Stick Around for Joy

Don't get too excited. The picture above is my pipe dream - hopefully soon a reality. The before picture is the current state of our living room floor - filthy and stripped bare. The after picture is of our master bedroom floor, which was already refinished when we moved in a few years ago, but the model of what we hope the rest of the floors will look like when the job is finally completed.

Meanwhile my life is in chaos because my house is in a total fuckin' shambles. I want to move somewhere far, far away. To a place where all the rooms make sense. Where the kitchen is the kitchen and the living room doesn't echo and give me splinters.

What feels like an eternity has passed since my darling decided to rip out the nasty carpets in our house. It was a spur of the moment decision even though we have always planned to refinish the floors in our house. We just hadn't planned to start ripping up carpet that very second.

He is not typically a man of action. In fact most of the time he mainly stays very still, so I don't know what came over him. At the time (Labor Day weekend) because he was supposed to be simply shampooing the carpets, I was thoroughly prepared for a carpet cleaning project. We moved all of the furniture and breakable items out of the way and created a situation that I thought would be temporary, like for one day.

I left him alone with the shampoo-er machine for less than 5 minutes and returned to find him wild-eyed and grinning, on his hands and knees, looking up at me and barking proudly "Look at this! - These floors are perfect, why didn't we do this before??"

Because you need a plan crazyman.

To be honest, at first I was kind of excited to finally get the wheels in motion, but that was a few weeks ago and at this point I am tired of living like an animal. Meanwhile, the estimates have all come in, a deposit has been paid and the job has been scheduled - in another 4 weeks.

So I am writing to you now from a cramped space that I have carved out for myself in the office by moving several large piles of crap. I'm going to post some pictures tonight and reassure you that I haven't dropped off the face of the planet. It's just difficult to get in the post writing zone when I'm drowning underneath all of the crap piles.

Here is what used to be my kitchen, filled with all of the crap from what used to be the dining room and some of the crap that used to be the living room... and some other crap that I have just started piling on top of it because I have no fucking idea where to put it anymore...

Here is what used to be the entry way filled with more of some of the crap that used to be in the living room. We have to tilt the pizza boxes to get them through the door. What? You think I'm going to try to cook something in this shithole?

Here is some of the crap I had to move to get into the office, including the ever present shop vac... like those American Express ads, it's everywhere I want to be...

Here is one of the few rooms in the house I can stand to be in... our lovely empty dining room...

Post Interview Stress Syndrome: This Situation Calls for 740 Empty Calories

Of course they liked me. They always do. But you can only coast through life so far on charm and cuteness.

These people also expected me to have skills that were relevant to the position. They are looking for someone who is proficient in a couple of programming languages I'm merely vaguely familiar with. I parried that by telling them I make a mean lasagne, and although they were impressed, or maybe just hungry, it didn't seem to give me any advantage.

Speaking of hungry, in all my excitement and pre-interview preparations I forgot to eat today. So round about the time my hour of uncomfortable questioning and inane small talk was over I was lucky to have made it through the parking lot back to my car without passing out.

There was only one thing for it. A number three extra value meal, aka quarter cheese and fries. With a diet soda, of course. I'm not some kind of pig after all.

Anyhoo... Would you excuse me for a moment? I feel a stress relieving rant coming on.

HEY MCDONALD'S!

Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to see the complete nutrition information on your products? Huh? Did you?

Maybe I prefer binging and trying to create a state of denial, in which case it's way better not to know.

I realize that all of your food is crappy and bad for me. I do. That is why I don't visit your establishment for several months at a stretch. I save McDonald's for those special moments where I have come back from a very stressful job interview say, and realize that I haven't eaten anthing all day. Let's just say I'm suddenly starving and needing a huge junk food fix.

It's more of a rushed and guilty shame spiral kind of scenario than it is a caring about the foodstuffs I require nourish my body, which I sometimes willfully enjoy forgetting is a temple.

Do you see where this is leading? When I want to eat at your restaurant it is precisely because I want the opposite of healthy nutrients that will fuel my body and feed my soul. I eat there because momentarily I do not care that your cheap and salty delights are derived from corn products I can't pronounce and rat poison. I'm begging you with my $3.95 to give them to me. Give them to me now. Yeah, with a diet soda. Hurry.

I'm going to jam those golden salty fries into my mouth as fast as possible. Hopefully they'll be gone before I get home so that I can hide the evidence and pop in a breath mint in case my husband has decided to come home from work early. Yeah, I said guilt and shame motherfucker.

Maybe you should put the nutrition information next to the food on the drive thru menu so that I can make an informed decision before I order instead of putting it on the bottom of the box so that I don't see it until I turn it over to throw it in the trash - AFTER I'VE ALREADY EATEN IT. I just wanted a little guilt and shame not a fuckin' suicide attempt by cholesterol.

I said binge. Not purge.

In Response To Your Google Search Query #1

Just in case you thought I was done blogging for the day:

Dear Person Who Found My Blog Via The Search Query "how to make big fluffy croissants",

Quel Damage! But mercy buckets for visiting! I presume to take the meaning of your query in a non-sexual way and hope you weren't too disappointed to find this blog has nothing to do with baked goods or pastries and everything to do with my life's boring and often disgusting minutiae. I do have some good news for you, however!

No, I didn't just save a bundle on car insurance, but I actually DO know the secrets of how to make big fluffy croissants.

Here you go:
Don't over knead the dough and make sure that both the butter AND the dough are about the same temperature before you begin rolling. 65°F (23°C) is ideal. Now, if that doesn't work for you, you can try a little trick I learned several years ago in Paris that I like to call "go to the bakery and let a professional worry about such things darling because life is short".

Bon appétit et Bonne Chance!

Toodles!
The Lady

Hurray! I'm For The Other Team

Last night MDH called me into the den to watch a very amusing highlight of the Patriots game against the Washington Redskins. He was all worked up because it seems the Redskins were stupidly foiled by Mike Vrabel. I learned that Mr. Vrabel is not often brought in to participate in the games except for a certain play and that the Redskins were too stupid to recognize that historically without exception, whenever Mr. Vrabel is brought in for that particular play a touchdown is scored by the Patriots. This is exactly what occurred in the highlight that MDH played for me.

He had to explain all these things to me before I was able to comprehend. He added enthusiastically, "It's the equivalent of giving the ball to the Fridge on the one yard line!! You have to know exactly what is going to happen!", chuckling and shaking his head with bemused disbelief. He may as well said, "It's like putting the soup on your head with a ball point!!."

Sports talk means nothing to me.

I think he needs more man friends.

The poor man has had a sports boner all week because the Red Sox are in the World Series and it was super chubby yesterday because not only did we have the World Series going on but also a Patriots football game. We drove like speed was going out of style to get back to Michigan in order to be home in time to start recording sports.

My poor darling is stuck with me as his sidekick and I have never given two shits about sports of any kind. The fact that he hunted me down to have me share in the excitement of a football situation has me slightly worried that I may have led him on Saturday night when I watched the baseball game with him at Amy and Ted's house.

Maybe he was enjoying the game too much to notice that most of my comments were in the neighborhood of about how ugly the Rockies uniforms are (seriously they look like barbershop smocks) and how the one batter guy has a moustache that looks like a 1970's porn star bush. The main thing I came away with from watching the game was fabric marks carved into my face from the sofa cushion and a case of the giggles from the name Coco Crisp.

Here are some other observations:

• Manny Ramiriez seems quite full of himself. He performed some kind of grandstanding slide into home plate and then declared himself safe. I'm pretty sure that's not his job. He also has some kind of whacked out do rag that I swear to god I could smell from here.
  
  
• Until a few minutes ago I thought his name was Manny Rodriguez.
  


• The Rockies uniforms are bad as I have mentioned, and when Ted explained to me that their team colors were purplish blue and black, my response was, "You mean like a bruise?"
  


• The Rockies have no brown fans. Where are the brown people in Colorado? I know they have some but they didn't seem to be at the baseball game Saturday night. It was a sea of pasty white faces in that stadium, except for the one weirdo who was clearly confused and went to the WORLD SERIES WEARING A HALLOWEEN COSTUME. Did you see him? That guy dressed as the Green Giant? What a tool.
  


• The Red Sox fans always look either bored or angry. I know that they have been through a tough time for the past hundred years or whatever, but let's try to lighten up a bit. MDH is guilty of this too. Sometimes he won't even watch the games for fear his enthusiasm will jinx the team.
  
  
• Whoever is in charge of these events should probably have auditioned the musical acts who sing the national anthem. At least get these poor tone deaf yokels some kind of hearing device so that they can be sort of on key.
  
  
• Until about 3 weeks ago I thought the Colorado Rockies were just mountains.
  


• There is something about the nature of grand slams, touch down passes, corner kicks or otherwise amazing sports history making events that makes me urgently have to pee, get a drink or otherwise walk in front of the TV. I can't seem to stop myself and may change my name to Hey Lady Down Front.
  


• Joe Paterno should put a comb in his back pocket and run it through his hair sometimes. I realize that he is a football coach and this post has primarily been about baseball. I'm not quite that stupid. It's just that the boys were also watching the OSU/ Penn State game earlier in the evening and Mr. Paternos hair looked a fright. I figured I'd mention it while I was at it.
  
  
• Oh god the spitting. The spitting. If you are in the habit of spitting that frequently do you sometimes forget yourself and spit indoors too? I have never seen a female athlete spit so I'm not entirely sure it's necessary.

PS - here is the update on the job sitch - NA DA. MDH's interview in Cincinnati went well and he looked like a million bucks, but he was convinced he is too fat to work for this company and joked that the rejection letter probably beat us home yesterday. I am very gullable and believed him.

I've been out of town all weekend and am hoping to hear something today or tomorrow about my own career development. I'll keep you posted.

PPS - In your face Rockies.

If At First You Don't Succeed

It's safe to say that I've had a pretty weird summer. Jobless, in flux once again over our living arrangements (ie, MDH's job interviews in cities all over the country), and Jess's illness and eventual death pretty much all add up to a miserable season. To top it all off, the underlying theme to my summer has been the slow leak of my self worth. In all the job searching I've been doing all summer there haven't been any call backs.

It's weird not to be working and weirder still to not have a single bite from any employers. I'm fabulous, so surely there is something wrong with every HR department in this city if they can't see it. My cover letters are getting more and more bold and still nobody is noticing. I was talking with my friend Stephanie about this earlier in the week and the only conclusion we could come up with is that they are simply not being read. I've very seriously considered sending out a cover letter in all caps JUST TO SEE IF ANYONE WILL NOTICE ME!!!! Maybe I should just start outright lying and see if that works.

Dear Hiring Manager,

I am writing to let you know of my interest in the Perfect position you have posted on Monster.com.

My background is diverse and includes all of the skills and qualities you have listed in the posting. I have a great deal of experience working with and analyzing data, am an expert level user of most MS Office products including Excel and Access, and am also omniscient which comes in extremely handy for long and short term projects that require multi-tasking.

Most recently I have been working as a Software Trainer and Management Consultant in the veterinary industry. My outgoing personality, solid knowledge of small businesses, computers, and relational databases and the fact that I have the ability to know everything and be everywhere at once have been the key to my success in this position. I have a knack for problem solving, excellent communications skills and a magic cape that enables me to not only fly but also become invisible at will.

Your advertisement piqued my interest as my ideal career path will incorporate my unique combination of analytical skills, people skills and dark magic. In fact I could easily be described as an “outgoing analytic”. I hope, for your sake and for the sake of your children, when you read this along with my resume that you will be interested in talking to me in person about the opportunities you have available and how I can be an asset to your organization. Otherwise the angels will weep for you.
Thank you for your time and attention!
Sincerely,
Satan Herself