101 Things About Me:

1. My favorite food is the Quesadilla.

2. My rat's full name is Quesa Dilla. Two words.

3. I have always lived in Houston.

4. My parents still live in the house I grew up in.

5. My sister is half my age, but two inches taller than me.

6. I feel 42, but I act 18.

7. I just started breaking out on my face last year.

8. If I had it my way, I would never shave.

9. I almost erased #7 cause I suddenly got embarrassed, but then I realized that you people don't know who I really am.

10. I see myself as tough, but my sister knows better.

11. My sister lets me think that I am stronger than her.

12. My sister has seen me cry more times than anyone else.

13. I am smart, but not wise.

14. I always date loser guys.

15. I thought girls were supposed to be attracted to guys like their fathers. I have yet to meet someone tall, wise, strong, controlled, and calming.

16. I was diagnosed with bipolar when I was 21.

17. I don't take medication because I don't like feeling like someone else. Or like someone else wants me to feel. I like feeling like me.

18. When I get mad, I cry.

19. Everyone in my family thinks I'm violent, but I've never been in a fist fight.

20. When I was younger, I would get angry easily, and my mom and dad would fight me. I never fought back.

21. I love the beach. Any beach.

22. I hate wearing shorts.

23. I wear jeans to the beach all the time. In the middle of summer.

24. I want to get a tan, but I don't like the sun cause it makes me sweat.

25. I like my job better than I liked my management job.

26. My Ford Fuckus is the first car I've ever owned. I've owned 4 trucks, and 2 SUVs.

27. I don't have an extensive vocabulary.

28. I tell people I can't read. But really, I don't like to read.

29. The last book I read was "A Light in the Attic". I reread it to help cheer myself up.

30. When I was 5, I wanted to be a corporate lawyer because I liked power and money.

31. My dad was so proud when he heard that.

32. I dropped out of college to be a manager. I still wanted power and money. I thought I would have it there.

33. My dad was never more disappointed.

34. I used to tell people my dream car is a limo cause you get to have your own driver.

35. I don't like to associate myself with people who know more than me.

36. I am regretting double spacing this list.

37. I like chocolate, but not solid chocolate bars or chocolate ice cream.

38. In the middle of summer, I order hot chocolate from Starbucks.

39. I tell my parents the massages at work are free so they don't complain how I spend my money.

40. I've been in debt three times already, and almost had to declare bankrupsy.

41. I have never been a good speller. I lost a spelling bee when I was 6 in the first round. My parents were in the audience.

42. I used be in handbells.

43. I thought I was a musical genius.

44. I've only been out-of-state to Colorado, California, Missouri and now Florida.

45. My favorite number is 27.

46. I have a soul mate. But he is in love with me, and he is thinking about never talking to me again so he can move on with his life.

47. I usually only have one friend at a time.

48. I've only thrown up one time from being drunk. It was my 21st birthday. I drank for 14 hours straight.

49. My dad bought all the alcohol.

50. People who are close to me tell me that my friends use me all the time.

51. I just realized that these things are supposed to be one sentence long.

52. My mom thinks I'm negative all the time.

53. I just think I'm being funny.

54. My favorite thing to do is to make my dad laugh.

55. Very, very few people make my dad laugh.

56. When I was younger, I told everyone that I would always live in a big city.

57. More and more, I want to live in a small town.

58. In order for me to move to a small town, they need to have a Taco Bell.

59. Taco Bell was the first solid food I ever ate.

60. My mom craved Chinese food when she was prego with me; I think that's why I hate it now.

61. I like guys with good teeth.

62. And a good sense of humor.

63. Scary movies make me think of my own mortality.

64. I always over dramatize the things that go wrong in my life.

65. I bought my first pair of heels two weeks ago.

66. I lost my virginity at 18 with my first love.

67. We were on again off again for seven years.

68. He ended up getting some chick, who was 5 years younger than him, prego and married her the next year.

69. Back then that was a big age difference.

70. The oldest guy I've dated was 36.

71. The oldest guy I had ever had a crush on was 51.

72. Sometimes I check the local paper to see if anyone I know is getting married.

73. In Mexican years, 25 is an old maid.

74. I've always had a blankie like Linus.

75. I hate going to the grocery store.

76. My dad always called the "dreaded place".

77. My favorite word is "Odale". It means "aw, hell" in Spanish.

78. I don't like my feet, and I cover it up by saying that I don't like anyone's feet.

79. My sister is my mother's clone, and that's scary.

80. My dad hardly ever says what he is thinking, so when I'm around the family I walk around talking in a low voice saying things I think my dad is thinking, and I'm usually right, and everyone laughs.

81. I am always early to appointments.

82. I hate when my plans get changed.

83. I don't talk to anyone I went to high school with.

84. I was a band nerd in high school.

85. I was a hot band nerd in high school.

86. I accepted two date offers to my junior year band banquet, and it was the scandel of the year.

87. I am always bumping into things.

88. My sister called me "orange juice" for a whole year because I dyed my hair blonde and red at the same time.

89. I don't like being the oldest child.

90. I resent my sister for being the "baby".

91. My dad is worth more dead than alive.

92. I am worth the same dead or alive.

93. Unfortunately, my mom is worth more alive.

94. My mom used to tell me to call her "mother dearest".

95. Between the ages of 3 and 13, I had a fro because my parents didn't think it was proper for a young lady to put anything in her hair.

96. I am really good with directions.

97. It aggrevates me to no end when people aren't good at math.

98. I went to a Royal Rumble when I was 11, and waived around a foam Hacksaw Jim Duggan 2x4.

99. My IQ is 148.

100. I can't get a good job because I have no degree.

101. I have no intention of going back to school any time in the near or distant future.

102. The last time I went back to school, they diagnosed me with ADHD, but I think I was just bored.


Oops! I did 102 Things about myself. Ha!
Well, there ya go.
I can't wait to see this post, It's gonna be long as hell.

Today's Cafeteria Menu:
Chicken Enchiladas
Rice
Beans a la charra

I am so full, I think I'm actually going to explode this time. I think I'm going to do that 101 things about myself list. If I can think of 101 things about myself that won't give away my true identity. Hmmft. This should prove to be interesting.

In the mean time, here's an oldie but goodie:

Duties I perform [after a hurricane] each day because I have No Actual duties to perform [after a hurricane] each day:

1. Tell everyone I see that I flew in a private plane to show them I'm a big balla, shot calla.

2. Tell everyone I see that I was sick like a dog every day I was in paradise...I mean, Destin, FL, so I can play up the sympathy card.

3. Wonder if answering "no" to the question "Is your house alright?" will lead to free things.

4. Daydream about how sweet it would have been if my car would have drowned and I would have been driving a brand new Mazda right now. But no, I still have my Fuckus*.

5. Thank heavens I still have my mattress.

6. Make excuses for my lack luster performance at work by stating I am "still dehydrated" from being "stuck" in Beaumont for "8 hours".

7. Realize that my co-workers missed me more than I missed them.

8. Further realize that the only reason my co-workers missed me was because they had to fill in for me while I was gone.

9. Smile, knowing that I was in paradise for six days on an all expense paid hurrication** in the most beautiful town I'd ever seen.

10. Plot to kill the person who replaced my beloved, but evil retarded llama glue stick. I don't know what this new glue stick is like. I'm thinking a rodeo cowboy. I'll have a follow up post to keep you all informed of this new glue stick's development.

*Ford Focus
**Hurrication: noun, used to describe a hurricane evacuation turned vacation. ie: There's no better place for a hurrication than beautiful Destin, FL.

This memo was sent to my mom from the President of the company:


To all Employee's:As a result of the reduction of money budgeted for department areas, we are forced to cut down on our number of personnel.

Under this plan, older employees will be asked to go on early retirement, thus permitting the retention of the younger people who represent our future.
Therefore, a program to phase out older personnel by the end of the current fiscal year, via retirement, will be placed into effect immediately.
This program will be known as SLAP (Sever Late Aged Personnel).Employees who are SLAPPED will be given the opportunity to look for jobs outside the company. Provided they are SLAPPED, they can request a review of their employment records before actual retirement takes place.
This phase of the operation is called SCREW (Survey of Capabilities of RetiredEarly Workers).

All employees who have been SLAPPED or SCREWED may file an appeal with the upper management. This is called SHAFT (Study by Higher AuthorityFollowing Termination). Under the terms of the new policy, an employee may be SLAPPED once, SCREWED twice, but may be SHAFTED as many times asthe company deems appropriate.

If an employee follows the above procedures, he/she will be entitled toget HERPES (Half Earnings for Retired Personnel's Early Severance) or CLAP (Combined Lump sum Assistance Payment) unless he/she already has AIDS (Additional Income From Dependents or Spouse). As HERPES or CLAP are considered benefit plans, any employee who has received HERPES or CLAPwill no longer be SLAPPED or SCREWED by the company.

Management wishes to assure the younger employees who remain on board that the company will continue its policy to train employees through our Special High Intensity Training (SHIT). This company takes pride in the amount of SHIT our employees receive. We have given our employees moreSHIT than any company in this area. If any employee feels they do not receive enough SHIT on the job, see your immediate supervisor.

YOUR SUPERVISOR IS SPECIALLY TRAINED TO MAKE SURE YOU RECEIVE ALL THE SHIT YOU CAN STAND. (Please see our previously issued memo on SHIT for more information.)

No one hurts me and gets away with it.
No one deserves to die more than him.
The reason has been hidden to protect me.
Fuck him.
He can't protect me anymore.
He is dead to me now.
I wished for the hurricane to wash him away.
To wash the memories away.
The sadness away.
All traces of him and us.
It hurts worse.
Worse than everything else.
He owes me.
An explanation.
A sentimental gesture.
Closure.
He will pay with his life.
He will pay with the turmoil of his life.
Of the drugs.
Of his abandoned children.
Of his estranged wife.
He will know pain like he doesn't know emotion.
He doesn't even care.
He goes on with his life like I was never there.
I guess I never was.

I lost Secret LB the night before we left for Florida. It was the night I came back to Houston after being stranded in Beaumont for eight hours. He stayed in Houston to ride out the storm. He told me he never wanted to see me again. He said he had too many things going on in his life right now. He said the last thing he needed was to be in a relationship with anyone. Those were not reasons. Those were excuses. He never gave me the real reason he ended it. This time it's for real.

Thank you, BS for showing me this site. I answered the questions truthfully. Even tho this quiz is supposed to be for entertainment purposes only, I feel like it gave me an outlet to express how I was feeling this weekend in the midst of everything else going wrong.


You kill for revenge.
That is because you have lost something or
someone you held very dear. Now you can't seem
to get over the loss that marked your soul, and
the only solution is to go after the one person
who brought all this pain to you. Chances are
you are angry inside and you bottle everything
up and don't talk to anyone about it. People
may want to help, but you think that they can
never understand your pain and only get
frustrated because of this. But it is important
to see all that you have left and be thankful
of that even if you have lost something great.
It may not be true that Times heals all wounds,
but with time and talking about your feelings,
maybe the hurt will ease.

Main weapon: Yourself
Quote: "You can close your eyes to
reality but not to memories" -Stainslaw J.
Lec
Facial expression: Gritted teeth and
teary eyes

What Type of Killer Are You? [cool pictures]
brought to you by

Friday: Day Two

05:35 - My cell phone rang.

05:38 - My cell phone rang again.

05:49 - The third time my cell phone rang, I answered it. It was one of my friends who stayed behind. She said the storm was coming and that we should head out right now. I went back to sleep.

06:30 - I woke back up and crawled off the couch. My parents were already wide awake. I asked my Dad what the verdit was. He wanted to leave, but my Mom wanted to stay. So we decided to stay. At my parent's house. With a hurricane heading for us. [At this point the hurricane was still scheduled to make land fall near Galveston.] My Dad didn't want to chance being stuck in more traffic on the freeway like yesterday.

09:00 - My Aunt and Uncle called from Florida. They were worried sick about us. They said they would charter a plane to fly us to Florida. What? A private plane? You're crazy.

09:24 - They called back. It would only be four thousand dollars. We couldn't let them do that. No way. We'll think about it.

09:32 - The plane for four thousand was only a four seater. We had six people, plus animals. The cost was now fourteen thousand. Oh hell no. Thanks for the offer. No way. We can't. My Aunt and Uncle insisted. They would wire the money. They would pay. They wanted us safe. No way. There's no way we wanted them to do that.

09:35 - My Dad announces to everyone: Pack ONE bag. That's all. One bag per person. We were going to catch the plane.

11:35 - We arrive at the private air terminal. The doors are locked. The manager comes to the door. "We're all shut down." We give him the plane number. Maybe he knows about a private plane coming in to get us. "That's not one of our planes. That number doesn't check out." We get on the phone with Aunt and Uncle. They make a few phone calls, and before you know it, we are sitting inside this fancy private air terminal and they are bringing us bottled water, cheese trays, and danishes.

12:31 - A plane taxis up to the door. "Is that ours?" I asked. "No, that plane is too big to be yours." Oh crap. What did we get ourselves into.

12:38 - Our plane arrives. It's a seven passenger prop plane. We climbed in and prayed. As the plane took off, I realized at that moment, I didn't want to die. I was such a bad flier, and I didn't even know it. It's been years since I had been in a plane. I can't even remember. I cried during take off. Half because I had been sick for two days and my brain felt like it was going to explode. Half because I didn't want to die.

15:10 - The plane ride was smooth. And the landing was smooth. I had never been so happy to be alive. I ran out and hugged my Aunt and Uncle, and everyone cried. They saved our lives.

Later that day and throughout the weekend, we would learn that Rita didn't hit Galveston. It barely hit Houston. I cringed every time I saw the news. I felt like they had wasted money on us. Like it would have been worth it if we lost our house, or atleast our cars.

We decided it was a vacation. We went to the beach. We went out to eat. We are going shopping today.

My work called and said the building was open today. I am supposed to be at work right now. We are returning Tuesday evening if all goes well with our connecting flight out of Dallas. One thing I didn't intend on losing in the hurricane was my job.

Tales from Rita:

06:00 - My cell phone rings. "Dad's already home. Get packed, and head over here." My mom called to wake me up. We hadn't expected my dad to get home so early on Thursday morning. We didn't expect to leave for Florida until atleast 9am. I struggled to get out of bed. I took a nice long shower, convinced that it was going to be my last shower in a couple of days. I packed my one bag, a carry-on, and Quesa.

07:45 - I waited in line for thirty minutes at a neighborhood gas station. One of the only places in town that was open. They only had supreme gasoline left. And they only took credit cards. I felt sorry for anyone who didn't own a credit card. You can't really survive in the world now days without one, and this was one time you didn't want to be without one.

08:15 - I arrived at the retirement community where my Grandma was waiting for me to pick her up and load her bags in my car. I went upstairs to her apartment to find she had packed five bags of crap. All crap. The five scarves she recieved for her birthday the weekend before. Her alarm clock because she said she had a doc appointment on Monday that she didn't want to miss. A koosie to wrap around cold drinks because she couldn't stand to hold them in her hands. I didn't want to be the bad guy, but at this point, I was scared and frustrated. I took her scarves and left them. I took out the koosie. I let her keep her alarm clock.

My parents weren't going to be happy about her bringing five bags, a purse, a pillow, a blanket, and a plastic travel cup full of water.

09:15 - We leave my parent's house. My mom, dad, and sister were riding in one car. My Grandma, Great Aunt and Quesa were riding with me. Both of us had a full tank of gas. We were banking on getting to Louisiana before we had to fill up.

12:01 - Still on the outskirts of Houston, we creep closer to Baytown. 36 miles down, 1159 to go.

15:49 - We scoot, bumper to bumper, into Beaumont. We are both at a half a tank of gas. We had stopped once in Baytown at a Chevron. No gas. No bathrooms. No employees. Seventy-five cars stopped, drove into the parking lot, looked around, and left. We went around the corner to a Pancho's. My sister and I ripped out a plant from a clay pot sitting in front of the restaurant. We each took turns squatting into the pot to relieve ourselves. Now that we were in Beaumont, pissing on the side of the road had become no big deal. Save for the truckers who couldn't take their eyes off us. Perverts.

16:32 - Still in the same spot in the same traffic jam in the same city on the same freeway. People had begun abandoning their cars and walking into the next town. Emergency vehicles had to drive on the grass next to the feeder road to get by all the traffic. And they did. They drove by all of us.

16:33 - We made a decision to turn around and go back to Houston. News of the storm put Rita's path straight into Beaumont. And if we ran out of gas in the next 50 miles, we wouldn't be far enough away. We would be in the middle of the storm. No water. No food. No shelter. No gas.

17:59 - We arrived back at my parents house. It was spooky going west, when everyone was stuck going east. We made a hot meal. I was on edge. Everyone was on edge. I knew I had to sleep. We would head out west tomorrow. By sunlight. I drank a Smirnoff Ice and a shot of Nyquil, and drifted soundly to sleep.

Day One was over.

Gonna die in the hurricane.

Gonna float away and no one will ever find me.

...Or so I can hope.

Annoying ass things about hurricanes:

1. Knowing the last hot meal is at the work cafeteria. Bleh.

2. Being told you can take off early from work, but if you do - you won't be paid.

3. Having to stay at work cause you're the receptionist and technically the building will be open all day today.

4. Trying to find a hotel that:
a. has two beds.
b. is wheelchair accessible. [for your grandma who you are now in charge of]
c. has a wheelchair accessible room that's NOT on the 1st floor. [in case it floods]
d. allows rats.

5. Taking inventory of everything in your apartment.

6. Realizing the most expensive thing in your apartment is your $1000 queen size mattress.

7. Praying the roof on your apartment doesn't fly off and damage your expensive t.v.

8. Realizing that all of your family members live in Houston. Southeast Houston.

9. Regreting that you didn't marry a rich guy, whose in-laws would offer to fly you first class to their vacation estate in Vermont.

10. Not being able to have sex for the next four to seven days.

Today's Cafeteria Menu:
Meatloaf
Mashed Potatoes
Corn

I guess I'll stay for the mashed potatoes.

Duties I perform each day because I have no Actual Duties to perform each day:

1. Try not to accidently eat annoying little gnat.

2. Try to figure out how grown ass people who work in a corporate office have not learned how to properly flush a toilet.

3. Try to get out of Today's Duty: Signing up people for massages.

4. Work on my English accent.

5. Realize I'm doing a Scottish accent.

6. Try to figure out if the bad caferteria eggs or stress is giving me the runs.

7. Count how many people are shorter than me here at work. So far, just one.

8. Try not to act like I'm still drunk.

9. Try to figure out why a. they only hire Indian people as telemarketers or b. why the same Indian telemarker keeps calling me asking me the same damn questions.

10. Finally kill annoying little gnat.

Heard Around Town: Weekend Edition

1. "Ma'am, you have a penis in your mouth," my uncle explained to a customer who wondered why the photo shop he worked for wouldn't develop her pictures.

2. "You want a burger?" I asked.
"Um...no?" Krazy K replied, as she hovered over my shoulder.
"THEN WHY YOU ALL UP IN MY GRILL?" I shouted, trying to scare Krazy K away from the computer so she wouldn't read my blog.

3. "Yeah, Grandma called me this morning asking what time I was going to pick her up for her surprise party.." I told my Uncle when I found out that he was the one who told my Grandma about her surprise birthday party.

4. "You're starting to look like a real mexican," I crooned, as I admired my cousin's new Ford F-150 that was lowered 2 inches in front and 4 inches in back and had 24" chrome wheels.

5. "My knee hair grows faster than all of my other hair," observed Krazy K, as she carefully reevaluated her shaving technique.

Duties I perform [in the restroom] each day because I have no Actual Duties to perform [in the restroom] each day:

1. Wonder why the hell people try to talk to me in the restroom.

2. Wonder why the sound of the air freshner going off sounds like someone opening a Pepsi bottle.

3. Wonder what it says about your co-workers if you use a paper seat protector.

4. Had to pee so bad today that I sat down and started peeing before I even closed or locked the stall door.

5. Wonder why there's a faucet for hot water if there's no hot water in the building.

Links:

Gangsta Google:

www.gizoogle.com

Pig Latin Google:

www.google.com/intl/xx-piglatin/

Can't Do It In Real Life? Do It On A Quesadilla.

www.thesurrealist.co.uk/slogan.cgi

Zack Braff's blog:

www2.foxsearchlight.com/gardenstate/blog

Bruce Willis' Blog:

www.brucewillis.com/notes

Rosie O'Donnell's Blog:

www.rosie.com

Barry Bond's Blog:

http://barrybonds.mlb.com/players/bonds_barry/journal/latest.html

Moby's Blog:

www.moby.com

Funny Top 5 Lists:

http://spaces.msn.com/members/top5lists

Duties I perform each day because I have no Actual Duties to perform each day:

1. Water the fake plants to see if they'll grow.

2. Try to get out of Today's Duty: folding papers in half for the HR Dept.

3. Try to get all the vendors to wear name tags - so far 11 grown adults are walking around wearing name tags.

4. Try to figure out why the courier guy doesn't put gel in his white-boy fro.

5. Try to figure out why an annoying little gnat keeps flying up my nose.

6. Plot to kill annoying little gnat and his whole annoying little gnat family.

7. See if I can shop at another store online while working for a major dept store.

8. Try to figure out what the hell NFI stands for.

9. Start an online "Spiritual Journal" on Oprah.com.

10. Pretend to speak Mexican to the cooks so I can get an extra Enchilada at lunch.

11. Try to figure out how to gracefully eat four enchiladas in under thirty minutes.

12. Try to figure out which security camera is actually pointed at me.

Things I've Learned While Being a Receptionist:

1. If I wear a skirt that is so short that it shows the elastic in my pantyhose, I will be made fun of.

2. If I pretend to speak Mexican to the cooks, they will give me an extra scoop of eggs in my breakfast tacos.

3. If I leave during lunch, I'll lose my parking space and end up walking 15 mins back to work.

4. If I leave my internet up, the chick from HR who relieves me will job search.

5. If you request that the company buy different glue sticks, you will start getting hate mail from the Purchasing Dept.

6. If a customer calls to complain, they will insist on telling you the whole story before you can say, "Sorry but I can't help you, you need to call customer service."


Things I Still Haven't Figured Out:

1. Why we have to pay for coffee.

2. Why I have 15 glue sticks, 3 clip boards, 2 staplers -- but only 1 pen.

3. Why I have a microphone but no paging system.

4. Why everyone waits by the stairs for the elevator when we only have 2 floors.

5. Why someone from within the building keeps calling me and askng if I've seen her dog.

6. Why buyer's assistants have assistants.

This post is a little late cause stupid blogger.com was having issues again.

Today's Cafeteria Menu:
Beef and Broccoli
White Rice
Oriental Veggies

Gag me with a spoon.

Sexy DJ and I decided to go out for lunch today. We went to Bennigan's for their "time crunch lunch"...15 mins or it's free. Dammit, it should have been free. Technically, it didn't take 15 mins to get our lunch, but by the time you add in: bringing the drinks, deciding what to order, bringing our check, taking our check to run our credit cards, bring back the check so we can sign our credit card receipts....it took over an hour.

I half thought he was going to pay for my lunch. If I wouldn't have requested seperate checks, he might have. Oh, well.

In other news, my favorite glue stick is gone. You remember the one that was like a blonde girl?

So now I have this new glue stick. I hate it. So, here's to my new glue stick:

My glue stick is like a retarted llama:

1. It drools on everything.

2. It has a long neck and a spongy head.

3. It smells bad and doesn't care.

4. It's ugly.

5. It stutters alot, then drools some more.

6. If you squeeze it, it spits at you.

Fuckin' A!!

Starting tomorrow, [and from now on, three times a week] the Company I work for will bring in a Personal Massage Therapist!!! WoOooO HoOooo! There's a sign up sheet at my desk, and I already have a time slot of 12noon tomorrow!

I can't wait!!

First a cafeteria, then reps from Elizabeth Arden come in today, then a massage therapist,...

what next?

Oh yeah, Friday we are having a sample sale. That's where all the goodies from Tommy, Polo, Nike, Sean Jean, Fubu, younameit, are brought in and sold at below garage sale prices!

Man, my company rocks.

Today's Cafeteria Menu:
Homemade Lasagna
Italian Green Beans
Side Salad

Homemade, huh? If you call food that's made in the confines of your home, then yeah, it was homemade. If you call food that's made from scratch homemade, then no, it wasn't.
It was from a box of Betty Cocker.
And green beans. I absolutely looooove me some green beans! Italian, American, Indonisian, whatever. Green beans in a can are the best!
I got soup instead of salad. What a mistake. I looked down into the vat of soup, and saw rice (mmm), corn and veggies (mmm), so I got it. What I didn't see was the fifteen pounds of beans that were in there. It tasted like a wet taco. Never eat lasagna and soupy taco together. My tummy hurts now.

I had lunch with Sexy DJ again today. That makes three or four times now. I can't remember which. Anyways, I can't figure him out. I can't figure out if he's funny or creepy. If he's preverted or macho. If he's sexist, or a flirt.

The things he talks about throw me off. He's divorsed. Has two kids. He talks about going to strip clubs and blowing $200 on strippers when he could "spend just as much on a chick at a club who would be more of a 'sure thing' than the stripper." He talks about dating chicks that answer the door naked. He talks about how funny he is when he's drunk. He talks about the grand times he had DJing at strip clubs and how girls would come into the DJ booth naked. He talks about how I sound like a valley girl. And how everywhere he goes, chicks and dudes hit on him.

I just can't figure it out.

It never fails. Every fucking time I believe him and every time I end up disappointed.

Secret LB told me last week that he was going to try to quit drugs. Not just dope, the hard stuff. The stuff I won't mention on my blog. He was so proud of himself when he only smoked one J and drank one beer. He didn't even touch the other stuff. I was proud, too.

Why am I so naive? Why do I believe him time and time again?

Last night I called him twice. He didn't answer. I forgot he went to parole.

Damn. I forgot about parole. I waited until 8:30, then I called him again. This time he answered.

"Hi", I said, nervously.

"Hey."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm at my cousin's house."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, time to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

"I went to parole today -"

"Yeah?"

"-well, they let me go. I'm home. I'm not going to jail, so I'm celebrating."

"So, you're getting fucked up?"

"Yeah. Listen, I'll call you later."

Fuck. He must have sensed my panic, so he hung up with me. Fuck. He's taking bumps again. God, I hate that. I feel so helpless. What am I supposed to do? I can't just sit here and worry about him. One of my friends came over, and we sat and talked about babies and drugs and the fact that if either of us wanted to have a baby some day, then Secret LB and I had to stop doing drugs and straighten up now. Now, rather than later. I wanted to have his child. I wanted to give him a son. He told me once that having a son would change his life.

Why was I even thinking about children? What had come over me? Why was I feeling like this?

I agreed with everything she said. And when she left, the after thoughts of the conversation sent me into a crazed panic mode. I had to talk to LB. I had to tell him about having babies. I had to tell him to stop doing drugs. What about our future, I would say. What about our babies?

I am sure glad he didn't answer the phone when I called him. It's like he has this innate sense of what I am about to do. He knows when I'm in a panic. He knows when not to answer the phone. Who was I to tell him to stop doing drugs? What the hell was I thinking about wanting to have his kid? Why was I all of a sudden in a rush to change my life? His life? Why did I feel so scared that I needed to talk to him?

Last night I was pissed. But this morning? I'm thanking my lucky stars that he did not answer that phone.

Application Candidate of the Day:

Position applied for: Budge Expense Coordinator

Salary Required: Negotiable

Last job: Income verifier for a bank

Last salary: 32K

Memberships: Junior Acheivement Volunteer, March of Dimes Team Leader and Sponsor

Hobbies: Running and Exercise

Additional information you would like to have included in considering your application: PC literate, attention to detail, proven achiever, goal driven.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

attention to detail? proven achiever? goal driven? He's makin' me hot already!

Running and exercise? Here's where he lost me. I don't run unless someone is chasing me.

Negotiable salary? He doesn't know what he's worth.

Rating: 7.2 - has potential.

You rate him.

Loca Rat passed away Friday night. She had been having trouble breathing for a couple of months now. The vet said it wasn't Myco [a common respiratory infection] because it did not spread to Quesadilla, my other rat. The vet, however, didn't rule out a tumor, even though he didn't see any evidence of one. She had become real skinny and didn't eat much. During her last two weeks, I kept her by my side. I fed her butter and mac and cheese and sour cream hoping that she would put back on the weight that she had lost. I also kept her in my bed at night, just to comfort her. The night I left her in her cage, she must have stopped breathing. She was only a year old. Loca was the 6th rat that I have owned. I brought her home Oct of last year. Back then she was a vibrant, bouncy little black and white hooded rat. Her full name was Besa Loca. She will be missed.

Duties I perform each day because I have no Actual Duties to perform each day:

1. Sort my glue sticks according to size.

2. Count how many people trip on their way up the stairs.

3. Count how many fat people wait for the elevator instead of using the stairs.

4. Try to figure out two thousand seventeen divided by fifty four.

5. Rearrange the showroom schedule to see if I can start a chick fight.

6. Figure out how the Oscar Meyer song got stuck in my head.

7. Try to figure out what the hell I'm going to do about this Root Beer belly.

8. Read blogs from Jinxy, ThomCat, Bobby, Wirthy, Brian, and AL.

9. Try to get out of today's duty: Putting address labels on 1500 envelopes for Payroll.

10. Pretend I know how to speak Mexican to the cleaning staff.

11. Flirt with Sexy DJ when he walks in.

12. Check the mirror every fifteen minutes to make sure my curls aren't out of place.

If all else fails, you can blame it on me.




"Are you mad at me? Is that why you're ignoring me?" I heard him say for the second time, trying to get my attention.

Was I mad? I couldn't remember. Man, I've got to stop smoking so much. What was going on? Why was I mad? Oh, yeah -

I looked at him and muttered, "I thought we were going to eat lunch on the Seawall."

"Is that all you're mad at?" He turned the car around. "We'll go back then."

It was a miserable day to be in Galveston. We could see the rain clouds as we headed out. I had asked Secrect LoverBoy if he wanted to turn around, but he insisted on coming to the beach again. As soon as we arrived to East Beach, it started raining. The rain was so bad that the dirt road that lead to the beach was impassible. We stopped on the side of the road, watched the rain, and smoked another joint. After ten minutes, the rain stopped and we parked on the beach. Same spot as last weekend. This time it wasn't sunny or perfect or memorable. It was cloudy.

In my buzzed stupor, I had forgotten to shave. I looked down in horror to see my stubble begin to surface. It was the most uncomfortable I had ever felt around Secret LB. I tried to stay away from him. I went for a walk, alone. I walked on the jetti, alone.

When I came back, we decided to leave. When we had driven down the Seawall towards East Beach, Secret LB had mentioned that he wanted to stop and get some shrimp cocktail. So I thought that's what we had planned after the beach. When he started heading towards the freeway, that's when I got angry and started ignoring him.

My mom used to always say don't push your luck. I should have never gone to Galveston with him twice. It was too good to be true. It would never be like it was the first time. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was because I didn't shave. Whatever the reason, it wasn't like it was before. I should have stopped while I was ahead.

OF THE DAY:

Discovery of the Day: "Unscented" Hairspray smells like shit.

Word of the Day: "Wangover" - Weed hangover. After the buzz wears off, a wangover leaves you with feelings of paranoia, disorientation, guilt, sleepiness, and general indifference to whatever is going on around you.

Meal of the Day: A lunch at The Rooster. This little chinese place on the northwest side of town. To celebrate my Uncle Bobby's boyfriend's birthday. I call him Aunt Joe.

Drink of the Day: Chocolate mix with soy milk. My sister made a glass of this concocsion, and I drank it.

I sent this email post haste today to this company:


Good Afternoon Accoutrements,

My name is [DaMasta], and I found your website thru a website thru a website thru a weblog that I frequent on a daily basis. Upon arrival on your website, I was absolutely blown away by your innovative "Cubes" product line! The owner of the weblog and I have started different blogs about being lowly employees in corporate America. His focuses on cubie life, while mine gives a view point of a front lobby receptionist. Subsequently, he ordered "The Cubes" sets 2 and 4. I told him I was going to order the deluxe set and name the cubies after him and his co-workers. My goal is to build a "Corporate Hell" Empire. But there is a dilema. We both agree that there should be a front lobby receptionist if I am ever going to complete a "Corporate Hell" Empire. It wouldn't even need a cube. All it would include is a desk in the shape of a half-circle, a multi-line phone, a phone headset, some papers to file, and a file cabinet. This is a very urgent matter. Many slackers at big companies are counting on you.

If we can be of any assistance to you, please email me. Someone will get back to you some time on some day of some week in the near or distant future.

Thank you,
[DaMasta]
[damasta]@yahoo.com


Man, this website is sooOoOoo friggin kickass! There's bandaids that look like bacon, there's a deluxe Jesus set, there's devil rubber duckies, there's a spinning wheel "What would a pirate do?" school folder, and there's even a Nunzilla.

This place rocks. And that's all there is to it.

Duties I perform each day because I have no Actual Duties to perform each day:

1. Avoid eye contact with everyone so I can avoid helping them out with the paperwork they don't want to do themselves.

2. Try to figure out who is the stupidest member of my family.

3. Email my mom funny shit from ThomCat's website and wonder how many people she forwards it to and how many of those people will sit back and think: wow, DaMasta's funny as hell.

4. Try to get out of today's duty: counting papers for the Benefits Department.

5. Make a mental note of everyone who doesn't say "hi" to me in the morning.

6. Try to decide on whether to eat a chicken caesar salad or taco bell for lunch.

7. Try to decide whether the pink smiley face bouncy ball that DJ Sexy gave me yesterday was sweet or just plain creepy.

8. Try to read Cosmo's Hot New Sex Tricks discreetly at my desk.

9. Leave a comment on every single blog I come across on the internet.

10. Rearrange the "All Visitors Must Sign In" sign and the sign-in clip board so that they are on opposite sides of the front desk.

11. Wonder if there was no "All Visitors Must Sign In" sign , would people still sign in.

12. Pretend I'm Vanna White when turning on the plasma screens in our front lobby.

DATING UPDATE:

Well, it's been a week since I've actually spoken with OnlineGuy on the phone. This morning he texted me and asked if I was still doing the "receptionist gig". I replied "yes". And that was that. Irritated the fuck out of me. Who the hell is he? Who the fuck is he? He's always had a problem with what I do for a living. He mentioned this before. When we first met. He would add little phrases after I told him what I do. For example, I would say "I'm a receptionist"..and he would add "for now." Fuck him. I know what I'm worth. I know what I'm capable of. And I know that I like my job and my bills get paid and I meet a lot of people and I have free internet.

This week, a new guy started in Tech Support. To protect the innocent, his name is DJ Sexy. I first met him when he was interviewing here about two weeks ago. Last Friday was his first day. He was real cool. Came up to my desk and we spoke for about twenty mins. Today, I invited him to lunch cause he eats by himself. We talked about diff stuff. Where he lives, what clubs he goes to, where he used to work. He's a DJ in his spare time. He slyly asked me for my number while mumbling something about putting my name on a list to get into a club. I've been to that club. You don't need your name on a list. But I played along. I didn't want any clingy puppies like OnlineBoy, so I got his number instead. He's not cuter than Secret LB, but he's got dimples. He doesn't make as much as OnlineBoy, but he's more manly.

We'll see.

Are you... Are you going to laugh? Is that what I'm here for? That's always what I'm here for. What if I laugh first? Heh... It's kind of nerve wrecking. I mean, I know what you're thinking, isn't he used to being laughed at. Isn't he used to being looked at. They told me not to smile. They told me people probably wouldn't laugh at my photo. Why? What else would they do? What would they say? It's just my face. It isn't a pose. I don't even have any makeup on. You can see the lines sinking deeper into my skin. Why is the light so bright? Am I here for your entertainment? Tell me what I'm here for.

I sat down with some co-workers at lunch to play a game of Uno. Simple enough game. Match the colors or the numbers. Pass and draw if you don't have either. Play till one person runs out of cards.

Yet, there was a stranger among us. A little white card. A blank. It had the markings of an Uno card. Uno logo on back. But blank in the front. Completely white.

It wasn't a red five, or a blue eight. It wasn't a reverse or a skip. It wasn't a wild card with all the colors on it. It wasn't a draw four. It was blank.

It left everything up to the imagination.

You know the kind. Indifferent to the world around it. Not taking sides, but not making decisions, either. Doesn't speak up. Doesn't want to disrupt the flow. A coward and a peacemaker.

It was taught that if you keep quiet, you won't make enemies. You won't cause an uproar. You won't have a strange opinion. You won't ever be wrong. But you will certainly never be right. You will never be looked at strangly for standing up for what you believe in. You will never learn that there are colors that seperate the others. There are differences in moral. There are the good and there are the bad.

It wasn't taught, however, that if you don't decide where you stand for yourself, it will be done for you.

We made it a reverse draw four.

Monday's Cafeteria Menu:
Chicken Enchiladas
Spanish Rice
Refried Beans

I looked at this on the intranet yesterday and got all excited over the fact that they were serving Chicken Enchiladas!

Then, I realized it wasn't Monday. It was Tuesday.

It's like if a tree falls in a forest with no one around, does it really exist.

If there's no one at work on a Monday, do the Chicken Enchiladas really exist?

Here's a list of some of my fav song lyrics:

1. "...there's no where to go, and you've got all day to get there..."

2. "...hello city, you've found an enemy in me..."

3. "...you can't return me once you bought me..."

4. "...you don't hafta look no furtha', you dealin' wit da whole enchilada..."

5. "...solo tu sombra fatal, sombra del mal..."

Duties I perform each day because I have no Actual Duties to perform each day:

1. Wonder how "Rollercoaster of Love" got stuck in my head.

2. Figure out how to efficiently time stamp the mail so I can hurry up and get back to blogging.

3. Wonder how many times I can send "Sandra" from "MBNA America" to the automated sales call line before she realizes that I will not give her the name to our IT Director.

4. Meditate so that I can hieghten my senses just in case someone sneaks up behind me while I'm blogging.

5. Go to Yoga For Work and do as many stretches as I can while seated and tied to the phone system.

6. Chat with my unemployed friends via text messages.

7. Try not to laugh when people call here and ask to speak to a manager. [I work in a friggin corporate office. Everyone is a manager.]

8. See how long I can hold my pee before I call someone from HR to relieve me so I can pee.

9. Realize that the letter opener is a real life "double-edge" sword.

10. Erase my "Internet History" so that the girl from HR that relieves me doesn't know what websites I look at. [She doesn't know that Barenaked Ladies is actually a band]

Aahh..
Back from a long holiday weekend.

I spent most of the time either high or drunk or both. What a glorious time had by all. The fun didn't really start till Sunday night. My Secret LoverBoy came over. After a drunken, sloppy romp, we indulged in frozen pizza and weed and told each other our inner most feelings. Well, he did atleast. I just sat and listened. I love watching him. He's 6'2'', gorgeous dark tanned skin, intoxicating light brown eyes, full lips, white teeth, muscular, and rough hands. He has two tattoos on both his arms; while they are different pics, they are both the same size and location on either bicep. I could have watched him for hours.

He spoke about cleaning up his life. He spoke about the heartache he caused me and about how he needed to be a better person. He spoke about his family and how much he loved them. He spoke briefly about his dad and how he missed him the most. He spoke about his drug habbit and how, while it was an important source of income, it was also the biggest source of grief.

Then he spoke about me. He told about how he thought about me even when we were apart. How he liked to hold me at night. How our chemistry was the best he'd felt in a long time. How he knew we were much more than friends and about how he hadn't even thought about seeing anyone else in a long time.

We smoked a little more, and by that time, my mind was racing with thoughts [as it does whenever I smoke]. So I took a Naproxen with a mix of vodka and a Tropicana Twister, and drifted soundly to sleep.

The next morning we went to Galveston. This marked the first time me and Secret LB ever went anywhere outside the walls of my apartment. We went to the furthest beach and parked in the furthest parking spot. It was peaceful. Surprising, considering it was Labor Day. The beach was clean. The sand was a bright tan and soft, not too hot. The water was warm. Hand in hand we walked towards the beach. There was a spot, right before the ocean, where sand surrounded a small pool of water. It was knee deep and about twenty feet across. We waded thru it, watching small fish dart about and hermit crabs crawl in and out of their shells. We watched as one hermit crab shed his shell for another one. There was a slight wind, and his skin tasted salty as I kissed his shoulder.

As we walked back to the car, we counted the ships on the horizon. There were eight ships, one speed boat and a sailboat. We discussed the fact that neither of us had ever been on a sailboat and that it was probably a good thing because neither of us wanted to "work" at sailing a ship.

After three hours and a twelve pack, we headed back to Houston. I crashed on the couch and he kissed me before he left.

All in all, it was a good weekend.

The most embarrassing thing about shaving is forgeting to shave a certain body part. As a girl, I've learned that we must yank out every visible hair from our bodies in order to please the opposite sex.
Yesterday morning I took a shower. In my usual routine, I lathered up and took a blade to my legs. I start at the bottom and work my way up. All the way up. I run my fingers along my calves, my thighs, my pelvic; just to be sure every trace of hair is gone.
After I dressed, I went to my parent's house. My mother was outside washing her car. I grabbed a fresh towel and helped her dry it. As we worked our way around the car, I kept catching her staring at my feet.
I asked, "What?"
Her concerned look turned into a smirk.

"You know," she said, "it's pretty bad when you forget to shave your toes."

Embarrassed, I replied, "It's pretty bad when you have to shave your toes."

This fictional story has been provided to you as a result of Purgatorian's Flash Fiction Friday. Please visit his blog for more details. The most embarrassing thing...

I went to the grocery store this afternoon to buy the single girl Saturday essentials: frozen pizza, a six pack, and a bottle of Pepto. $36.49 later, the grocery clerk handed me my reciept and said "Thank you for shopping at Kroger, you saved $4.40". As a gave him a puzzling look, I grabbed my bags and slowly backed away.

Do they really expect me to believe that the regular price of a frozen pizza is $7.49? And that just because I have a Kroger keychain tag that I got an exclusive price of $4.99? Is this some kind of conspiracy?

When I go to CVS for a pack of cigs, they always ask if I have a CVS Card. I always say no. And they always scan a CVS Card tapped to the side of the register before they ring up my purchase.

So what makes me think that Kroger would really make me pay full price for a frozen pizza?

One may never know.

And keeping on the grocery store theme, may I present:

Top 5 Things I Pay Way Too Much For

1. Personal Lubricant. At $2.50 for a small pocket-size tube, who knew "passion fruit" was so addicting.

2. Hairspray. I pay $3.99 a bottle for Herbal Essence. I could pay $1.50 for Suave at the dollar store, but I don't like the way it smells.

3. CDs. $11.99-$18.99. I could just burn them off the internet like the rest of the free world.

4. Gasoline. $3.06 a gallon. My dad works for a major gasoline corporation, so we have gas cards. Supposedly, we get a discount at the end of every month. I have a feeling that the HEB gas around the corner is much cheaper than any discount we get from my dad's job. Another conspiracy I have yet to uncover.

5. Flip Flops. $16.99 a pair. The ones at Family Dollar just didn't accent my toes like I would have hoped.

I am so pissed.

At 8am this morning, I woke up and headed to a local furniture store here in Houston to [what I thot was] help out collecting and distributing food and supplies to Katrina victims. Much to my dismay, it didn't go as planned.

Dispite having a sprained ankle, I worked outside for two hours bagging and loading supplies into trucks. Where were they taking all these supplies? To the George R Brown Convention center? Why? I thought we could help more people by keeping the supplies there for people that are bussed in or walk-ups.

After two hours, I ask to be assigned inside b/c by that time, my ankle was swollen. Plus, with everything bagged and loaded, many volunteers were just standing around with nothing to do. So they sent me inside to answer the phones. Five minutes later, I was told not to touch the phones b/c the furniture store was officially open and they didn't want us to answer "business" calls.

We started putting together packets for the victims, which included a list of shelters that were open in the local area. I asked one of the ladies in charge if I could start calling the shelters and updating their status b/c I figured we didn't want to give out-dated info to the victims. She said ok. Five minutes later, I was told to stop calling shelters b/c they didn't want it to seem like we were overshadowing our Congreeman's efforts [he was the one that put together the list of shelters].

Was this an attempt to help the victims or a ploy to win votes?

I'm confused.

I left.

I sprained my ankle last night. How, you ask? Did I sky dive and land wrong? Did I bungee jump and snap my feet? Did I play ninja late at night and invert my foot when I landed that roundhouse on my friend Bubba? No. I was walking.

I placed a couple of frantic phone calls to my friends [trying to hold back tears, cause as you all know, crying is a sign of weakness and blah ..blah ..blah]. And the response I got was very disappointing. You can't go to the store for a friend? You can't get me a pack of cigs, a xanex, and a bag of ice? You can't turn off the kitchen light and tuck me into bed? FUCK YOU, THEN. All I wanted was some strong pain killers and an ace bandage. All I got was a tube of bengay and a bag of excuses from a friend who said she couldn't go to the store for me cause she had her whiney baby to deal with.

If 25,000 refugees from LA can get free food and clothes and school supplies and blankets and pillows and free housing and discounts from Luby's....then what's a girl gotta do to get some friggin sympathy over here?

On a serious note:
I just paid three dollars a gallon this morning for gas, so it took over $30 to fill up my Ford Focus. Last month my gas bill alone was $180.
And if you know anyone in the Houston area that needs supplies [groceries, bedding, etc], just contact me. I have volunteered at several agencies that are just waiting for people to come in and take supplies that they have collected.

On a work-related note:
I am now taking suggestions on what I can do to fill my day if I get caught blogging. I think the tech guys are planning a sabatoge.
Keep in mind, I only have the following supplies:
-a [nice smelling] glue stick
-a stapler
-a couple hundred green envelopes
-a phone book
-a switchboard phone from the 60s
-a pad of yellow standard size post-it notes
-two pads of yellow mini size post-it notes
-a sign that says "all visitors must sign in"
-a can of old coke
-a small mirror
-white-out
-several blank copies of the conference room schedule

My glue stick is like a blonde girl:

Not very productive. The glue doesn't always stick.

Kinda messy. Gets glue in places I don't want it.

Goes on easy.

Smells nice all the time.

I can't fucking believe it, Houston!

We have reached an all time low. I heard on the radio this morning that there is a group of protestors at the Astrodome. Now, I can see the Astrodome from our lobby and what I wouldn't give for a friggin long range gun. Now, I don't know much about guns, and I've never shot one before, but if you handed one to me right now, I swear I wouldn't miss.

I'm [almost] speachless.

As they said on the radio, "every town has its idiots, and these are ours".

They are protesting because they think the red cross and other local volunteers should be helping our resident homeless people instead of all the immigrant victims of the Hurricane. Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah, that's it. Let's help the fucking crackheads and herorine dealers on the street before we help the functioning citizens of LA. These people were productive members of society. They had jobs. They had cars. They had a place to live. That is ... they had these things until Hurricane whats her face came thru and tore their lives to shreds.

Yes, I'm cynical and pessimistic and cranky most of the time. [But that's only cause I have to date losers like "online guy"] That doesn't mean that I won't stand up for the good people of LA.

Get informed. Get involved. And get the hell off the front steps of the Astrodome with your picket signs, you fucking low life idiots.

Peace Out.