Babysitting: A Survival Story

AND in other [unrelated] news: 

I like coffee! 

WOO!!

So I'm back. 22 hours of babysitting and I live to tell the tale; which is probably not all that surprising but what you WILL find surprising is The Child is also alive and good health. 

(Smiles even. What a soldier.)

Unfortunately, there was one who could not endure.

It's my fault really, I was hard. Demanding Even. Required too much attention, too much support, pushing the limits. I took it for granted, not realizing that we were a team.

Give and Take both ways....like

 Peanut Butter & Jelly.

Milk & Cookies.

Lionel & his blankey. 

We needed each other but I did not fulfill* (*seriously, I tried like 13 different ways to spell that damn word!) (Thank you spellcheck. Kisses!) my end of the bargain and my partner took the fall.

Not literally thank God,

 jeez, I'm not that negligent!

It was more of a mental breakdown, if you will.

I wasn't worried at first. 

I can fix this! No problem.

I was confident. 

Maybe too confident.

An hour later the panic set in. I tried everything.

Scapula? Check. 

Go-Go-Gadget Hat? Check. 

Ibufrofen? Check.

Big Gulp of Caffeinated Coffee? 

Check. 

& Checkmate.

WOO!!

 ...but the damage had been done. I would have to complete my duty flying solo. I ain't gonna lie, a tear was shed for my fallen soldier. (The previous statement is, in fact, a lie.) The remaining hours ticked by slowly...I tried to take my mind off the pain but it was all I could think about.

I didn't even foresee it coming! Had I missed The Signs? Were there signs?

But it was too late. The damage: done.

All I could do was sit. And wait. 

...tick-tock, tick tock.... 

(And eye the bottle of Champagne calling my name.)

 (but this was no time to celebrate. 

This was a time of grief. Of mourning.) 

...And waited some more....

no more "tocks" just ticks!... 

(What's up with "babysit Friday night" actually being "babysit Friday night, most of Saturday and adding 2 more kiddies in the mix in the afternoon"?)

...and GROWLS.

(for the record: The little people were perfect angels =)

When I got home I immediately began intensive surgery. For a while I thought it was no use, it was *gulp* over  but I persisted, desperation fueling me and 

VOILA!!!

WHOMP!! THERE IT IS!!

My iPhone lives!

No more tears =)

SHAKALAKA! SHAKALAKA!

(stop snickering iPhone Haters! The iPhone is still THE BEST!)

(And I think it's a sign from the Apple Gods that I neeeed to get the newest iPhone when it comes out.)

This post was brought to you by Coffee! WOO!

Blame it on the caf-cu-cu-caf-cucu-caffeine!

bee-tee-dubs, I'm considering switching to decaf....=)

Who's a Champ? I'm a Champ. (yea, I said it)

Guess who just made their first Cup of Joe! 

I did. 

That's right, Coffee Success!

 

It only took me a 30 minutes from start to finish.

(2 minutes of that time was brewing time. 

Coffee is a Speed Demon.)

*****     *****     *****

Who knew we keep coffee in the FRIDGE. The FRIDGE?! Hello, it's in the cupboard on the Foldgers commercials! 

(Heh, heh, I knew it too... The Fridge, duh. First place I looked...silly Foldgers trying to pull the wool over our sleepy eyes, you didn't fool me for a second.)

And there's like all kinds of parts and stuff once you open the little lid thingy. A world of gizmos & gadgets taunt you like little Circus Monkeys. 

Frame. Filtration Disk. Disk Cover. Basket. Pots. Filters. (Oh my!)

All those cryptic numbers on the pot. (WTF?)

What do they mean?! I cried, shaking my fists at the ceiling sky.

The Coffee Can gives me measurements by OUNCES and TABLESPOONS. So then there's conversions....WHAT?! 

What is this Rocket Science?! 

COFFEE is all I ask of you!! 

Not travel to infinity and beyond(!) and Twitter me updates, pictures and answering the age old question of Is there life on other planets What Are You Doing Right Now? (I'm pretty sure even astronauts are using Twitter these days.) 

Coffee!! I just NEED some Coffee! 

I NEEEED IT! 

GimmeGimmeGimme!

*ahem*

And then there was my iPhone, like a Knight in Shining Armor (that practically screams, for I shall rescue thou) (or "slide to unlock") galloping in on a white horse Stallion (named Google. Very Stallion-like, yes?) coming to rescue me in my helpless Coffee-less despair from the VICIOUS FIRE-BREATHING Dragon (Let's call this evil monster Mr. Coffee, shall we?).

After my iPhone Knight In Shining Armor battled Mr. Coffee, it turned out that Mr. Coffee was not so evil or dragon-like after-all, just misunderstood, like so many of us. (I think it was ICan'tFigureThisShitOut Syndrome) (Yes, that's the techjnical medical term for it)

He was more of a toad once you got to know him. A toad that turned into the Prince of Caffe-Merica. 

Now understood, the Prince then dropped the "Mr." and unflattering Circus Monkey/Rocket Scientist/Dragon routine and is now totally down-to-Earth "Regular Joe" kind of guy who goes by Joe Coffee (or Cup-Of-Joe if you're into pet names)

And we spend the morning (figuratively speaking)

Happily Caffeinated After....

And THAT Ladies & Gentlemen is what I call Coffee Success!

Pongin' It In Beer Stylie

I played Beer Pong for the first time this weekend.

(that's right, first. time. played. And the answer is yes. Yes I do live under a rock thank you.)

(but My rock is Super Fantastic I. Will. Have. You. Know.) 

It'll likely be my last time I play seeing as- I suck at it. 

(Big time suck.) 

....Unless of course you count making into my own cup.

...or regular cups...

...or empty cups...

...or the rinse cups...

...Just not the cups I actually aim for, if those cups were the Gold Standard I would KICK ASS in a Super Fantastic way at Beer Pong.

But NotSoMuch.

I'm convinced that the ball had it's own agenda, like it was possessed or something.

Possessed by a....

...a...

a  poltergeist! 

That's it!! 

A Ping Pong Poltergeist!!

 

 Who Knew? 

That little maniac needs to be exorcisted or something I tell ya!

Bust out the holy water! 

Say some prayers! 

Drink some wine! 

(FYI, Wine is holy and it works best when ingested)

(Hey I don't make the rules, I just live by them...)

(Okay, I make up the rules sometimes...but you gotta admit-the wine one. The Wine One is Golden!)

Twilight: Don't Do It.

I get it now. It hasnt even been 24 hours, I'm on chapter 5 of Twilight and I have suspicians that this book is made entirely out of crack coccaine that is absorbed through the eyes and the brain and your fingers and becomes increasingly strongr with each word. In fact I'm pretty sure if I licked the pages...well it's not my book and I DO have a smidge of self control left in me (somewhere).

I'm dying here at work not being able to read on and find out what happens a next! I'm tempted to buy the damn book on Stanza so that I can read it on my phone under the guise of texting or whatver it is my boss thinks I'm doing on my Magical iPhone.

Also I think I'm in love. His name is iPhone and he's perfect and he rocks my world. It may be a tie between iPhone and Edward Cullen.

iPhone made of crack too? I'm thinking yes. Hell yes.

I'm in serious need of a Geeksorcism. Heaven help me.

S.

Sent from my iPhone.

To Vegas or NOT To Vegas.

Sunday night one of my friends invited me to Vegas this weekend.

I initially didn't want to go since this one friend in particular (let's call her Ms. Beachery) (she likes the beach, I think.) (Everybody likes the beach.) has not been the nicest gal lately and is into the drama like Hollywood is Botox.

However, since said invite a faint chanting of vegas, vegas, vegas... turned into a full on shout, so my weekend is set. VEGAS BABY!

How could I refuse?

I'm sure Ms. Beachery will warm up, it being her birthday and (hello!) being in Vegas! What's not to love!

Right?

Yes.

And if not, whatev. I'll be caught up in a wonderous whirlwind that is Vegas (!) and drunken oblivion where HappyTime is had by all. Or just by me, I can never really tell at that point.

I Like the Beeswax.

This weekend I lost every single Chapstick that I own even the emergency back ups.

(No thank you drunken nights.)

Already about to swipe my credit card at the grocery store today I remembered and grabbed the closest stick of anti-chapped lips in arms reach.

If you work in an office you know: lunchtime is crunchtime, no time to go gallavanting around the store -in heels, no less

It happened to be a 3 dollar stick of Burts Bees Beeswax Lip Balm. 3 dollars! For chapstick. My usual Cherry Chapstick is about a buck, maybe 2. We're in a recession! My hours are cut! I can get THREE Cherry Chapsticks for that!

All I could do was sigh, swipe and get back to work. (Chapped lips are not to be ignored.) (And Solitaire awaits me.)

The Beeswax of Burt lived up to it's hype. I'm a fan.

One sweep of the lips and my lips were cool and fresh and soft.

Good job Burt. Your Beeswax is good.

I just spent $40 in iTunes, $40 get my car wash/waxed but 3 dollar chapstick, I call an outrage!

I may need to rethink my priorities...or maybe I just need a drink.

A Mango Cadillac Margarita (slushy style cuz it's a hot day) from El Torito is what I was really wanting for lunch today. No chips 'n salsa for me. Just the drink please.

They really should have To Go cups.

Or I can pour the Marggey in a Big Gulp Cup, it would totally pass as a Slurpee.

Fantabulous Friday!

Fridays are generally good. All of them. It marks the end of the work week and the start of the weekend. (and if you don't love weekends - I don't know you)

I woke up late today (hardly unusual) and didn't have time for breakfast. This is normally cause for grumpiness (I'm unpleasant when I'm hungry.) ('Unpleasant' is an understatement.) ('Understatement' also being an understatement.) but today I held my head up high because I had 4 purchases on iTunes just waiting to jump out of my iPhone and soothe my soon to be famished soul.

I'm also nearing the end of Dracula so there's that too. (I love that you can read books on the iPhone! How unacceptable would it be if I had a full on book at my desk; A book with pages to turn and stuff- my wherewolf *ahem* Supervisor would have a field day!) (Full Moon Night?)

Actually, he's not very aggressive. You know how SpiderMan is like SPIDERMAN-all saving the world (or just New York City) and stuff and his alter ego is this weenie boy of a man Peter Parker? It's like that. Except in his case the whole dressing up as a WhereWolf thing is seasonal (as far as I know...or even want to know for that matter!) and high schoolers and middle schoolers...and grown-ups aren't always nice (understatement) to the minimum wage monsters...okay, he's nothing like any superheros just the weenie alter egos. I digress.

I knew today was going to be a particularly good Friday when there were bagels (BAGELS!) in the kitchen! I don't know about you but I love me some bread! And bagels? Num, num, num...

And have you been reading the blogs today?! Normally Fridays aren't the best day for the Blogosphere (don't you love how you can just insert 'blog' into anyword and make it blogworthy? Oh look, you can add it to words too!) (I'm a dork. I know this.) but today, today it seems like everyblog I've read is super funny and/or interesting! And make me want to jump out of my seat and shout "YES!" while pointing with a [toothepaste commercial sized] [or Mentos commercial] smile at the computer. (Not the "Bob" smile though-that's too much smile.)

I'm hoping that my debit and credit cards are waiting for me in my mailbox when I get home. Actually, I'm counting on it because of said iTunes purchases my Gift Card will not last the weekend...

A great jump off for the upcoming weekend, no?

AND it's not been cold as shit lately. (Icing on the cake!)

AND it's PayDay! Sweet Jeezus, the Gods are smiling down on me TODAY! Ooooh Weeee! (Most definately the cherry and whip-cream and chocolate syrup and nuts on the cake!) (With a side of Chocolate Malted Crunch Ice Cream!)

I gotta go buy a Lottery Ticket! Big Money coming my way! I can FEEL it!

Sto Imparando Li Italiano

Night One of my Conversational Italian class.

I had a bet going with my mom that I would be ("by far") the youngest in the class. I walked into a class of senior citizens and pulled out my phone to text her when I realized that I was 10 minutes early anybody younger than me or even near my age would most certainly not come to class 10 minutes early. (This was out of character for me.) I, myself, consider within the first 5 minutes "early", the first 10 minutes "on-time" and then I stop counting cuz who admits that they are late? Not me. (Clearly.)

After the rest of the class showed, there may be 1 other girl that is around my age but I'm pretty sure that I have a free dinner coming to me in the near future.

So my teacher is nuts. (which I love. Love the characters!)

• Toe socks with (non-thong) sandals. Check.
• Raggamuffin hairdo that puts my little cousins RaggaMuffin Do after a hard day of 1st grade play to SHAME. Check.
• Thick rimmed blue glasses. Check.

She has a cat-earred headband that she wears sometimes too.

She has mad energy that is shooting out her hair (Read: RaggaMuffin Do) and talks a mile a minute stumbling over her words in excitement/"nervousness".

She has no kids, teaches kindergardners, another Italian class and jazzercise. Wow, right? Yes. But it's good because she's goofy and entertaining and if she can teach kindergarders to read than she can most certainly teach me Italian, right? (I'm optimistic.)

What Happened?

Today is day 4 of no credit/debit cards.

I am a survivor.

Okay, I am surviving off an AmEx gift card that I got for Christmas. Ya, I know, unbelievable right? Nobody, nobody still has gift cards left over from Christmas and especially not one that can be used practically everywhere*. But I do (an exception to the rule? Maybe.) and without it I would be broke out on the streets with a piece of cardboard and an old tin coffee cup that I took from a sleeping Vietnam war vet (or whatever their called) next to the freeway begging for extra change.

Or not. But it’s been tough without my cards. (They’re like my grown-up blanky.)

But I guess you reap what you sowe. (Or something.)

Everybody has their drinks of choice. Mine (lately) are champagne, wine or Margaritas (I love me some Tequila). But Saturday night, already irritated with the meanness of my friend sober was not what I wanted to be, I was getting down to biznaz which (to me) is AMF. Also known as an “Adios Mother F***er” or simply “Adios”, it’s blue, it’s yummy, warms the tummy and well, it’s all in a name, right? Right.

Three (heavy handed) AMF’s later, a shot of Kamikazi, a sudden (turn for the worst)head/stomach change and a flash of realization that I had not eaten dinner and Houston, we have a problem! Immediately started flashing through my mind in big, bright, Vegas-style letters. (Not helping.)

Ugliness ensues…

So anyway, I have a kick ass card case with 4 cards in it: Driver Liscense, Debit Card, Visa, AmEx. In other words, this card case is My World. (Or Grown-Up Blankey. Either way.) Gone. Missing. Shit. Shit. Shit!

Why is it that the most beautiful Sundays gets no love from me because some kind of twisted law of being in your 20’s that I must be hung over in the event of a pretty [Sun]day?

Or does the day just seem pretty in contrast to my mental (read: want to hibernate in a dark cave with my blankey- the non-plastic, non-grown-up, warm, soft and cuddly one.) state?

Either way. This law must be banned. (BANNED!!)

I called my friend. Nothing. I checked all my cards and cancelled them. I freaked out when I heard the balance on my AmEx card. What? Almost $300 I’m only a week into my billing period! Oh. Yeah. All me. (Damn.)

My friends ended up finding my lost goods. (Actually, I’m still missing my Cherry Chapstick but I’m a survivor. I will prevail. AmEx to the rescue!)

Lessons of a Shit-Faced Saturday night:

- Eat before drinking.

- 3 AMF’s is too much for me no matter how much I’ve eaten. Don’t do it.

- Mission: Get Wasted is equivalent to Mission: Fail (oh the irony…). Don’t do it.

- Bitchy friends leads to 3 AMF’s and a Kamikazi which leads to Bad News Bears. Don’t do it.

*I use this term loosely. To my dismay AmEx is not accepted everywhere. Which is a damn shame cuz the card is just so pretty and I get reward points and who doesn't love rewards? (And if you don't love rewards than you are clearly an Alien and I have 29,384,382,028+++ questions for you.)

Maintaining Sanity at the Workplace.

I got "randomly picked" to do receptionist duties at the end of the day today. I suddenly feel inadequate for the job. I do not wear red lipstick. My credit cards are not maxed out. Maybe I can make up for that by chewing gum loudly, twirling my hair and gossiping on the phone. (And it took me 3 tries to spell "maxed", oddly, there is no "k" or "c". I think I'm getting the [stereotypical] receptionist bug) And I'd have to make up the gossip since I'm listening to:

Biggie, Biggie can't you see sometimes your words just Hypnotize me....

What? I saw the movie last week. I can't help it. (BTW: Good movie.)

Movies inspire me. Kill Bill - Samurai Warrior. Marley & Me - I want a dog. Notorious - a Rapper. Gran Torino - for a week I aspired to be an old, grumpy, racist and super tough white guy. Madagascar....well, you get it. I digress.

So....Biggie is hypnotizing me, not the office gossip. (A girls gotta protect her sanity.) (Thank you iPhone and all your fantasmal apps) Well, not so much gossip as the idiotic/ridiculous conversations that happen. (Although, they are pretty amusing at times, I typically drown them out with music.)

Like any office we have some characters up in here.

Like the 24 year old who acts like he's 9 and goes around the office telling us about his DRAMATIC girlfriend seeking advice (that he never follows). The hyper (donut & cookie loving) Philipino man (I only say that cuz he has an accent) everyweek it seems he has a new thing (photography, a car, computer, biking....).

The dude obsessed with WhereWolves. No joke. Obsessed. 14 years (and counting) of dressing up as a wherewolve and haunting at Knott's Scary Farm, he uses ALL of his vacation time for this particular event. (To work for min. wage, no less.) He legally made his middle name Wolf. His Cubie-wherewolves everywhere. RingTone-Howling. Wherewolf T-shirt EVERYday (even if it's under a button up shirt). Obsessed.

Characters.

You can imagine the off the wall conversations that take place here at the workplace. But no juice. (You can only listen to biking stories and girlfriend drama for so long. That's bicycle BTW.)No interoffice romances, behind the scenes sexscapades or anything of that nature going on. No bickering/catfights like I hear about going on in other offices. This ain't no hen house. (Thank Gawd!) Just bullshit. Idiots here. Ridiculousness there. Drink, sleep, repeat.

Hi my name is S. and I'm addicted to GoldFish. But who isn't?

I love goldfish.

(*crunch-crunch*)

(And cheez-its.)

(*crunch*)

(And anything else crunchy and cheesey.)

(*crunch-crunch-crunch*)

I'm addicted. Once a box is opened and one tiny little cheesey fish touches my tongue I'M HOOKED. (*crunch-crunch*)My mind is then drowned in thoughts of crunchy, cheesey delisciousness. (*crunch-crunch-crunch*)I cannot be stopped. (*crunch.*)I'm unstoppable. (*crunch-crunch*)I'm like Hungry, Hungry Hippo. (*crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch*)Only I'm not hungry (*crunch*)nor am I a hippo (*crunch*), I'm just addicted to the fish. (*crunch-crunch*) Crunching & chomping away on the deliteful little orange fishies like a fiend. (*crunch-crunch-crunch*)

They're really should be a patch or something. (*crunch-crunch*)

Unemployment: Do It Right!

As far as I know, we are in a recession and gads of people are losing their jobs. In fact, I know quite a few people who have already lost their job and from what I hear there are more to come. (Make me proud, Obama, turn it around. My 401k is supposed to grow. GROW-as in get Bigger!)

So, riddle me this Batman.

Why is there so much traffic?

(Like how that has to do with Obama and 401k? Me too.)

Going to work: Traffic.

Lunchtime: Traffic.

After work: Traffic.

Traffic. Traffic. Traffic.

Where are these people going? (Hint: Not to work.) Why are they driving on the freeway at the same time as me? They have no right! They are rightless!

Me. Employed. I have the right to drive during peak hours. (The Right!)

(Except on Mondays.)

Stores don’t even open until 9, so where are you going, anyway? In fact, you probably shouldn’t be shopping either. Unemployment only pays a maximum of 90 bucks a day (in California). Just go to Costco and stock up on Top Ramen (and booze). Stop making me all road ragey, you traffic inducers, you!

Get off the freeway! Get on the internet. Start submitting your resume on Monster or CareerBuilder so you can complain with me. Be on my team!

(Or send me funny e-mails, clearly you junk e-mailers are the laid off ones; as Forwards filling up my inbox to the point of annoyment has become a thing of the past.)

(Funny is key. I don't want to pray or cry at work, I do enough of that due to the fact that I'm here at work-nothing more, nothing less. Work is over-rated. But then there are paychecks and it all comes full circle. Point: Gimme a laugh. A good Hardey Har-Har.)

Whatever you do, don't get on the freeway.

Driving wastes gas.

Gas cost money.

Money grows on trees.

No wait, that's not right.

(I did have a dream though. I was a farmer. It was nice.)

So Money...oh, forget it.

If you are not employed, there is absolutely no reason (What. So. Ev-ar!) for you to be on the freeway. Your days should be like this: from 7am to 8am you should be sleeping. From 12pm to 1pm you should be in your PJ's watching daytime TV. By 5pm you should be drunk because this is how you cope with not having a job and daytime TV sucks. Shower. Sleep. Repeat.

(Drinking helps to cope with working too.) (Go figure.)

(Hey, I don't make the rules; I just--oh. I DO make the rules...but I can. I have a blog.)

Back to daydreaming...

\end rant.

2009 Trends stay the same...

A week and a half off work and now I'm back! No wait- who put that exclamation point there? Really, it's a sad face and a cry out for some drink! (Spike my Starbucks with Baileys please. Thanks.) (They really should sell shots of Baileys though, right!) Today is actually day 2 at work. I was here yesterday but I wasn't here yesterday, y'knowat am sayin'?

I was hoping (kinda-resolutions…) that I would come back to the office and a mountain of sweets to climb would await me upon my return to the IceCubey to help me cope. Sure enough it was Everest but with twice the cold and minus the sweet mountains. So I guess it is more Antarctica than Everest.

Clearly, the cold has affected my ability to think properly. But I can type with gloves like a Champ! Oh yeah and my floor heater died. I [repress bad memories and] forgot all about work [as soon as I walked out the door] (coulda been the copious amounts of wine too-either way.) and my dire need to buy a new floor heater.

IceCubey – 2, S. – -5 and [frozen] solid.

I'm considering changing the name of this blog to "The Little Eskimo" (nickname at home) or "Hell Froze Over, I'm in It" or "Typing With Gloves" or "Brrrrrrr!" or "Warm and Fuzzy Don't Live Here" or "FrostBitten and Bitching" or "Fighting the Frost. & Losing." or "Fu-fu-fu freezing" or "The Cold is My Kryptonite" or something….but maybe (please, Please, Pleeeeeeze!!!) things will change in the summertime? (I'm wishin. And hopin'. And prayin'.)

I did get my Christmas wish though! We've had the heater since Christmas Eve (at home)! Yay! AND I got a new blanket. So (at 74) I'm no longer wearing a beanie and gloves but I AM still wearing 2 pairs of pants plus knee high socks and a pullover a longsleeve shirt to bed. I'm pretty sure I'm cold blooded.

My New Years was awesome though. Hit up a couple of parties. Our designate [*cough* *cough* drunk] driver got lost. Maybe she was feeling lady luck on her side because we was headed toward the casino. Between us and the casino-(dark) desert; and after the casino-(dark) desert. (She caught on and found her way- no casino. More wine money for us!)

But then there was the spilling,

(I need to invest in a sippy cup.)

I did not fall.

I did not puke.

I spilled.

I even spilled (red wine) on my friends shirt. He now has a red nipple on his blue shirt. He wasn't drunk enough to go with my foresight that it would be the new trend of 2009. Nor was he for my idea to spill red wine

all over to make the rest of the shirt the same.

His loss. You just wait. It's gonna be a trend. I'm convinced. (I convinced myself.)

Beds Got a Hold On Me Now

MISSION: Sleep In My Own Bed, last night seemed an Impossible feat last night and now it is 6 in the morning and time to get up for work and I able to sleep now. Probably until a good and healthy 10 o'clock. ('good and healthy' only because I would be getting more than 4 hours sleep)

I don't wanna go to work. (wah!)

The snooze at this point is even scary, I'm pretty sure if I close my eyes again I will sleep through EVERYTHING, a marching band can march their marchety marching asses through my room and I would sleep like a baby, all snug as a bug in a rug.

*le sigh*

Okay, 'nuff o the stalling. Paychecks.

There is money that needs to be made and bills to be paid.

S.

Sent from my [naked] iPhone