Bitchy McBitcherson's Blog

Tag: being me

  • on the way home from the airport

    Kid: Oh my god, what… Ugh. That smells.
    Me: It’s my suitcase.
    Him: What?
    Me: It’s cheese.
    Him: You have smelly cheese in your suitcase?
    Me: It’s good cheese.
    Him: So?
    Me: It is a bit stinky.
    Him: I’ll say.
    Me: It’s really good cheese. It’s ridiculously expensive and I haven’t found it in Minnesota, and to order it and ship it is even more expensive.
    Him: So you put it in your suitcase?
    Me: Yes, I know, all my clothes are fucked. I need to wash everything.
    Kid: It stinks.
    Me: It IS a smelly cheese, but it is SO good.
    Him: You stunk up the plane?!
    Me: Yes, it kind of did. It’s really good cheese.
    Him: People probably thought it was you. They thought you were farty.
    Me: No, the suitcase was over somebody else’s head.
    Kid: It smells like dog poop.
    Me: It’s my favorite cheese. It’s really good.
    Kid: It smells like a dog came in here and pooed all over!
    Me: IT’S GOOD CHEESE!!!
    Him: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
    Me: Shut up!
    Kid: Inconceivable.

    Brought to you by Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk and my not entirely loving family.

  • phucking phone

    I’ve mentioned this before. I have. Many times.

    I hate the phone.

    I do.

    I fucking hate the phone.

    I hate getting calls.

    I hate making calls.

    Sometimes I simply cannot make a call. It is too much effort. I don’t really think this is something that I can explain to anyone who does not have this issue with phones, and I don’t need to explain it to them.

    It is effort, because I need to rehearse the phone call and just get myself ready and prepared to deal with the phone call.

    And see, it is difficult to rehearse something when you and the other person are not following the same script.

    Today, I rehearsed a little script for speaking with Diane about something. I prepared. I took a deep breath. I dialed.

    First of all, I get the wrong phone number. *shudder* That was NOT in the script.

    I call again, quadruple checking the number.

    woman: Hello, Crown Management.

    me: Yes, can I please speak to Diane Sumner?

    woman: Who?

    me: Diane Sumner

    woman: Who?

    me: Extension 208?

    woman: What do you want?

    me: Umm, I need to speak to the person who handles The Oaks, is that no longer Diane?

    woman: Who is this?

    me: I… I… Who is managing The Oaks now?

    woman: I don’t know, this is the operator.

    me: What?

    woman: The OP ER A TOR. You’ve called the operator.

    me: Oh. So, I didn’t reach Crown Management?

    woman: Yes, this is Crown Management, but it is the operator.

    me: Okay. So, can I speak to Diane Sumner?

    woman: She isn’t available.

    me: Okay. Well, can I leave a voicemail?

    woman: No.

    me: Oh… When will she be available?

    woman: I don’t know, they didn’t tell me when they would be available.

    me: Oh…

    woman: I can take a verbal message.

    me: I… whatever, that’s okay. (it has veered too far off script and I’ve had enough, so it is just time to hang up)

    And, while I am not sure anybody will understand this. This essentially sums up for me, exactly what it is like to use the phone. Always.

    ETA: It actually went off script for me as soon as a person answered the phone. Normally when I call that number, I get a phone tree system that allows me to just type in the extension of the person I wish to reach, or I can look them up in the directory by last name.

  • Puppy Love

    My first crush was a boy in my kindergarten class, named Jimmy.

    One day our mothers made arrangements for us to play together after school. I was excited about it.

    We were playing outside we saw a little dog. The dog was wandering around happily sniffing the at things, tail up and wagging joyfully. Jimmy laughed and pointed at the dog. “Look at his butt! See that hole? That is where the POOP comes out!!” This cracked him up.

    And so my first crush came to an end, amidst his gales of laughter. Period. Full stop.

    It wasn’t that I was embarrassed or grossed out. I worried that the dog might hear and little doggie feelings would be hurt. I thought it was mean of Jimmy to make fun of the dog.

    I told my friend Sarah about it. She was in second grade, and of course we both considered her much wiser and more experienced in the ways of the world.

    She laughed at me. “What did you expect? Boys are way more immature than girls.”

    What do you remember about your first crush?

  • Inquiring Minds Want to Know

    There is a teen who is tasked with managing the dishwasher.

    How many dirty dishes do I need to find in my cabinets and drawers before it becomes acceptable to stab the teen with a dirty butter knife?

    I mean, just a little flesh wound, not aiming for a vital organ or anything… Yet.

  • Setting Small Goals

    Today I hope to ship multiple packages.

    This sounds so simple, and yet is so ridiculously problematic for me.

    I am not kidding, two of the packages I need to ship contain things that I MOVED HERE because I did not manage to ship them to the intended recipients prior to the move, and frankly it is stuff that had been sitting around the other house for a very long time, unsent.

    There is just something about having the stuff that needs sending, an appropriate box, tape to seal the box, the address, the time, the memory, and the energy/patience to deal with the post office, all coming together in the same spacetime, that proves more difficult than it should be.

  • Bad Mood on the Rise

    I am paying bills, eating salt and pepper pistachios, and trying not to think too much about the fact that my laptop is on a downward slope and will soon either need to have money and time spent on it, or will need to be retired to the junkyard.

    My mood is shit, due partly to paying bills, partly to teenage attitude, partly to the ridiculously frustrating behavior and actions of a friend, and mostly to just being me.

    In moving news, I am still completely NOT unpacked and settled. Yes, I do realize it is because it is my own way of not really moving. I want to be with my family, but I don’t want to be here. The behavior is ridiculous, immature, and self-destructive. It is easy to create an atmosphere where I cannot possible be happy (surrounded by chaos, disorder and boxes, and unable to find things I need), and thereby prove that I cannot be happy here. I am working on it. Even if I create an environment where functionality is possible, it may not lead to functionality, but if I neglect to even try to create such an environment I am not even giving myself a chance. That might be fine as a personal choice, but since I live with two other people, it would be fucking unfair. So, I am working on it, but I am not happy about it. I don’t feel better because I am working on it. I am just working on it.

    Today I hung something on the wall. I screwed something of ours to the wall. This is the first time I’ve done that. I don’t mean EVER. It is the first time I’ve done that in this house. I attached something to the house. I’m not sure that the fact I’ve done it is symbolic, but I am damn certain that the fact I hadn’t was. It helps that it was a less than $10 something that I probably won’t even bother to take with me when I leave. It also helps that is a knife magnet bar, meaning sharp things are now easier for me to reach.

  • Season of Cranky

    I am not unaware or unappreciative of the good in my life. I’m not. There is a lot that is good. I know it.

    However, I don’t feel like writing about it right now. I don’t want to look on the bright side or focus on the positive. What I want to do is vent about the negative. I want to do that here. I am going to bitch and complain and dwell on the dark side and wallow in the muck and I really don’t need anyone to help me see the positive side. Not only do I not need it, I don’t want it.

    So, please feel free to scroll right past my pity party (which I suspect will be going on for quite a while), but don’t be trying to aim a bunch of sunshine my way. It just isn’t what I need right now.

    It’s fucking cold. I don’t mind the cold, really, but I have lived in Southern California for the past 13 years. I didn’t own any winter clothes. Cold without decent clothes is just fucking miserable. In order to rectify the no winter clothes thing, I need to shop.

    You know what else makes me fucking miserable? That would be shopping. I’ve had to do more shopping in person in the past few weeks than I’ve had to do in… I don’t know how long. I hate it. I hate the stores. I hate the parking lot. I hate the crowds. I hate dealing with the check out. I hate trying shit on.

    Also, it turns out I basically hate winter clothes. Or at least most of what I am finding. They are not flattering to me. I feel ugly in them.

    I have found several cute things for the kid. Actually we are close to done on the kid stuff.

    The water pressure problem has not been solved and I need it to be dealt with soon. There is this whole odd thing with this house as far as the owner and the property manager goes (I’ll write about it later) but in the meantime, my water pressure problem is not being handled. I know it will be soon, but really, I want it handed 2 weeks ago.

    Every night I go to bed without enough done. Every morning I wake up with too much to do.

    I can’t find a good breakfast place. Breakfast is easy enough to do at home, but as a family we really enjoy a breakfast out every other weekend and since we got here we’ve been eating out a lot more often than that as I try to beat this kitchen into shape. Breakfast is easy. How can everyplace be so lame? Ugh.

    The stove here is electric. One of those glass top ranges. I hate it. It is a pain in the ass to cook on, and I haven’t gotten the knack for it yet at all.

    Produce is noticeably more expensive here. Wandering through the grocery store causes a fair amount of stress. First of all… it is shopping. Secondly, I don’t know where anything is because they are not “my” grocery stores, so I have to wander around a lot. Then they don’t care the things I want, or the prices are high enough to make me cringe. The cheapest turnips I’ve found so far are more than twice as expensive as back home (which is still how my brain thinks of it). I went to a Trader Joe’s here, which is a story in itself, damn what a shitfest of a parking lot, and everyone shopping there was cranky. Actually I suppose I fit in well. They don’t carry several of my staple TJ items though. When I am back in CA, I am going to pick up those so I can bring the packaging back here and give it to the manager and see if they can look into carrying them. They are all TJ branded items, so… maybe.

    Also a LOT more expensive? Finding somebody to do yard work type stuff for you. I am getting quotes for yard maintenance and snow removal. They are not pleasing to me, and I keep getting tempted to just try doing the snow removal thing ourselves this year out of sheer cheapness, but I also know that since every person in our house has serious back problems, that I had better factor in the medical costs to the whole thing.

    Alright, time to go to bed. At some point I should probably get a new comforter to replace the one that Willow peed to death. The nights might be a bit warmer then. Not that I’d be getting enough sleep because the dogs are determined to wake me up several times a night.

  • posting from my phone

    The mobile interface is very limited. Hopefully I will have a new and better phone tomorrow. I really hope to have internet installed on Monday.

    Woke up to fire news from the place I am honestly still thinking of as “home”, and have continued to monitor the situation all day. Just exchanged some txtmsgs with my neighbor a few minutes ago.

    Unpacking is going slowly. Climate adjustment is also going slowly. My skin hates the change.

    Dogs are… annoying. Indy hates the weather and in her typical weather hating response is going on bathroom strikes. London caught a possum in the backyard, and now only wants to catch more things, and is also becoming a bathroom problem, because he is too busy looking for something to catch and doesn’t want to waste time pooping. Great. I fear for the carpet.

    The cats are doing great.

    The fish is still alive.

    It has been warmer the past two days than it was when we first got here, but is still on the chilly side.

    Wonderful friend arrives on Monday to provide us with a week of company and unpacking help.

    On Monday they are predicting a high of 29 degrees. I hope wonderful friend brings warm clothes.

    I predict I will cook a lot more soup here.

  • cold and tired

    Basically no internet here for at least a week. *shudder*

    Hopefully this will help keep me focused on the unpacking.

    So very much unpacking to do. *sigh*

    Anyhow, I still won’t be reading much, since I will only get online when I go out to someplace with internet access.

    Returning the RV today (I couldn’t yesterday because I had to deal with the movers).

    I don’t mind cold weather, but cold weather without proper clothing absolutely sucks. I am COLD.

    Also, this time change is kicking my ass. I just need some decent sleep.

  • Made it to Minneapolis

    So much left to do, but at least I am not sleeping in a RV tonight. Also, the heat in the house works.

    All pets appear to have survived the trip.

    Teen has survived the trip, barely.

    I…

    Well, I’m still typing.

    A bit horrified to discover that Michael Crichton died of cancer while I was out of touch. I mean I am sad to find out that he died, but horrified that it didn’t qualify as a <a href=”http://twitter.com/cnnbrk” target=”_blank”>cnnbrk</a> tweet, considering other things that <a href=”http://mstori.com/?p=1136″ target=”_blank”>have qualified</a>.