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.

The Worst Boss EVER

Once upon a time there was a girl deemed the smartest girl in Bedford, TX.  Well this poor girl got a new job in 2012 with all of the highest hopes in the world.  Quite honestly, she was just happy to have a job and pay her mortgage.  So this is where the story begins.  You see, she got a government job.  The benefits seems great, everyone was nice, the pay was pretty good, BUT, and that's a big BUT, it should have started at 500,000 with what she learned she was about to be putting up with.  *Evil horror movie music starts here, actually picture the shower scene from Psycho*  

There were some immediate downfalls. 

Downfall #1

The office is FAR, and not far in mileage, but FAR in how long I would have to sit in traffic.  Now, don't get me wrong, I don't drive too much or there would be dead bodies on 183E and then more dead bodies on I35E.   I am guessing I would probably lose my CHL and then they would haul me to Prison, and my friends would only be able to see me on Lock Up, the show on MSNBC Friday through Sunday.  (If you haven't seen, you will need to tape some of that action).  I take the train and pretend I live in a real city like Chicago or New York.  Luckily, it is a good time to read books and escape the dread of going to work, and then it becomes a calm place when leaving this horrible nightmare of a job.  So on top of the longest commute in the history of the world, I have to get up at the crack of dawn for.

Downfall #2

I sit in a cube where the walls aren't high enough.  It's like half walls, so everyone can see me and everyone can talk and you are just stuck in the middle.  I have no door to close, or rather no door to slam in someone's face.  

Downfall #3

There is no expense account, so I thought I came from a place where we couldn't spend too much money because it was always tight, here you literally can't spend a dime.  If you do spend a dime, it's your dime. 

Downfall #4

The attire is business.  Who does that anymore?  Oh hey, go get a suit and some panty house because it's 1970 around here.  I mean the only break you get is the summer, and I am guessing because it's 1,000 degrees out.  Or perhaps someone just dropped over of heat stroke from wearing a Men's Warehouse suit, who knows!  What I know is that I think panty hose are stupid. 

So all of that was pretty shocking to me.  But, what shocked me the most was MY boss, or should I say, the boss I think I report to right now.  The Heat Meizer.  My friend, we will call her, African Queen, painted the best picture ever.  She showed me a video and basically that describes her.  She wears linen, like a lot, it's the most wrinkled fabric known to man, or at least to me.  As soon as you sit down one time, it's like you need to bust out an iron.  I am not sure why she chooses that, but she has an entire outfit in fluorescent yellow.  

Manager 101 Flaw #1

But besides the linen, she refuses to let anyone make a single decision without HER consent.  I mean, last time I checked, I knew how to make a decision.  So what is terrible is that this has been beat into the employees and now they can't do ANYTHING without asking her.  What happened to empowering your employees to make a decision and think for themselves?  If you do something without telling her or "keep her in the loop", she raises her voice at you.  This happened once.  I then informed her I understood she was mad, but I wasn't afraid of her.  It's like this overall feeling in the office that everyone cowers to her.  I don't get it.  She is just a person. 

Manager 101 Flaw #2

She has a hierarchy system, basically like Royalty in the 17th century.  I mean, she treats hourly employees terrible, like she is better than them and that they don't deserve to be in the same room as her.  It is horrible.  I mean, why would you treat people that way?  Not everyone has the same opportunities.  Plus, it doesn't mean they aren't smart.  Everyone is NOT cut out for college, but end up just fine in the world.  She only speaks to people who have formal education.  I just think that is plan wrong.   What I find ironic, it they are always the ones that save your ass.  I mean, they know the system, they know other people in different departments.  Plus, they happen to be pretty technical, while the advanced managers are often not.  So why for heaven's sake would you talk down to someone that can help you if you just simply asked with a please and a thank you? 

Manager 101 Flaw#3

She wants change, but doesn't change anything.  Just because it has been done that way for the last 100 years doesn't mean it is the best thing going forward.  You can present a million great ideas or things to implement efficiency and she will either ignore it or it will get lost in her office, never to be seen again. 

The morale of this story is FIND ANOTHER JOB...and I plan to.

The End.

The Boyfriend Effect

Once upon a time, I finally found a boyfriend (cheers are allowed).  So it's almost like when you tell people, they say one of two things, 1) AWE, great!  or 2) Finally, dude.  It's really a toss up.  I mean, I consider myself a good catch, but it appears that I am the lucky one.  So let me tell you why and give you some examples.  First, he is a friendly guy, here is a picture of good ol' Jimmy.  He would kill me if he knew that is the name I gave him in my blog.  Well it was that or Giovanni.  Well whatever, I am the blogger.  

Ok, so that really isn't him.  Put this is how I kinda picture him, since he is in sales.  He basically can make this same gesture and it's spot on.  However, I noticed that when I introduced to him to a few of MY people, they would facebook friend him.  Now you are like Diana, so what?  He sits back and lets the new friends roll in.  You know what, YOU'RE WELCOME!  Then, my parents, I actually asked my dad, hey who is the last guy you liked, that I introduced  you to?  Brent *names have been changed to protect the innocent X-boyfriends of my life*  I mean basically, my parents haven't liked anyone I dated since HIGH SCHOOL!  Hello.  What happened?  I said, oh hey I am going to date a bunch of douchbags for 17 years.  Apparently so.  They do, however, like Jimmy.  FINALLY, dude.  (see I say it too, sometimes.)  

So then the compliments roll in, "oh, he is so well mannered", "oh, he is so handsome with good hair", "oh he has a lovely smile", "oh he cooks, how did you luck out?"  Well I PICKED him, damn it.  Where is the credit going?  I mean he didn't show up on my front door.  I had to SEARCH.  I mean, yes, my past record hasn't been great.  BUT, I weeded those fools out.  I have kept my standards, anticipating that I would find Mr. Right.  So there you go.  I am pretty clear on the fact that I can't cook.  So hence since he loves to cook, I love to enjoy and sample that good cooking, plus I do clean up people!  He's taller than me.  Well folks, I didn't wake up yesterday and go, oh hey, I am so tall I think I will date a short guy so I can feel like the Amazon chick I am EVERY OTHER DAY OF THE YEAR!   I mean my friends make me feel like that because they are all 5 foot nothing.   I have used these important tools to design what I am looking for.  Now he isn't perfect, but that is for another day and another blog.

Now I will tell you this.  I can tell you that I do truly appreciate him, because, I dated all those douchebags, and when you have been through that fun, you will truly savor the day you meet someone sweet and caring.  It's like going to the path of righteousness in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  "Only the penitent will pass."  I swear, I am Indiana Jones, and I have to go through all these little tests to get to the cup, which might be Jimmy.  It's just a comparison, don't get nuts now.  I happen to reference 80's movies, so get on board.  Miss Hollywood gets it, so you should too.  

Just remember all the great things he is getting.  Here, I will help you with a list:
1) NOT crazy
2) Has a job (if you can call it that)
3) Blonde with no split ends, and TALL
4) Hilarious, thoughtful and friendly
5) Financially responsible
6) Brilliant

I mean, it's a wonder it took this long.  

The End.

The Great Divide

I just recently had a conversation with my co-workers in regards to manners and respect.   We know that manners differ around the world, but we forget that they also differ from region to region within the United States, too.

I was thrown into the North verses South debate of whether or not to say “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, Sir.” Southerners are adamant and I mean that to the fullest extend of the word, that this shows good manners and respect when both adults and kids use it. While Northerners use please and thank you a lot as well as other polite expressions including “Sure” or “No problem”—we can’t bring ourselves to add the “Ma’am” or the “Sir.”  I consider myself a person with good manners.  I do say thank you A LOT, and I am quite sure I am the 'Princess' of written thank you notes. 

I have also read that northerners have said not to say “Yes, Ma’am,’ or “No Sir” as “it sounded subservient.”  I tend to agree.  However, I am in the South and I accept that it is a sign of respect. 
Good manners or subservient? Is this what it boils down to? After listening to lots of “Yes, ma’ams” throughout my life, it has became both familiar and pleasant. None the less, truth be told, it is difficult for me in turn to say “Yes, ma’am” and “No, Sir.” It would take longer than twenty years for me to adopt. 

So who’s right? Well no one. Just as it’s good manners to slurp your noodles in Japan or to belch after a meal in Taiwan, no one is right and no one is wrong. Different people with different histories, traditions and culture develop different rules.

So what’s the answer? Please don’t judge us too harshly when we don’t say “Yes, ma’am” or “No, Sir”! 
As for respect, and titles, I might see things a little different.  Now my close friends who have kids, have their children call me 'Your highness'.  Actually that would be awesome.  However, they call me Miss Diana.  My God-kids call my Diana, which makes no difference to me.  However, in my work environment, I call people by their first name.  They are people that I work with.  I mean no disrespect, but I see it as we are even.  We work in the same environment.  I will call you by your first name whether you are 22 or 62.  I really don't see any issue with that. 

HOWEVER, the ladies I work with insist that you put a Ms. or Mr. in front of people that are your elder.  For me, it depends on the situation.  It also depends on how I am introduced.  If I only know you as Mr. Johnson, then I will tend to just call you that, unless corrected.  Now my man (yep- do you see how I stuck that in, like it was totally natural?) has a mother that happens to be 92. (long story) I recently got her a birthday card.  I was torn as to whether I should call her Ms. Williams or Helen of Troy (but she isn't from Troy, but some po-dunk town you haven't heard of ...I digress).  So I went with Ms. Helen.  I am an adult.  I respect her so that is why I added the Ms, well that and she is 92.  Now this man of mine (see - there is a little ownership there but not too much like he is my property), he calls my parents Mike and Carol, (yep - like the Brady Bunch).  I don't care, and I am sure they don't care.  I mean, this smart ass guy would tell you they are just happy there is a man around.  (SIDEBAR - Yes, I am grateful because I dated a lot of frogs, but I know I am the best thing he has EVER found, and I know this because he once told me he was waiting for 'crazy'...I might be the first one that isn't!!!)

The End.

THE Missing Bra

Once upon a time, I have not blogged in quite a while.  So to all my millions of followers, I apologize for the lack of humor in your life these last few months.  ONWARD.

So, as you may or may not know, I loathe early mornings.  There are several reasons why, but I am quite sure it stems back to my mom having me at 12:04AM.  Basically is a birth right to a night person, and NOT a morning person.  Many people have fought me on this idea, but have lost.  There are several examples of how the morning is truly the thorn in my very large foot.  For starters, the alarm always goes off too soon.  I am sure it doesn't help, that I like to stay up late.  The second thing is, I sleep walk to the bathroom.  Imagine a zombie movie and then insert me in the morning.  It's basically the same thing.  Now, to add to the picture you have in your head.  Recently, my left foot has been killing me.  The middle of my foot.  Well in the morning (because it is morning and morning is evil), it REALLY hurts, so picture a limping zombie.  Hopefully it's getting better because of my hot foot doctor.  We shall see.

So typically Mondays are the most rough day for me of the week.  Fridays, I hop out of bed....well I move slightly faster, but not much.  So last night, I couldn't fall asleep.  I am sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I was watching Power and Privilege on channel 38.  It's like 20/20 for murder, death, kill cases.  SIDEBAR:  It's like a mystery, that says, oh the rich guy's wife killed him for someone hotter and she also wanted the rich guy's money.  That's about 90% of them.  Oh and I was playing candy crush, level 38, until  I ran out of lives, then I listened to new ring tones.  I mean, clearly I was overusing technology.  So finally, I turn everything off and lie there, and eventually fall asleep.  So 5 minutes later, it's morning.  Well that is at least what it felt like.  So I hit snooze once.  ONLY once, so I though, hey this morning may not suck.  WRONG.  That was just the beginning. 

First, I opened my top drawer to get a bra out. Well they were all in the laundry room hanging up.  No problem, I will go get one on my way downstairs.  Proceed with the getting dressed.  Then, I put my hot mess of hair up in a ponytail.  So I threw on some make up and headed downstairs to make my lunch.  Yep, I did nothing but sit on my ass watching tv on Sunday night, heaven forbid I make a lunch then.  I think I will do it Monday when I barely have enough time because I can't get my zombie self out of bed. 

So I hurry to get to the train station and as I arrive, the train was leaving without me.  Unbelievable.  So as I am turning around and heading down the road, I hit the freeway and I my seat belt is on.  But something seems a little off.  I realize, I am not wearing a bra...

Now if this was MIss Italian Accountant, there wouldn't be a problem.  Just recently she mentioned to me that she doesn't even wear a bra half the time.  You see she is a negative A.  Her work uniform is a tank top and shorts.  She has a virtual office.  I could only hope to have that job some day.

So for a moment, I thought I really need to go home and get one.  BUT THERE WAS NO TIME!  I literally get anxiety from being late to things that require me to be on time.  So I continued to drive.  Needless to say, I pretty much got out of doing New Hire Orientation.  I mean I have a suit coat at work that is rather small.  Not to mention, I have done the New Hire Orientation for several weeks and I just had a few days off, so I think this may have caused exceptionally rough morning.  So someone else did it.  That was the perfect way to get out of doing New Hire Orientation.

The End.

The Year of Diana???

Once upon a time, it became 2013.  What?  Ok, so here we are in 2013.  2012 had it's ups and downs, but so far this year has been relatively good.

Here is a list of good things that are coming my way:
1) I am going to New York City for my 35th birthday.  Holler!  With 3 girlfriends and possibly the gaybors...
2) I have a job (which funds these trips)
3) My house happens to be clean
4) I met a decent guy.  He stands up when I go to the lady's room.  It's nice, surprising, and what I would consider a party trick.  Not everyone does that, which makes others curious or jealous.  I am good with both.

Things that could be better:
1) I win the lotto before I go to New York City
2) New carpet magically got installed in my house
3) I get promoted???
4) I didn't have this sinus infection or stupid cold and could breathe through both nostrils.

Things that will be coming up:
1) a blog about the Greyhound bus.
2) the Superbowl
3) my birthday month
4) the end of this cold or sinus infection!

That is the lists of 2013 for now...

Reasons for Health Insurance...

Once upon a time, I got shit-canned and needed to have my annual OBGYN appointment.  Now, really I just needed to renew my prescription.  However, the doctor won't do it if you haven't visited him in a year and/or have paid your dues.  (the insanely expensive office visit, to put your feet in the stirrups (SIDEBAR: which is still more fun than going to the dentist.  I HATE THE DENTIST)).

Soooooo.. I called my doctor, who I really like, and his total office visit was going to cost me $236.00 without insurance.  I don't know about you, but I'd like to not be thrown out of my house, so I think I will pay the mortgage instead.  My back up plan was to call Planned Parenthood to check out the damage there.  Well for a mere $85.00, I could get my prescription.  Perfect.  I made an appointment, thinking it would probably all happen in 10 minutes.  WRONG.  But after talking to Miss Mobster Accountant, I should have hit the county clinic.  Note to self:  I will do that next time.  I am sure it will take me back to my lovely ride on the Greyhound Bus.  Let me give you the quick breakdown.

Reasons Planned Parenthood Kicks Ass:

1. It's a mile from my house.
2. It's cheap.
3. The people watching might be better than the airport.  It's a toss up.
4. They have prints of Monet in the patient room, for Culture.
5. They call in your prescription.

Reasons Planned Parenthood Sucks:

1. I made an appointment and waited an hour to be seen.
2. The scale is a liar and dates back to prehistoric times before digital scales roamed the earth.
3. The waiting room has hard metal chairs.
4. A woman yelled at the employees because SHE forgot her medicaid card.
5. It makes me thankful for when I did have insurance.

SIDEBAR: I wish I had picked up several flyers about STD's just to send to my friends, and I thought about that after I left, and I have been regretting it ever since.

Regardless, I was the easiest patient they had that day. No live births, no current children, no allergies, no questions.  They were probably like WHOO HOO! 

The End.