Merry Christmas!

To All My 7 Followers,

Merry Christmas to you and your families!

To any of you who don't celebrate Christmas - Happy Holiday Season!

Love,
Erin <3
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My Mini Rant (I Swear A Lot)

I have to get this shit off my chest or it's very fucking likely my head will explode.  

#1 - Males across the nation - PULL UP YOUR DAMN PANTS!!!!  No self respecting dude needs to be showing his skives to all the ladies.  Especially then the ladies are in their 30's (or older) and the males are teens.  That does not make us feel like a cougar it makes us feel like a felon.  Get a fucking belt and pull your shit up!  

Unfortunately this is not confined to the males of our species; however with the females of our species the problem is that their shorts or short skirt does not go down far enough.  Bitches need to learn to cover their pooter.  Especially if you are a teenager in my house!!  (Not my girls, their friends - although I'm not an idiot.  When my kids leave the house its a guessing game as to what they change into.  See this post here for clarification.)  More than once my girl's friends have come downstairs in the morning after a sleepover and M has had an overwhelming desire to bleach his eyes.  COVER YOUR SHIT UP!!  Again, this does not make him feel manly, it makes him feel like he should be in jail. 

#2 - Twi-Hards?  Whatever the Twilight fanatics are calling themselves, I get your obsession with the movies.  I do.  The books were fantastic, but I recognize them for what they are - Fiction.  Fantasy.  NOT REAL.  In 10 fucking years there will be a different craze and you'll have to explain why you have this on your chest:  

(Source)

Or a portrait of someone, who is not you nor any relation to you, on your calf.  Eventually, no one is going to know who they even are.  Remember cute little Brian Bonsall?  Yeah,  neither does anyone else.

*Brian Bonsall played little brother, Andy Keaton, on Family Ties.  And yes, I'm aware Family Ties was a sitcom and the Twilight movies are so much bigger than Family Ties ever was, but I'm trying to make a point here so suck off...

(Source)

Are you for real?!  You had to have been beaten with the stupid stick as a child for you are a fucking tool.

#3 - Mailmen.  I can appreciate the difficulty you have this time of the year with all the packages, and the Holiday cards, and the rush rush rush, but DO YOUR FUCKING JOB.  I don't expect other people to do my job; the one I'm paid to do.  Why am I expected to do yours?!  Take a damn moment to read the address on the packet of mail you're depositing into my office mailbox and if it's not my address - DON'T DEPOSIT IT!  Walk your happy fucking holiday ass across the street and give them their mail!  

I have a doorbell attached to the door frame for a reason.  Use it.  If you try to open the door and it's locked, press your little finger to the bell.  No matter where I am in the building I can, and I will, be at that door in less than a minute.  When you see me coming to unlock the door it's not a fucking race to see if you can get the mail into the mailbox slot before I get the door unlocked.  You don't win a prize for that shit.  Instead you get my boss wanting to shove a metal rod straight through your skull because that mailbox is a BITCH to open!  

But in reality, Mr. Lazy-As-Fuck-Mailman, you win this round.  Because who can I complain to that you're a complete douche canoe?  I could complain to the Postmaster but the balance of power is in your hands.  If I complain, you get shitty that I called you out, and I don't get any mail for days or it's all "lost".  My suppliers, the utility company, and the car financing companies don't care if I didn't get my bills in time to pay them.  They still want their money.  

A tip of my hat to you, Mailman.  You're a fucking Asshat.

Wake The Fuck Up!

I’m angry today.  I’m balls angry today.  It started with a text on Sunday night and has continued right on into today.  Every time I think about it I want to punch someone in the throat.  I want to punch a specific someone in the throat.  And claw his eyes out.  And strangle him.  Then I want to cry with him.  With her.  With them both.

Most stories make sense if you begin at the beginning so let’s go…

Pri is one of my best friends.  Yes, there are times she has irritated me but I’m sure there are times I’ve irritated her as well so it’s a wash.  You can’t be friends with someone for 13 years and not have moments when you don’t want to be around them, but that’s neither here nor there.

Several years ago Pri found out that Dan (her husband) was doing drugs.  Getting into hardcore drugs and stealing money to fund his drug habit.  They lost their house because of his antics.  She left him, briefly, but he got his shit together and got clean, and they got back together.  Fast forward several years, four houses, two more kids and a move to Florida…

Pri asked me a little bit ago to write a letter for her so she could take it to her Kabala teacher.  The letter needed to be about how I viewed Pri as a person.  She told me to lay it all out there – the good, the bad, the ugly.  The purpose of this exercise, I think, was for her to see how others view her so she could work on becoming a better person?  I’m not 100% sure, but I wrote the letter.  In the letter I said that I wish she’d see Dan as her partner in this journey of life and not her adversary.  For as long as I’ve known them they fight like cats and dogs, but always kiss and make up.  It’s not one sided, these fights.  He gives as much as she does and they both take, but that woman can hold a grudge like no one’s business!

When I sent it to her she called me bawling.  She told me the reason they’re doing the Kabala is an attempt to get Dan back on track.  Apparently he’s up to his old tricks and this time has progressed to shooting up whatever his drug of choice is.  I sympathized with her and told her that I’m here for her if she needs me.  Since I’m in Chicago and she’s in FL a physical “there for her” is a little difficult and that’s what scares me.

She sent me a text on Saturday night, which I didn’t get until Sunday morning, of a needle/syringe she found in their house, with the question “What do I do now?! L”  My immediate reaction was to tell her to kick his ass!  Instead I told her that if it were me, I’d tell him to get his shit and get out.  Go find a rehab and don’t come back until he’s clean for good.

She and I went back and forth with our text messages all day.  She was in bed all day crying because she can’t believe he’s doing this to her again, she’s all by herself in FL with no support, he has nowhere to go if she kicks him out because he hasn’t made any friends, how would she take care of the little kids (two girls – B who’s 5 and I who’s 3) because Dan is a stay at home dad, and that Z (her 13 year old son) is mad at her for wanting his dad to leave. 

Sunday night I get a text from her saying “the bastard won’t leave until after Christmas so I’m going to go to my friend’s house after work on Monday and stay there until Christmas.  I’ll make sure to call the kids every day so they know I love them.”

WTF?  You’re going to voluntarily leave your children all day and all night with a man you KNOW is doing drugs?!?  Hell no.

After a long conversation with her about the ramifications of her leaving her kids with him she’s decided that she’s going to play the game he’s been playing – the let’s-ignore-the-problem-and-act-like-nothing’s-wrong game – until Christmas Day.  She says that the day after Christmas she’ll tell him to go and if he won’t do it on his own she’ll call the cops to make him leave.

I’m so angry because she isn’t doing what she needs to do to make sure her children are safe.  He’s a grown ass adult who has made the decision to do drugs.  They are children who don’t have that ability and look to her to keep them safe.  By allowing Dan to remain in the house with his drug habit unchecked she’s putting those kids in danger. 

I’m angry because he knows that by being persistent in telling Pri that he has nowhere to go, he’s going to wear her down by tugging on her heart strings.  Eventually she’ll feel badly for him (more than she already does) and she’ll agree that he can manage this on his own. 

I’m angry because these two adults are putting their own selfish needs and wants in front of the needs and wants of their kids.  Dan doesn’t want to admit he has a problem so he’s going to refuse to go to treatment no matter when Pri asks him to.  He’s not thinking about the damage he’s doing to his kids by forcing them to live with a drug addict.  And I don’t care how much he thinks he’s hiding it from them, kids see a fuck ton more than you ever think they do.  Pri doesn’t want to be alone so far from family and is ashamed to admit to anyone that she needs help so she’s going to allow Dan to manipulate her until this whole situation blows up in her face.

Neither one of them are thinking about what happens when B goes to her Kindergarten class and tells her classmates about her weekend of seeing Mommy and Daddy fighting because Daddy has needles in the house.  If Social Services gets involved not only is Dan going to be in trouble, but I’m pretty fucking sure Pri will be too.

So I’m angry today.  I’m extremely angry with both of my friends.  I want Pri to grow a pair and make her home safe for the kids and I want Dan to wake the fuck up and see what he’s doing to his family.

Mail Order!

Apparently Brookstone wants a piece of the poo-nanny pleasing, mail order action.  My boss gets this magazine once or twice a month.  He just has me throw it away (he bought something from it one time so he’s on their mailing list now), so I browse through it before tossing it.  What I’ve seen in the last few magazines makes me laugh a little bit:

That’s not a “massager with remote control” people.  That’s a Bullet, Bitches!

Well, Brookstone, you got these right.  These sure are “Personal Massagers”; of the intimate kind.

This next one cracks my shit up:

It’s a “Zero Gravity Massage Chair” but to me it looks like a sexual harassment case in the making.

Maybe I just have a dirty mind, but I think Brookstone wants in on that particular Multi-billion dollar industry…

Manners, People!

I’m seriously about to stab someone in the throat.  What is with these grown men I work with?  I think they’ve all been raised in a barn!  We’ve got Ron.  Ron clears his fucking throat to get my attention because apparently I don’t have a name.  Ron also blows his nose into his handkerchief then puts the thing back into his pocket and doesn’t wash his hands.  (I’m not 100% sure his handkerchiefs are even clean to start out with.)  This action usually precedes him putting his fingers into whatever candy/food we’ve got on the table for general office consumption.  Ron also likes to stand around the front office chewing.  Loudly and with his mouth open. 

Then we’ve got Bill.  Bill is our sales guy.  I see the need for our company to have a Sales department, I do, but I don’t see Bill being the person qualified for this position.  He has sales experience, but has no experience in the glass industry.  His qualifications, or lack of, are a different subject.  Bill is also rude.  He will ask a question and while you’re in the middle of answering him he’ll ask another question.  (Ron does this too, by the way.)  Bill likes to announce his presence with a very loud voice and a grand entrance. 

Case in point – I was on the phone with a customer when Bill arrived today.  He announced his arrival by entering the office “with authority” meaning he opened the door so forcefully it banged against the wall next to it.  It’s a metal door so imagine the noise that made.  He also accompanied his authoritative entrance with a very loud “GOOD MORNING AND HOW ARE YOU TODAY?”  Hello!  Asshat!  I’m on the damn phone with a customer!  Shut your fucking trap! 

Apparently my asking the person on the other end of my phone to repeat himself was some sort of code to Bill to ask me another mundane question – loudly - and talk to himself while setting up his computer crap at the table in my office.  When normal people talk to themselves its at a rather low pitch and generally difficult to hear.  Not Bill.  His quiet voice is a regular outside voice.

On top of this he interrupts me later to find out where he can find a specific type of wine for his kids.  Not even asking me if I’m busy; he simply told me to do so.  Fine.  Whatever.  He’s the boss’ friend from their church so I have to make nice with him.  Lucky for me he’s not in the office very much so I don’t have to deal with him too often, but while I’m on the computer searching for his wine he comes behind me to watch over my shoulder… while eating a cookie.  With his mouth wide open. 

AAARRRRGGG!!! 

The clincher to my irritation was when he moved to the side of me – after I ran over his toe with my chair – and he continued to eat the cookie with his mouth open.  Pieces of chewed up cookie fell on my desk. 

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?

I kinda lost it.  I threw my mouse on the desk top, looked at him and said “Were you raised in a barn?”  He just chuckled and using his hand wiped the cookie bits into the trash. 

I have an overwhelming desire to Lysol everything in sight because I feel as though my office was violated.

I'm Married!!!

It just dawned on me that the last post before my "Gmail Chat" post was that I was getting married. Well - We did!  


Last Friday M and I went to the courthouse and made it legal.  We're officially no longer living in sin.  We tied the knot on Friday and had a party on Saturday.  Everyone important came to the party.  There were a few people who said they would come, but I knew would back out at the last moment - one who never even bothered to say anything about not coming; simply didn't show up.  *she did the same to a friends wedding two years ago.  And that was a wedding where the Bride and Groom paid for her and her husband's plates at $50 a pop.  Last minute she decided to babysit her sister's kids so her sister and Brother in Law could go to dinner and never even said anything to the Bride until the Bride called her looking for her.  Who does that?


We had a keg in the garage, wine chillin on the back porch (it's Chicago and it was in the 30's that night) we had mad appetizers, and my friend made us cupcakes instead of a wedding cake.  We played short bus and my Mother even played.  (She ended up having to be taken home by my Dad because she can't drink like a youngin' anymore!)


We ended the night with M's friend Carrie boo-hooing her eyes out in our ground floor bathroom because she's "so alone" while her boyfriend is in jail because he's a dickwad who can't control his temper and can't stop coking it up while on probation.  While I was sitting on the cold tile floor listening to her moan about the fact that she's so broke and so alone then start crying so hard she nearly starts to hyperventilate my new husband is upstairs in bed sawing logs.  (I told him Sunday morning that he OWED me for taking care of Carrie the night before.)


Now I'm just waiting to get the official Marriage Certificate so that I can legally change everything.  I know from experience that the easiest will be getting my name changed with Social Security and the hardest will be the Bank, because SS will accept my Marriage Certificate, but the bank will need SS Card, new drivers license and my firstborn.

Conversations via Gmail Chat

This is an example of why I love my Jessie so much!  She and I have some of the FUNNIEST conversations via Gmail Chat:

jessie: The more I'm reading about gluten, the more I'm glad I have to be on this "diet".

me: Dude... I support you and all your uncomfortable stomach, farty-gas assedness, but if you ruin food for me I'll punch you in the throat!!!

                                                                                                                                                           

jessie: do you like sweet and salty things?

  foods

 me: HAHAHAHAH! Just had to clarify that, huh?

  Yes. Yes, I do.

jessie: A lady here made Cheetos Puff Corn with white chocolate. It's frickin' addicting!!

me: I'm picturing puffy cheetos dipped in white chocolate. Is that right?

  That can't be right.

  Or is it?

  I don’t know whether to vom or to salivate…

                                                                                                                                                           

jessie: Lol!

  I REALLY hope no one comes into my cube right now.

  It smells like death.

  =p

me: So you DIDN'T get all the gas out!!! Or you ate gluten for lunch!

 jessie: I had some gluten for lunch. I'm a bad girl.

 me: Big 'ole bowl of steaming hot gooey gluten, huh?

  Sounds NASTY when I put it that way!

jessie: yeah that does! I brought tortilla chips, cheese and a granola bar from home.

  made me some gluten nachos!

 me: HAHAHAHAH!!!

You do know that smells travel around walls, right? Your cube neighbor to the left is gagging into his keyboard right at this moment...

 jessie: That's ok. He pissed me off today so he can smell my ass.

me: Nice. Remind me to stay on your non smelly good side.

 jessie: HAHA!!! Death by Jessie's ass!!!

me: I apologize in advance but I couldn't help myself... I have too much time on my hands here.

    (This is where I emailed her the following pictures that I found when I googled "You Smell Like Ass")

jessie: lol!! My FAV is the Walkin' and Fartin' one!!!

 me: HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! I knew it would be!!!

jessie: That's SOOOO what I do!!!

 me: I'm dying here.... !!!!

jessie: When you gag on your own fart, something is wrong. lol

 me: LOL!!!

                                                                                                                                                           

me: Do you remember on Sunday when I smashed my thumb on your freezer? The whole side of my thumb from knuckle to knuckle is bruised...

jessie: yep, I remember!

  Why you beating up my appliances?!

me: Your freezer is startin' shit...

jessie: HAHA!!

                                                                                                                                                           

jessieweg: you guys should go out! Get day drunk. =)

me: I read that like a dyslexic and read "Get gay drunk."

jessieweg: I KNEW you were going to say that!! LMAO!!!

  HAHAHAHAHA!!!

 me: You know me so well!!!

                                                                                                                                                           

There is something to be said about having a friend who just "gets" you.  Everyone needs a friend like this and I'm so thankful that Jessie gets me!

Oh. Em. Gee.

I'M GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW!!

Holy shit...
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Grocery Store Hell

There are reasons I don’t do my grocery shopping during the weekends, during the day, and now I can add – during the evening after work.  I don’t like grocery store people.  I may love you outside the grocery store.  You may be my best friend outside the grocery store, but let me tell you something, Missy.  The moment we enter those automatic doors and grab our carts you’ve just become Idiot Shopper #1.

I had to go to Meijer last night to get some last minute items for our party on Saturday.  I needed less than 20 items.  (Cost me nearly $90, too!)  I ran across some of the most ignorant asshole shoppers EVER last night.  Let me give you the rundown, shall we?

Idiot #1 – I get the need for safety when it comes to kids in the cart, but for GODS SAKE if Little Johnny won’t sit down you MAKE him sit down.  Then you get your ass away from the cooler of shredded cheese so I can get my shit.  Don’t stand there for a minute telling Little Johnny in a voice that has zero authority “You know Daddy can’t move until you sit.  You need to sit down Little Johnny.  Please sit down.  I can’t move until you sit.”  A minute may not be long to you, but when I’m in boots with a 4” heel and my feet hurt and I just want to get home, IT’S A LONG ASS TIME TO WAIT FOR LJ TO DECIDE TO FUCKING DO AS HE’S TOLD.  Besides, if grocery store cart safety ranks so high up on your scale of importance – Why is LJ in the damn basket to begin with?!  There are fucking seats built into the cart for a REASON.

Idiot #2 – Grandma’s got an attitude.  I always make sure that no one is coming crosswise before entering the end of the isle.  I don’t like being rammed by a cart and assume others don’t like it either.  So when I come to the end of the isle and pause a moment to make sure the way is clear – it’s not a fucking green light for you to rush me, slam my cart into the end of the isle, and give me the dirty look.  Fuck you, Grandma.  I hope all your cakes and cookies from this point forward taste like sawdust.

Speaking of being rammed with a cart:

Idiot #3 – You may have all the time in the world in which to complete your shopping mission, Cell Phone Talker, but I do not.  I don’t like grocery shopping on a good day; I detest it when I have to deal with those who are completely oblivious to their surroundings.  If you must talk on your phone to Bitzy about Pookie’s new haircut, get the hell out of the center of the isle, do not walk as though you are blind and deaf, and for fucks sake, DON’T RUN IN TO MY ANKLES WITH YOUR CART!  I will turn around and shove your cart back at your midsection with a force that will slice you in two.

For these reasons, as well as others not mentioned, my preferred hour in which to complete my grocery shopping is 10pm during the week.  However, you run into oddballs then too.  There are a surprising number of young mothers with toddlers out at that time.

These are also the reasons that the majority of my grocery shopping trips require a cocktail beforehand.

The Wacky World of Me

I have recently been informed that my car can hear me.  Yes.  Hear me.  As in “You’re going to be sorry you’re talking bad about your car when it won’t take you home tonight.  It can hear you, you know.”  Justin has decided to lose all touch with reality and has decided that all my negative talk about my POS Ford Taurus (that would be Piece Of Shit Ford Taurus) this morning will result in it deciding to completely crap out on me because it can hear me.  Oh, and it has feelings, too.  And I've hurt them apparently.

Jess and I were chatting via Gmail’s chat feature yesterday and after several hours of us actually working and not chatting, she sent me a message: "Can I ask you a question?"  I thought this was going to be about either Friday – my wedding day – or Saturday – the day we’re having a party to celebrate, so I gave her the green light.  Oh, nay-nay.  Her question was: "When you wipe after pooping, do you hover or stay seated?"

Wh-What?!

So not where I thought that was going!  Come to find out that her hubby, Justin, (different Justin from first paragraph) broke their toilet seat because apparently he just pivots on the seat so he’s really “gettin’ in there”!  Holy Crap!  (Haha!  Pun not intended, but funny none the less!)

I have been going back and forth with this girl in the accounting dept at a company doing work for us.  They’ve sent us 4 billings and we’ve kicked out one so in reality we have 3 billings total from them.  Two have been paid and the last one I’m waiting for a revision.  This girl in their accounting dept is really pissing me off.  She called about the 3^rd billing, the one we kicked out and explained to them at the time why we were kicking it out, wanting to know where the payment was.  I told her that we’d talked about that billing, both in person and via email.  She insisted that I was wrong & I had never spoken to her.  I asked if she’d like me to resend her the email recap I’d previously sent her about that billing.  That shut her up.

For a minute.

I had the pleasure of opening the 4^th billing from them yesterday, which needed to be revised because they haven’t changed any of their information that we’ve told them to change.  I sent another email reiterating the contact amount, what we’ve paid already, what we’re going to pay on that billing and the amount left on their contract.

This bitch sent me the revised billing today and informed me that my contract amount was wrong because they had to take the tax off the project, and could I please revise to show that.   Guess what her contract amount was?!  The fucking amount I told her it was!!!  To top it off, in the email this bitch sent me she addressed me as “Mr.” 

What.  The.  FUCK?!  

I've talked to her upteen times on the phone and I can tell you without a doubt that I do NOT sound like a man.  Not even close!  I’m about one conversation away from going to Alsip, IL and putting a size 9 ½ boot in the poo-nanny.

Welcome to my world.  Walk right in and make yourself comfy.

December Sucks

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before or not, but my birthday falls in December.  December 11th to be exact.  As a kid having your birthday in December SUCKED ASS.  I cannot tell you how many times I got screwed out of the loot by well meaning grandparents who'd combine my Birthday and Christmas present into one.  I also hardly ever had a birthday party because everyone was always so busy with family oriented things during the month of December.  Eric never got screwed out of loot or a party.  His birthday is in May.  He always got a birthday gift and a Christmas gift, and he always got a party.  Without fail.  Mark's birthday is also in December so he shares my pain.  (Actually, now that I think about it March was a busy month for my family.  We have 7 or 8 family members with December birthdays.)

As if that wasn't bad enough as a kid, my issue spills over into adulthood, but in a different way.  And this issue is not shared by my younger brother.  This issue has to do with gifts and my mother.  Yes, another Mother post.  If I had a therapist, they would be in heaven with all my issues with my Mother.

First off, let me make it absolutely 100% crystal clear - I know it is the thought that counts with gifts.  I know that it's better to give than to receive.  I know that I should be thankful that I have a Mother who even gets me a gift for either my birthday or Christmas.

However...

For at least 17 years now, ever since I moved out of my parents house,  I can give her a list of Birthday/Christmas gifts that I'd like.  I can print them from a  website, rip them from a magazine, draw her a map, and without fail every year she will completely disregard my list and get me something she thinks I'll like more.  It's like my Mother doesn't even know me.  I have given her a picture of a sweater.  I've given her the store where it's at, the size I wear and the three colors I'd like (her pick of color!) and she's gotten me a sweater that she "thought I'd like better".  Her choices are sweaters that she likes.  That she'd wear.  The problem with that is I'm not 60 years old.  I don't want a sweater that has Santa crochet on the pockets.

Don't even get me started on the gifts she buys for me while she's traveling.  OH. EM. GEE.  Twice now she's given me purses that she's purchased from someone selling them on a sidewalk in San Diego.  I can't even exchange that.  You should see her when she's giving me something that she's picked up on a trip.  She falls all over herself while handing it to me and waiting for me to open it.  She swears that I'm gonna like it SOOOOO MUCH!  I think those piss me off the most because it's such a waste.  I will never use them and they'll end up being donated to Goodwill.

Everyone else gets what they've asked for.  Eric wanted a tent for camping in the mountains?  He got a tent for camping in the mountains.  Mark wanted a new digital camera?  He got a top of the line digital camera.  I wanted a coat rack to hang on my wall?  I got a leather wallet on a string.  No returns.  No exchanges.  WHAT.  THE.  FUCK?!?!

I went to my parent's house yesterday to celebrate my Dad's birthday (Dec 3rd) and my birthday.  My dad got new clothes he's been asking for and a new stereo for his truck.  Awesome!  I already knew my gift came from my parents trip to Italy.  I was secretly hoping for booze because lets be real.  Booze is booze.  Out came the gift and it was about the size of a book and the thickness of a greeting card.  I started to get excited because I'd asked for black and white photos of architecture.  Easy, right?  Snap a few photos with her digital camera which has a b&w setting.  No big deal, right?!  I couldn't be more wrong.  I opened two teeny tiny color paintings of people at a table.  Really?  Holy fuck.

My Mother asked me for ideas for Christmas for my family.  I gave her Kiley's list, told her what Lianna wanted, showed her the air compressor M has been drooling over, and gave her my Best Buy gift card while telling her that I wanted a Kindle.  I started to tell her other ideas for me, she cut me off and we never went back to it.  Later that day she calls me to tell me she got M his air compressor, got Kiley her things, got Lianna her things and she'd bring my Best Buy gift card back because she got me another gift.

I'm on pins and needles waiting to see what she got me since the ONLY thing I told her I wanted she didn't get.

I hate December.

Who DOES That?!

HOLY FUCKING FUCKERY!

Yes, I cursed.  Loudly.  I don't care.  M called me while I was on my way to work to tell me that his boss, Demitri, told M he can't have next Friday off because Demitri was going to be off, and they can't both be off at the same time.  When M reminded Demitri that next Friday is our WEDDING day, Demitri told M to change it to Saturday because M has to be at work on Friday, AND if M wasn't at work on Friday M would be fired.

What.  The.  Fuck.

Who the hell tells someone a week before their wedding to change it?!  Who tells someone to change their wedding date at all?!

I hit the roof when M told me this.  You should have seen me in my car just spewing the word vomit with no regard to the the school bus of children next to me, the Granny in front of me... (Thank god it's "fall" and my windows were up.)  I told M to have Demitri call me and I'd tell him where he can take his Cheap, Inbred, Douche Canoe, Fucktarded, Greek Ass and how to fucking get there.  And I don't care if he IS bigger than me!

I also informed M that if the Asshat want's to be like that then let him.  M can start his married life unemployed.

Change my wedding date because Demitri can't seem to get his shit together and remember that M got this approved a MONTH ago?  Fuck that!

Later in the morning M called to tell me that he heard through the shop grapevine that today is Demitri's last day and that's why he told M he had to be at work next Friday.  Obviously, M has to go to the next person in command and explain the situation.  If they have a problem with it - refer them to me.  I'll straighten them out.

In fact, just last night, on a late night dog food run to Costco, M told me that he's thinking about biting the bullet and quitting this company to work at a different counter installation company.  He'd had an interview several months ago with this other company but they didn't have any openings for a lead installer, which is what he his now, and only had openings for assistants which would be a step down for him, thus a step down in pay as well.  He didn't take it, at the time telling them that he couldn't afford to get a pay reduction, but has been told by a buddy who works there that they'll still hire him anytime because of his experience.

Now this crap with his current company.  I told him to talk to his buddy at the other place, get another interview or face to face and not even bother telling his current company that he's done.  Just one day don't show up.  They don't deserve the courtesy.

This weekend I've got to find a dress to wear to my wedding next Friday.  I hope I can find one that isn't too much money and that actually fits.  I never wear dresses unless I have to, so we'll see how that goes.

M just called to tell me that my wedding rings came in.  We don't have the funds to buy an actual wedding ring with Christmas so close, so we ended up buying two very slender CZ rings, in an aqua color (for December) to create my own "wrap" wedding ring.  There are several very pretty CZ rings out there, and for the budget tight - like me - they would work fine.  EXCEPT my engagement ring is a real diamond.  Try putting a CZ ring next to a real diamond and it looks fake.  I'm not having that.  I think with the CZ in these rings being so very tiny, and being a colored stone, they may not look so bad.

FantasyJewelryBox.com

That's my wedding ring.  One of these on each side of my engagement ring (which I can't find a picture of) should look ok.  M wants to buy me the wrap I've been eyeballing for months now with his tax return.  We'll see how that goes.  I really don't care about the ring.  It's just a symbol after all, right?

Here's to hoping that the dress shopping goes ok...