Caterwauling

Baltimore’s Washington Monument

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I didn’t go to my high school prom. My gay high school “boyfriend” (whose 37th birthday is today. Whee) took his sixth-grade girlfriend who had moved away for high school so that she could see her old friends. She spent the WHOLE NIGHT with her friends and ignored him.

I do <3 instant karma. 🙂

Anywho, I had the big huge planning session scheduled with my Maryland staff yesterday. My marketing manager and I have mapped out a 7-page manifesto for Q1 and I wanted all the players to bring their input.

We had four surprise guests. Two of whom hate how I run meetings. 🙂

As they all learned today, I’m an ENFP … and plans and structure ain’t my style. 😉

The session went fine. It was pretty silent except for me and two of the unexpected guests. But when those guests left? Everyone got chatty and VOLUNTEERED ownership of the projects I was ready to assign them.

We got more done in five minutes than we did in the prior 40.

I worry sometimes that I am too “nice” or forgiving or even sacrificing, to the tune of giving too much guidance when I should be focused more on the bottom line. And then there are times when I see my personal investment pay off right before my eyes.

I saw that last night.

I’m not perfect. And there are a thousand and 50 things I could do better. But the million-dollar idea was in one of those people in that room. And I will be damned if we don’t earn it on my watch.

I had the world’s best team (and ancillary players) at Ye Olde Workplace Establishment. We were curmudgeonly alcoholics on a good day. But we collectively kicked ass AND had each other’s backs on a great day. There were no titles, no under-bus-throwings. No fear. No real grumblings that weren’t rooted in caring.

I had another awesome team at the Den of Iniquity. You called those guys at 3 a.m. on a Saturday, and they jumped out of bed and did what was asked of them. Maybe not always without a word of complaint. But always to the best of their ability.

I think I have that here. I am such a Momma Bear to my adult “kids,” but they are all so bright and eager and full of heart. (We’ve fired the rest.)

And days when I just don’t have it in me, they give me my spirit back.

I expect they will all prove me right. And make me look good. And right now, I need that. I told them, the talent and the ideas and the ability to see what’s wrong is in front of THEM. I sit on my tuffet in Florida and I can’t see what they see. And while I can do a better job of communicating and coordinating, they’ve got to tell me where the gaps are so that I’m not spackling a wall that’s just fine … or not filling a pothole I don’t see.

I told them I’m their champion. Their barrier-breaker. Bring it to me and let me fix it. That sort of thing.

I figured out the title of the leadership book I want to write. But this is my final case study. I’m done with changing jobs. I told my boss I want to be here for the next five years. I mean it.

Anyway, on a lighter note, we did several hours of teambuilding today. It was fun. We also did a secret santa and had a lovely lunch. And I got my Christmas bonus today. The cab ride from BWI cost more, but I ain’t mad about that, since we’ll be drinking for the next six hours on the company dime. 🙂

Alas, it is prom night. Complete with prom dresses and tuxes. I was going to wear dress boots since it’s a three-block walk and Baltimore’s first snowfall of the season happened today. (Hello ICE on the streets.)

But I ran into people from another of our Florida offices. And they said they’re cabbing it (dress shoes, yo) and said I should come with them. Which, hey, my group is walking but that group is paying for a cab out of the company kitty? Baby, I’m in! I can wear my heels — yay!

And with that, I’m off like a prom dress — gotta go scrub my butt, finish my Malbec and meet the Florida crew in the cab line.

If there are any babies birthed and tossed into the dumpsters, I’ll be sure to report back. 🙂 There are a couple of pregnancies I just learned about so I’ll be drinking for two … er, the two of THEM, that is!!!

Well said

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

We got to see part of the AIDS quilt when we were in Key West. And there was a sticker above the entryway of nearly every bar and store that declared “One Human Family.” And at the Southernmost Point, this mural was beneath our feet as we waited in line to get a photo at the famous buoy.

It got me to thinking about the absurdity of it all. Let’s assume I told you what happened today. And that you have now just picked yourself up from the floor after laughing too hard to catch your breath. And that you wished me good luck tomorrow because, well, it’s not like I can decline the follow-up meeting request. And that I feel better because I am not the crazy one for a change, but ssssh, don’t tell anybody that!

And I wonder how someone so wonderful as Elizabeth Edwards should die so horribly. (I know she’s not the first to die of cancer; but what a woman, you know?) But it was the pain in her life that makes this story so much worse.

The world said goodbye to an amazing woman today. I’ll remember her for fighting for health care for the rest of us, while she advanced through the cancer stages like an overachieving student. How she acknowledged that she had the Cadillac of health plans for herself and worried instead for those without her resources. How she kicked out that (good-looking) bum of a husband for cheating on her because life was too short — and who would know better how short it was, as her days were numbered.

And I look around and realize, wow, everything’s so … unimportant. So I’ll never be a prodigy at (insert inane activity). So I’ll never be able to hit a moving target. Or make above a certain income level. So maybe I never will get my mother out of my house. Or own my own property.

Who cares, really. Was I happy during the days I was given? Was I able to brighten others’ days during my journey? Did I make someone smarter, better, stronger, happier and more confident along the way? (The answer is unequivocally YES on all counts, and I have proof from as recently as today.)

And that’s really all that matters.

No one will remember in 100 years whether I ran an efficient meeting (I can’t. And I DON’T CARE). Or whether I let stuff slide to help others instead. Last I checked, HELPING PEOPLE counts as an achievement.

If I am remembered at all, it had better be for the smile I always had, even when I was screaming inside. For the solutions that i can see, plain as day, when others are too stressed out to see what’s right in front of them. For, not necessarily hugging people often (because I just don’t), but maybe for those rare occasions when I reach out and squeeze someone tight because either A) they need it, or B) I do. For when I could right something that the world had maliciously wronged.

That’s my legacy. I’m proud of it. It comes easily to me. Things that are forced, are not worth doing. Emotions often fail me, but sincerity is not one that I lack. And don’t ever tell me I don’t have my priorities out-of-whack … I guarantee that I put people above projects, and experiences over things. The Great Pumpkin (in the form of profits) will come to the sincerest pumpkin patch. But if the pumpkins ain’t happy, ain’t nobody (especially Momma) happy.

But when everybody’s happy, Momma’s happy. Even if she has to fake it till she makes it. And once it surrounds you, it’s more contagious than this stupid strain of virus I’ve had for the last 35 days.

I don’t need to change “the” world. Just the worlds entrusted to my care, for however long or short a period that is. That’s all I need. That’s all the WORLD needs.

And nobody has the right or the ability to judge me on anything less.

Gulf of Mexico, Mallory Square

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I’ve had this incorrigible illness for a month-plus, and I’m sure it will be aggravated further when I head BACK up north later this week for the corporate “prom.” But alas, there are bigger troubles to have in this world.

I should be working tonight. I might still. Maybe. I feel like, right now, things are shaky there. I have this to-do list that I’ve had 90 days to figure out. And a part of me has been like, “WTF does this have to do with reality?” It’s not that I haven’t been working — believe me, I HAVE. But I’ve felt like what I’m talented at is not what I’m supposed to be working on, but I’ve been working on that stuff anyway.

And then I saw a Joel Osteen episode this weekend that reminded me that you really do serve at the pleasure of whomever is paying you. And what they want from me is what’s good for the business. Even if it’s not my ballywick.

Let’s face it — I COULD do the same thing every day for the rest of my life. Or I can teach as much to it as possible to my staff while taking on all my new projects. I’ve been doing a ton of the former … just haven’t been so hot at learning all the new stuff.

So, I don’t know whether I’d call the employment situation “precarious.” But I’ve felt more confident in my day, sure. I find myself missing the InvestorRanch a lot. I just came in and did my thing. For the better part of five years, whatever I decided was fabulous.

I miss that. I will get back to that place, of course, as soon as I prove myself, I guess.

But it’s easier to prove yourself with stuff that you already know, y’know? If I manage to dazzle people with the database skills I have to acquire, well … yeah. I feel like I forget how to shine. And I hate that.

A part of me just wants to be left alone to supervise. I have people who have either never had a job, or who have never had a sane superior who is actually vested in their professional growth. That’s where I have fun. That’s where I make the most difference.

If I just learn all the other stuff they want me to learn (and let go of all the stuff I’ve already mastered), I’ll get my wish.

I am on a helping kick. Even if I’m not sure the effort is worth it. But I’m willing to throw myself in front of a train on the premise that everybody needs a champion at some point in their lives.

(I could use one myself sometimes. Just sayin’.)

And the one person who NEEDS me as a champion, more than anyone else on earth, is the person inhabiting my master bedroom.

I’ve gone through a spiritual transformation in the past few weeks. I think it was visiting all the southern/mid-Atlantic states with Lady L. Somewhere along the way, I lost my anger. (Not my frustration, unfortunately.) I’ve just come to realize that you only get one mother. And I’d rather we be friends than enemies. And that, frankly, it’s just easier NOT to fight on opposite sides.

That’s pretty much where I am right now. My soul has a high price tag now. Everything I want and love (or WOULD want and love, if only I knew what it was) is out there on the horizon *somewhere*. I want a master’s degree in organizational leadership/psychology. I want a husband. I want a book deal. I want a black AmEx. I want to be bumped up to first class automatically because I travel so much. I want to be free … free, I tell you, FREE … from anything resembling worry or need. I don’t want to EVER need mercy or sympathy or money because I can suffice quite well on my own, with or without those with bigger bankbooks or the ability to make or break me with just one mood swing.

I’m not aiming this at anyone or anything. I just realize in a huge way that it’s the grace of God — and, unfortunately, the occasional human — that determines whether I live in a penthouse or a poor house. And the day I stop worrying is the day that I can flush all my “mind meds” out to sea and start to *feel* again — to see the colors and patterns as brightly as my mind used to form them … to ride the lows to the highs and all the way back around instead of enjoying one mood 24/7 — so I can dig deep into that well and start to write with passion again. To not nod off a thousand times a year because I’m not stimulated enough (caffeine notwithstanding) to continue paying attention.

Maybe next year. Just, gotta do my damndest to get through this one first. [Affix perma-grin and keep remembering that others must have problems, too, to be anything less than chipper themselves.]

Il Bellagio water dance

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

“Oh the North country winters
Keep a-gettin’ me now
Lost my money playing poker,
So I had to up and leave
But I ain’t a-turnin’ back
To living that life no more.”

— Old Crow Medicine Show, “Wagon Wheel”

Hello little blog.

Let’s see. I’ve been in two countries and eight states over the course of two weeks.

I was home for five days before taking off for the Keys. With all the crap breaking down in my apartment, and having a guest to impress, it was the only sensible thing to do!

I think I had my first real vacation. Sure, I have plenty of weekend escapes. But from Thanksgiving Day till Tuesday at 12:30 when I got back to work, I was in a whole different place — mentally as well as physically.

“I see your lips and I wonder who’s been kissin’ them.
I never knew how badly I was missin’ them.
We both know we’re never going to make it,
but when we touch, we never have to fake it.”

— Donnie Iris, “Ah! Leah!”

Oh, what can I say on this page that doesn’t give it all away? Perhaps that I became like the girl in the Corona commercial. Not necessarily lounging on the Gulf of Mexico — although we did visit it — but instead sitting on a balcony atop Duval Street in Key West, holding hands with a special friend and basking in the colors of the sky as the sun went down. Yes, I think that moment encapsulates my weekend very nicely.

“Where have you gone
The beach is so cold in winter here
Where have I gone
I wait in Montauk
With you near.”

— Ryan Star, “Losing Your Memory”

Temperatures in South Florida have dropped from the mid-80s to the mid-50s. I’m glad we enjoyed my area and hopped down to the southernmost part of the state last week and not this one.

Sure, it was hot as hades for most of the escape. But that’s the point of Florida, you know? Getting away from the snow and into the scorching hot sun. It might not get our guests through the whole winter, but it at least gives them something pleasant to remember for a little while.

I have a lot more to say. Words were never my problem. But time and space and privacy, well, are. So I’m going to go to the local Christmas tree lighting, where Santa is scheduled to arrive by helicopter, and not think too much about sunsets, sunrises and everything in between that comprised the earlier part of my week.

“You were from the North
I was from the South
We were from opposite places
Different towns
But I knew it was good
And you knew it was too.”

— Missy Higgins, “Secret”

Luggage at the Unclaimed Baggage Center

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I used to love airports. Till I lived in the Houston airport overnight two weeks ago and had to deal with a canceled flight out of Atlanta yesterday.

Two hours outside of Atlanta is the Unclaimed Baggage Center (pictured). This is where unclaimed baggage is delivered — 7,000 new items per day, or something like that.

It’s disgusting. It looks and smells like a K-Mart. There are racks of lingerie and jackets and sleepwear and bustiers and electronics. Lady L and I bought books there, and that was it. Wearing someone else’s lost clothes creeped us out.

Besides, there was only one of each item. You like a shirt in a small but you’re a large? Good luck with that.

There were tons of Coach purses and Ferragamo shoes and Donna Karan jeans and all kinds of leather coats. Of course, there were also overalls and frosted jeans and other items for which family members probably paid off the TSA to kidnap those bags, so that no one ever saw that ugly crap again.

Anyway, I type all of this to say that when I deplaned in Atlanta and went to look up my connecting flight yesterday, I saw that it was canceled. And when I called Delta’s customer service (WAY more helpful than Continental — er, Cuntinental), they asked if I were willing to fly into another airport. (Heavy sigh. Yes.) And they rebooked me on a flight that was leaving in, oh, five minutes.

Unlike Cunt/Continental that wouldn’t let us board even though it was still sitting at the gate, I made the connection with ease.

Trouble is, my bags didn’t.

When I landed (mercifully) in Florida, I went straight to baggage claim. Whereupon I was told that my bags were no longer in the system.

Comforting. If I didn’t have a 100-degree fever and a cough and laryngitis to boot, I would have been madder that my makeup, meds, perfumes, souvenirs and leather coat (sigh) were somewhere in Georgia … just a two-hour drive from Scottsboro, Ala., and the Unclaimed Baggage Center. Hmmm.

The good news was that today my bags MAGICALLY appeared at my original destination airport, and they were delivered to my door. Which made the $60 in baggage fees seem SO MUCH more worth it!

The amazing part of the story is that my mother — yes, she who does not leave the house EVAR — got up the gumption to come find me. God bless her. Now, I’ve never ridden I-95 at 40 mph before. But hey, it was a ride that saved my life and, quite possibly, my sanity — which was stretched WAY thin at that point.

Somewhere in Atlanta, I got a message from my boss, reminding me that today was potluck day. Ugh. God bless Mom, yet again, for getting up early and making a big pan of rigatoni for me to take.

The woman finally showed some spunk. Who knew she still had it in her?

Anyway, I’m exhausted. I’m hot. I’m cranky. And my throat hurts. But life is as back to “normal” as it’s ever going to get.

And right now, I’m perfectly OK with that.

Sheraton Hacienda del Mar

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, I was at work for maybe four days this week. Who the hell knows. It sucked and I hated it and wanted to die a thousand times.

No, I’m not back at the Den of Iniquity. I’m just coming off of the high of living in Mexico for a week, then living in the Houston Airport for a day (gag) and then dragging my very sick and VERY tired ass through both jet lag AND Daylight Savings.

The only reason I haven’t killed anyone is because that would require having the energy to stab them seven thousand times like they might deserve.

My week in Cabo was … weird. It sure beat any Money Show I worked, although I liked that I could count on hitting Manhattan, Orlando, San Francisco and Vegas (twice!) in any calendar year. Here, I went to Canada (twice!) and Mexico once. UPGRADE!

But … yeah. I bonded with staff. I got a new perspective on people I, well, needed a new perspective on. I went from being supportive for the sake of doing so, to truly championing a particular person. Captivity will do that to you, perhaps. As I said, we needed that bonding time. Perhaps not SO MUCH of it, but it worked out the way it needed to.

Plus, I really had fun talking to all the customers. It was very different from Money Shows. I brought suits, but it was too hot. So I wore dresses and dressy flip-flops. We sat outside in the shade at a table. It sure beat pantyhose, heels and standing all day in a ballroom.

I didn’t see much of my superiors but I did get to know the exhibitors. Which was fun. It all worked out. But while I came back feeling very connected to my people, I feel like I also inadvertently got shoved into an episode of “Revenge of the Nerds.” There are the cool kids, and then there’s the rest of us.

I felt like I got one chance to rush the fraternity. And I didn’t want to. So, I didn’t. Instead, I formed Tri-Lambda and made my own fun.

I saw someone else in a similar conundrum. They chose the fraternity. I think I’m the happier person right now.

I don’t know quite how to explain it, except that you really do have to travel a thousand miles to see what’s in front of you.

This week was hard because of general disorientation on my part. Plus, I’m going to be out of the office all next week. So I had a ton of paperwork, supervision and editorial to shove out the door.

And someone asked me for their “two dollars” today. That they started asking for in September.

I never gave them their two dollars. Because when I offered it four months ago, nobody took me up on the offer.

When they asked for their two dollars, two months ago, I said it was really worth about eight dollars and here’s why. Upon which I was told “I want my two dollars!”

And it’s not that I meant to fail to comply. Just in the grand scheme of things, when you’re responsible for two MILLION on a good month, that two dollars doesn’t mean jack. Especially when “Shiny Object Syndrome” is pervasive, contagious and embedded in the toilet paper. Wait long enough, and you can count on, “What two dollars?”

I got hunted down about five times today for that two dollars. I fell silent. That’s not even the passive-aggressive goddess; it’s the “I’m going to be away for a week and I’m still behind and MY GOD do you people take a check.”

Seriously, TWO DOLLARS.

I finally paid up. In euros, no less. (They’re worth more.) Mostly because I was afraid I’d get a call when we’re driving through Georgia with a heavy breather going, “Two … dollars …”

Here I thought all I needed was a Bumpit and a bitchy attitude to get ahead in business. Who knew that two dollars was all I needed to pledge the fraternity?

In any case, I made a decision after the trip. I don’t give two flying shits about investing. Or publishing, for that matter. I love running events. I love organizational behavior and team management. I love being social and helping customers.

I don’t know what that means for my career. I can coordinate events but that’s not my focus. I can talk to customers but that isn’t, either. I told someone that managing people takes up 60% of my day, and I got some bizarre talking-to about that.

I’m just hoping everyone’s personalities are heightened right now. That was what I told my staff before Money Shows — that you will “meet” your colleagues; rather, the exponential version of them. So-and-so on steroids. So get it in your head right now that people may say and do things that rub your every last nerve raw, but they won’t realize how annoying they are.

And you, yourself will be obnoxious beyond all recognition too. Forgive and forget now, before you have to. And believe me, you will HAVE to.

So once again, maybe I just need to take my own advice.

And maybe, just maybe, I should advance them four dollars so that it’s already in the bank when they come around again. (I hear the Thai baht is the place to be.) Because my mother has lived with me for four years — my patience will clearly outlast anyone’s. And once I’ve accepted that your personality will impact me if I’m not careful, I become immune to it.

That, and I’m too goddamned old to take any of this too seriously.

Here’s to hoping that everyone enjoyed their two dollars and that the joy lasts through my brief return … so that I can call off for the final two days in November with no problems. 😉

I got a rock

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Day 5 in scenic Baja California Sur, Mexico. Or San Jose. Or Los Cabos. Or Cabo. Whatever. 🙂

In any case, three days (of four) of baking in a shaded area where we’re on “booth bitch” patrol. Zero trips to the pool. Zero trips to the beach, but I’d rather be in the infinity pool any day.

I wanted to shove off to Cabo Wabo last night, but not even the “cheese factor” enticed anyone to want to join me. So I’m literally dragging a colleague out to dinner off the reservation, and then we will just HAPPEN to end up there. 🙂

Because I’m the BOSS …. that’s why!

I ended up at a really good restaurant on the fourth floor of one of the timeshares, in a corner table overlooking the Gulf of California. I had a lovely grilled tomato salad served on a bed of Manchego cheese. Then I had “Mexican fondue,” which was a mixture of Manchego, chorizo and pure magic.

There was alcohol. Too sweet and yummy to be considered alcohol Good God, the alcohol I have consumed on this trip. I might not have been able to put on a swimsuit (dear hotel guests: you’re welcome), but I’ve sure had my tequila. (And everyone else’s.) Ole!

I’ve spent a lot of time with a newer staff person. It’s nice to see how far I’ve come, knowledge-wise — not just in our niche industry, but as a manager, since she’s a brand-new one.

The things that are challenging for her are the things that don’t even make me lose a wink of sleep anymore. I hope I’ve been able to help her to bridge some of the gaps she’s encountering. Or, at least, that I’ve corrupted her sufficiently. 😉

Anyway, I’m sure I’ll make up for lost time on that corrupting bit tonight. It’s good to have goals!

Festive cactus

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

This part of Mexico is just Florida with mountains and cacti. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s gorgeous.

The sand is too rocky for my delicate tootsies. South Florida sand wins, paws-down, for the ability to walk barefoot on it.

Says she who walked barefoot from dinner to after-dinner drinks, to the cab and along the long and winding path to my hotel room! Ow!

At least my alcohol consumption is intact. As for infinity-pool time, I’ll probably never manage to find time to go swimming down here. But I did a lot of videotaping today (outdoors!) and I have a lot more to come, so my shoulders managed to get tan. Whee!

I’ve also consumed a “special banana” drink, two mango margaritas on the rocks and a frozen mango margarita, and I’m perfectly sober. And the drinks are s-t-r-o-n-g down here, yo.

There’s sort of a sorority-like feeling here. And I feel like a bit of an iconoclast. Like, in my role I *should* be rushing said sorority. But given the choice between being hazed and going off in a smaller group where I’m the coolest girl EVAR, well, you know what I’m gonna pick. 😉

I’m glad we get some downtime before the big event starts. We never got relaxation time in my old life. Arrive, go to work, work 15-hour shifts, go to your room and work some more, eat with your colleagues, drink heavily on the company dime, and arrive hungover in the morning … just in time for (another) lecture of a lifetime about being five minutes late.

I used to bitch about those days. And I still would. But I do miss the expectation that the group would eat dinner together every night. I know we’re all adults and can arrange our own dinners. But even though there were a thousand times I would rather have been out wandering, I had some of the most-amazing nights of my life, breaking bread with my publisher and my editors.

Ah, trade-offs.

Some things are keeping me awake tonight:

1. Alcoholism. 😉

2. Wondering whether Cabo residents get as kerfuffled at all the signs in English the way North Americans get pissed off at all the signs in Spanish.

3. Contemplating whether I should even go back to the States, after that horrible election today. Expatriation, ahoy?

Infinity pool

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

OK, well, it’s not Paradise City but, hey, at least I’m in Mexico and I haven’t been beheaded or otherwise fatally wounded in a drug deal. Although I’m sure some of you are still holding out hope that my trip is young!

I keep meaning to check out the infinity pool (pictured). But alas, when you work in tropical locales, the emphasis is on the WORK. I did have a good 15 minutes to myself in the sun, though, so I’m counting my blessings.

We had some killer food last night at one of the hotel restaurants. I took one of our newer staff people out to dinner. And for as downright frustrated as I get sometimes, it was a good reminder that I’m here to shape the next generation. I mean, I’m here to make money for the company. And the “how” is a moving target on a good day. But consistency is for cake batter. In any case, I really do have mostly good people who actually take me seriously. 🙂

In any case, now that I’ve had authentic Mexican food, I’ll never be able to eat it again. Except, of course, when it comes to Fourth Meal. I could go for a soft taco right now. …

The trip down here was uneventful, save for one of my people choosing (in my opinion) to miss their flight yesterday due to not being called for carpooling. You don’t “forget” that your flight is on Monday, not Tuesday, without a reminder.

One of my colleagues has his money on me being impregnated by an entire mariachi band. I haven’t see any mariachis yet (whew!) but there ARE crazy Mexicans roaming our private beach, trying to sell us shit illegally.

There are several little vendors on site, and I picked up a lovely silver ring. Paid way too much for it. But it’s my souvenir. Funny, though, but they saw my big-ass blue-stone ring that I brought with me here and they thought it stunning. I paid five bucks for it at Target. I should have asked to trade!

The room is beautiful. I’m on the ground floor with a lovely deck and a view of the Gulf of California.

And we’re coming back here in Q1 for an editorial fiesta — the hotel is making us overpay by a certain amount, which will come to us as a resort credit. (The chain is independently owned outside the U.S., so we can’t transfer the credit.)

I can’t wait to come back, since my freedom ends in about an hour (working cocktail party!) and captivity proceeds through Saturday.

I don’t know who has texted me more — Obama and his damn Democrats or my idiot mother. My phone bill is gonna be nuts once again. And CVS has called the most, to remind me about prescriptions. How is it that my phone can be silent for three weeks, but then everybody hunts me down when I’m paying international roaming rates? *double-barreled salute*

Let’s see — oh yeah, I bought some black cherry mini-cigars. Which suck. And I got 200 pesos out of the ATM. And I’m learning to tip without being able to access any iPhone apps for currency conversion.

Incidentally, 200 pesos is worth about 20 bucks in U.S. dollars. Which means a $20 (in pesos) is worth about $2. I guess you could say that the same is true for the greenback, when you look at it that way!

Oh well, another half hour of work, then butt-scrubbing, then schmoozing. This is the best part of my job. Even if I’d rather be in the hot tub overlooking the Gulf instead…

George and Cow

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I always said that for as long as Lady L lives in Florida, I don’t need a dog of my own when George has enough cuteness to go around.

So now that she’s leaving, do I need a dog? Meh. Like the UEOEH needs one more reason to stay here.

I think she has amnesia. She forgets all the fights and tension and stress in the house, and texts me about going out to dinner. At a Mexican place. When I’m leaving for Mexico TOMORROW MORNING.

Not to mention, but I haven’t hung out with her since Easter, save for one trip up to Boston’s on the Avenue. She convinces herself I’m embarrassed of her. I’m embarrassed instead that 18-year-old kids can live on their own and I CAN’T.

Today she pitched all the leftovers in the fridge from when she made lasagna and a couple other types of pasta. Then she promptly said to her friend on the phone, “There’s nothing for me to eat here.”

Asshole.

It’s my fault, don’t’cha know, that there is nothing for her to eat at my house?

I left the rent check out. Maybe she will turn it in. I doubt it. I just want her to see how BIG it is — it’s four times what she was paying in Pittsburgh. To see that maybe she can, I don’t know, swing her own car insurance payment or toss in a few $20s for cable each month since she insists on living here.

One of my boys in Ohio said I should visit, if ever I’m in his ‘hood. Methinks it’s time to drive the UEOEH up there, drop her off at the cousin’s house, and fly my ass back alone.

And that, friends, is my Christmas wish. You wouldn’t want to disappoint a girl, would you now, Santa?