I am still pretty lowly worm, as k would say, but was cheered today by a bit of schadenfreude on a Monday afternoon: a former co-worker of mine from The Ritz, which I left because I brought some major sanitation and food-safety fails to management's attention and they then said if I didn't shut up about it I'd be fired, came into Eclecstasy today for a job interview. Apparenly a couple of weeks after I left the Health Department shut the restaurant down, and between how old it was and how corrupt the staff was, Management decided to call it a loss and close it down for good.
Said former co-worker was always kind of a bitch to me, but is a solid server with an above-average work ethic, so I put in a good word.
It is taking every bit of maturity I can muster not to stalk down my former boss on the facespace and message him like BOOM! WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED THAT? SOMEONE WHO CURRENTLY HAS A JOB, THAT'S WHO.
As we were tucking the Littles into bed tonight, Hotter farted.*
"Oh Jesus Christ," I exclaimed, fanning the air while the boys rolled around laughing in their beds with their pillows over their faces.
"It was Little Child," Hotter insisted.
"HIS BODY ISN'T EVEN LARGE ENOUGH TO CONTAIN SUCH FOULNESS," I gasped.
"We're practically the same size," Hotter argued. I lifted him.** "Eh, it's just about true."
Middle Child pondered for a moment, then asked "Hotter? Do you not weigh ath much because you're mith-ing organth?"
I explained that Hotter actually has MORE organs than the average person, since they left the old ones in.
And then I suggested that perhaps he's lightweight because he's full of gas.
I love Middly's logic, though!
* It bears mentioning that this was no ordinary fart. Hotter's chronic GI troubles cause, among other unpleasant things, frequent, loud, FECKING AWFUL flatulence. Or as I put it the other day, when children and their little ears were not present, DEAR GOD THAT SMELLED LIKE SOMEONE LIT A GANGRENOUS LIMB ON FIRE AND TRIED TO PUT IT OUT BY TAKING A HANGOVER SHIT ON IT.
** Yeah, he's lost a lot of weight as a result of said GI problems' recent flare-up. Plus I'm freakishly strong, but mostly the first one. And yes, he has seen a doctor (and a specialist) about this, and they have tried various treatments, but not much helps. The prevailing theory is that between his being diabetic for twenty-some years and vessels that fed his intestines being diverted to sustain the donor organs his guts are underoxygenated and/or have nerve damage, or something like that, although it's sometimes better and sometimes worse, but there just aren't enough people with Hotter's constellation of medical issues walking around for anyone to form more than an educated guess.
Hotter and I are fans of Orange Is The New Black. Since it's a dramedy about women in prison I'm not surprised that he is keen on it, but I do not generally have the attention span for teevee of any kind (this makes Hotter very sad because he considers teevee to be a Bonding Activity). However, the brilliant writing and extremely high Bad Fun Quotient have won me over in the case of this series, and so it came to pass that a co-worker and I were discussing it the other night after I watched the last new episode (previously she would try to talk about it and I would run away yelling with my fingers in my ears).
MFA Mama: Okay, I finished watching. We can talk about it now.
Co-worker: EEEEEEEE! What did you think?!?
MFA Mama: SO SATISFYING!
Co-worker: INORITE??? Who's your favorite character? I really like Poussey.
Other co-worker: What are we talking about?
MFA Mama and First Co-worker, in chorus: ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK!
Other co-worker, with Judgey Eyes: Oh. I do not watch television. I do not even own a television.
So that's what I sound like. Ooof.
* Today is day one of back-to-back days off for me. Yesterday I thought perhaps I'd celebrate by getting a large back tattoo, but my artist of choice was booked last night and is closed today in observance of Memorial Day, and the place with the highest Yelp rating in town could do it but Hotter decided he didn't feel like coming and sitting through the work with me, and I in turn decided that I didn't want to waste hours of precious child-free off-time I could spend with my husband by going somewhere else by myself to spend a bunch of money. The tattoo parlors of MFAville will be there when the timing is right, and I'll get another two-day stretch at some point (the ink I have in mind will cover approximately 50% of the skin my bra strap rests on, so I don't want to do it the day before I need to work or the day before that, ideally). Instead I stayed home and got a cold, because a successful work-life balance hinges upon knowing how and when to treat yourself, right?
* The new honeybees seem to have settled in well. I haven't done a hive inspection, because I can see that they're bringing in lots of pollen, and bees only do that if they're feeding brood, and the presence of brood indicates the presence of a laying queen, so why crack them open simply to be able to go "yep, there she is?" One of the main lessons in my Sustainable Beekeeping class was that the less you mess with your bees, the better they tend to do, which makes sense. They're pretty strongly motivated to survive and multiply, and if they can, they will. If they can't, there's not much you can really do within the confines of organic, sustainable beekeeping methodology to help them, although you CAN easily harm them by opening the hive and bumbling around, as it were.
* There's a large construction project going on along the street that connects our little dead-end neighborhood to the local thoroughfare, and the first thing the contracting company did was to grade the earth and build a drainage pond on the site. It's been there for a few months now, and naturally some Canada Geese have moved in and hatched a bunch of slow-moving, buff-colored babies ACROSS THE STREET. This means that several times per day Ma and Pa Gander stop traffic to shepherd their progeny across the way for a swim, or back home for a nap, and it's pretty damn annoying. Hotter sometimes walks the half-mile to the main drag to buy milk or TUMS if I'm at work or home sick, and got into An Altercation with the geese earlier today. According to him, he threatened to kick those mofos right in their saw-toothed beaks if they didn't quit hissing and waving their necks about menacingly, which probably means he screamed like a girl and fell in the ditch. I'm alternately Googling recipes (the purportedly outrageous greasiness and fat-shedding is a little offputting) and hoping the C(o)unty will turn some of its anti-avian sentiments toward Solving The Goose Problem now that my chickens are legal.
* Speaking of meat, I really need to process Iden, but...I'm a little skeert. I've killed plenty of rabbits, but Iden is VICIOUS and I'm not 100% certain I'd come out on top in a melee scenario. So I keep putting it off, and Googling ways of cooking older rabbit-meat so that it isn't dry or tough. Many recipes suggest incorporating grease from a fattier meat such as bacon. I wonder if goose would work?
* I'm a little up-in-the-air about the new job still. On one hand, I really like a lot of the people I work with. On the other hand, the last time I worked a dinner-shift I had THE WORST TABLE OF MY CAREER, and they left an electronic device at the table and I did some extra work to negotiate its safe return (despite the shitty tip), reasoning aloud to co-workers that surely this would bring me some good karma and mean that good things were coming my way. Then my next table was exponentially worse. As in, they were yelling so hard about the way the bartender made a drink and the texture of the complimentary dinner rolls and the way their steak was cooked (it was one of those "ate the whole thing but sent back the LAST BITE" scenarios, which is extra-silly given that if you're eating in the restaurant of The Ritzier you can absolutely afford to pay your tab) that they were SWEATING, and then they called Management over to the table and insisted that I be fired or harshly disciplined for throwing their check onto the table in a rude manner. Except that since Management had already advised me they were taking care of the bill I never *gave* these people a check. WHO DOES THAT? YOU ARE ALREADY EATING AND DRINKING FOR FREE AND I WAS NOTHING BUT NICE TO YOU! TRYING TO GET ME FIRED BY LYING LIKE THAT WAS UNNECESSARY, WRONG, AND JUST MEAN. I make good money at The Ritzier, but this is a new breed of customer, the "being jerks for sport" sort, and I'm not sure I care for it. The very rich are not unlike those Canada Geese; you can't build something nice without them showing up with their heedless offspring and getting in everybody's face just for the sheer hell of it! And eating the rich is frowned on in the service industry, so there's no Final Solution, either!
* There's a mole in my garden, and it has eaten all but one of my pepper plants that were looking so good. Moles are definitely not good to eat, and apparently Juicy Fruit doesn't work as well as one so often hears, so I'm looking into guillotine traps, although that seems like a lot of work and I may just give up on peppers for the year or plant some in containers.
* The nearby new construction has riled up and displaced the local wildlife, to the point that I have recently seen both a possum (I nearly ran it over and then though of how old and bald my tires are and decided to brake after all) and a raccoon. Also, Hotter just came and informed me that we have a new Undertoad in the yard ENOUGH, ANIMALS!
* In an act of (perhaps) misguided kindness, I bought Skeeter a catnip plant. Now he's constantly trying to get outside and have a nip, and he's a mean drunk. I can't win!
* How are all of YOU?
Posted on May 26, 2014 at 01:27 PM in bad fun, bullets from inside my head, department of revenue, doctor, doctor, it hurts when I go like this..., Hotter, I live in the dirt, mama, my minivan, myself, no animals were harmed in blogging this, the MFA Honeybees, wascally wabbits, well bless their hearts | Permalink | Comments (2)
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I had two days in a row OFF over the weekend, and have Hurt My Back, which means I spent a lot of time futzing around on The Innernet and liking things on The Facespace. I also took a number of quizzes, because friends of mine were taking them and I was curious to see what my results would be.
According to Dr. Buzzfeed, I am a profane, underprivileged misanthrope. WHO SAYS ONLINE QUIZZES ARE NEVER RIGHT?
Figure One: How sweary are YOU? Find out here.
Figure Two: I didn't think I'd do this badly :( Check your privilege.
Figure Three: Well, this one I at least saw coming. I'm in the service industry. It's to be expected. Do you hate people?
1. I was browsing The Innernet and saw where people were talking about black-bean and kale brownies. Is this A Thing now? Have any of you tried it? I mean, the black-bean part doesn't bother me. I am down with black-bean baked goods. But...kale? I...want to believe. Because beans + leafy greens + egg = A MEAL. A MEAL MADE OF BROWNIES! But...kale? And then I Googled, and...SWEET BABY JESUS NOT AVOCADO TOO??? Is this a dessert or a damn taco salad?!? I want to try this and like it, but...I'm scared.
2. Someone sent me a picture of Stalky in case I wanted to put a face with the online persona at long last, and my gut reaction was a sick little thrill because I am totally prettier. And then I felt like dogshit, because I am a bad feminist, and also what is wrong with America. Actually, if you put the picture next to my driver's license photo and squint your eyes it's like she's my older, heavier sister with a tragic birthmark and redneck hair. Ewwww...
3. Speaking of bad things on the innernet: Honey Possums. Y'all know I hate possums like poison, but...these things are deceptively cute AT FIRST. See the first photo? Aww. Now scroll down to the third photo. THAT'S ITS LEFT NUT, THEY HAVE HUGE TESTICLES, OMG, AND USE THEM TO PRODUCE THE WORLD'S LARGEST SPERM. Possums: Of The Devil. This confirms it.
4. My boss's boss's boss, doing manly boo-ya things he must have learned during his time in the military, because I got a corporate-trivia question right, which makes our entire department look good. You maybe had to be there, but picture The Head Honcho, Who Is Much-feared, in a suit, doing squats and flexing and yelling...over corporate trivia. And then he brought me gluten-free cookies, which was nice :)
5. This. This is A Thing. I...can't. If you are using your ENTIRE HAND for that, you're doing it wrong and I just...can't.
Yesterday sucked a lot in ways that were all new to me, which is kind of saying something as I am something of a connoisseur of shitty life-circumstance at this point! I don't want to be overly specific, but my day involved, in various effed-up ways, the US Military, a minor on-the-job accident (I am totally fine, but there are procedures that must be followed with these things...), a good-faith attempt at mandatory post-accident drug-testing on my part that revealed a monumental paperwork SNAFU between The Ritz and the local Urgent Care clinic, a brush with upper-level management at The Ritz ON A WEEKEND to straighten things out and ensure that we were all in compliance with company policy, and Hotter going missing.
The end-result is that I can't go back to work until my pee is processed, which is why I was so eager to get that done in a timely manner (I even offered to pay for the test myself out of pocket if someone would reimburse me, which was why Management got involved in the first place), and that takes two to three days, so I have some unexpected and unpaid time off during which I get to stew over how I sometimes seem to be the only person working at The Ritz who actually remembers all of the policies and procedures (the security supervisor who processed the Incident Report wasn't aware I had to be drug-tested, didn't have the proper forms to give me for that, and wasn't aware of the "no working until drug test comes back" rule...and then they asked me out, which OMG I AM TECHNICALLY YOUR SUBORDINATE AND MARRIED TO BOOT). I am going to have one HUMDINGER of a debriefing with HR tomorrow! As for Hotter going missing, he was well aware that I had had a very stressful day but chose to disafuckingppear without any keys, jackets, or dogs so that I got home and spent twenty minutes searching the house and yard for a body, because I have NEVER come home and not been able to find him. He just doesn't go anywhere. EXCEPT FOR YESTERDAY. And when he finally did turn up, I discovered that Pfeffer had had babies AND EATEN THEIR BRAINS LIKE A FUCKING ZOMBIE GAHHHH!
At that point, I will not lie, I decided that tennish weeks of not drinking was long enough to satisfy me that there was no chemical dependency issue at play and I did purchase and consume some Real Absinthe, with wormwood and everything, and take a hot bath (with Hotter supervising to ensure that I didn't pull a Whitney Houston). I am mildly disappointed to report that I did not hallucinate or anything, although as I pointed out to Hotter, given the kind of day I had had if the walls started to bleed I would have doubted that I was actually hallucinating and just put on a pair of gloves and gone looking for bodies (AGAIN. OMG HOTTER).
And then I slept for fourteen hours.
How are all of YOU?
P.S. Big Child says "How do you make a plumber cry? KILL HIS FAMILY!"
P.P.S. One piece of good news: backyard chickens are now legal again where I live! I am allowed to have up to six birds, which means that the chickens are coming home from Squatter Workshop and I am getting two more.
Posted on March 16, 2014 at 11:35 AM in actual conversations, anger shoes, bad fun, Big Child, chickens are not nice, department of revenue, doctor, doctor, it hurts when I go like this..., Hotter, mama, terrible, horrible, no-good very bad days, wascally wabbits, well bless their hearts | Permalink | Comments (1)
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Little Child: scowling at paper with pencil in his fist: What is philosophy?
MFA Mama: The study of knowledge. The discussion of things like right and wrong. Lots of deep thoughts.
Little Child: So then what would you draw to describe philosophy?
MFA Mama: I'd probably do a guy chin-shelfing with a thought bubble over his head and a question mark in it or something.
Big Child: from his room, not a part in conversation THAT'S PROBABLY WHAT I'D DRAW TO INDICATE BUMPUS! HE IS A HIGHLY INTELLIGENT HOUND!
Hotter: Except then the thought-bubble would be EMPTY!
MFA Mama: stomps out into the snow to feed chickens, returns
Hotter: --don't know, dude, those are all the words I'd use to describe love. Ask your mother.
Little Child: with an evil glint in his eyes Hotter only knows three words to describe love!
MFA Mama: icily Patient, kind, and forgiving.
Hotter: Well so-O-or-ry! I'm not romantic.
MFA Mama: I KNOW.
Hotter just peeked in on me and did a double-take; apparently all of my deepest and dearest-held convictions re: nutrition, ethical consumerism, and the environment go RIGHT OUT THE WINDOW if there's puking involved, because I am laid up in bed swigging nasty, HFCS-riddled, non-diet American Coca-Cola from a plastic bottle, and I am only a LITTLE bit sorry!
When I first got sick this go-round, I posted my symptoms on the facespace in a complaining sort of way, and Dr. Anon commented "oh dear, sounds like influenza!" I remember I read that and thought "pfft, alarmist! I had a flu shot! You can't diagnose via the innernet!"
I both love and hate having friends who are always right.
Since I missed the window for antivirals to do any good, I get to ride this out, and lord is it ever kicking my ass. I'm on my second antibiotic, and also my second call-out from work (after I woke in a cold sweat shortly before the end of the window during which I could call out and left my boss a deeply humiliating voicemail in which I was was trying so hard not to throw up long enough to call out that I forgot what I was talking about). GET YOUR FLU SHOTS, PEOPLE! I may have succumbed to a strain that wasn't covered by the vaccine, but I pick up snotty napkins for a living so it was kind of bound to happen. YOU DO NOT WANT THIS.
In other news, Poppy and Skeeter are ALMOST getting along. I mean, they LIKE each other. They like to PLAY together. They both want to sleep in the big bed with us, and yet...they can't seem to leave each other alone if they're both in with us at night. This is mostly the cat's fault. He's an asshole. Our solution thus far has been a $10 pressure-mounted baby gate across the open bedroom door; the cat can jump it if things get too rowdy, and the dog knows she's not supposed to try. After last night, when we were awakened by the cat on my head and the dog on Hotter's head performing an intricate pas de douche, our next-step solution might just be amputating everyone's paws and installing casters on their leg-stumps.
Stay tuned for a picture of the dog and the cat lying in bed helplessly side-by-side, with their casters locked, captioned "WHEELIE BUDDIES BFFS!!! <3"