Nostalgia

As I get ready to leave the one and only job that I have known since moving almost 7 years ago, I am starting to think about all the things that I will actually miss. It is like any breakup really. On e it is over, you start thinking about the "good" times.

I will admit that there have been some. I have made a few friends and they are what I will miss the most. It is honor of them that I write this post about all the things I will miss about my crew. I will list itin the order that I met them.

Cocoa- Yours was a welcome face upon my first steps into the office. My first thought was, "her hair is awesome." You being a touch of color was kind of misleading in terms of the rest of the office, but you provide enough flavor to cover up for most everyone else. Don't let that crazy get you down because she can only dream of being so fabulous.

JJ Santana- How can I ever hope to replace a friend who not only hums her own theme music, but is unashamed to admit to drunkenly downloading multiple versions of Supersonic. You are the inspiration for the I-tunes breathalyzer and I will never give you the satisfaction of losing touch.

Jigga- You are my constant inspiration to "Do Better". I appreciate that you are who you are and your stubborn refusal to be unhappy. Your real life is even better than those shows we watch. Keep me updated.

Seattle- You recommended me and hooked me up with the job that I am leaving and I still like you. I joke, but you are on of the best people I have met since crossing state lines and you are full of surprises. The best thing is that you look as sweet as a gap ad and yet find a way to be awesomely inappropriate and down to earth. You are on the birthday list for life.

Tresseme- You may be new, but I appreciate that you are man enough to admit that you may be douche. That says a lot and may have bought you a pass. Cutting to the point... Your hair is amazing and I will miss its shiny glory.

It may not be perfect, but they are the family that I have grown to love.

Questionable Status

The way things stand right now, I have to say that even I am questioning my status as a legal citizen. I have no Social and unlike the President, I have nothing that even looks like an original Certificate of Live Birth. I do have a valid driver's license, but it was given to me under shady circumstances. I handed in my old one and flashed a copy of my marriage license and got a license under a name that I could never prove I had. My passport is expired by almost a decade and I have no other state issued identification.

In short, I have absolutely NO proof that I am who I say I am. This would normally mean nothing to me seeing as though I have been living off the grid for quite some time now, but I recently got a new job and they have asked me for proof of my ability to work in this country. As a legally born citizen, this should not be a problem, but I have no proof that I am such a citizen and cannot get such proof in by Thursday, unless a call from my other will suffice. I doubt that is going to fly.

I went today to the SS office to apply for a new SSN card, but that will take 2 weeks. I am hoping that the receipt plus my "magic" marriage license will once again get me past the guards. I mean, does it really matter if I'm legal? Since they keep raising the age, I will probably not make it collect the Social Security they plan to take out anyway. I get benefits through Husband's job. Besides, if I were going to fake something, it would not be a girl from Queens with a questionable credit rating...or maybe I would as part of my ingenious plan. In a so stupid, it is genius kind of way.

I am just saying - Why all this fuss about proof?

He's A Douche

Yesterday, I was reading the signs that the guy checking you out or that you may be considering is actually a d*bag and I feel like they left a few thing slide. They mentioned wearing Ed Hardy (no surprise there), bandanas (particulary a problem if you are mot actually in a gang and reppin' a set) and printed skinny jeans (I refuse to share clothes with my guy), but they missed some other key features.

Here is my extended list. It has been compiled from years of working with and laughing at some of the douchiest guys God ever let live.

1. A guy wearing pants below his butt. You may disagree at first, but let's look at the definition of douche according to the Urban Dictionary. It reads, "a person who has shown themselves to be brainless in one way or another, thus comparing them to the cleansing product for...". Only an idiot would walk around in a pair of pants that he has to clutch with his fist in the front and do a bowl egged elephant walk to get around in. Not to mention the fact that these pants would be highwaters should he ever actually bring them this waist. If being brainless makes you a douche, then this guru fits the description. Besides, any grown man taking fashion tips from Lil Wayne and Justin  Bieber should automatically be considered questionable.

2. A guy who wears loafers and no socks to a work meeting. I don't care how fancy your suit is or what kind of leather those shoes are made of; a man should wear socks to his place of business. Other than surfer and scuba instructor I actually cannot think of a job where a man should not be expected to wear socks and only a jerky douche would think that it is okay to walk through the office making that squeaky or suction cup noise your feet make when you don't have on socks.


3. European cut jeans. I will make an exception if your man is actually from Europe, but otherwise he is a wannabe and that is sure sign of oncoming doucery.

I will stop there because my bosses are coming out of a meeting and I will have to check out what they are wearing if I ever hope to complete this list.

Stupid Comments

It should come as no surprise that I spend a lot of time surfing the Internet and reading random Internet articles. That is what you do when you hate your job and spend the majority of your day procrastinating and trying not to make eye contact.

One the things I sometimes like to do if I have found an article to be either really interesting or really ridiculous is to read the comments. I like to see if other people agree with my assesment of the article or topic. The problem is that most of the comments are STUPID! I am not just saying that for shock value. They make me question both reading comprehension and sometime just people 's thought processess as whole.

For example, I read about candidate Akins' "legitimate rape" comment and one commenter who was offended wrote that "no means no" and that there is no such thing as "illegitimate rape". This was followed by comment that went like this, "...and being an illegal immigrant means just that ILLEGAL. You liberals are such hypocrites". What?!? what does immigration have to do with a candidate making an inappropriate comment about rape or abortion, or even with liberal politics?

Then I read an article on Eonline and it mentioned the Mrs. Obama was on The Tonight Show with Gabby Douglas and made a joking comment about Gabby not encouraging Jay (a notorious junk food eater) about eating a McDonalds and people wrote the usual things about her being to fat to talk about Jay (not true, but at least on topic) to Gabby needing braces and "lining her pockets" post Olympics to Michelle taking too many vacations. All this stemming froma comment about Egg McMuffins.

I read a lot of entertainment and fashion news and am constantly amazed by the way people turn an article about Lady Gaga's hair color into a discussion on race and the "oppression of white people". Which is comment that I will just never be able to get behind.

As much as they infuriate me, I admit that I will probably keep reading the comments at the end of articles. Not only do they keep me from working, but...

They make me feel smarter.

Shout Outs

I would like to shot to my girl Lotus. I saw a mention of how the plot of the Expendables is so simple that it could be translated into Tagalog and still be understood. If you don't know Tagalog, look it up. (pause) Yup...I bet you have been saying it wrong all this time.

I alo have to give a shout to my girl Jigga, whose doctor not only suggested that she go to church, but suggested Episcapallian because service would be similar to her Catholic roots, without the rigid rules and judgement. Besides, I am not sure the priest has enough time to listen to that list in the confessional. I can always count on Jigga for an addition to the "Do Better" list. So here it is:

If your PCP, a man who makes his livingoffof evolutionary science, writes you a prescription to go to church aand get a dose of Jesus, you need to do better.

Grumpy bought me and Coco some custom soaps and body scrub to make up for our continued oppression by "the man". (never mind that he is a middled-aged Caucasian man) I was totally excited. I brought it home and showed Husband for his opinion. I could not wait to use and come to bed smelling good. As usual, he did the opposite of what I expected and said, "That stuff stinks!" This statement came complete with a screw face. That ended that and so ended my night and my most recent attempt to impress him.

That will also serve as the end of this post.

Loophole Found

So, apparently, I can blog while I am at work as long as I do it from my iPad. I think that is wired considering I am still using the company network, but I will take what I can get.

My LoLo is now 4 and obsessed with declaring his big boy status. Suga Booga is a little over 1 and has major attitude for someone who wants to kiss and cuddle ALL the time. Things with Husband are good and despite a disdain for my job and the constant critiques of my dear sweet Mother, life is going pretty good for me.

Life is also good for Tia Mowery who gave birth last year to her son Cree. She and her husband did what most new parents do and took so many pictures that the boy is probably still seeing spots. She also posted some pictures for her nosy, albeit loving fans. The problem is that there are haters in every group and some jerks have stooped so low as to call her precious bundle "ugly".

What!?! What would give someone the nerve to even write that is beyond me. First of all, he is not ugly, he looks like virtual out babies - confused. Confused about all the fuss and probably in the mood for a nap. I am not sure anyone who just made an appearance into only to be greeted by the power of flashbulbs from professional photographers would look any less startled. Under those conditions, he looks spectacular because he is not crying. I would be crying - a lot.

It is also not okay to ever tell a mother that her child is ugly. Ever! I would not even tell the mother of a grown man that her child is ugly. That is her child and she worked hard for the pressure of considering that child to be the most beautiful person ever to see daylight. It is one of the few perks of parenthood - total and sometime irrational bias. It is not to be messed with unless that child's life is in danger.

Tia's baby hoy is by no means ugly. He is quite cute and she will love him no matter what anyone says, but for the record I have seen an ugly baby. It was back when I worked retail and I promise you that the this child was so striking in appearance that the only thing that I could thing to say was, "(using my sugary sweet high pitched work voice) Oh you're right. That is a baby." I congratulated the mom and excused myself. Never once did I comment about that baby to anyone there. It is not my place to break a mothers heart because of my shallow socially constructed Gerber endorsed definition of what constitutes a beautiful baby.

Picking on a kid is wrong. Picking on a kid in front of his mom makes you a jerk. But a mom who puts that jerk in his place is considered a hero.

Remember that!

Found Me

It is true that your past always catches up with you. That is what I thought this afternoon when I got an envelope at work addressed to me from Planned Parenthood. A few thoughts went through my head. The first thing was a feeling of embarrassment. In my very conservative office, it is rare to get mail from such a polarizing entity. It is also because I cameo from a generation in which everyone knew what PP was, but nobody really talked about it. It was the same way with "having your period". Everyone knows, but you pretend like it is perfectly normal to take your purse with you to the bathroom.

Then I wondered if I still owed them some money and how they found me after all these years. You see, Planned Parenthood saved my life. Back in college, something happened to me that I would never wish on anyone and I was too scared and embarrassed to call my mother and tell her and my PCP was out of state. Besides, I had known him forever and I figurede he would tell my mom anyway. So, I went to the one place I knew that I could get help and be anonymous. I went to Planned Parenthood.

They gave me an exam, took blood, pap, and answered all my questions. They never made me feel awkward or like a bad person. They never questioned my status as a victim. They just treated me like a patient and more importantly, they treated me like an adult. They are the one who wrote me the Rx for my souvenir of that terrible night and they let me know they were there should I ever need them again.

I will always be grateful to them, but I was pretty sure that I had paid for those services and that was at least a decade ago. I have gotten married and changed my name since then. I have moved at least three times since then. How on earth could they have found me? What kind of Google search did they do to locate me? Is the new head of collections a former CIA agent? Is this the billing version of "Cold Case". I got tired of speculating and decided to open the letter.

In it I found a letter instead of a bill and it outlined all the ways people in government and religious organizations are coming against them and preventing them from performing the same services that helped me all those years ago. I was amazed. I just cannot understand why people would want to do that. I realized that I have to do something to give back to the organization that did so much for me.

They gave me hope me hope during one of my darkest times (something for which I will always be grateful). The least I can do is give a check. The thing is, I had almost forgotten all about them until I got that letter.

Funny how the past never seems to stay behind.

Update

Today was definitely an "I hate my job kind of day". So imagine how excited I was to get call from one of the places I interviewed with this Friday. The woman on the other end of the phone asked me a few questions and let me know that she would probably want me to come in another day.

I asked one of the questions that was overlooked in my interview. I hope I am not the only one who comes up with a million after the fact questions. Then I asked the question I was told only she could answer. I asked about salary and she gave it to me straight. My contracted hourly pay would be double what I am making now. Woo Hoo!

Only, she did not offer me the job. She called to tell me he would probably call me back in. It was an update call telling me to expect an update call. What? I have never had that happen before. I did not know what to do with my feelings of excitement. All that build up and nothing to show for it. Grrr.

I was at least excited that they called.

There may be hope for me yet.

Blocked Love Lessons

So....I went to write today and found out that the site has been blocked by the IT guy.

Really? What am I supposed to do now? WORK!?!

I can't believe this. I am not sure how much longer I can keep this going. Every time I find I little piece of happiness, they find a way to take it from me.

I guess it is a good thing that I have an interview on coming up. I hope they like me, like for real-for real like me because this place has even turned my computer into a prison.

As usual, I have started ranting and lost sight of my topic. Here is what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted by my "Blocked" Error...

My friends and I have spent a great deal of time lately talking about love and relationships. New relationship and the hope of one to come for Jigga and Mallow. The loss of one for Lotus and the quirks of the ever enduring love that JJ Santana rubs in our faces. It got me to thinking and questioning what I really know about love. I spend a LOT of time talking about it and I am certainly in it, but do I actually have any valuable wisdom to share? Turns out, I do.

I have learned many things about both love and relationships from the women in my family and I thought that I would share a couple here with you all.

From Sister:
If a man proposes, you can say, "No", but if you wear the ring anyway, he WILL think that you are engaged. I also learned that it is very embarrassing to have your mother return the ring (after she took it from you) to his mother and explain that you are not going to get marry her son.

From Big Cuz:
If you are are having an argument with your boyfriend that includes the line, "Ni**a, I got more hair on my p***y (lady part) than your sister has on her head!" you know that it will end badly. So badly in fact, that this boyfriend may shoot at you. The most important thing to remember (other than to move out of the line of fire) is to ALWAYS break up with someone who shoots at you. ALWAYS!!! Even if it is just to save face in front your family and friends.

From Mother:
Don't expect the person you marry to change drastically. They will make small changes, but that crap they do that gets on your nerves now will be the same crap that gets on your nerves 20 or 30 years from now. Pick someone whose crap you can live with.

From Grandma:
"Be careful, Honey. Those boys are all after one thing."
(Inner Thoughts- Oh my God is my grandma going to talk to me about sex. This cannot be happening) Me: What Grandma?
"They are always trying to be kissing. Don't you just go around kissing. Understood"
Me: No kissing. Got it.

I did not really follow that last piece, but she is just so cute that I had to include her. What I really learned from my grandma was to be careful about falling in love with the bad boy. She married hers and it took him about 45 years to reform. My mother married one and it took him about 25. I watched, I listened and I learned. I met and married mine, but not until he was already mellowed out. It was a good lesson to learn.

Class dismissed.

New Plan

I am tired of waiting for life to become what I want it to be. I am sick of hearing about it all coming together for me one day and all that jazz. I realize that I am not "knocking on death's door" old, but I don't have forever to keep waiting.

I am tired of waiting for my kids to go away or me to have energy or for them to become older to get my house cleaned. So, yesterday I met with a consultant and someone will be coming to my house every other week to "for real" clean my house.

I am tired of hoping that my mother, sister, or one of my friends will want to watch my children so that husband and I can take a moment to remember why we liked each other enough to even have children. I now have a regular sitter and one back up sitter.

I want to enjoy right now as much as possible. I know that I am not yet a multi-millionaire, but I am tired of living below my happiness level. I have been poor and it was not that bad. We still did things and had a good time. I have never felt as "poor" as when I stopped being poor. What did I wait all that time for if I am not going to enjoy some of what I worked for?

It reminds me of something my father said to me when I was about 15. He had turned 55 (I may have been 20 and he may have been 60, but lets not get caught up in the details) and had just become eligible for Social Security. He rushed to fill out his forms and submit them. He told me that he would not get the same amount as he would if he waited. I wondered why he would not want to wait and collect more. (He clearly didn't need the money. Considering, the fact that he has been comfortably retired since I was 11.) He turned and looked me square in the eye and in the most matter-of=fact tone made it plain for me.

"I am a black man with high blood pressure and diabetes. I put in on this and am getting all I can before it is too late."

We both laughed, I get that now. I am not going to keep waiting to collect on my happiness. I suggest you don't either.

Back To School

I can't wait to be one of those people who loves their job. I want to speed down the highway because I am so excited to go to work that I can't bring myself to obey the speed limit. Today was not that magical day I dream of. Today was rainy and I am still going to the same job that makes it hard for me to break 60 mph.

This week also marks the countdown to LoLo's 4th birthday and return to school. He is not excited about either one and that is mostly my doing. I never discuss his upcoming birthday and have only touched upon going back to school. The reason is simple and self-serving. Anyone with kids can tell you that telling your child something in advance will only serve to make you crazy because you will spend the rest your time from the moment they find out to the moment it happens answering, "Is it my birthday/Christmas/time for school yet?" and that gets old fast.

All holidays are a surprise at my house and Husband (who has just a touch of Scrooge in him) happily goes along with it. We never ask him what he wants because as anyone with kids can attest, they have already told you. After watching 8 million Power Rangers episodes in the last 3 weeks and watching him battle imaginary monsters as the Red Ranger, I feel that I can safely say that he would be happy with something Power Ranger related- preferably Red Ranger related and not to sound heartless, but at 4 years old, who cares what he wants. He is only going to change his mind about his new favorite thing next month.

When did we start letting our kids run our lives based on their feelings. New flash- feelings are temporary. Your kid will get over having his/her feelings hurt. You are the one who keeps holding on to it and if they don't get over it, that is what therapy is for. It is your job as a parent to prepare them for life and most people in life don't care about hurting your feelings. Husband just started working as an educator and they have all these rules and stipulations to prevent the kids from getting a bruise on their delicate egos. Whatever! Sometimes you need to get your feelings hurt. Some people need a wake up call to realize they need to get their act together and it is better to get it at 8 compared with 38 or worse, 68.

I understand that we don't want our kids to be bullied or hurt, but honor roll is not bullying. If your name is not up there that means you need to do better. You did not make the team because you were not good enough this time. Try harder and come back. My major problem is that by protecting the weak we are dismissing the strong. What incentive is there in being on the Dean's List if nobody knows. What is the point is trying if there is no reward. That is how most smart kids think.

Example: I was in 3rd grade when I realized that math teacher put the answers to the homework on the board before collecting it. That was the last day I did my homework at home for that class. Why do it myself if I could just copy it and get the same number of points. Smart kids know how to work a system and not going to do things that have no value.

My son is one of those kids and so I send him to private school so that he can get the tough love that my tax dollars refuse to supply. Yes, they tell him how smart he is, but they also threaten to send him home for being in violation of the dress code. They compliment him for being handsome, but they have a Honor Board and he knows when his name is not on it. He wants to be on the board and he works for that.

I am the same way. I see the writing on the wall regarding my current job and you know what it says to me? "Do Better!" That is just what I am going to try to do. It is not going to be handed to me. I am going to have to work for it.

He looks forward to going back to school and he is really excited because he knows that sometime this year he will turn 4. He knows his birthday, but time stands still in our house (no calendars, only 1 clock. It is like Vegas) so he has no idea when. This plan can't last forever, but...

I plan to enjoy the surprise while I can.

Job Hunting

I just applied to 2 more jobs. In the last 3 weeks, I have probably applied to at least a dozen different jobs and even inquired about some volunteer work to get my name out there and foot in the door. So far, no good. It is frustrating and disheartening to thing that I can't seem to catch a break in this one area of my life.

I am sure that I am not the only person who thinks that job hunting sucks. It brings all your insecurities to the surface and makes even the most competent person question their value. It is like being in line for gym class basketball and you just keep hoping to hear your name called. "Pick me, pick me." I would love to work for you. I am never late. I love tedium. I really think your company is special. It is just ridiculous. It is like the job is the hot girl in the bar and we all come with our best pick up lines. She knows they are terrible lines, but you keep trying them until one works and you get hired. "Hey Group Leader Level 4, are your feet tired because you've been running through my mind all day."

It is really hard for me to feel comfortable complaining because my life is pretty great. I have almost everything that I ever thought that I wanted. I am not in my ideal locale, but even that aspect of my life is not too shabby. My current job, on paper at least, would be great also if I no plans to do something else with my life. I have one of those jobs that make you comfortable because so little is asked of you and you wake up one day 25 years later and retire. That is all some people want in life, but as the new guy they just added to staff answers his phone on speaker for the 10th time today, I realize...

One more resume won't hurt.

I would first like to thank MSN.com for totally ruining any hope of my being surprised by the Olympic broadcast. Way to go! I am glad I was not saving myself.

Thankfully for you, that is not my focus for today. I have decided to show some love to one of my favorite blogs by reposting from Georgia Mae: http://www.georgiamae.com/2012/08/love-letters-is-it-ok-for-men-to-look.html. I love it and I hope you will too.

Why is it so hard to leave a bad relationship if the physical part is so good?

WB

People who remain in bad relationships for sex remind me of kids who want ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Kids don't have a concept of healthy well-being and only want to indulge in what tastes good. Kids don't know any better. Adults should.

It's all about self-gratification. I can't tell you how many women (and men!) have told me that the only good thing in their relationship is the sex. They cling to that one positive aspect of and become obsessed with it, while everything else crumbles around them. The dater then gets more concerned with "getting theirs" instead of building a partnership. Sex BECOMES the relationship. There's no need to leave as long as the main focus - sex - is in the forefront. But once that sex dries up it's easy to see how hollow and desolate things have become.

If the only nourishment in your relationship is a steady diet of sex, sooner or later, you're gonna be in a lot of pain. Ask the kid with the ice cream.

Image via

Sorry Kristen

I just realized that I owe Kristen Stewart an apology. No, it is not because I have jumped on the hate bandwagon. Although, I don't agree with what she did, I also think that is perfectly normal behavior for someone her age. I quite frankly don't understand why everyone is so surprised that a young person, who has been in such an intense and high pressure relationship, would want to taste some other flavors in the ice cream shop. You are supposed to date when you are her age, not move and virtual marry- date. It is okay to date more than one person. If at 22, I had tried to move in with a guy and be that serious my mother would have had me committed right after the prayer vigil. They got together when she was 19. She is entitled to explore other options.

My only point of contention is that she picked someone married and tried to pull a fast one on her guy.

My apology has nothing to do with the fall out, however. I apologize because if not for me and people like me she would have never gotten caught. My bad, Kris. It was nothing personal. I say this because I realized this morning that people like me are the reason that the paparazzi exist. I am an avid reader of People Magazine. I have a subscription to Us Weekly. (I don't know how I got it, but it keeps showing up at my house with my name on it.) I read all manner of stories. I read them not because I am that interested in celebrity or even because I think their day to day is so fascinating. I read it because when I am at work I am usually either bored or procrastinating. I can even do both at the same time. This boredom leads me to surf the web and that leads me to random star sightings and fashion police and the like.

It is because people like me look and read that Kristen has to worry about guys in bushes with sports camera lens. They are the reason pregnant Drew Barrymore can't buy coffee in peace and Hugh Jackman hasn't had a picture with his shirt on in months. That is totally my fault and for that I apologize. It is not that I think the day to day life of a celebrity is really that much more interesting than anyone else's. I have had coworkers who have had affairs and other drama, but nobody is following them and giving me daily updates on their mess. They only do that for famous people. So, I read about famous people.

This awareness of my role does not lead me to want to change. The alternative would be for me to spend more time working and that is just not going to happen. I just feel like I should shoulder some the responsibility. I am sorry that I made cheating, coffee runs, doctor visits and shopping excursions so hard for the rich and famous, especially you K. Stew.

You're welcome, Rob!