How to wake up in three seconds flat

Open eyes at 4:23 a.m. *PING*

Inner (bitchy) voice says, slyly, "You didn't happen to mail out that really important document yesterday, did you?"

Say "CRAP". Out loud. Because no, I did not mail out that really important document yesterday. Fuck. Damnit.

Picture telling boss of my screw up.

Ty to not vomit.

Picture sneaking into work right now, in pjs, and mailing out document. But realize postage meter automatically updates and would still show document being mailed today and not yesterday as it was supposed to be you freaking fuckwit.

Picture breaking (brand spanking new all automatic stupid freaking fuckwit of a) postage meter.

Picture telling boss of my screw up.

Still trying to not throw up.

Take shower, wonder how long it takes between being fired and for them to repossess my car and foreclose on my house and ohmygod the boys and Dog and I will be homeless and we'll have to go live with my mother (not sure why her, but this is my panic session, I don't need to make sense) and then I'll be arrested for killing her because she drives me insane and my (former) boss will say, see, I knew she was bad, she didn't even remember to mail out my really important document.

Tear out hair and rend clothing. Collapse in heap on my bed, mourning what it was like before the Big Screw Up.

Then realize, crap. We're finishing that really important document today, which means I will be mailing it out this afternoon, not yesterday. Yesterday we finished a different really important document which did not have to be mailed out. I am an idiot. A still employed, very awake, shaky with relief and left over panic idiot.

It's going to be a long day.

Unreasonable reasons

I've been asked to come in a third time for this job. I can't imagine what else they could ask me, but we'll see. Perhaps we're down to the nitty gritty questions: what's your favorite color? is it called a bar-b-que or a grill? or a grille?

In the mean time, I've managed to come up with 8,532,685 reasons why I shouldn't/can't/don't want to leave here. Mainly? New = scary. Welcome to my comfort zone, where I am prepared to stay the rest of my lonely, lonely life...



Huh. Also? Lonely. And horny.

The game of life

Money was never really discussed when I was a kid. Not as in, it was a taboo subject, we just never had any and there was nothing to discuss. And so, shockingly, when I grew up (har, har), I fell into that same pattern. Instant debt! And bounced checks and debt and, oh, hello there! credit cards! Both my exhusband and I were horribly irresponsible and while, yes we were adults and knew better, we didn't know how to do better. And since this was how we grew up too, had no real idea on how to change that.

Finally, when we got divorced, I was heavily in debt and had a credit score pretty much in the single digits. And I realized that sucked. And I didn't want to live like that for the rest of my life. Now, this isn't a fairy tale story (unfortunately, because that fairy godmother? could use her. A lot.), but I worked hard and paid off that debt and have a respectable credit rating now. Still have debt, and still make a lot - A LOT - of financial mistakes and can be irresponsible whenever I walk into a book store or DWS, how I love thee, let me count the shoes...

My point being (finally, I know) is that I don't want to repeat this cycle again. I try to speak to the boys about money, but other than, "We have none, don't buy things, and pay your bills" I'm not really sure how. I'm going to try a game type thing. I've listed several normal bills and amounts, and an income. I'll let them choose an apartment and a car from the local paper (for the payment amount, not to ship them out), and include that in their budget. I'm going to print up little cards with 'life surprises', like receiving birthday money, having to get new tires for the car, etc. Any other suggestions? Ideas? How do you teach your kids about money? Care to teach me about money?

Holiday shopping rules

Now that the holiday shopping season is underway, let's review the rules, shall we?

Rule #1: Wash. Dig that soap out from wherever you've stashed it away, 'cause today is the rainy day you were saving it for. Before entering what common sense tells you will be a crowded, enclosed space, please for the love of all that is odoriferous, wash. When I can tell the route you've taken through the store by the lingering body odor? I throw up a little in my mouth.

Rule #2: When your child has had enough, is cranky or hungry or just likes to shriek at the top of her lungs? Take. Her. Home. Shop later after her nap. Or after her lunch. Or after you buy her that freaking toy that I am ready to shove down your throat because? Seriously? She's screaming. Do you not hear that? Stop torturing the child before I start torturing you. Go home.

Rule #3: I realize this time of year is hectic. And the stores, oh my god. The music and noise and people and things and lights and holy crap, enough! It's a tad overwhelming, I understand. But? When you stand in the middle of aisle, with your husband, Gomer, staring with that scary blank look, I can't get around you. The people behind me can not get around you. Get out of my way. Or better yet? Go home. Try again tomorrow.

Rule #4: I am walking as fast as I can, but the people ahead of me have, apparently, never been out of their house before, so stop hitting me with your cart. It will not make Gomer and Martha waddle any faster and seriously? I'm going to stop walking and start staring blankly if you do that again.

Rule #5: This is a rule I had thought merely common sense, but after hitting the mall today, learned it is indeed necessary. As cute as Junior is when he's learning to walk, or about 1.5 years old and toddling along, he's not cute when he's toddling along in the middle of a crowded mall. He's a speed bump. Pick him up. Now. Put him in a stroller or a cart or a backpack thingy or carry him but letting him wander around in this mob? Is idiotic. And annoying. Go home.

Rule #6: The cell phone. The lovely, wonderful cell phones. When you use your cell phone while in a crowded place of shopping, use common sense too. And your eyes. And ears. Watch while you talk so that you do not run into me. Twice. And those ears? We have them too, have you noticed? So when you're screaming to Martha that, "These here things are on sale. No, On Sale. Do you wants me to get some? Well, I dunno. Maybe for Mother? And Lil John would like one." We can all hear you. And we don't want to. We're busy avoiding the people stopped in the middle of the aisles and walking speed bumps that you shouldn't step on and avoid the lingering odor of someone who's afraid of soap. And water. And fresh air. So, use your indoor voice. Or better yet? Go home.

I believe this tops the list

of things that make you go, WTF? I mean, seriously, what is OJ thinking? His book, "If I did it, here's how it happened" seems to say "I'm still denying I killed the mother of my children and Ron Goldman, but if I had, here's the plans I had laid out. Er. I mean, how I would have done if I'd had the chance. Er, I mean, how it should have been done."

Seriously? What the hell is he thinking? If I were the family of either Nicole Simpson or Ron Goldman, I'd be furious. Hopefully any profits he makes from this mess will go towards them. Or Nicole's kids. Wonder if they're going to read this? How does one present a book you've written to your children, when it's apparently about how he would gone about killing their mother?

Can you nominate people who should be up for a Darwin award, even if they haven't actually killed themselves through their own stupidity yet? Because I'm thinking OJ may be a prime candidate.