ready

I just spent five minutes trying to determine if a piece of debris on my desk was the product of vigorous pencil erasing or the carcass of a dead bug. I am so ready to be on vacation from work until Tuesday.

P.S. it was scraping from the pencil eraser.

add this one to my list of abilities

I came home Monday night from work to find a horrific sight. There was garbage everywhere. In the kitchen. Under the dining room table. In the hallway. In the living room. Behind the sofa. By the fireplace. Pretty much everywhere downstairs, with the exception of the laundry room, bathroom, and roommate's cave. Where was the dog? The only one who could've knocked the lid off the trash can and tipped it over? Nowhere to be found.

I was trying to keep my shit together while looking for the dog. She never does this, with the exception of that one time this winter, which I blame on stir-craziness from the never ending snow and iciness. I finally found her upstairs in the den hiding behind the futon. Or rather, wedged halfway beneath the futon. She has never hidden from me before. She knew she had done a very, very bad thing. She always knows when she has been naughty, and even if the man nor I know of said naughty behavior, we can read it from her body language and she gives herself away every time. That bitch (literally) has no poker face.

Note: Neither the man nor I have ever, ever lifted a finger to the dog and she has no fear of any sort of physical abuse. She does, however, hate the disappointment that we exude and cowers at the thought. She cowers as we open the door to find her on the sofa (where she shouldn't be). She cowers as we walk up the stairs and find her eating cat food, etc. She's like I was in school, so afraid of the disappointment from my parents for untoward behavior that I rarely did anything considered "wrong."

So, I coaxed the dog out from behind the futon, led her downstairs and was about to take her outside to keep with the daily routine of letting her relieve herself. Since there was trash all over the house, she could obviously see what she had done. Apparently she was quite frightened of the tone in my voice (aka borderline hysteria and pissed-offedness) as I instructed her to "make potty outside now." This is an instruction that I give her multiple times per day.

Today was different. Today, when she was so eager to redeem herself. Today, on garbage orgy day, she cowered as we walked to the door and upon being surrounded by the trash or her binge, she pissed on the floor. Just a little, but still, she PISSED ON THE FLOOR. In her 7+ years of existence, she has never pissed on the floor. She must have missed the part where I said "potty OUTSIDE." The man seems to think that since the dog has never heard me so pissed off before, the utterance of that simple command caused her to lose it.

I let her outside, where she did the rest of her pissing, and in the meantime cleaned up the garbage and the piss (did I mention that she pissed on the floor?). As I picked up trash, I looked through everything to make sure there was no evidence of ingestibles that would hurt her, and upon finding none of those items, tried to compose myself again before letting the dog back in the house. Let's just say that cleaning up piss doesn't create a sense of zen for me.

Side note: The slovenly roommate eats fast food nearly everyday and leaves remnants of those meals in the garbage can (not in the compost, where they should be). These nasty tidbits must have sent the dog into a frenzy, and drunk with lust for scraps, she destroyed the sanctity of good manners, general hygiene, and overall not eating garbage in the house I just fucking cleaned the day before.

So, to sum up the event, the dog went on a day-long garbage bender and then was so embarrassed and/or guilty that she proceeded to piss on the floor under my disappointed gaze. And yet I am the one who ended up feeling bad. My tone alone is enough to cause incontinence. I wonder if that should be listed on my resume as a skill or an accomplishment.

is there an eco in here?

I've been working diligently to both beautify my surroundings at home and get rid of some junk lying around in an eco-friendly way. Also, I'm sure I mentioned that I'm into sustainability lately, which is great because I am poor. It is easier to admit that I "up-cycle" because it is good for keeping things out of the landfill, but that is just a bonus. The main thing is that I'm too poor and/or cheap to go out and spend exorbitant amounts of money on sub-par items. Old things really do seem to be of a better quality, I must admit. And I'm not just saying that because I get my jollies from a man 11 years my senior.

But I digress, I've long been a fan of fixing old things rather than spending money and resources on new things. So, long story shorter, I decided to spruce up a horribly disgusting and nasty dining chair I found in one our outbuildings (left by previous tenants whose butts shat out razor blades that seem to have cut open every chair they left). The result of my stress-induced need for calm has been two new chairs for my living quarters.

Below is the dining chair that had been missing a seat and fabric and had an odd smell and all-around was ass-nasty. I completely tore it apart and made a new seat and back, salvaging only the frame. Say hello to my new desk chair:

The photo is a bit darker than I wanted and there is a piece of ? on the floor that the cat batted into the shot. Oh well. At least I was able to get one picture without Cat Named Jack smelling the chair. Victory!

The other chair is just a side chair and is now in my upstairs den. It too had seen better days and was a lovely shade of mold. I removed all the nasty, painted the frame, and out popped a very comfortable chair. I've decided to go with a black and white fabric to keep things looking crisp...also because I love throwing around color so much that I thought I'd better keep it simple to avoid a constantly acid-trippy feeling when I walk into the room. That, and it isn't comforting to feel like you walked into a bag of skittles.


As you can see, Cat Named Jack makes an appearance in this photo, but at least he isn't smelling the chair. You'll see that he is wearing his Jackson Pinkerton III tie for the occasion.

out and about

I made note of a number of things that had made a particular weekend both pleasant and not-so-fun. Here are some photos to further elaborate on the wonders of the world outside my house.

I noted that the man bought me flowers. Since their relocation, they have been thriving, as you can see below:

These are just a couple of the flowers I planted. If you look closely at the photo, you can see a dandelion seed has found its way into the shot. The dandelions are the man's own personal hell. He is now talking about buying special lawnmower attachments to destroy said dandelions. Here is one of the evil doers:

I'm not a fan of just throwing money into the yard like that. As long as it is green, it's a yard. We don't have neighbors on our "dead end" road. From the road, it looks like lush grass and you don't even notice the dandelions. But the man notices them. And he has vowed to kill them. I think I'm going to have to bet against him on this one. Also, I see that I may be hypocritical, spending money on flowers, but flowers are different and and should be considered investments into my happiness. Just don't give me a bouquet, I'd prefer them alive and potted.

The last thing I mentioned in my list was that a hot air balloon made its way over our yard and nearly touched down in the field behind the house. Here's my proof:

After about a minute of trying really hard to hold her shit together, the dog was convinced that the world was coming to an end and sat shivering in the garage until I made a mad dash with her into the house, away from whatever the fuck she thought was falling from the sky to destroy us all. At least I got some good photos to commemorate the event.

visitation

I once again have taken Friday and Monday off from work. Yay! However, 8 hours of the weekend will be spent in the car, due to the fact that I'm going to visit my parents and other members of my extended family. It will be the first time I've seen anyone since Christmas. When was Christmas? Over 5 months ago? Oh yeah, I'm an awful daughter. I only live 4 hours away and I haven't been home in over 5 months. But I do talk to my folks multiple times per week, shouldn't that make it all better? The answer is no. Another 'but.' But...I am happy to report that I will not only be visiting them this weekend, but also once in June and once in August. Then, I will likely see them again for the baptism of my new nephew. See, I just stockpile my visits and then rapid-fire them out in a three-month period. Maybe I'm not so bad...or maybe I'm overcompensating...hard to say which.

Anyway, you know you've been gone way too long when your parents e-mail you multiple times per day to confirm that you are, in fact, still coming to visit. Then they tell their friends and neighbors about the magical homecoming of their wonderful only daughter whom they haven't seen in ages. And then they bribe you with promises of "treats" and fun-filled days of various hometown activities so you'll want to return again and again...and maybe will procreate so they can get their paws on some more grandbabies. Because, those AARP people, they feed off babies. I will not give in to their demands, however, and plan to exit this life with my lady bits in tact.

Moving on. I'm quite excited about visiting. It has been too long since I've been "home." (Thank you gas prices, for keeping me from the people who spawned me and for forcing me to put more charges on the credit card I thought I wouldn't need to use anymore.) I will be bringing more of my stuff and things and objects home with me. And hopefully a couple things that I can pilfer from my parents and then rejuvenate to make me feel like I am not poor and that I have "new" things.

When I return I will be posting photos and some rapid-fire, stockpiled posts detailing my projects and the various goings-on in my not-so-exciting life. Why? Because that's how I roll. I save up posts and visits and whatnot and when you least expect it...WHAM, BANG, POW...you are overcome with the glory that is the life of Trish. And you, in return, will pretend that I am fabulously amazing and delightful. Why? Because I already think you are fabulous and amazing and delightful. What a fun interchange it will be.

the end of the fucking world

Why doesn't anyone seem to care that Clay Aiken is procreating? I have this nightmare where Clay Aiken's baby and a baby produced by Josh Groban get together, mate, and create a musical horror that brings the world to its knees...and not in a good way. This nightmare is the result of this.

things that made this weekend good and/or bad

1. The man and I had plans for Friday as we would both be home early from work...I was not done early...he was not done early = bad
   
2. At approximately 6:00 pm Friday, I started having severe stomach pains for no apparent reason. No nausea, no indigestion, just pain. I couldn't quite stand up straight without the pain causing beads of sweat to build up on my forehead. The pain is still there, but is now bearable. Overall, unidentified stomach pain = bad
   
3. I finally watched Chicken Little, which happened to be on Disney channel as I was curled into a ball on the sofa (due to the abdominal discomfort). It was a cute movie = good
   
4. One of the man's old friends from high school decided to call drunk at 3:00 am Saturday morning while the man was out fishing and I was home alone, sick, and barely able to sleep. Plus, he couldn't understand who I was and why I was answering the phone at the man's house. What I should have said: "Dumbass, I fucking live here and get off the damned phone before I reach through it and pull your scrotum up over your face and tuck it into your eyelids." I wanted to say that, but I didn't = bad
   
5. Saturday morning we drove to the nursery and picked up flowers for my flowerbeds, all of which were purchased by the man so I couldn't say that he never buys me flowers = good
   
6. I felt somewhat well enough to go with the man while he fished on Saturday afternoon. I must say that I was quite amazed at his skill. Also, being outside made me feel less like dying = good
   
7. Some weird people from Illinois stopped where we were fishing and offered to buy the fish the man had caught. We gave them the fish for free. The man insists he is like Jesus, giving people fish and feeding the masses. I explain that Jesus probably didn't try to feel up his girlfriend for good luck before fishing, and also that two people are not exactly "the masses." Still, it was nice to do a good deed = good
   
8. We built a toad house in one of my flowerbeds and actually found a toad to live in it...and he stayed in the house through Sunday afternoon (and might still be there) = good
   
9. The roommate managed to stay on the couch for two straight days, making it unbearable to be in the downstairs area of the house, as he kept insisting that my stomach must hurt because I'm pregnant. There is no way that I am pregnant, but he is an asshole. I wanted to tell him that by judging the size of his expanding man-breasts and gut, he looks more pregnant than I. I didn't share this observation, though I wanted to = bad
   
10. A hot air balloon floated less than 100 feet above the house, which was really cool = good...and bad because the dog was scared out of her mind.

and i wouldn't even wear gloves

It is Friday, finally. I've only been in the office three days this week, but they were long days. Long days filled with incompetency and drama. But, the week is on an upturn because the office is very skeletal today. Only myself and one other staffer, plus a student worker for half the day. It's like I won the lottery (and not the lottery where your friends and neighbors stone you in the middle of the town square, but a lottery where they give you free money!).

I've been getting so much done, it makes me want to work alone every day. Human interaction is overrated. People suck. Every day. Everywhere. And they can't be trusted to perform up to their abilities. And if they can, their abilities are often sub-par. Every day. Maybe not all people, but oftentimes it is the people whom you rely on to get shit done so you can get your own shit done. But I digress, today I am alone without supervision, able to do my work in peace. I love you, Friday, and I wish you would come more often. I'd offer you tea and might throw in a foot rub, even though I think other people's feet are disgusting. That is how much I love you.

repair and maintain

I would like to report that the man and I have officially called a cease fire. I probably haven't mentioned it, but we've been a bit of a cranky-pants couple lately, bickering and hurling insults and irrationality like monkeys throw shit at each other. Obscenities have been used: not quite sparingly. And not in a loving way. We've both been stressed out with work and whatnot, and have been sharing that pent up nastiness with one another. And I repeat, not in the fun, naked kind of way.

This weekend was an opportunity to spend some time together and to let the work worries melt away (along with various parts of my skin, as I seemed to get burnt by both the sun and the oven all in the same three-day span). The weekend allowed us the chance to realize that we weren't bitchy at each other, at least not to the extent that we thought.

While I would like to blame this sporadic arguing on the man suffering from a severe case of MANstration, I do realize that I am also partially to blame. In hindsight, my tact has been non-existent and I've been bringing work home with me. And, did I mention, work has been hell lately. So...I've been bringing hell home with me. Dinner conversation usually went something like this:

The man: Please pass the corn.

Me: Some people are too incompetent to pass the corn. Some people can't pass you the goddammed corn until two weeks after deadline. Some people don't show up to work until halfway through the day and I'd like to jam cobs of corn into their eye sockets.

[Awkward silence]

Anyway, things are back to normal. My extended weekend gave me some distance from the stress associated with my job and the summer-like weather gave me a much needed boost from my gloomy perspective on things. I think we've even realized that we like one another enough to want to spend time together. Imagine that.

hiatus

I am taking a couple days of vacation to make the Memorial Day weekend EXTRA long. I am not sure if I will feel like posting during that time, so that's that. It is supposed to be gorgeous outside and I've got a ton of plans, most of which include avoiding either working on my thesis, lounging, or spending time outdoors...and not eating oatmeal. I'm giving that shit up for a while. I had a very interesting appointment with my doctor(s), but the results from that are yet to arrive, so I will have to keep you posted as the oddities explain themselves.

In terms of my long weekend (how long is it? 5 whole days of NOT BEING AT WORK), I actually have to take the time off from work because I can only carry over two weeks of vacation time and the end of the fiscal year is fast approaching...meaning I have to use 6 days before June 30. In other words, two more long weekends are in my immediate future. Yay!

Have a safe and happy holiday weekend.

and the winner is...

My nephew now has a name: Maxwell James.

I'm assuming he will go by Max and not M.J., as to avoid appearing too feminine or like a pothead.

naming of the shrew

The following is a transcript of a snippet from yesterday's conversation about baby names with my brother.

Me: what would you have named the baby if it had been a girl?

Brother: I can't tell you.

Me: but you told Mom after Brady [first nephew] was born.

Brother: we told Mom because we knew she'd forget. And she did.

Me: but I won't be having any kids so I won't steal it.

Brother: you'd probably use it for a dog, cat, rabbit, or whatever weird animal you people find next.

Me: I would so not use it for a rabbit.

Brother: we would never be able to name our kid that name if you used it for a pet.

Me: fine, I'll just name any new pets after your existing kids' names and then you'll be sorry. Then I'll call Mom and Dad and tell them that Brady was just licking his butthole, but I won't tell them that "Brady" is my pet and not their grandson.

Brother: I'm still not going to tell you.

Me: then you're just a dickface.

*Note: apparently you never outgrow the need to call your siblings stupid names when a conversation doesn't go your way.

anonymous

My brother and his wife had a baby today. He (the baby) doesn't have a name yet, but my brother has told me that the baby must have a name by Friday, when they are going to bring him home. If the baby were to commit a crime, now would be the time to do it, while he is still unnamed. Unfortunately, I don't think his tiny baby self could muster the strength to rob a bank right now, but he would definitely gain an edge in the favorite nephew category if he were to do so and to split his spoils with his wonderful Auntie Trish.

He kind of looks like an old man, all smushed and disheveled, like he has lived a hard life and walked up hill to school both ways.

The picture is of a somewhat grainy quality because it was taken with my brother's cell phone. I see a resemblance to my other nephew and to my brother. He's a baby, and thus not too cute at age 1 hour, but he'll grow into it.

Welcome to the family, unnamed baby!

don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining

It is finally spring. And with the spring, comes the rain. The rain from the sky and the downpour of work. Yes, I'm a bit peeved with my workload and that there is no end in sight. Did I mention it is spring? It is warm, and it is sunny, and it is hard to sit behind a desk and look outside with the knowledge that you will not get to enjoy it for many, many hours...and that when you finally do get to enjoy it you will be so beaten down by work that you will collapse to a writhing mess of insanity. This is me being optimistic. Hello springtime.

i don't normally do this...

As a general rule, I write very little about work. Mainly, because I don't want to get fired, even though no one from work knows of this blog. I have to do this though, because of the people in my division, I only know of a couple people who are not planning their escapes.


The chart below is a breakdown of how we are all feeling about our jobs these days, and the actions that we are taking:

I fall into the "can't afford to leave, but would like to" category. Argh...why must employers need a specific number of years experience? WHY?! Oh well, I will muddle through while complaining to my loved ones who probably already want to wring my neck for bitching about work.

It is not fun to work here anymore. Not that work has to be fun. But it has to not be a soul-sucking force in your life. But that is what it is. A soul-sucking force. For anyone who works here...with the exception of one person who will remain nameless. Everyone sucks and everything sucks. That is all I have to say.

one office over

To my colleague next door:

I can hear you listening to what sounds like porn. It is loud enough to be heard through the paper-thin walls. There appears to be groaning coming from your office. It is not you, I hope. It definitely sounds like it is coming from a computer. If it is not porn, I would be mindful of the YouTube videos you choose to watch on work time because you are making me more than uncomfortable. In the two plus years I since I began working here, I have chosen to believe you are an asexual being and now there are many frightening images in my brain. Because of the porn sounds. Thank you for that. Tonight as I jab a grapefruit spoon up my nasal cavity to try to rid those images from my memory, I will be collecting the tissues and delivering them to you tomorrow. I hope you like cerebral cortex.

Signed,
Trish T.

P.S. Due to the at-home surgical procedure I described above, I will likely be less productive for the duration of my time at work. But at least I won't have to think about what you were just viewing in your office.

i spy with my little eye...

This morning when I came into work there was a car ON FIRE in the parking lot next door. Totally on fire. It exploded. INTO FLAMES! It was about five minutes before the fire department showed up and extinguished the car, so I had a whole five minutes of excitement this morning. I know someone over in that parking lot was upset by the ordeal, but, c'mon...fire is cool and it is only so often that you can see a car ON FIRE.

f is for...

I went to a concert on Friday with a friend from work and her boyfriend. I was skeptical about the bands, neither of whom I had ever heard before. I must admit that I was pleasantly surprised by both (opening band: Paul and Storm, headliner: Jonathan Coulton); they were quite funny and the music was good. Here is a link to my favorite song from the night, First of May by Jonathan Coulton.

Really, you must listen to the song. Be forewarned that it is a bit explicit in terms of lyrics, but is a great song for all the springtime twitterpation that pops up around this time of year.

Happy May and here's to extracurricular outside activities!

mmmm...pie

Yay! It's spring...unfortunately that means it is raining...a lot. Water is falling from the sky, work is raining onto my desk and flooding my personal life. As I'm drowning in work, there has been very little time to spend on the thesis. However, I have gotten a few more pages written this week and have some resources from which I hope more genius-type words will be inspired. Enough with the boring update, here is a visual representation of what I have been spending my time on since Monday (not including the time it has taken to create this chart):


More thesis work will be done this weekend and hopefully more time will also be spent sleeping and avoiding the office. Have a great weekend. Have a drink. Get laid. Do both responsibly (because I've got too much going on to worry about your drunk ass getting coated in random, infested naughty juices).

why the man's parents seem to like me better

1. they don't have a daughter of their own
2. they never had to wipe my ass
3. they've never seen me throw a tantrum
4. they didn't know me during my annoying, adolescent angsty years
5. they don't look at me and see a resemblance to his estranged father
6. they buy me presents and are nice to me so that I won't leave the man (This point was raised by the man. Also, according to his mom, all the ex-girlfriends were bitches.)
7. they've never worried that my naughty parts would impregnate someone else's naughty parts (see above comment about bitchy ex-girlfriends)
8. I remind the man to call them on holidays and birthdays
9. they get better presents when I pick them out
10. I nag him so they don't have to