Caterwauling

Yet another friend at work said goodbye to me. Yesterday was his last day. Found a new opportunity elsewhere.

He was a class act and didn’t say anything else. And I’ve gotten pretty rehearsed at saying, “The loss is ours” and meaning it with my whole heart, while also conveying my unspoken understanding.

We shared one last laugh, wished each other luck, and parted ways for good.

Related: Only 30% of Americans report being engaged at work

Funny, I drove behind him going home and he didn’t floor it and take off like a bat out of hell.

I guess I always expect people to do that drive for the last time with some flourish. God knows when we move the office later this year, I’ll be four-wheeling in the Sunfire like my ass was ablaze.

So I pulled over last night in a questionable part of town to get something out of the trunk. I got back in the car, turned the ignition and shifted the car into drive.

Unfortunately, a screw or something is loose because the car? Can’t be shifted. It sits there and basically looks at me when I throw it into first or reverse.

I noticed the gearshift was falling apart last week. About the same time something plastic came out of one of the windows that seals it shut. And long after two other pieces of plastic on the dashboard have come loose and I have to pound them into place at least three times per commute to work.

This is Mom’s car. Mine is pretty unusable, as the tires sound like the Three Stooges (with a constant “woop woop woop” sound). I drive that thing up and down U.S. 1 but I wouldn’t dare put that sucker on I-95.

So, yeah. Had to get the POS towed back home, since it was a Saturday night and the mechanic isn’t open till Monday and Mom wouldn’t let me have it towed there because it would be stripped.

The driver was nothing like my Howard who rescued me at Ye Olde Alligator Farm. Howard brought diagnostic tools and got Samantha working long enough to get me home and back and home again. Carlos laughed in my face when I asked if he could make the repair. Carlos was kind of an idiot in general, especially when he thought he could ask me out and I’d accept.

I could point out the many things he did wrong, but when he said the car wasn’t going to stay still in its parking spot here at home and what could I do to help, I lost it. I said, “Emergency brake, moron.” Although since the car is in a perma-“park” state, I didn’t see the point but whatever. Maybe I made him nervous. And he would have been cute if he could have been HELPFUL. But alas, he was no Howard.

So I get to get the car towed AGAIN tomorrow morning. Oh I cannot wait. This will be Stewie’s third time on a truck. (I call him Stewie because his red paint is peeled and he looks like a stewed tomato. Fucking Florida weather has killed my paint jobs.)

I don’t know how to “work it” with work. The mechanics are only open 8 to 5 weekdays. Somebody has to be here to fetch the car prior to my normal 9 p.m. arrival time at home. I just hope they can get it done tomorrow and that nobody has a problem with me working from home. (Oh, to be able to use vacation time …)

The good news is that I’ve been needing to get to the mechanic anyway and I haven’t had time to drop off Samantha to get new brakes so that I could drop off Stewie to get his work done. So, Stewie gets priority.

There’s a car I’ve been eyeing at one of the dealerships on my way to the satellite office. And by eyeing, I mean drooling over. It’s out of my price range but the spoiler and sunroof are so very worth it. But I am so terrified of taking on a loan. I need a damn vacation before I get a car.

Oh well. Right now I’m thanking God that I was somewhere safe (well, morons shooting off fireworks nearby aside) and had a full tank of gas and plenty of A/C while I waited for help. But the car is such a metaphor for me — it’s going to take going into total breakdown mode for me to deal with the sneaky hate spiral of escalating problems. It’s just a shame that I have to take care of the car first.

Thank you, God, for helping me to hang in there till it’s “my turn.”

Apparently red yield signs are for decoration in my ‘hood. There’s a weird intersection when you’re coming off the island, and it’s a triangle-shaped roundabout. I have the right of way to go left but some ninny in a big-ass truck didn’t realize that he had to stop before going straight. Anyway, I almost got wiped off the road and there were just not enough expletives to make that pain go away.

And then there are all the assholes who pull out from side streets and gas stations who SOMEHOW DO NOT SEE my little red jalopy. One of these days I’m going to flip my shit. I really am.

Half my team is working from home today. If only my little Mac were compatible with these wonderful systems, I’d be among the pants-free set today. Sigh.

So, yesterday’s commute? From sweet, sweet hades, I tell you.

Left the office around 8, per usual. The days are getting longer and I drive from West to East, so I get to see a lot of different-color skies as I travel what feels like about three time zones.

I chose silence in the car once again over music. When I’m stressed to the hilt I choose not to speak. When I’m one step beyond that, I can’t handle any more information coming into my brain.

By 9-ish when I got home last night, I was shaking.

The moment I pulled out of the lot and onto the real road, the asshole cop who pulled me over last year and gave me the wonderful ticket and that same ticket that got me a license-suspension notice because I didn’t complete traffic school by some imaginary deadline nobody gave me decided to follow me for a mile. That was fun. Asshole.

But it gets better.

And by better, I don’t mean that word.

The first leg of the journey is on a truck route. So, having 18-wheelers behind, in front of and beside me was a slight annoyance. The fact that they wouldn’t let me pass or break free for 13 miles was no picnic either.

Finally I get on the freeway, where a state trooper decides to tail me for 11 miles. There were two different cars at different points on the side of the road, their owners clearly in distress. Did this nitwit pull over? Hell naw.

I finally lose the state trooper somewhere before my own exit. I jump into the second-to-right-hand lane so I can get the exit and …

*smash* Almost.

I counted seven cars at a dead-stop. The last of which I missed by three inches and only by the grace of God, I assure you. I could hear breaks squealing beside me in the medial as someone else veered off the road to try to miss them too.

You know, nobody down here knows how to drive. Nobody pays attention. You cannot be tired or lost in thought or in a conversation with a passenger down here. Any love you have for driving, this state will kill for you. I promise.

So, life spared and God repeatedly thanked, I finally get to the side streets. I was coming down the bridge to my street, in the left lane, when some idiot on a skateboard fell off the sidewalk. He fell into the thankfully empty right lane but his skateboard? Came sailing at me. Somehow it went under the car and came out the other side.

Then I pulled into my own lot and got out. Whereupon some asswipe comes it at 100 mph and almost knocks me off my feet.

It’s 15 minutes till I normally leave the house and I haven’t even scrubbed my butt. Not that I’m in a huge hurry to start the workday anyway, but I just do not feel like getting in that car and doing another round-trip like the one I had yesterday.

Another friend came to me with good news today. I’m thinking it’s more than my turn to have some of my own. But … what?

Here’s quite the opposite, in fact:

Just got a notice from the county that they’re going to suspend my driver’s license for supposed non-payment of a ticket that they didn’t even have the courtesy to list.

Look, I speed. The worse things get, the more I speed. And I have paid every last dime to this wonderful county that I owed them. Usually within a week of receiving said tickets. OK, so I didn’t do my driver’s ed course. But I paid for it. Can they take away your license for that?

I tried to take the course. But when I finished reading the instructions within two minutes, I got an error message that I was supposed to spend five minutes on that page and to go spend my remaining three minutes reading the fucking instructions.

That was the last time I bothered logging in.

Fucking government.

Gee, if they take away my license, I won’t be able to drive to work anymore! Which is where I get most of my tickets anyway. Hmmm.

In any case, clearly the county government sucks as much as the state. I hear Gov. Rick Scott refused funds to set up the ObamaCare program down here, so the feds are going to have to build it for us. What a fucking dick. Why can’t someone suspend his ability to drive so he can’t go ruin our state a little bit more, every day that he arrives at his office?

It’s been a great weekend, minus that speeding ticket I got on Friday night. Who knew that going 85 in a 55 is frowned upon? See, my problem was that I kicked out my staff early in preparation for Hurricane Sandy. (Which mostly turned out to be a non-event.)

Word to the wise? If you want to stay safe in a hurricane, MOVE TO FLORIDA. Yes, ponder the irony.

Irony also exists in the fact that our cops and firemen were on the evening news the night before, telling us that if winds exceeded 45 mph, don’t even bother calling them. You get yourself into a jam, YOU figure it out.

So why the fuck weren’t these assclowns at home when I was trying to get my own happy ass home (to watch a marathon of “Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids Edition”)?

I told the cop I should have worked till 8 like I usually do — nobody pulls me over when I’m going 85 THAT late!

I deserved that ticket. But damn, it hurts to think about ALL THAT MONEY. That, and the fact that I have so many tickets from this year alone that I can’t do anything but go the speed limit for a LONG LONG TIME.

Oh well, the real point of this entry is to say that YES, it has been a great weekend. Had a lovely lovely alcoholic brunch yesterday with one of my nearest and dearest. Which was completely worth the swim we had to take across the parking lot, since we decided to drink our breakfast on the ocean.

And I had a wonderful night, too. Spent it with my favorite local boy. (*waving smelling salts for those playing along at home*) I don’t know … I think we might finally have this “friend” thing down pat.

I had such a good time. Seriously, I really really really enjoyed myself. And I was honest about a few things that have been troubling me. But now that I’ve had the chance to say them, I feel like I am finally at peace. And that we can, if we do continue being friends — which I sincerely hope we do — move forward from the same place.

I may be severely behind in my work, but on a personal level, I could not be happier with all the progress that took place in just the space of one day.

Thank you, universe. Maybe not so much for the ticket, but for giving me the glue known as friends to put this Humpty Dumpty back together again.

Another day, another set of fruitless negotiations with the car dealer.

Someone explain to me how paying $269 a month over six years with $3,000 down is a deal on an $18,000 car. Seriously.

Also explain how my Blue Book value is $2,100 and they say $500 is the best they can do.

Well, I get it. I’ve been arguing nonstop with this dealer for now three days. I’ve got a great insight into the car biz.

At this point, I could go either way on the car. Yes I know I’m getting ripped off. But as someone pointed out to me, the light went out in my eyes recently. Not that they had seen it since I was about 18. And this stupid car was the only thing that made me kind of happy. Not sparkling like I was, but kind of excited about something for a change.

I can’t keep working this hard and tolerating this much disappointment in the life and love department without SOME amount of reward in sight. This would do the trick.

However, being leveraged to the eyeballs wouldn’t exactly do wonders for my peace of mind either. Between monthly IRS payments and a few brand-new expenses that I can’t help (I assure you, NOTHING benefits me these days), this ain’t car-payment time.

This time next year, when I’ve moved and settled into a less-expensive (and, please God, more-spacious) place, I can pick up a payment again. The IRS problem will have been solved. I’ll have hopefully been promoted again. 😀

But this adorable little car in the custom color will also be long gone.

Nobody would love that car the way I do. Not sure why they won’t make me a deal I can’t refuse.

Of course, I say the same about the men in my life.

And frankly if a boy isn’t putting a sparkle in my eye, something has to, and the car is the closest thing I’ve got today.

Not only do I already have her name picked out but I just bought a new iPhone case in the same color as the car. So that way, I’ve satiated my need to make a purchase.

And even if the car isn’t meant to be mine, I’ll always remember that brief, shining moment when it was.

Have I done enough moving on this year … is it time to take a leap of faith again and maybe fly this time? Or is this a year for moving on and better things being worth the (damn near soul-crushing) wait?

Back in college, we all used to tell each other, “Have a day!” before going off to classes and work-study jobs and other adventures. It quickly morphed into, “Have a shitty day,” because that’s usually what happened.

But the original sentiment is ingenious. Have a day. That, you will achieve. No failure there. See — that really DOES start you off on a positive note!

I debated whether to announce to old friends/Facebook/loyal readers that I’m back. But I almost feel like I’d be doing everyone a disservice. I mean, I didn’t blog during the happiest few months of my life — and I pick NOW to come back? Lord. Don’t I at least owe you people some joy and sage words about life, work and love?

(Stop laughing!)

So the big thing happening right now is car-shopping. Something not done since the days post-9/11 when I decided that relying on public transportation (which had shut down while I was at work in a terrible part of town) was no longer an option. I went to the nearest dealer, pointed and took home my car.

And here I am over a decade later (and older), doing it again.

I found my car. I LOVE THIS FUCKING CAR. So it doesn’t have a sunroof. The guy said he’d kick one in for free. I said knock the price down by the $1,500 that it would cost and we’ll talk.

No dice. It’s impossible to get a good deal on a used car in this economy … even one as tricked-out and shiny and colorful as this one. Le sigh. Everybody wants a used car. It’s a seller’s market, even though consumer confidence is crap as far as I can tell.

They are however trying to get me into a 2013. That I like less. Way less. Oh and it costs five grand more. Of course. They said they didn’t want to take a loss on the car. Um, I was the only person in the dealership for the FIVE HOURS they kept me there. Lose three grand off the sticker or let me walk away from a $20K car. Hmmm. OK.

I’ve just dumped so much money into my little Samantha Jones (clearly you can tell what I was watching on TV when I bought it), especially recently, that I cannot bear to take care of the pending repair bill. I could have put a down payment on a friggin’ house, after what I spent this past fiscal quarter. So do I do the next set of repairs and pray that THIS TIME IT’S FINALLY IT, since I truly have now replaced EVERYTHING on her … or do I say fuck it and GIMME MAH DREAM CAR, YO?

I’ve spent too much time un- or under-employed to trust that life will be happily hunky-dory from now into the hereafter. I try really hard. I work a lot. I mean well. But my industry has been a disaster. I think my company is the only one that’s actually going to make it. But I see what other companies (including several ex-employers) are doing to “make it,” and it ain’t pretty.

I thank God every day for the good job and the resources to do it and the paycheck that lets me live on the ocean. And I know God wants us to stretch our faith. I think He does want me to have my cute little car, too.

I’ve prayed on it and talked to Him about it. (I could swear I heard Him tell me to fund a Roth IRA with the downpayment amount instead, but that could have been a hallucination. I have enough psychic flashes to qualify me as crazy and that might have been one of them.)

Anyway, for logical purposes, I need the car. Rather, “A” car. I’ve been running the wheels off of Mom’s, which has been nice since I pay the insurance on it and I’m finally getting my money’s worth. But I want a car that, when I take her on the Miami Expressway, she actually ACCELERATES and doesn’t get me damn near killed.

And my new little would-be car accelerates by mind control, yo. Practically, anyway.

Some girls go to the mall when they’re depressed — I go to the auto mall!

Alas, I think common sense will win out. It always does. Eventually.

The rent’s a bitch and the home sitch is status quo. I’m also afraid that I’d be buying the car because I have control over NOT A DAMN THING ELSE and this would be my way of telling the world, well, a girl’s gotta get her way once in a while.

Just once, I want to know I can do something without it biting me in my ample butt. What to do, what to do …

So anyway, yeah. Had a day. Had a few days. Had a couple of weeks. And I’m wondering whether having this cute little new car would make the smiles come a little more easily again, like they did back when the world looked a little rosier through my eyes.

Heh heh heh

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Look at the puppy. The puppy is cute, yes? All is well when you’re hanging out with a cute, furry little puppy. That is why we are looking at the puppy.

That’s George, by the way, my beloved fur-nephew — ready to come home after a lovely weekend in St. Auggie’s. He’s also the one who took a smelly shit in the copywriters’ office on Labor Day when I brought him in here so I could get some work done in silence. Whoops — who knew he would go upstairs all by himself? What a big boy! (And frankly, I’m not surprised that he picked the spot he did. Just sayin’.)

This has been one motherfucker of a week. I have a meeting in 9 minutes as a follow-up to another meeting and we’ll probably schedule another meeting to meet about this one. Motherfucker!

Seriously, I like my job. I have just had some stressful days, and my “Oh, you haven’t done that, either?” list is longer than my list of reasons why I want my mother to move out.

Today I got a call from my boss that she was in an accident. And to start the 9 a.m. meeting without her.

It was 8:53 and I was cruising along the A1A. Meeting? FUCK!!!

So I punched the gas and a cop going northbound PROMPTLY did a U-turn and pulled my southbound ass over.

One of my team members (because clearly nobody was going to make it to this meeting!) advised me to unbutton my shirt. Which I did. The speeding ticket? Was waived.

However, genius still hasn’t registered her car in Florida. And my tags are three months expired. My friend JB let me know that at six months, I could get arrested. Whee! Thank God to have a cop-in-training for a friend!

So yeah, that ticket was warranted. It was hilarious though, as I got the same ticket in Virginia and it was like $300. This was $115. I asked if I could pay cash right then and there. 🙂

I also put on my makeup while I was pulled over. I am a multi-tasker, yo!

Got treated to a lovely, lovely dinner last night. Discovered a tasty “baby Amarone” that Mama Like. I appreciate people who can sense my stress and actually do something about it other than antagonize me. (Thank you, thank you!!!)

I’ve been too busy working to really plot my next move. But my beloved Lady L (George’s mom) and I are cooking up a scheme. We are also planning a Christmas trip, and another for St. Patty’s Day.

In other words, this is all just a dream. It’s not particularly memorable, and nor do we need for it to be. Each day is just a bridge to the next great experience.

I don’t remember much about anything anymore. And that says something. But I have all the hope in the world that as long as we can keep smiling and stay nimble, the wind will blow us exactly where we’re supposed to be.

I decided to roll up to the Bed Bath & Beyond in Rockville, Md., as it is was my favorite location of that store. And I will gladly give away all my BBBY discount coupons to anyone who wants ’em, ’cause I ain’t going back there.

The store’s fine and delightful. It’s the customers who’ve turned me homicidal today.

I was having a perfectly pleasant day till I pulled into the parking lot. As I was pulling in, a car was leaving. It was too awkward to pull in and I didn’t want to block traffic, so I waited till the guy left (I went past the spot) and backed in.

It was a first spot — the type of spot I never get. The holy grail of parking spots, if you will, during this ridiculous holiday season. (Whoever said we’re in a recession clearly hasn’t shopped in Montgomery County lately.)

So anyway, I needed to straighten the car because I didn’t pull in very well. And this raving lunatic cunt who had wanted the spot — and CERTAINLY felt entitled to it — because she’d been behind me, decided to park right in front of me. Like, BLOCkING ME IN.

I figured she was trying to be intimidating. But you know, for all the spots that have been stolen from under my nose, and for all the assholes who went through the four-way stops when it was my turn to do so, and for the dumb bitch at the previous parking lot (Old Navy) who took SO FUCKING LONG to vacate a spot that I just simply moved on to another one, I wasn’t exactly concerned that I had ruined her day.

So I was fussing with stuff in the car. I wasn’t getting out. She and her two kids all shoved their ugly faces out of her window and GLARED at me. I looked up once or twice and went back to rooting around in my purse for my BBBY coupons.

After I’d wasted at least five to seven minutes and a Beltway-sized traffic jam was consuming Congressional Village, I finally looked at her. With a big smile.

She wasn’t going anywhere and those ugly, surly faces still stared back at me.

I shrugged and said, “What?”

She yelled that I am a “very rude and inconsiderate young woman who TOOK MY SPOT.”

I said, “And?”

I mean, WTF, right? I couldn’t pull out WITH HER BLOCKING ME IN. And God forbid I get the good spot so I can run right and use the bathroom quickly, since my bladder has the capacity of a shot glass. GOD FORBID GODDESS GETS A FUCKING BREAK ONCE IN A WHILE.

She kept saying — with EXAGGERATED PATIENCE — what a terrible person I am. I liked my spot but I admit, I was afraid to get out lest the cunt whore would dent it. In retrospect, I realize it’s already dented so what’s a little more damage?

And seriously, the traffic jam was out of control. So I figured, fuck it. Even though she was convinced I was the Antichrist, I would be the better person and leave the spot.

I debated ramming her. I really did. If she wanted to prove a point, so could I. I can out-cunt any of you cunty cunt bitch whores out there. Don’t test me. That’s all I’ve got to say.

In fact, I did turn on the car. Ugly whore and her ugly kids were all still giving me the same ugly look. I hoped God would freeze their faces like that. Of course, maybe those WERE their faces. Who knows?

I thought OK, maybe fat bitch couldn’t waddle very far. I was trying to be nice (that was as close as I could get). My fat ass might be healthier and could stand to walk a little farther.

Now, I refuse to be intimidated. But as I debated about whether to ram the whore or to actually tell the fucking cow to move her ugly family out of my goddamned way, I figured it just wasn’t worth it. She seemed perfectly happy to park there for the next two hours. And I’m sorry, I gots shit to do. (Well, more like “piss” to do, but whateev.)

So she’s still telling me how little she thinks of me in her extreme-calm voice. I yelled. “Fine. How do you expect me to move if you keep sitting there?”

So she moved the car in reverse, creating even more chaos in the parking lot. As I drove by, I yelled, “Since having this spot is so FUCKING important, enjoy it!”

She yelled back in a “nice” voice, “You’re such a rude person.”

I said, “Oh yeah? Well FUCK YOU.”

I of course could not find a spot in the rest of the lot but her very-able ass walked into the store with her two kids (who were middle- and high-school aged) just fine.

I did park and did make it into the store. I noticed I was walking around with a very tight fist. Don’t make me use my left hook on you. My rings alone will cause some dents. And if my jewelry breaks on your face, it’ll only piss me off more.

I did see those dumb bitches in the store. And you know, factoring out their ugly faces in mine in the parking lot as they BULLIED ME out of my spot, they actually could have been considered attractive.

And instead of punching them (I wasn’t seeking them out, I promise! They just happened to be blocking me from leaving an aisle. Now who’s rude and inconsiderate?), I decided to feel sorry for those kids.

I’m sure the mother was trying to make this a teachable moment to stand up for what you feel entitled to, and to use intimidation as force and to never, ever raise your voice.

Misguided, much?

I’m always bemused by people who resort to name-calling and insult-hurling when they are out of other options to resolve a situation. I can just imagine them cussing me out long after I’ve laughed them off. (Laughing *at* them, let’s be clear, not *with* them.)

I know that’s what wounded people do — pitch a bitch and use foul language to express their frustration. It’s not a grown-up way to handle a situation, but I hate to say, I understand feeling like you’ve just got to let people *know* how much you hate them.

And yes, that’s what I did here. But anyone who knows me, knows that swearing is just a way of life. I have so few vices — don’t take my “fuck” word away from me. 😉

And maybe I *am* growing. I did not tell her how I plan for her to perish. (I’m thinking fire, as in DIAF.) I figured someone THAT intent on proving a point to her kids probably didn’t curse much. I was actually going to yell, “And by the way, there’s no Santa!” but I certainly didn’t want to ruin it for the GOOD citizens of MoCo just because this twat nozzle was worthy of that and so much more.

Although I was HIGHLY tempted to go let the air out of the tires of her silver Nissan — Maryland plate M542627 — I figured she can stay smug all she wants to but I’m still the better person for not feeling the need to inconvenience the City of Rockville to prove a point or try to intimidate someone who is just trying to get through a day, too.

I admit I was annoyed to see all the crap in their cart. Her family is having a Christmas. Mine isn’t. I ain’t got shit to celebrate. Thanks for taking away my joy for the brief amount of time I allowed her to do so. Whore.

Again, I’m trying very hard to think that maybe she simply needed to win a battle (that didn’t have to be one) to feel whole and good and not take it out on her kids. I dunno. I’m not feeling overly sympathetic right now. The way I look at it, I solved a traffic jam that she created. I got some exercise. And I was too annoyed to really shop and therefore didn’t spend any money in the store.

So, really, didn’t I emerge the winner in this?

But if anyone sees that car on the road and just so happens to cut her off, hit her as she’s traversing a crosswalk, or otherwise shove a large Christmas tree up her ass, color me grateful and know that I appreciate that more than anything Santa could bring!