Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Happy to see the End

of 2006. Years ending with the number six seem, for whatever
reason, to have been a little unkind to me and to those I love
(at least if 1996 and 2006 have been any indication), so I'm
glad to see it out the door. Just to Celebrate, we opened a
bottle of wine that I received as a gift in '96, quite possi-
ly, oh hell -- hands down the worst year of my life -- and
drank down all of the bad luck. I'm reckless with luck that
way, walking under ladders, opening umbrellas indoors... I
fully expect we drained all of the bad luck of that year, and
this past year, a pale shadow in the misery department, but
not a real peach of a year nonetheless, last night.

Oh, and Steve called. Kind of a calculated thing on his part,
using Christmas to soften me up before calling to see if I'm
still mad at him, but anyway. Have to give him points for be-
ing smart about it. I would have done the same thing in his

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Waiting for Valerie

So my best friend is coming over because I am SO LONELY with-
out Dylan, who is with his dad in Austin. I'm driving in on Wednes-
day or Thursday though - whenever I can get business finished up
here. I have a lot of loads to get straight for the end of next week.
Things that definitely need to be run and billed out before the end
of the year if I'm going to break even this month. Oy. Capitalism,
gotta love it.

Then in January we have the poultry convention in Atlanta. That's
always a rollicking good time, what with everyone trying to drink
each other under the table. Oh and this year there will be the spe-
cial added pressure of trying to both outmaneuver and stay away
from my old boss. Although, I have a broker coming in from Ohio.
He's a pretty big guy, former ball player and whatever. I guess he
can help play keepaway. I'm a little nervous about the whole thing
quite honestly.

I DO have the tits though! Wonder if anyone will notice? That's
just a joke. The poultry industry is very small when it comes to
gossip and there aren't that many women in sales. They'll notice.

I am really self-absorbed aren't I? Yes. Ok. Now that we've had
that brief moment of uncomfortable self-enlightenment, let's
move on, because it was really yucky.

So the running of loads is really a painstaking and thankless task,
which is why, I suppose, I make money doing it. But this week
its going to also be almost impossible to pull off what with the
holidays. Plants will try to (try? Hell, they out and out will ship
the incoming meat short, so there won't be enough product to
run. I can predict that at the outset). Then on top of that, I have
to have a truck pick up breading Wednesday night which may or
may not really be ready on time. I mean it should be ready but
hey. Its the fucking holidays. And, I need to find two trucks to
ship to California on Friday and Saturday, again... over the Holi-

And by the way? People aren't just clamoring to leave their fam-
ilies and go driving dead chickens up and down the highways over
Christmas and New Year's. They aren't really lining up. So, it's
a toss-up.

And if I can't pull off all of these runs and all of these trucks?
Well, it's all bad from there.

Umm... Yes

When I said that there would be the occasional dash of wit in my
blog? I did NOT MEAN that it would be RIGHT THERE in the
the header where the very WORD OCCASIONAL has been
spelled incorrectly lo these past however long... (how the hell long
have I been here anyway?) Nevermind. That's not the point.
Not once mind you. Oh no. Twice. How high do you have to be
to do that twice? I'm talking about you not TELLING me vis a vis
that question just in case you were wondering, and not about me
doing it in the first place, although I can see why you might have
been confused.

Are you the same group of people who would let me, your friend,
walk around with parsley in my teeth and not said anything at all!?
Well! Are you? Yes. You are. You are exactly that same group of
friends. I know you well.

I've Heard Rumors

I Know

That I shouldn't say this. It is low and mean and petty. But.
My ex-husband's wife is becoming increasingly large. And
not any more attractive as the years pass. I know this be-
cause I make a sick yearly pilgrimage to the website of which-
ever academic outpost or University they happen to be teach-
ing THIS year just to see. I wonder, as I gaze at her ever
steepening forehead (oh yes, it appears she also suffers from
thin hair and a rather unfortunate case of female pattern bald-
ness, the type that renders the hairline ever higher on the head
of its female sufferers) if this latest move had anything to do
with his penchant for straying from the proverbial fold.

I wonder how many times she's had to tell herself that he
really is just friends with that other, very attractive and
witty female professor. I wonder how she deals with being
just down the hall from him in another office when she sees
female students flocking to the office of the published poet.
I wonder if he ever takes their daughter to his office and lets
any of those students babysit for a little while behind her

I wonder if she has ever used that same daughter to threat-
en him, in desparation, realizing that she really isn't competing
so much with other women after all, but maybe words on a
page or something in his mind, or something so ephemeral
it cannot even be described at all.

And I wonder if she ever thinks about the two little boys and
their respective mothers who came before her, Merry Christ-
mas. Its what you wanted. Now you're there.

Friday, December 22, 2006

You're there Aren't You?

In the secret place.


You are, aren't you! I knew it! See?
You may be able to keep the where
and the what to yourself but I
still got through to you right in the
middle of the commission. Ha!

Yes, you're quite naughty.

hmm... It's so funny to talk to you
when you're there. Doing the secret
thing. So why can't you tell me anyway?

I promise, it will all make sense when it
turns out.

I'll bet it doesn't. I'll bet it doesn't make any
sense at all. I'll probably roll my eyes and tell
you how absolutely stupid and annoying you
were for thinking there was any reason what-
soever for that level of cloak and dagger.

I don't think so.

Uggh! I DO! How much longer?


Oh please, you know perfectly well what. Until I
can know, of course.

I don't know.

Oh come on, give me a ballpark. Days, weeks,

laughter. You know I really can't tell you.
Until it comes together. I have to -
Can I call you later?

Wait, wait. Have I ever told you how much
you sound like Eddie Izzard?

The comedian?

Yes. Him.

I wish I was as funny as him.

You are funny.

I'm an asshole.

No, no, you're not. Not really. You remember
when you were gone...


I listened to this Izzard CD - something about
Cake - terribly funny. But,
I was crying the entire time... He
sounded so much like you. I listened to it over
and over again. I thought you -

I know. I'll call you later, I have to go now.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Say No To Steve

So I decided that NOW,
FINALLY, since I have
other assets besides my
hair, then its ok for me
to go auburn again. I
mean, there is a certain
rather larger percentage
of the male population that REALLY DOES PREFER BLONDES.

However, I like myself better with darker hair. In sales, its
unfortunately important to worry a good bit about appearances
and about what the average man might prefer because hey! I sell
to men. Mostly men anyway. Yep, about 98.9% male I would say.

But I've noticed since the enhancements that men aren't really
looking all that much at my hair anymore. Sometimes they seem
to be able to hold an entire conversation with my chest alone. Which
is really funny. I usually get
a lot of flack for being "the
smart girl" (I know, difficult
to believe but true) so its fun-
ny now that it almost doesn't
matter what I say because a
lot of guys aren't hearing a
thing that comes out of my
mouth anyway. Which brings
me to Steve. My Ex. I mean my really EX EX because we split
up two years ago.

We had gotten back together for a romp in the hey the other
night. Right. I said "hey" and not hay. Because hey! It was
pretty good. It was though, I'm sure, completely courtesy of
the new breasts, because its not like it happened BEFORE I
got them. (I've always been known for my brutal self-
honesty and now is no exception.)

So anyway, I figured that was the last of that. Which is ok. I
mean, I DO have a date with an attorney and another date
with a newscaster from Birmingham. But there was some-
thing really comfortable and nice about being with someone
with whom I felt totally comfortable. But then he calls again,
so we agreed to get together. So. I didn't make weekend
plans. I cleaned the house. I even went so far as to think
about, well at least to entertain the thought of thinking
about, wearing the new garter belt and stocking set I'd
bought to go with one of the approximately 25 (yes count
them, TWENTY-FIVE) sexy new bras I've purchased
since the surgery.

And then? Nothing. No phone call. Bubkus. Nada. Zero.
Cero. Zilch. That's right.

So I thought to myself, "Well, he must have another date."
But hey, if he did, he should have TOLD me he had plans
so that I COULD make plans with say, the newscaster.
After all, he lives closer to me than the attorney.

But then I thought, "Is he just being a stupid weenie be-
cause I wrote in my other blog about how the fedex guy
asked me for my phone number?" Which is funny, be-
cause its not as though I'm actually going to go OUT with
the fedex guy, being the elitist snob that I am.

That's right. The gatekeeper to my vagina keeps out all
comers (ha! no pun) without at the very least, a four year
degree. Yes. I know. I just lost readers. So sorry. By-

Now that I have alienated many of you, let me go on with
my story. Thank you. Ok. So anyway. For whatever
reason, be it poutiness or just that he's got something
else to do, I was inconvenienced. I don't like to be in-
convenienced. No, Steve, NO! Bad Steve. Bye Steve.

Bye Bye Steve, Bye Bye

And also, I will be changing my blogsite because bad
Steve and his family all read my blog. That's right.
Not only did he accidentally forward one of my emails to
everyone who works for the space station program at
NASA, he also gave his family and God knows who else,
my blog address.