if you're happy and you know it, the meds must have kicked in.

i know. i stole that from my facebook profile.

but i could seriously use some meds right now.

first off: the Husband had interview #2,457, 632 with the company that's teasing...er, courting him. now of course, he's tormenting himself with 'oh crap, i said this, this and this wrong.'

meds. now.

work today was meeting upon meeting upon meeting. then, a friend of mine at work, who apparently isn't as good a friend as i thought...well - let's leave it at i got the shaft when i needed support.

meds, meds, meds.

at least it's almost Friday...there's a weekend to be savored. hopefully, photos to be taken, a soul to be fed with all that is beautiful and joy and love in the world.

and meds.

so while i lick my wounds and heal my feelers, i'll check for meds to make me happy.
they're contained in the pint of Ben & Jerry's Strawberry Cheesecake sitting in my freezer.

the saga continues...

so.

just when you think it couldn't get worse....you get to work and open up your email.

myself, and the rest of the management team, got an email this a.m. from the paging department in Valley Forge. to paraphrase, they reminded us that we still had 23 ads in waiting for the section of the book paging today.

and then actually had the cahones to ask if we weren't working the waiting reports, designed to clear said pages.

oh.no.you.didn't.just.say.that.

we were all up in arms. but, feeling we didn't have a leg to stand on, because yes we have messed up lately, we sucked it up.

but we were pissed.

me especially.

i found myself later in the manager's office (calm down, just talking, i'm not in trouble) and venting again (i had said the same thing to my supervisor just an hour earlier).

i'm not paranoid. but kids, this sniping is nothing more than them venting because we came out there to try & help them, and instead the office eventually was closed. see? they say. you're not as big as you think you are. you can't even get our stuff clear and WE got CLOSED.

do not get me started again on that whole fiasco of the months we all spent there.

and my manager agreed with me.

dang. i feel good! i'm not paranoid, so i won't be in the local state hospital wearing a 'hug me' jacket.

oh, and did i also mention the conversation my supervisor had with me? no? well, file this under the 'what the $%&*#$!!' department.

'can we talk?' he says.

'yeah, what's up?' thinking, oh mercy. what have i done now?

'um....you're gonna hate me.'

not yet. but the day is still young, i think.

'can you cancel your vacation next month?'

oh.no.you.didn't.

my vacation. my trip. to see Keith.

i don't hate you. i may just have to maim you and slash yer tires.
(ed. note: we at *random thoughts do not, under any circumstanced condone violence. unless it's for revenge and you're absolutely positive you can get away with it.)

um. no. sorry, i say. i have an nonrefundable air ticket.

which i do.

oh, he says. then never mind. it's just that we're gonna be so busy then, and...

dude. we are gonna be so busy then, and after that, and after that...and besides, if i do not go, my sister in law will be out cash, as will i.

so, after that major heart attack-slash-stroke, all is well in LotusLand.

for now.



oh, and by the way. my manager called the other publishing office, the one that sent the rude email? she read them the riot act, and they actually had the cahones to say 'i offended people with my email? why good golly, i don't see how!!'

it's no wonder i'm nucking futz.

family+holiday=x.

now it's your job to find out what "x" really is.

so. i told you my mom was sick on Christmas, AND the days following. yesterday, she said, was the first day she really felt human again. and as such, she wanted to go have a deelish fried chicken dinner over @ Knott's.

naturally, when you are recovering from ANY kind of a stomach bug, you want to eat deelish, if a little greasy, fried chicken with biscuits, corn, mashed potatoes & gravy, salad AND chicken soup.

did i mention you also get a slice of pie for dessert? all for the low, low price of $14.95.

it's really good. really, really good. otherwise, it wouldn't have been around since the 30's, right?

however, it's not my little secret. everyone knows about it.

and everyone was in line for it last night. matter of fact, the line went out of the restaurant, along the front of the building, then, down the other side of the building..all the way to the back entrance.

the wait was two hours.

duuuuuude.

as a matter of fact, the host of the restaurant came by to get the number of people in each party, and in talking to the group behind me, said that last Saturday, the line made its way all the over to the exit of the park...about a quarter of a mile long line, he said.

duuuuuude. that ain't right.

so, being the first one there, i called the parents, driving over. and naturally, they had no intention of waiting two hours for dinner.

let's go get Mexican, my mom says. great, i reply. we've got a really good one just up the 91 freeway.

no. my mom says. we'll go to Senor Compost (i swear. that's what she calls it) in Whittier. that's about a seven mile drive from here. our restaurant is only three miles up the freeway. but it's the same distance according to my mom.

oh goody. let's go to Whittier.

there's something about people when they are absolutely convinced they're right. they are as firm in their conviction as a kernel of caramel corn stuck in your shag carpet.

my mom was that caramel corn in my shag carpet. even though i don't have shag.

dinner was OK. the company was way better. oh, and by the way, the restaurant is called Senor Compos.

and to quote the late great Gilda Radner's Emily Latilla from Saturday Night Live - well - now that's very different.
never mind.

in other weird news...
at my birthday dinner group's Christmas party, we somehow got on the subject of...leg cramps. and apparently, if you get them, the cure is to stick a bar of soap under your bottom sheet. the chick that told us about it, said she tried it.

it.really.worked.

well, allrighty, then.

i'm trying it tonight.

and in one last note...Hagan Daas has a holiday (read: limited edition) flavor out. green tea.

are you making a face? don't. if it's anything like the green tea ice cream we get any time we go to a Japanese Teppan restaurant, i will be in hog heaven.

so let's review: so far i've covered unreasonable parents, chicken dinners, Mexican food, leg cramps and bars of soap and green tea ice cream.

they don't call it Random Thoughts for nothing, kids.

all 'round the block...

i have not been kidnapped, abducted by aliens or sold into white slavery because i stopped to speak to a stranger asking directions.

which, kids, you should never ever do.
thus concludes your public service announcement for today.

no. it was far, far worse than that.

the Husband, in an attempt to not stay up all night doing homework (read dickin' around on the computer), has been taking the laptop with him to work and working on stuff during his breaks and lunches.

meanwhile, i go through withdrawals and wonder what i can do to fill my time in the afternoons.

read to kids? naaah. bake pies for the shelter? are you crazy? there are blogs to be read! emails to delete, er...respond to! shopping! there is shopping to be done! ONLINE!!!

and it has been a week.

Mom had an MRI today for her leg. you see, many moons ago, she fell at work (hmmm! could this be where my natural grace comes from?!) over boxes someone left around a blind corner. and occasionally, she tweaks herself wrong, and well...turns her into a frightful mess.

did i mention my poor Mom hates MRIs? poor woman would rather listen to the caterwauling of tone deaf tomcats as the Angelina Jolie of the catworld strutted by, than to go into THE TUBE OF DEATH.

even with drugs, she freaks out. and lucky her, she just got over a migraine this a.m. just in time to be launched into THE TUBE OF DEATH.

so she can get another migraine. lucky, lucky her.

and this week at work there is talk about starting a 5am shift.

5am? good mooglie googlie.
kids, i am SO not a morning person. a pleasant personality for me starts to develop around nine.

p.m.

so, of course, if i have to start at 5, i will. and let me tell you now, Gentle Reader, start buying stock in Coca-Cola and Starbucks.

because i will single-handed make it rise tenfold.

wait...there's a question from the back? yes? can you please speak a little louder? why are they considering a 5am shift?

why to deal with the East Coast sales reps for our company, naturally.
the ones that will be contacting us for questions regarding their ads.
because their former graphics' office in Valley Forge is being eliminated.

yep. the office i spent soooo much time in last summer is being closed early in '08.
they were told on Thursday.

Happy freaking Holidays, huh?

someone out there asked, and rightly so, why they were being closed now, why not last year when they were doing so horribly?

a great question. with no good answer.

as i've told y'all before, i've been at my company for 20 years. i have survived five layoffs. three at my location and two at other locations.

there but for the Grace of God.

i feel for them. the few that did bother to talk to me seemed really nice. fun people.
people who have mortgages, kids and bills. just like the rest of us.

and although it's 'just business,' it still sucks for people who life still goes on.

in other news...

today, i woke up @ 3:45.

did you know there's a 3:45 these days? whoever planned it sucks.

anywhoooo...

woke up. had to use the *ahem* powder room. could.not.go.back.to.sleep. so i did what every good scrapper/crafter/player of glue & paper does...

i played.

yep. 4 am and i'm trying to open my eyes enough to see the glue i'm trying to attach to some wooden letters.

it's a sickness, i tells ya.

so now, i'm ready for bed.
and really, really hoping that 3:45 stays right where it is.

away from me.

getting the finger for my finger.

what was the name of that book? "The Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day?"

it was written for me.

no doubt about it.

it's not that i woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i didn't. i felt good, my day started out great.

then, i got to work.

what was it my grandma used to say? oh yeah. it all went to hell in a henbasket.

or was it hand basket? no matter.


it was just nutty.
in case you didn't know, didn't care or plain ol' forgot, my job involves making sure my department is clear from all ads that are going to press that day.

today i had 175 incomplete ads, that all needed to be completed by 2pm.
riiiiight.

it was nutty. i got a headache that i still have. the breaking point, for me anyway, was when, around 1pm, one of the supervisors emails to all of us "should we split apart the reports?"

um, hello?! where was that brilliant idea earlier this morning when i had freaking near 200 ads to complete?

ah. mental greatness.

so. we eventually got done. but in the meantime...

i had an appointment with my old orthopedic doctor today. my right index finger hurts. really hurts. especially on the side of my knuckle. i assume it's arthritis, i do have it, just in my hips, not my finger.
and did i mention i'm right handed?

fun.

today, my doctor's office manager called. seems they don't accept my insurance any longer, so i would have to be considered as a cash patient.

so how much would it cost for me to be a cash patient today? i ask.

ummmmm, about $315.

three hundred and fif....holy freaking crap. i guess i'll live with the pain.

(actually, i'll just call my regular doctor. even though he's a schmuck and i cannot stand him.)

then.

i stopped at the grocery store on my way home tonight. and, of course, got in the line being held up by the elderly woman in a wheelchair, arguing the price of a cheap bottle of whiskey. then her son said "ma, remember what happened last time. the mobile home association sent you that letter and stuff."

except he didn't say stuff. and no, i'm not making this up. you cannot make this stuff up.

as i rolled my eyes, the store manager walked by, touched my arm and said "miss, i'll help you on 7."

ooooh! he said miss!!!!

i unloaded my stuff. then, this giant lug of a courtesy clerk (we called 'em bag boys in my day, dagnabbit) stops at the end of the checkout stand and the manager asked him to pick up the baskets...don't just stand there.

so he walks to the head of the check out stand. right.past.me. hello?! is my butt invisible?

well, my butt may be, but i guarantee my mouth wasn't.

can you say excuse me? i snapped. yes, Gentle Reader, i was bitchy. and i liked it.

he looked at me. i honestly don't think he had a concept of what i was saying. the woman behind me, however, was laughing her butt off.

the manager didn't look amused. he tried to apologize, but i shut him down with some trite comment to the effect of rudekidsinamericathesedays, whodotheirparentsthinkthey'redoingafavornotdisciplining,needstoshowsomerespectandiamneverEVERsteppingfootinthisstoreagain.

whatever.

so - what have we learned today?
* good ideas aren't, if they come too late.
* my insurance sucks right now.
* finger still hurts.
* rude people suck.
and most importantly -
* i'm gonna be that cranky old broad that yells at the kids to 'get off my lawn.'

time for my meds. too bad i don't have any.

Michael Vick, you're a....

schmuck.

what...what'd you think i was gonna say?

i wasn't gonna comment on this, but today, after watching the news today...well...

i really, really get tired of people, celebrities and non, when they get caught doing wrong, say they have 'found God.'

like they expect the Lord is a 'get outta jail free card' and we, the Public, has to forgive 'em.
any maybe, just maybe, they'll get a reduced sentence. be forgiven by us, the people who pay their salaries.

there's been a few...a very few, who i truly believe DID, through their crimes or mistakes or whatever, really did find a personal relationship with God, have allowed Him to change their lives and truly is now living the life they say they are.

Chuck Colson comes to mind.

but most of these clowns, er...people, i don't think are sorry for everything they did, just sorry that they got caught.

i didn't used to be this cynical.
but maybe the new trifocals are making me see things differently.
even if i don't have 'em yet.

so with Vick, the true test, i believe, will be to see what his life becomes after this is all over. if he still has, in his words, 'found Jesus.'

you don't have to find Him. He's right there next to you - all the time.
let's see if Vick knows that, too.

i *do not heart* my job.

i kept telling myself all day, "we only make phone books. we do not build airplanes. we do not cure disease."

and it's a damn good thing we don't build airplanes. i would never EVER fly.

ever.

here's a quick recap on my job: i work reports all.day.long., ensuring that the graphics department is clear on all ads for the many different books going to the printer that day.

except today.

today was bad.

normally, we get a daily paging schedule from the paging department. they break down the different advertising headings for us, letting us know what they will be sending to the printer. then, we go to town.

except today.

today was bad.

the chickie who normally sends out the schedule, has been out on vay-cay all week.
lucky her.
so, her supervisor has been doing them.
lucky us.

granted, this is not his forte. so our department has been cutting him slack as he's been getting the schedule to us later and later in the day. we really need it by 8:30am, especially since paging gives graphics until 2pm every day to be clear on our forms.

today, we got ours around 11am. at 11:02, my friend come running over, a little on the freaked-out side.

it seems that suddenly, a big book has moved from paging Monday to today.
t-o-d-a-y. u-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-h.

that no good. bad medicine.

oh, and the best part is that we actually were supposed to be clear on it yesterday.
so that, along with the other books we had to be cleared on, made for one extremely stressed workgroup, AND overtime on Saturday.

and one unhappy me.

it's OK. it'll all be good. but.......

more aggrivation. tomorrow, our workgroup is having a pot luck.
we have four people going in on egg rolls.
why? because the woman who's ordering them wants them for herself. she just doesn't want to pay for all of them.

breathe. breathe. breathe.

another chickie in our group has been on Weight Watchers for some time now. and, the other day at lunch, mutters just loud enough to sort of be heard, 'well, i'm not participating at the potluck.' after a few minutes badgering, she finally says it again. outloud.

why? 'because there's nothing there i can eat.'
then bring something you can eat.
p.s. - it didn't bother you two days ago when people brought all kinds of snackies. you were there bellying up to the bar.

so, while looking over the list today, i realize no one signed up for sodas...which is unusual, considering that boys like soda. it's cheap. it's easy.

and no one chose it. BUT! i do have two guys who signed up with a ? - which is good, because then i can get soda.

boy #1, who is notoriously cheap, says he's already bought chips.
goody. that means he went to the 99cents only store.

boy #2, who is even MORE cheap than boy #1 also has a ? down.
i ask him if he would get the sodas.
he looks me square in the eye, laughs and says no.

wait...what? you said no?

fine.

so today, i not only bought my food contribution, i also bought sodas.

am i bitter? oh youbetcha. as is my best friend, who is also peeved about this whole thing. we talked later and decided that with what we've both spent on the potluck, we could've had a really good lunch.

or dinner AND drinks at the Outback.

or better yet. we just won't play. if no one else will play fair, why should we?

yep. i'm bitter. i'm cranky. i'm tired of playing by the right way when no one else does. at work and in life.

i could bring this around to the baby thing again, but i really am trying to put my big-girl panties on.

and keep 'em on.
i need ice cream.

suckin' it up with the big girl panties.

you know what? sometimes it sucks being a grown up.

especially when you're surrounded by children that are only a year or two younger than you.

let's get into it, shall we?!

Thursday night, some of my friends from work all got together for a birthday. you remember this stuff, we meet someplace at the birthday person's choosing and have a nice dinner, split the bill and go on our merry little ways.

last night, we met at a place near work called BJ's pizza and brewhouse.
(wait...they have pizza AND beer? together?? in the same location?! it's a miracle from heaven.)
but when i got there, the auntie of the chickie who just had the baby jumps me like i had just kicked three puppies across the parking lot.

"did you make reservations?"

well, no. i tried the last time we were here and they said they didn't take them except for really large parties.

"well, we don't have reservations and it's a two hour wait."

i should clarify that the two hour wait is because Thursday was graduation night for most of the high schools in the Long Beach Unified School District...a find scholastic district that produced such luminaries as Cameron Diaz...Snoop Doggy Dog...and me.

and just for the record: i haven't smoked pot nor slept with Justin Timberlake.

so immediately it is my fault that we have to wait two hours.

and just for the second part of the record, everyone is out to get this other girl and the world is against her, blah, blah, blah.

meanwhile, the rest of our party arrives, and at one point, my friend Melissa (sorry, the California Melissa, not my Mississippi Melissa) goes to the front counter just to check how much longer it will be.

"well, asking isn't going to make it go any faster," the blond chickie behind the counter says. "if you think the wait is too long, maybe you should just leave."

wait. rewind.

"what did you say?!" my friend says in disbelief. blond chickie's eyes got as big as my ass.
she tries to backpedal..."oh, nothing."

"oh nothing my foot!" Melissa says. "you tell me what you said."

and the chickie is stupid enough to repeat it.
Melissa is stupid enough to call for the manager. who apologizes profusely and in turn gets us a table.

so the 45 minute wait was much better than the 2 hour projected wait.

and not that i would wish others ill-will, but i kinda meanly hope that blond chickie gets fired. or at least some serious lessons in customer service. because you just don't treat people like that.

and especially not our little group.

more tomorrow...on why we think the auntie is taking over the motherhood duties of her niece's baby and why i think our friend's 21 year old daughter has a drinking problem.

dontcha wish your friends were fun like mine? peace out.

jump back. you are in the presence of greatness.

ok, not really. but it sounds good.

i got home from another hellacious day at work. (note: the Boss is away on paternity leave for three weeks. i'm in charge. i've already had trouble with some in my group. this is not fun)
surprisingly, i didn't crack open the margarita mix OR the Ben & Jerry's.

aren't you proud? you should be.

the fun thing going on, is that they are slurrying the parking area here at Casa de O'Mahony. they think it'll take all week, so we're parking on the street, along with the complex next door AND the houses around our place.

doesn't this sound like fun?!

so today, i decided to cook up some spaghetti sauce and cook some snausages in our Ronco Showtime Rotisserie Grill.
(yes. we have one. the husband found one slightly used @ a car parts swap meet he loves to frequent. he and i are such suckers for the stuff on infomercials. we don't buy. we're just suckers for the informercials. and yes, it works pretty well)

the snausages are now basking in the warm loving glow of spaghetti sauce.

here's my issue: when Husband and i were courting, i, being a firm believer that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach, blah, blah, blah. so, again, using the Nancy Drew Cookbook (as i have for a gazillion years), i would make him spaghetti & meatballs or snausages, with home-made/from scratch sauce.

what.was.i.thinking. i have created a monster. he will no longer eat any other sauce than mine. don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining. really. it's just a pain sometimes when i feel pressed for time and he sounds sooo pathetic when i say i may get a jar from the store.

and i am such a pushover.

but - back to the presence of greatness.
i'm just feeling pretty dang efficient, so that when himself comes home, all i have to do is put the pasta on. and that only takes about 12 minutes.

(edited: the Husband just called. i had called him earlier and asked which he would prefer with his spaghetti: snausage or meatballs. i assumed he'd pick snausage. he just called to say he wants meatballs. too bad, i say {so sympathetic}. you're getting snausages. "yeah, but if you cook meatballs, then i can have both." he says. and like a fool, i'm cooking both. i guess since he threw me a party i can make the meatballs. but now we're even.)

que bueno.

you may kiss my ring.

in other news....

Linda has stole...er, borrowed, 8 random things. so i'm gonna think of 8 more here.

1. while i LOVE George Clooney and think he's one of the coolest beings on the planet, i have not seen any of the "Ocean's" movies. and they look totally cool and fun.
2. in elementary school, one of my friends, who was a guy, and i looked like we were brother & sister. we told people our parents had been married, divorced and remarried, with our mom taking me, and our dad taking him.
3. i love peanut butter & banana sammiches
4. i was in Who's Who of American High School Students two years in a row
5. i love Disneyland, but never did like Disney cartoon shorts.
6. once won blue ribbons at some piano recitals. but that was a long time ago.
7. never learned to roller skate. and unless they come up with a big ass skate for my big ass, it ain't a gonna happen, neither.
8. i always wanted to be a monster @ Knott's Berry Farm Halloween Haunt. closest i ever came to it was being an archaeologist in a mummy maze for the kids' haunt. we gave away Snoopy watches and my niece & nephews all got a LOT of watches for Christmas.

ta. happy Monday.

oh my.

have you ever loved someone soooo much, yet wanted to hurt them all at the same time?

it sucks to be me right now.

Why I Love Working - an Essay

(don't worry. it'll be short.)

i love working because of the challenge each new day brings. Every day is a chance for me to be able to face new obstacles and find a new way to meet them head-on.

i also appreciate the people i work with. Every day, they do everything they can to make my job easier and smoother, so i can leave at the end of a day with a smile on my face, head held high that i have done worthwhile work each and every day.

Oh, and of course there's the money, but i wouldn't be so crass as to say i only work for money.

Come now.

Today was one of those days where i was damning the powers that be because WE didn't win the lotto. And if they had come by and said they were eliminating my job, well, i'd-a had my desk packed up before they got their little speech of how "this isn't a reflection on your work, but just a matter of budgets, blah, blah, blah."

Then, to have my new supervisor rebuke me because i didn't ask for help. Oh, my bad...first off, i hate asking for help, and secondly, who would i have asked? You, oh supervisor, were busy having someone else in our group work a special project so she couldn't get her job done, my old supervisor is coming in nights (and wasn't much help even when she was my supervisor), and the other two were doing other projects as well.

Besides, (i thought to myself) the Big Boss has stated on more than one occasion, when any of the supervisors see how many ads i have incomplete on a day is over 20, they are to jump in and help me clear reports. No asking necessary.

But no one seems to remember that. Because i'm so good at what i do. (but really because no one wants to do my job.)

So i get my hands slapped while i'm so freaking frustrated, i can't even look at him, because i know i'll start crying.

Ain't it great to be a girl??

i get tired of complaining about the same thing over & over. i have people at my department that will seriously look me in the eye and say "i didn't know it was a rush. it wasn't tagged." never mind that you get a memo every day that says what is going to press that day. my bad it wasn't tagged.

What i want to do, is every time i find someone not working in priority, is make them work my reports for even half a day.

They'd be soooo happy to go back to their normal job, they'd be dancing...and likely never EVER work out of order again.

**sigh** i guess if you've read this far, then you deserve a "get out of jail free" card. So instead, i'll give you a "get out of a whining blog entry" card.

TGI[almost]F, kids.