Category Archives: Complaining

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The Dirt of Accomplishment

Yesterday I woke up feeling cranky. I’m not sure why, but for whatever reason it cascaded down into every aspect of my day. First I tried on 16 different shirts wondering how it is possible to have that much back fat. Where the hell does it come from? I mean, when girls are younger we worry about gaining weight, but nobody warns us it might show up on our back. Ick. Needless to say this made me even grumpier. To add to that, all my clothes seemed dirty, wrinkled, or missing due to the fact I’m living out of a suitcase (or exploded suitcase) at my sister’s place. I finally decided on a sweatshirt and proceeded to put socks on only to discover a hole in the toe of one sock. “Jesus Christ, throw me a bone!” I yelled. Well, God didn’t like that apparently.

As I’m driving to work, with Christina Aguilera blasting in my speakers, I realize there is some foreign noise happening with my brand new car. I turn off the stereo and decide, I must have a f*#@&ing flat tire. Strangely though it wasn’t pulling me one way or another, just making an inordinate amount of noise. I pull over and park, note the flat tire and think, “How can this be my day? Was my life going so well that it’s just time for me to have a domino of shit happen?” And of course, being that I have the worst car Karma, the tire didn’t get flat until the end of my two weeks home, leaving me only a day to deal with this.

I proceed to walk to work, but feel I have a bit of comfort in the fact I had thought to bring my IPOD and earphones with me. I start walking, put my headphones on, and hit play on my IPOD. Nothing. The menu doesn’t light up. Nothing. So even though I had fully charged my IPOD, what I’m assuming happened is that when I put it on Hold, I must have had it running or something and now it’s dead. Well, Goddammit.

When I get to work I start debating over how I’m going to deal with this tire. You see, for one, it’s a new car and I have yet to even look for the spare and jack. And two, my trunk is filled with junk from my move, including a big dirty dolly that Scott had borrowed to move his stuff. I have AAA and I know where Les Schwab is, but I just couldn’t wrap my mind around how I was going to go about this. I was starving and I didn’t have my AAA card on me (because it would be too practical to actually keep that in my car or on my person). To add more misery to my day, I discover the sweatshirt I have chosen to wear smells terribly. Leaving me no choice but to strip down to my tank top (which everyone knows I hate to do in public).

Here is where things start to shift in my head. Rebecca from work tells me she’ll drive me up to my car if I like and help me with whatever I need to do. I decide what I need is food and then to empty my trunk. I could 1) have AAA change the flat, or 2) change the flat myself, or 3) instead of emptying out the trunk I could just have AAA tow it to Les Schwab. I can’t believe I even debated over all this. Once I got food everything changed.

Rebecca took me to my car, we were down to our butch tank tops and ready to go, so we started moving all the shit out of my trunk into my back seat. I put the dolly on the sidewalk, stuffed my face with few more bitefuls of Cashew Chicken and then we went to work changing the tire ourselves. Rebecca was mostly there for moral support, but it helped a lot. The sun was hot, the asphalt was hot, and the tire was cooperative. It was easy as pie. As I was driving to Les Schwab I thought to myself how funny the day had been.

Basically, here is where my point comes in. Prepare yourself for uncharacteristically reflective crap. Some of you know I’m planning a big road trip for when this job is done. Well, once I had eaten, changed the tire, and was well on my way to a better day (since Les Schwab doesn’t charge for fixing flats) I realized something sort of funny. Perhaps God thought, “How dare you think that the fact you have back fat and holes in your socks means you have it bad. How dare you actually bitch about your day when you are heading into work close to 10am and you probably aren’t going to stay very long. How dare you ask Jesus Christ to throw you a bone.” Okay, so maybe he isn’t that vengeful, so then I thought, “My god, if this hadn’t happened I never would have even considered what would happen if I got a flat in the middle of nowhere on my road trip.” Now I am thinking, maybe I shouldn’t bring much with me, I should keep my trunk easily accessible, and maybe I should consider getting a real spare tire instead of the flimsy ones that you can’t go very far or very fast on.

In the end, the stars had aligned to warn me that I have a lot more to think about than just whether or not I can carry mace on this trip. Not to mention how much I love being self-sufficient and capable. Changing that tire was another rush for me. I’ve done it before, but it’s always nice to know you don’t have to rely on anyone for anything.

One last note, and I think this is sort of funny since I was planning on blogging about this anyway before I even read Gretchen’s blog. When I was sitting reading my book in Les Schwab, I looked at my hands and noticed they were covered in dirt and blood (apparently I had cut myself during the tire swapping incident, presumably on gravel). I kept staring at my hands while I was flipping pages in my book, signing for my car, being handed back my keys. Despite the fact there was a bathroom in the waiting room, I didn’t wash my hands. There was something comforting about the dirt. Maybe it was the fact it represented accomplishment to me. Maybe it was a reminder of how the day had taken a turn from a miserable morning to an enlightened afternoon. Or simply maybe it was pride in having all these men caked in oil see that I had changed my own tire today before bringing in the flat. I know changing the tire was easy, but there was still a part of me that felt better about myself when I looked around at the other women sitting in the waiting room who had obviously had their cars towed in or had someone else change their tire. I was the only one who showed up with the flat in her trunk.

So I enjoyed the dirt of accomplishment for a good two hours before finally washing away the day’s events.

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Cater Waiters Take the Floor!

Alright. I have never had to hire caterers before and I suddenly have a new respect and appreciation for people who work in a capacity where they have to plan all sorts of events.

Things you have to think about:

1) What does everyone want to eat? Hors D’oeuvres? A real meal? Desserts?
2) And if there are beverages, what kind? Coffee, Tea, Soda, Juice?
3) We of course would want alcohol but do we go with a Cash Bar which requires a $400 minmum? Do we buy our own alcohol and just pay for a bartender? Do we just forget about the food and get a full bar?
4) What is my budget really? $1000? $1500 or is it really only $800?
6) Miss, would you like our rental pricing? Huh? For Linens and such? Oh.
7) And what about flatware, glassware, &$@*ware? Disposable?
8) How long will the event run? How much will we have to pay the servers even though I asked for buffet style?
5) And lastly, what is the cursing etiquette when you hear snickering on the other line from the owner who can’t believe you just suggested they cater your event in two weeks for a measly $800?

I have somehow volunteered myself to plan an event for work and our budget is tight (if unknown) and I had no idea going into this that caterers had all sorts of fees. I’ve been hoping to meet with my manager’s manager all day, but since she is a few steps up, she is inundated with meetings. So here I sit, dizzy with sticker shock now that all the proposals and bids have come in from all the companies I called, and I’m waiting to find out the inevitable. We just can’t afford it.

Which means I get to break the news to everyone that we may just have a potluck. But hey! At least that means more booze. And isn’t that what this is all about…really?

Is that my phone? Yes. Here I go. Manager awaits.

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Birth Control Isn’t Covered

I wanted make a note in response to Johnny Peel’s latest Blog. He was complaining about having to pay $50 for Amy’s birth control. He wondered why, if he paid so much for insurance, did he have to pay for birth control. I guess the guys haven’t been clued in. As long as I’ve known things to work, birth control has NEVER been covered, but viagra is. Go figure. Just what we need. More procreation. Freakin’ freaky freaks.

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Commercials piss me off

Boise, Idaho is not so bad a place. That’s where I am now, but I’m not supposed to be. Long story, but what a crazy day. Heading back to Baker City, Oregon on Sunday just in time to see the Superbowl with Brenda and Erin from work. For now though, I’m just looking forward to breakfast at this great little place in downtown Boise called Goldy’s. It’s the kind of place where you want to sit at the counter and chat with the wait staff while you eat grits and sweet potato hashbrowns. Mmmm…. Even that will top the amazing BBQ we had at Goodwood the other night. God I love food.

In the spirit of Johnny Peel, I have some random thoughts I figured I’d just throw in here.

While here I’ve noticed a new commercial on TV that is driving me crazy. Aladdin Bail Bonds. They try to make it look all classy and caring. A presentable wife getting a phone call from her husband in jail, she goes to Aladdin Bail Bonds in the middle of the night, where she is greeted by a beautiful business woman who tells her, “take a deep breath, we’re here to help you.” And the silly woman does take a deep breath, on cue. Now I don’t know about the rest of you, but I watch TLC fairly religiously and I’ve seen the special about the guys who chase down people who owe on bail bonds and that whole world is anything but businesslike and classy. Who are they fooling? This is now right up there with my other favorite “bad” commercial back in college where the girl opens her freezer and the narrator says “Are you having financial problems?” I never understood why they directed it that way. It’s not like her freezer was empty and she was poor. It was an average freezer with and average amount of food. But after that commercial, my roommate and I used to say that quote every time we opened the freezer at home. Was that my old roommate Joey or was that Dawnelle? I can never remember anymore. I know Joey was the one who ate baby food and Dawnelle ate Bologna, but the rest is a blur. Oh god, that Bologna.

I’m in the middle of watching “Death to Smoochy” and so far I feel it’s been overlooked. I’m a huge Edward Norton fan, I think Catherine Keener is deadly, and Robin Williams has all my respect, so why didn’t I think to watch this sooner. We’ll see if I still like it when I finish watching it. There is a point where Edward Norton compares Captain Kangaroo to Jesus Christ which of course reminds me of my early childhood obsession with the man. Not Jesus, but the Captain. I wore that record out.

Speaking of Edward Norton, I watched “25th Hour” and really dug most of it. But he didn’t wear any eyeliner in that one. Just in “Death to Smoochy,” so if you’re looking for some fun crazy Norton, go with Smoochy. If you looking for serious, hardcore, sexy Norton, go with “25th Hour.”