Archive for March, 2015

Post #149 – The Good And Bad About The Ugliest Birthday Yet

Posted in Family, humor, marriage, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on March 9, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

Much to my unhappiness, I turned the big 5-0 last month.  On my 40th, though there were black balloons on the wall of my cubicle at Yabinski and Kramer law firm where I worked at the time as well as a gigantic HAPPY 40TH banner behind my desk, that particular birthday didn’t bother me at all. But that half century mark is another story. However, I decided to make a list to measure the gloom and doom vs the positives…

GOOD: My boys are in their 20s now, so I no longer have to worry about child care/missing work because of sick children and all that.

BAD: I woke up yesterday with a silver hair nestled among the dark brown in my eyebrows. I plucked it out straight away, but I’m sure there’s another one just worming its way to the surface as we speak. And I hate coloring my hair, so forget dyeing the brows!

GOOD: I’m much more comfortable being alone these days. Until the age of 30-something, the idea of spending a Friday night at home, curled up with a good book or binge-watching Downton Abbey or Supernatural, would’ve driven me to madness and/or pacing about/ calling everyone I knew trying to scare up something else to do.

But these days, when my husband’s band is playing out of town, and I don’t feel like drudging through the snow or whatever to attend his gig, I welcome those nights on the couch sans company because PRECIOUS is all mine!!! 🙂 And by my Precious, I mean the television remote, not a gold ring that summons demons from the darkness.

Additionally, I lived alone from the time I was 18 until I got married at 22, and I was often terrified to spend the night alone for fear someone would break in my apartment and attack me, etc. In fact, I used to put a row of juice glasses on a chair under my bedroom window and another set on the floor by the front door so that the sound of shattering glass would wake me should an intruder breach either entrance.

But these days, I sleep like the dead when Charlie’s not home. I have faith in God/the ghost of Max’s Dad/Saint Superman, whatever, that no harm will come to me. Either way, my worrying about a home invasion isn’t going to prevent some psycho from barging into my house in the wee hours. I just lock the doors and make sure my phone is plugged in. Plus, Max (my 22-year-old) is always home way before Charlie returns, and he’s a pretty scary-looking/well-muscled fellow, who is capable of causing major damage to anyone who might try to mess with his Mama…:)

That said…

MORE BAD:  I can’t exercise the way I used to because my knees swell up after 40 minutes or so, and I have to ice them all the time. And I’ve developed issues with the balls of my feet. Sometimes a couple of hours after a good workout, I’ll get up from my desk/couch/whatever, and that tender padded part of my foot will turn to to a lumpy stone of pain.

And the last time we went to Vegas, I couldn’t walk the usual 10 or so miles/day without agonizing foot pain…which totally SUCKS because one of the reasons I love Vegas is being able to walk/ride the monorail wherever we want without a car, unlike here in Ohio where a night on the town w/no vehicle would mean dinner at Taco Bell and bowling at best because our public transit is almost nonexistent.

My foot issues limited our treks to 4 or 5 miles/day at most. I remember limping in absolute misery from the nearest monorail stop on the strip back to our timeshare, which was about a mile. I was barefoot across the asphalt, sandals in hand, because the hard sole of my favorite dressy flip flops were killing me.

GOOD: On the other hand, the last time I took a spinning class about six months ago, the two overweight 20-somethings sweating profusely in front of me left 20 minutes in while I actually spent 10 minutes or so on the treadmill afterward to make sure I’d obliterated the doughnut I’d had earlier…:)). And I’m no waif these days at 160+ pounds.

BAD: Though I can obviously best kids half my age at the gym, I have to do a lot more cardio to work off the occasional pastry or that gallon of Merlot I consumed last weekend (okay, so maybe, t’was only 1/2 a liter) due to the slowing down of one’s metabolism after the age of 40/45…sigh. And it’s just not worth having rotten teeth if opting for crystal meth instead of Splenda in my tea…:)

GOOD: Charlie is almost six years younger than me, but there have been times in the last 4-5 years that I’ve gotten carded at a bar or a restaurant, and he wasn’t, LOL. Perhaps, the waiter was merely flirting, hoping for a big tip, but the last time, the waiter honestly seemed surprised when he looked at my i.d and figured out I was pushing 50.

BAD: I’ve been getting solicitations from AARP (the American Association of Retired Persons) for at least five years now, which I find irritating and insulting. I realize they will gladly take your money and indoctrinate you into their discount fold at the age of 50. But to me, I feel like screaming, I AM NOWHERE NEAR RETIREMENT AGE, so FUCK OFF.

GOOD: I like what I like, and I don’t give a shit if anyone disapproves. Some might say I’m too old to listen to Eminem or Kid Rock or Iggy Azalea, but I have CDs of each in my car. And on that note, as my family knows all too well, I’m a major fan of Slim Shady. I own all of his music, but, I’m not overtly in love with his last 2 musical endeavors. And I was surprised the MM LP 2 won a Grammy for Album of the Year. I think the Eminem Show and Recovery are much better.

I will also wear skinny jeans, short skirts and tennis shoes until I’m physically unable to dress myself. In which case, I’m not gonna ask anyone to help me slide into a pair of Old Navy Rock Star Super Skinny denims.

Oh, and last but not least, I shall put Spaghettios on bread (funny story about that in  http://tenaciousbitch.com/2013/04/29/lovehonor-and-will-buy-ford/ ) and lick the bowl after finishing my vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup until the day I die, so all you haters and uptight sons ‘o bitches, just keep your yap shut should you happen to see me doing either one! 🙂

GOOD: I don’t have to go back to high school again no matter how many times I have that nightmare that I’m late for class/a final exam, and no one believes me that I’ve traveled this treacherous road already and DON’T need to be there, LOL. I know, right?  WTF is that about???

Therefore, I guess the ugliest b’day to date came out on top – can’t think of any other negatives.

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

TB\ks

 

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Post #148 – The Toilet Promise from the Kitchen Bitch…

Posted in Family, family drama, Food and beverages, humor, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 4, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

Like many women, I got tired of constantly being put upon to do shit tons of housework that I shouldn’t be doing because, well, the men in my house don’t always clean up after themselves, so I posted this note above the sink in the kitchen a few days ago…which I did TYPE, btw.

GUYS –

 The dishwasher is dirty! PLEASE LOAD your dishes. Please do me the courtesy of not ignoring this request. And I mean EVERY single dish that you use whether it’s only a bowl or a cup. It all adds up. And when I do the dishes in the morning, and the sink is EMPTY, and I go downstairs at dinnertime, and the sink is bulging with dirty dishes – like so…

DAMNED DISHES FEB 18 11It really pisses me off! And that’s exactly how it happens—a bowl here, a skillet there, a couple of plastic containers, and POOF – 20 or 30 minutes have been added to my daily chores.

I realize you both help out a lot with the dishes and such. However, I spend anywhere from 15-30 hours/week cleaning, which I’m sure you didn’t realize because I do most of it while you’re asleep, or you’re not here. Last Friday, for example, I spent 2 hours doing laundry and doing dishes, vacuuming, sweeping the floor and dusting. And I would greatly appreciate it if the two able-bodied men in this household would not add to the HOURS I spend cleaning by loading your own dishes! 🙂 It doesn’t take that long!!!!!

Therefore, from now on, if you leave your dishes in the sink for me to load, it will be with the understanding that you’ll clean both the downstairs bathrooms in exchange. And I realize that often there are dishes that need to soak, and that’s fine, but PLEASE load them before DINNER, so, again, I won’t have such a monstrous mess after dinner because it frequently takes me an hour to get the kitchen cleaned up, and if you both loaded your own dishes—that wouldn’t be the case. And if you spill your drink, or get a dab of mayo, or ketchup or something on the counter, PLEASE CLEAN IT UP as well. I’m not your maid, so please stop treating me like one.

THANKS for all your help as always! 🙂 🙂 

 Love,

The Kitchen Bitch

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

*And isn’t that just the loveliest, most condescending smile?

And my son Max’s reaction? He was “tired of doing everyone else’s work”.

?? Excuse me, but I don’t think bringing you into this world means I’m required to wash your dishes and do your laundry once you reach the age of say 13/14, and he’s now 22 – YES, TWENTY TWO!  WTF? And this was after my husband, Charlie, had spent FOUR days helping Max, clean his room. Then, Charlie spent four more days washing Max’s clothes while Max finished cleaning his room, which I opposed, btw. I thought Max should launder his own frickin’ togs. And this is the mess that’s been in the hallway since Max’s room was cleaned 3 weeks ago. However, the mattress was thrown away, thankfully, and the computer monitor disappeared. Otherwise, I don’t know if the rest of it is to be given away, or what.

JAN - FEB 2015 088JAN - FEB 2015 089JAN - FEB 2015 090

So since Charlie helped clean his room and did his laundry, how is it he’s doing everyone else’s work?

Perhaps, because Max unloads the dishwasher more than I do? But he doesn’t vacuum, scour his bathroom or either of the bathrooms downstairs, which he also uses. He’s never dusted or mopped the kitchen or the tile by the front door. He doesn’t sweep the kitchen floor with a broom if he spills 1/3 a package of Ramen noodles or macaroni or something, nor does he put his shoes or coat away unless I harass him. And when Charlie does the laundry, Max’s clothes might sit on the back of the couch for weeks before he finally takes them upstairs – except for times when he decides he’ll wear a shirt or two from the pile.

Therefore…once again, dude, explain how you’re doing everyone else’s work cuz I guess I’m just not smart enough to see the correlation here. On the flip side, he did unload the dishwasher without my asking a couple days later. So, perhaps, he was merely grandstanding/spouting off out of guilt?

However, regardless of what he thinks, I am SOOOOOO going to keep to my promise about him and Charlie both cleaning toilets if they dare leave dirty dishes in the sink when the dishwasher is empty or DIRTY…Just so we’re clear.

Over and out,

A rather FED UP, PISSED OFF, ready to stomp her little feet and kick some ass –

~KITCHEN BITCH~

TenaciousB’s cousin, doncha know…:)

TB/ks/kb

P.S. MUCH OF THE HALLWAY DEBRIS HAS BEEN REMOVED! Apparently, the clothing in the hamper under the balls (as in a basketball and a football) was slotted to be given away. So, they’ve now found a new home at our local Volunteers of America donation center! YIPPEE!!

Post #147 – Update on the job debacle…

Posted in humor, memoir, narrative memoir, nonfiction, true stories with tags , , , , , , , , on March 4, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

Soooooo – after getting fingerprinted again on the 19th for this job at Mega Bank, mentioned previously @     http://tenaciousbitch.com/2015/02/19/post-146-perhaps-i-shall-execute-it-in-blood/

I heard back from Lisa, the recruiter, last Wednesday, February 25, my birthday no less, that my background check had come back “clear”. Of course, it did. I don’t even jaywalk or chew gum in public (or behind closed doors for that matter). And the only thing that might’ve come up on my drug screen would’ve been an excess of Splenda.

HOWEVER, no start date had yet to be proffered as promised. So, should I just show up when I feel like it? The unwanted house guest to corporate hell, or consult a psychic who might could glean the date from my crazy Aunt Doreen whose known to lurk about the vale just hoping a clairvoyant might holler her way?

“But they sent information on your Teleo login for their timekeeping program, so we should have a start date here in a day or two.”

OR TWO? Really? You gotta stop snacking on crack, Lisa, cuz it’s not good for your health, much less what might happen if you got tapped for a random drug test.

That said, let’s review the math, again, shall we? I was offered this job on FEBRUARY FOURTH, 21 days prior to the date that the results of my 2nd BCI check were finally emailed to Lisa. But Mega Bank still hasn’t provided the date I’ll begin training for this job that I didn’t interview for? This job with its very vague job description, having something to do with reviewing mortgage application paperwork.

HOW FUCKING FANTASTIC.

That said, ask me how many days transpire before I’m finally given a new hire date? Not one or two days. Not four or five days. Six LONG days after my nonexistent rap sheet went zinging through cyberspace and landed upon Lisa’s computer.

As of Day Four, I had pretty much given up and had started furiously applying for alternative employment like mad for fear that once my background finally came back, the job quota would be filled or something.

However, I did receive an email from Lisa last Friday that the hiring manager at Mega had been out of the office for the last two days, and she assumed she’d hear from Mega on Monday. NOT. So. Much. Monday came and went, marked by radio silence.

Then, I decided to take a little break from my manic job search yesterday by walking to a nearby convenience store to get a Diet Pepsi because I was completely out. We were experiencing a record high of 36 degrees (WOO HOO), and the Weather Channel said it wasn’t going to rain until around 1-1:30, but like all the intel I’ve been privy to lately, t’was not the case. It started drizzling the moment I stepped off my front porch around 12:05 PM and turned into full-blown rain five minutes later. But I had an umbrella, so it was okay.

I was 10 feet from my front door when my phone rang.

“I have start date for you,” Lisa said tentatively.

“And?”

“March 23rd.”

Once again, this mental phrase bounced about my brain – ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? I shook my head and sighed.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear,” Lisa said apologetically.

“No, not really,” I said, pausing to gather my thoughts. Now that my husband is working, and he just got his first check…”That’ll be okay, especially since I think everything is finally straightened out with unemployment, and I should get a check this week.”

“Okay. Good. I’m really sorry it’s taken so long. And I really appreciate your patience and understanding-”

The hell with my patience. I need a fucking paycheck, and so far Mega is the only offer on the table. However, as of March 23, it will have been 47 days since I was offered this job, which is absolutely ludicrous especially since I’m really not crazy about commuting the 20+ miles to Mega – right through downtown, which is always a nightmare during rush hour, and the pay rate isn’t as high as the other jobs that I’ve pursued.

Deep down, I’m glad to have the time to blog and to work on the memoir I’ve been chipping away at for two years, but I dread telling my husband that I might be short on my Visa next month. I’d rather chop off my right hand than ask Charlie to make that payment, but I may not have a choice.

On the plus side, hopefully, Mother Nature will have ceased dumping snow across the Midwest by 3/23.

And funny thing, 29 years ago on March 23, I married Rory’s Dad, a decision that changed my life forever, and also a union that ended horribly. Not that I have any regrets since I got an AWESOME kid out of the deal, but still…weird coincidence, n’est-ce pas?

And, of course, now that my new employment digs have been wrapped up with an officious start date, I’ve been offered 2 other jobs, one of which is only 10 minutes from my house…sigh.

But…it is what it is. I need this stupid paycheck. Here’s hoping that this new endeavor I’ll be embarking upon in 19 days will be a life-altering event of the opposite persuasion from 29 years ago, i.e. a GOOD THING.

Over and out from INSANITY CENTRAL…

~TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies

TB/ks