Pricks and perks

September 19th, 2017, 9:19 AM by Goddess

I got to talking with one of my fellow “Survivors” from the old team. I mentioned how my most-recent (short-lived) boss de-friended me on social media. We laughed for a moment. And he said,

“Doesn’t he realize how happy you were in (previous town/building) with your original, handpicked team? Does he seriously think you had anything to do with what’s happened since? You could be sitting comfy in your chair, with a Starbucks in your backyard, your hair in pigtails and wearing shorts. You didn’t ask for any of this. And you handled it pretty darn well. And guess what, you deserve your promotion!”

I thought that was interesting. Especially given that I have access to some salary information and I have a good guess how much he was making. Hint: A LOT. Meanwhile I was doing the job … for about 40% less … if my estimates are right. And 70% better, IMHO.

In any event, we’ve made more changes and I kind of am back to a smaller version of my handpicked team. So, there’s that.

I’ve also been grousing that one of those people (not one of my picks, though) is getting some special favor for some bizarre reason.

But you know what? That’s fine.

So what if I had to earn all my breaks? So what if I had to get broken in the process? So what if no one, say, threw $30 at me to replace my brand-new groceries they threw out for no reason?

Fuck ’em. I’m still here. My rent is still getting paid at the end of the month. I lived through a damn hurricane and have another Cat-5 storm heading up the same path right as I type this. There are bigger things to worry about than someone else getting a damn perk in this world.

I still miss my old life. But now I can say, I miss the GOOD parts of it. I don’t miss the bad ones anymore. Not as much as I did these past few months, anyway.

But damn I miss my fridge. Which I guess I have to pay to replace. Because again, why should I expect a perk? And that’s probably why I have been so pissed off in the first place.



‘If this is it …’

September 8th, 2017, 6:42 PM by Goddess

I’m wondering whether my life has been reduced to a Huey Lewis and the News song lyric.

Hurricane Irma was supposed to be a Category 3 hurricane by the time it came to my hood. Then it was 5. Then 4. Now it’s back up to 5.

God doesn’t like Mar-a-Lago. Or any other Trump properties, judging by the locations this storm has hit. But why take us good-hearted Hillary voters out with his gaudy decor that the government will probably pay to restore?

Maybe he’ll come out and sell his shitty $40 hats like he did to Hurricane Harvey victims …

I don’t feel like we’ll be all right. That’s probably from Mom the Psychic saying “we’re done for” every hour.

We had a great week in Orlando. I drove us back a day early (last night) though. The hotel couldn’t extend our stay. And every other hotel that had rooms faced water slides and volcanoes and other bizarre shit. Besides, yesterday Irma was projected to whack Orlando directly.

In any event, I was just about the only car driving south as the whole state heads north to Georgia and the Carolinas and beyond. So I’m either the smart one or the dumb one. Not real sure at this point.

We have a curfew starting at 3 p.m. tomorrow in my county. Wal-Mart closed at noon today. (I was there before 7 a.m.) Publix closed at noon, as did my storage unit place. (Whose general manager’s name, I learned today, is Irma.)

There’s only gas to be found on the turnpike and the stations just off 95. You’re shit out of luck if you try anyplace else.

Got some pizza at my favorite joint tonight and a cheeseburger from McDonald’s for the cat.

It’s 7:30 p.m. now and it’s already a ghost town. Pretty sure Target is the last game in town, although the cashier at Mickey D’s said they will be open till curfew time tomorrow.

I have to say I’m impressed that just about everything else is closed. I did my preparing in Orlando. (As much as I could do without being able to buy plywood, metal shutters or a generator. Or ice. Gah my ice maker is broken and damn landlord won’t pay to fix it.)

Got a boatload of cat litter and all her favorite foods. Don’t have much hoomin food beyond lentil chips, chocolate animal crackers, wine and tea.

And the HOA has zero fucks to give about it all …

It’s Friday night and we expect this shit to hit Sunday morning through Monday at midnight. On the early side. FPL already warned us we WILL be without power, for perhaps weeks.

I worry because I’m on a middle floor. And also parked on the middle floor in our garage.

* Good: No flooding from the lake and bordering canal below. And not the top floor so no worries about my roof blowing off.

* Bad: It rains sideways in Florida. And 180 mph winds hitting a building that was constructed AFTER the last major hurricane to blow through. So, untested. And not sure the car won’t blow away or that I won’t get impaled with idiot neighbors’ unsecured furniture.

Anyway. More bad than good and I’m not done yet.

There aren’t a lot of positive scenarios in my mind out of this. I love my mom and kitty but I get stir-crazy. Also I see work piling up in my inbox (but I’m on vacation, as if THAT were a thing) and it’s making me nuts. I did try to secure my storage unit but I didn’t do a good job in the hour I had because I didn’t know it was closing. (Also, it’s 100 degrees here and there’s no a/c in that thing. Much like the state of my apartment come Sunday afternoon, no doubt.)

What if mom is right and we ARE done for? Have I done enough? Had enough fun? Seen enough of this world? I honestly would not have come back but she insisted we needed her “PAPERS.” If I’m going to die for that, I’ll cry.

She said we aren’t fighters. If this is the end, we won’t make it, she says. And I think I’ve had just enough togetherness (and working for a living. Hell, i finally got promoted. I can die happy, right?) to open the sliding glass door at peak wind velocity and throw myself into the overflowing swamp-cancer lake.

I always say an open door is an invitation. If this is it, indeed … why fight it?



I’m going to say something nice

June 22nd, 2017, 7:40 AM by Goddess

But it will take a minute to get there. 

I was pondering the value of anti-harassment training when the (rumored) biggest offender isn’t even there. 

Then it hit me. Where did that rumor originate?

From the same shit-stirrer who tells everyone how “negative” I am — and everybody else is. 

That is the one who very publicly branded this person as an offender. 

So …

What if all the talk about the alleged offender being an offender is just plain wrong too?

I mean, I think the person is fine. Cordial at least. I don’t know much else. Professional as far as I can tell. 

And really, I’d trust my judgment over anyone else’s. So I’m going to make my own decision there.

Shame others don’t seem to follow my logic. 



Still doesn’t explain the no-talent assclowns 

June 15th, 2017, 6:11 PM by Goddess

I HAD these kinds of people in my tribe. Mediocre men destroyed that. Why does God want me to lose great people and replace them with what I’ve got now?



Today, deux

January 17th, 2017, 7:29 PM by Goddess

Today would have been Sia’s 32nd birthday.

She’s been on my mind all day. She’s never far from my mind, really.

Facebook Memories has her thanking me profusely for whatever I did for this birthday many years ago. In a way, it’s like she never really left. But then when you go to call …

I’ve reached out to her mom and sister. They don’t reach back. I figure I was close with her while they weren’t, and vice versa. We could fill in some blanks for each other.

But that’s how it works. Blanks don’t get filled. You don’t get to say goodbye and doors get slammed in your face, if you even get a door in the first place. (Which most don’t.)

I like to think the universe hates a void and works to fill it. A pet dies, you get another. A job ends, someone else who was dying to hire you finally gets the chance. A relationship ends, something better comes along. Right?

Not in my experience. You can be single for 40 years. No one to step in for friends who died or voted for Trump. (Same thing, really.) There’s no replacing a parent or a sibling who’s gone. And judging by how many people are sleeping on the streets because who the fuck can afford two grand for a studio down here, jobs don’t magically appear because you want one.

I tried to think of the best way to honor Sia today, since she’s gone and I’ve never had a friend like that before or since. And perhaps never will again.

Working 24 hours straight sounds about right.

But I went the other direction and left right before 6. Pile of unfinished work be damned.

This after an IM at 4:30:

White-on-white: I can’t finish that today. Almost quitting time.

Me: (I worked all weekend and only had yesterday off and I’m STILL behind and you won’t stay 15 extra minutes?)

Sia would have had a few choice words for the situation. I don’t care either way, honestly. I’ll regret leaving on-time-for-me tomorrow. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll be white-on-white and be perfectly fine feeding my mom at a reasonable hour and watching “This is Us” together like we love to do on Tuesdays.

Miss you, Sia. You were the only one out there just like me. With the disease to please. It took you. And I want to beat its ass for that. 

Love you, girl. So, so much love, today and forever. Knock Trump’s wig off for me, OK? I’ll know it’s you …