Amazing Opportunity

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Do you have a wonderful idea for a business that would be relatively low-cost to begin but you’re just too lazy to do it? Relinquish that idea to me and watch it get placed into action! Experience the satisfaction of having someone else, desperate to do something of value in her life, become wealthy because of your creative genius! You are guaranteed not to be hassled with any of the credit or financial reward! All you have to do to get in on the ground floor of this wonderful opportunity is submit an idea in the comments section of this post that is deemed likely to succeed. I’ll then take your idea and claim it as my own!

Act fast! I’m about to lose my mind and need to take action before the insanity becomes full blown!

Dear Blog Reader,

I remember when I was content at work; when I was happy and fulfilled and felt love for others. Those days feel like they belong to the ghost of a person I am no longer.

My personal friends still kick ass. At work, there are just asses. Although I work with two or three outstanding people, many of those with whom I most interact are less than wonderful, to put it kindly. I am having a hard time dealing with attitudes that stem from imaginary emotions and judgements for acts that weren’t committed. I can’t understand behavior at these levels and I don’t know how to connect personal dislike to business.

I know where I have failed. If you’re unappealing to me, I push you out of my personal network. I, however, try to be pleasant when we have to interact and I also try to focus on the task, not you as an ass. I think most people can’t do this and are unable to comprehend that it can be done. I think most people think that if I don’t care for them personally, they are under no obligation to do their job if I’m the one making the request. That seems idiotic to me. It’s not like I go out of my way to be rude to those I don’t care for. Actually, it’s a passive opposite. I usually don’t bother you in any way- even with ‘hellos’. No need to interact until we have to, right?

I want to give you background on what I mean by unappealing so you don’t think I’m some cold, judgemental jerk. If you are so riddled with personal problems that you want to spend all of your work day discussing those problems, that is unappealing to me. If you constantly want to complain about your job, instead of just doing your job, that is unappealing to me. If you are moving on a destructive path and refuse to take action to change directions, that is unappealing. If you seek to make others look bad because you cannot perform at the same high level that they do, that is unappealing! I was once accused of treating our office’s AA like a secretary.... can you explain that to me, please? And what the fuck is wrong with being a secretary? How is that a ‘bad’ thing? I didn’t make it bad. It doesn’t seem bad to me. I. DO. NOT. UNDERSTAND.

I’ve also run into those who harbor some sort of grudge because they have had to help with a project that I was leading and their schedules did not accommodate this project. Not my problem, my fault, or my call, but I’m still the bitch in the story, somehow. I’ve sent very nice thank you emails, I’ve been very nice on the phone, and I’ve praised the job they did. All of this has been met with coldness and even a phone being slammed down on me.

Can anyone help me understand what the hell is going on? Seriously? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

It’s enough to make me lose my love for fellow man. No wonder anteaters hate us.

Indianapolis is Indianatastic!

Ok, I am probably too drunk to be posting, and I am not normally a drunk blogger...I am usually a drunk eater, a drunk sleeper and often a drunk farter, just ask Liz for verification.  But, I am currently in Indianapolis for MORE corporate, fun training time and it is a pretty cool town. 

I don’t mean that because they have the Colts, or a few “minor” car races here occasionally, but this is a cool downtown area to drink and eat. 

As someone who is prone to finding breweries, they seem to have some good ones all in a two block radius, and a wicked steak joint, St. Elmo’s, which we were first intrigued by due to the classic eighties flick or the same moniker, I really appreciate this joint.

Also it doesn’t hurt to come into a town with low expectations. 

I understand it is really difficult to comprehend that someone from Mississippi is thinking of any town as boring, but I have never really known anyone from this area, and I have lived, at least for small stretches, in some of the biggest and best cities in America.  Indianapolis ranks pretty well with most. 

Now, keep in mind that I haven’t been here for more than 24 hours yet, and I have been drunk for around one third of that time.  BUT, so far so good! 

Stay tuned for my next post, which will probably be titled..."Indianapolis:  If I was going to be anally raped in prison, this might as well be the place.”

I Live With An Animal

I have realized something that has made me worry that I have become a stereotype.

I am a single woman and I love my cats.

You know this already. I know this already. So, what’s the revelation, you ask?

Yesterday I got disgusted and disappointed because Sneaker behaved in a rude and unacceptable manner. I didn’t speak to him for 5 hours afterward. When I did speak to him, I said things like, “You are so ghetto. You disgust me with your total disregard for the rules of civilization. Your rebellion is senseless and foul. Mister, you need your attitude put in check.” Of course he ignored me.

I think Leon, the good cat, got into a nest of young sparrows. I heard the commotion and when I was leaving for work saw a still living tiny baby bird at my doorstep. I put both cats inside and hoped for the best. When I got home yesterday, the baby was gone. Relief. Then later I discovered different dead baby in the driveway. I disposed of this bird, which is a chore I wish someone else would do, and released the cats to go outside. When I let them back in, Sneaker had a bird in his mouth.

I suspect this is the baby from the doorstep. It was half way down his throat, so there was no saving it. I tried to get the cat to cough up the bird but this did not work. Not only did it not work, but this attempt was met with fierce growling. I chased him through the house with a wad of paper towels in one hand and a grocery sack in the other. Sneaker ran under furniture. I was shaking chairs at him, frantically yelling that he release the prey, insisting that he obey my command. I grabbed him by the neck. He struggled and moaned in an unnecessarily and seriously predatory way. I opened all doors and pleaded with him to at least go outside. Every time I would check on him there was less and less of the bird visible. I was disgusted. Sneaker was behaving like an animal.

Leon got very upset at all of the commotion. He kept tracing a path around my ankles, begging me to settle down. I couldn’t. Here was this cat, Sneaker, devouring a bird as if he was starving; as if he didn’t have access to Iams cat food twice a day and treats every other night. He was aggressive in his munching. He had a look in his eyes like you see on the Discovery channel. He was ‘in the moment’ and had taken 5 steps back on the evolutionary trail.

Here is the picture I submit as evidence. image
Those ARE feathers beside the animal. When Sneaker was finished, this is all that remained to be cleaned up.

Look how content and satisfied he is.

Animal.

I’m so disappointed.

What Does it Take to Get Noticed Around Here?

I try to remain somewhat anonymous on the blog. No last names, no mention of where I work, and only pictures that I have personally approved (Killer, are you reading this?). I like that the ‘man’ can’t trace me. I’m like a Bond girl. Ok. Maybe not. But if I ever need to go into wittness protection, I have a nice head start. I leave no trail.

A former boss came up recently in conversation and I was told I needed to Google him. I did. Holly fuck. He’s all over the freaking place. I, however, am no where on Google. NO WHERE.

Public Radio has done several articles on employers using Google to find out about you before they’ll hire you. WHAT? I’ve read the same thing in a magazine. Future employers searching for me will instead be lead to a woman who does quilt designs for a living and a chick who likes to post about her current mood.

This is not the Liz you have come to know and love. Nor are these women ‘Lizs’ I am eager to be confused with. I want a splashy, Hollywood, WOW to explode in the minds of my future bosses when they Google me and read the many postings. I want them to think, “How could I have gone this long and not known about Liz? I must be an idiot...” I want to skip the interviews, because Google says it all for me.

So… how do I get on this ‘Google’ and how do I prostitute it to my full advantage? I want to be the first hit that comes up and I want RAVING comments from (fictional?) newspapers, satisfied customers, glowing performance reviews.... what ever. Blogosphere- please help! And can we make this happen SOON? I’m kind of thinking about the next phase and you never know what that might mean…

Worth Remembering

I’m taking a moment today to really do what you’re supposed to do on Memorial Day- Remember. We’re so fortunate to be born in a country where things like bullshit blogs can be posted without fear of retribution- except for retribution by your place of employment- and where it’s ok to be a freak or a religious conservative or a homosexual or all 3 combined. How blessed we are! Although war is hell, it seems like it’s part of the human condition. I’m grateful for the soldiers who have fought to keep our democracy in tact and would like celebrate them today.

There. The moment of reverence is over and the more shallow memorials can begin:

I’d like to remember my size 10 pants. They were good pants and I loved them. I had one pair I especially loved. They fit just right, showed the curves ahead, and allowed me to breathe without having to suck in my stomach. They were low-riders, but not so low that underwear or crack was exposed. I miss them- and I’ll probably never see another size 10 on my body again. Except in Photoshop.

A special shout out to brown hair. I used to have that. I started playing with color around 10 years ago and in that time gray has charged in and is attempting a takeover. People my age are moms and look like moms. Gray hair is my touchstone to reality. I’m one of them. Yikes.

Tequilla. I can’t do it anymore. The very smell makes my mouth water in that ‘I’m about to hurl’ kind of way but I really long for those days when 4 shots and a pack of smokes made for a great start to a long night.

Men who aren’t divorced. I will never again see the time when I can walk into a bar and know that 80% of the guys my age in that bar are single and have never been married. Now finding a mate involves a lesson in his personal history and his attempts to shed himself of his ex-wife baggage. Most of the time I’d honestly rather stay home than hear one more story about ‘her’.

The excitement of a new Indiana Jones film. This last one killed it for me. I went to see it Friday night and I have already forgotten the plot. I think it’s because I was sitting on the second row in the far right corner of the theater. I concentrated more on pore size than movie content. The nostalgia of my love for Indy keeps me from saying the movie was awful but, even if another one IS made, I won’t go see it. The same thing happened with Star Wars. I saw all 3 of the good ones then went to the theater to see the one with Jar-Jar Binks in it and I haven’t watched a Star Wars since. Lucas, quit fucking up good things.

Watching late night TV without glasses. I’ve been in contacts for almost 18 years and for the last 10 of those years have dreamed of the magic eye surgery which would allow me to see without the use of glasses or contacts. I wanted to give it several years to see if there were any side effects to Lasiks surgery and, as recently plastered on the news, for many people there is. I’m not a risk taker when it comes to my eyeballs. This means that for me, forever, Conan O’Brien will look like an oddly shaped white dot smoldering under an orange flame.

My grandma’s cooking. It fucking rocked the house and I still think of it at least once a week. It deserves special recognition because it was too awesome for words. I can’t do it- no one else can. I miss her and, equally, her outstanding food.

Not worry about money and working every fucking day. That totally deserves being memorialized. Oh, I get the weekends and a vacation every now and then, but unless I live to be 70 (unlikely) or marry wealth (even more unlikely), I will have a fucking job for the fucking rest of my fucking life. I don’t worry about money too much now, but if I didn’t have job I would. Weekends, although joyous, also leave me somewhat depressed. They’re like the 5 seconds of air they give you when you’re being waterboarded.

So that’s my list of things that I’m taking time out this Memorial Day to remember. I hope next year to be memorializing my gigantic boobs, cards that aren’t handmade, and life without HBO.

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