means you’ll have to scoll down each time you visit today to see if I’ve added anything new. Oh, & if you think of something I need to share — comment & remind me. I have only had one cup of coffee, after all.
Installment #2 [2:19 p.m.]
See. I told you I’d come back! Oh, my gosh you guys I am feeling completely overwhelmed!
[Crap. I’ll be back.]
Installment #3 [3:01 p.m.]
[… and also I forgot my glasses at home today so my vision isn’t so good right now. In case you wondered why I’m squinting.]
Ok, talk fast, Layni. Someone could walk up & need something at any moment. At WORK no less. The nerve of some people. Ok. So first of all I need to mention that my 20 year high school reunion is this Saturday. 20 years y’all! When did that happen? It still seems like just yesterday that I was cruising to school in my friend Jennifer’s Camero [which, if I’m not mistaken, was ‘totally bitchin’], pegging my pants at the bottom AND wearing them at boob-level [What? That’s not slimming?], all the while marching proudly with the band. That’s how I rolled.
But, you know, it wasn’t all bad jeans and frump. I mean, frump stayed, and then somewhere along the line I decided that it would be a good idea to wear my father’s clothes. Specifically, the clothes that did not even begin to fit me, even in my imagination. So I stole pretty much all of the poor man’s dress shirts, which I then wore buttoned alllll the way to my chin. Of course, they were enormous on me, so the result was a visually unsettling triangle effect, and either the shirt ballooned around me, tentlike, or I tried to stuff eight yards of starched cotton down into my jeans, which made me look like I was pregnant in both the front and back of my body. And I remember doing this intentionally, all the time, yet as far as I know, I have never suffered a head injury. I wish I had a picture of this phenomenon.
Anyway, I’m going on Saturday to see all of my high school pals and reminisce about ‘that one time at band camp’ and whatnot. I just hope noone remembers my Hammer Pants.
Remember how I told you guys I would update all day? Well, I maybe meant another day. [Sigh] Sadly, I need to do work now. But next time [possibly this evening] I will fill y’all in on:
1.) The dangers of fireworks.
2.) How the term, “Lights. Camera. Ashton!” is seriously affecting my social life.
3.) Show you [with pictures!] how Northsiders do a parade.
Until then. Don’t you be talking about my big 80’s hair. I wasn’t alone in that.