Gold Status

Once upon a time, I got a new job.  Well it's not that new anymore,  but I am only 7 months in.  This job requires travel, which I am perfectly fine with.  I've been traveling to...wait for it...Oklahoma City.  If you haven't been here, but you have been to Texas, it's about the same, only smaller.  A big focus seems to be the perks of travel (according to my colleagues) and this is the part when I tell you that I have reached GOLD status at the Marriott. 

I have almost 100,000 points already.  With a Marriott credit card and 3 nights a week in a Marriott for the last 12 weeks,  you accumulate points pretty quickly.  I think I get free internet access now too.  I am almost to GOLD on American Airlines.  I don't know what perk that is going to get me, other than boarding before the commoners.  I literally live in the back of a plane.  It has made me extremely patient when de-boarding.  I mean, you can't really plow to the front, although I have imagined it in my mind.  I have a learned a few things while working in Oklahoma.  People like you to ask how their weekend was.  They like friendly people, which I typically am.  The mullet hasn't left.  I saw a woman with tennis shoes on with pantyhose and flash-backed to the 80's.  When I first arrived, I was pretty much hoping to meet a rich oil man who would allow me to live the life of leisure, similar to my mom.  Alas, I did meet an MMA fighter, who looks like "The Thing" from the fantastic 4 made of all rock.  Sadly, he has a girlfriend.  This said girlfriend has 4 children.  The hunt continues...plus, he is basically the boss of me.  He reminds me a little of Vin Diesel, and hence that is what I shall call him, Vin, to protect the innocent, plus he is a lot more intelligent.  

However, if he pulls up in a muscle car, I know I would die laughing on the street, especially if he ever recites the following, "I don't have friends, I have family," or "I live my life a quarter mile at a time. Nothing else matters, not the mortgage, not the store,  not my team, and all their bullshit,  For those 10 seconds or less, I am free."  That would totally be fine if I were 23.  The most amusing part, was when someone here at the client site spotted us doing something suspicious such as walking, talking, attending meetings and eating lunch.  We weren't inter-locking arms and drinking champagne flutes in the food court, although that would make my afternoon fly by if we did.  This mystery person told Vin's girlfriend.  You know what I felt?  Absolutely no guilt.  I have not crossed any line, except maybe buying him a brass knuckle mug as a thank you.  Regardless, we aren't planning a trip to a bed and breakfast.  

So back at the ranch, (my house), I have decided to take up dating again.  It sounds like a hobby doesn't it?  Do you feel like this is a revolving door?  Yea, me too, and it's my life.  My running buddy, gave me some advice and it was to try.  Maybe she happened to have good timing, because that weekend, I signed up for Match.com, and then a few weeks later, Coffee Meets Bagel, and then Tinder.  I figured I might as well hit it hard.  Go big or go home as they say.  I think this was in like June.  Fast forward to October when I actually get some dudes in the queue.  It takes time to fill a pipeline or it takes me time to fill a pipeline.  So I meet one guy on Coffee Meets Bagel.  He is a teacher that looks crazy.  His crazy, is what I found amusing and flattery will get you everywhere with me.  So he texted me and then texted me some more.  That is the conclusion of this story.  That's all she wrote.  Text messaging.  Then, it just stopped.  I tried.  I did.  But at this point, I really need someone to make an effort with me.  A time, a place, a plan for crying out-loud.   When I make an effort, it seems like I am the only one making the effort, and I am plum worn out.  Maybe my typical, I am all in, is what is sabotaging my relationships.  Maybe I just need to be harder to get. So Bagel has missed the boat with me.  If he were to text me again, I might even text back, "who dis?"  I am tempted, really tempted.  

Onto the next guy, he showed promise early on.  He has a similar job to me, where he travels during the week.  It has to do with some hospital equipment and wiring.  Literally, he has talked about it to me for several hours of my life and I am still not sure exactly what he does.  It also appears he works with less than competent people.   Some of the perks in the beginning included that he seemed financially sound.  He even bought some land on Lake Texoma...for his art supplies.  Imagine a car screeching to a stop.  Art supplies?  What?  Next question, do you like sports, specifically hockey?  No...a little part of me died that day.  If you know me, then you know I need a guy's guy.  The perks started to fade for me.  Add the following: his brother lives with him because he is divorced, he is 47, which is 10 whole years older than me, and his voice reminds me of a character from the Simpsons.  I am not trying to be mean, but once the voice is in your head, it's in your head.  Fast forward, he asks me to dinner.  I say yes.  I made myself a rule of you can go on one damn date Diana.  One date won't kill you.  Fast forward to said date.  I hardheartedly put forth first date effort.  I curled my hair, put my face on, and did not pick out jeans.  SIDEBAR: Once upon a time, I assumed the date would be jeans worthy (back in college) and I failed...and I failed miserably.  Henceforth, I overdress unless it is discussed prior.  I had a lovely blue silk shirt and some flow-y pants, matched with flat shoes.  SIDEBAR:  I am wearing heels from now on.  I can't help I drank enough milk as a kid.  This fool showed up in an olive green knitted t-shit.  It didn't have a front pocket or a clever saying, not that that would have made it acceptable, but I would have been at least amused.  He also wore jeans, and even in my flat shoes, I was taller.  FAIL.  5'11 my ass.  We went to Pappadeaux.  He gets no points for creativity.  NONE.  Goose egg for him.  However, I ran 11 miles, let me  rephrase that, I was dragged 11 miles that morning.  I would have eaten a snapping lobster out of the tank with my bare hands at that point.  

I got blackened Mahi Mahi with dirty rice (the smaller portion).  He gets stuffed shrimp of which he eats with his hands.  There is a fork and knife nearby, but hell, it's a first date, pretend you are eating chicken wings, what do I care?  He talked about work, I nodded.  We order dessert (I burned 5,000 calories, stop judging me), and he talks about work.  I check my watch, he talks about work.  Then he goes, "are you ready to go?"  I'll be damned if the ceiling didn't open at that very moment and church music started to play.  I snap to and he walks me to my car.  I say thank you, hug, and scene!  

Stay Tuned for a new date story...

The End.

It's Always Something

Once upon a time, I started to get a cold.  I am super mad about this because I got the flu shot.  To top things off, I told all the people at work who are sick that I was invincible.   This was probably my downfall.  So what the heck?  Well there are a couple of reasons how this could have happened.

1) the flu shot is b.s.
2) my gaybor infected me
3) sick people come to work
4) I ran out of my multivitamins 3 days ago...and here we are.

I really hate being sick.  I hate that I am always out of the good tissue my mom gets me.  It's the one with lotion.  Yes...I too thought, it wouldn't make a difference.  But, it does.  If you have to blow your nose 1 million times, the lotion makes it tolerable.  I am always out of chicken soup.  ALWAYS.  Why don't I stock up on this?  Because when I get better, I don't need soup and I think, well I am all better.  Ta da. I am also out of out of the over the counter medicine or it is expired.  I just found some ZICAM that expired in 2012.  Really?  I could have sworn I had some Dayquil or something, but no.

It gets worse.  TRAGEDY STRUCK...so I go to the fridge to get something to drink and my foot is wet.  I am like hmmm.  What did I spill?  But it looks like a moat around the front of my fridge.  Well the damn freezer is not working.  How do I know?  Well the Popsicle are dripping, the food is half thawed and I am swearing up a storm.  I am literally a few hundred dollars from being totally out of debt.

I call my gaybor, the funny one, and he was like you can't refreeze that stuff or you will  basically die.  So now I have to cook a massive amount of food.  For starters, 3 chicken breasts, and like 24 veggie sausages, shrimp, spinach and green beans.

Seriously?

NOW, I have to look for a new fridge.  Luckily the freezer is the part not working.  I went through several envelopes of money and well I have about half of what I need in cash.  I am just mad.

It's always something.  I mean, why couldn't the freezer break AFTER my bonus comes?  That would be too easy!

Like I said, it's always something...

The End.

A Little Reflection...

Once upon a time...they say, some years are better than others.  I don't know who says that, but I know I've heard it.  The saying is rather accurate for me.  This year started off alright, not great, but all right.  I started a new job, I booked a trip to the Dominican Republic, I had a break up, and those were the highlights.  My motivation is blah.  

Work is work.  Being in the HR field has taught me that, I hate people.  I told my co-worker that.  It is gratifying to help someone and see that you made a difference.  However, I would say most of the time, I am sitting in my office in disbelief because people are ridiculous.  Several people were written up for conduct, or as I like say, "acting a fool."  In what world, does cussing out your boss seem like a good idea?  Some days, I get home and I am out of words.  I have used all the words in that day for me.  I get home and I need an hour for decompression.  I used to ask my dad what he did all day.  He used to say, "I listen to people's problems all day long."  Well I am my father's daughter...

The Dominican was lovely.  I went with Hollywood.  In her, I will always have a travel buddy.  We went deep sea fishing and although I credit myself as having an iron stomach, I was hurling off the side of the boat. I burned my hands and I am not sure I even had to pee the entire day.  I did really like jumping off a cliff into a cave of cold water on an excursion and riding in a dune buggy through a muddy path.  The food was well...terrible.  My stomach was glad to return to the states, which was an emergency trip to Whataburger straight from the airport.    

The break-up was frustrating for a variety of reasons.  Relationships have swells, that go up and down.  However, sometimes I find myself in the same relationship each time.  I guess they call that a pattern.  The last 2 relationships ended at Starbucks.  I think that will remain my "go to" place.  I never felt like I wasn't clear from the start, but as they say, the honeymoon period wears off and reality sets in.  I think the greatest disappointment was that is was just fine with this guy.   I mean, I crafted my words carefully, I had a few main points and I got them all out.  The response was astonishing, it was, "yup, you're right."  As soon as that was said, I was kicking myself for not doing it 6 months earlier, when my gut told me to.  I think sometimes you hang on because of the fear of starting over.  My mom always said, when you find the right one, it won't be work.  I am wondering when that day will come, if at all.   

I have hope of course.  But this next time around...you better bring something to the damn table.  

Naturally, writing about dating should be enticing to my followers in the new year.  I hope to eat some Chilean sea bass, 86 the asparagus...

The End.

What a Woman Wants...

Once upon a time I got a text message.  Here is the website that I would like to share, and then state the female's perspective.

http://www.rooshv.com/its-the-boner-stupid

This article states there is a barrier between the sexes.  I completely agree.  It shares how women are killing the men's boner.

Well men are also killing the big "O" for women!

Let me review some big "O" killers:

• Obesity
• Careerism (assuming the women should work AND take care of the home, but you don't)
• Shaving the entire body thinking women like that (this one doesn't)
• Talking too much about politics
• Calling out women's cooking when she is learning and at least trying to get better at it
• Addiction to iPhones
• Being promiscuous because it's OK for a man to be, but not a woman
• Obsession with 1950's women
• Lack of education

I am sure there are more, but this is a short list.

1. “By eating this cupcake, even though I’m already 20 pounds overweight, will I increase a woman's big "O" or expect her to only eat salads or decrease it? DECREASE.  Put the buffalo wings down.  You should eat a damn salad too!

2. “If I work and buy you nice things then keep working.  DECREASE.  If you want me to cook dinner, keep a house clean and raise children, then make more MONEY so we can survive on 1 salary. YOURS.

3. “If I put on shorts in the middle of winter, will I increase a woman's big "O" or decrease it?” DECREASE. Put some damn jeans on, it's fricking cold outside moron!

4. “If I’m on a first date with a man and I pay and or expect to go dutch, will it increase her big "O" or decrease it?” DECREASE.  Pony up the dough and we might want to pay the next time.  This includes fun dates and travel.

5. “We’re about to have sex but I’m feeling insecure that he thinks he will leave right after and never call. Will saying ‘I don’t usually do this’ increase a woman's big "O" or decrease it?” DECREASE.  Stay and make breakfast.

If a man wants a a good woman, he must cease and desist big "O" killing behaviors and start performing big "O" enhancing behaviors. Many men of the world understand this piece of advice and take care of the woman's car maintenance, open the damn door, and pick up the check.

They say men want a traditional woman, but expect them to work and have two jobs, one outside the home and one maintaining the home.  Men want kids at some point, but they want you to take care of the majority of things, doctor's appointments, sporting events and clothes shopping. Plus, after all of that, they want the refrigerator stocked and a home cooked meal and their dry cleaning picked up and their laundry done.  

I would really like to see a man work 60 hours a week and then also tend to a household and children.  It couldn't be done.  Do you know why?  Men cannot plan.  They don't use a calendar, they don't think ahead, they just expect it.  However, if we would like a bit of help or the ability to stay home, that is a crime.  

Just a thought.  

The End.

How to Make a Friend...

Once upon a time, I was told to write about how to make friends, because for me, it's easy.  I thought, maybe I can do that.

Step 1:

Talk to people.  It's almost like dating.  You have to see if you like that person right?  Or why would you waste your time talking to someone.  I could be at a party and know only the person throwing it and make 5 friends.  I can talk, when I want to.  I can also listen too.  ACTIVELY.  

Step 2:

Find something in common.  So people who tend to be friends, tend to have things in common.  I am from up north, and I tend to gravitate to people who are from the mid-west.  Now I am not saying ALWAYS.  It's just easy to relate to.  I do know some people from the South.  Even some who were born in Texas.  You can pick these people out right away.  They have a draw to their speech and they tell you that Texas is the greatest country ever.  But this person could also go to Asia concerts with you too.  It really doesn't matter, but having things in common makes it easy.  Maybe your favorite phrase is, "SUCK IT."  Maybe their favorite phrase is the same.  Bond!! 

Step 3:

Make a Connection.  Ask for that person's number, face-book, twitter account, email, WHATEVER. Pick one.  If you like this person, and you want to get to know them, then you have to make contact.  

Step 4:

CALL the person.  What?  I know, what a concept.  How are you going to make a friend if you don't make plans? Bingo.  Make some plans.  Go for coffee, a cocktail, a movie.  It's easy.  I swear.

Step 5:

You have a new friend.  So friendship works 2 ways.  You have to call and they have to call.  I find this to be a MUST.  Now, I am going to tell you a few other things about friendship that you will need to know once you make a friend.

Just because you don't talk daily, it doesn't mean you don't have a friend.  I have an old roommate from college and I can go 6 months without talking to her.  But when she calls, or when I call, it's like we have never been apart.  We catch up on each other's lives.  We always call on each other's birthday and send a gift.  While we aren't on the phone, I type and SNAIL mail her letters.  She loves this.  I love to write them.  She says she always sits, and laughs and then emails me.  A friend will get mad at you.  No body is perfect right?  I mean sometimes, even I do dumbass things.  Now let me clarify a little bit.  There are friends, that you have a connection with, and then there are the top 5.  The top 5 is the people in your close circle.  You talk the most, and you probably see them the most.  They are the ones you call when you are sad, call when you wreck your car, and call when you want to stab someone at work just because.  I always have a top 5.  Now some people move in and out of the top 5, but at any given time I have a top 5.  If you want to test that top 5.  Call them when you REALLY need them, and see what happens.

This is the part where I tell you what is supposed to happen!!!

What should happen is they drop whatever, and come to your aid.  They drag you out of the house for a pedicure.  The fly to Kentuckana at the drop of a hat.  They text and call you to make sure you aren't hanging from the ceiling fan.  They take you out for a cocktail or 10, but best of all, they ARE THERE when you need them.  Hands down.  Have a crisis and you will see who stands next to you.  

Why Are We Always in a Hurry?

Doesn't it feel like we are always in a hurry?  I am not talking about just day to day, but in life.  I blame society.  Sometimes I feel like I am so behind.  I am not complaining about my AWESOME life, but sometimes, just sometimes I need to vent a little.  

So this is how it starts...you are in high school.  The first rush to life is this, "have you picked a college?"  The pressure is to go to college and learn something.  The problem is when you get there you don't really know what you are interested in.  Some people do, like the nurses and the doctors, they seem to have it figured out much sooner then the rest of us.  So you go to college and then you have to pick a major.  For me, I didn't pick a major until I was about a junior.  They forced me to pick.  So I picked psychology, because I liked it.  But thankfully my dad said, well if you want to get a job, you better minor in business or something.  At the time, I wanted to work with people and do something to help others.  If I could go back in time, I should have majored in IT or Accounting.  Both really don't deal with people too much, but a little.  At 35, I know EXACTLY what I want.  I want to fly all over the country and tell people what to do, and then they DO IT.  I don't want any employees, I want to  be an individual contributor.  I want to make more dang money.  I know that money doesn't solve the world's problems.  For me, I just want to catch up, catch up with Miss Italian Accountant, my wise friend - Miss Ford Focus, or my dad.    

So you get a job, and you start at the bottom.  You learn that there are stereotypes and politics and bureaucracy.  Nothing prepares you for that.  You walk in idealistic.  You can change the world.  You have the answers.  A good friend of mine, Mrs. Jones (ironic because we both, truly love Bridget Jones' Diary)  She married a Jones, isn't that crazy?  Ok, back to the story, she was and is 5 years older than me.  I met her, and she said to me, "You are so idealistic, I give you 5 years before you become cynical."  At the time, I was a mere 22 and she was 28, on her way to 30.  My boss at the time, treated me like the 4th kid in her family. I hated it, I wanted to be treated like a grown up.   I laughed when she said it to me.  Then, I hit 28, 29 and 30 and I got it.  I really got it.  I wasn't green anymore.  

My next job, is where I loved the people, I was still the youngest in the office.  With that, I brought fun, pranks, and a genuine knowledge of how to treat employees and what a thank you really mean.  My past employees, are people I consider my second family.  I miss them every day that I go to work at my current job.  They were kind, and loyal, and they still are. Eventually, I got bored. Not with the people, with the job itself.  I did lots of different things, and each day was different but I wasn't moving up.  All during this time, one particular Ninja who worked in the warehouse kept asking me, "when are you going to settle down? when are you going to stop partying and have a family and some babies, tick tock, tick tock."  At the time, I was dating the shingle boyfriend, as I like to call him.  He brought nothing to the table.  WHATSOEVER.  My dad literally broke out into painful shingles because he didn't like this guy for me.  In the end, he and my mom were right.  Right again, I should say.  I just hadn't found someone that completed me in the right way.  Everyone I worked with was married, some had 6 dang kids, but there wasn't any prospects for me.  I think I tried every dating tactic known to man.  I combed the gym, the grocery store, the local happy hours, my friends who had friends.  Nothing.  I tried dating online for the better part of a decade.  But at work, I wanted to move up.  Get promoted, run the show.  But I was stuck.  I worked with lots of men, ALL sales men.  

So my gaybors talked me into grad school.  Within the week, I was enrolled.  This should do it, this should catapult me to the top.  I was and am good with people, I am smart, I listen and I have a million good ideas.  Not the one to have my own business yet, but still a bunch of good ideas.  Plus, I had to go to grad school or I would be the black sheep in my immediate family.  Even my brother has a masters in art, of which he doesn't use, and he doesn't paint anymore.

So for me, I want everything to fall into place NOW.  I am tired of waiting.  I am tired of having a job that doesn't make me happy.  I am tired of searching for a job that WILL make me happy.  I am tired of getting up super early and getting home super late.  I am mad at the gym because they don't have classes that work around my schedule.  I miss cycling with Dr. Mom who does it all and keeps me in awe.  When I feel overwhelmed, I think well Dr. Mom does way more than me, so suck it up!  

So finally, finally at the ripe age of 30-something, I met this great guy...he is starting to look like this.  He doesn't have a mustache, because if he did, it might be white.  Remember, he had a gray hair at 10 years old, or so he claims.

So he changed jobs, and that is great, but I am also like HURRY UP!!!  It can be what are we doing this weekend?  and then my demand takes off to where are you going in life?  am I going forward with you? and can you tell me when that will be? A date?  A time? An estimate?  We are taking our first trip to Viva Las Vegas in December.  He has never been.  I am like WHAT?  

I have been given permission from Miss Silky Hair Cowgirl that I can go buck wild.  She is my tall building travel companion.  I mean really wild, because the men will be there to react or make sure we don't end up in jail.  I can't guarantee that I won't be dancing on a stage, singing Tom Jones.  I can also not guarantee that I won't be in body glitter for 4 days either. You know body glitter goes with everything especially in Vegas.

So at this point, I guess I am waiting for A VACATION, which will have to do for now...

Mom = AWESOME, and You Better RECOGNIZE!

Once upon a time, I came to the realization that being a mom is a hard job.  Perhaps I never full appreciated until NOW.  So my mom is the ideal picture of what a mom should be (in my opinion).  This is her below...well close enough.

Now my mom is a cross between June Cleaver and Martha Stewart.  That is what I tell people.  A few things you should know about MY mom.  She always has her face on,  unless she is deathly ill.  She is an exquisite cook, although I have no talent in the art, but read the cook book she gave me like the Bible of the kitchen.  She is smart, independent and sweet like honey.  She is creative and crafty, which I am also not.  Now, currently she is a lady of leisure, which I strive to be and which after yesterday, she has definitely earned.  However, she is always there when you need someone to visit the house at some ridiculous window of 12PM-5PM.  She has saved me on many occasions.  Plus, she has already decorated her house for Halloween.  I think I would CRY if she ever stopped.

Now just recently, my boyfriend had his daughters to my house.  I was paying one of them to scrape glue off my hardwood living room floor.  That is an entirely different story however.  So then, I hear, "I am hungry..."  I am like oh yea, kids have to be fed.  Then, the panic sets in.  I have basically wine, mayo and yogurt in the fridge, not really much for a meal.  So I run down a couple options.  Taco Soup, Chicken ala King...Basically my 5 meals that I can cook well.  They squint, and pause and groan.  I am like SANDWICHES or better yet panini's.  You really can't go wrong with a sandwich.  So guess who is going to the store?  I tell the lovely boyfriend that I will pick up Chicken, Pesto and some ice cream.  Does the lovely boyfriend offer any funds?  No.  Do I care? Well not until the end when I have $6.00 for the week...but that comes later.  So I tell him I am going to head to Albertson's.  He sighs and says their chicken is kinda eh.  I almost had to choke him out.  I only chose that store because it is next to the Marble Slab where I had just then purchased a groupon to pick up some fancy ice cream.  He is a cake-eater about food and only shops at Costco.  I can often get a few things there, but I don't grocery shop there unless its for 2 things I need in great quantity 1) WINE, 2) I am having a damn party with a minimum of 10 people.

So the boyfriend cooks some bacon in the oven.  So I run to the store in hurry.  Forget band-aids and kitty food which is what I really need to get.  But when you are in a hurry, those things are a second though.  So I get the food, SIDEBAR: see Apple Cider, pick that up because it's fall and I LOVE IT.  Then I head to the ice cream store, pick  up a ridiculous amount of ice cream because the neighbors might come over, (BUT THEN THEY DO NOT).  Which actually is fine by the end of the evening.  I come home, pull out tortas (fancy, stiff bread) out of the freezer, and begin to prep.  I am thawing bread.  Then, I said are you ready to grill the chicken, boyfriend states, "yes," then I am the one pulling out the grill.  WHAT?  So I cut open the chicken and he is in the spice cupboard and he is pulling out the lemon pepper.  He was like, "how old is this?"  The cake-eater returns.  I am like it's old, what I don't tell him is that is about 8 years old and you don't really buy spices when you don't cook.  I have the important spices, Cajun whatever, and GARLIC.  Oh and food coloring.  Who doesn't love food coloring???  I digress.  So I find some steak seasoning that is relatively fresh, and by that I mean about a 1 year old or so, give or take.  He dumps the lemon pepper and uses that.  Now, since the bacon was cooking, the house was hot, and smells like Mineral Spirits a lovely chemical of death.  So the chicken cooks, oh and I also got a bonus package of chicken.  Not on purpose, but the idiot check out guy was hurrying me and apparently wanted the fastest scan time in all the land, so when I was ready to go, I grabbed the bags and dashed out.  Well I got someone's family pack of chicken...

So anyways, I am prepping the sandwiches and I had also picked up some candy for the girls.  They are fighting because they can't seem to share.  I am like yes, I recall this.  And then, THEN, I reflect on my mom.  My poor mom.  I bet she wanted to kill me and my brother half the time.  I mean, at that moment I thought, I should have slapped her a high five for kicking ass at raising me.  She could have choked me.  She didn't.  

So since the girls are hungry, they are secretly snatching bits of bacon which was in a bowl to put on the sandwiches.  I don't really notice, I had a small piece, whatever.  So finally after 3 hours or so the damn chicken is cooked.  Now it is good like always but it was also thick and took a while to cook.  The boyfriend then gripes about my dull knives and cuts like one chicken breast because the other fat ones are still cooking.  (I cut the rest...and try not to think of Slasher Halloween movies in the process)  I prepare the girl's sandwiches first.  Plain.  No pesto, no spice, nothing.    So I make one and cut it in half, bring out the chips and put it on the table which I have expanded.  Then the fighting begins.  I am like just split it and then when the next one is ready, you can split that.  Good grief.  Oh and don't worry, there is no bacon for the last 2 sandwiches...So they don't sit at the table but are up and about.  Whatever.  Then the lovely boyfriend threatens them and that if one doesn't sit down, he will eat the sandwich.  So of course that happens and you would have thought we were about to go though a shortage of food like the depression.  She is whining...again.  So the older sister gives her hers and then what happens, you guessed it.  They eat like half of the half of sandwich.  Awesome.  They leave their plates at the table and go back to using their smart device...Meanwhile, I am finishing the third sandwich and the boyfriend is now eating without me.  This is a cardinal sin in my book.  You don't do that.  He realizes it, apologies, but it's too late.  I am hot, irritated and no longer hungry.  I remember when my mom would cook and she would be tasting what she was making and then by the end, not be hungry.  That is where I was.  But maybe, just maybe, it was because she was irritated and wanted to kill us...I was quiet and mad, and the man knew it.  He is pretty gracious with what can he do better?  But by then, I had to really think.  Am I crabby, tired and mad?  Or do I need to start World War III.  Eh, I went with tired.  I cleaned the entire kitchen, scrubbed dishes and loaded the dishwasher.  BEATING.  What happened to I cook and you clean?  

So the kit and caboodle leave and the man calls me and what happened?  He forgot the organic chemistry book (don't ask), the leftover sandwiches, and the Red box movie.  Then he said, yea, can drop that off, referring to the movie.  It was like re-igniting the fire.  I got off the phone shortly after.  Then, I was up.  I was awake, so I watched some TV, then more TV, and then I really couldn't sleep.  I had a hangry headache (DEFINITION OF HANGRY: ANGER FUELED BY HUNGER).  So needless to say, this girl needed a day off.  The morale of the story is this, being a MOM must be tough.  I am not a mom, but now I sympathize a bit.  I should call my mom and thank her for not killing me as a kid.  She's great.  

The End.