I am calling a Mulligan on:


This week



Most of next week

Yesterday was the most insane-a-balls day I have had in a long time.  I am going to just throw it all out there.  One short paragraph.

Go to work for three hour webex training.  My pod/desk has been moved all my shit is strown about and unhooked. WTF.  Hook everything back up.  School calls.  My youngest has a hermit crab bite and needs to go home.  WTF.  I reschedule Webex, I drive the HOUR to go to his school and he has an infected toe.  Which I found out later he did himself, no hermit crab assistance.  I take him to the doc just in case.  Then my oldest’s son school calls.  He needs to be picked up.  WTF.  Come to find out my youngest’s cold is worse than they thought breathing treatment, heavy antibiotic.  Go to get my other son, drop them off, go to fill Rx.  Get home, haven’t eaten all day.  My cat claws my upper thigh because she hasn’t eaten in 30 min.  TV bulb blows out.  Then I finally log back in and work for two hours.



Yep, that was me right around the cat-apuncture incident.

That was one long ass paragraph for me.  I hope I didn’t bore anyone.

Fuck yesterday.

Oh and fuck today, I now have a sore throat.  One week before my last day.  Two sick kids, and now I am getting it.

Sorry for all the Fucks, I would say I don’t give one, but I think I just passed out around ten.

I just re-read all this and I sound like a pissed off, drunk, angry sailor.  I normally strive to be more lady-like, worldly, and sophisticated, but fuck it.


As always,

Woman on Pause

Last photo credit:  http://global3.memecdn.com/wtf-ftw-meaning_o_297288.jpg

Turkey Hangover

Today is the Monday after Thanksgiving.  All is quiet around the cubes.  I think people aren’t quite ready to go back into work mode. 


They aren’t alone.


I know I should be working, I know I have a deadline, I know too that if I don’t get my typing out I am useless as an employee.  So there. 


You could really disregard that entire conversation and just chock it up to the fact I am a horrible procrastinator.  Kinda.  I procrastinate on things I don’t want to do.  I know, “Duh”  But no really.  Hear me out.  I am doing work I can not stand.  Well, can not stand  is harsh.  I am doing work I am damned tired of doing.  I have been crunching numbers now for upwards of 15 years and it bores the hell out of me.   

That being said, when something new comes up I get filled with little green men who all scream, “Ooooooooh something NEW!” but I feel this way when I get a new gadget too, so I am not sure if that is strictly accounting excitement. 


I don’t know what I want to do.  I know one thing.  I know I should know by now .  But I don’t.  This just makes me feel even more so that I am here in this cube, on the 10th floor of a building, procrastinating, because God wants me somewhere else.  Where that may be, well I just don’t know yet. 


I know I like to write.  I know that I give kick ass advice.  I know that I enjoy being creative.  All these things considered I also know I have a family to provide for and drawing and writing all day will land us at the Mission within 2 months.  Ha, who am I fooling? 2 weeks.


So, to procrastinate today I have done the following;

  • Searched the vastness of the internet. 
  • I have taken a cigarette break. 
  • I have eaten pretzels. 
  • And now I have blogged. 

(Note: I am sick of the words Blog, Blogged, and especially Blogger. I am currently working on something funnier and sexier than this word.  All I have is Wype, Wyped, Wyper, Wyping.  Web + Typing.  Stand by for further word mashes that don’t remind people of using the toilet.)

So that means by the time you read this.  I will be organizing papers and searching for millions of dollars of funds that are mixed about this place and that.  You like how I don’t even use my own professions terms?  That is how over it I am.  But then again if I started, “Profit and loss, beginning balance, supplier payable, vouchers, receivables, blah blah blah, I would go down to -4 viewers.  Very similar to my credit score.


My wish if I were to have one this Christmas, would be to find out what I want to do.  I am 33.  It is time.  If I am shunned once again by Santa, you will still have these whiney somewhat sarcastic word vomit blogs to feast upon.  So I suppose even if Santa’s fat ass can’t squeeze out one thing, one wish (God knows I was shunned by the Holly Hobby Tea set incident of 1984) you guys are stuck with me here. 


I’m ok with that for now.  Because with me and you, fake non-existent audience, we can procrastinate till Easter.   

Because that is a goal.



A Hat for all of your Thanksgiving Needs



Woman on Pause

aka- Not the woman in the weird turkey knitted hat.