Jaded tagged me so here goes...
List 7 things about myself. They can be interesting, weird, whatever. I'm supposed to then tag seven other people. Some people HATE being tagged. Other people (like me ~ you need to tag somebody ~ me! me! I'll do it!) love them. Since I don't know who is who, let me know if you want to be tagged and I'll tag you. Or, simply steal it from here and let me know you're doing it so I can come check it out.
1. I refuse to leave the house wearing "grubby" clothes. I want nice shoes and lipstick on before I go out. Graziella saw me almost every day for nearly a year and a half. She saw me leave the house without nice shoes and lipstick a total of once. And it shocked her.
2. Along those lines, I see no reason to wear sneakers unless I am working out. They are not for fashion. They are for exercise. Period.
3. I cannot stand air hand driers in bathrooms. If I know that's what is available, I will take napkins into the bathroom with me. If I get caught by surprise, I have been known not to wash my hands. Which is really gross. Which is how much I hate air hand driers.
4. I hate having a cell phone. The Divine M and the Grill Master finally gave me one last year for the holidays because I was on the road so often. It was never used because I only used it in case of emergency while traveling. The only reason I use it now is out of sheer necessity. Once I am in a situation where I don't need to use it on a daily basis, it will go back to being the Bat Phone. Period.
5. I am a closet romantic ~ but in a weird way. The standard romantic comedy/chick flick leaves me bored. Love songs just annoy me. A dozen roses on an anniversay, not so much. But a kiss on the head and unsolicited coffee brought to my desk while I'm working...I melt. Being told my bath has already been run for me...I melt. Being taken out for dessert at midnight...I melt. Except for Valentine's Day and my birthday. Yeah, I'm totally typical there.
6. When I toast bread, I like it burnt. A warm roll is lovely, don't get me wrong. But if I'm gonna toast something, it should break when you drop it. That first crunch when you bite into it makes the whole thing.
7. I rarely engender a neutral reaction in people. Upon seeing me, not even meeting me, just seeing me, people usually have a strong reaction. Sometimes it is adoration. Sometimes it is disgust bordering abhorrence. I have finally stopped trying to figure this out or do anything about it. While I never try to create reactions, I also no longer worry about not creating them. I just go about my business and my life and let people react however they're going to react. I smile at the people who like me. And I smile bigger to the people who don't.
Remember to let me know if you want to be tagged (this time and/or in the future!)
Those are Pobble Thoughts, with some help from Jaded. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Famous Last Words from a Non-Enigma
Do you remember that Lithus is a firefighting pilot? Well, in case you'd forgotten, he is.
You're cringing now, aren't you?
When I told Lithus I had officially turned down the unconstiutional and fascist job, he said "I'm in L.A. on standby. Why don't you come down here for a little while? We haven't flown in a month so it should be quiet."
You're laughing now, aren't you? Because you know the end of this story already, huh? Yeah...
The first few days were indeed slow. There was lots of sitting around. Lots of racing remote control cars. Lots of staring off into space. I was an incredibly productive author out of sheer boredom. And have a lovely tan thanks to the California sun. But then... Yep, the Santa Ana winds kicked up and the guys got busy. Really, really busy.
I watched these guys go from racing remote control cars to crawling inside the engine of a Sikorsky 61 (that's a really big fucking helicopter to you and me.) Watched them go from napping in the shade of that really big fucking helicopter and smoking a lazy cigarette to flying it into hurricane-force winds with sustained gusts of 105 miles per hour. I listened, afterwards, as these guys got drunk and toasted, not themselves, but each other.
I watched people on the news praise them as heroes. I watched people in the bar stare, transfixed, as they watched the really big fucking helicopter drop water on flames ~ without ever knowing the men who had been flying her when that footage was taken were sitting right there in the corner. And I watched these men turn away from the televisions, embarrassed to be caught in "the money shot" and grateful that, while their really big fucking helicopter might be recognizable, they wouldn't be.
They are humble, modest men who take pride in what they do ~ but don't want to be known for it. They can't tell you about every structure they saved ~ but remember every one they didn't. They know how hard they worked to put the fires out ~ but are just as glad you don't. They are heroic ~ but don't want to be called heroes. They know that what they do is important ~ but it's not what defines them. They have spent their lives being called enigmas ~ but they aren't. Not if your paradigm is big enough to accept ordinary men who do extradorinary things for no reason other than it's their job. Who have bad days, who can be assholes, who get sick, who are sometimes moody, who are a whole hell of a lot more than Hero Pilots 90% of the time. So, maybe they are paradoxes: heroes who don't want to be heroes. But enigmas? Nope. Just really interesting, well-rounded people.
Who look damn sexy in their flightsuits.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
You're cringing now, aren't you?
When I told Lithus I had officially turned down the unconstiutional and fascist job, he said "I'm in L.A. on standby. Why don't you come down here for a little while? We haven't flown in a month so it should be quiet."
You're laughing now, aren't you? Because you know the end of this story already, huh? Yeah...
The first few days were indeed slow. There was lots of sitting around. Lots of racing remote control cars. Lots of staring off into space. I was an incredibly productive author out of sheer boredom. And have a lovely tan thanks to the California sun. But then... Yep, the Santa Ana winds kicked up and the guys got busy. Really, really busy.
I watched these guys go from racing remote control cars to crawling inside the engine of a Sikorsky 61 (that's a really big fucking helicopter to you and me.) Watched them go from napping in the shade of that really big fucking helicopter and smoking a lazy cigarette to flying it into hurricane-force winds with sustained gusts of 105 miles per hour. I listened, afterwards, as these guys got drunk and toasted, not themselves, but each other.
I watched people on the news praise them as heroes. I watched people in the bar stare, transfixed, as they watched the really big fucking helicopter drop water on flames ~ without ever knowing the men who had been flying her when that footage was taken were sitting right there in the corner. And I watched these men turn away from the televisions, embarrassed to be caught in "the money shot" and grateful that, while their really big fucking helicopter might be recognizable, they wouldn't be.
They are humble, modest men who take pride in what they do ~ but don't want to be known for it. They can't tell you about every structure they saved ~ but remember every one they didn't. They know how hard they worked to put the fires out ~ but are just as glad you don't. They are heroic ~ but don't want to be called heroes. They know that what they do is important ~ but it's not what defines them. They have spent their lives being called enigmas ~ but they aren't. Not if your paradigm is big enough to accept ordinary men who do extradorinary things for no reason other than it's their job. Who have bad days, who can be assholes, who get sick, who are sometimes moody, who are a whole hell of a lot more than Hero Pilots 90% of the time. So, maybe they are paradoxes: heroes who don't want to be heroes. But enigmas? Nope. Just really interesting, well-rounded people.
Who look damn sexy in their flightsuits.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Friday, October 26, 2007
I Couldn't Do It
First, all is well out here in Pobble Land. I just ended up without internet (damn the cable company!) for about ten days. Lovely, huh? Anyway...
I couldn't do it. I couldn't take the job. See, I am, as mentioned here previously, a Constitutionalist. And while reading over the employee handbook, came to realize that several of their employee policies were, quite frankly, unconstitutional. We they legal? Yep. They conform to the laws of the land. Were they constitutional? No, I do not believe so. And then there were the fascists ones. Yep ~ fascist employee policies.
Here are the biggies...
1. Employees' work spaces, lockers and purses or bags are subject to search at any time, with or without probable cause. To the point that the handbook said flat out being on a worksite implied consent to such search.
Okay, yeah, I hate this concept. You know what though? It was a casino. I can understand it, as much as I hate it. Kinda like mandatory drug testing. So where's the problem? The problem was in the next sentence of the handbook which informed us that employees need not be present nor given prior notification nor ever notified that their workspaces, lockers and purses were going to be/had been searched. In other words, I could have walked into the locker room on my break and found security personnel going through my locker and purse. Um...no.
2. Employess were to maintain behaviors and attitudes that reflected postively on the company at all times, both while on and off-duty. Now, who gets to decide this? While I am on duty or even on property while off duty, absoultely. On shift, I belong to the company for which I am working. I follow dress codes. I maintain a professional and appropriate manner. But once I'm off the clock? Who gets to decide what's appropriate and what's not? If I get a buzz on one night after work at the local bar, am I in trouble? If Bolger or Dr. B and I go to a gay club and are seen going in or coming out, am I in trouble? If I stop for gas while wearing my PVC and thigh highs, am I in trouble? And what about this blog? Can I write it or not? Whose morality is applied here?
3. Finally, the last one that I just couldn't ignore was the one about getting a second job. If an employee got a second job for a different company ~ even not a casino ~ the employee had to notify their supervisor immediately. The supervisor would decide if the second job "will or might" (notice the quotations marks?) interfere with the original job at the casino. Please note, it's not that the supervisor will decide if the job is indeed interfering. It's if the job "will or might" interfere. We weren't even necessarily given the opportunity to prove we could do both jobs. Someone else got to decide if we were even allowed to try. Yeah. Not so much.
Now, the truth is, none of this would ever have applied to me. Had they ever searched my purse, they wouldn't have found anything. For all my wildness, I don't behave in a way that would reflect badly on anyone or anything short of the most conservative of Christians. And I'm professional enough that any second job I might have gotten would never have interfered with my first job. That's not the point.
And no, I don't believe that these policies were written badly. I believe they were written exactly the way they were meant to be written ~ intentionally vague so that people could say "oh, that's just the worse case scenario; we wouldn't ever really do that." Fine. Then if you wouldn't ever really do it, don't give yourself the ability to do it.
I'm a goob. I know that. Who the hell doesn't take a job because the employee handbook has the potential to be unconstitutional and fascist? Well...me. 'Cause I may be a goob but I'm a goob who knows what I believe in.
So, back to the job hunt. I'll keep you posted (so long as the cable doesn't go out again!)
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't take the job. See, I am, as mentioned here previously, a Constitutionalist. And while reading over the employee handbook, came to realize that several of their employee policies were, quite frankly, unconstitutional. We they legal? Yep. They conform to the laws of the land. Were they constitutional? No, I do not believe so. And then there were the fascists ones. Yep ~ fascist employee policies.
Here are the biggies...
1. Employees' work spaces, lockers and purses or bags are subject to search at any time, with or without probable cause. To the point that the handbook said flat out being on a worksite implied consent to such search.
Okay, yeah, I hate this concept. You know what though? It was a casino. I can understand it, as much as I hate it. Kinda like mandatory drug testing. So where's the problem? The problem was in the next sentence of the handbook which informed us that employees need not be present nor given prior notification nor ever notified that their workspaces, lockers and purses were going to be/had been searched. In other words, I could have walked into the locker room on my break and found security personnel going through my locker and purse. Um...no.
2. Employess were to maintain behaviors and attitudes that reflected postively on the company at all times, both while on and off-duty. Now, who gets to decide this? While I am on duty or even on property while off duty, absoultely. On shift, I belong to the company for which I am working. I follow dress codes. I maintain a professional and appropriate manner. But once I'm off the clock? Who gets to decide what's appropriate and what's not? If I get a buzz on one night after work at the local bar, am I in trouble? If Bolger or Dr. B and I go to a gay club and are seen going in or coming out, am I in trouble? If I stop for gas while wearing my PVC and thigh highs, am I in trouble? And what about this blog? Can I write it or not? Whose morality is applied here?
3. Finally, the last one that I just couldn't ignore was the one about getting a second job. If an employee got a second job for a different company ~ even not a casino ~ the employee had to notify their supervisor immediately. The supervisor would decide if the second job "will or might" (notice the quotations marks?) interfere with the original job at the casino. Please note, it's not that the supervisor will decide if the job is indeed interfering. It's if the job "will or might" interfere. We weren't even necessarily given the opportunity to prove we could do both jobs. Someone else got to decide if we were even allowed to try. Yeah. Not so much.
Now, the truth is, none of this would ever have applied to me. Had they ever searched my purse, they wouldn't have found anything. For all my wildness, I don't behave in a way that would reflect badly on anyone or anything short of the most conservative of Christians. And I'm professional enough that any second job I might have gotten would never have interfered with my first job. That's not the point.
And no, I don't believe that these policies were written badly. I believe they were written exactly the way they were meant to be written ~ intentionally vague so that people could say "oh, that's just the worse case scenario; we wouldn't ever really do that." Fine. Then if you wouldn't ever really do it, don't give yourself the ability to do it.
I'm a goob. I know that. Who the hell doesn't take a job because the employee handbook has the potential to be unconstitutional and fascist? Well...me. 'Cause I may be a goob but I'm a goob who knows what I believe in.
So, back to the job hunt. I'll keep you posted (so long as the cable doesn't go out again!)
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Seriously...Not Helpful
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the only thing standing between me and my new job was a pee test. This was not going to be an issue. Seriously. So, I went and peed in a cup. This morning, I receive this message on my phone...
"Hi Pobble, this is Boss from We'll Take Your Money Hotel and Casino. Your drug test has come back and I've got some questions for you. Would you please give me a call?"
Wait? What? What does this mean? What could have happened? Am I on any new meds? Oh shit...I am. I'm taking a new homeopathic for *ahem* women stuff. What are those herbs? What family are they in? Okay. Deep breath. Return the call and find out what's going on...
"Oh, hi, Pobble. Just a second. Let me change phones." Oh shit.
"Well, thanks for calling me back. The questions I have for you are if you still want the position, when you can come in to process paperwork and when you can start, if you still want the job. Your drug test came back perfectly clean."
Well...duh. And yet...Seriously. Not Helpful.
I start work on Monday. :)
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
"Hi Pobble, this is Boss from We'll Take Your Money Hotel and Casino. Your drug test has come back and I've got some questions for you. Would you please give me a call?"
Wait? What? What does this mean? What could have happened? Am I on any new meds? Oh shit...I am. I'm taking a new homeopathic for *ahem* women stuff. What are those herbs? What family are they in? Okay. Deep breath. Return the call and find out what's going on...
"Oh, hi, Pobble. Just a second. Let me change phones." Oh shit.
"Well, thanks for calling me back. The questions I have for you are if you still want the position, when you can come in to process paperwork and when you can start, if you still want the job. Your drug test came back perfectly clean."
Well...duh. And yet...Seriously. Not Helpful.
I start work on Monday. :)
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
The Things of Which Nightmares are Made
Today, we were moving shelves into my room. TTG someone noticed before they actually got into my room. Had that Big Honkin' Spider made it in there, I would never have slept again.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Employed Again
As I have often bemoaned here, new authors aren't exactly rolling in cash. Which means, once again, I am entering the "real" working world. When I started my job hunt, I decided that I wanted something I could leave at the office when my shift was over, something relatively brainless and something that would pay the bills. Not a big order, I admit it. It has taken me nearly four months and a relocation to achieve this goal. Who would've guessed????
See, for a while I had an impeccable but. As in "your resume is impeccable but..." Now, however, since my relocation, I have had one interview ~ and been offered one job. So, today I go pee in a cup and next week officially become part of the working masses again. While writing in the evenings, of course. ;) Because I have always had a career. Now I have a job, too.
My birthday was delightful. Once I find the cord to my camera, I'll post some pictures!
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
See, for a while I had an impeccable but. As in "your resume is impeccable but..." Now, however, since my relocation, I have had one interview ~ and been offered one job. So, today I go pee in a cup and next week officially become part of the working masses again. While writing in the evenings, of course. ;) Because I have always had a career. Now I have a job, too.
My birthday was delightful. Once I find the cord to my camera, I'll post some pictures!
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Shameless Plug
Yep, it's my birthday. Show me the love.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and birthday cake (yellow with chocolate frosting, please.)
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and birthday cake (yellow with chocolate frosting, please.)
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
After years and years ~ and did I say years? ~ of living alone, the babies and I both are and have...
...ROOMMATES!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ominous music swells in the background and the screaming commences)
And life is very, very different. Now, I knew it would be very different when I made this decision yet I guess I was naive. See, while I was expecting very different, I wasn't quite expecting very, very different.
Family Dinners. WTF are those? Dinner is a bowl of cereal or popcorn in front of the computer. If I really feel like cooking, there's always frozen pizza or spaghetti (because cooking units must be activated so this counts as cooking.) Not any longer. Now, there are meals. With utensils. And people sitting around the table. Who talk to each other.
Laundry. Is scheduled. My days are Tuesdays and Saturdays. That whole leaving-clothes-in-the-drier-until-I-need-that-shirt thing I do? Not anymore. Because Wednesdays and Sundays belong to someone else.
Shower Wars. I share a bathroom with someone tall. He shares a bathroom with someone short. The shower head moves daily.
Flirtatious, Sexy Calls with Lithus. A thing of the past. Because it's very difficult to get into or stay in a flirtatious, sexy mood when there is always the possibility the door will be opened, the call "Maaaaaaaaaame! Where aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrre yoooooooooooou???????" will sound or aforementioned family dinner will be served a little early.
Quiet Time to Write. Not when the door gets opened, the dogs get their tails pulled, the computer is in shared space in the kitchen, you have no say over if the t.v. is on and everyone is awake between the hours of 6:00 a.m. and 9:30 p.m.
Privacy. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But you know what else?
My coffee is always made when I get up in the mornings, eventhough I'm the only one in the house who drinks it. There's someone to give me a ride to the garage for the Pobble Mobile's oil change ~ and take me back again when it's done. When I want to hit a coffeeshop, I don't have to call around and hope for someone to be free. Friday nights are game nights. There's someone to come sit out on the porch and chat or just look up at the stars with me. I don't have to run errands alone any longer. I'm not the only caring for and loving Lionel and Daisy. There are hugs and laughter and kisses on the head. Someone always asks me about my day. And every single time, there are people who are happy to see me.
That top list doesn't seem so important, does it?
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
...ROOMMATES!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ominous music swells in the background and the screaming commences)
And life is very, very different. Now, I knew it would be very different when I made this decision yet I guess I was naive. See, while I was expecting very different, I wasn't quite expecting very, very different.
Family Dinners. WTF are those? Dinner is a bowl of cereal or popcorn in front of the computer. If I really feel like cooking, there's always frozen pizza or spaghetti (because cooking units must be activated so this counts as cooking.) Not any longer. Now, there are meals. With utensils. And people sitting around the table. Who talk to each other.
Laundry. Is scheduled. My days are Tuesdays and Saturdays. That whole leaving-clothes-in-the-drier-until-I-need-that-shirt thing I do? Not anymore. Because Wednesdays and Sundays belong to someone else.
Shower Wars. I share a bathroom with someone tall. He shares a bathroom with someone short. The shower head moves daily.
Flirtatious, Sexy Calls with Lithus. A thing of the past. Because it's very difficult to get into or stay in a flirtatious, sexy mood when there is always the possibility the door will be opened, the call "Maaaaaaaaaame! Where aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrre yoooooooooooou???????" will sound or aforementioned family dinner will be served a little early.
Buying A Special Treat for Oneself. Aw hell no. Once it goes in the kitchen, it's fair game. Give it up and call it a donation to the cause. Consider yourself lucky if it lasts two days in a row.
T.V. I have almost no say in what is on, let alone if it's on. Why else would I know that Wonder Pets makes me cry?Quiet Time to Write. Not when the door gets opened, the dogs get their tails pulled, the computer is in shared space in the kitchen, you have no say over if the t.v. is on and everyone is awake between the hours of 6:00 a.m. and 9:30 p.m.
Privacy. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But you know what else?
My coffee is always made when I get up in the mornings, eventhough I'm the only one in the house who drinks it. There's someone to give me a ride to the garage for the Pobble Mobile's oil change ~ and take me back again when it's done. When I want to hit a coffeeshop, I don't have to call around and hope for someone to be free. Friday nights are game nights. There's someone to come sit out on the porch and chat or just look up at the stars with me. I don't have to run errands alone any longer. I'm not the only caring for and loving Lionel and Daisy. There are hugs and laughter and kisses on the head. Someone always asks me about my day. And every single time, there are people who are happy to see me.
That top list doesn't seem so important, does it?
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Odd Things
* I used to have an over-the-door hooky-thingy that had four hooks for my robes. One hook was always empty. I now have an over-the-door hooky-thingy with three hooks for my robes. There isn't enough room.
* Wonder Pets makes me cry.
* I do the Monday and Tuesday NY Times crossword puzzles. Mondays are pretty good for me. Tuesdays are a little tougher. I bought a big book of them the other day. The puzzles were large print. Because of the size, I found myself slightly surprised when they were just as tough.
* When I take my evening bath, one candle keeps it too dark. Two are too bright.
Go figure.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
* Wonder Pets makes me cry.
* I do the Monday and Tuesday NY Times crossword puzzles. Mondays are pretty good for me. Tuesdays are a little tougher. I bought a big book of them the other day. The puzzles were large print. Because of the size, I found myself slightly surprised when they were just as tough.
* When I take my evening bath, one candle keeps it too dark. Two are too bright.
Go figure.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
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