Splat

Did you hear that?

It was overspray from the shit hitting the fan.

Have you ever witnessed two Goliath company's go head to head?

Have you ever witnessed two Goliath company's go head to head who are supposedly in a joint venture?

Have you ever witnessed two Goliath company's go head to head who are supposedly in a joint venture only to be caught in the middle? Only to be the one squished when their heads actually collide?

Have you?

It's awkward.

People either love you or hate you, depending on whose side you are on even though I guess it's more like whose side of the bench you are on because, technically, it's the same side of the field.

My Thursday was spent getting slammed from each side.

Remember Raging Asshole? His request was temporarily granted for me to stay and help.

That was at 9 am.

By 9:30 shit was hitting the fan.

He apparently didn't want me to actually do all his work with the entire world knowing I was doing it. No, he wanted to keep shitting on my desk and taking credit for the diamonds I was making.

As you can imagine, when the Goliath who hired me gave the OK and copied Raging Asshole's Goliath boss things got ugly.

Really ugly.

But, Raging Asshole never picked up the phone to explain to the Goliath that gave me the orders that those measures were not what he really wanted, so the ugliness continued.

I may have sent Raging Asshole an email in a moment of rage. I copied all of god's creation. The President of Raging Asshole's Goliath company called me to discuss the email. I was told it may have hurt people's feeling. He never said it was inappropriate or uncalled for, although I feel terrible about it now, in retrospect.

But, really? He whined to the President? Seriously, are we in high school?

I'm exhausted from the drama.

I see you, you are dying to know what the email said.

I'm scared to share because I am not a mean person. I swear to it. But, if you continue to push and micro-manage me I explode. Especially since Raging Asshole continually complains about being over worked and too busy yet he can tell me to do stuff someone else just sent an email on 10 minutes prior who also happened to give me a phone call even before the email. Seriously, if you have time to email me to make a 2 minute phone call, you are wasting not only my time but yours as well because the actual call would take less than the time spent writing the email.

Do you see?

It could get a girl worked up. I mean, I have someone who tattles to his President, who pretends he's doing all the work I've been doing and then tells me how to do the job I was hired to do. Then add to it the Goliath who is paying my bill can't even communicate with Raging Asshole it's a recipe for disaster.

Total freaking disaster.

Unfortunately, my email didn't warrant being fired. In fact, it gave me the opportunity to expose Raging Asshole completely. But, even if Raging Asshole's President thought I should be fired it would not happen. Although, I wish it had because going back is the last thing I want to do. Mostly because Raging Asshole is now micro-managing me via his assistant.

Sigh.

What does not kill me makes me stronger.

On a totally unrelated note...sewage is erupting from one of the condo units bathroom sinks where I am finishing out Construction.

Imagine that.

All this talk about shit hitting the fan and some poor tenant is now dealing real live shit. The cause...UNKNOWN! No really, I saw with my own two eyes the video of 20 feet of drain with absolutely no clog.

Shit can't just fly out of sink for no reason.

This place is haunted.

I swear.

Google, You Crazy Beast

Like most websites I get visitors from all over the world who happen upon my site, mostly, by accident.

Let's take my visitor from New York (Hi!). She, I am totally making an assumption on her gender, was innocently (again, probably a misjudgement on my part) searching Google on "how to look like a stripper". Google sent her to me, as if, the act of having a stripper pole in my living room somehow makes me an authority on strippers. Poor poor NY (New York, may I call you NY?) probably had no idea what hit her when she was accosted by my Mommy Blog. But, if it's any consolation NY, the best way to look like a stripper is to become one. I mean, I imagine that body is mostly a result of all that exercise holding your own body weight up while scaling a pole. And also, drugs. But, not always. Good luck with your endeavor to look like a stripper I hope you continue to aim high.

Tampa Florida was searching for "kids touch asswhole" when she found me. Tampa, I can't tell you how glad I am Google doesn't auto-spellcheck because for some reason your kid touching his asswhole is so much funnier than him touching his asshole. I mean, touching the whole thing is safe but the hole, now that is just sick. Tampa, make sure your kids are washing their hands.

Fremont California searching for "baby chick foot broken is limping." Oh, Fremont, get that chick to a vet. I think. I mean we have Chicks but, um, I have no idea what to do if one were to break a limb. Maybe one of my readers can chime in on this one. I'd take it away from the others and have my mother in law build her a splint to avoid a vet bill. My mother in law is crafty like that.

Ardmore Oklahoma stumbled onto to my site by searching for "how can you tell your husband might be gay". Oh, Ardmore, there are so many ways, really. I think my husband might be gay for hundreds of reasons. It could be the fact that he sews, enjoys crafts, decorates, bakes, spends more time getting ready than I do, loves animals, kids, himself, loves to shop, loves to browse, I could go on and on, really. But, I don't want to bore you because the truth is he isn't gay despite all of the evidence to the contrary. I only joke about it. Sort of. I mean, maybe it's just a fear. Ardmore, do you want to have coffee?

And, finally we have San Diego who searched for "i wish we could sleep together". You know San Diego I was thinking the same thing...I don't get to sleep with you often enough. I wish that you could just come over and snuggle right next me. We could spoon.

The End...I Can Almost See It

21 days ago I received an email. The email was simple. They need you, are you available? Of course. But, not really. Yes, I want the money. Can they pay me to stay home?

21 days ago I was officially accepting my SAHM position oblivious to the fact that someone thought I was the solution to their problem.

Have I ever told you how addicting it is to solve problems?

Problem Solving is my drug of choice. It starts small. Solve a little problem here or there. You are left feeling satisfied, excited, proud...wanting more. Suddenly you crave a problem to solve. The small problems are not enough. You need more complicated problems, ones that actually challenge your brain...ones that take time to unravel.

I suppose my need for problem solving can be entirely summed up by the simple fact that I majored in Mathematics in college. I am neither particularly smart nor fond of Mathematics but, rather I am fond of a challenge in the form of problem.

So, when someone offers a problem, a big one but one I am familiar with, who am I to refuse?

I can't refuse.

I excel in the field of solving problems.

It's what I do.

In fact, I believe it's what we all do. Some of us just enjoy it far more than others. The adrenaline from the thought of solving a problem and being my own hero is almost more than I can stand. The mere thought of it gets me buzzing like a junkie looking for their next fix.

Friday is my last day full time.

I am a little sad that I solved their problem so quickly.

But, that's how I roll.

Plus, the thought of canceling swimming in the Fall was more than I could stand. Not to mention a raging asshole who seemed to think of my desk as his personal toilet for all things he did not want to deal with - 2 days of that and suddenly the fire under my ass closely resembled a bonfire the size of Texas.

Consider this your notice.

Next week, One Crazy Chick is Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!!!

Well, part time, anyway.

They still have a problem that requires my time just not all of my time.

Or, unless the raging asshole can convince them to keep me. (Which, btw, is not going to happen but I am totally enjoying his meltdown. Shit! I'm mean!)

I will keep you posted.

Reason #29 Why My Husband Might be Gay...

I know what you are thinking. Man, this chick is crazy, she thinks her husband is gay. But, hey, I've never denied having a touch of The Crazy.

In all fairness, my belief that my husband is gay is more of a fear that when we are in middle age with grown children my life partner will look at me across the dinner table and tell me he is gay. I blame HBO. Also, I have proof.

On Sunday afternoon we ended up downtown. A place my husband avoids because it's Seattle and he can't stand The People. Whatever. It's why we live here. I try to remind him that he hates our neighbors too but he refutes that all our neighbors aren't stuffed into a teeny tiny market where everyone is mostly just browsing. We go downtown once or twice a year as a family if I'm lucky.

Sunday we intended to go to the Aquarium. Which, I won't lie, TOTALLY SUCKED. It's true. There has been all this hype about this great new exhibit. THE SEALS. Um, news flash, I can see those at the Locks. I don't need to pay $30 to look at native fish up close. Although, the starfish exhibit still totally rocks but the rest of the fish were a let down. To say the least. I was hoping for tropical and got something Pacific Northwest. But, I guess if I was expecting PNW I would have been ecstatic. In short, save your money for the street performers at the Market.

Wow where was I? Even I forgot what I was talking about.

Oh, right, the gayness of my husband.

While downtown I insisted that we visit the 3 story Nordstrom's Rack because nothing says Seattle like padding the pockets of the Nordstrom's family. No really. I swear on my life it's 3 story's and quite possibly the best bargain basement shopping you'll ever experience. There is a floor devoted entirely to discounted shoes. For women. I know, as close to heaven as I'll ever be right on the second floor of that building in downtown.

Anyway, so, it's been a while since I've bought new work clothes. Well, jeans, to be exact. And, if you remember I'm Waxing. You know, like the moon. Which can also be known as getting my fat on. But, we don't need to get technical here. And, while I have a HUGE assortment of sizes none of them fit me the way they should. They are either way too tight, too tight, way too big or just plain saggy bottom. So, I grabbed a few jeans headed into the dressing room and decided on a pair that didn't fit right but would do since I was desperate.

I placed my selection on the stroller and Bob looked at them and then at me but never uttered a word. His look was neither approving or disapproving. I know he loathes dark jeans and them jeans were as dark as they make them. I figured he was staring at them because they were dark. So, I shrugged him off.

Off we went in search of some tops. Something cute. He was scouring racks feverishly. Quite possibly enjoying himself why trying to dress his wife who thinks jeans and a tee-shirt are The Uniform for any occasion. But, I was willing to try anything he suggested, unless it required heels. That's where I draw the line. I love the way jeans and heels looks on other people. Me? Not so much. Basically because I look like a Buffoon trying to walk in them. So, no. Just....no.

Bob couldn't seem to find any tops he liked. He politely redirected the focus to the jeans. He was unaware that I had made a compromise with myself in that dressing room regarding the fit but insisted that those jeans were not for me. Dark denim, he insisted, should remain on thin girls. I took this way better than he anticipated. He was tiptoeing ever so lightly around the subject weary that I could pounce and take him down at any second.

I asked for his suggestions because the second he said dark denim should remain on thin girls suddenly the Oprah where she had fashion experts explain jeans to the entire audience popped into my head, I vaguely remembered the exact same advice.

My husband does not watch Oprah.

But, he was right.

I grabbed his selections he reminded me to ignore the size and go with the fit. I threw caution to the wind. I was amazed at the difference between the jeans. I had piles. The sizes varied. In the end, it was painless. Either they fit or they didn't. He insisted he be the final judge.

I've never loved a pair of jeans more. No, really. And, the ones I loved were even cheaper than the pair I was going to get that didn't really fit but would do that would end up in the bottom of my closet in a few weeks never to be heard from again.

And that folks is reason #29 why my husband might be gay!

It's the thought that counts...

Hello?

Is anyone here?

No?

Sad.

So, if you haven't noticed I'm working again which means this place is neglected. I mean, normally if I am "working" that means more time for blogging but being a consultant means if I'm working, I'm billing hours which really means no blogging.

Plus, I wasn't hired because there is nothing to do. The exact freaking opposite, in fact. I feel like even if I work 12 hour days for the next month I still won't have a handle on this mess. In reality, though, everyone seems to be relieved to have me. My second day on the job I had the angriest people dropped right into my lap. So, of course, the people who can now do that are more than relieved, they are thrilled. I mean, who wouldn't be relieved to just push off crazy lunatic mad as hell people off on someone else? Man, I know if I were on the other end I'd be glad to have me too.

But, at the end of the day, and man have they been long, this job will allow me to stay home when it's over and that is worth it. And, seriously, angry people suck but when you are the one who solves all their problems and makes them happy it is actually very rewarding work. Not to mention the pay is freaking ridiculous for little more than admin work.

So, that's where I've been. The wolves have chewed me up, spit me out and I'm over here just licking my wounds. And, cleaning up this wreck of a house.

Because, did you know that my niece is leaving for Boarding school next week?

Of course you didn't.

Well, she is. And, I seriously couldn't be happier for her. So, when she got accepted I told her I wanted to throw her a party.

PAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRTAAAAAAAAY!

Because, I love to party. And, I love having people over despite having to clean my filth.

But, when I made the plans for her party I wasn't working.

Now, I'm working. The house is a mess. It's going to be 100 degrees today. We have no AC because, hello, this is SEATTLE. The pool is green with algae. The grass is overgrown. In summary, I have a lot to do but no energy to do it.

I guess, I can just tell my guests to ignore the underwear that is draping the coffee maker and that the junk mail actually acts a protectant for my counter top.

Now, excuse me while I go refill my coffee and worry some more about the state of my house whilst doing absolutely nothing about it.

After all, isn't it the thought that counts?

I got caught...

...with my panties down.

I missed my entire SITS day!

The whole freaking thing.

It boils down to the fact that I'm an idiot.

Who just started full-time work again last week.

Who also forgot that little email sweet Heather sent me on Sunday.

I mean, ladies, how does one actually forget her SITS day?

I mean, for me, it's as close to Oprah as I'll ever get. I would have been couch jumping and everything whilst watching over 500 comments roll in on my dainty little site.

I cannot stay THANK YOU enough!

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU TANKYOU TOOTOTO!

Here let's make-out make up!

Dear SITS Sista's and Regular Readers,

I love you!

I also love your comments, each and every single one of them have been read. And, can I just say, you are all far wittier than me. I mean, seriously, I've been rolling on the floor laughing my pole dancing hiney off. Not really on the pole dancing part. I mean, have you seen the size of my thighs lately? Well, if you saw them you'd agree it's probably best to stay firmly planted on the ground because someone could get hurt. Mainly the children. Point, I had a point.

Right, thank you for reading and caressing my inbox with little tiny gems that I have finally gotten to AFTER my SITS day. I mean, seriously, who forgets? Who? Me, I guess. 3 weeks ago this blog was my only connection to the outside world and now I can't even find remember my password to log on. Funny how things change.

Anyway, thanks again!

MWAHHH!

Sincerely,

One Crazy Chick

Uncertainty

(WARNING: This post is like a fart in a frying pan. Bear with me. Not, Bare with me. I mean, we don't want you naked.)

So, I can't seem to get over it.

Life is supposed to go the way I plan. Hello, Life? Get the memo! Okay, so I totally didn't plan to get laid off. And, I certainly didn't plan to get laid off only to get work again but this time be able to work from home. But, what choice did I have?

For what it's worth I embraced my new plan. I like plans. I think plans shouldn't change. And they sure as shit shouldn't change 4 times in as many months.

The plan was that I was supposed to work from home...part time. Figuring my work could, for the most part, be done at night. Leaving the rest of the day for things. Things that would make both me and my children happy and well rounded. Things like swimming...gymnastics...the park. Things that have already been paid for. Things that my son was looking forward to.

The whole working part of the scenario was supposed to be squeezed into my life, not end up dictating it.

It was most certainly not supposed to go from not working one day to putting in 10 hours the next.

I have kids. They have needs. We have no childcare.

The economy sucks.

And, I can't turn it down...especially if it's only a few weeks.

In a few weeks I can return to normal.

Only that's the thing.

If this can happen now, who is to say it won't continue to happen? That there won't be another company in desperation next month? That I actually just traded in my perfectly predictable life for one that can get shaken up at any minute.

In turn, trading predictability for turmoil.

If I continue to turn my life upside down on a regular basis will that cause my children to think that is normal?

Of course, I can say no. But, with no comes no work. You get pushed down the queue and next time they'll use your replacement.

It's a slippery slope.

I want to say it'll be just this once. But, I know better. I know I can't say no. I know I'll beat myself up either way.

It's only money.

The root of all evil.

Why can't I just give the checker my homemade soaps in return for some Tri-tip steaks? Or, trade the farmer some plumbing for an entire cow?

Let's just cut out the middle-man and barter, shall we?

Okay, so, maybe not.

(Why am I suddenly compelled to have me some Bartles & James on a porch and whittle wood?)

I'm mourning.

Yesterday, my life was settling. The glass was starting to become clear. Now? 24 short hours later. It's cloudy. Uncertain.

And, I hate uncertainty.

It Never Fails...

I've finally settled into a routine.

I have relaxed.

It's taken weeks to realize that I no longer work and the pace of my life should more closely resemble someone actually enjoying their life than one who rushes and rushes until life is no fun.

Weeks after starting this whole staying at home thing I feel like I've found my groove. A touch of structure with lots and lots of fun thrown in.

Last night I got an email from my boss.

Our client is desperate. (Can they ever come to us before desperation is about to swallow them whole?)

They need me.

It's an offer I can't refuse.

But, shit.

Daycare?

Swimming?

Camp?

...we had plans...

Ya know, it never fails. You get comfortable and then BAM! POW! BANG! BOOM! Life throws you another curve ball.

I am NOT complaining.

It's just that...we had plans.

It's supposed to last 4-6 weeks. The last time they said that it was 7 months. 7 months, people.

I'm going to pull myself together and find a temporary solution in regards to my non-existent childcare situation. But, I'm going to plan on it being 4-6 weeks because I have plans. Lots of them. They include swimming and gymnastics and the playground, yeah the one I hate because damn it I will learn to love it and the mothers who reside there if it kills me.

Seriously, WTF?

Why does it have to be a roller coaster?

No. Whhhhhhhhhhhhy?

OK. Done.

Iron

It's true, over the weekend Bob & I celebrated 6 years of marriage.

It's funny because in the grand scheme of things all the anniversaries after number 1 just sort of commingle and fade into the distance. Sure, I love my husband. Sure, I think celebrating our marriage is important. But, it's just that our marriage has been easy. For the most part.

The first year was hard. I have never told anyone this, well, except for a few friends. While planning my wedding people constantly asked if I had the jitters. The answer was always, no. I mean, sure, a little omg I can't believe this is happening to me but aside from that marrying Bob was pretty much the only thing I have ever been certain of in my entire life.

But, once we were married I freaked. Yes, after the I do's. About a month after to be exact, which, as it turns out, was approximately a week after resuming normal life. It wasn't like I woke up one day ready to get a divorce. No, it slowly crept into my subconscious and started showing up in ways I wasn't even aware of. Suddenly, I was more interested in meeting co-workers after work for drinks then heading home.

Slowly it progressed from staying for happy hour to staying for dinner. I'd arrive home and wonder why Bob was so upset. We'd fight. I'd feel misunderstood and he was left confused. Confused because I have never been a girl who enjoys the bar and now, suddenly after 4 years I was choosing the bar over him. In my mind, I was visiting friends and enjoying my time after work. But, the truth is I was uncomfortable with my new role - I was avoiding him.

In my mind my role as Bob's partner changed. Although, it really didn't. It took a while for me to finally see that. To see that I was pushing my husband away because I was scared. See, in the immediate months following our marriage 4 very close family members started divorce proceedings. In my mind I just figured we ought to give up now because obviously divorce was now imminent and we should just save ourselves the trouble.

With lots patience and love we got through it. But, it was hard. It was hard to look deep and solve the problem instead of avoiding it. Avoiding it is always easier. Feelings get hurt easily and pride is a monster. But, in the end our marriage is better for having been through that first year. And, honestly it makes all the others seem easy.

Happy Anniversary, Bob! According to those gift charts on Google 6 years of marriage should be celebrated with gifts made from Iron. That steak we ate had Iron in it.

Two.

Today my baby turns two.

I tried to find a more flattering picture but, the truth is, this is her.

She is a tough girl with a flare for the dramatic.

She loves her motorcycle and her babies as long as all eyes are on her.

My do it, she reminds me.

Happy birthday big girl!

The Stripper Pole: Use No. 27

Quit turning your head.

I see you with your head all cocked to one side.

Straighten up!

Why my husband turned the camera mid-way I'll never know. But, go on. Watch it again and tell me you can watch without turning your head.

So, human 3-year-old or monkey?

Come play, it's Friday Foto Finish Fiesta! You know how I love me a Fiesta!