Dumb...

I put .75 cents in the soda machine.  It's been a long week.  I deserve a soda.  I press the button combo for a Pepsi and nothing comes out.  I look and see that the red light is on, signifying "You ain't gettin' no Pepsi today, heffa".  Disappointed, and slightly annoyed, I then enter the button combo for my backup drink - a Dr. Pepper.  The can comes out with a clunk. 

I stand there waiting on my change.  I hear no jittery-jangle of coins hitting the tray.  Nothing.  I put my fingers in the coin return slot, nothing.  I press the coin return button, nothing. 

Now I'm really annoyed and I begin the most logical assault I can think of - punching random combinations of buttons and the coin return button AND verbally encouraging this bitch ass soda machine to give me my money.

Some guy comes into the breakroom sees me standing there with a quizzical look on my face muttering obscenities and punching buttons and he asks what's wrong.

"This STUPID machine won’t give me my change!"

He said maybe it’s stuck, let me try it.  He jammed the coin turn button, nothing.  Tried to pick the machine up by the corner to rock it back and forth, but it was too heavy.  He said, "Well was your dollar bill wrinkly or something?  Maybe it jammed."


Shaking my head, "No, because my soda came out so it accepted the money.  But wait, I didn’t put in a dollar bill, I put in 3 quarters."

"You put in 3 quarters?"

Didn't I just say that?  "Yeah, I put in THREE quarters."

He looks at me strangely.  "Um, you do know the sodas cost .75 cents, right?"

My annoyance sky rockets to an entirely new level.  Who is this guy and why is he talking to me like I'm stupid?  My right hand goes on my hip and I point to the machine with the other.  "Of course I know that!  It clearly says .75 cents right there.  Do I look like I’m an id…."

Pause…

And then, "Ohhhhh, three quarters.  Seventy-five cents.  No change.  Sheesh, I AM an idiot."

He replies shaking his head, "Well don’t expect me to argue with you."

He looks at me like:  

 *sigh*  I let him have that one.  One - I don't know who he is.  When you work at nepotism central, you gotta be careful about on whom you unleash the snark. Two - I was embarassed as hell, I'm 35 years old and can't count.   Five - my soda is getting warm.

Oh well.  Happy Friday!  I'm fintna crack the tab on this caffeine and go to town.

~N

Wow, Keyboard Still Works...

I'm sitting in McAllister's Deli, marveling at the fact that I'm here alone.

Laptop is to the left of me, and to my right - a dead Angus Spud.  With gravy.  I killed it.  I inhaled that thing like I've never before been priveleged enough to experience gravy. 

No one was bugging me to taste it.  No one sticking their fork in my plate before I was done with it.  I'm all alone.

Well there are some irritating little Asian kids screaming their heads off in the next booth, but they're not mine so they don't count.

No kids, no man, no coworkers, no boss, no dog crapping on my carpet.  Just me.  Not 'just me' crapping on my carpet, but just me - here alone. 

I'm not figuring out how to pay bills.  Not worrying about what to feed the kids for dinner.  I only spent $9 feeding me instead of $45 feeding the whole family.   I'm not engaging in any Facebook or Twitter fist-fights on my Droid (and that's the kind of entertainment I'm driven to when I don't have time to express myself in other ways).  I'm not suffering through my daughter's math homework (she always has the most complicated shit to do), nor am I listening to Nature Boy explain why whatever bad thing happened at school today wasn't his fault.

It's just me for a couple hours.  I think I like it. 

And ... after that, I don't know what to say - for the moment.  I think, maybe, that just getting words down on the page even though they may be scatterbrained and incoherent is almost as therapeautic as putting words on the page that do make sense. 

See, that shit didn't make sense.  But it felt good to write it. 

I'm supposed to have Wednesday evenings away from home for the time being. Thank you Sunshine.  Hopefully it will actually be a regular thing.  When you're a mom, you never know. 

I should probably go. That potato is already working on me... or is it the gravy?

Oh yeah, I think this may be the shortest blog I ever wrote.  Guess that's how it works when you ain't got shit to say.

Yeah, I should go.  Laptop battery is quietly suggesting that I shut it down and come back another day.

Hope you've all been well.  See you next week?

~N

No Offense, But...

I often wonder what the logic is behind that phrase. People like to use that to lead into what's obviously going to be an offensive remark, as if by using that preface it somehow makes the insult less insulting. Again, I don't understand the logic.

You know it's an offensive remark, mainly because on some level you realize you would be offended if someone said it to you, or at the very least it has the potential to offend.

Why the pretense? Just be an asshole, offend the person and get it over with instead of making it worse by pretending like you went out of your way not to. Qt

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Is it Wrong to Envy the Irresponsible? Part I...

So far, 2011 has not lived up to all any of the promise I thought it would have.  I was all optimistic and shit... and so far, shit is the most accurate part of that sentence. 

What's today... March 16th?  Yeah.  In the span of 2 1/2 months - no, 3 1/2 since I got the house in December - my bills have almost doubled, I have 5 kids full-time instead of just the 3 born of my loins every other week (or 4 1/2 if you only count my nephew as half a kid since he's only two), 2 dogs instead of the 1 I adopted from the Humane Society, and my wages have only increased by a meager percentage.  All of the above will be explained either in this blog or a future post. 

Wait, before someone begins thinking I'm a habitual complainer and makes me want to kick them in the face (my pedicure is 6 weeks old, please don't make me take my shoes off for that) - take your smug judgments and insert them slowly where the sun should never shine.  Yes, Thank God my kids and loved ones are healthy.  Yes, I'm very glad I have no major health issues currently.  Yes, I'm thankful to wake up every day - after I get over the fact that I dread going to work.  Yes, I'm grateful to have a job - never mind the fact that I dread going to work, and yes, I really appreciate that the other dog who is not housebroken and is not allowed in my house has only peed in my garage floor once (that I know of) - never mind the fact that the King Crackhead of Canines hates me and the feeling is beautifully mutual and never mind the fact that I'm tempted to just leave the garage door open one day and let his dumbass wander off.  Yes, I look at the roof over my head and I'm glad it's there, even if I don't quite know how I'm going to pay for it all in the long run.  Yes, I know people are worse off than I am, and I'm sorry.  Yes, I tell my truck every morning that I love her and I don't know what I would do without her - even as something sounds a not so good sounding sound ever so often near the front passenger side tire.  We're still rollin', rollin', rollin'.

Glory be to God for my life and to Bi-Lo for the bonus point fuel perks.  

Now, to the question I've been wondering for a while now.  Is it wrong to envy the irresponsible?  Everyone can't pull off irresponsibility.  I envy those who manage it well. 

In early December I was informed by the kids father, Ugly, that he was moving out of the house.  The house that he'd been lording over my head ever since I left him in 2005.  The house that he'd been using as a weapon to destroy my credit (and his - yes, he's that stupid) and make my life hell in general.  The house that he just all of a sudden no longer wanted.  He'd gotten an apartment, and was in the process of moving his stuff out.  In the process...as in, right that very second while he was on the phone with me.  "Well, Ugly, what about the mortgage?"  He replied, "Not my problem anymore."

Talk about trying to hold it together.  I didn't do very well.  I immediately began trying to figure out how I was going to pay rent on my apartment, a mortgage on the house, all the bills I already had and all the new bills that would come with the house (if you work for a Homeowner's Association Management Company, I wish a mean, green, pus filled, long lasting pox upon you and your tender parts).  I'd thought I was doing pretty well on my own as a single mom with no child support, but this... how to do this? 

After living somewhat comfortably for the past 5 years (i.e. everybody is fed, we enjoy the occasional movie, vacation, and I - even the occasional new shoe) I'm not too proud to admit that I cracked at the prospect of this overwhelming, overabundance of financial Suck. Yeah, I did.  I had a meltdown right there in the kitchen floor in front of my kids.  Whether you're trying to squeeze blood out of a mental turnip or an  actual turnip... you still get nothing but turnip juice - and what the hell are you going to pay with that? 

Dear Wells Fargo, since life has given me her ass to kiss, I'm a little short on funds.  Here's a $20 and a teaspoon of turnip juice. Signed - Ms. Cleavage

Dear Ms. Cleavage, your $20 payment has been applied to your account.  Please be advised that turnip juice is not an acceptable form of payment, nor should it be sent through the U.S. postal service.  Pay us with real money or expect your black asses to be out on the street come spring.  Signed - Wells Fuckin' Fargo

After scaring the kids half to death, I got up, took a deep breath, and made some decisions.  I decided to break the lease on my apartment - because I can't pay rent and a mortgage can I?, and move into the house - maybe I can save my credit from being annihilated by a foreclosure?  

Breaking the lease netted me over $2000 in charges and fees.  They charged me for everything from a broken blind to the drain pans in the stove.  Oh, and when I moved into the house and was about to make the December mortgage payment that Ugly swore he would pay half of due to my inconvenience (and didn't)?  Wells Fargo ever so nicely informed me that what I paid would apply to November because - guess, what?  You with me?  Aha moment?  - Ugly hadn't paid November's mortgage payment either, not with real money or turnip juice.  That sorry ass waste of darkness... Sooo, between the lease fees and mortgage payments, what I thought was a good decision ended up totally wiping out my savings/rainy day/vacation/Ihavegottohavethoseshoes/emergency fund.  I'm just one of those people.  I tend to keep my pantry and deep freezer stocked, and I keep my savings at a comfortable level in case I ever need it.  Well, I used to anyway. 

Hopefully somebody out there knows how that feels.  To know that at any moment, anything could happen and you have not a penny to your name that you can get immediate access to.  To know that if something terrible happened you are not in a position to provide for your children.  To know that if your car breaks down you have no way to get to work because your company decided to move headquarters to butt-fuck-egypt.  That's a really low place to be (not butt-fuck-egypt, broke).  I know, things could have always been worse but at the time, being broke was worse for me.   When you have to start a new life as an adult unexpectedly as I did when I left him, trust me, you learn how to save a nickel.  When you have to spend those nickels because your back is against the wall, the feeling you get is not a happy fuzzy one, but feelings of panic and fear.

Luckily, at the time I did have that savings/rainy day/vacation/Ihavegottohavethoseshoes/emergency fund to fall back on and I was able to keep the lights on and the kids clothed and fed - don't underestimate the ultimate fun of "boil your own pack of ramen noodles night" - while I got my finances in some semblance of order.  Luckily, I had friends to vent to, and a mother that offered to help financially - which I know better than to accept, 'cause if she's paying my bills, that means she's not paying hers and I would end up paying them later anyway- and I had Mr. Sunshine who lovingly, although sometimes annoyingly, attacked the problem(s) with all the nonchalance of the childless and all the ferocity of a logistics nerd that dreams of excel formulas, data tables and v-lookup challenge competitions.  He also offered to help financially, for which I was glad he had my back, but of course I was too proud to accept.

So to get back on track - I survived.  I got back on top of things... until I got the next phone call.

...to be continued....