02.25Blonde Hair
I was on the phone with my mom last night when I found a long blonde hair in my preschooler son, Christian’s quilt. Even before I changed my hair it was not that blonde. This was platinum. I wonder who he’s seeing…
A week ago, Prunes was looking at the online Cosmopolitan, in particular Sex Tips From Guys. I rolled my eyes as I scanned the first page which read: “Want to know exactly what men are dying for you to do to them when they’re naked?” I suppose tie them to an ant hill and smear them with raspberry jelly is out. I then tell her that that and the constant self-loathing articles are the very reason I boycotted these trashy rags long ago and advised her to do the same.
But eventually her laughter made me curious as she read some of the funnier ones to me. “Here’s one,” she says:
“You and I should hang out around the house buck-naked and brush up against each other ‘by accident.’ The next thing you know, we’ll be going at it.”
Sure, I can hear the moans of disgust as the teenager witnesses that display.
“When you grab my arms, hold ‘em over my head and lick around my armpits. I’m putty.”
Prunes and I grimace at each other at the very thought.
“When you give me a hello kiss after a long day of work, don’t hesitate to grab my package. It’s like Hel-lo…”
Package? Do they still call it that?
Armed with these nuggets of wisdom, I promised Prunes I would try them out and report back to her in the AM. “I’ll let you know if they work,” I informed her dutifully. “OK, great,” she replied flatly.
The next morning…
Me: “OK so the getting naked around the house was out because of the little people. Instead I brushed up against him in the kitchen and he asked me to move so he could get the peanut butter. Well we do have a really small kitchen.”
Prunes: “Hmm.”
Me: “Then later he was sorting laundry but a little person was hovering around him so I just said, ‘Nice package.’ Without looking up he said, ‘thanks.’” (I’m left to wonder if this is something he hears every day)
Prunes: *laughing*
Me: “But later he was laying on the bed stretched out and had his arms over his head. I instantly remembered the armpit licking thing. I thought about it but I couldn’t do it. So I walked away.”
Prunes: “I don’t blame you.”
Me: “Overall, my results are inconclusive. I really don’t have the stomach for it. But they may work for you.”
I then shared my own nuggets of wisdom.
Me: “Men are really not that complicated. Here are my tips: make eye contact and be in the room. Oh, and they like you to make them food. That’s really all you need to do to initiate sex. You don’t even need the food part… that’s just to keep them hanging around. And when you want them to go away, just do the opposite.”
So I’ve been having a problem with my breast for a long while now. Last November I had a mammogram and although the attending screening technologist said it was clear, my doctor never called me about the results and my symptoms persisted. Last week I had my annual physical and I asked about my mammogram results and what did he think the problem was in relation to the symptoms I was having. Well he didn’t have the results. So I replied, “Great.” After the exam I persisted, “so are you going to get my results and get back to me?” which was then met with, “did I order this mammogram?” and then, “when?” So you can see I didn’t feel so confident about my breast anymore. But then again when you have a weight loss clinic, a vaccine clinic, work in urgent care and have a private practice, who has time for patients? And at my last visit, he didn’t examine my breast and I had to wait three months for the mammogram. Really I have no idea why there is a breast cancer campaign.
And if you’re going to say (like my mom) to get another doctor, well there aren’t any. Truly. All the doctors have gone to the U.S. to make more money or some such thing. Anyway… back to the Saga of the Breast. After some time I developed a pea-sized lump beside said breast. This was ignored as well. Great. Seriously, what do I have to do to get a man to look at my breast? har har.
This weekend it became larger and angrily painful so I decided to go to a walk-in clinic. I tend to avoid the walk-in because the doctors there don’t seem the greatest but considering the alternative, I went. While I sat there waiting for an hour I silently prayed that I wouldn’t get one of the lame doctors. In time I was called in and was led to an examining room. Shortly after HE came in. I’ve had him once before. While I was out there willing not to get the lame ones I should have been praying not to get him: the HOT doctor. Honestly, this is far worse.
Totally sexy and excruciatingly Irish with a thick, fresh accent. My gawd, who needs to be examined by Gabriel Byrne? I couldn’t even remember what was wrong with me and quite frankly I wanted to run away.*
Dr. Byrne: “So how long have you had this?”
Me (or someone resembling me): “About a year, I think.”
Dr. Byrne: “A year?!”
Me: “uhhh…”
Dr. Byrne: “Show me.”
Me: *swoon*
Oh dear God, I think I passed out at this point. In the end, he gave me a lab to schedule an ultrasound and told me to come back 3-4 days after to get the results in person. He’s pretty sure it’s a cyst so I feel better that it’s going to be looked at etc. But back to my point, I think that doctors should be marginally repulsive. It’s far too distracting and these are serious matters. Although later I did bemoan the fact that I already had my PAP last week. It reminds me of a very funny Saturday Night Live skit from long ago called Mel Gibson, Dream Gynecologist.
*I’ve never understood my flight response to sexy men. Perhaps something carried over from third grade or some cruel instinct imposed on me by Mother Nature to somehow prevent me from mating with them.
I really really really try not to write about my cats (and be one of those people who write about their cats), but I feel the need to purge since they seem to be in great peril. Last week Chimo broke his leg. I know this can happen, but it traumatized me greatly. MAINLY BECAUSE NO ONE NOTICED!! All I know is, I went to work and when I came back my cat was broken! He didn’t cry but he was obviously limping. And that day was an unusually bad day because I was so tired that I came home and took a long nap. I awoke later and noticed Chimo limping. My immediate thought was that his diabetes was inexplicably worsening and his legs were giving out again. Then I thought he had a cut or something. I took him to the bedroom to check him where it was quiet, picked up his leg and it was like picking up a limp noodle. Very gross and very disturbing.
To make a very long story short: Went to emerg AGAIN. Financially wiped out. Could have put down a mortgage payment. Worried sick all night. Broken in four places and dislocated. Gets cast. Chimo is fine… yay! Start interrogating the males: how did this happen? why didn’t anyone notice?
There were a few theories… my cats are indoors but they fight sometimes, workmen were in that day (but not near cats I’m told), a fall… however, my theory matched closely with the vet’s and that somehow he got his leg caught in something. No one was ‘fessing up. My theory is that one of the males broke my cat. They’re always bumbling and fumbling around the place like giants in a Hobbit house. And they have these big boat feet and never look where they’re stepping (although I realize cats purposely trip people, you must take that in account). They slam doors and bang drawers. Everything is dealt with, with deliberate force. Oh Lord, please send me a dainty man to cohabitate with.
Anyway, when he came home, he hid in the only spot where men’s feet aren’t and stayed there for a day. It didn’t seem to hinder his appetite (see nose in big bowl of meat). He was really pissed off with the cast but now he’s walking on it. At least the Snoopy neckerchief they gave him matches his blue cast.
03.23Diet Bread
Recently I was out visiting. Since there happened to be no bread in my host’s abode, I kindly requested brown (if I wanted to ingest bleach, I’d eat a box of Tide). Instead of brown, my host brought back a loaf of Weight Watchers. I soured immediately, remembering this product from the 80s. Anyway, I don’t know how whole grain bread translated into “diet” bread but here it was. But perhaps, it had improved, I wondered.
I explained my hesitation to my host… how Weight Watchers bread used to be the size of a cocktail napkin. It still is. It also possessed the depth of a cocktail napkin. Still does. Of course it was only 50 calories (and really, was it that much??), I explained, it was a quarter the size of a normal slice of bread. However, I wasn’t prepared for how much it had changed as I opened the bag…
03.13New Book
PIC and I were talking on the phone last night about goals and futures (how we basically lack both haha), when I came up with some great ideas for fame and fortune. I was excited and motivated in my speech when suddenly…
PIC interjects with: “I want to be a robot so I won’t need happiness.”
Me (feeling deflated): “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with you?”
PIC: “It’s a joke” (laughing)
Me: “That’s not funny. What is that? Jokes for manic/depressives?”
PIC: “Heyyy… that’s a great idea! I’m going to start writing a book of them now!”
Me: “Just what you need… another project…”
03.06Cat Food Conspiracy
First, let me just start off by stating there is a cat food industry conspiracy. There I said it. Unfortunately I found out far too late. Most veterinarians in the past were leery of blaming cat food for chronic illness. It’s only within the last couple of years that such information is being passed on to pet owners, and then only in vague terms. Diet recommendations were conflicting. After one of my cats was diagnosed with diabetes, I did my own research and sorted it all out.Cats are primarily carnivores. Yes, I realize your cat loves blueberry muffins, but truly they are designed to eat MEAT. They aren’t meant to eat corn, grains and cereals and meat by-products and other fillers. Not to mention the gruesome unmentionables. Although pure meat can be found easily in dog food… it is a difficult expedition to find a cat food counterpart. I highly recommend Wellness for Cats which will now be our only cat food forever and ever, Amen. Your vet won’t. He/she will insist on a costly prescription diet with some company they have an agreement with. Four of my five cats have been diagnosed with cat food-related chronic illnesses. I have two diabetic cats whom require insulin injections twice daily, another had chronic colitis, and one with FLUTD (and now another possibly). Isn’t it just a little ridiculous that after years of feeding your cat Purina (which led to your cat’s obesity and high-carb diet which led to feline diabetes) you are prescribed Purina DM with high fiber and protein to control his diabetes. Hello??? I can’t wait for the first lawsuit against cat food manufacturers.
Until then, I will relay my horrible weekend of my youngest cat suffering from a possible urinary tract blockage (which is fatal if not treated promptly). Do you think I could find a veterinarian? Nope. There is only one emergency clinic within 40 km and they wouldn’t even look at him until I could scrape up a big wad of cash (which took some time) and a car ride. After a ridiculous amount of money, I still don’t know what’s wrong with him yet.
On a happier note I would like to thank PIC for helping me with my littlest family member and for helping me laugh (albeit under macabre circumstances). After the vet trip, we went for coffee. I was seriously sleep-deprived as I noticed a garbage bag in the snow. “Hey! There might be kitties in it!” I squealed, recalling an old Dr. Katz episode (Tony V’s wife is afraid whatever’s in the road might have kitties in it). PIC laughed and after a few minutes told me his not-funny story about a man who recently found five kittens in a Dumpster. I started to freak out about assholes who do that when he added: “They were taken to the humane society and adopted out. All five of them.” “Oh great,” I scowled, “so now they can get left in five different Dumpsters!” “It’ll be harder to find them this time,” he added.
And because I had entered that psychotic kingdom of sleep deprivation, I laughed until I couldn’t breathe and fell to the ground (I do this often, being of British descent). I may have even peed a little.
Yes, we are strange.
02.18Employer Etiquette
As a contract worker, I am constantly looking for work. I guess you could say I’m a professional job searcher. I’ve gone to all the employment centres and job fairs, done all the workshops, my resume has been written and rewritten again, I read books and articles, interview people in my field, and I keep up with the latest job market information. I’m always looking for advice and tips. But now I think I’ve reached my limit. Job Hunting “help” has become the new Cosmopolitan (et al). How so?
Many years ago I boycotted all the fluffy women’s magazines. At first I ate them up like everyone else. I wanted to improve myself, date a better man, look a little thinner, learn 24 ways to fabulousness. Then I realized it never ended. And at the end of it all, it never really helped and just made me feel inadequate. Meanwhile the majority of men’s magazines weren’t screaming the constant message of “340 Ways to Look Handsome” or “What’s Wrong With You? Take our 3 minute Quiz!” Gender messages were skewed.
I think the same thing is happening to job hunters. Now I believe there is a lot of valuable information out there. Perhaps too much information. I also realize that some humans defy all reason and logic. But for the most part, I think the new job candidate is highly polished. Moreso than ever. I’m tired of reading about how bad breath and too much perfume could be killing the candidate’s chance of being hired, or that if I had just worn a better pair of shoes, I’d be in! I see people taking in laptops, wearing designer suits at interviews and I think: “how did you swing that being unemployed?” Well I’m here to tell you it’s all crap.
It’s not you, or your shoes. Your skills are wonderful and you’re fabulous! It’s a tough market. And what’s worse, you have to put up with the worst potential employer etiquette. You’ve done all the research, put tons of effort in and spent scads of money to finance your job search and the “market” can’t be bothered to show a little kindness in return.
I’ve never worked for anyone who was guilty of the following but I’ve had potentials. Moreover these are stories from fellow veterans and personal observations from the job boards.
Abominable Employer Etiquette:
- I want a job, not long-term foreplay. When did it become perfectly acceptable to conduct first interviews 3-4 months after posting the ad, then conduct second interviews and so forth months after that? You aren’t stringing along a rich boyfriend here. Most people want to get to the end of the road before their children start college. Thirty days is more than sufficient.
- Spare the form letter. If you can’t be bothered to send anything more than a form letter/email, don’t send anything at all. I’d rather think I lost you in the abyss than read some vague tripe that won’t help whatsoever and will probably make me feel insulted and bewildered.
- Write accurate job descriptions. Your posting should be written by the people in the field or cowritten with people who understand the industry. Your ad says designer and no one wants to find out after two interviews that you’re really looking for someone to write copy, sell subscriptions and clean the staff bathrooms. That wastes your time and mine.
- Can the buzz words. Similar to the above. Why are you writing J2EE, ISP, TCP/IP, R2D2, C3PO when you don’t even know what any of that means? It makes your ad convoluted and makes you look clueless.
- Looking for Wonder Woman/Superman. Please, people. There is NO such thing as a Web Designer/Journalist/Biologist who will make you coffee and collate reports and will do it on weekends and for $24K. I suggest you send that puppy into Fan Fiction Monthly.
- Penis envy or potential serial killer? Pretentious basement companies trying to sound like they’re a large corporation. You are working out of your parent’s basement. You are alone. You have no “IT team.” There is no staff. It’s just YOU.
And now for some poetic justice…
PIC received a shitty rejection letter today. He is one kick-ass designer and programmer. I’m not just saying that… he knows his shit. Anyway, he applied to some company who probably couldn’t afford him and sent them samples of his work. Their reply was that his programming wasn’t strong enough. I gasped when he told me. I told him it must be a form letter. I continued to bitch about form letters and shared a recent story. I had poured my heart and soul into a proposal. I wasn’t bothered that I didn’t get the contract. What bothered me was the form letter stating that it hadn’t met all their posted requirements when it did and then some. I mean I had the paper right in front of me, hellooo. Anyway, back to PIC. I told him he should reply by stating he had just accepted an offer for some billion dollar international company. I’m not too petty (haha). As we spoke he started to write just that, but actually wrote something much better.
Hi Katherine,That’s a relief.
Sincerely,
PIC
My gawd I laughed my ass off for 30 minutes. I bet they won’t even get it. But thank you PIC for letting me live vicariously through you!
02.05You Whore
In keeping with the last entry… I would just like to publicly announce that my computer is ONE BIG WHORE. Every time I turn around it’s infected with spyware. I’ve got firewalls and 3000 spyware and anti-virus programs installed. I’ve threatened death upon anyone who subjects my baby to whorey situations such as porn, warez and gaming sites. Intimacy with strangers (downloads) is forbidden. Yet nothing works. I went away last weekend and came back to find my whorey computer infected with FIFTEEN spyware programs.
Since abstinence seems unrealistic, I just wish someone would invent computer condoms.
As some may know, my online portfolio has a theme of fruits. Yes, and it works. The current fruity theme is green. Since there is an HTML and a Flash version, I decided that since the Flash one needs updating, why not make it red. Strikingly red. So the search began for red fruits… with PIC’s assistance on MSN. At one point he actually complained about how he doesn’t get included in my blog very often. (I thought the idea was to avoid getting mentioned here). So here ya go. I bet you’re sorry now.
webdevchick says: i found the tomato
pic says: cool!
pic says: also, you might want to make a cover for that mini disc.
webdevchick says: yeah i just want two conjoined cherries on the cover lol
webdevchick says: so i’m like this slutty designer
webdevchick says: that’ll get me some gigs
webdevchick says: if christina and britney can use sex to sell, then…
pic says: heheh
webdevchick says: no better… my lips next to the cherry
pic says: i don’t know if that will work if you’re applying for a web design position but it’s worth the try
webdevchick says: who wouldn’t want to hire a slutty web designer??
webdevchick says: ew. this dragon fruit has dried white stuff all over it.
pic says: nice…
webdevchick says: well i guess it goes with the slutty theme
pic says: i’m going to have to evaluate these fruits…
webdevchick says: i think it’s actually that dried up pesticide you find on apples
webdevchick says: wait til I do the yellows…
webdevchick says: BANANAS!!
pic says: i will NOT be a part of that.
webdevchick says: omg that’s so funny. it will be like a really bad 80s porn
webdevchick says: glossy red lips next to wet cherries and a big ol peeled banana LOL
pic says: okay you can shut up now
webdevchick says: with some gelatinous 80s font
pic says: i can’t believe this is turning me on….