Do the right thing, colleagues-we-don’t-miss edition

September 18th, 2017, 8:00 AM by Goddess

I hate people who brag about their good deeds.

But since I’ve been ranting about my most-recent ex-boss defriending me for no reason, arguably at the worst time to piss off someone so connected in the field he wants to work in, I have an update.

Through the power of the same social network, I learned he’s applying someplace else. And not getting much in the way of positive references. Other than, “Nice guy but not sure what, if anything, he did there.”

So I actually did have something nice to say. Beyond the, “Nice guy, but not real sure what he did here.”

He’s a good writer. Specifically, he was very able to channel the voice of the company owner. I knew the services weren’t being written by the owner, because he’s already working 100 hours a week on other things.

But even my trained eye would often wonder, “Wait, that HAS to be the owner! No? Wow, that ghost is good.”

And I said as much, to the person asking.

In any event, if this guy gets this gig, I won’t expect a thank-you. My contribution is unconditionally anonymous.

But seriously. This is a lesson in don’t piss off someone who can really help you.

I didn’t *have* to be nice. But it does my heart good to know that I did the right thing.


September 17th, 2017, 9:25 AM by Goddess

Every once in a while, life throws you a do-over.

I went to a Brad Paisley concert a couple years ago. Facebook Memories likes to remind me of it every year around this time. And thanks to the power of a free ticket and a friend who knew I needed a do-over, I got one this weekend.

I was everything I dreamed it would be. So happy I got to go again and enjoy every single moment.

Southern Boulevard selfie.

Rewinding a couple years … I started out doing well the last time Brad came to town. Ate healthfully, had one (admittedly big-ass) beer, and that was that.

Then it rained. And we took cover under the tent of another group of tailgaters. Who had Fireball. Lots and lots of Fireball.

Yeah, the next several hours are a blur. I remember upgrading our tickets and getting super-close to the stage. I also remember going to the bathroom before the main performer’s set … and losing my ticket.

Kept this one!

I vaguely recall arguing with the people checking my ticket. Like, you just let me in there before. I dropped my ticket. YOU KNOW ME. Let me in. I even have a brand-new spiced-rum-and-diet-Coke sitting under my chair … waiting to be reunited with me.

No luck. So I sat on the sidelines and watched the concert on the Jumbotrons. And did some texting I shouldn’t have, that finally gave permission to someone who was trying to start a relationship with me to do so.

In any event, fast-forward to today …

This time I had a small beer in the parking lot. That’s it. Sat on my little square on our little blanket the whole time. Didn’t have to run to pee because I wasn’t drinking.

What was really cool is that we went to the very back of the lawn, high atop a hill that overlooks two lakes. I didn’t get any photos because my phone sucks.

Well except this one.

But that’s OK. We were far from the cigarettes and pot and, even better, other people.

The ground was soaked from Hurricane Irma. It quickly permeated the blanket and my jeans.

It was OK. We lived through the storm — now the skies were clear, a million stars were out and we were seeing a fantastic show for free, thanks to Brad donating a bunch of tickets to local first responders … many of whom were working the show so their families could go and invite their friends. (I.E., how I got there.)

In any event, I’ve said before that if I could do-over the part about the text conversation that started so many summers ago, I wouldn’t do it at all. I always wondered what I missed while it was going on.

But I see now that life happened as it needed to. And it all turned out OK.

And at a time when my outside world is littered with dead, uprooted trees and debris and fallen electrical lines, it’s good to have my inside world tidied up again.

Imperfect friends, deadly enemies

September 16th, 2017, 9:49 AM by Goddess

On last night’s “Real Time,” Salman Rushdie reminded Bill Maher of his quote about how liberal purists need to learn “the difference between an imperfect friend and a deadly enemy.”

It was in reference to the dumbfuck Bernie voters who couldn’t stomach Hillary, or the indifferent who didn’t bother voting at all, for sticking us with that shit for brains who’s in the White House now. His comment was specific to the first 100 days of hell, and I can extend it to the embarrassing three visits the slob-in-chief and the First Slutty made to my state. Go the fuck away, to hell from which you were sent.

In any event, why yes, when recently asked what I’m looking for in a significant other, my first and only response was: “VOTED FOR HILLARY.”

Not “would have voted” or “considered voting” for her. Actually pulled the fucking lever to save our nation from impending doom, war with North Korea, trade war with our very good neighbor Mexico, and cultural wars that would make 1940s segregated America proud.

Speaking of which, Hillary’s new book is in my mailbox. Must run downstairs when I hit “publish” …

So much good loot! Postcards from Dave, stickers from Etsy and healing words from the popular vote winner.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Wars on my own front.

I was lamenting to a friend that the same person who ratted me out for wearing shorts (that got me kicked out of work) was eye-rolling at me ABOUT the person who kicked me out … and they were eye-rolling ABOUT my deportation.

Honey, if you think I am going to say something bad about THAT person (although, yes, I do have many feelings on that front), you’re dumber than you think I am. In fact, I said it’s OK and it taught me to figure out what DOES work, and to stick to it religiously.

Same with someone who is withholding the one thing from me that I want in this stupid world. Begging doesn’t work. Shaming doesn’t work. Ignoring the issue doesn’t work. Offering cash doesn’t work. But again, I’m sure folks are going for the reaction from me.

But to Salman’s, and originally Bill’s, point, these aren’t deadly enemies. That’s Trump. It’s not Hillary (to the Bernie bots and dumb fuck Trump voters). Hillary and the people I talked about today are imperfect friends.

Hillary would have been a survivable event to the Bernie bots and Trump voters. Trump is NOT a survivable event. My “friends” are a survivable event.

And so, as with the absolute disgrace this country has become, in my life too I am just grateful it isn’t scorched earth. Funny how you come to accept in life that a low bar is still a bar.

And for someone who barely drinks anymore, it’s not that hard to just ignore the bars for the most part because they really don’t affect your life either way, anyway.

A Cat-5 cataclysm in my mind

September 14th, 2017, 9:59 AM by Goddess

1. We Floridians can weather a Category 5 storm without even putting down our beers. But come on, people. There are only two working traffic lights on my 26-mile commute. Do you really not know that you’re NOT supposed to slam on the gas when you approach these brand-new four-way stops?

2. Shit for Fucking Brains tRump just landed in Florida. I wonder if Slut for Brains Melania is wearing camo-colored stilettos. Go the fuck away both of you. Wish Mar-a-Lago washed out to sea. It’s fucking hideous. The Merriweather-Posts are probably rolling over in their graves at the sheer gaudiness of it all. And also that fucking TRASH lives there now. #MAGA

3. These uncouth fucks sold Make Attorneys Get Attorneys #MAGA hats to underwater Texans. Maybe they will sell tank tops here since it’s a thousand degrees and eight people have died in a nursing home so far that didn’t have A/C.

4. Speaking of uncouth fucks, the only people I want banished to Siberia as much as those two are my latest batch of upstairs neighbors. Last night it was screaming, stomping, pissing, screaming, pissing WHILE screaming, guitars and more screaming ALL NIGHT LONG. Die. Die. Die. Just DIE. #MAGA

5. And for all those OTHER uncouth fucks who tell me “just move” like the assholes who told me “just evacuate,” please join that crowd at the end of a dock in Cudjoe Key next time a Category 5 hurricane slams into it head-on. You cough up first month’s rent, last month’s rent, full-month deposit and pet fees/rent (Six Grand. I’ll Wait) and we’ll talk.

6. Not sure why I had to come back to work and half the company didn’t. But whatever. I enjoyed being insanely busy. And I realized that even though we’ve let a lot of really good people go, the rest who stayed home did us a favor by staying out of our way. Can we make some trades now?

Can’t take it with you. Especially in an evacuation zone

September 12th, 2017, 6:05 AM by Goddess

In the mad dash to prepare for Hurricane #Irmagerd, I had the realization early and often …

I have too much stuff.

Not “good” stuff. Mostly lots of clothes and decorations from (C)Ross Dress for Less.

Mom especially has a veritable shitload of decorations from there and every store in Florida that has “Dollar” (Tree, General, Family) in its name.

And a part of me — the one that knew my “hurricane glass” windows would leak (and they did) — was sort of/kind of hoping most of that shit would wash away to sea.

I’m sure that’s what happened to my overpriced storage unit. (I have two — I pay for mine and mom’s down here, and hers up in Pittsburgh. That one is full of … decorations. Ten years’ worth of payments, for decorations. When I’ve bought her everything she’s wanted since then and SO MUCH MORE. She doesn’t understand my resentment.)

In any event, I’m sure my storage unit (here) is a mess. It’s in a low-lying area, and our area got pretty thrashed with rains and uprooted trees and shit. So that’s gonna be a big wet fucking surprise when I get back there.

I found two dresses I hadn’t worn, while I was there. I was so excited about them when I bought them. But they were too small then. So, into the bin they went.

Took them home this weekend and tried them on. They fit fine. Maybe a little loose. But … they looked kind of atrocious on me.

Didn’t find the dress I really wanted. An expensive one. If I’m lucky, the thing is waterlogged. If I’m not lucky, I’ll hate it as much as the other two.

Here’s the thing. I buy things in hopes of wearing or using them SOMEDAY.

Well, guess what. If this hurricane has taught me anything …

It’s that someday is TODAY. Rather, we should treat it that way.

So all my cute Paris stuff … sugar skulls stuff … DRESSES UPON DRESSES that I am saving for outings that haven’t happened yet …

Well, make ’em happen.

When it came down to it, the only things I wanted to save … if I absolutely HAD TO … were things that still had the tags on them.

You know, this shit …

Well, that and six hot-pink storage tubs of hot-pink sugar skull shirts, cookware, rugs, towels, candles and purses.

Know of any hurricane shelters that take pets and a Noah’s Ark of unused shit for your “someday” home?

And it’s not just that. it’s the good Zum Wash patchouli soap from Whole Foods. It’s the Moroccan lotion from fucking Suave of all things that I am absolutely in love with. It’s the “good” Dove Advanced Care deodorant that I save for when my skin is really in need of some TLC. It’s the Lodi wine that I keep holding onto because the place in Ft. Lauderdale that sells it is an absolute pain in the ass to go to.

It’s all the “luxury” shit I save for when I’m feeling worthy of using it … for when I buy a “backup” (Mom makes me buy two of everything. Including towels, rugs, dresses, shirts, and goddamn DECORATIONS. You ALWAYS need a backup, she says. And don’t use “just the one” if that’s all you have). Etc.

So during this hurricane, I wore some of my new T-shirts with tags on them. Drank the wine that I didn’t have “backup” bottles of. Ate the candy from Disney World that I would normally have saved, on the promise to myself that I will get back sooner rather than later to get more.

I know I need to apply this same attitude to many more things. (Career, car, apartment, etc.) But at least I know I need to let go of the shit that isn’t working … or fix what could be working better … to feel much lighter of spirit and, I hope, indebtedness to what’s mostly only holding me back at this point.

And the fact that I’d rather die than do most of it is a sign that I won’t miss it if only I can find something better to replace it with.