10 pounds down 32 pounds to go!

Saturday, August 30, 2008

"I'm looking for something in a broadsword"

Despite my promise to fill in the blanks from the last two weeks I am first going to ask for your opinion on the bridal shower gift I just bought for Holly. Because I am a moron and I waited too long to choose a gift everything on her registry is gone with the exception of chip clips and seriously, I'm not buying chip clips for my best friend's wedding. I had wanted to get her something unique and I'm not a huge fan of registries anyway. If I didn't think she'd kill me for it I'd have gotten her some hideous antique deviled egg tray or an old fashioned guide to wifely duties. Alas, it's not that kind of bridal shower. So I chose these glasses, I picked four states that are meaningful to the couple (four because they're ridiculously expensive...as all great gifts are no?).

My sister was dubious when I told her about my choice on the phone...so...I need help. If you think this is a ridiculous and sad bridal shower gift please speak now or forever hold your peace. I don't want to screw up but then I don't want to get her a blender either, so if you had a house full of basics and a registry that is completely bought up before the invitations even go out please let me know what you'd think about this gift.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

I can only assume your boss finally flipped and you're slowly decomposing on some riverbank.

Hi Nick, loved the email. Gee, it has been awhile. It's not for lack of content. The things they have been happening. I just I can't seem to wrap my brain around any of them. There's nothing earth shattering going on, nothing is any worse than it was before. The big issue today is that I actually said the words "this is me resigning" to my boss. I didn't end up actually leaving because...I don't know why...I can't explain how I ended up staying. I'm clearly insane. This the second time I've grabbed my bag with the intention of leaving and we're officially on strike two of a three strikes and you're out purse grabbing scenario. He should now know that I don't need to be there and he needs to work a little harder not to be crazy. He also needs to work on remembering that he spoke to injured employee A and told her she'd be fine before he goes home and tells his wife all about the day and comes back to tell me all the things I did wrong because "how did you know she was unconscious when you took her to the ER?" is a seriously ridiculous question.

On subjects that don't make me want to throw things, Dietgirl asked me where in Scotland the family castle is. Heh, that was totally number two on my list but it's clearly going to be awhile because I've no idea where the family castle is. I tried to ask my Dad but he spent the whole time telling me about his informal book club (would you like 36 random books from strangers, ask me how!) and how when he was in England with the navy he lived off Hershey bars and how HE'S NEVER GOING BACK. He's a bit distracted in his retirement but I'm confident eventually he'll tell me, his brother stayed there a few years back and I guess I could just ask him but I've been busy stuffing one breast at a time into my bridesmaids dress. Hey, look what I did there...subtle. Remember the dress I freaked out and ordered because the first dress was a bit wee (shameless Scotsism)? Well, the new dress in a size larger is just as snug and the only way it fits is if I slip it over my head fully zippered and shimmy things in one at a time. The tailor is going to be super impressed and might possibly weep, I'll keep you updated.

I have more insanity to report but I hardly know where to start. My dearest dearie at work gave her notice two weeks ago and so tomorrow is her last day and I'm pretty sure strike three purse grabbing is very near in the future, like maybe tuesday after my dress fitting. I scheduled the appointment in the nearest possible slot because I feel a need to get on with the weddingness. The unfortunate thing is that I could chain myself to my pilates mat but I'm still not going to lose thirty pounds by tuesday at ten unless I chop off an arm. I'm going to buy some spanx and forget about it. I can't freak out about the wedding and everything else all at once so I'm going to make peace with the wedding and the fat and just be the best bridesmaid I can be at a size 12. C'est la vie. Now I have to go eat chocolate and write a resume and on the next installment of how amy's life turns I'll tell you all about how I think I was drunk last week for the very first time! Yay!

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Tastes like George Washington

Holly, bless her, got my name off the 45 dollar wedding make-up list. So of course I just spent 30 bucks on Rimmel at Target. Excellent. It wasn't all Rimmel, I'm rather partial to the Neutrogena products too. They're one of the few companies that has shades fair enough for me to wear, you know which one works...translucent. I've always joked that I'm so white I'm clear and look, proof. It is rather beautiful stuff. I feel 30 dollars more beautiful, I really do. I have to get my money's worth to make up for harassing a bride two months before her wedding. I'd hate to think I tortured her for nothing, that would be wrong.

In baking milestones, I made my first trifle today. It was terribly american but very tasty according to the South African parents of one of Matt's co-workers. Brownies and jello pudding and cool whip, yep...I'd have to agree with the american bit. I tried to make the world's best brownies but like a damn fool who doesn't learn I didn't use the only cupcake liners that work with those brownies...in my eternal optimism I buttered the cups and you know what...THAT DOESN'T WORK. So, the brownies looked like crap and lo they became the base of a trifle. Dessert ingenuity if I don't say so myself. Matt saved a few to make ice cream sundaes with. I sort of love it when he's selfish with my baking. If I did run a bakery out of the house I'd have to change the locks, he might not let me sell anything.

Speaking of South Africans and lifelong dreams and such, some cutie in Australia tagged me for a meme. An eight things to do before you die meme. Which I thought was really cool, three days ago when I tried to write the post. Damn is it hard. I thought it would be difficult to narrow down to 8 but I'm finding it difficult to pick 8 things worthy enough to be on the list. Open a bakery. One. See my family's castle in Scotland, two. Design and plant a perfect landscape for the house when we build it, three. Land a job that's as good for me as I thought this one was, four. Read every single one of the books my dad hands down to me, five. Throw a party and have all of my friends stay at the new house, six. Take a road trip to California and back, seven. Learn to appreciate how lucky I am, eight. That was effing hard. I had no idea.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

"what you eat reflects in your skin"

Yesterday morning I was driving to work and I had this wonderful fantasy about not stopping at the shop. I'd just keep driving and call Matt from wherever I ended up. That would have been awesome. Yesterday did have some high points though, I got the second in my series of "oh my god Holly's getting married" facials. This one was different than the first, more about dirt in my pores than relaxing and pampering. The part of me that's all business was happy and she said she had some very successful extractions. How dirty is your face when the facialist is cooing over the dirt that's coming out? Very, it needed to be done. She had lots of good hints too about being kind to your eyes and applying all lotions in an upward direction because gravity does all the down you can handle. Very astute I thought, I've always applied sunscreen and creams moving down my face, whoops. I expect to look 17 tomorrow since I totally applied my moisturizer in an upward direction today. I'll keep you posted.

I still have so much to do for wedding prep and none of it is sit-ups and it should be. I need to get my shoes dyed and find some jewelry and what am I going to do with my hair? The wedding is at 10 am so apparently we're all on hair and make-up duty starting at the crack of dawn. If I show up with no ideas the morning of either the bride or the stylist will kill me and it won't be pretty. I really want just natural curls and make-up but it seems insane to pay $110.00 and look exactly the same as I do every other day. I should probably go Tammy Faye Bakker to get my money's worth. The bride will LOVE that.

I bumped into an old colleague on an errand today and she asked about work. I told her the truth, which I never do when people ask about my job. She asked if I was looking and I said yes and it was sort of great to tell the truth about this place. Reading that sentence makes me feel like I'm talking about a prison or Hitler's Third Reich when it's really just a well-paying white collar job for a boss that happens to be insane. I think I was pretty honest about working at the bank, I knew it wasn't where I was supposed to be but it was a choice I made and it sort of paid the bills and I didn't have to work very hard. This is very much the same with a better pay scale and if he didn't keep asking me to do illegal things it would be almost even. Customers at the bank always treated me like a moron and now it's my boss.

Sometimes when I reflect on how I feel about work I think I'm over-reacting, it's like I'm complaining that the sky isn't blue enough. Then I think about my mom and what she would say about how this man treats people, me being one of them and I know if she were alive I wouldn't be working here. She wouldn't stand for it and I shouldn't either. 'Course she didn't need the paycheck.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Cranky (in which I whine a lot)

Dudes, I'm at work and I'm a ball of crank. If you looked up cranky in the dictionary it would totally say "there should be a picture of amy here but she was too cranky". I have a lot to do and I don't want to do any of it. They're all horrible things. I'm supposed to call the chicken place and convince them that we don't really need to meet the 400 dollar minimum order and can you please send us chickens. Did I tell my boss about the chicken dillemma Friday? I did. And about the $400 minimum? Yup. Did I leave him a very specific note to CALL ME BEFORE MONDAY if he wanted chickens? I did. But to no avail. He didn't call me because he didn't want to bother me (heh) so now I have to pull 50 chickens out of my ass which is so much more convenient, THANK YOU.

And also the other computer isn't here because on Friday you agreed to have it fixed. It's at the fixing place. Why are you asking me who's fixing it and where they are and if they're any good and did we drive that far NOW? Why didn't you ask me FRIDAY? You know, when I said it's time to get professional help (heh) and you said "OK, who do we call?" and I said the Mac guy and you said "ok". Remember that? No, well, obviously. You say you don't want to be hassled about the details and that you want people to just get the job done, well, that involves not telling you every detail about the fixing of a computer that you can't even turn on, 'kay? Also it's not my fault that envelope came back, I am not the post office...and you're grilling me about a STAMP after what happened Friday...NOT OK.

Amazingly I don't want to eat an antelope. I sort of do want a nap though. I want to sleep all the time though, A. because of the rain and B. things are crappy. The weather has been INSANE lately. Matt and I worried about drought for about ten minutes and then it started raining every damn day. I do my laundry with reckless abandon now and that's the most I have to look forward to. I did so well with not being really involved at work, it worked for a long time...5 months if I don't count the super shit-tastic first month. I don't know that I'm necessarily more emotionally attached, I'm just finding it more difficult to do the ridiculous things I'm asked to do. Maybe it's knowing that I could not be paid for doing those ridiculous things that makes me feel how terrible things are here. I'm the person that people are going to complain to when payroll doesn't go through, I'm the person who people threaten to punch when their suppliers don't get paid (oooh, Matt really liked that when I told him about it), I am the conduit to the boss and I really, really don't like it. I do not want people thinking that his insane decisions are mine, that all the mean spirited and cold things I'm asked to do are of my choosing, or god forbid that I actually LIKE him.

I always told myself I'd leave when I couldn't take it anymore "The money is good, just stay until you have to leave or something better comes around". How do you know when it's so bad you have to leave or is the fact that we aren't making payroll at the height of the season reason enough to pull the plug. The worst is what will I tell my father if I quit a job for no real reason except that it drives me crazy. He will laugh, and then he will dis-own me because work is supposed to be hard and you're not supposed to like it and tough luck. Although he might agree when he hears about the finances.

And apprapos of nothing I made some truly awful oatmeal raisin cookies this weekend, they were heinous. The recipe was so bad it should be burned out of the book. Mark Bittman How to Cook Everything I'm looking at you!

Friday, August 08, 2008

"Three weeks ago Tuesday we had summer."

I'm having the world's best cup of earl grey tea right now that almost makes up for the fact that yesterday I almost killed my boss. One of my duties as HR Manager is to talk everyone else down when they get to that point but often there is no one there to talk me down so I fester and then I explode and I end up poking the boyfriend awake at 3am because I CAN'T SLEEP! So far this morning I have sent two resumes and two inquiries and I'm feeling a bit desperate. It seems that I can't take it anymore. It's been a game for me for a while that I can take this job as long as I don't take it home, it's just a job. As long as I can remember that he's the boss and every dumb thing he does leads to his own destruction and maybe I can't catch the deluge in a paper cup and I should stop trying.

For almost six months now I've typed his ridiculous take my ball and go home letters, I've listened to him yell at people for hours only to have no resolution to any problem, and I've watched the messages from collection agencies pile up. The latter is the biggest problem and what really drove me up the wall yesterday. This week we very nearly almost didn't have enough money for payroll. Don't you think that if your company very nearly almost didn't have enough money for payroll you wouldn't stand around supervising people into getting 5 hours of overtime for absolutely no reason. When I approached him about it he yelled at the crew for working into overtime. Dude, you're the owner and the boss and their supervisor and if you think the Jamaican crew you're hollering at is going to volunteer that they're working into overtime you need a brain replacement. Dudes are here to work and if you're damn fool enough to work them into overtime on a non-urgent and also non-lucrative project it's very much your fault.

I've decided that I don't want to call that widower and tell him that we never sent him an estimate because the boss didn't think he had any money and sorry about that $100 deposit because you're not getting it back. I'm also not going to call that 100 year old lady in Milbridge to tell her she has to cough up 200 bucks to find out if we can replace her trees after her file was lost for almost a year. I'm not going to tell that employee that they're not allowed to file worker's comp because the boss thinks they're too fat and that's why they got injured. Nope, not going to do it. I hear they're hiring over at the McDonalds, that could work out.

Friday, August 01, 2008

"Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes."

When I thought I was wearing that bridesmaid dress that I'm totally not wearing anymore unless the other one doesn't show up in time in which case I'll have to have my jaw wired shut to fit in it I thought I needed a new bra. You know, a dress bra. A bra that would make my DD's more like an A cup. A whale bone and titanium contraption that bends reality and mixes a really great martini. I really thought if I looked hard enough and opened my wallet wide enough I would find something that would make that dress (bigger) fit. I came to my senses and ordered another dress but not before I spent 100 dollars on new bras.

I'm blaming it on the sales girl. She was fucking amazing. If she was selling used cars off a dirt lot I'd have bought 6, heroine...I'd be a junkie, she was that good. I was only there to browse and she mesmerized me into a fitting room. She measured, chattered, and then brought me the biggest box of brassieres I've ever seen. She really had me convinced that she'd pull out nunchucks or similar if I didn't try them ALL on...so I did and ended up finding the most perfect bra ever. Really, it's the very best in breast technology, it's so perfect it practically hovers in the drawer. So I bought three. In the lexicon of things you buy in bulk when you find perfection...bras are pretty high. Bras, jeans, hair care products that stupid John Frieda discontinues, very important things one could live without but one would inevitably weep all the time.

I'm becoming such a girl in my old age, I bought cuticle cream yesterday. Cuticle cream, is there a less practical thing to spend money on? And tomorrow I schedule my next facial. Mostly these are wedding preparations but I'd be lying if I said I didn't sort of love it. It's so incredibly self indulgent to spend time and money on this sort of thing, it's awesome. I wish I'd discovered it earlier.