Is it right?
Stranger: I'm not sure if I'm right or not. Anyway is this you right :D
?? i mean u know me ? .....Giza !!???? is you really or you just
look like her :D ?
Me: i don't think you have the right girl. I'm sorry!
Stranger: so don't you live in Egypt ?????
Me: No i live in the states
Stranger: sorry Stephanie but you look like her so much.
nice to meet you ;) thanks
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Thursday, July 30, 2009
I have a Twin
Latest message in my email today:
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Stephanie's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Date
I feel like a bad person after my weekend. I know that I probably shouldn't.
Friday night started off very normal for me. D#1 was taking me out to go see a local band here in town, one I've seen several times before and was a little nervous about my behavior to come. Never in a million years did I think that D#1's behavior is what I should have worried about.
We get to the bar, he orders shots. "I'm only doing one, babe," I tell him. "I'm driving, k, and I have to work in the morning."
"OK" he answers. The night goes on as normal, we all chat and cut up at the table, dance to the music, have a blast.
Another hour later, more shots. Disrespect. I had met a couple of my friends at this bar and one of my friends and I head to the stage. I didn't want to do anymore shots. A few songs later, I work my way back to the table and find out that D#1 is obliterated. He's not just drunk, he's tore up. I also find out that he's been talking and rubbing up on other women while I've been away.
WTH???
I also find out that he just wants to get me, "Patroned Up," this coming from my friends of course.
Now, before I go any further, let's preface this!
I have known D#1 for three weeks at this point. I'm very turned off by this drunken behavior. I'm turned off by his staggering, wandering, now-grabbing self at this bar where he had balls enough to do this in front of my friends! I'm also extremely disappointed because he had presented himself to be an all-around nice, hard-working guy. He always got the door for me, which I really liked!! I know, cheesy.
I've known my friends much longer. They know more about what I've been through this year than most. They will always be looking out for me; I trust them for that. I understand I'm not the only one who's had a hard time, however, my friends are trying to make sure things don't get harder for me.
So, D#1 goes missing. With my car keys. And I want to go home. Twenty or thirty minutes later, I finally find his swaying self talking to a group of girls at the bar. I brushed into him to let him know I was behind him and he blew me off completely. I still didn't have my keys.
A few minutes later, he finds me, rests his head on my shoulder and starts the passing out process. I have no clue how many he's had by now, but I want to go home and I don't want to take him with me.
"Hey, give me my keys real quick." I held out my hands and he reached in his pocket to pause.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm just headed to the car to get something for K really quick," I answered. I want my keys so I can leave your drunk ass here to go home with some other bitch. I turned to go catch up with K outside for a second and he follows me. He wants to go with me!
"Hey, Babe, you're toasted!" I guided him to a chair. "Sit right here, I'm going to go with for a second, K?"
All he could do was nod. His eyes were glazed over and half shut. His mouth was hanging open and he couldn't stand anymore. For two seconds, I thought about getting him some water but I knew that it was a waste of my time. I also was pissed.
K and I pick up her sister down the street, walk back and we find him completely passed out at this time, in front of the bar. He looked like a conversation piece! We go back inside, party and play some more, have a good time. Meanwhile, I'm texting some of my friends to find out of if they are coming out, find a guy friend to walk me to my car. I knew that D#2 was at home and I really didn't need an escort home, just to my car!
No Luck.
1 am, I left. By myself.
My date was left up front, passed out in a chair with plastic cups thrown on him. Actually, a little bird told me there is a picture of this floating around the internet now!!!LMAO!!!
1:15 am, Roommate gets the d/l. We gather all of D#1's belongings together and make sure he has no reason to come in the apartment when he does make it back.
2 am, D#1 has made it back. D#2 answers the door gives him his bag and tells him to leave.
It was a TNT moment from here; he says he's forgotten something in my room, he's hidden cash. I nodded to D#2 that it was OK. He walks back to my room and doesn't see me in the kitchen. Something slammed. D#2 runs back to my room and starts walking him back to the front. D#1 sees me. D#1 is drunk and begins to curse me inherently to the devil. FYI, I'm an f'n whore and f'n bitch. He was so intoxicated, I don't think he had any other colorful metaphors to describe me.
D#2 steps up at this time, gives him two options: Leave or be put out. I love my new roommate!! "Dude, look you've got her in a corner. Just call her when your sober. I'll help you get your stuff to your truck."
The two D's leave.
Ten minutes later, they are still outside talking.
D#1 is crying like a baby.
Apparently, he denied all of it. He was never talking to other women, trying to get me patroned up and he never told anyone that I needed to stay with him for his money -- He loves me!!
Friday night started off very normal for me. D#1 was taking me out to go see a local band here in town, one I've seen several times before and was a little nervous about my behavior to come. Never in a million years did I think that D#1's behavior is what I should have worried about.
We get to the bar, he orders shots. "I'm only doing one, babe," I tell him. "I'm driving, k, and I have to work in the morning."
"OK" he answers. The night goes on as normal, we all chat and cut up at the table, dance to the music, have a blast.
Another hour later, more shots. Disrespect. I had met a couple of my friends at this bar and one of my friends and I head to the stage. I didn't want to do anymore shots. A few songs later, I work my way back to the table and find out that D#1 is obliterated. He's not just drunk, he's tore up. I also find out that he's been talking and rubbing up on other women while I've been away.
WTH???
I also find out that he just wants to get me, "Patroned Up," this coming from my friends of course.
Now, before I go any further, let's preface this!
I have known D#1 for three weeks at this point. I'm very turned off by this drunken behavior. I'm turned off by his staggering, wandering, now-grabbing self at this bar where he had balls enough to do this in front of my friends! I'm also extremely disappointed because he had presented himself to be an all-around nice, hard-working guy. He always got the door for me, which I really liked!! I know, cheesy.
I've known my friends much longer. They know more about what I've been through this year than most. They will always be looking out for me; I trust them for that. I understand I'm not the only one who's had a hard time, however, my friends are trying to make sure things don't get harder for me.
So, D#1 goes missing. With my car keys. And I want to go home. Twenty or thirty minutes later, I finally find his swaying self talking to a group of girls at the bar. I brushed into him to let him know I was behind him and he blew me off completely. I still didn't have my keys.
A few minutes later, he finds me, rests his head on my shoulder and starts the passing out process. I have no clue how many he's had by now, but I want to go home and I don't want to take him with me.
"Hey, give me my keys real quick." I held out my hands and he reached in his pocket to pause.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm just headed to the car to get something for K really quick," I answered. I want my keys so I can leave your drunk ass here to go home with some other bitch. I turned to go catch up with K outside for a second and he follows me. He wants to go with me!
"Hey, Babe, you're toasted!" I guided him to a chair. "Sit right here, I'm going to go with for a second, K?"
All he could do was nod. His eyes were glazed over and half shut. His mouth was hanging open and he couldn't stand anymore. For two seconds, I thought about getting him some water but I knew that it was a waste of my time. I also was pissed.
K and I pick up her sister down the street, walk back and we find him completely passed out at this time, in front of the bar. He looked like a conversation piece! We go back inside, party and play some more, have a good time. Meanwhile, I'm texting some of my friends to find out of if they are coming out, find a guy friend to walk me to my car. I knew that D#2 was at home and I really didn't need an escort home, just to my car!
No Luck.
1 am, I left. By myself.
My date was left up front, passed out in a chair with plastic cups thrown on him. Actually, a little bird told me there is a picture of this floating around the internet now!!!LMAO!!!
1:15 am, Roommate gets the d/l. We gather all of D#1's belongings together and make sure he has no reason to come in the apartment when he does make it back.
2 am, D#1 has made it back. D#2 answers the door gives him his bag and tells him to leave.
It was a TNT moment from here; he says he's forgotten something in my room, he's hidden cash. I nodded to D#2 that it was OK. He walks back to my room and doesn't see me in the kitchen. Something slammed. D#2 runs back to my room and starts walking him back to the front. D#1 sees me. D#1 is drunk and begins to curse me inherently to the devil. FYI, I'm an f'n whore and f'n bitch. He was so intoxicated, I don't think he had any other colorful metaphors to describe me.
D#2 steps up at this time, gives him two options: Leave or be put out. I love my new roommate!! "Dude, look you've got her in a corner. Just call her when your sober. I'll help you get your stuff to your truck."
The two D's leave.
Ten minutes later, they are still outside talking.
D#1 is crying like a baby.
Apparently, he denied all of it. He was never talking to other women, trying to get me patroned up and he never told anyone that I needed to stay with him for his money -- He loves me!!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The one where he got my number
I've been wanting to write this one for awhile.
Several weeks back, my friends threw me a "Freedom Party," for lack of a better term.
I had just found out that my divorce was final and was ex tactic! Free! Free!! Free!!! After several months of unending headaches, I finally was divorced. So we celebrated at a local bar in town where a band was playing.
The band, who is coming to town again soon and I can't wait to go see again, found out that I was newly single. At the same time, in the bar with us was a bachelorette party. Now, this is the part of the evening that, yes, is a bit groggy. A bit, a bit.
I was dressed in a black shirt and tight jeans. The stress I've been through has done wonders for the body, I tell you! My friend, who threw this party for me, was wearing nothing but a bra/vest type deal and even tighter jeans. Hate her...she pulled it off!!! Up on the stage we're pulled, shots being passed around everywhere.
I look over to my right and on stage with me is this poor, pitiful looking bride. I wanted to slap sense into her like someone should have done to me. My friend grabbed the microphone, screamed, "DON'T DO IT!" as the innocent was being introduced. She looked so happy; taking advantage of the last thread of wild in her. The crowd gave a clap while she raised her drink and spun around, holding the clumsy veil on her head.
I thought, "You look like you're about to be sacrificed." Meanwhile, I heard my name called.
"And this girl, ladies and gentlemen, very big night for her. While the other girl is getting married next week, Stephanie, is celebrating her divorce!!!" The next thing I know, the room is going A.P.E.S.H.I.T!!!! More drinks are being passed around, someone is dancing with me onstage, I'm getting high fives and congratulations...
It was crazy!!
Finally, I get back to my table after the journey of high fives and shots. How I hadn't fallen in my high heels is beyond me.
About that time, a very tall guy comes our way. I knew for certain he headed for my friend. I brushed him off until he sat next to me and leaned in.
"Crazy night, huh?"
"Yeah," I was pretty shy about meeting new people. Give me a break. It'd been a few months but meeting people in a bar was definitely not on my top ten things to do. "It's good to get out and have some fun, tho!!"
He had on a ball cap and a pressed polo shirt. His crooked little smile made his eyes sparkle a bit. But it was very dark, making out his face again would be difficult. I looked down and started playing with my phone.
"Hey, I like that phone!" He pointed to my toy. "Can I see it a sec?"
"Uh, sure?"
"So, are you from here?"
"Not originally."
He looked up from my phone a moment, "You don't sound southern."
"Well, I am...just not good with the accent!" I laughed. Sometimes I tend to sound a bit Yankee. I get made fun of for it, too.
"Well, I just put my number in your phone. Text me sometime!"
What the hell?!
Several weeks back, my friends threw me a "Freedom Party," for lack of a better term.
I had just found out that my divorce was final and was ex tactic! Free! Free!! Free!!! After several months of unending headaches, I finally was divorced. So we celebrated at a local bar in town where a band was playing.
The band, who is coming to town again soon and I can't wait to go see again, found out that I was newly single. At the same time, in the bar with us was a bachelorette party. Now, this is the part of the evening that, yes, is a bit groggy. A bit, a bit.
I was dressed in a black shirt and tight jeans. The stress I've been through has done wonders for the body, I tell you! My friend, who threw this party for me, was wearing nothing but a bra/vest type deal and even tighter jeans. Hate her...she pulled it off!!! Up on the stage we're pulled, shots being passed around everywhere.
I look over to my right and on stage with me is this poor, pitiful looking bride. I wanted to slap sense into her like someone should have done to me. My friend grabbed the microphone, screamed, "DON'T DO IT!" as the innocent was being introduced. She looked so happy; taking advantage of the last thread of wild in her. The crowd gave a clap while she raised her drink and spun around, holding the clumsy veil on her head.
I thought, "You look like you're about to be sacrificed." Meanwhile, I heard my name called.
"And this girl, ladies and gentlemen, very big night for her. While the other girl is getting married next week, Stephanie, is celebrating her divorce!!!" The next thing I know, the room is going A.P.E.S.H.I.T!!!! More drinks are being passed around, someone is dancing with me onstage, I'm getting high fives and congratulations...
It was crazy!!
Finally, I get back to my table after the journey of high fives and shots. How I hadn't fallen in my high heels is beyond me.
About that time, a very tall guy comes our way. I knew for certain he headed for my friend. I brushed him off until he sat next to me and leaned in.
"Crazy night, huh?"
"Yeah," I was pretty shy about meeting new people. Give me a break. It'd been a few months but meeting people in a bar was definitely not on my top ten things to do. "It's good to get out and have some fun, tho!!"
He had on a ball cap and a pressed polo shirt. His crooked little smile made his eyes sparkle a bit. But it was very dark, making out his face again would be difficult. I looked down and started playing with my phone.
"Hey, I like that phone!" He pointed to my toy. "Can I see it a sec?"
"Uh, sure?"
"So, are you from here?"
"Not originally."
He looked up from my phone a moment, "You don't sound southern."
"Well, I am...just not good with the accent!" I laughed. Sometimes I tend to sound a bit Yankee. I get made fun of for it, too.
"Well, I just put my number in your phone. Text me sometime!"
What the hell?!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
I have Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome
This week has been filled with nothing but awkward moments. Two in particular that left the room filled with that silent moment where everyone was looking at the elephant in the room.
Recently, about once a week, I've been meeting my friend Heather for coffee. I love Heather. She is one of the sweetest, most genuine people in the world. She's probably the best friend a person could have! During one of our weekly coffee jaunts, she mentioned her study group was starting a movie study. It would begin Tuesday and the girls would watch Fried Green Tomatoes. I love that movie! Bud-dyyyy!!! Can't watch it and not cry.
Tuesday, she picks me up and we go to her friends house. We were early (yes, it is in writing that I was early somewhere) and one other woman came in shortly after us.
I didn't pay her much attention, other than our hairstyles were quite similar. Lots of waves, shoulder length and hers was red. She was older than me and had a welcoming face.
"Stephanie, this is Kristen, she's my attorney," Heather introduced.
Bell is ringing.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you. What's your firm?"
"Kristen Love," she answered. DING DING DING DING
Stephanie, don't say what you're about to say!! "I thought you looked familiar! You're one of the first attorneys I visited when I was getting my divorce!"
Doh!!!
Last night capped my "Insert Foot Here" moments when an old co-worker came into town for a visit.
Not having seen my friend in months, I really wanted to go out with everyone to go get a drink and catch up. At some point, we landed at The Booth, where an acquaintance was having her birthday party. I don't know her very well, I used to work with her late brother. However, I did frequent her salon to get my hair done, and that's where I was introduced to one of my favorite hairstylists ever.
If you're not a girl, you don't understand. Let me give you an idea. Hair is expensive. Thick hair like mine is even more expensive to cut and color. I don't go often and am always looking for someone who can do a good job for less than $50. It's very difficult to find. Until I met Jennifer who does an awesome job and under $50! She rocks! I also liken it breaking up with someone when I leave a good hair stylist. I didn't tell Rachel I wasn't going to see her anymore.
Whilst sipping my beer, I looked over my shoulder, and hear, "Why did you stop seeing me?!!!"
Shit! "I was broke?"
Recently, about once a week, I've been meeting my friend Heather for coffee. I love Heather. She is one of the sweetest, most genuine people in the world. She's probably the best friend a person could have! During one of our weekly coffee jaunts, she mentioned her study group was starting a movie study. It would begin Tuesday and the girls would watch Fried Green Tomatoes. I love that movie! Bud-dyyyy!!! Can't watch it and not cry.
Tuesday, she picks me up and we go to her friends house. We were early (yes, it is in writing that I was early somewhere) and one other woman came in shortly after us.
I didn't pay her much attention, other than our hairstyles were quite similar. Lots of waves, shoulder length and hers was red. She was older than me and had a welcoming face.
"Stephanie, this is Kristen, she's my attorney," Heather introduced.
Bell is ringing.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you. What's your firm?"
"Kristen Love," she answered. DING DING DING DING
Stephanie, don't say what you're about to say!! "I thought you looked familiar! You're one of the first attorneys I visited when I was getting my divorce!"
Doh!!!
Last night capped my "Insert Foot Here" moments when an old co-worker came into town for a visit.
Not having seen my friend in months, I really wanted to go out with everyone to go get a drink and catch up. At some point, we landed at The Booth, where an acquaintance was having her birthday party. I don't know her very well, I used to work with her late brother. However, I did frequent her salon to get my hair done, and that's where I was introduced to one of my favorite hairstylists ever.
If you're not a girl, you don't understand. Let me give you an idea. Hair is expensive. Thick hair like mine is even more expensive to cut and color. I don't go often and am always looking for someone who can do a good job for less than $50. It's very difficult to find. Until I met Jennifer who does an awesome job and under $50! She rocks! I also liken it breaking up with someone when I leave a good hair stylist. I didn't tell Rachel I wasn't going to see her anymore.
Whilst sipping my beer, I looked over my shoulder, and hear, "Why did you stop seeing me?!!!"
Shit! "I was broke?"
Monday, May 11, 2009
The one where Stephanie takes an Ambien...
I have advice for you. If you are instructed to take any sleep medication called Ambien, take it exactly as prescribed. In fact, if your doctor gives you a prescription, as for a lower dose! Then, follow his directions very closely; never stray. It's vital that you never go more than two months between dosages as well. The results can be rather...embarrassing.
I had a long weekend. It was an awesome, fantastic weekend. It was Mother's Day! I had family time, friend time, social activities! I even sold half a car! It was a very pleasant and memorable weekend.
It was also tiring, and I don't have the best time sleeping and staying asleep these days. That is why I have Ambien.
I don't like this medication. It works, I sleep, however, I wake up feeling like I am a bottle of whiskey rather than having had a full nights sleep. Also, I've heard of the nightmares that can happen while on this drug. From people talking to walls, sleepwalking, even driving somewhere while asleep! I make sure to take it when I can devote more than 9 hours to sleep!
That was last night. I had 9 hours to sleep, despite the few hours left until the beginning of my work week. At 8:45 pm, I took my little white pill, made sure my door was locked, hid my keys, grabbed my dog and laid in the bed. At 6:00 am this morning, I woke up, groggy and hung over, and looked through my phone for any missed messages. I didn't remember much of the previous night, however, my friend, M, did. This is what I found out:
I had a long weekend. It was an awesome, fantastic weekend. It was Mother's Day! I had family time, friend time, social activities! I even sold half a car! It was a very pleasant and memorable weekend.
It was also tiring, and I don't have the best time sleeping and staying asleep these days. That is why I have Ambien.
I don't like this medication. It works, I sleep, however, I wake up feeling like I am a bottle of whiskey rather than having had a full nights sleep. Also, I've heard of the nightmares that can happen while on this drug. From people talking to walls, sleepwalking, even driving somewhere while asleep! I make sure to take it when I can devote more than 9 hours to sleep!
That was last night. I had 9 hours to sleep, despite the few hours left until the beginning of my work week. At 8:45 pm, I took my little white pill, made sure my door was locked, hid my keys, grabbed my dog and laid in the bed. At 6:00 am this morning, I woke up, groggy and hung over, and looked through my phone for any missed messages. I didn't remember much of the previous night, however, my friend, M, did. This is what I found out:
Usual morning text to M, "Good Morning!"
M: Good Morning! How was your Ambien sleep?
Me: Uhh..Good? Slept hard, lots of dreams!
Oh shit! I talked in my sleep!
Me: OMG I TALKED IN MY SLEEP DIDN'T I??!
M: Yes. You did.
Me: About what??
M: Mardi Gras, archbishops, fishing. U said the room was crowded with people in mardi gras costumes. U likd the white padded and crystal rooms.
Me: Fishing!!?
M: You said Ambien had a little car that took you from room to room and you want to find the cyrstal room again.
M: The xmen were hanging banners and wanted 2 b treated normal, the guy in the chair wouldn't stop staring at u, there were 2 kids playing b ball, ne going fishin
M: People on the mountain singing, u were at Target, you couldn't get Ambien's car started...
Me: I'm so embarrassed!
M: Don't be!
Me: Why didn't you hang up on me?!
M: You were cute and you said that you didn't want me to hang up!
Me: LMAO! I was obviously asleep! I'd have never known!! How long did I talk???
M: An hour.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
So I got shot in the ass the other day...
I have a new theory. I'm sure several people nationally, globally, even universally share this theory with me.
I had Laryngitis this week. Well, actually, it started a week ago today, the day before the race. I have been squeaking everywhere!
Tuesday, I had a day off from work. That morning, I squeaked to the doctor's office and held up my notepad.
"I have no voice," it read.
The nurse behind the counter peered up at me like a librarian trying to see above her reading glasses. She was trying not to laugh but couldn't help it. By Tuesday, I was a little irritated. I'd been going around with a notepad for three days and it's not always the best way to get some one's attention. So to say I was slightly annoyed when she answered the phone instead of handing me the insurance forms to fill out would be polite.
"I made an appointment?" I wrote down. She just nodded her head and handed me the clipboard.
I sighed and took a seat in the waiting room. It was filled with a plethora of people. This was my second visit to this doctor's office. The first time was three years ago, for the same problem. Think I should have my tonsils taken out? The room hadn't changed a bit. It was the same grouping of chairs, positioned against the same blue walls. The chairs lined the walls and the entrance as if to divide the room in to two groups: the sick and the non-sick.
After several minutes of being forced FoxNews and how terrible our economy is (bullshit!), I finally heard my name called to the back.
Following the same procedures as last time, and using my trusty notepad, I told the doctor what was ailing me. He called for the xray, a shot in my ass, some cough syrup and some antibiotics.
He also asked me if I'd ever broken my nose.
"No," I wrote down.
"Are you sure?"
I looked at him puzzled. "I think I would remember that..." I jotted down quickly. "Why?"
"Oh, cause you're nose is crooked," answer the ENT Dr. like it was no big deal. He pulled up the xray and flipped the switch. His pen flew up to where my nostrils were printed on the film. "See, you're nose leans to the left."
I came here because I lost my voice! "And?" I mouthed out.
He shrugged, "No, biggie, just curious."
He wrote down the Rx's and handed them to me. Then he quickly pulled out a second sheet of paper that mimicked the Rx form. It was the same shape, font and style.
"Now you know, with this antibiotic, there is a strong chance you'll have some 'feminine issues'?" he asked.
I shook my head. I didn't understand where he was going.
"Just make sure you eat plenty of yogurt, take your vitamins and drink you're orange juice." He handed me the second sheet and I quickly glanced to the point of his warning. The word "yeast" jumped off the page.
This is where the theory comes in to play: Explain to me how an antibiotic prescribed to treat and 'infection' can cause an 'infection'?????????
I stumped you didn't I???
Saturday, January 24, 2009
A first for all women everywhere
I got a new pair of jeans!
I got a smaller pair of jeans!
I feel like the girl in the yoplait commercials, "Yeah, I need you to take these in."
The best part was the record timing and fittings!
I took a tissue. I don't do well buying clothes. Typically, on any given clothes shopping experience, I leave crying. I hate trying on clothes and flourescents lights are evil. Just evil!
I went to the juniors section first to see if size "Whale" had become available yet. It has!! And the size "Whale" were on size, too! It was great. I got several pair to try on in the fitting rooms. I made it to the fitting rooms, prepping myself for a few tears and didn't cry! It was great. The first pair set the evening, though.
I slide them on, zip them up and did the sit test. You know, the test where you sit down in the fitting room to make sure that you don't show ass crack everywhere you go? Yeah, all the pants I brought F.A.I.L.E.D!! I really didn't even have to sit. They pants didn't make it above the crack. Who thinks that low is cute?! How do you sit? No wonder they were on sale!
So I leave those in the room, walk out, think about leaving but decide to try one more pair. A different cut but not waist high.
I walked back in, pulled them up and then the angels sang.
I found a new pair of jeans in two fittings and in under thirty minutes!
Top that!
I got a smaller pair of jeans!
I feel like the girl in the yoplait commercials, "Yeah, I need you to take these in."
The best part was the record timing and fittings!
I took a tissue. I don't do well buying clothes. Typically, on any given clothes shopping experience, I leave crying. I hate trying on clothes and flourescents lights are evil. Just evil!
I went to the juniors section first to see if size "Whale" had become available yet. It has!! And the size "Whale" were on size, too! It was great. I got several pair to try on in the fitting rooms. I made it to the fitting rooms, prepping myself for a few tears and didn't cry! It was great. The first pair set the evening, though.
I slide them on, zip them up and did the sit test. You know, the test where you sit down in the fitting room to make sure that you don't show ass crack everywhere you go? Yeah, all the pants I brought F.A.I.L.E.D!! I really didn't even have to sit. They pants didn't make it above the crack. Who thinks that low is cute?! How do you sit? No wonder they were on sale!
So I leave those in the room, walk out, think about leaving but decide to try one more pair. A different cut but not waist high.
I walked back in, pulled them up and then the angels sang.
I found a new pair of jeans in two fittings and in under thirty minutes!
Top that!
Friday, January 2, 2009
The Dream
Have you ever had those dreams where you think it's reality until you wake up?
Sometimes those are the best, however, the other night - not so much.
I had a few totties New Years Eve and slept so good. Oh, I wish I could sleep like that every night!
Then I woke up...
Now, dream interpreters, what does that mean?
Sometimes those are the best, however, the other night - not so much.
I had a few totties New Years Eve and slept so good. Oh, I wish I could sleep like that every night!
All of a sudden, I'm in the office of my home church. I walked into the
office and Barack Obama was sitting in the secretary's chair, smiling at me.
Oh, wow, Barack Obama is the new pastor and the new
secretary.
I walked through the office doors into the main part of the office, closer to
his desk.
Stephanie, you need a black head band for that hair of yours don't
you?
I looked at him funny. How did you know that I need a black head band?
Let's go pick one out.
Together, Barack Obama and I tried on black head bands. I picked a thick,
early sixties-style head band that made my short hair poofy in the back. It
looked great. Obama had good hair band taste, ha ha!!
Then I woke up...
Now, dream interpreters, what does that mean?
Monday, December 29, 2008
Cup of decaf
Some moments in life I wouldn't trade for all the money in the world.
I've been thinking over this past year, as I'm sure a lot of other people have as well, considering the time of year. There are so many things in life that I am grateful for this year and many other times over the past year have broken my heart.
I hate to get all sappy but I'm nostalgic right now. Get over it and go to the next post if you don't like it.
I can't look back at 2008 and say that I've accomplished everything that I've wanted to accomplish. I can't look back and say, "I'm proud of myself for sticking to every resolution," especially since I didn't have any resolutions and I usually don't make any. Why start on January 1 when you can start on December 31? I'll end 2008 with about the same amount of money in my pocket as I started, still childless (with the exception of Lucy and my husband), I still don't have the perfect body and I moved again, something I swore I wouldn't do in 2008.
I can look back and say that I loved my grandmother dearly, and I hope she knew just how much before she passed away. I can say that Wayne was one of the most dear friends I'll ever have and that I'll miss him forever. I can fill my heart almost explode with the amount of love I have for those two people despite that holes that are left from their departures.
I can look back and appreciate every moment I had with my family members over this past holiday season. There were new faces to cuddle, new bonds and more laughs shared. I can honestly say that this was the first Christmas that I really sat back and let all the love and laughter really sink in while I looked at my family and thought of how much each member meant to me.
I can take what I've learned in 2008 and head into the new year more readily armed for what life hands me in the next 365 days. I know that there will be in the inevitable rough time, the challenge. But I'll gladly take and learn from those if each one of them helps me appreciate, even more, the people and things I already have in my life.
It's when you can truly appreciate the good that the bad finally gets outweighed.
I've been thinking over this past year, as I'm sure a lot of other people have as well, considering the time of year. There are so many things in life that I am grateful for this year and many other times over the past year have broken my heart.
I hate to get all sappy but I'm nostalgic right now. Get over it and go to the next post if you don't like it.
I can't look back at 2008 and say that I've accomplished everything that I've wanted to accomplish. I can't look back and say, "I'm proud of myself for sticking to every resolution," especially since I didn't have any resolutions and I usually don't make any. Why start on January 1 when you can start on December 31? I'll end 2008 with about the same amount of money in my pocket as I started, still childless (with the exception of Lucy and my husband), I still don't have the perfect body and I moved again, something I swore I wouldn't do in 2008.
I can look back and say that I loved my grandmother dearly, and I hope she knew just how much before she passed away. I can say that Wayne was one of the most dear friends I'll ever have and that I'll miss him forever. I can fill my heart almost explode with the amount of love I have for those two people despite that holes that are left from their departures.
I can look back and appreciate every moment I had with my family members over this past holiday season. There were new faces to cuddle, new bonds and more laughs shared. I can honestly say that this was the first Christmas that I really sat back and let all the love and laughter really sink in while I looked at my family and thought of how much each member meant to me.
I can take what I've learned in 2008 and head into the new year more readily armed for what life hands me in the next 365 days. I know that there will be in the inevitable rough time, the challenge. But I'll gladly take and learn from those if each one of them helps me appreciate, even more, the people and things I already have in my life.
It's when you can truly appreciate the good that the bad finally gets outweighed.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
The Gift
We had three Christmas parties Thursday. Trey and I were on the road all day long. We spent the night in Birmingham at his parents house and left Tuscaloosa just in time to miss the tornado warnings Wednesday night. From the alarm sound, it was "Go" the rest of the day. Our only alone time was in the car laughing at our families before hitting the next party.
We left my mother's house around 2:30 and headed to Stephen's apartment to eat some more. I was so tired of eating and really getting sleepy, plus, I'd had a few glasses of wine; I was feeling very relaxed. I handed Trey the keys to my car and laid my head back on the head rest and lowered my eye lids while he made the drive to Shelby County. Somewhere along the interstate, Trey mentioned having one more Christmas gift.
"But I thought we'd already exchanged our gifts earlier this month!," I protested. "I didn't get you anything else!"
"Oh it's nothing major, it's at Stephen's," he responded.
What the hell did you get me? You weren't supposed to! How did you spend money without me seeing it missing in the checking account? I wondered quietly.
"I got you those tickets to go see that Wizard of Oz thingy show -"
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWicked!!!EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" I screamed, "I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED!!!!!?"
Trey put a finger in his ear and laughed, "Yes, you're going to see Wicked."
More screaming. Actually, I think I screamed like a teenage girl seeing David Cassidy or the Beatles all the to Stephen's.
"I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED! I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED!," I continued, "Where are we sitting? Are we sitting where Stephen thought he'd get the tickets?"
"I don't know; I think it's the middle section."
"The mezzanine?"
"Yeah, I think so."
I don't care! I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED!!
We got to Stephens a few minutes later and I was still so giddy, I was singing.
Apparently, Stephen had a plan, though, "Why did you tell her? I had it all planned out!"
"I'll act surprised!" I reassured him, "I can fake it!"
I don't think it assured Stephen well enough. I tried to act surprised anyway when I opened the gift and didn't fake anything at all when I read where we were sitting.
ROW D ORCHESTRA
no way...
"Third row???"
"Yup!"
"I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED ON THE THIRD ROW!" the poor neighbors. I just kept screaming!!
We left my mother's house around 2:30 and headed to Stephen's apartment to eat some more. I was so tired of eating and really getting sleepy, plus, I'd had a few glasses of wine; I was feeling very relaxed. I handed Trey the keys to my car and laid my head back on the head rest and lowered my eye lids while he made the drive to Shelby County. Somewhere along the interstate, Trey mentioned having one more Christmas gift.
"But I thought we'd already exchanged our gifts earlier this month!," I protested. "I didn't get you anything else!"
"Oh it's nothing major, it's at Stephen's," he responded.
What the hell did you get me? You weren't supposed to! How did you spend money without me seeing it missing in the checking account? I wondered quietly.
"I got you those tickets to go see that Wizard of Oz thingy show -"
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWicked!!!EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" I screamed, "I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED!!!!!?"
Trey put a finger in his ear and laughed, "Yes, you're going to see Wicked."
More screaming. Actually, I think I screamed like a teenage girl seeing David Cassidy or the Beatles all the to Stephen's.
"I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED! I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED!," I continued, "Where are we sitting? Are we sitting where Stephen thought he'd get the tickets?"
"I don't know; I think it's the middle section."
"The mezzanine?"
"Yeah, I think so."
I don't care! I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED!!
We got to Stephens a few minutes later and I was still so giddy, I was singing.
Apparently, Stephen had a plan, though, "Why did you tell her? I had it all planned out!"
"I'll act surprised!" I reassured him, "I can fake it!"
I don't think it assured Stephen well enough. I tried to act surprised anyway when I opened the gift and didn't fake anything at all when I read where we were sitting.
ROW D ORCHESTRA
no way...
"Third row???"
"Yup!"
"I'M GOING TO SEE WICKED ON THE THIRD ROW!" the poor neighbors. I just kept screaming!!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
The last you heard about...
Last month I went on a ghost hunt and I said then that I would have more information to detail later. I know I haven't done that yet and I apologize. I haven't because I was asked to write the actual story for the paper that got us invited.
Once it prints, I'll post the story for you. You'll get to read all about the evidence and experiences I had that night. It was so much fun and I can't wait to share it with you!
Once it prints, I'll post the story for you. You'll get to read all about the evidence and experiences I had that night. It was so much fun and I can't wait to share it with you!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The day I exploded
What a very strange week it's been.
We've had some crazy customer after crazy customer come into the store! One cussed me out a few hours ago!
This woman should be on medication! I have done nothing but bend over backwards to help her while she has continually antagonized me, my boss, the salesman and the name of this dealership. And she tells me to "Shut the f*ck up!"
This whole situation has been brewing for a few weeks now. Starting dollars in change. Literally. It's ridiculous. She's proof that there are crazy people well disguised walking around in society. She's evidence that no matter what you do to help, you can never make some people happy. She's further proof that no matter how much you brown nose and kiss ass a person, that person still has the choice not to appreciate your efforts just because.
I have never in my time here at this dealership walked away from a customer. I never imagined in my wildest that I would tell a customer they could help themselves. But when she accused me of not doing what I had proved to her I had done, accused me of being a liar, refused to allow me to show her where I had done everything within my means to help her, and continued to throw F-bombs at me for trying to show her what we had done in order to help her, I stopped myself from slapping her into the corner of my office for wasting my time.
As the woman began cussing and spewing her venom, I could feel my blood pressure rise. I could feel my pulse quicken, my hands start to shake. I've always wanted to be able to tell a customer where they can go with some of the idiocy he may bring and this lady had given me that opportunity.
I picked up her paperwork, the evidence of my case. I threw it down on my desk, lightly tossing it in her direction. I threw my hands down on my desk with my hands in tight fists. I stood up and as she began to follow me, I leaned over my desk and looked her dead in the eyes. For a second, she was frozen, half-way standing up as I spoke.
"Mrs. [Customer]," I stated as calmly as was possible, "I am done trying to help you. I will not be spoken to that way."
"I'll just call my attorney," she screamed as she stood all the way up. I was already walking out of my office door before she could put the period at the end of her sentence.
"That's fine! This conversation is officially over then," it was getting harder for me to keep my voice low. I was turning the corner in the hallway by this time and saw the owner walking past us. His eyes looked like they needed some assistance staying in their sockets. "If you speak to your attorney, I am no longer allowed to speak with you, Mrs. [Customer], have a nice day." I could feel my voice starting to shake. Why am I letting this customer get to me?
She continued to scream at me as she chased me down the hallway. That's why she's getting to me. I realized as I paced to the front of the showroom that I had somehow picked up the paperwork again. She continued as I walked, sounding like the parents in the Peanuts cartoons, "Wa wa wa, wa-wa wa waaa."
I finally reached the top of the tower, still hearing her spew out her hatred for me. What have I done to offend you other than bend over backwards and kiss your big, fat, white ass, you bItch! I wondered. "Ma'am, I'm done."
"Wa-wa wa, wa wa wa-wa wa," she continued. I don't even know what she was saying as my blood pressure was about to pop my ear drums. Enough, already! I could feel every pair of eyes on us as the conversation continued to escalate.
"Ma'am, I've already told you that if you want to consult your attorney on this matter, than I can no longer speak to you. I am just telling you now that I will not tolerate being spoken to that way, especially when I have done nothing wrong and everything in my power to help you in your situation!" I threw the papers back down on the desk and let the sales manager take over.
She finally left and the owner and sales manager just looked at me. "She told me, in her exact words, we 'never f*cking sent the check when we were supposed to send the f*cking check,' and told me to 'shut the f*ck up a minute' while she told me it was my fault for the fifteenth time." I could feel how red my face was getting.
Both of them looked at each other, awestruck. They knew as well as I did that I never treat customers that abrasively. The paused their stares at me. Then the owner smirked and snorted, "Good for you!"
We've had some crazy customer after crazy customer come into the store! One cussed me out a few hours ago!
This woman should be on medication! I have done nothing but bend over backwards to help her while she has continually antagonized me, my boss, the salesman and the name of this dealership. And she tells me to "Shut the f*ck up!"
This whole situation has been brewing for a few weeks now. Starting dollars in change. Literally. It's ridiculous. She's proof that there are crazy people well disguised walking around in society. She's evidence that no matter what you do to help, you can never make some people happy. She's further proof that no matter how much you brown nose and kiss ass a person, that person still has the choice not to appreciate your efforts just because.
I have never in my time here at this dealership walked away from a customer. I never imagined in my wildest that I would tell a customer they could help themselves. But when she accused me of not doing what I had proved to her I had done, accused me of being a liar, refused to allow me to show her where I had done everything within my means to help her, and continued to throw F-bombs at me for trying to show her what we had done in order to help her, I stopped myself from slapping her into the corner of my office for wasting my time.
As the woman began cussing and spewing her venom, I could feel my blood pressure rise. I could feel my pulse quicken, my hands start to shake. I've always wanted to be able to tell a customer where they can go with some of the idiocy he may bring and this lady had given me that opportunity.
I picked up her paperwork, the evidence of my case. I threw it down on my desk, lightly tossing it in her direction. I threw my hands down on my desk with my hands in tight fists. I stood up and as she began to follow me, I leaned over my desk and looked her dead in the eyes. For a second, she was frozen, half-way standing up as I spoke.
"Mrs. [Customer]," I stated as calmly as was possible, "I am done trying to help you. I will not be spoken to that way."
"I'll just call my attorney," she screamed as she stood all the way up. I was already walking out of my office door before she could put the period at the end of her sentence.
"That's fine! This conversation is officially over then," it was getting harder for me to keep my voice low. I was turning the corner in the hallway by this time and saw the owner walking past us. His eyes looked like they needed some assistance staying in their sockets. "If you speak to your attorney, I am no longer allowed to speak with you, Mrs. [Customer], have a nice day." I could feel my voice starting to shake. Why am I letting this customer get to me?
She continued to scream at me as she chased me down the hallway. That's why she's getting to me. I realized as I paced to the front of the showroom that I had somehow picked up the paperwork again. She continued as I walked, sounding like the parents in the Peanuts cartoons, "Wa wa wa, wa-wa wa waaa."
I finally reached the top of the tower, still hearing her spew out her hatred for me. What have I done to offend you other than bend over backwards and kiss your big, fat, white ass, you bItch! I wondered. "Ma'am, I'm done."
"Wa-wa wa, wa wa wa-wa wa," she continued. I don't even know what she was saying as my blood pressure was about to pop my ear drums. Enough, already! I could feel every pair of eyes on us as the conversation continued to escalate.
"Ma'am, I've already told you that if you want to consult your attorney on this matter, than I can no longer speak to you. I am just telling you now that I will not tolerate being spoken to that way, especially when I have done nothing wrong and everything in my power to help you in your situation!" I threw the papers back down on the desk and let the sales manager take over.
She finally left and the owner and sales manager just looked at me. "She told me, in her exact words, we 'never f*cking sent the check when we were supposed to send the f*cking check,' and told me to 'shut the f*ck up a minute' while she told me it was my fault for the fifteenth time." I could feel how red my face was getting.
Both of them looked at each other, awestruck. They knew as well as I did that I never treat customers that abrasively. The paused their stares at me. Then the owner smirked and snorted, "Good for you!"
Thursday, December 18, 2008
From under the rock
I've already had a confusing morning. I just don't understand some people.
I was literally putting my salad, apple and banana in a bag, about to walk out the door when my phone rings. I didn't have to think about it; I knew it was work even though I was secretly hoping it was my friend, Brooke, telling me if she was having a boy or a girl (or babies!).
"Stephanie, W's customers are here. They've been here since 8. Is the paperwork ready?" It was D. Thank God he knows the paperwork, too! It's 8:20 in the morning and I'm confused as to why the customer is there so early.
"Yeah, it's printed. All they have to do is sign," I confirmed. "W told me 8:30, D, I'm sorry I'm not there! I'm literally walking out the door, though!"
D sounded frustrated, like he didn't know exactly what to tell this customer. Tell them we open at 8:30 and W confirmed 8:30 with them as they were walking out the door last night! I thought. But I wasn't sure if D knew that. Better he stay naive.
I drove to the dealership, not worried about flying. The roads are wet, traffic's been kind of crazy, these people were told 8:30, I know, and I live three minutes from the dealership, anyway. I parked my car thinking that by the time I'd get to my office, the customers would be finished and all I'd have to say was, "I'm sorry."
Before I could get out of my car, W was standing at me door.
"Stephanie, I don't know where she got 8 from. I know I told you 8:30. She might have confused me. I told her we didn't open until 8:30," he looked like he was worried he was going to get in trouble. I was only worried about his survey. If he doesn't get a 10, he doesn't get paid. At the same time I was thinking this shouldn't have been such a big deal; if she wanted to meet me at 8, I live just down the street! It would've been fine with me.
"Don't worry about it," I tried to brush it off.
"Do me a favor, though."
mmm..."What?"
"Tell her your sorry you're running late?" he asked. W looked like he knew he was asking a lot. It's not uncommon to step out of the humility comfort zone in my position; I knew it was coming.
"Yeah, no big deal. I'll take care of it."
I walked in the dealership, put down my bag, grabbed me keys and explained the situation to C. I ran back to my office and immediately, "Hey, Mrs. J. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. Please accept me apologies. I ran a tad late. I hope D has been able to take good care of you. Again, I'm so sorry!"
The woman's eyes looked like they were trying to bore into my head to find truth. "You hear 8 didn't you?"
"Honestly, ma'am, I heard 8:30, but I will honestly say I may have misunderstood the times. I'm so sorry."
D looked at her and mentioned something about not being open until 8:30; meanwhile I couldn't get over the look she had in her face. I tried to help D out while he finished her paperwork. She said she'd "think" about our survey and left.
About and hour later, I get this phone call:
"I bought a 2005 Hyundai and I bought it from another dealership that's out of business and I had a quick question about if you honor the Hyundai Warranty there."
"Yes, ma'am we do. As long as it's under manufacturer's warranty, we can do warranty work."
"Ok, I had another quick question."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I had the tire's for life there. Do you honor that?"
"No, ma'am. That was something with your dealership."
"Well, I just had to get new tires from somebody else, will ya'll do the tires for life?"
"No ma'am."
"I have another question."
"OK?"
"About the tires for life. With the new tires I got, will ya'll replace them there?"
"No ma'am, we don't honor the tires for life from the other dealership."
"Well they told me I to get my oil changes done there for the tires for life. Does that matter anymore?"
"No, ma'am, not if they're out of business, but we don't honor the tires for life."
"Well, how much are oil changes?"
"Let me connect you to the service department..." Thank God!
Is it another full moon already???
I was literally putting my salad, apple and banana in a bag, about to walk out the door when my phone rings. I didn't have to think about it; I knew it was work even though I was secretly hoping it was my friend, Brooke, telling me if she was having a boy or a girl (or babies!).
"Stephanie, W's customers are here. They've been here since 8. Is the paperwork ready?" It was D. Thank God he knows the paperwork, too! It's 8:20 in the morning and I'm confused as to why the customer is there so early.
"Yeah, it's printed. All they have to do is sign," I confirmed. "W told me 8:30, D, I'm sorry I'm not there! I'm literally walking out the door, though!"
D sounded frustrated, like he didn't know exactly what to tell this customer. Tell them we open at 8:30 and W confirmed 8:30 with them as they were walking out the door last night! I thought. But I wasn't sure if D knew that. Better he stay naive.
I drove to the dealership, not worried about flying. The roads are wet, traffic's been kind of crazy, these people were told 8:30, I know, and I live three minutes from the dealership, anyway. I parked my car thinking that by the time I'd get to my office, the customers would be finished and all I'd have to say was, "I'm sorry."
Before I could get out of my car, W was standing at me door.
"Stephanie, I don't know where she got 8 from. I know I told you 8:30. She might have confused me. I told her we didn't open until 8:30," he looked like he was worried he was going to get in trouble. I was only worried about his survey. If he doesn't get a 10, he doesn't get paid. At the same time I was thinking this shouldn't have been such a big deal; if she wanted to meet me at 8, I live just down the street! It would've been fine with me.
"Don't worry about it," I tried to brush it off.
"Do me a favor, though."
mmm..."What?"
"Tell her your sorry you're running late?" he asked. W looked like he knew he was asking a lot. It's not uncommon to step out of the humility comfort zone in my position; I knew it was coming.
"Yeah, no big deal. I'll take care of it."
I walked in the dealership, put down my bag, grabbed me keys and explained the situation to C. I ran back to my office and immediately, "Hey, Mrs. J. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. Please accept me apologies. I ran a tad late. I hope D has been able to take good care of you. Again, I'm so sorry!"
The woman's eyes looked like they were trying to bore into my head to find truth. "You hear 8 didn't you?"
"Honestly, ma'am, I heard 8:30, but I will honestly say I may have misunderstood the times. I'm so sorry."
D looked at her and mentioned something about not being open until 8:30; meanwhile I couldn't get over the look she had in her face. I tried to help D out while he finished her paperwork. She said she'd "think" about our survey and left.
About and hour later, I get this phone call:
"I bought a 2005 Hyundai and I bought it from another dealership that's out of business and I had a quick question about if you honor the Hyundai Warranty there."
"Yes, ma'am we do. As long as it's under manufacturer's warranty, we can do warranty work."
"Ok, I had another quick question."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I had the tire's for life there. Do you honor that?"
"No, ma'am. That was something with your dealership."
"Well, I just had to get new tires from somebody else, will ya'll do the tires for life?"
"No ma'am."
"I have another question."
"OK?"
"About the tires for life. With the new tires I got, will ya'll replace them there?"
"No ma'am, we don't honor the tires for life from the other dealership."
"Well they told me I to get my oil changes done there for the tires for life. Does that matter anymore?"
"No, ma'am, not if they're out of business, but we don't honor the tires for life."
"Well, how much are oil changes?"
"Let me connect you to the service department..." Thank God!
Is it another full moon already???
Monday, December 15, 2008
Daycare
Fifteen minutes till the end of the business day and this verbal exchange has me curious if allowing myself to be run over or if I'm as bitchy as I sometimes feel.
Salesman, "I'm going to the store. I'll be back before 6."
I am puzzled. "We're about to close. Why don't you wait fifteen minutes?"
The salesman looks at me like I'm stupid, "I'll have to walk."
"Huh?" I must be stupid.
"I'll. Have. To. Walk," he repeats, verbally confirming that he thinks I'm stupid. "It's the store right down the street! Why don't you just let me go?! I'll be right back!"
"I don't understand why you can't wait fifteen minutes and why you can't get whomever is taking you home to drop you off by the store," I argued. I was getting frustrated with his attitude.
"You see, I'll have to walk, it's going to rain. I'll still have to walk -" At this point his rambling isn't making any sense to me. I'm not sure whether it's because it's the end of the day or if he really isn't making much sense and is just looking for an excuse to drive one of our cars considering he doesn't own a vehicle. I can say this, asking why he thinks he'll still have to walk in the rain if his chauffeur lets him take a detour is pointless and would take up the fifteen minutes we had left in the day.
"Just go," I interrupted.
"What?"
"Just. Go." I put my finger between the bridge of nose to suppress the frustration and confusion.
Ten minutes later, with five minutes left in the day, the salesmen returns, looks to see if it's time to go yet, jumps in some other salesman's vehicle and leaves for the day.
I personally feel like - or rather, I know I was bullied into allowing him to go to the store. However, sometimes it's just better to forget about it instead of saying, "Hate it for ya!"
Salesman, "I'm going to the store. I'll be back before 6."
I am puzzled. "We're about to close. Why don't you wait fifteen minutes?"
The salesman looks at me like I'm stupid, "I'll have to walk."
"Huh?" I must be stupid.
"I'll. Have. To. Walk," he repeats, verbally confirming that he thinks I'm stupid. "It's the store right down the street! Why don't you just let me go?! I'll be right back!"
"I don't understand why you can't wait fifteen minutes and why you can't get whomever is taking you home to drop you off by the store," I argued. I was getting frustrated with his attitude.
"You see, I'll have to walk, it's going to rain. I'll still have to walk -" At this point his rambling isn't making any sense to me. I'm not sure whether it's because it's the end of the day or if he really isn't making much sense and is just looking for an excuse to drive one of our cars considering he doesn't own a vehicle. I can say this, asking why he thinks he'll still have to walk in the rain if his chauffeur lets him take a detour is pointless and would take up the fifteen minutes we had left in the day.
"Just go," I interrupted.
"What?"
"Just. Go." I put my finger between the bridge of nose to suppress the frustration and confusion.
Ten minutes later, with five minutes left in the day, the salesmen returns, looks to see if it's time to go yet, jumps in some other salesman's vehicle and leaves for the day.
I personally feel like - or rather, I know I was bullied into allowing him to go to the store. However, sometimes it's just better to forget about it instead of saying, "Hate it for ya!"
Friday, December 12, 2008
If it can, it will
I got a great work out in at the gym this morning. So good that I lost track of the time and had to run in the shower before I'd be any later for work.
I ran in the locker room, sorted out my shower gear, slipped out of my sweaty gym clothes and dashed into the shower. As soon as I was done, I started drying off. First my hair - since it's so thick I have to start drying as soon as I'm done. Then the rest of me.
I wrapped the towel around me and headed to my shower bag to grab my baby powder and deoderant. For some reason, I thought I'd do things a bit differently today. Instead of smelling good first, I thought I'd blast my hair some with the hair dryer and then deoderize. I plugged in my hairdryer and got started.
I turned my head upside-down, feeling the hot air through my damp fingertips and hair. I then turned my head up and continued brushing my hair with the tips of my fingers. Accidentally, I kept hitting the "cool" button on the back of my hairbrush. It got me tickled because I noticed how the lights would get brighter whenever I pushed it. I have to admit, it made me a little distracted; I kept hitting the "cool" button! That's when I noticed the bright flash of light.
Out of the corner of my eye, whenever I'd hit the button, the fire alarm would light up. I really thought it was my hairdryer tripping this light. So I hit the button some more. Then the light was out of sync with my hairdryer and I realized that the fire alarm was really going off!
Oh, shit! I'm naked! was my first thought. The second was Did my hairdryer do that? Nooo...
So I did what any normal human being standing naked in the gym locker room playing with their hair dryer would do: I kept getting ready for work! I combed out my hair, put in some mousse, laid out my make-up, etc. etc. Finally, the alarm started talking. It said, in so many words, "The alarm sensor has been tripped. Calmly walk to the nearest exit, please."
Well, I couldn't. I'm still wrapped in a big, red beach towel!
So what do I do now? was my next thought. I'm the only female in the locker room. Surely if this is a real emergency, somebody will knock and tell me to get out of here!
Then I did what any normal human being standing naked in the gym locker room listening to the fire alarm would do: I got my clothes on and walked out to the floor barefoot with my hair wet to find out what was going on.
I found two groups of people. The first group was the biggest. They were ignoring the alarm and working out. The second wasn't really a group. It was three people. Two employees and a member. One employee was on the phone with the alarm company while the other was laughing at me and the member was asking me why the alarm was going off. I had several thoughts at one time. They go as follows:
Oh, it's tripped.
Oh, they're trying to fix it by the phone.
Do I look like I'm holding a magic 8 ball lady? I'm standing half-dressed and barefoot lady!
False alarm.
God, I hope it wasn't my hairdryer!
I finished getting ready and headed to my car. I just kept my head down in case it was my hairdryer and I was not going to get caught!! I got to my car, looked up and saw the air conditioning people, apologizing profusely about tripping the fire alarm.
I ran in the locker room, sorted out my shower gear, slipped out of my sweaty gym clothes and dashed into the shower. As soon as I was done, I started drying off. First my hair - since it's so thick I have to start drying as soon as I'm done. Then the rest of me.
I wrapped the towel around me and headed to my shower bag to grab my baby powder and deoderant. For some reason, I thought I'd do things a bit differently today. Instead of smelling good first, I thought I'd blast my hair some with the hair dryer and then deoderize. I plugged in my hairdryer and got started.
I turned my head upside-down, feeling the hot air through my damp fingertips and hair. I then turned my head up and continued brushing my hair with the tips of my fingers. Accidentally, I kept hitting the "cool" button on the back of my hairbrush. It got me tickled because I noticed how the lights would get brighter whenever I pushed it. I have to admit, it made me a little distracted; I kept hitting the "cool" button! That's when I noticed the bright flash of light.
Out of the corner of my eye, whenever I'd hit the button, the fire alarm would light up. I really thought it was my hairdryer tripping this light. So I hit the button some more. Then the light was out of sync with my hairdryer and I realized that the fire alarm was really going off!
Oh, shit! I'm naked! was my first thought. The second was Did my hairdryer do that? Nooo...
So I did what any normal human being standing naked in the gym locker room playing with their hair dryer would do: I kept getting ready for work! I combed out my hair, put in some mousse, laid out my make-up, etc. etc. Finally, the alarm started talking. It said, in so many words, "The alarm sensor has been tripped. Calmly walk to the nearest exit, please."
Well, I couldn't. I'm still wrapped in a big, red beach towel!
So what do I do now? was my next thought. I'm the only female in the locker room. Surely if this is a real emergency, somebody will knock and tell me to get out of here!
Then I did what any normal human being standing naked in the gym locker room listening to the fire alarm would do: I got my clothes on and walked out to the floor barefoot with my hair wet to find out what was going on.
I found two groups of people. The first group was the biggest. They were ignoring the alarm and working out. The second wasn't really a group. It was three people. Two employees and a member. One employee was on the phone with the alarm company while the other was laughing at me and the member was asking me why the alarm was going off. I had several thoughts at one time. They go as follows:
Oh, it's tripped.
Oh, they're trying to fix it by the phone.
Do I look like I'm holding a magic 8 ball lady? I'm standing half-dressed and barefoot lady!
False alarm.
God, I hope it wasn't my hairdryer!
I finished getting ready and headed to my car. I just kept my head down in case it was my hairdryer and I was not going to get caught!! I got to my car, looked up and saw the air conditioning people, apologizing profusely about tripping the fire alarm.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
#1 Fan
Text message from Stephen: Hear about Wicked?
Me: What about? Coming to Bham!!!!! Make trey get tickets!!! I want to go sooooo bad!!!
S: I can get tickets now
Me: What????? How much??
S: I think 30 thru 78 this is a presale too could get some really good seats!
Me: I can't say yes to that! I've got my half marathon to register for this month! Early Christmas present?
S: What r u asking me? half marathon?
Me: I'm running in a half marathon and I have to regsiter this month. Costs money. How long do we have for presale?
S: I don't know! think [Trey] would go? i was actually thinking of getting tickets
Me: All I know is that I'm going if I have to sneak in!!
Conversation with Trey:
"Hey, baby," stay sweet! "What are you doing??"
"Working. Just got off the phone with a client."
"Oh, that's great! I'm glad! Busy day?"
"Yes, busy." He knows somethings up! Dammit!
"I talked to Stephen just now." Just keep smiling!
"Oh yeah? What'd he say?" He knows I'm about to ask for something...
"Oh, that he can get presale tickets to Wicked now and I really want to go, I hear it's awesome, I really want to go see it -"
"No."
"But it's WICKED!"
"What's Wicked?"
"It's the Wizard of Oz. On. Broadway." duh!
"How much?" shit!
"I don't know," 'attagirl! Keep smiling! "Talk to Stephen! I don't know how he's got the connection or how long we have. All I know is there is no "NO" to Wicked."
"When is it?"
"April."
"Can it wait?"
"There. is. no. "NO." to. Wicked."
Me: What about? Coming to Bham!!!!! Make trey get tickets!!! I want to go sooooo bad!!!
S: I can get tickets now
Me: What????? How much??
S: I think 30 thru 78 this is a presale too could get some really good seats!
Me: I can't say yes to that! I've got my half marathon to register for this month! Early Christmas present?
S: What r u asking me? half marathon?
Me: I'm running in a half marathon and I have to regsiter this month. Costs money. How long do we have for presale?
S: I don't know! think [Trey] would go? i was actually thinking of getting tickets
Me: All I know is that I'm going if I have to sneak in!!
Conversation with Trey:
"Hey, baby," stay sweet! "What are you doing??"
"Working. Just got off the phone with a client."
"Oh, that's great! I'm glad! Busy day?"
"Yes, busy." He knows somethings up! Dammit!
"I talked to Stephen just now." Just keep smiling!
"Oh yeah? What'd he say?" He knows I'm about to ask for something...
"Oh, that he can get presale tickets to Wicked now and I really want to go, I hear it's awesome, I really want to go see it -"
"No."
"But it's WICKED!"
"What's Wicked?"
"It's the Wizard of Oz. On. Broadway." duh!
"How much?" shit!
"I don't know," 'attagirl! Keep smiling! "Talk to Stephen! I don't know how he's got the connection or how long we have. All I know is there is no "NO" to Wicked."
"When is it?"
"April."
"Can it wait?"
"There. is. no. "NO." to. Wicked."
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Bird Lessons
The air in Tuscaloosa is sooo sweet right now. You know how characters of a sitcom are in an unusually good mood the day after they have a "successful" date? That's what it's like here in Tuscaloosa - like all the citizens got a really good -er- massage.
Any Auburn fan in town is very quiet. Or already talking about next year. Plenty are talking about how dirty Nick Saban is because of how he acted at half-time. I disagree. I think he did what any coach would do - his job! This bud's for you, Nicky!
I think the sportsmanship is all in good fun, though. I always have. It's healthy! Everybody treats me like I'm this die-hard, asshole type fan and I'm really not! I'm really just having a lot of fun! And 99.9% of the people who really know me know that when I flip you off it's in good humor. I don't really mean any offensive gesture, and to be honest, I don't think I ever have meant it. It's sort of my signature. Several people I work with haven't had a complete day until I give them the finger!
So, when I made up the joke, "Hey, Auburn fans, fear my finger!" and held up my middle finger - it really was meant as a joke! Not in bad sportsmanship! Not in low-class! Not in smart-ass! It really was a joke! And I didn't just go around flashing my joke to just anyone! I mean, if you know me, you know it's a joke right? I thought so!
So the other day, well Saturday - the day of the Iron Bowl - I ran into this guy I know at the gym. He's tall, middle-aged, very sporty, salt-and-pepper gray hair. He is always very nice and from what I know of him, he and his wife are very genuine people who will get their reward in heaven. I was working my legs in a circuit when he waved and we started chatting. He finished his workout and I didn't think anything about the routine "Roll Tide" I offered as he said good bye.
"Oh, no!" He shook his head. "War Eagle!"
"Seriously?" I'm always dumbstruck by the Auburn fans who reside in Tuscaloosa, Alabama of all places!
"Yeah, that's where I went to school!" I then remembered that he's also originally from my hometown. Where I grew up, the ratio of Alabama to Auburn fans is close to 50/50. Still, very few homes are divided there. I find it hard to imagine that you can't marry a fan of the opposing team but can reside in the territory of the enemy...just seems weird.
"Oh! Well, looking forward to today's game!" I said cheerfully, "It's going to be a great game! I think the streak is going to be over, though!"
He laughed, "Yeah, Auburn's got to get it together to beat Bama."
"I get kind of tickled by all this 'fear the thumb' crap! It's just funny how serious some people take it" FYI - all fans Alabama or Auburn take it serious. Say what you want, we're serious about our SEC football and the Iron Bowl. Get over it!
"Yeah, we're going to be out of jokes for a year!" he agreed.
He stood there laughing for a second while I thought, Surely, he'll get my joke! "Hey, I've been teasing my Auburn friends all year!"
"Oh really?" He raised his eyebrows, "How?"
"Oh, I've just been telling them to fear my finger!" And I held up my finger, very flemsly-like - to be sure he knew it wasn't to cause offense.
I laughed at myself, thinking certainly he would know I obviously didn't direct the joke towards him! These birds are delicate matters you see - I know when to make sure my joke is intended to be a joke! Well, it wasn't flemsy enough! This kind of moment can only happen in a movie... or to me!
His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. His hand waved me off and flew to hold the top of his hat as he literaly jumped up in the air, turned and ran out of the gym. The door slammed behind him and I was left with my middle finger halfway up in the air, speechless.
Oops...Note to self: Don't joke with strangers. Worse than taking their candy!
Any Auburn fan in town is very quiet. Or already talking about next year. Plenty are talking about how dirty Nick Saban is because of how he acted at half-time. I disagree. I think he did what any coach would do - his job! This bud's for you, Nicky!
I think the sportsmanship is all in good fun, though. I always have. It's healthy! Everybody treats me like I'm this die-hard, asshole type fan and I'm really not! I'm really just having a lot of fun! And 99.9% of the people who really know me know that when I flip you off it's in good humor. I don't really mean any offensive gesture, and to be honest, I don't think I ever have meant it. It's sort of my signature. Several people I work with haven't had a complete day until I give them the finger!
So, when I made up the joke, "Hey, Auburn fans, fear my finger!" and held up my middle finger - it really was meant as a joke! Not in bad sportsmanship! Not in low-class! Not in smart-ass! It really was a joke! And I didn't just go around flashing my joke to just anyone! I mean, if you know me, you know it's a joke right? I thought so!
So the other day, well Saturday - the day of the Iron Bowl - I ran into this guy I know at the gym. He's tall, middle-aged, very sporty, salt-and-pepper gray hair. He is always very nice and from what I know of him, he and his wife are very genuine people who will get their reward in heaven. I was working my legs in a circuit when he waved and we started chatting. He finished his workout and I didn't think anything about the routine "Roll Tide" I offered as he said good bye.
"Oh, no!" He shook his head. "War Eagle!"
"Seriously?" I'm always dumbstruck by the Auburn fans who reside in Tuscaloosa, Alabama of all places!
"Yeah, that's where I went to school!" I then remembered that he's also originally from my hometown. Where I grew up, the ratio of Alabama to Auburn fans is close to 50/50. Still, very few homes are divided there. I find it hard to imagine that you can't marry a fan of the opposing team but can reside in the territory of the enemy...just seems weird.
"Oh! Well, looking forward to today's game!" I said cheerfully, "It's going to be a great game! I think the streak is going to be over, though!"
He laughed, "Yeah, Auburn's got to get it together to beat Bama."
"I get kind of tickled by all this 'fear the thumb' crap! It's just funny how serious some people take it" FYI - all fans Alabama or Auburn take it serious. Say what you want, we're serious about our SEC football and the Iron Bowl. Get over it!
"Yeah, we're going to be out of jokes for a year!" he agreed.
He stood there laughing for a second while I thought, Surely, he'll get my joke! "Hey, I've been teasing my Auburn friends all year!"
"Oh really?" He raised his eyebrows, "How?"
"Oh, I've just been telling them to fear my finger!" And I held up my finger, very flemsly-like - to be sure he knew it wasn't to cause offense.
I laughed at myself, thinking certainly he would know I obviously didn't direct the joke towards him! These birds are delicate matters you see - I know when to make sure my joke is intended to be a joke! Well, it wasn't flemsy enough! This kind of moment can only happen in a movie... or to me!
His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. His hand waved me off and flew to hold the top of his hat as he literaly jumped up in the air, turned and ran out of the gym. The door slammed behind him and I was left with my middle finger halfway up in the air, speechless.
Oops...Note to self: Don't joke with strangers. Worse than taking their candy!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The Auction
Trey has an auction addiction and I have an antique addiction. When I found out there was an antique auction in Sunday, neither of us could pass up the visit! The thing about this auction was that it was in Moundville - which is in the land of no cell phone signal - a.k.a. Middle of No Where. It was a lot of fun, though, and some of the items went for cheap; much to the chagrin of the man who was selling the estates.
We headed out of the house about thirty minutes before it started. Moundville is about twenty minutes south on Hwy 69. Once you are in Hale County, you pass the Hale County High School (original) and turn right at the one and only traffic/caution light. Once you follow the two lane road less than a mile, you'll enter into a very small town.
There is a small restaurant where everybody goes to eat regularly. It's called Ms. Melissa's. I haven't eaten there myself, but I hear it's delicious. Directly across the street from the diner is another two lane road lined with old, brick building's on either side. All of the buildings look like a giant piece of sandpaper ran across them at some point. All of the windows are covered with sheets or signs. It looks desolate. If you were to visit at night, I doubt you'd think anything was ever open. Not one of the buildings had a business sign in the front and all looked like they were teasing with condemnation.
"Where is this auction? Doesn't look like anything is here," I wondered if my husband would be more familiar with this than myself. I had just heard of this place through word of mouth and had no clue what we were getting into.
"Just go in those doors right there," He pointed to the small strip of buildings that sat adjacent to Ms. Melissa's. It was a white store front with sheets in the front. The display windows were line with what looked like bed sheets and had bikes, chairs and all sorts of random objects clumsily strewn in view. It had two glass front doors on either sides of the main display window that allowed the only glimpse of anything inside. "That's where everybody else is going."
I looked around and realized there were other vehicles but I couldn't find any persons to occupy those vehicles. "None of the buildings look open. Which one are they going in? Where is everybody to follow?"
Trey put me in view of the white store front. "Oh," I said, thinking I wasn't stupid for thinking this place was closed, along with everything else in the small corner. We walked inside to rows of metal chairs. Spaced somewhat evenly between were small pillows and cushions to site on. They looked like the pillows that sat on your grandmother's sofa. Some were decorated in white lace, others wore a crocheted brown and orange cover. In the end, I was glad to see them; the seats were cold and hard.
People were standing around the place, picking up some of the smaller trinkets and touching the larger wooden pieces of furniture. There were kitchen tables in the mix, throwing memories of hours spent around a kitchen table laughing and talking, crying and rejoicing in my head. I wondered how many hours families had spent around the tables now about to be auctioned.
The small crowd gathered in their seats and the auctioned started. Then the scene became a Southern Norman Rockwell painting. The auctioneer picked up a microphone and began describing some of the lots. I got tickled thinking of the heavy southern accent on a microphone for the maybe twenty people in the room. He had on a glasses and a pullover and was wearing a ball cap. He sat on a stool the entire time he called for bids. Twice he stood up but he made sure to let us know he was about to take a stand! Meanwhile, the seller, a man who looked like a mix Colonel Sanders and Santa Clause, paced back and forth infront of the buyers, "Put dis with'it!" and, "That's cheap! Ah might'noh sell it!"
We, as Southerners, get stereotyped for our accents and education thanks to those nice people on cable news who find the person who can say, "Eh'sounded lak a frate tren," the best when a tornado comes through. Let me just say Thank God they haven't been to Moundville because there are a plethora of people to fit that stigma there!
Here are some examples:
• "Pewter" is pronounced "Peter"
• "Open Bid" is "How much ya'll wanna start the biddin' fer?"
• "Vase" is not a vase, it's "This glass pitcher, real pretty!"
• "For Sale" is pronounced "Fer Sale"
• "Stained Glass" is "Winders"
I'm born and raised in Alabama, I'm proud of it. I was educated Sunday.
Then Santa got pissed. Furniture wasn't bringing what he thought it was worth, "winders" weren't going for what he paid. Santa rubbed his hands on his red pullover and paced faster in front of the buyers. "Haven't ya'll ever herd of spray paint?! You can paint this stuff! Ah don'know why Ah even try - Not Sold! Not Sold!" When a dresser came up for sale and only brought $20, Santa screamed, "Don'you folks know how t'disstress paint - putsum sandpaper on it? Not Sold!! Ya'll newcomers comin'in here not ev'n biddin' like Ah do this for mah health!"
I thought, "Surely he's not talking about us! He can't expect us to bid on EVERYTHING - His 'antique' glass is a fake, anyway!"
He had this beautiful blue and white plate and pitcher. Thing was, he called it Blue Willow. I know my Blue Willow. There was no badge on the bottom. It wasn't Blue Willow. Plus, it was the wrong shade of blue. It wasn't Blue Willow. When he called the second piece Blue Willow, too, I lost all respect. None of his stuff was going to be worth what he thought it should be, in my opinion any way. To me, he apparantly was bullshitting his way through all of the pieces and had no idea what had value and what didn't!
In the end, they began asking people to start a bid on any other items not listed to be sold. Trey and I had attempted for the lamp we wanted, but they never called our bid out - we weren't about to open the floor on a piece of furniture we'd eyed in hopes it wouldn't go for more than what we wanted to pay and the hope that he'd still sell it to us.
There is another auction coming up in a month. We'll probably check at the auction one more time. The items he did sale went for next to nothing. Plus, you'll never know what kind of lagniappe you'll get with it! Santa's always throwing in something extra!
We headed out of the house about thirty minutes before it started. Moundville is about twenty minutes south on Hwy 69. Once you are in Hale County, you pass the Hale County High School (original) and turn right at the one and only traffic/caution light. Once you follow the two lane road less than a mile, you'll enter into a very small town.
There is a small restaurant where everybody goes to eat regularly. It's called Ms. Melissa's. I haven't eaten there myself, but I hear it's delicious. Directly across the street from the diner is another two lane road lined with old, brick building's on either side. All of the buildings look like a giant piece of sandpaper ran across them at some point. All of the windows are covered with sheets or signs. It looks desolate. If you were to visit at night, I doubt you'd think anything was ever open. Not one of the buildings had a business sign in the front and all looked like they were teasing with condemnation.
"Where is this auction? Doesn't look like anything is here," I wondered if my husband would be more familiar with this than myself. I had just heard of this place through word of mouth and had no clue what we were getting into.
"Just go in those doors right there," He pointed to the small strip of buildings that sat adjacent to Ms. Melissa's. It was a white store front with sheets in the front. The display windows were line with what looked like bed sheets and had bikes, chairs and all sorts of random objects clumsily strewn in view. It had two glass front doors on either sides of the main display window that allowed the only glimpse of anything inside. "That's where everybody else is going."
I looked around and realized there were other vehicles but I couldn't find any persons to occupy those vehicles. "None of the buildings look open. Which one are they going in? Where is everybody to follow?"
Trey put me in view of the white store front. "Oh," I said, thinking I wasn't stupid for thinking this place was closed, along with everything else in the small corner. We walked inside to rows of metal chairs. Spaced somewhat evenly between were small pillows and cushions to site on. They looked like the pillows that sat on your grandmother's sofa. Some were decorated in white lace, others wore a crocheted brown and orange cover. In the end, I was glad to see them; the seats were cold and hard.
People were standing around the place, picking up some of the smaller trinkets and touching the larger wooden pieces of furniture. There were kitchen tables in the mix, throwing memories of hours spent around a kitchen table laughing and talking, crying and rejoicing in my head. I wondered how many hours families had spent around the tables now about to be auctioned.
The small crowd gathered in their seats and the auctioned started. Then the scene became a Southern Norman Rockwell painting. The auctioneer picked up a microphone and began describing some of the lots. I got tickled thinking of the heavy southern accent on a microphone for the maybe twenty people in the room. He had on a glasses and a pullover and was wearing a ball cap. He sat on a stool the entire time he called for bids. Twice he stood up but he made sure to let us know he was about to take a stand! Meanwhile, the seller, a man who looked like a mix Colonel Sanders and Santa Clause, paced back and forth infront of the buyers, "Put dis with'it!" and, "That's cheap! Ah might'noh sell it!"
We, as Southerners, get stereotyped for our accents and education thanks to those nice people on cable news who find the person who can say, "Eh'sounded lak a frate tren," the best when a tornado comes through. Let me just say Thank God they haven't been to Moundville because there are a plethora of people to fit that stigma there!
Here are some examples:
• "Pewter" is pronounced "Peter"
• "Open Bid" is "How much ya'll wanna start the biddin' fer?"
• "Vase" is not a vase, it's "This glass pitcher, real pretty!"
• "For Sale" is pronounced "Fer Sale"
• "Stained Glass" is "Winders"
I'm born and raised in Alabama, I'm proud of it. I was educated Sunday.
Then Santa got pissed. Furniture wasn't bringing what he thought it was worth, "winders" weren't going for what he paid. Santa rubbed his hands on his red pullover and paced faster in front of the buyers. "Haven't ya'll ever herd of spray paint?! You can paint this stuff! Ah don'know why Ah even try - Not Sold! Not Sold!" When a dresser came up for sale and only brought $20, Santa screamed, "Don'you folks know how t'disstress paint - putsum sandpaper on it? Not Sold!! Ya'll newcomers comin'in here not ev'n biddin' like Ah do this for mah health!"
I thought, "Surely he's not talking about us! He can't expect us to bid on EVERYTHING - His 'antique' glass is a fake, anyway!"
He had this beautiful blue and white plate and pitcher. Thing was, he called it Blue Willow. I know my Blue Willow. There was no badge on the bottom. It wasn't Blue Willow. Plus, it was the wrong shade of blue. It wasn't Blue Willow. When he called the second piece Blue Willow, too, I lost all respect. None of his stuff was going to be worth what he thought it should be, in my opinion any way. To me, he apparantly was bullshitting his way through all of the pieces and had no idea what had value and what didn't!
In the end, they began asking people to start a bid on any other items not listed to be sold. Trey and I had attempted for the lamp we wanted, but they never called our bid out - we weren't about to open the floor on a piece of furniture we'd eyed in hopes it wouldn't go for more than what we wanted to pay and the hope that he'd still sell it to us.
There is another auction coming up in a month. We'll probably check at the auction one more time. The items he did sale went for next to nothing. Plus, you'll never know what kind of lagniappe you'll get with it! Santa's always throwing in something extra!
Friday, November 21, 2008
When you think you are, you aren't
Five mornings of the week, I get up and go to the gym before work. I wake up, comb my hair into some semblance of normal, put on my gym clothes and sneakers, grab my gym bag and head on my way.
My boss, the Fitness Nazi - he knows that's his name - is the picture definition of "Gym Rat." He eats right, most of the time, stares at his muscles in the mirror more often than he'll admit, knows what every muscle does and knows every exercise and what it works. In short, he'll kick your ass in the gym. Just for fun, he's learn jiu-jitsu. He enjoys pushing his body to its limit more than the normal person.
We both have corporate gym memberships and take advantage of it. Since he goes in the morning and I go in the morning, naturally, we just work out together and work the same muscle groups. Usually, I can keep up. Usually, he pushes me further than I would push myself but I always feel competitive - I have to be able to prove to him that I can do what I or he thinks I can't. I always try! Also, we both try to eat right - or as close to right as possible. We're both at work 10-12 hours a day and work 6 days of the week. Sometimes pizza's just convenient.
So when we had our company Thanksgiving dinner Wednesday, we were both giving ourselves cheating rights. He can eat more than I can anyway. He doesn't have to lose weight like I do. We had all that delicious food...and cake.
Oh, the cake. The cake, with it's delicious whipped topping, it's chocolate flakes on top. It was so tall and so beautiful and so...tasty! It was the most moist cake you've ever tasted. More so than your own wedding cake, I guarantee. It stood two feet tall almost! The cake was already sliced and ready to go in my mouth. The individual servings were huge! Really big enough for two or three people!
I'd already filled my plate and eaten every last bit. The dinner - all the food - it was perfect! I wanted seconds. But I wanted the cake more. It beckoned me.
"Trey," I begged, "Please bring me a piece of that big chocolate cake! I have to try that!"
My husband, who always comes to our holiday dinners along with everybody elses spouse, gladly got up and brought me a piece. He grabbed him some other dessert that I can't remember because this cake trumped his!
The size of the piece on the small Styrofoam plate alarmed me. I asked a few people to share it with me because I jut knew I wouldn't have enough room.
I was very wrong!
I took a bite. It was over. I took another bite, and another. Before I knew it, the whole piece was in my stomach. I thought surely I'd regret it later. Clint knew I felt bad. I think he did, too.
"Clint, I'm going to have to do some serious cardio after this cake!" I declared.
"We'll do some circuit training in the gym on Friday," he mentioned between bites, "gets some cardio in to get all this food off of us!"
Later came, I had another piece! I actually, kind of, sort of, verbally compared it to the act of procreating without the risk of actually reproducing to one work associate or two, or all...sorry, Mum!
When the day was over, I was glad to be away from that evil, sinful food. I felt like I had ruined my day in the gym, even though I had allowed myself this cheat!
The following day, I hadn't planned on going to the gym. I actually had to do the radio show for the dealership and just got up early as usual and piddled around the house until it was time to advertise for Tuscaloosa Hyundai. I came to work knowing that our collision center was going to have its Thanksgiving dinner and that none of that food was coming to us. Thank, God! That's why I was flabbergasted when Lori came in with what she called "a gift." Of course I knew it was leftovers! I had to go see! Who can turn down free food?
I walked over to where she stood to see the white bakery box before her. I didn't think good thoughts that my mother should read and I definitely did not resist the temptation that was in that box.
Inside was the glorious cake. Larger this time, yelling at me to indulge!
"Stephanie, do you want piece?" somebody asked. I can't tell you who it was - I was in a trance.
"Definitely!" There was no doubt I wanted more of it's goodness, despite the little angel on my shoulder whispering about the work I would have to do in the gym the next morning. There was a question of how big a piece I wanted. How big a piece? Ha!
"Why don't you just cut yourself a small piece and give me the box?" I was so greedy! And the cake was that good that I could have eaten the whole thing and never lived to regret it! Lori cut me a piece while laughing at the comment she must of thought was a joke, even though I was serious! It was the power of the cake!
Lori, that was not "a gift!"
In several swift moves, the square slab with it's delicious frosting was in my stomach. I felt peace - peace that lasted an hour until I had to have another piece. And I squeaked 'Oink'! Oh, the angel on my shoulder scolded me.
Yesterday morning, I paid my penance.
I woke up at 5:45 am, as usual. I brushed my teeth, combed out my hair, dressed warm for the cold weather. I was so sleepy. I really didn't want to go to the gym. Usually when I feel that way, I get motivated because I have the best workouts, but today, this morning, it was different. I felt like the cake had sucked out all my energy.
I was at the gym by 6:45 am. Lori was there, getting ready for work already. She was her normal chipper self, bobbing her red head around the locker room.
"We've still got some of that cake left, Stephanie!" She putting her make-up on in the mirror and I don't think she could see my reaction. I quickly put my eyes back in there socket before she looked up.
"Oh, Lori! Keep that away from me today! That cakes so good! I wish it was already gone!"
I put my gym bag up and walked out to the floor. Clint was already there and waiting. It was like the Fitness Nazi possessed him today.
"Circuit train?" he asked.
"Sure!" I said, ignorant.
He kicked my as for an hour. I'm not sure, I think we did 9 or 12 exercises in that hour. Weights, reps, all over exercises - ass-whoopin' as us Southerners put it. Despite the months of gym time I've spent with the Fitness Nazi, I was not in shape enough for Friday morning's workout.
I just remember sitting on the floor and thinking I see Jesus! No, I'm just dizzy...
When I got to work, barely able to move, I still had to deal with hearing about this cake. The cake that got my ass kicked. The cake that made me ache. The cake that had Tylenol for dessert. It wasn't just a small portion of the cake left either. It was a rather large slab in a large Tupperware bowl with aluminum foil on top. Everybody had a piece and raved about how good it was. I heard about it all day. Looked at it all day. I got so busy at work I didn't get to eat my lunch and in the meantime watched as my co-workers indulged in the sinful treat.
At 5:30, I couldn't take it anymore. There was only a small sliver left. I went to the small working fridge, took out the devil and said, "I'm taking my lunch!"
My boss, the Fitness Nazi - he knows that's his name - is the picture definition of "Gym Rat." He eats right, most of the time, stares at his muscles in the mirror more often than he'll admit, knows what every muscle does and knows every exercise and what it works. In short, he'll kick your ass in the gym. Just for fun, he's learn jiu-jitsu. He enjoys pushing his body to its limit more than the normal person.
We both have corporate gym memberships and take advantage of it. Since he goes in the morning and I go in the morning, naturally, we just work out together and work the same muscle groups. Usually, I can keep up. Usually, he pushes me further than I would push myself but I always feel competitive - I have to be able to prove to him that I can do what I or he thinks I can't. I always try! Also, we both try to eat right - or as close to right as possible. We're both at work 10-12 hours a day and work 6 days of the week. Sometimes pizza's just convenient.
So when we had our company Thanksgiving dinner Wednesday, we were both giving ourselves cheating rights. He can eat more than I can anyway. He doesn't have to lose weight like I do. We had all that delicious food...and cake.
Oh, the cake. The cake, with it's delicious whipped topping, it's chocolate flakes on top. It was so tall and so beautiful and so...tasty! It was the most moist cake you've ever tasted. More so than your own wedding cake, I guarantee. It stood two feet tall almost! The cake was already sliced and ready to go in my mouth. The individual servings were huge! Really big enough for two or three people!
I'd already filled my plate and eaten every last bit. The dinner - all the food - it was perfect! I wanted seconds. But I wanted the cake more. It beckoned me.
"Trey," I begged, "Please bring me a piece of that big chocolate cake! I have to try that!"
My husband, who always comes to our holiday dinners along with everybody elses spouse, gladly got up and brought me a piece. He grabbed him some other dessert that I can't remember because this cake trumped his!
The size of the piece on the small Styrofoam plate alarmed me. I asked a few people to share it with me because I jut knew I wouldn't have enough room.
I was very wrong!
I took a bite. It was over. I took another bite, and another. Before I knew it, the whole piece was in my stomach. I thought surely I'd regret it later. Clint knew I felt bad. I think he did, too.
"Clint, I'm going to have to do some serious cardio after this cake!" I declared.
"We'll do some circuit training in the gym on Friday," he mentioned between bites, "gets some cardio in to get all this food off of us!"
Later came, I had another piece! I actually, kind of, sort of, verbally compared it to the act of procreating without the risk of actually reproducing to one work associate or two, or all...sorry, Mum!
When the day was over, I was glad to be away from that evil, sinful food. I felt like I had ruined my day in the gym, even though I had allowed myself this cheat!
The following day, I hadn't planned on going to the gym. I actually had to do the radio show for the dealership and just got up early as usual and piddled around the house until it was time to advertise for Tuscaloosa Hyundai. I came to work knowing that our collision center was going to have its Thanksgiving dinner and that none of that food was coming to us. Thank, God! That's why I was flabbergasted when Lori came in with what she called "a gift." Of course I knew it was leftovers! I had to go see! Who can turn down free food?
I walked over to where she stood to see the white bakery box before her. I didn't think good thoughts that my mother should read and I definitely did not resist the temptation that was in that box.
Inside was the glorious cake. Larger this time, yelling at me to indulge!
"Stephanie, do you want piece?" somebody asked. I can't tell you who it was - I was in a trance.
"Definitely!" There was no doubt I wanted more of it's goodness, despite the little angel on my shoulder whispering about the work I would have to do in the gym the next morning. There was a question of how big a piece I wanted. How big a piece? Ha!
"Why don't you just cut yourself a small piece and give me the box?" I was so greedy! And the cake was that good that I could have eaten the whole thing and never lived to regret it! Lori cut me a piece while laughing at the comment she must of thought was a joke, even though I was serious! It was the power of the cake!
Lori, that was not "a gift!"
In several swift moves, the square slab with it's delicious frosting was in my stomach. I felt peace - peace that lasted an hour until I had to have another piece. And I squeaked 'Oink'! Oh, the angel on my shoulder scolded me.
Yesterday morning, I paid my penance.
I woke up at 5:45 am, as usual. I brushed my teeth, combed out my hair, dressed warm for the cold weather. I was so sleepy. I really didn't want to go to the gym. Usually when I feel that way, I get motivated because I have the best workouts, but today, this morning, it was different. I felt like the cake had sucked out all my energy.
I was at the gym by 6:45 am. Lori was there, getting ready for work already. She was her normal chipper self, bobbing her red head around the locker room.
"We've still got some of that cake left, Stephanie!" She putting her make-up on in the mirror and I don't think she could see my reaction. I quickly put my eyes back in there socket before she looked up.
"Oh, Lori! Keep that away from me today! That cakes so good! I wish it was already gone!"
I put my gym bag up and walked out to the floor. Clint was already there and waiting. It was like the Fitness Nazi possessed him today.
"Circuit train?" he asked.
"Sure!" I said, ignorant.
He kicked my as for an hour. I'm not sure, I think we did 9 or 12 exercises in that hour. Weights, reps, all over exercises - ass-whoopin' as us Southerners put it. Despite the months of gym time I've spent with the Fitness Nazi, I was not in shape enough for Friday morning's workout.
I just remember sitting on the floor and thinking I see Jesus! No, I'm just dizzy...
When I got to work, barely able to move, I still had to deal with hearing about this cake. The cake that got my ass kicked. The cake that made me ache. The cake that had Tylenol for dessert. It wasn't just a small portion of the cake left either. It was a rather large slab in a large Tupperware bowl with aluminum foil on top. Everybody had a piece and raved about how good it was. I heard about it all day. Looked at it all day. I got so busy at work I didn't get to eat my lunch and in the meantime watched as my co-workers indulged in the sinful treat.
At 5:30, I couldn't take it anymore. There was only a small sliver left. I went to the small working fridge, took out the devil and said, "I'm taking my lunch!"
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The day the Blackberry lived
When you move, several things get lost very easily. Take, for example, your favorite coffee mug that you didn't pack until the last second, that box with all your some of your office supplies you were sure you put in the car when you were loading or a favorite photo that you always displayed.
Speaking of photos, that reminds me that I haven't seen some of my favorite liquor signs that I always hang in my kitchen...and Trey's never really liked them, either...
In our case, now several items of mine our M.I.A. One of the most important, a phone charger to my Samsung A747. While I am addicted to text messaging and my phone, I do need my phone for several reasons: work, work numbers and messages that I have sent and received regarding work.
Saturday, when my charger was still at the house, I new I needed to make sure I put it in a special place - that special box that I would know exactly where it was at exactly the moment I needed to retrieve my phone charger. Sunday, I charge my phone for what would be the last time. I unplug my charger and place into a smaller, brown box and tuck the top of the box together instead of taping it. That way I would know for sure that it was my box with my phone charger. Trey, I must be disillusioned at the point after this move but this is what I was absolutely positive happened, picked up the important box and put it in his truck. That night, the box was left in his vehicle because we were completely exhausted at this point.
Monday, while my phone is losing some of the precious charge I got from Sunday, I can't seem to locate the box.
Tuesday, not a lot of charge left, the box is missing, and miraculously, a huge box full of yard sale items that was supposed to go with my in laws appears. Let me explain this, my in-laws don't like for us to throw away things. Something about, "You may want this later," "You may need this later," "Why would you want to throw away a perfectly good chord you might could use later," - I don't know but bottom line, they didn't want us to throw away/sell our unused items. Even though my rule of thumb is that if you haven't thought about it in over a year, it's gone, baby, gone.
When I found the box of yard sale items, I immediately thought, "It's a switch!" then I realized that was a little ridiculous and thought, "I bet Wayne and Judy took the wrong boxes - and I bet they have the box with my phone charger in it? But how? We put it in Trey's car?"
By this point, I had to find my phone! Granted, it's been a bit quiet at work and one day without those numbers would probably be OK, I couldn't go more than a couple. I need my numbers. If I could have synced them, I would have but you can't do that with this phone. It's not a Blackberry like my old phone, i.e. the love my life phone.
If you've known me two years, you've seen me with four phones. Maybe five. I change every six months due to some freak accident or other. I'm not staging my phones deaths, they really do get dropped on brick floors, stepped on and turn possessed. But if Trey or I upgrade and don't have a problem with the old phone, we keep it, because I might need it!
Trey upgraded his phone to the iPhone earlier this year, from his Blackberry (he copied me first), and I remembered seeing it when we moved. Now I was looking for two items: a charger or a Blackberry!
"Trey! Where's your Blackberry?"
"I threw it away."
Dammit! "Have you seen my phone charger?"
"No."
Grrr..
Wednesday. Phone is dead. Hope you didn't need me. That night, I had to find my charger. I had Trey looking in his truck again, I was opening all the boxes again; we looked everywhere! In opening up some of the boxes again, a miracle occurred.
"Trey, here's a box of some of your office stuff," I pointed to a small, brown box taped together at the top. I knew it didn't have my phone charger in it because it was taped. It was in the hallway.
When people help you move, no matter how many times you write on there "Office," "Kitchen," or "Bedroom," they still put the boxes wherever they want.
I placed the box in his office and for a shit and giggle, started sifting through the items to make sure I wasn't insane. After I got past a few pieces of paper and a few file folders, I found some chords. "No way," I started yanking on the chords hard to see if one had the little green arrow on the end. That's when I found the small Blackberry Trey used. I pushed the button on the front of the phone. It was one and still had a little bit of charge to it! Plus it was already connected to its phone charger!
I quickly plugged in the phone, moved my SIM card and checked my messages. It was such a relief to be connected again.
Then the old Blackberry addiction started to creep back up into me. I could feel all the possibilities organizing in my head. The buttons seemed too familiar. The programs just as fun as the first time I picked up the Blackberry. All the justification for not replacing my beloved Blackberry sooner was gone. Then I couldn't put the smooth weapon back down - even after Trey's gentle prodding.
It's official: I'm a Crackberry. Hello, my name is Stephanie and I'm addicted to my Blackberry.
What this means for you? More posting from my phone - as soon as I get to the AT&T store...
Speaking of photos, that reminds me that I haven't seen some of my favorite liquor signs that I always hang in my kitchen...and Trey's never really liked them, either...
In our case, now several items of mine our M.I.A. One of the most important, a phone charger to my Samsung A747. While I am addicted to text messaging and my phone, I do need my phone for several reasons: work, work numbers and messages that I have sent and received regarding work.
Saturday, when my charger was still at the house, I new I needed to make sure I put it in a special place - that special box that I would know exactly where it was at exactly the moment I needed to retrieve my phone charger. Sunday, I charge my phone for what would be the last time. I unplug my charger and place into a smaller, brown box and tuck the top of the box together instead of taping it. That way I would know for sure that it was my box with my phone charger. Trey, I must be disillusioned at the point after this move but this is what I was absolutely positive happened, picked up the important box and put it in his truck. That night, the box was left in his vehicle because we were completely exhausted at this point.
Monday, while my phone is losing some of the precious charge I got from Sunday, I can't seem to locate the box.
Tuesday, not a lot of charge left, the box is missing, and miraculously, a huge box full of yard sale items that was supposed to go with my in laws appears. Let me explain this, my in-laws don't like for us to throw away things. Something about, "You may want this later," "You may need this later," "Why would you want to throw away a perfectly good chord you might could use later," - I don't know but bottom line, they didn't want us to throw away/sell our unused items. Even though my rule of thumb is that if you haven't thought about it in over a year, it's gone, baby, gone.
When I found the box of yard sale items, I immediately thought, "It's a switch!" then I realized that was a little ridiculous and thought, "I bet Wayne and Judy took the wrong boxes - and I bet they have the box with my phone charger in it? But how? We put it in Trey's car?"
By this point, I had to find my phone! Granted, it's been a bit quiet at work and one day without those numbers would probably be OK, I couldn't go more than a couple. I need my numbers. If I could have synced them, I would have but you can't do that with this phone. It's not a Blackberry like my old phone, i.e. the love my life phone.
If you've known me two years, you've seen me with four phones. Maybe five. I change every six months due to some freak accident or other. I'm not staging my phones deaths, they really do get dropped on brick floors, stepped on and turn possessed. But if Trey or I upgrade and don't have a problem with the old phone, we keep it, because I might need it!
Trey upgraded his phone to the iPhone earlier this year, from his Blackberry (he copied me first), and I remembered seeing it when we moved. Now I was looking for two items: a charger or a Blackberry!
"Trey! Where's your Blackberry?"
"I threw it away."
Dammit! "Have you seen my phone charger?"
"No."
Grrr..
Wednesday. Phone is dead. Hope you didn't need me. That night, I had to find my charger. I had Trey looking in his truck again, I was opening all the boxes again; we looked everywhere! In opening up some of the boxes again, a miracle occurred.
"Trey, here's a box of some of your office stuff," I pointed to a small, brown box taped together at the top. I knew it didn't have my phone charger in it because it was taped. It was in the hallway.
When people help you move, no matter how many times you write on there "Office," "Kitchen," or "Bedroom," they still put the boxes wherever they want.
I placed the box in his office and for a shit and giggle, started sifting through the items to make sure I wasn't insane. After I got past a few pieces of paper and a few file folders, I found some chords. "No way," I started yanking on the chords hard to see if one had the little green arrow on the end. That's when I found the small Blackberry Trey used. I pushed the button on the front of the phone. It was one and still had a little bit of charge to it! Plus it was already connected to its phone charger!
I quickly plugged in the phone, moved my SIM card and checked my messages. It was such a relief to be connected again.
Then the old Blackberry addiction started to creep back up into me. I could feel all the possibilities organizing in my head. The buttons seemed too familiar. The programs just as fun as the first time I picked up the Blackberry. All the justification for not replacing my beloved Blackberry sooner was gone. Then I couldn't put the smooth weapon back down - even after Trey's gentle prodding.
It's official: I'm a Crackberry. Hello, my name is Stephanie and I'm addicted to my Blackberry.
What this means for you? More posting from my phone - as soon as I get to the AT&T store...
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