Bee's Musings

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The Asinine Asylum

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Thu, 15 Jan 2015 19:30:00 +0000

The Asinine Asylum

New Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Mon, 05 Jan 2015 18:58:00 +0000

Life in the Bee Lane

Tough love, the cure for what ails the dependent youth.

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Fri, 22 Jun 2012 16:12:00 +0000

Yesterday I went to see my little brother’s new apartment. Well, “little” is really pushing the laws of adjectives since he’s actually 29 but he hasn’t seemed to take life as seriously as the rest of us old fogies. Curiously, I know of 2 other people around his same age that seem to subscribe to a more extremely dependent way of life which is to expect the rest of the hard working world to provide them with the help and comfort they “deserve”. So what if they are just reaping the benefits of other people’s struggles? That is not their problem!

The little brother was always grateful for the help but he was also used to not having to be accountable to anybody but himself. I guess it was hard to live by the iron hand of his big sister who rented him the floor above while he and his baby momma got on their feet. The drama and stress this caused, he is also of strong character which means he is as volatile as I am, was sometimes a little more than I could handle. Things came to a head earlier this year with some pretty fucked up, depressing and scary shit happening so it became apparent why there had to be a parting of ways and he would have to leave sooner than he had planned.

Inwardly, I was racked with guilt because I was worried about the many addictions and mental health issues we inherited from the paternal side of my family. Would I get a call in the middle of the night telling me I had to bail him out or worse, come visit him in a hospital? Where would he wind up living? A hovel in the middle of gangland?

Outwardly, I put on a warrior mask and I held strong to the voices around me who, unintentionally I hope, were implying I may have delivered him to the wolves. I held strong by no longer volunteering to give a helping hand even with something as simple as moving his things. I felt I had done enough, you see.

Considering the fact that he was the child I helped raise and would lug around like my baby monkey, it was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Andy was witness to all my breakdowns. This wasn’t the only family issue I was dealing with since it seems the whole fucking world thinks I owe them my life. They don’t realize how draining it is to always try to be the strong one. It turns out, my body was sending out one warning sign after another and I had to finally listen and begin to put myself before others.

When we were driving to his apartment, I noticed how the neighborhood I once lived around had gentrified. It no longer seemed like you had to worry too much about being jumped under the elevated train tracks. I looked appreciatively at the old school construction of the buildings I had never seemed to notice before because my eyes were always glued to the path in front of me with frequent looks behind me to make sure there were no attackers tracking my progress.

The houses surrounding his building had a charming array of flowers and people hanging out on their stoops watching the world go by. I was comforted when I saw his apartment. A clean, small studio with only the bare necessities but perfect for a single man, making his way in life on his own. Currently he is working full time, studying part time and supporting himself 100% of the time. I couldn’t be prouder if he had told me he had won the Nobel peace prize. Okay maybe, that’s a bit exaggerated but I still feel like my heart is filled with all sorts of warm and fuzzies.

He has always been very stubborn, fearless and wanting to do things his way, I can relate, and I am happy that he is back on track to where he wants his life to head. I know he will need us every once in a while but it’ll be easier for me to resume the “big sister” role because I see how hard he is trying.

It’s not easy to grow up, nobody said it was, but you do not get any points in life if you don’t even try.

My review on Snow White and the Huntsman, or, as I like to call it, The Evil Queen, the Huntsman and a Weird Dude with a Moe Haircut.

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Tue, 05 Jun 2012 15:35:00 +0000

As you know, (I really don’t know who I’m referring to when I say “you” but that is how I’m starting this sentence), I am no Roger Ebert (well, except in the being short and having a big personality comparison) but I do love to watch movies and I do like to talk a lot of smack about them if they disappoint me in any way.

I was really looking forward to this movie and Andy did warn me that the previews showed very little of the “Snow White” character which could not be a good sign. But! It was Sunday morning and I was feeling adventurous so we went to the discounted movie matinee.

It started good. The little Snow White at the beginning of the movie did an excellent job. The Evil Queen, who I cheered for throughout the movie, was everything I hoped she would be. The Huntsman was H-O-T with a capital YAWOZA! And even the dude with the Moe hair did great.

Now we come to Kristen Stewart. Did you notice how I didn’t say “Snow White”? That’s because she wasn’t Snow White, she was Kristen Stewart. I get why they cast her. She’s beautiful and fits the description of “skin as white as snow” but they should have stipulated that she would need to take acting lessons if she wanted the role. There’s no shame in that. If I felt my awesomeness was fading, I’d definitely try to do something about it. Eat a couple of hummingbirds or absorb a unicorn, whatever it took.

Her “acting” was as apathetic as I thought it would be. She went from being in a dark forest full of icky things (hallucinations or not, still icky) to a forest full of wonders with the same expression on her face. Vacant. When she received her “true loves kiss”, I was hoping she would give him a loving glance but instead I wondered if she had to make a run for the potty and she was trying to figure out the quickest way to it.

I noticed she didn’t have too many lines so that was a blessing, I guess. My advice to the filmmakers is that they should have filmed the scenes with the young Snow White and then waited for her to grow up to film the rest of the movie.

Also, there were a couple of scenes where the dwarves get close ups while they sing some melancholy song and I have to wonder if this was a good idea. I mean, I sat there staring at a giant shot of a man with screen makeup that made his teeth all brown and gross while he sang a sad song and all I wanted to do was giggle.

If you want to see this movie, go to the early showing and pay the discounted rate or wait for it to come out on DVD or watch the trailer and pretend you watched the whole thing because we all know how the story ends.

And they lived expressionlessly ever after.

Blah.

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 18:18:00 +0000

So, today was a peculiar day. I woke up in a crappy mood, as per usual, got in the shower and then got ready for work. I had picked out an outfit which I discarded as soon as I looked in the mirror. I went to plan B, then plan C, then plan D then, then I just sat down on the bed and debated if I should call in sick. But I couldn’t call in sick because my brother-in-law would be in my house and my misery has never liked company.

It was still early enough for me to get my shit together and get to work on time but then I thought about all the stress that waited for me there and the tiny bit of resolve I had left, evaporated. So I continued to sit and stare at my feet.

Okay, I told myself, pull yourself together, march into your closet and find something to wear and stop being such a ninny! I marched into my closet, called Glynda to tell her I had just woken up so I was going to be late (I don’t think she would have approved of the real reason), picked out a pair of pants, ironed them, grabbed a top and a cardigan, put them on and instead of looking in the mirror again, I went back to sit on my bed. I looked around at the chaos I had created, boots here, tanks there, sweaters on my jewelry armoire, boxes of shoes blocking the entrance to my closet… ::sigh::

I hate this feeling of vulnerability. No matter how intelligent you are, how tough you are, certain triggers can leave you feeling like a puddle of melted playdoh sliding into a sewer. Those triggers can send all the progress you have made to get yourself out of the deep end back in there with the force and acceleration of a bowling ball being thrown out of a tall building. Oh, you were happy a few days ago? Well that feeling is long gone. Now all you have is a messy room and the urge to crawl under the blankets and not come out until your world stops shaking.

But! I had stuff to do. I had a stack of charts waiting for me on my desk. I had a few people that needed me to translate for them, including the uncle of an 8 month old baby whose mom severely abused him resulting in fractures of his little legs and arms. Those are serious problems. Mine are just in my head. I jumped off my bed, grabbed my red boots, because red boots are the things to wear when your life needs a little boost, sprayed myself with a beautifully scented perfume I found at a great price at Marshall’s and focused my energy on coffee and breakfast. Hey, I might as well take an hour vacation instead of being docked 30 minutes of pay for being late. I made myself coffee and toasted a bagel.

Once I gathered my things, I went out to the car and sat in it while I had my coffee and bagel. I thought about all the things I’d like to change in my life. Some are out of my control, some are too hard to want to deal with when your strength has ebbed to record lows, some are relatively easy to change and I hope to get to them someday… I finished my breakfast and headed to work.

I walked into the office and was greeted with “nice boots” and “I love that top!” and I smiled and joked about the fact that I have great tastes in clothes. Funny. What would they say if I told them how much I agonized this morning and how a simple outfit sent me over the edge? I moved the 4 additional charts somebody put on my chair because “there are urgent issues I need to address” and asked my coworkers how their weekends had gone.

For now, this mask I wear will have to do.

We interrupt this silence to bring you an URGENT RANT!

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 17:08:00 +0000

So things here at the Beehive haven’t gone as smoothly as I was promised in the fairy tales. It seems every time Andy and I are about to bathe in the light at the end of the tunnel, a giant boulder blocks our exit and we are left in the rat infested tunnel with only our iPhone lights to illuminate the graffiti on the walls. But whatever. He and I have gotten through a million other tough times so I’m sure we’ll manage again. Eventually.

Anyway, since things have been crap, we do little “cheer me ups” to make things a little more bearable. Now, if you’re thinking we light up a joint and just chill, you’d be wrong because it is illegal. We are also not boozers so taking shots of tequila is out of the question. No, what we do is we bake cookies or pick up a pizza or go to my very favorite hot dog/hamburger joint, Portillo’s. Don’t worry, we are aware that one day we may be a couple of walking talking heart attacks waiting to happen but that’s a worry for another day.

On this “cheer me up” day, we decided to pick up Portillo’s. Since I work about 3 minutes from one, it was decided that I would go right after work so that when my Andy came home, I would be waiting for him with a hot meal and his slippers. Because I’m an awesome wife.

I went into Portillo’s and was pleasantly surprised to see there wasn’t anybody in front of me in line. Yay! I placed my order, 2 bacon cheeseburgers with everything (including grilled onions and pickles), 2 hot dogs with everything, an order of chicken strips, 4 small fries and a side of cheese. It wasn’t just Andy and I eating, m’mkay? I got my number and went to stand in the pick up section. So far so good.

The restaurant started getting a little busy but no worries cuz I beat those suckers in placing my order. 15 minutes later, they called my number, I picked up my bag and went happily on my way. When I got home I took Mocha and Tazz outside for their potty breaks and then came back inside to unpack the muy deliciosa meal.

I took out the chicken fingers, I took out the burger and wait. One burger? I ordered two, didn’t I? I looked at my receipt and I was definitely charged for two. Okay so I check another bag and I see the 2 hot dogs. Hmmmm maybe it’s in with the fries? Nope. I am missing one of the burgers. The place wasn’t as busy as it can get and they had about 10 people working the cook aisle and yet they forgot to give me a burger? Really?

I’m sure most of you have had this happen to you. You go to a fast food place to pick something up only to find when you get home they forgot something. I’m sure it’s not something you’ve lost your shit over but things in my life are a little bit out of my control right now so, for me, this was some sort of camel-back-breaking thing.

I called Portillo’s and had to explain what happened to the person who answered the phone and then again to a manager. Having worked in fast food for 9 years, I know the drill. “Would you like to come pick it up?” My answer was no. How does that help my situation? I picked up the food after work because the 2 streets I would have to take to get to Portillo’s from my house are a fucking nightmare, trafficwise, at that time. His next solution was to give me credit for next time. Yeah? Awfully kind of you! But! How does that help my situation? There is still going to be one person without food, right now! So option 3 was for him to send me a gift card with the amount of my burger by mail that would get to me in 7-10 business days. Well, that sounds like a fucking plan. Are you hungry right now, babe? Do you think maybe you can hold it for 7-10 business days? That would make sense if I were going to be planning a meal in the future and oh wait! For all of these “options” I still have to get my ass in my car and drive to a place I had already gone to, to pick up something that should have already been fucking digested!

The way I see it, when fast food places fuck up your order, they should say to you “Dear beloved customer, we will be sending MarioAndretti (that is the only fast car driver I know) to bring your food to you because we know we fucked up and that is really the only solution that would make things right” Giving me a credit or a voucher does nothing for me. I have a good mind to call the cops and let them know they stole my 5 bucks because they certainly would do the same to me if I walked out without paying for a burger!

Right about now, most of you are probably thinking “Oh lord she lost it!” here is some news for you, I “lost it” a long loooong time ago. This right here is just what goes on in my head everyday of my life only this time I was pissed off enough to write it down.

There are a bunch of bad things hovering over our heads right now so in the grand scheme of things, being minus one burger won’t bring down my world but I thought it would be a good idea to focus on something that I could rant about without getting into any trouble and also sending a big SCREW YOU to Portillo’s.

On the silver lining part of this whole situation, I will probably be boycotting them for the next couple of years (not that they’d care because I’m only one person and they are big popular company) so I’m sure my arteries will be happy.

P.S.

Andy was offered his pick of food because we love him and would hate for him to go hungry. He chose a hot dog and fries and while he wasn't entirely happy, he did get a "big hug" voucher he can use at a later time. Because I’m an awesome wife.

This is the person that handles the payroll!

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 16:59:00 +0000

Okay. I am not making this up. OZ bought a new “accounting” computer for Milton because the one she was using is from the stone age and it finally just about blew up. They bought new software for it and she had been trying to register the software for over an hour.

Me: Uh, that computer isn’t hooked up to the internet so you won’t be able to register the software online.

Milton: I know the old one was able to be registered so I should be able to register this one!

Me: [was about to say maybe they registered it on installation but shrugs and bows out of the issue because I really don’t give a shit]

Then I hear her on the phone with tech support:

Milton: I am trying to register your software on your website but I keep getting error messages. [listens to tech support] Hold on, I’ll try that but the computer is on the other side of the room. I’ll be right back.

Because the computer is on the other side that’s how we role at the Asylum make everything difficult for everybody.

Me: Why don’t you pick up Cowardly Lion’s phone? It’s closer and you don’t have to be jumping back and forth.

Milton: Em well um I- no, this is fine.

::sigh::

She goes back to tech support and says:

Milton: Tried it but it still gives me the same error message. [listens] The message says [looks at a piece of paper where she wrote down the error message] “cannot locate internet connection. check your internet connection”. [listens] Okay, I’ll try that.

Gets up again and turns the computer this way and that. Pushes cables deep and tries again.

Milton: No, it still gives me the same message.

This goes on for a very very long time but finally:

Milton: Does it make a difference if this computer is not connected to the internet? … Hello? Hello? [I’m assuming the tech support person had to take a moment to compose themselves.] Why does it have to be connected to the internet? I’m not going to be doing anything online?
At that point I got up and took a walk around the building.

Bizarro Friday

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 16:30:00 +0000

Glynda (to me): What did you do for Mexican New Year?

Me: … ::blink blink:: I’m sorry, what did I what for what?

Glynda: Mexican New Year. I read in the paper that it was Mexican New Year over the weekend.

Me: Uh, as far as I know Mexican New Year is still on January first but maybe I didn’t get the memo? [smiles to tell her I’m just kidding] I think you meant Mexican Independence Day but that’s today.

Glynda: [giving me a look that says I must be a part-time Mexican and not “all there”] I’m pretty sure they said it was MEXICAN NEW YEAR.

Me: Well, I guess I’ll have to check with my fellow Mexicans and update my Aztec calendar. [hangs head in shame] I wonder when the Mexican Independence Day will be celebrated now that we have moved our New Year [puts hand on chin to imply deep thought] will my birthday be in the same month! I need to call a meeting!

Glynda: So I guess you’re mocking me?

Me: Maybe just a little.

OZ is off today which is awesome for many reasons but mostly because he’s taking his douchiness on the road but also because this means no patients. Or so we thought until a stray one walked in who thought his appointment was today. He also happened to be a Spanish speaker which does not say much for “my people” because I already dropped the ball on the whole Mexican New Year thing so I went up to the front desk to tell him he was here on the wrong day and then he creeped me out because he started hitting on me!

I came back to my desk and told Milton how this old dude had hit on me all creepy-like.

Me: You know, I try to help people out and this is how they repay me!

Milton: Well I think it’s flattering.

Me: Noooooo the dude is like forty!

Milton: Well that’s not too old—

Me: Uh-huh! I just looked up his age and he’s 42! OLD! Ick!

Milton: [stands by my desk and gently asks] How old are you going to be this year?

Me: Thirty- [complete and utter horror at the HOLY SHIT realization] -NINE! Aw man! I’m old too!

Where did the years go? Where?

I'M NOT FRUNKING DUCK!

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 19:35:00 +0000

So I went to a new doctor a couple of weeks ago, I know what you’re thinking, “A new doctor, Bee? What happened to the grandmotherly Polish woman you’ve been going to for years?” She abandoned me that’s what! She picked up and moved her practice to Michigan with not so much as an “I enjoyed removing your skin tags!” card. Thanks for bringing it up and reopening the wound! Pour some lemon on it why don’t ya’!

This left me with no other choice than to look for a new female doctor cuz I was not going to let the MALE doctor that took over the grandmotherly Polish woman’s practice see my wobbly bits (especially because I was tricked into going there to get a refill on my blood pressure pills and he was all “next time you come in, I’m gonna feel your breasts” oh hell no!)… where was I? I forgot why I even brought this up… Oh right! I remember.

I was not prepared for the shit-ton of questions I was asked by 2 different people! I felt like I was caught smuggling kittens in my nostrils and they were trying to get to the bottom of why.

“Do you drink alcoholic beverages on a regular basis?”

“No ma’am.”

They give me a look that says they’re on to my shenanigans “By regular we mean 2-3 times a week”

“No.”

Now I get a look that says they don’t believe me because how else would I get through life? “Once a week? Twice a month?”

“More like one Mojito once every 6 months… My father is an alcoholic so I more or less have an aversion to liquor”

Busily type-type-type-typing while giving me sideways glances. “O-KAAAAY. I’ll just enter “socially”—“

“No. I do not drink socially. I do not consume alcoholic beverages at social events or with friends or family or picnics with my dogs. I do not drink regularly. Having 2 Mojitos a year is not in anyway considered a “social drinker”.”

I had to go through this twice. Once with the physician’s assistant and then again with the doctor. Why is it so hard to believe that there are some people who are just not interested in alcoholic beverages? As of this very moment in time, I have had one half of a beer and a pina colada I shared with Andy and it’s what? September? I honestly would rather have water or green tea or anything else that doesn’t taste like rubbing alcohol.

I think next time I’ll just say “Do I drink? I’m drunk right now, bitches!” and they’ll probably accept that as truth faster than you can say “belly shots”.

I don’t think my answer mattered one bit because they were just going to type whatever the fuck they thought was “the norm”. Goes to show how much they really know because they measured my height and told me I’m only 5 feet one and a half inches when the whole world can clearly see that I am FIVE FEET TWO INCHES TALL!

::sigh::

They also took my blood and made me give them a urine sample. I’m assuming they’re going to test me for rabies…

Bagel Day vs Day Off

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 20:10:00 +0000

Arkham Asylum has a long standing tradition where its employees bring their own cake on their birthdays (sucky tradition, yes?). It’s all fine and good until we hit July and August. July because there are 5 people with July birthdays which means a ton of cake in the kitchen which may sound like a good time but the reality is people nearly coming to blows because they cannot find space for their lunches in the mini fridge.

August is hard because it is Milton’s birthday month.

Every year we have to go through a series of polls and questionnaires provided by Milton and after we’ve answered everything to her satisfaction, she inputs the info in her Miltonwasteoftime Machine and buys the cake according to that information.

This year, however, we were all taken by surprise when she announced at morning meeting that instead of cake she was bringing bagels. There was a moment of stunned silence because nobody knows how to react to a change in routine (especially when it’s coming from Milton who is the Queen of all OCD routines) but I managed to squeak out an “awesome!” so that we could move on and not stand around staring at the wormhole that just appeared before us.

As the day grew closer to her Bagel Celebration, she kept asking me people if they would be at work on Thursday day of the lord the 18th because she wanted everybody to partake in cheesy bagels. Everybody reassured her that they would not be taking a vacation day so life ran smoothly, or as smooth as life can run when you work in a nuthouse, until this morning.

Cowardly Lion (to me): Can you give me direction on this issue? I want to get it done so I don’t have to worry about it because I’m taking tomorrow off.

Me: — [gets interrupted by a maniac]

Milton [jumps put of her chair]: BUT I TOLD EVERYBODY TOMORROW IS BAGEL DAY!

CL [taken aback and grabbing on to the back of my chair]: Oh. Yeah, I forgot.

Milton [relieved]: Okay, so you’ll be here, right?

CL [almost crawling on my lap]: No. I need to do something—

Milton: BUT IT’S BAGEL DAY! I GAVE EVERYBODY ENOUGH WARNING!

CL: I—

Milton [face red, cheeks puffing]: I WAS PLANNING ON BUYING A BAKER’S DOZEN! HOW IS THAT GOING TO WORK NOW? CAN YOU RESCHEDULE YOUR DAY OFF??

CL: No! I can eat my bagel on Friday! It’s just a bagel!

Oh lord. Knowing Milton as well as I do I knew that was the wrong thing to say because bagels are sacred to dear old Milton.

Milton: BUT IT’S BAGEL DAY! WE DON’T GET THOSE OFTEN ANYMORE! [and then she went into a weird quiet trance] I guess I can wrap it up for her in plastic wrap. Maybe I’ll put it in a bag too so it doesn’t get hard. [walks back to her desk muttering under her breath] gobbledegook bagel day…

In the meantime, CL is scratching at my sweater and I’m trying to pretend I’m in Hawaii.

I just found out a moment before I hit publish that CL will only be taking a half a day vacation so she'll be here in the morning for bagels. Ladies and gents, I wish I was making this up.

Can you imagine Milton delivering your pizza and scolding you because your order isn't logical?

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 18:08:00 +0000

I was ordering OZ’s lunch (yep that is a shitload of responsibility right there!) and Milton, as the bookkeeper, asked me if I thought $1.50 was enough for a tip.

Me: I think that’s too low—

Milton: But they also charge a $2.50 delivery fee so he’d be getting a total of $4!

Me: You asked for my opinion and I gave it to you. [which I should have learned by now that it’s best to staple my tongue to my lower lip so that I don’t get myself into these volatile situations] ::shrug:: Give him what you think is fair.

Milton: If I do that, he’d only be getting the delivery fee. That delivery driver has a good gig if you think about it!

Me: [pounds head on keyboard, realizes it’s not painful enough, dunks fingers in coffee then flicks wet fingers at active outlets] I don’t think the delivery driver would agree since gas prices are so high…

Milton: [dismissing my comment] I’ve been thinking that, when I retire, I’ll probably look at getting a cushy job like that.

Me: [shaking head to make sure I heard right] You want to be a food delivery person??

Milton: Maybe. How hard can it be?

Me: What will you do the first time somebody tells you they’re not going to tip you because your delivery fee should be enough?

Milton: I’d explain that the tip is for the wear and tear to my car.

Me: ::blink blink:: Can’t you use that same logic when it comes to our delivery guy?

Milton: Why should I? Let him come and argue his point!

I’m planning on moving as far away from her as soon as I can. I’d say maybe even a different galaxy but it is apparent she doesn’t reside in the same one the rest of us “normals” do.

Over the river and through the woods...

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 19:32:00 +0000

We are heading to my inlaws “sprawling estate” in far-away-land for the weekend and it cracks me up at how excited Andy and I get over simple things:

Andy: Make sure you bring a book because I’m gonna be taking lots of naps so I’m not going to be able to entertain you.

Me: O-ka-y? I’m not 5 and can pretty much entertain myself. Besides I have 4 months worth of magazines to read.

Andy: And then I’m going to play pool with my dad and ride their tractor. Probably play horseshoes and uh maybe target shooting. [at this point I’m picturing him as a little kid anxious to start a road trip and jumping up and down excitedly]

Me: ‘kay.

Andy: Hopefully they’ll have saved some grass for me to mow. I’ll probably play horseshoes too.

Me: You already said that.

Andy: Did I? It bears repeating. You’re bringing a book, right?

Me: Yeeeeees!

Andy: Maybe bring a movie too. I wonder if I should cook them dinner…

Me: Sounds good to –

Andy: Hi mom! Do you guys want me to cook dinner for you? No? Okay, Bee can make breakfast one morning.

Me: Eh??

Andy: Mom says she’s gonna cook but you can make breakfast.

To recap, Andy will be taking naps, riding on a tractor, mowing grass, playing horseshoes (twice apparently), playing pool and target shooting. I will be reading and cooking breakfast. Not too shabby for the Cor-Ruts!

More Asylum woes… to the nose…

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 16:56:00 +0000

Me to myself “Okay, Bee, today is Tuesday. You got through Monday without any threats to first degree homicide anybody so you can get through Tuesday! You can do it! You can do it! YOU CAN DO IT!!”

Just then Glynda walks in: I need to inform everybody that Scarecrow has herpes of the mouth. She is not at the moment contagious but she will be once it starts weeping so be careful with the things you touch.”

Me: Uhhhhhhh why is she here and not under bio-hazard arrest?

Glynda: ::shrugs::

Because that is what we always expect from management, a fucking shrug!

Me: Can you make sure she doesn’t go around touching everything in sight? Maybe sticks to the phone in her X-Ray room?

Glynda [another fucking shrug]: Just don’t touch your mouth/eyes/nose.

Do you guys know how hard it is to keep from tapping your lips when you’re thinking? I mean, I’m not saying I rely solely on this method to coax answers outta my brain but it is a habit, I have to tap-tap-tap my fingers over my lips as if I was playing a flute.

Me: I don’t mean to sound insensitive but it’s just that I went all these years trying not to catch any type of crazy diseases so I’m a little worried!

Glynda: You’ll be fine as long as you disinfect your hands every time you come back to your desk. Try really hard not to touch your face.

Do you guys know how badly a nose starts itching once it knows (pun pun pun!) you can’t touch it?

Scarecrow, I don’t know what you did to get herpes of the mouth but I hope it was worth it!

Milton loses her marbles!

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 14:32:00 +0000

Oh lord! Milton lost her pencil again! I have been at work for an hour and have been asked 5 times if I've seen it.

Me: Uh, I haven't moved from this spot in an hour. Unless it has tiny little legs and a map, I don't see how it could have made its way to my desk.

Milton: I know I keep asking you but I'm hoping you'll surprise me.

So I get up, grab a BRAND NEW PENCIL FROM THE SPECIAL SUPPLY CABINET, sharpen it and say:

Me: Here's a NEW AND IMPROVED PENCIL. SURPRISE!!

Milton: Very funny but I need MY pencil.

And people wonder why I nicknamed her Milton from Office Space...

Sometimes, life gives you a thumbs up!

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 18:12:00 +0000

So, you know how I’m always complaining about my bad luck and yucky job and other family related stress factors? Well not today! Today I am feeling lucky!

About a month ago, I signed up to see if I could be one of the lucky few who would get a sneak peak at the new Casino opening up near my house. I had already given up hope because it was only 6 days away and I hadn’t received any news and then it happened! I got the email saying I was in!

::insert bad dancing here::

Woohoo! Andy and I will get all gussied up so we may enjoy an evening of free food, non-alcoholic beverages, MORE FREE FOOD, maybe some coffee and some “gambling” . I say “gambling” because I’m not a fan of money being set afire which to me is the equivalent of gambling so we will probably just place our own bets like "how much do you want to bet that lady isn't wearing underwear?" and then we'll be escorted out once we ask her.

Ironically, even though everything will be complimentary, we've spent quite a few Thomas Jeffersons preparing for this event. Andy and I got haircuts, I tortured a poor lady by making her give me a mani-pedi, my car needed professional washing since it hadn't been washed thoroughly since before the time my mom left a package of chicken breast in the trunk for 5 days. IN 90 DEGREE WEATHER. Lucky for me, I already had the perfect shoes to wear.

It's gonna be awesome!

This was supposed to be posted on 7/15/11 but I guess my shoes were too hot for blogger!

Tales from the Marriage Crypt

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 16:49:00 +0000

So, on Sunday, Andy and I went on our weekly date to Costco. As we were walking through the parking lot, I couldn't help but notice an attractive couple putting large quantities of water and beer in their car. The chick was wearing tiny shorts and a tiny top and both kept pulling this way and that way as she bent forward leaving nothing to the imagination.

When we walked passed them, we overheard her yelling at him about something he had done and once we got inside Costco this happened:

Andy: Wow! She's really yelling at him! And he will put up with it, you know why?

Me: Because she's hot?

Andy: Yep. Only reason.

Me: Then why do you put up with me yelling at you?

Andy: [silence, silence, silence] Because you're my girl.

Awwww! Look at him sidestepping a landmine! So cute!

Now, this can be taken 1 of 2 ways:

Wincing and saying ouchie because that was a bad blow to the ego or being happy at the progress a marriage has made because 2 years ago the response would have been "I have too because we're married".

I went with the latter. I have no delusions of hotness. After all, here I sit with my chicken sheared bangs and eyebrows that haven't been plucked since before my sister had Isabella 3 years ago (hint hint NANCY!). I mean, sure, women all over want to think their husbands find them hot but I've come to accept that I'm not Andy's type (took a while but I did it! Yay me!) it's a surprise to me we even made it through our "courtship" phase. Which I guess is also something to take comfort in since we've made it this far.

Two years ago he would have just said whatever came into his head instead of thinking about the best answer that wouldn't leave a trail of hurt feelings behind. It's not that I blame him for his lack of sensitivity because that is what he was raised with, I submit this conversation we had over dinner with his parents as evidence:

Andy's Dad: … and so I told Jim, you have to look for a girl that's going to be good for you. It doesn't matter if she's pretty or not. [then says to me] He has dated a lot of lookers but it can't always be about being attractive. No offense, Bee… not to say that you're ugly.

I almost choked on my corn! I guess I should be thankful for having people around me that keep me grounded! "with friends like those, who needs enemies"? ::wonk wonk!:: [squeezes clown nose for joke emphasis]

Anyway, I got a warm fuzzy feeling from his answer. I think this goes to show that I have made some progress too. Instead of internalizing comments like that and lashing out in resentment, I can now shrug it off and write a passive aggressive post about it.

On a sad note:

One of the Asylum's long time workers is leaving. He is who I call the Tin-Man and I've talked about him very little on this blog because he is the only *normal* person here. Life here is going to be even less bearable because he was the one that managed to keep OZ in somewhat of a good mood, I think because OZ lived vicariously through him since he is charismatic and also hot. He was my lunch buddy that would listen to me rant and rave about all the bats and their latest idiocies. I predict many a dark day at Arkham Asylum.

Did I mention he's hot?

This took place 5 minutes ago but I think it stopped time.

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 16:08:00 +0000

Me to Milton: Ick! My purse smells like rotten mango!

Milton: What? It smells like what?

Me: Rotten mango.

Milton (horrified): Why would it smell like that?

Me: Because I put it in there a couple days ago and forgot about it.

Milton (face ashen white and looking puke-y): Why would you do that? Why? Unless I'm confused about what 'mangoo' means?

Me: … … … I said MANGO not MANGOO … MANGO!

Milton (looking relieved): Oh! Okay! That makes sense! Rotten MANGO! I was wondering if 'mangoo' was slang for—

Me: No! Let's just... let's just … I don't know what to say right now so I'm just going to pretend this conversation never took place.

::lays on floor in fetal position chanting hymns::

::shiver::

So yeah. The storm that went through here last night has left the Beehive without working light switches.

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 18:59:00 +0000

Unfortunately for me, the lack of electricity means I have to go with my "Plan B" hairstyle which involves a headband and a hair claw because I do not have the solar powered hair dryer I asked for as a Christmas present. Damn you Santa and your naughty list!

I have come to the sad conclusion that this face [pointing at my face] needs all the hair on it it can take without being confused with Yosemite Sam. Mine is the face that needs to be hidden behind a curtain for what we shall call "the mysterious look". Right now I feel naked and people are actually able to see my eye-rolls and my mimicking of their asinine comments with my sarcastic lip movement. ::sigh::

I went on the Com Ed website and they are telling me that it could be days before they restore power to all customers and so I immediately thought about the meat we bought on sale so we could, you know, save money. Now I'm gonna have to hold a food drive where I cook all the food on the grill and then charge the neighbors money to eat it. I suppose I could give it away but then they might follow me around the neighborhood like stray animals and maybe even want me to pet them.

Glynda said to me this morning "well, at least you're lucky enough to be able to come to work where we have air conditioning!" Yeah. I feel really effing lucky right now! How about you take your positive attitude and go lecture some sharks while wearing a meat suit I'll make for you from my thawed out freezer? Fucking hippies!

I am aware things could have been worse and it's not like I gave her my power outage news with a tear and I frown-y face. I said it with a carefree shrug of the shoulders that implied I was a cool cat on top of hill full of catnip.

As I was typing this, I found out OZ also was without power but it has now been restored. Hmmm! Maybe I need to move to a rich gated community because those wheels get greased way faster than down here at plebeian-ville.

Kidding. I know how hard the restorers of light work. They were probably out all night in dangerous conditions. I heart you Com Ed guys! I'm sure we were just overlooked! If you need my address, facebook me! ;o)

Also, what I most regret, is not eating the Edy's Drumstick Ice Cream we bought over the weekend. I remembered last night, as I was getting eaten alive by a family of mosquitoes that decided to picnic on my head, neck and arms (I'm sure Glynda the sugarwitch would say that it's because I'm so sweet. Up yours Glynda!), and then I couldn't sleep because I was honestly debating whether I should get up, grab a spoon and eat it while I sat in my dark living room but I walked away from the light and counted bug bites instead.

Glynda just came in and asked me if my shower was working. I said "Yeeees. Why? Do I smell?" and she said no but since my power was out… and I had to think for a minute, because I'm becoming one of them, and then I said, as far as I know, my plumbing isn't powered by electricity. She tossed her pageboy hair and went back on her airship.

Send help.

I wasn’t put on this Earth to let people walk all over me with their bare feet OR shit covered shoes.

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 19:48:00 +0000

I'm just sayin'.

It's been one of those days and I'm so very tired of having one of those days.

To lighten the mood, here is a Milton story:

Milton: I found a paperclip by your desk. [gives me paperclip]

Me: Oh, um okay. Thanks.

Milton: You want to make sure you look around your desk before you leave because the cleaning crew will just throw them away.

Me: I'll try to remember.

Milton: You know, I'll just make a note to check your area before I leave. Just to be sure.

Me: ::sigh:: will you get mad if I say I don't care?

Milton: But the cleaning crew will throw them away!

Me: If I promise never to let a paperclip slip from my fingers, will you leave me alone?

Milton [rolls her eyes]: I'll just make sure to check your area before I leave.

My work friends are cooler than your work friends!

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 19:52:00 +0000

Scarecrow to Me: When I run out of Vicodin, I pour water in the bottle the pills came in and drink it. You'd be surprised how much pill dust is still in there!

Me: ::blink blink:: I think you have a problem.

Scarecrow: I don't! It's not like I'm pouring Gin in there!— BWAHAHAHA! I think I just invented a new shot!

Nope. She definitely doesn't have a problem.

J-Lo's "music" is equal to one million tiny unicorns inside your head stabbing your brain with their tiny headhorns.

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 01:50:00 +0000

I know what your thinking "But I love unicorns!" and I love them too and I like to dance in the rain with them every time I'm buzzed on Nyquil but the truth of the matter is that nobody would enjoy them making holes in your brain. Nobody.

ANYWAY, back to J-Lo.

I think that actors that play musicians/singers in movies should sign a contract that says something like:

"Just because I am playing the role of SELENA or RAY CHARLES*, this does not mean that I myself possess the talents that they did so I will never ever subject the world to my autotuningoversynthesizedstudiomonotone singing under penalty of repeated slapping to the face. Amen"

Unfortunately for the world, we have already been subjected to many vocal disasters from actors who think they can cross over to the harmonious side because of this pesky thing we call freedom to do as you please as long as you are not breaking the law but by them putting out these compilations of horror, they are murdering my eardrums and maybe even the music industry because every Tom, Dick and Sylvester Stallone will think they can sing and when will enough be enough? Sylvester Stallone isn't even a good actor!

As a matter of fact, I think we as human beings have the responsibility to form some sort of coalition or maybe sign a petition that will keep radio stations, TV stations, internet sites and whatever other media that will be invented in the future, from playing their music.

I mean, there is nothing worse than listening to your radio as you are winding down for the night, after fighting rabid mosquitoes and giant soul sucking spiders in your garden, and then having to listen to J-Lo's "song" where she pronounces Africa like this ahfrEEEEKHAH just so that it will sorta rhyme with whatever God awful "lyric" she "sang" before that.

Why not just change the station, you ask. Well, what if it has taken you 15 minutes of moving this way and that way until you found the sweet spot on the bed that would let you softly drift off into sleep where you will dream of Henry Cavill being your Superman and so you really don't want to risk moving a single inch and the radio is all the way on the other side of the bed where you have a manlike obstacle quietly snoring and do you really want to climb over him and risk him thinking it's ::wink wink:: time?

But on the other hand, your ears are bleeding from J-Lo's monotonous bleating where she declares that "Tonight we gon' be it on the floor Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala" (and she sings it just like it is written, with no harmony what's so ever)(What are my qualifications for judging her "talent"? Years and years of listening to music that's what!).

Decisions decisions.

I would rather avoid the whole ordeal and just have her music banned for the sake of mankind soooo…

Since I believe myself to be a fighter of all causes that don't really need to be fought, I am starting an online petition here (of course, since I myself do not possess any internet talents, the actual petition is really just a Facebook page where you can leave comments):

People Against Actors As Singers or PAAAS

People can go there and vent about other "singers" that need to be banned from the airwaves so that our auditory senses don't disappear and leave us standing around like goldfish staring vacantly at murky glass while our mouths go like this (picture me opening my mouth and closing it goldfish style) and waiting for the time where we will be mercifully flushed down the toilet.

P.S.
I know some of you are going to tell me that there have been some actors that were able to make the transition successfully and some others will point out that there are singers who become actors so why am I picking on just one group. Well, first of all, cause I want too. And second of all, movies are not forced upon me randomly while typing away at my computer or showering or having ::wink wink:: time. Since I listen to the radio all day at work, while I'm getting ready for work and while I'm trying to fall asleep, I feel I have the right to bitch and moan about it as I please. So there!

*Really Jamie Foxx? You can't separate bad acting from reality so you decide to move to bad singing?

I know where I am, why should I care where you are?

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 19:28:00 +0000

I hate it when people call me and ask for directions to get to our office. In this day and age of GPS and the internet, I feel like it's not my responsibility to draw somebody an imaginary map. Especially since they always ask shit like "are you on the east or west side of the street?" At that moment in time I think "Listen, dipshit, if you know where east and west are located, that's more than I know so how about you just look for the sign that says 'Arkham Asylum' once you are on the freakin street??"

::sigh:: I should just stop answering my phone.

Raaaaant over!

There is no party like a Beehive party cuz the Beehive partys all night! 10th Anniversary Style!

noreply@blogger.com (Bee) — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 02:50:00 +0000

So, yeah. I am going to make a badge that says “I survived my 10^th year anniversary!” because it was that off the hook, yo! What is the secret to my success? I’ve found that if you make a list of the things you want to accomplish on special occasions, you get through them with only minimal injuries.

Early in the morning:

1- Go to Walmart and pick up blood pressure meds along with toothpaste.

2- Go to Petco to buy special dog food for Mocha (and Tazz).

Sure, it may not sound very exciting to you but it was to us. Especially when the Petco guy tried to sell us a $57 bag of dog food. Was it that expensive because it had cats as one of the ingredients? Nope. The guy said this dog food didn’t have any chicken beaks or cow tails in it and I was like, well, if I was feeding babies instead of dogs, I guess that would matter to me but if Andy eats that stuff in hot dogs, my dogs are not going to get any special treatment.

Late Afternoon:

4- Get ready for night out

When we got home after running our errands, I started my beautifying treatment of showering and shellacking make up and hair spray so that I would look somewhat respectable. As I was attempting to put on my first set of eyelashes, Andy knocked on the bathroom door and asked “how’s it going in there?” and so I jumped because I was not expecting to be rushed on the one day I was actually trying to look presentable so the eyelash glued itself to an awkward part of my lid.

Well damn! I didn’t have time for corrections since the husband was obviously impatient so I brushed my bangs over my eye hoping a strong gust of wind wouldn’t reveal my freak-show-ness and finished up my primping.

Early/Late Evening:

5- Go to Wildfire

We had a great time at Wildfire. I was tempted to have a few cocktails but, unfortunately for Andy, I become a douchebag when I’ve been drinking (it seems I push the limits of a joke because I think I’m being playful at which point Andy becomes irritated and I ruin evenings) so I decided to only have ONE very delicious mojito.

6- Go to IKEA to pick up bookcase and maybe picture frame

After a scrumptious meal at Wildfire, we went to IKEA to pick up a bookcase for my sister but we hadn’t realized how uncomfortable we would be walking through that ginourmous store, me with my high heeled boots and Andy with his overindulged belly, so we made a quick exit once we found what we needed.

7- Drop off bookcase

After IKEA we dropped off the bookcase at my sister’s house and stayed for a little bit to play “hoops on your arms” with my 2 year old niece. So cute!

8- Go home

Then we went home where Andy went on his computer and I watched SAW with brother-in-law Jim.

9- Go to sleep

10:30 whoowee! I was pooped due to all the excitement of the day! I left Andy to his ORC killing and went to bed where I dreamt of Mojitos on high shelves.

Do you think the celebrating of our 10^th anniversary ended there? Well you’re wrong! The next day we went to the Botanic Gardens for a nice long walk. After that we did our grocery shopping so Andy could cook a nice romantic dinner for me since Sundays are brother-in-law Jim’s nights to go out. Much to our surprise, he decided to stay in that night so Andy’s romantic dinner for TWO became a dinner for TWO PLUS ONE. After dinner Andy went on his computer and brother-in-law Jim and I watched the Exorcism of Emily Rose and then a documentary called ‘Chicago by Boat’ on PBS.

The weekend’s excitement finally got to me so I went to bed and left Andy killing more ORCs. I couldn’t wait to go back to work so that I could have peace and quiet with a side order of relaxation. My old body cannot take all this exhilaration. I really hope our 20^th anniversary is a little more tame because I will be a whole decade older and I’d really hate to break a hip.