Well, it's that time again! And this time, I'm giving you all more time to send me posts, and I'm giving myself more time to get the shit all organized and sent out to everyone. Time, time, time. Could I say that word a few more times, please?
- You send an email to alittleleftoflost (at) gmail(dot)com telling me you want to participate. Go ahead and give me the link to your blog as well. Let me know if there is anything you do not want posted on your blog (such as cussing, sex issues, etc.).
- Then you send me your post. It can be about ANYTHING. Nothing is off-limits here.You are welcome to send all of it to me at once, in one email. In fact, I might lick your face if you do that, just to keep it simple for my overloaded brain.
- I will send your post to another participating blogger to be posted on their blog. We will all post the guest posts on the same day.
- If you wish to have an under-the-radar, sneeky pen name for your post, go right ahead. Just put it in the email. If you want your blog to be linked on your post, let me know.
Feel free to grab the button here, and post it on your blog. Go ahead and tweet about it, promote it on your blog; the more the merrier!
I need your contribution by
I will send you the guest post to put on your blog by
We will all publish the guest posts on the same day:
If you have any questions, feel free to email me.
Now, get to ranting!
Nine days ago, he really listened and understood when I spoke about my depression, how it's fogging up my thoughts and taking over my emotions. He didn't minimize it or deny it.
Nine years ago, it was a sunny and too-warm Saturday, and we got married. He dealt with my father and his brothers. He stood outside in the heat, sweating his ass off, to have pictures taken. He said 'I do' and got that sweet smile on his face that I don't see too often now. He danced with me, even though he hates to dance, and NEVER does it. He even dropped me at the end of our first dance. Like, on my head, feet up in the air, off the stage, dropped me.
Love, hate, spite, forgiveness.
Pride, humility, teasing, protecting.
Faith, hope, prayers, compromise.
I am proud to say we have made it through these nine years, all the good, all the bad, and we are indeed stronger from it.
I love this man, in all (and in spite of) his conservative crankiness.
I love this man, in all his hard work and pride.
I love this man, who giggles with our daughter, plays barbies, hide 'n' seek, and Candy Land.
I love this man, who searches for spirituality and peace.
Who calms me when I am stressed out to the point of no return.
Who makes me laugh in spite of myself.
Who gets drunk on a random Friday night and makes up new words like 'magicalician' (combining musician and magician) and stumbles over his own feet on the way to bed.
Who cooks awesome breakfast.
Who rolls his eyes at my TV loves and my music crushes.
Who thinks to buy me a subscription to Texas Monthly because he knows I'm a total dork and love to read it cover-to-cover.
Who kills bugs in the house, cleans up dog puke when I don't catch it, & does the dishes more times than I care to mention.
Who cares for my mother and sister, making sure they are safe and have what they need.
Who doesn't complain that I fall madly in love with every adoptable dog I see.
Who loves me, in spite of our differences.
I love this man.
Then being an adult got in the way, and it really sucks.
So yeah. No Blathering for me. No pedicure, no sleeping in a tent in Princess Nebraska's backyard, no begging her to let me paint a wall in her house, no drunk stumbling into her garden, no wine sponsor (how cool is that??), and no karaoke.
But what bothers me the most, really, is the new friendships. Missing out on the new friendships is hard for me. I've read both Princess Nebraska and Not that you Asked for awhile (but not always commented), and was really looking forward to
Ah well, I'll be an adult this weekend, and stay home with my girl, while my hubby goes hunting (a trip paid for last year, so, really, he's not being un-adult-like). Maybe I'll do my own karaoke? Drink mimosas by myself? Or sleep. How about sleep?
You were given to me last night
Never seen your face before.
A blur of movement, but precise-
legs, mouth, lashes, hands.
Large sapphire souls shone, stared through me.
I am blind
I have never seen you!
No color-just blueness.
So loud was your peace
So clear was your smile
I will melt when you arrive,
I will die just to touch.
No longer in control-you’ve caught me with that intent.
Now I taste you in my mouth:
Fresh freedom, cool calm, new hope.
I see you in every convincing cloud of blue, every reflecting
I hear your soft, strong sounds calling me-
In the stillness of my breathing and the beating of his heart.
Every swift slow movement I make,
All in the shaking anticipation of your arrival into these waiting,
But then things started to change.
My girl's favorite little nightlight disappeared. When I asked Lila*, she had no idea what I was talking about.
Then a crack showed up in one of our bathroom floor tiles. Again, Lila didn't have a clue.
Then there were gouges in the wood of one window seat, gouges in the wood of the bar, and a broken glass.
Then a glass candleholder wound up broken in my laundry room, where I had left it soaking in the sink.
Then random black smudges showed up on our bathroom countertops. Can't get them off.
Then my hubby's wedding ring disappeared. It's still gone. And we didn't discover this one until after we had let her go.
So we have been without a housekeeper for a couple of months. And honestly, it's not that bad. I just added more tasks in my multi-tasking schedule, and it's fine. No, it's not as clean and dust-free as it was, but it works.
Then last night, while in my daughter's room, I noticed that a collector's plate on her wall looked odd. I took it off the wall to find that it had been broken, in several pieces, and then glued back together. Whomever glued it did a shitty-ass job. How did I not notice this before?
The really shitty part is that this plate was given to me by my grandmother (who is no longer alive) when I was a little girl. So, it's sentimental. And it's f-ing broken.
In My Lady's House by Iron & Wine (Love this damn group!)
All That I Want by The Weepies
Love of the Loveless by Eels
I just have a lot going on, and too little time, and too little decent sleep. I'll be back to post by Friday, I swear to ya.
In the meantime, help me out w/ a few things, will ya?:
1. I need some good workout music. I know I asked a few weeks ago on Twitter, & I got some good suggestions, but I want more! Please?
2. I lost my blog roll over there ------>, & tried to re-create it at 12:30 last night. Take a look, and tell me if I missed you (I'm pretty sure I missed some peeps, and please don't take it personal-I am sleep-deprived and was side-tracked by Top Chef).
That is all.
IS THIS SHIT REALLY HAPPENING??
or...How to win friends and influence people in the office....
Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. I swear, the only reason I stay is because I need the job. If I wouldn't lose my house, I'd quit tomorrow. This place is a fucking zoo. I should have known that going to work in a political office was going to be a fucking nightmare. I'm just lucky (or maybe THEY are) that I haven't beat the shit out of someone yet.
So, get this: I've been here for 16 months. I work, ahem, worked for a presidential appointee. When January 21st rolled around, she was unemployed. So, three months later two new appointees come in. The Big Giant Head and his third in charge. The Big Giant Head (heretofore called BGH) brought in his own assistant, so the assistant that had been at that desk for 16 years comes to my desk. I was assisting the third in charge (heretofore called Sneaky Bitch or SB). They moved me to assist the second in charge, who is not here and won't be here until the winter time. I hope you can follow this better than I can....So, for the last eight fucking months, your taxpayer dollars have been hard at work paying me big $$$ to sit at a desk, write a blog, facebook, email, do online courses and basically spin my blonde ass around in a chair until I got dizzy. SB moved me to assist the BGH's assistant Queen Bee (are you following this?) so she could get to know the Who's Who of The Agency. While I sat at a NEW desk, listening to her make phone calls to the wrong people, calling people by the wrong name, telling people the wrong name of the person in the meeting with the BGH I would try to tell her Who's Who during our moments alone. The last time I tried, she put her hand up (think, "talk to the hand") and told me she didn't care. So, I basically told her to fuck herself (but much more politely). I lasted a whole week with her. They moved me back to my old desk from April to July, EXTENDING my working hours to do nothing all day. Well, not nothing. I put the newspapers on our cute table and made copies from 7-8 in the morning. So from 8-4:30, I did nada. Zilch. Nothing. At $30 an hour. Taxpayers' expense.
So, I took a day of leave in July. The next day, I come to work and they tell me in no uncertain terms to "pack your shit, you're moving. You probably shouldn't count on coming back to the Office of the BGH." OK, cool! I've got a new job! One that will keep me busy!! Alright!! So, I moved across the hall to work for, let's see, we'll call her Face with Two-Sides. Seems everything was going great! I was busy, I was keeping her happy, I was planning The Agency stuff, everything. Now, here's where the politics step in. In this particular office, there is a 25 year old boy. Sorry--man. He works here because he was little fetch and tote in the big Capitol building up the street. He's a favor. First job out of college. He's been here two months. He's a fucking little pussy, ass-kissing, brown nosing, power-tripping piece of guano. He is actually junior to me. He wasn't my boss. He isn't ANYBODY'S boss, but he really thinks he is. He and I were working on a couple of projects together. Needless to say, if you can't tell by my description, we didn't get along so well. So, I walk into his office to let him know of a conference call. You know, "Hey Guano, there's a conference call on the mating habits of squirrels in 15 minutes." He gets in my face about "withholding" information from him because I didn't tell him the subject??? WTF???? So, in my best retired Navy drill instructor, Marine Corps wife, aircraft carrier flight deck-running jet mechanic bitch voice, I tell him not to use that tone. Period. Don't EVER talk to me like that again. End of conversation.
But, it wasn't. If only it were that easy. I send him a very detailed email about the project. Now, think "Office Space"...."Ummmm, yeah. I don't get your email" he says as he walks into my cube. "What don't you get, Guano? It's very easy. It has all the required information. Don't you read English?"
His response? "Baby, you need to calm down." That didn't calm me down. I freaked. I flipped the fuck out. Could have probably handled it better, yes. But I freaked. I was completely in his face. It wasn't pretty. "Did you just call me 'baby'? 'Baby???' Are you fucking serious??? I'm a forty something woman, you don't call me 'baby'. Not in the office, not in the hallway, nowhere." Again, I thought that was the end of the conversation. As you guessed, it wasn't.
He went to Mouth with Two-Sides who went to Sneaky Bitch who went to the Big Giant Head. FIVE DAYS LATER, I get called in to THE office (put in soap opera suspense music here). "Do you get along with Guano?" "No sir, I don't." "Have you had a bad week?" "No sir, I haven't." A few questions later, this one is my fave, "Do we need to get you some help?" They didn't even ask my side. What they did was tell me pack my shit and they were transferring me to another division. OH, and if I can find a new job outside The Agency in three weeks? I won't get a letter of reprimand in my personnel file.
So, what's the lesson here? NEVER, EVER, EVER work in a political office. Not office politics, political office. Because if you're just a permanent person with a career here, you don't even match up to the people that are here on a term basis and you certainly won't win against their friends.
How did I handle it??? I got drunk. ALL WEEKEND LONG. A bottle of tequila and a case of beer, all weekend. I was doing shots at some BBQ we were at and I have no idea what they were....it helped. I came back to work with a whole new fuck you attitude...But, I'm keeping it to myself.
Not the top five books on your shelf or the top five places you’ve done it. These are the five individuals you’re totally allowed to boink outside of wedlock or any sort of committed relationship. ]
Let me just tell you that this *may* have been one of the most difficult tasks EVER for me. I mean, seriously?? Just FIVE??? Le Sigh. Okay, okay, I'll follow the damn rules:
1. Josh Hamilton RAWR.
2. Brittany Murphy
3. LL Cool J Dude, he's over 40, but I DO.NOT.CARE. Look the lips, the abs, the jawline, the arms, omg.
4. Jenny McCarthy Smart, funny, sexy.....
5. Taylor Kitsch I was pretty concerned about my obsession with Riggins (his character on Friday Night Lights), since he plays a teen. I felt sorta like a perv. Until I found out he is sooooo not a teen. *Whew* Re-commence the drool.
I'm insanely worn out after this post. I mean, FIVE???? Seriously?!?
(By the way, here and here are my previous posts on my obsessions, for further eye candy).
***********************To all of you who participated in Session 1 of The "When Pills Aren't Enough" Sessions, thank you! Also, thanks to all the commentors as well! Session 2 will be soooooon. You can still click on the badge above and check out all of the posts.
So my husband hates the fact that I have a blog. Hates it, mocks it, and despises its existence. And God forbid I include the kids in the blog. No photos of the kids period. And our marriage? Well, it’s his marriage too and he doesn’t want it discussed on the internet. I may not agree but I do need to respect that he feels so strongly about this. I’ve tried blogging about things and not mentioning him which is what we originally agreed upon. But then, he got upset because how could I blog about my life if I didn’t mention him? Wasn’t he a part of my life?
So, where does this leave the blog? Pretty damn quiet. I can’t blog about work (obviously), home (kids, husband and marriage are off limits) so where does this leave the blog? I’ve gone to password protected blogging but even that seems pointless now. It’s not as if the blog has hundreds of readers knocking on the door to login to read what I write. And my will to write has been so undermined that composing a post just seems so overwhelming. Which is sad because the blog was just gaining some momentum when he and I hit this latest impasse over blogging.
And let’s not forget about Twitter. One night he sat down and read my entire twitter stream (over 5,000 tweets) but hitting “more” over and over again. Months of random tweets about various things, now all out of context. That was not a fun evening nor has it been an enjoyable conversation every time Twitter has come up since then. Now? I barely even get on Twitter these days even though my tweets are locked. Again, it just seems so pointless.
So, does anyone else face this problem? What do you do?
And of course, come here tomorrow and someone's post will be here as well.
If you didn't get to join this session, please watch out for the next session. I'm pretty sure I will keep doing this.