Realization begins to strike…

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OK, I think I have figured out part of what is pissing me off. Besides the meatloaf (grrrr).

One of the managers at my company has just fathered a child with one of the waitresses. He’s got kids from other relationships, she’s got a kid or so herself. And now – da dum! – they are no longer ‘together’. (I only know all of this because she needed pay data for Medicaid).

DAMMIT. How the fuck do people in willy nilly relationships get to pop babies out the way I pop pieces of bubble gum but I am supposed to wait for the sun, the moon, the stars and my big toe to align??

I am tired of waiting. I am going to turn 29 (again) in less than two months. I will have been married 5 farking years in July. I even have decent health insurance, so that would mean that tax payers would most likely not get stuck footing the bill for Plan B.

I’m all for waiting for a good time for this, but, fucking A, my most fertile years are BEHIND ME. By the time Mom was my age, she was pregnant with Round Two (Macauley/Bill). By the time my Grandma was my age, she was somewhere between baby #3 and baby #4.

I have waited to pay off the car….I have waited to pay off the credit cards….I am waiting for the second mortage/home equity loan to be paid off and my 401k loan to be paid off (why didn’t I take Gene up on his offer to write a check for the freaking balance last year??). And I AM TIRED of waiting. This is all freaking ridiculous.

It is time, it is time, it is time. (I almost used the F word in that last sentence, but I think it would have been a little too accurate, yeah?)


Crabby Abby

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I am in a totally awful mood. No, I don’t know why. The meatloaf hadn’t thawed enough to cook and all I want to do is sit right where I am. No cooking (I microwaved Healthy Choice turkey for Gene and that’s all), no treadmill, no chores (well, I loaded the dishwasher).

Geez, I hope tomorrow is a better day.


Ha ha ha….

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So I made the mistake of looking up my score on the Body Mass Index.

I have lost 38 pounds. From 223 to 185.

I still rate as “obese” (less obese than before, but still…)

Dammit.

I have a doctor’s appointment sometime soon to be retested for the high cholesterol and the prediabetes. I want so very badly to have fixed the prediabetes problem. (Trivia: in the South, some call diabetes ‘the sugar’). Not so I can start eating like before but so I can just stop taking my blood glucose reading every day. I do not like pricking my finger. I do not enjoy worrying about if I’ve bled enough to make the machine tell me what my magic # is.

I DEFINITELY do not like that my readings have gone up slightly. I blame it on the no sugar added Breyers ice cream that I’ve eaten the last two nights after dinner. Hmm. What do I cover it in? Oh, right, chocolate syrup. (Maybe a tablespoon of it).

And wasn’t that a “Well, DUH” moment.

PS: If I magically start weighing 145-ish I will be considered normal. Forty more pounds….bring on the crack, hold the chocolate syrup.

PPS: Another goal is to stop looking more pregnant than the girl at work who is 7 months along.

PPPS: The same coworker who christened last year “Two thousand sucks” tells me I have lost a lot of weight and now have saggy butt (that’s what I get for trying to wear pants that only fit me marginally even before the weight loss). Part of me takes that as a compliment.

PPPPS: And I tried to buy pants today. I’m still too big for 16 and too small for 18. I mean, that’s great and all, but I sure would like to have more than 3 pairs of work pants that fit reasonably and 5 pairs of jeans that fit, more or less.

PPPPPS: Actually, hold the crack as well. I think perhaps an eating disorder might work better as they are much cheaper than crack. And I think Gene would notice if I tried to pawn the TV to pay for some rocks.


Tis The Season…

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Well, party people, as I’ve said before, I work in payroll for a small company (~1700 employees total). And guess what’s due to each and every one of them postmarked or otherwise delivered no later than January 31?

Why, W-2 forms, of course.

So (there’s that “So” again…), that’s what I’ve been up to this week. While not as maddening in the short term as the first payroll of the year (remember? When the computers were down for 2 straight days and I worked until 9 one night, until 12 the next and then 12 hours on a Saturday?), it is just as annoying because it lasts longer.

Current employee W-2s came to each location today. Inactive employee W-2s were mailed today. I was responsible for sorting them. (Keep in mind that, by and large, some of these people can’t keep a job for more than, in some cases 3 whole hours, so we actually printed a total of 5,000 or so W-2s, which, to my math, represents 300% turnover).

In some cases, a current employee’s W-2 may have accidentally made it into the inactive stack. In one such case, the employee called me CRYING because her W-2 wasn’t there. “This is the worst thing ever!”

I TRY to have sympathy, but anyone whose entire financial stability hinges on one single W-2** really needs to develop a Plan B. I CANNOT do anything now (not entirely true: I can reprint the W-2, but if I do it for her, I’ll have to do it for the other 4,999 as well). The W-2 is addressed correctly (woohoo) so she should receive it by Tuesday or so.

And damn you H&R Block for taking advantage of these poor suckers with your “NO W-2 needed!” tax filing and your “Refund Anticipation MasterCards!”. Beyond the whole issue of this being a short term solution that ultimately hurts the client (or employee in my case), it is a gigantic pain in the ass for people in my position. Do you know how much year to date data I faxed hither, tither and yon? A freaking lot.

** I do not mean “financial stability” as “Let’s take our refund and buy a stove”, I literally mean financial stability, folks. The difference between roof and no roof, bread and no bread, crack and no crack, etc. The years we’ve had refunds I’ve been pleased but you cannot count on your refund like it’s a source of income.



The dangers of lip-synching

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Gene’s morning meeting begins with music. Actually, what he does is turns the iPod to something non-threatening (this is a concern as his iPod play list includes a lot of songs that are typically under the banner of “Pole Anthems”) and cranks it up. Today’s first selection was “Brandy, You’re a Fine Girl” (speaking of, Hi Brandy!) and he was doing obscene hand motions along with the song. For the “What a good wife you would be”, the motion was to make a circle with one hand and use the other hand’s index finger to …. err…. whatever.

Do you remember that gross thing boys did in the 3rd grade to signify sex? Yeah, that’s it.

Anyway! So I said “That’s not the motion for WIFE”

Heh. Oh, yeah…. I wonder if people were on the phone at that point. I kinda think not, since it was still a few minutes before 8, but you never know. If my next post is from a scenic locale such as Bangalore, Bangladesh or Texas, you’ll know.

Speaking of, did I tell you about the time I set our burglar alarm off in the middle of his meeting? Whoooops.


I Have So Many Things I Want to Tell You!

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I couldn’t get to my blog the last two days. Ugh. Apparently, Gene rebooting the wireless internet (or something – there are a lot of gizmos in his office) fixed it. Wheee!

Anyway, I can finally see pictures on blogs, I can get to my blog and I have a better than average chance of connecting to other websites.

There’s only one thing I want to ask right now: How many of you use your phone books? How many phone books do you keep around? How often do you use them?

The reason I ask is that Gene just threw away all of our phone books because that is his idea of decluttering. Frankly, if he wants to declutter, he can empty out the space in the console in the Murano that he has velcro’d pepper spray. Ugh. And did I tell you about the baton (you know, like a policeman’s baton? Except smaller? But expandable?)? And the laser sight on the hand gun?

(Truth be told I’m not annoyed about any of that. Gene says that the pepper spray, the baton and the laser sight all give “options” in case he ever gets in a shootout in suburbia needs to defend wife, dogs, etc from a bad guy).

I could go on, but it’s against the rules I’ve arbitrarily set up to keep me from insulting him in a forum he doesn’t get to read. (Unless he does read, in which case, LOVE YOU)


Two Hour Delay, please

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Cheesecake City finally has some shitty weather and what does my employer do about it?

Not a damn thing.

I keep calling and checking my voicemail in vain, hoping our HR Director (Old Boss) leaves the voicemail that says “Meh, it’s icy outside, come in later”. However, she 1) Has a 4×4 Jeep and 2) Lives 5 minutes from the office, so I think I am screwed.

(Listen, yes, I am from the North where we have weather worse than this at least a month or two but what part of “I Hate My Job” do you not understand? I don’t want the delay so I can go frolic in the … ice or whatever, I want the delay so I don’t have to be there.)


The 10,000 Steps

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So, the brainiacs at the Diabetes Center told me I should walk 10,000 steps a day. I said, I walk 1.6 miles a day. Isn’t that like 80,000 steps?

Turns out it’s only 4300-ish.

Arrrgh.

Why don’t doctors realize that before I embraced the whole “no chocolate*, no soda+, more water, more walking” lifestyle that I never ever walked? I deserve a frigging tickertape parade for even going the 1.6 miles.

* Did I tell you Gene bought me a 4 pack of Godiva over the weekend? Mmmm.

+ Diet soda doesn’t count. Oh, and for full disclosure I have only had around 32 oz of water today. Weight Watchers doesn’t count caffeinated diet soda as water, but Elaine does. So there.

Did I tell you I actually maintained (that is, did not gain) my weight over Xmas? And that includes being totally off medications. I was shocked when I weighed myself after the trip to IN/OH.


Meet me in St. Louis, Louis?

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So, recently Gene has been hopped up about wanting to visit St. Louis, MO. It was a real puzzle to me. Why St. Louis? It’s around 16 hours away and I wasn’t especially excited about taking vacation time to go there. And for some reason, he was insistent upon visiting over one specific time period (April 12-15). He swore up and down it was because it was such a neat city, and it may well be, but, still? Missouri, when we haven’t even been to the big city 3 hours away? Or another long weekend in Washington DC? Or, mmm, a cruise?

You seriously think the last vacation we’ll take needs to be to MISSOURI??? (For the record, we haven’t taken a fun vacation* in many moons and I’d sure like to cram one more in)

Luckily, my friend Julie and I were IMing through Gmail and I told her about this whole thing and how I suspected something was odd. I said that I figured it was a Star Wars convention, a Star Trek convention, a Stargate convention, or a National Rifle Association convention.

Hmm. Called it!

(Ah, Gene, you scurvy bugger…. hee hee!)

“How did you find out?”

“I have the INTERNET in front of me nearly all day every day. Did you think I couldn’t surf over there and type ‘convention’ into their search engine?”

Problem kinda solved. If Gene goes, he’ll take his brother with instead of me. Yippee!

And, that is how I scored my girls weekend in Detroit.

Say it with me.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

* fun vacation = Gene plus Elaine minus The Boy plus Drink of the Day plus Fancy hotel room minus any family (his or mine)

(Yes, I know, I’m a total ass. Yes, I know, what do I plan to do about vacations after Plan B? Well, after Plan B there will be no more vacations ever so now is the time.)