Blown Fuse

Skeevy

I walked into a gas station convenience store this morning looking for coffee creamer for the office. The moment I stepped over the threshold and passed some guy waiting in line, he made the loudest, longest whiff at me.

No shit. When I walked past he smelled me.

That is so. Weird.

I Did It.

I deserve a gold star, y'all.

Although I have the propensity to call myself a writer, I hadn't actually written anything to conclusion in the past year. Work got in the way, or whatever other excuse I found to not pursue what I intended to be my career.

Well. Over the course of the past month I've written a 25-page short story for a contest submission. I went through five distinct drafts and God knows how many different conclusions, but it's done and in the hands of the USPS.

I don't expect to win this contest. I did this submission as a deadline to get myself on a regular writing schedule. If I should win, of COURSE I'll be jumping up and down with glee and spending that $500 prize on a set of tires, but all the same....it feels good just to have a story out.

Tomorrow I'll start outlining another short story for a September 15 deadline. My end goal is after a year to have twelve really good pieces of short fiction that are submission-ready and to finish one of the four longer works I've had on the backburner for some time.

I really don't want to lock myself into a genre right now because (as you long-time readers know well) my mind jumps from one idea to the next and I don't want to feel obligated to stay in the same readership when I know I have great ideas in another. I don't, however, see myself writing steamy romance novel word-porn anytime soon, though.

*ramble ramble*

Right, so. Yay me!

A Picture Share!

Outback Steak House - mmm, pineapple martini. Works twice as nice as beer for the same price.

More Reasons to Hate Insurance Companies

My appeal for Blue Cross to pay for my most recent eye exam has been systematically denied. {See backstory.}

Basically, they've taken thirty days to get back to me with a letter merely repeating the information I provided them with to state that my request is denied on the evidence of "Blue Options Member Guide."

So...they're spitting out at me what I already know - that I'm supposed to have only one eye exam every 365 days.

Regardless of the fact that I got poor care the first time that necessitated a return visit to another doctor they won't pay.

Oh well. Can't win them all.

(says that but is really pissed)

A Picture Share!

The creative muse eludes me (aka "my life is boring this week") so here's a picture of my cat. Meanwhile some good news- I've won the direct deposit battle!

This sucks. Literally.

I went to an oral surgeon this afternoon on referral by my dentist. You see, I still have my wisdom teeth and they've been bothering me to the extent that I want them gone.

The bullshitty part is that they don't really accept insurance. What they do is charge you upfront and you sit around and wait for your carrier to reimburse you.

So. On the day of my procedure I have to cought up $623. Then $623 30 days after that. Then another $623 another 30 days after that.

That just seems excessive to me. Maybe that's because I really don't have two nickles to rub together at the end of the month (if I got paid my market value I would).

I'll have to figure out some way to cough it up. Regardless of the fact that insurance is supposed to reimburse for most of it that's just so...painful.

Sob, sob. Heave, heave.

So, I finished the new Harry Potter book. *sigh*

You remember how somewhere in the middle of the Lord of the Rings trilogy how it was depressing as hell and there was nowhere to go but up?

Yeah.

That's all I'll say regarding that in case you were going to read it. I willl comment to all the people saying that these are kids' books that there are enough S.A.T.-level words in there to have a unabridged dictionary nearby.

*Thud!*

We ("We" meaning those of us without children) in the office have decided to form a dodgeball team and play in the City of Raleigh's rec department adult league.

Can you imagine? A bunch of high-strung people throwing big-ass balls at their annoying coworkers/teammates instead of the other teams?

I can just imagine what our uniforms would look like - I'm thinking knee pads, goggles, and some of those old-school leather football helmets.

We'll probably be the worst team out there, but at least we'll have a little comic relief. We can pretend we're in the Matrix and try to defy gravity.

Miss Congeniality

Well, well. It seems the Tiffany has been kidnapped, stuffed into the back of a van, and entered into a cyber Scholarship Competition beauty pageant.

*Sigh*

Most of you have never seen me in person, but damn. That's a bad picture. In my own defense, I rarely (if ever) have good outcomes when photos are taken of me. In that particular snapshot I was holding my camera phone three feet from my face and squinting to see if I was in the shot.

*Sigh*

Anyway. I'm going to go practice my talent portion of the competition. I can do this trick where I set batons on fire, toss them high into the air, and then run away before they fall and set my hair ablaze.

Practical for home?

I've been looking into getting a laser printer for home use. My ink jet that I purchased at discount with my new computer is fine for what it is, but now that I've kicked myself in the ass about slacking off on my non-blog writing, I need something that will withstand the constant draft printing that I do during the week.

I noticed that HP has the same printer that we have at work on sale for $150. Yes, I know the cost of the cartridges will eat me up, but they do last a pretty long time, considering.

What do you think? Anyone out there splurge for a good home laser printer?

The beer oracle has spoken.

Last night I had a nightmare that I asked my boss for my evaluation/raise and he handed to me a report-card style statement saying that I was "A+" for everything except attitude, in which I recieved a "D". Because of that I would not be given a raise, however was officially fired. I would be given $500 in severance.

This whole, "Ask for a raise, stupid!" thing isn't getting any easier.

Tradeoffs.

I no longer wear a size 1. I came to terms with that this evening when I put all but one pair of my jeans and khakis into a bag to give away. I can't say that "the dryer shrunk them" anymore and contend that's the only reason they don't fit. I'm not going to lie to myself and say that when I'm done with the Lupron shots that my ass will dissolve like alka seltzer in water.

I will not pour talculm powder into my pants legs (like certain girls I knew in high school) and hope it'll help them slide on.

I can't be a beer drinker and be as svelte as I was a few years ago.

I've had my good cry and I'm over it now.

Hello, beer. Welcome to my thighs.

Beer Goggles

Shiner kolsch: a new beer for me. It's not bad! Not as hearty as the regular brew I normally drink, but it certainly isn't nasty.

1 - 2, Cha cha cha.

I have a confession. I've always wanted to take a ballroom dancing class.

Are you done laughing? Good. See, I could go right out to the Fred Astaire place down the street but I'd feel like I was sticking out without a partner. I should remind you here that I am approximately 5'2" and I'm married to a man who's 6' 5" barefooted. I doubt he'd consent to humiliating himself by shaking his groove thing to the beat of meringue music.

It'd be just my luck that if I went alone I'd be partnered with some dude who is at best 5'3" with a Napoleon complex. I'd have to put him in his place quickly, surely.

What do you think? Should I go buy myself some dance heels and a bunch of weird ugly flowy skirts and take a class in the fall? Who knows - maybe someday you'll see me on ESPN 2 competing with li'l Napoleon in the Foxtrot round.

Bug Orgy

Three bugs getting it on. Ew.

"...down to Kokomo, that's where we want to go."

My wedding anniversary is coming up. We never really do anything for any holiday or special dates because we work so hard Monday - Friday that on days off we're like "Pbst. Fuck that."

Since I know I'm not going to get that huge bling-bling ring that all Southern girls should have I might as well settle for something we both can use. We are, however, trying to find time to take a vacation. I immediately thought "Cruise! Cruise!," however I must confess that I'm minorly turned off by all the nasty food poisoning inicidents of last year and the year prior. I'm also severely nauseated by the smell of salt water when experienced from within he bowels of a boat (ferries included).

I surmise that flying somewhere and booking a hotel would be less expensive than a seven day cruise, don't you think?

Anyone know from experience? Any recommendations?

I've never left the country, so I'm exicted to go somewhere tropical.

Fire Engine

Bright red nails make me feel like a battleaxe. I feel strong, mean, and ready to take on another (albeit short) week at work....but still not ballsy enough to ask for that raise. I think I'd need some French-tip acrylics for that.

I'm not even mad.

Since very few people read or comment on blogs on the weekend (especially during holidays), I'll just take this time to rant about family bullshit.

Two years ago when I was in school I was short a few hundred bucks on my rent, so I asked my "big" sister for help. Having just been rewarded a huge financial settlement for having her foot ran over by a cab $300 bucks wasn't going to eat her alive - so she gave it to me. I'd estimate that that $300 was less than half of one percent (0.5%) of her total reward if that helps to put it into perspective. Probably more like a quarter of a percent. Anyway...

Fast-forward two years. The drama (or "dray-ma" as Diana might remember from Texas days) unfolded last month when I sent my sister a friendly little note. I advised her of some job prospects for her husband, commented on our father (this was right before father's day), and asked whether she needed money.

She called me when she got the letter and left the nastiest message in my voicemail. To summarize she remarked on me not calling her kids on their birthdays (I did send cards), and dragged up that money she loaned me two years back (she pissed the rest of it away on clothing and cars) and talked about how she's struggling now and all that shit. She ended the message with "Have a nice life."

Well, she attempted to call me periodically between then and now but never left a message. I had no intentions of answering it. I knew that she was either going to a) apologize for being a fucking bitch, which I'm not ready to forget or forgive, or b) continue to rant and rave, which I further didn't want to hear.

This morning she left another nasty-ass devil-is-in-her message in my voicemail telling me that I must have crawled into my turtle shell to be ignoring phone calls and shit like that. She said quite nastily that we needed to have a "communication" because she wanted her money back, that I know how much it was and that she doesn't want to have to "call Scott and bring him into it because he doesn't have anything to do with it" as if Scott would immediately open up his checkbook for her.

Yeah. So, she's going to estrange herself over $300 given more than two years go. She never asked for it back even when we were on speaking terms - it never got brought up. She probably realized recently that she had all that damn money and has nothing to show for it now since it all got sold by her landlord when she couldn't pay her rent. She must be thinking "That $300 is probably the only money I can get back right now."

So be it. I sent it via Western Union this morning and had to use all the restraint I had not to write "Fuck you" in the message accompanying it. She had no right to bring Scott's name into it at all. Last month I was in a position to send her some change because I'd earned a commission on something so I asked if she needed any. Now she's demanding it. At any time over the past two years she could have asked me for it, but she didn't. I would have done whatever I needed to get it for her. She knows what I earn and that I'm paying off a car, mortgage, hospital bill, and student loan. I don't know what makes her think that I'm sitting on a stockpile of cash. I don't use Scott's income as the basis for repaying my debts, that's for damn sure. I didn't really have that money to spend this month but I sent it to her anyway.

I hope it settles whatever darkness she has in her heart because I have nothing further to say to her. And in case you're wondering, if it had been me, I wouldn't have asked for it back. Her deal is that she has three kids, no job, no degree, and is lazy as hell. If I were going to be as petty as she is I'd tell her that $300 was advance payment for all of her shit that I've been storing in my garage for the past two years. This weekend it will be sorted and sent either to charity or to my trashcan. I'm totally fucking not kidding. I'm sick of trying to be nice when everyone else is too busy thinking about only themselves.

Stupid Spam Subjects:

Here's a particuarly good one from today's email:

"you've made it. Now you can apply online for a bra"

Thanks! I've always wanted a bra!