Bee's Musings

Showering with Bee. But we're all fully clothed, m'mkay?

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 00:47:00 +0000

I'm not an environmental zealot by any stretch of the imagination but when I hear about something I may easily change about my habits that will help save a polar bear so he may live to eat more evil seals , I make an attempt to adjust my lifestyle.

The other day, while in the shower and listening to the radio, I heard the announcer say that if we all stopped using bottled body wash and used bars of soap instead, it would avoid a gabillion bottles going to landfills. I thought back to my life pre-bottled body wash and had no ill memories so I decided to give it a try.

Tuesday morning was my first day testing this *bar of soap experiment* since my body wash had officially run out. I chose Irish Spring as my soap because I imagined myself frolicking in a secluded spring with a good looking Irishman with strong hands and-uh [clears throat] yeah. I lathered up my wash cloth and was immediately disappointed when it didn't suds up as much as my body wash.

I'm a firm believer in the 'no suds, no clean' theory I made up for when I do laundry and dishes so I applied this same theory to my shower. I kept reapplying the soap to my wash cloth but I was running out of time so I did the best I could with what I had.

As I was rinsing, I immediately felt something abnormal. My skin started tightening. I looked at my arm to make sure it hadn't turned into plastic but it was as fleshy as ever. When I began drying myself, the tightening got worse! I dared not bend over for fear of my skin cracking wide open! I lotion-ed myself up as fast as I could and I instantly felt like those leather chairs that undergo oil treatments to make them all soft and mushy. Ahhh! I was back to normal! But fro how long?

I really don't know if I want to go through that again. I may just give my soap to Andy and look for a more woman friendly bar for myself. Womens out there, do you have any suggestions other than Dove and Caress? I want a soap that'll last me some time and not dissolve in water after the first use.

Later, as I was shellacking on my make up, I heard the radio dudes say that a Beluga whale had given birth and this caused a warm and fuzzy feeling in my tum tum so I was all "Awwww" but then I immediately followed it up with "Son of a bitch!" because this baby whale is 5'4 and 162 pounds which makes it skinnier and taller than me!

To recap, my skin now resembles a dried out mushroom and whales are taller and skinner than I am!

Crappy Holidays to me!

Just kidding, Santa.

You know how sometimes you want to do something because you think "how bad can it be?" and then your brain tries to talk you out of it by reminding you of that one time you shoplifted and your mom spanked you so hard the brand name of her shoe is still stenciled to your ass? Yeah, it's like that!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 07:03:00 +0000

I am an intelligent person. I swear I am. But sometimes oh my lord can I make stupid decisions!

It all started a week ago when I was going to make cheesy salsa dip. It involves only 2 things. Salsa and cream cheese. In order to mix the two, the cream cheese needs to be softened so I took out a brick of Philly Cream Cheese, accept no substitutions, and let it sit on the counter for a little while. The little while turned out to be a week because we ran out of chips for dipping then we forgot to buy more then I became sidetracked etc.

Well, on Sunday, I decided to make a fruit cocktail that is infamous in our house. One of the ingredients is cream cheese. We bought 2 fresh bricks, I mixed everything together, then tasted it. Bleh! Too sweet! I thought to myself "gee! I wish had one more thing of cream cheese! ... Wait a minute!"

Does anyone else see where this is going?

I opened the package that had sat on my counter for about 2 weeks (yes, it probably was 2 weeks) and did a sniff test. The smell of cream cheese isn't a pleasant one to begin with so that didn't work.

Okay, I'll just TASTE it. I licked it- just kidding! I'm not an animal! I take a little piece and put it in my mouth, not bad! I taste a bigger piece JUST TO BE SURE! Still tastes good. In my head, I'm thinking the warning to keep refrigerated is a gross exaggeration! This thing has been out for at least 3 weeks (yes, may have been about 21 days) and it's fine! It's probably because the kitchen was so cold- without thinking, I take another piece and eat it as I'm rummaging through the fridge for orange juice that's when I notice I do have another container of cream cheese so I decide to use that instead. Better safe than sorry, you know?

I threw out the old warm cream cheese that was still perfectly fine and used the refrigerated one. My desert came out great once I de-sweeten it and we lived happily ever after! Only not!

Currently, I'm sitting at my desk (okay, computer cart!) waiting for Freddy Krueger to rip his way out of my stomach so that I may finally be at peace! The pain is un-freakin-bearable! Seriously. If I'm ever taken hostage and the terrorists want to make me spill the recipe for my pulled pork sandwiches all they have to do is give me expired cream cheese and wait 20 minutes.

This will go on my "do not do ever again!" list. Along with 'rub eyes after cleaning red pepper shaker' 'stick hands in shark tank' 'walk out in 10 degree weather while rocking flip flops' 'tap dance on thin ice' Well, let's face it, the list goes on and on.

Bloggers! Don't forget to join the Secret Santa Can Suck It Year Deux!

Where we give someone we don't know pretend gifts that may make them laugh or cry (for bonus points!). Email me at beesmusings@gmail.com

If you need details go HERE if you want examples from last year go HERE if you think I need therapy go HERE.

Thanks to all those who have signed up so far. It's gonna be awesome!

"Bee n' Andy" - PRIORITIES!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 06:00:00 +0000

-Also, all you bloggers out there, start preparing for Bee's Musing's second annual Secret Santa Can Suck It!* Woohoo! Yeah! More Confetti! With Gold Sparklies!

I know what you're thinking, "Bee, the economy has me rationing my dog's food. Poor Pudgy now goes by the nickname of Slim."

Never fear! This involves absolutely no money at all and the price is as cheap as imagination! Not to imply your imagination is cheap because I know it must cost your employers thousands of dollars while you sit at your desk and imagine yourself rich, sitting next to a model (man or woman, whatever tickles your fancy), drinking rum out of Brad Pitt's bellybutton.

For those of you who weren't around last year, that's when I picked a blogger out of a hat and assigned him/her to another blogger. And then you tell them what you would have gotten them had you the money and/or you know, cared, you post it on your blog and fun ensues. It is Secret Santa so you can't tell the person you got that you got them because then it's not a secret. That's the other part of the fun. Clicking through the list of participants to see who your Secret Santa is.

... I know it sounds complicated but it's really not.

It was a lot of fun last year but sadly some of the people that participated last year are either no longer blogging or I haven't kept in touch sooooooo! If you want to sign up for it, email me at beesmusings@gmail.com with the link to your blog.

If you want to check out how it worked last year, click on the Secret Santa Can Suck It! link at the top of the blogus.-

The horrible case of the hypnotizing Michael Bublé. Plus Secret Santa Can Suck It- Part Deux!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 03:25:00 +0000

So I woke up this morning feeling pretty good about myself until I remembered I had admitted to my sister I liked Michael Bublé. The scary part is that I was sober. Goes to show that even the secrets you think you will take with you to your grave have a way of coming out when you least expect it. Either that or I just have the will power of a hyena.

Anyway, the conversation started off innocently while we were unloading her Christmas tree from her Explorer:

Sister Nancy: Pull it up and I'll shove from my end [in a whisper] I like Michael Bublé.

Me [in a shocked yell]: ME TOO!

-SILENCE-

We obviously both realized that it would have been better to confess to shoplifting cat food than to confess to the Bublé thing but it was too late to take it back so we justified by saying:

Me: But just his songs because he's a total dillweed.

Sister Nancy: Yeah and he's ugly too!

Me: Yeah he is!

-MORE SILENCE-

Sister Nancy: But I still want to see him in concert.

Me: Hey, hey! Let's not go too far, okay?

As for me, I started liking the dude when somebody broke into my house and left their Michael Bublé CD behind. First I liked one song then another and then Christmas came along and he covered some Christmas oldies... next thing I knew my iTunes account was loaded with Bublés

::sigh:: I'm not proud of it but at least I know I'm still a badass because if Michael Bublé and I were to get into a fist fight, I'm confident I can beat him up and make a purse out of his vocal chords.

Oh, don't tell Nancy I told you.

Announcements!!

Bee n' Andy Comic Strip is back this coming Sunday! I know, YAY! Confetti!

Also, all you bloggers out there, start preparing for Bee's Musing's second annual Secret Santa Can Suck It!* Woohoo! Yeah! More Confetti! With Gold Sparklies!

I know what you're thinking, "Bee, the economy has me rationing my dog's food. Poor Pudgy now goes by the nickname of Slim."

... I know it sounds complicated but it's really not.

It was a lot of fun last year but sadly some of the people that participated last year are either no longer blogging or I haven't kept in touch sooooooo! If you want to sign up for it, email me at beesmusings@gmail.com with the link to your blog.

If you want to check out how it worked last year, click on the Secret Santa Can Suck It! link at the top of the blogus.

No more nose bleeds at work. Well, because of dryness but I can't make any promises I won't break some noses.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 04:24:00 +0000

I know you're probably wondering what that picture is of or what it means. Well, that right there is my ghetto humidifier. The ladies' skin is now so thin that they keep the thermostat at what the sun must feel like during a heat wave so it makes the office extremely dry. Since OZ would rather buy a $1,000 fishing lure instead of a humidifier that would prevent office fires, I remembered my sister mentioning this nifty trick of putting water in a jar with a rolled up newspaper and now I can actually breathe without hacking. I know it's not esthetically pleasing but if it gets the job done that's all that matters.

I miss the old school radiators that had a pan on top that you could fill with water and it made the air all moisty.

Also, the newspaper I used has a picture of T!ger Woods on the front page. I made sure to crinkle him extra tight and dunk him upside down as a show of solidarity to all women with men who have a trapdoor for a zipper.

Thursday is our office Christmas party. The planning has been hell same as every year I've been there. Pray for me people! Pray for me as you read about our Christmas past:

The longest day in history!

♪♫ Silver Balls. Siiiiiiiiiillver Baaaaaaalls! ♫♪

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 03:51:00 +0000

Ahhhhhhhh! There's nothing like walking out the back door and sliding sideways until your butt is stopped by the backyard gate. Lucky for me, I have the reflexes of a ~~geriatric~~ cat ~~high on marijuana~~ so I managed to steady myself so that I wouldn't fall forward and land on my frozen begonias. The gate suffered no severe injuries in case you were wondering.

Andy and I went to get our Christmas tree on Saturday morning, we buy a real tree because I love the smell of decaying pine in my living room, and so did every other couple within a 50 mile radius of our home as evidence by the crowd at Home Depot.

We strolled along the aisles and then Andy asked me which one I wanted. I had just noticed a family standing a few feet ahead of us holding up what I would say is the definition of a Christmas tree. It was perfectly shaped, the size wasn't too big or too small and it had full and sturdy branches. So, me being me, I responded, "I want the one they have." and I swear to Neptune the family turned and gave me a look that said "we will protect this tree to our death!"

I immediately started laughing because I hadn't realized my voice had been that loud. As I was turning to share the joke with Andy, another family hugged their tree tighter to their side, fearing I would take their crappy anorexic tree from their grubby hands. I rolled my eyes and said "I was just kidding people!" Honestly! People are so paranoid!

I did keep an eye on the first family just in case they became distracted enough for me to pull and old switcheroo but I think they were onto my wily ways.

No matter, we found our perfect tree anyway.

You know what I noticed? All the couples buying trees were arguing with each other. It made me sad because buying a tree is such a special tradition in most families it should be a fun time with bonding and hot chocolate not yelling and calling each other morons. Suck it up for your children for shitsake!

I know people get stressed over the holidays because of gift buying but you have to stop and wonder if it's worth yearly freak out. Andy and I used to have shopping nightmares too but now that we can't afford gifts, we just sit back with our spiked eggnog an watch Elf on loop. Who wants to join us?

My super cape runeth over and trips me.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 02:34:00 +0000

As some of you may know, I don't have children... I should clarify and say I don't have children of my own but I am familiar with the species because I see them bouncing off of walls in my house.

Anyway, because I don't have little creatures, of the human variety, I never thought I would have to do things like change diapers (I was wrong!), rush out to the pharmacy to get emergency infants Tylenol (did that last night) and help little ones with homework...

There I was, sittin' on the couch, I had just organized all necessary items in front and beside me to start my post for the evening. Water? Check! Kleenex? Check! TV remote? Check! Laptop on lap? Check and check!! When all of a sudden, my phone rings. My phone that is approximately 100 feet away from where my butt is sitting "curses!" I exclaim but then I shrugged and figured that if it was urgent, they'd call me back. As soon as my phone stops ringing, it starts ringing again. Dang flabbit! Now I have to dig myself out of my little cocoon!

I pick it up and it's my niece Natalia asking for help with her homework. I didn't even hesitate! I picked up my calculator (in case it was math related)(yes she's 6) and ran downstairs to my mom's where she was staying the night.

To my pleasant surprise, she needed help with coming up with sentences for her spelling homework and not the dreaded numbers. Hmmm I hadn't even thought about needing my laptop for spell check purposes.

So I sat down and "helped" this little braniac and didn't even get irritated when she corrected my punctuation (don't forget the period! & Tia Bee, the sentence "I ate too much" needs an exclamation because I want it to say "UGH I ATE TOO MUCH!") and so we finished the third section and then I was informed by little miss sunshine that my services were no longer needed but she would call me when she needed to take her practice test.

I came back upstairs, set my phone next to me and waited patiently.

Half an hour later, I'd paced all over my house and was fighting the urge to call her and see if she still needed me. Would I be rushing her? I finally couldn't stand it any longer so I called my mom. Turns out that, while I was brushing up on my spelling of all words, her daddy had come over to help her. Her daddy who had to get in his car, drive 15 minutes or so in the cold and sleet to come help his little girl do her homework.

Did I hear you guys say "Awwwww!"?? Because seriously that is just Boo! Boo I say!

What am I gonna do with all this extra knowledge??

I went downstairs after I heard Big Tex leave and I confronted her:

Me: Um yeah, I thought you were supposed to call me?

Natalia [trying to look all innocent]: Well, daddy came and he helped me finish and gave me my practice test and everything!

Me: I waited and waited...

Natalia [covering her mouth, probably laughing at me!]: Sorry, Tia Bee. But look! I'm eating the cake you made last night! It's really good!

Me: Don't patronize me!

Natalia [looking at me strangely]: Okaay. I have to go to bed now. Have a good day at work tomorrow.

And then she came and gave me a hug but I know it was just out of pity.

Not cool, people! Not cool at all.

How deep can a cotton swab go?

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 04:18:00 +0000

So, last week I said I was feeling better and my brain capacity was back and blah blah blah... WELL! I've had a relapse. I blame Cook County Board President Todd Stroger. What an asshole! There. I said it.

I finally had enough and went to see my doctor. Obviously I would need the extra help from special little pills because my beloved Nyquil was not doing the trick (but it has been putting my lights out at night). I left work early (the bats practically shoved my ass out the door) so that Andy could drive me into THE CITY.

Let me tell you something, never EVER tell your doctor that you know FOR A FACT that you don't have XYZ disease because she will look at you sideways and pull out the biggest fucking cotton swab ever made and stick it in your nose! Twice!

It went in so deep she was juggling my eyeballs! Then she left the room and came back with a little strip and we watched it for a few minutes until she was satisfied that I was not with swine flu. Yay! The only other time I was that happy was when I peed on a stick and it came out negative.

So she gave me some antibiotics and then asked "Did your husband come with you?" puzzled, I answered that yes he had because I can't drive at night so she then yelled out to Magda something in Polish and next thing you know, Andy and I were ambushed and shot in the arm. It hurt, I won't lie to you but at least now we are sitting in an invisible bubble where the dreaded swine flu will ping ping PING! right off!

Andy was freaking out because he thought he would suffer some unknown side effects, like break-dancing, but he seems to be okay. He was very brave.

P.S.

For those of you doubting the H1N1's powers, we had a beloved member in our family who was infected and it is very scary and real. I personally feel better knowing my Andy and I have been inoculated along with Natalia and my sister. Next up my mom and little Isabella.

Self Portraits by Isabella

Back to work we go!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 04:26:00 +0000

Thursday night.

Andy: Sucks you have to work tomorrow.

Me: Yep.

Andy: Maybe you shouldn't use all your vacation time so early in the year.

Me: I know. I'm going to try and save 2 days next year just for the day before and day after Thanksgiving. That way I can hit all the door buster sales.

Andy: You know what? Maybe it's best you work the day after Thanksgiving. Our bank account appreciates it.

Boys just don't understand!

It used to be that all offices had the day off the day after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, there are a lot of companies that are finding it difficult to pay their employees so they are making them drag their asses in to work. OZ has only given us the day off once in my 4 years working there so I knew I'd have to pick up my weary bones on Friday and head to the Asylum. He normally takes the day off so it's not too painful because I can just put on a pair of sweats and not have to worry about my appearance too much. This year, however, he decided to see patients.

Friday Morning, day after Thanksgiving, I was watching the front desk for Cowardly Lion, the receptionist, while she got coffee. It was so early, my top and bottom lashes were still sealed shut.

Male patient: I would hate to work in a place that's open the day after Thanksgiving!

Me: It's no big deal. We're closing at noon so...

Patient: [leans in towards me and invades my personal space] Yeah but you still had to get up early and drive all the way over here.

Me: And me being sick and all. [coughing violently]

Patient backs away and goes to sit down.

Later in the morning, I was watching the front desk while the receptionist went to the restroom.

Patient checking in: I was thinking of rescheduling my appointment today but I thought, if you guys were going to be open, might as well make you work hard.
[laughs hysterically]

Me: Oh, I see you're getting your cast removed today. I'll make a note on your chart so that they'll use the special saw.

Patient [jaw dropped]: The special saw?

Me: I'm just kidding! That's what I call my "bitter, day after Thanksgiving, sense of humor".

Patient: I'm sorry you have to work the day after Thanksgiving.

Me: Me too.

After the patient left, Glynda came into the business office.

Glynda: Did you tell that patient you were going to tell us to use a special saw.

Me: Yep. In my defense, he pissed me off.

Glynda: Well he told OZ.

Me [pretending not to be interested but in reality crapping my pants (in a ladylike way)]: Yeah?

Glynda: OZ laughed and told him you had a special skill set we use against attorneys and insurance companies but you weren't really a people person because of your evil streak.

Me: Here I thought I hid it well.

Glynda: I don't know what to say.

Me: "Good job?" "You Rock?" "Don't relieve the receptionist anymore?" all of these are acceptable.

She didn't respond.

I will be turning in my vacation sheet taking the day after Thanksgiving off as soon as 2010 hits my calendar.

The post where I declare I'll be back after Thanksgiving Thursday, Black Friday, Polka Dot (Hi jean knee!) Saturday and Blue Sunday.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 06:01:00 +0000

Yep. The title says it all!

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

My sister's FAMOUS Green Bean casserole

P.S.
I'm feeling better, my cough is almost gone. My brain is back to full capacity which means I can add 7+9 without the use of a calculator. Okay, maybe not that high of numbers maybe uh 3+7 (TEN!) which means I will actually be posting and not just giving you a boring account of my cleaning habits fascinating as they may be. Probably.

Stay tuned for a Bee's Musings (I was typing this at work so I abbreviated my blog name to "BM" in case this post fell into the wrong hands and that's when I realized BM is what we most commonly refer to our bowel movements so now that will be my motto "Bee's Musings, it keeps you regular!") style Cribs (Brian, Cribs is an MTV show where famous musicians, actors and athletes feature their homes and say stuff like "this is where the magic happens!" when referring to their bedroom)(Brian, MTV is a channel for "young" people and it used to stand for MUSIC Television where they featured music videos but now, not so young people, like me, watch it and the only time they'll show a music video is after a show like Cribs ends and then it's only a 30 second snippet)(Brian, a music video is-- Just kidding, Brian!) where I take advantage of my house being clean to show you a glimpse into the chaos.

Confused? Have a cocktail (or 10) and everything will make sense.

Another exciting adventure...

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 15:36:00 +0000

Today I will be cleaning and preparing my house for Thanksgiving.

The majority of my chores are as exciting as chores can be, killing dust bunnies, washing windows, coaxing Andy into cleaning his dungeon, etc.

The one thing I absolutely hate doing is scrubbing the bathroom. It's wall to wall tile and the tub is about 12,000 feet deep. I need spelunking gear just to wash jacuzzi jets. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if I actually used the tub to have a nice soak but there's something about sitting in water, making Bee soup, that I find repulsive.

I'm not kidding when I say it takes me an hour to clean it from top to bottom.

Oh joy.

So anyway, think of me every time you go to use your bathroom today.

Photo blogging- sort of...

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 18:32:00 +0000

I'm still sick.

I haven't been able to sleep well due to coughing fits so I've been functioning on automatic pilot.

Because of that, my blogging time has suffered.

[wait for cries of shame to die down]

I've decided to take random activities and post about them as if they were the most interesting content to be found on the Internet. Here is the first one:

Today I am having a Tex-Mex Chicken panini from Lean Cuisine.

I used the knife you see there to cut it in half so that the contents don't end up in my cleavage.

What sucks is that now I have to wash the knife with the cheap sponge that's in the kitchen. I may have to scrub it forever to remove the caked on panininess.

Maybe I'll just throw it away.

And that is my exciting lunch tale!

This is why I don't like to come in early.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 14:31:00 +0000

I've been sitting outside for a half hour, waiting for a key holder to
come in and unlock the door.

I could have slept for another half an hour and gotten more beauty sleep. At my age, I need all the help I can get

Once upon a time there was a family of ugly globs living in my lungs...

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 04:51:00 +0000

It all started on Friday THE THIRTEENTH ooh spoooooky!

I came down with some bug. Last year I was rarely sick but it seems this year will be the year of the Funkyflus for me.

As you may or may not know, you simply cannot be sick while working at the Asylum. People immediately start shielding themselves from you and spraying every area you touch with bleachlike substances. While your hand is still touching the object! I don't know why they treat people like pariahs when they're ill. With the exception of OZ, it's not like we go out licking unsanitary hookers on purpose!

So, I decided to keep my illness (which I believe was passed on to me by that evil OZ!) on the down-low. Unfortunately for me, at the earliest sign of any illness, my voice is the first to go. Added to that, I have this creepy cough that I haven't been able to get rid of for over a month. That cough has irritated my throat and, I'm assuming because I am not a licensed professional, my vocal chords. So instead of my sweet ~~HIGH PITCHED~~ voice ~~OF A NINE YEAR OLD~~, I sound like a 1920s hustler whose had too many cigarettes, booze and good times. The voice is a little less Mae West and a lot more Elmer Fudd-y. I will call this my alter ego and name her Lullibell. What the hell was I talking about? Oh right! I'm sick.

I went to work and as soon as I said something, everyone pounced on me.

"Are you sick?"
"Sounds like something's cookin'!"
"Your hair looks great!"

I told them I felt fine but I felt a little congested. Immediately Glynda told me to go home. Since I no longer have any more time off left in the season, I told her that I would go home if they paid me for the day. She stared at me blankly and said "No, but I don't want you to give it to us" and that's when I said "This is harassment!" no I actually told her that if she did not get it from ~~kissing~~ OZ's ~~ass~~, then she wouldn't get it from me.

I struggled the whole day to appear healthy but once I got home that evening, my bravado evaporated. I sat on the sofa coughing and whimpering, waiting for Tom Cruise to come heal me. Bastard never showed.

I managed to run some errands on Saturday but on Sunday all I did was wallow in self pity, vowing to make the world a bitter place if I came out of this alive.

On Monday, I called in sick because I had trouble sleeping and I knew I would look like a zombie on meth and therefore be judged by the bats because even though looking like zombies on meth is their permanent look, it's unacceptable for me to come down with any illness. I decided to stay home and rest. I slept until 2pm. TWO PM! It was almost dinner time! I felt better, still a little cough-y but the headache and lightheadedness were gone.

Join me in the present day, Tuesday, where I'm driving to work and practicing my 'good mornings' because I don't want my voice to sound all scratchy when I greet Glynda.

First, I sounded like Lurch "Good morning!" nope try again "GOOD MORNING!" that sounded like Jack McFarland on helium. Bring it down a few notches "Good morning!" now I'm Oscar the freaking Grouch! Good, I'm getting closer! I would be able to fool people into thinking I was 100% better and they wouldn't irritate me with their obnoxious insinuations of me infecting the whole office thereby taking years off their lives. I high fived myself in the rear view mirror and that's when I realized . . .

My life? Pathetic.

Interview with Robert Kroese author of Mercury Falls.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 06:00:00 +0000

Mercury Falls

In full disclosure, I received this book for free from Rob Kroese. This in no way shape or form alters what I would say about the book because I have also been giving free paella and I've never felt the need to lie and say I liked it when in fact it made me want to rip my tongue out of my mouth and then jackhammer it into oblivion. It still makes me shiver!

Anyway, here we go:

Rob, I was pleasantly surprised to find I really liked your book. Not to say I doubted your talent but I honestly didn't know what to expect.

I've read around the Internet where people are comparing your book to Kevin Smith's Dogma but, while the subject matter is similar, I have to say that the dialogue reminded me more of the Princes Bride (book and movie). That is not an insult by the way because I love the Princess Bride (book and movie). The back and forth between the character was always entertaining.

Since I am no more a book reviewer than I am an interviewer, I decided to simply say that you wrote a great book and people should go buy it here:

Amazon-Mercury Falls

I do have a few questions I'd like to ask you if you don't mind. Also, please answer my questions with a British accent because, like I've said before, you sound like Hugh Laurie in my head.

Q:
Your book opens with one of the main characters reporting on doomsday cults, basically ridiculing their whole philosophy and shining a light on their hypocrisy, were you giggling as you wrote each sentence?

The funny thing about that opening scene is that it was about the last thing I wrote. I had the whole book done and then I realized I needed a better opening scene to introduce the main character, Christine, and explain why she's so burned out with her job. And while that chapter is one of my favorite parts of the book, I didn't actually giggle through it. I did, however, laugh maniacally through the whole "history of apocalypse-related linoleum shortages" in the beginning. It's probably nowhere near as funny as I thought it was, but that was one part where I really did laugh out loud while I was writing it.

By the way, I take the comparison to The Princess Bride as a big compliment. The movie has some wonderful dialog. I haven't read the book, but it's one of my wife's favorites.

Q:
I'm sure a lot of people have asked you this question, what made you pick The Apocalypse as the topic for your book? And answering 'a bad burrito' is not an option.

The book really started with the idea of Mercury, this angel who is basically a good guy but has no interest in doing what he's been told to. I wanted to get Mercury in a lot of trouble with his superiors, and I figured the best way to do that would be to give him some kind of really important job that he doesn't want to do. And what's more important than the apocalypse?

So Mercury is supposed to be helping out with the apocalypse, but he's just not interested. He's a little like Ron Livingston's character in "Office Space." He doesn't want to do his job, but he doesn't really want to quit either. So he plays ping-pong.

Q:
While I am a reasonably intelligent chick (most days), do you feel your book was written in a manner that can only be enjoyed by people with superior brain power?

Nah, plenty of stupid people have told me they love the book.

Actually, my wife told me I use "too many big words" too, but hey, if I'm going to entertain you, then by golly, I'm gonna learn you something too. Anyway, you can just skip the big words and philosophical tangents. Basically it's an adventure story with a lot of explosions.

Q:
There was a blogger, and I apologize for not remembering who, that reviewed your book and stated he enjoyed it but he also commented that the one drawback was the cover illustration and then he used a fancy word for *font spacing*. I personally do not have a problem with it because I once did an experiment where I bought 5 random books based solely on the cover (a post for another day) and my conclusions were all over the place, is there something you'd like to clear up/explain/shrug and say 'stuff it!' here?

Yeah, that was Dave from Blogography. I was actually thrilled that he liked the book, because he's not the sort of person to give you a good review to soothe your ego.

As for his comments on the cover, well, he's a graphic designer and I'm not. I bow to his expertise. :)

[This is Bee, I just checked out Dave's site, Blogography and he does have mad skills! (do kids still say that?)]

Q:
When your book is made into a movie, can I be cast as Christine? You describe her as having odd features that don't really belong together but for some reason make her face fascinating, do I or do I not look exactly like the image of Christine in your head?:

I see you more as Katie Midford, the mysterious author of the best selling (and possibly demon-inspired) Charlie Nyx books. I believe she is described as "middle-aged but not unattractive."

Q:
Along the same lines of the above question, when the movie comes out and the producers tell you that they require you to use this song as the background music for a scene, in what sequence of events would you place this hcrappy, why-on-earth-is-this-playing-on-my-radio, song?

I love that song. It's like Death Cab for Cutie meets They Might Be Giants. I'd like that song to be played at low volume, almost subliminally, throughout the whole movie.

Q:
When my husband gave me a dog for our 5th anniversary, I had a witch of a time finding a name for her and finally went with a suggestion from my sister. That's why I was so amazed you came up with all those angel names! Can you tell us what you used for inspiration? And answering 'tequila' is not an option (but it is an adventure).

For a few of them, I Googled "angel names" and picked ones that sounded good. I made up "Ederatz" and "Izbazel." Another one, Bamrud, was named after a friend of my wife's.

My favorite character, by the way, is Perpetiel ("Perp" for short). He's such a helpful little runt.

Q:
Would you think less of me if I told you I can't say the word Apocalypse unless I'm look at it? And by *it* I mean the word, not the actual event. It always comes out like this: wait, let me close my eyes. . . Apclopyse, Acopolypse, Rutabaga!

Rutabaga was actually the original name of the book of Revelation in the Bible. A secret organization named Opus Vegi made the Church change it in the 4th century A.D. So you're good.

And to end the interview:

Q:
What would you say distinguishes you and your book from other authors who are mass producing vampire books (besides the lack of vampires, better writing, better story plot, better characters and self respect?)?

Lack of success?

Seriously, I can't be too hard on those writers. It's just too bad that the publishing industry has gotten to the point where unless your book fits the current bestseller mold, you can't get any interest. I wrote the sort of book that I would want to read, and if other people want to read it to, that's fantastic. But if not, at least I've written a book I'm proud of.

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You can google angel names? Who knew?

Rob Kroese, ladies and gentlemen! Go buy his book!

How does a girl spend her 37th birthday? Glad you asked!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 06:00:00 +0000

I woke up bleary eyed and stumbling, as per usual, and received my birthday hug from my Andy along with a beautiful card full of words of love and shmoopiness.

Who has 2 thumbs and is blessed to have a great man? [thumbs pointing at myself] This girl!

I then went to the mirror to yawn and admire my beauty before I showered and that's when I noticed— Have any of you experienced that eerie feeling of dread when you're brushing your teeth and you're afraid of looking in the mirror because it may not be your face looking back at you but that of a sinister being with shiny red eyes and sharp teeth? Well that's what happened to me on my birthday!

(why couldn't this have happened on Halloween?? I would have had a ton of fun scaring the little people!)

It seems I'm allergic to the new eyeliner I bought and neglected to remove before going to bed last night. I remember my thought was "meh. I'm all cozy in bed, what harm can it do?" well, it can make your eyes blood red and give the appearance of pink eye, that's what!

I had to go the whole day of my birthday responding to the "Oh, you have pink eye!" comment everybody was making.

"No, I do not have pink eye you sick bitches! I'm allergic to my new eyeliner" and then they would look at me out of the corner of their eye as they made
their way out of my *pink eye infested* space.

It is a serious insult to ask someone if they have pink eye. I'd rather people ask me if I know how to speak Mexican (you'd be surprised how many times I have
to respond with "do you know how to speak Unitedstatesofamerican?").

Terrifying eyes aside, I did enjoy the day. After I removed the sheet of ice from my car.

Which brings me to another question, how did Alex from Madagascar get in my car?

I haven't chauffeured a munchkin in years!

Thank you to all who wished me a happy birthday on the blogus, facebook, email, text message, phone call, via card and in person. You guys rock! Almost as much as I do.

Stay tuned on Friday for my interview with Robert Kroese, Author of Mercury Falls, dude behind Mattress Police and Humor Blogs.

I will ask hard hitting questions like, "If you were a chair, what kind of chair would you be... and why?" serious stuff right there!

Ahhhh 37! I liked you better when you were 10 years younger!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 10:00:00 +0000

♪♫ Today is my birthday! thun thun thun thun thun!!

I still have to go to work! Bhun nunanunun!!

I had to buy my own cake to bring to the asylum! Ledadidadee!!

Everybody, including Andy, thought my birthday was on the wrong day! Peepampeepapoo!!

I suck at rhyming! Fafeefufafoo!!

I'm dehydrated from all of the booze! Baneeneenanonoo!!
... ... ... ♪♫

I'm at a loss on how to end the song.

Anyway.

I know it's my birthday but I, being the giver that I am, have a gift for you. An embarrassing picture of me at age 7/8/9ish?

I know you have a lot of questions. "Where did you buy your cool guy shirt?" "Were those glasses as big as your head?" Why OH WHY did someone take a picture of you in the BATHROOM?"

I can answer your questions or I can dance instead!

Vogue with me people!!

My mind? Gone!

Clarification, Pontification, Stupefaction. I think.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 04:32:00 +0000

Just to clarify, my birthday isn't until Wednesday November 11th. Oh joy of joys. 37. 3 more and I get a set of spatulas. I'm registered at Tiffany's.

The picture I posted yesterday was of a bee (get it? because I'm Bee?] hanging from a noose. The Asylum was getting to me until I realized I could either work or play. Guess which one I chose. Also, Andy thought it was a potato.

Andy [from his dungeon]: Is that a potato?

Me: What? Is what a potato?? [as I'm trying to make fajitas for 8 without setting fire to my cabinets. You know, again]

Andy: The picture on your blog, is it a potato?

Me: Nooooo. It's a bee.

Andy: I don't get it.

Me: It's a bee hanging from a noose. Because I was stressed at work?

Andy: Oh, I hadn't seen the noose.

Me: ... [hot oil splashing on my face]

Andy: I still think it looks like a potato.

Because he loves to torture me.

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Regarding OZ being an asswipe. Instead of feeling sympathy for the error in my bank account, he interrogated me because I asked for a copy of my cashed paycheck and treated me like a sneaky criminal who was capable of funneling money from his account to my account via my paycheck. Oh wait. That's not criminal at all, right? I mean, if I perform a service for, let's say, a person who hires me, shouldn't I expect payment? It's not like I can cash the same check twice and to make matters more complicated, the second time I cash the check it will be via a photocopy. I know I'm a genius but even I have my limitations.

For some reason he didn't believe the bank teller had deposited my check into the wrong account. He also found it hard to believe that Andy knew our account number by heart and then he suggested I no longer do a manual deposit slip, did I know that the bank could generate some with our account number already on them? I asked him if he treated accident patients the same way. "When a guy on a motorcycle gets hit by a car, do you berate them for not knowing the car was going to hit them?" It wasn't our fault the cashier decided to guess as to what number was on the deposit slip and didn't bother to check the name on the account with the name on the deposit slip.

I said to Andy, 'you know, I grow tired of calling him an *asshole* because it does not express the magnitude of my disgust for him but I am so limited with my swears (because I am a God fearing short woman). Wait! You are the master of profanity, give me a new one for him!" His response was so vile I am putting it at the end of this post.* Who knew I had the delicate sensibilities of a fragile little hummingbird?

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Do you guys remember the dude I translated for who had an ankle fracture and his main concern was having "relations" with his woman? He came in last week to drop off some insurance paperwork. I had been talking to him for a few minutes when I realized something.

Me: Hey, who drove you here? [as I pointed at his cast and crutches]

Him: I drove myself. My woman doesn't drive. [hmmmm]

Me: Uh, I don't think you should be driving considering your cast is all the way up to your knee.

Him: Oh, I'm okay. Look, I can put weight on my leg now. [stands on leg with the fracture]

Me to him: Don't do that! [to myself "Oh sure, you don't ask permission to drive but you ask for a green light to have sex with your woman!]

My head hurts from all the shaking of it.

*"You mean like Taint Weasel?" (eep!)

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My happy place

'Nuff said

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 19:18:00 +0000

♪♫ Here's the mail it never fails it makes me want to wag my tail MAIL!! ♪♫

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 06:42:00 +0000

So, I received my first birthday card of the year. It was from my friend Brian:

Then he left the country so that I wouldn't use his head as a soccer ball.

I mean, grey hair? Really? Not even if my brain turned into mush and I had to communicate like this "Waaaalgreen's hairsh dryeesh!" (sorry if that offends any of you drunkies). I have no control over wrinkles but my hair will bend to my will!

Thank you, Brian!

Anyway! The winner of Robert Kroese's novel, Mercury Falls, iiiiiiiiiiiis!

Heather K. (who may or may not want to send me her address considering I threatened to leave Tazz at her home as my calling card)! Congratulations!

You know what else is cool, Heather? Since this copy was not signed by Rob, I myself will sign it! I know! You will have a one of a kind, only used for signing paychecks, Bee autograph! (Don't worry, a little white out and the book will be good as new!)

Rob's interview to come next week because I suck at homework.

I not only hate my job but the man behind the curtain can suck it too!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 04:55:00 +0000

So. I had a bad fucking day today. It started with my bank saying we never deposited my paycheck on Saturday and that was all because they couldn't tell if my Andy had written an *8* or a *9* as our account number so the idiot teller decided to toss a coin and went with the wrong number.

Unfortunately for us, we couldn't find our receipt. I asked for a copy of my paycheck from OZ and Glynda and they acted as if I was trying to steal the Mona Lisa and after an hour of the 3rd degree, they relented. Then Andy called me to tell me he found the receipt so all was roses, right?

Wrong. Apparently I still look like shifty thief so OZ asked to see a copy of my bank receipt and the people I spoke to at the bank.

I came home, talked to Andy and we decided to give him the info on the people we talked to but we put in writing how he was not entitled to my personal bank receipt so in essence we wrote him a big FUCK YOU letter but we did it in such a professional manner he won't have no choice but to kiss my ass.
How paranoid and stupid can one be?

Anyway, I'll be back later with details on who won the book.

Norm!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 03:28:00 +0000

I was walking to the mailbox located in the building today and I saw Norm standing by the entrance. Having a lot of work to do but not really caring, I went over to say hi and see if there was anything new.

Me: What's shakin bakin?

Norm [looks at me sideways]: Who are you, Chuck Woolery?

Me: Who?

Norm: Never mind. I can smell the weather changing. Pretty soon I'm gonna have a couple of hundred people ragging on me because of the icy parking lot.

Me: jerks.

Norm [shrugs]: You can't please everybody. Some people complain that we drop too much salt and [uses high pitched whiney voice] their pretty shoes are getting ruined. I ask them all if they fell on their heads one too many times and think they're living in Hawaii. This is Chi-freakin-cago for cripes sake! Know that when you walk out the door your ass may be skating through the parking lot.

Me: I bought sensible winter shoes last year to prevent exactly that.

Norm: The plastic surgeon used to give me a lot of guff. I'm interested to see if he says anything this year. If he does I'll say "Dr, you and I can both appreciate being between a rock and a hard place." HAHAHAHAHA!! Get it?

Me: Will you yell at me if I say 'no'?

Norm: Do I have to spell it out for you? A rock? A hard place? I caught him shnooping his assistant? Come on! I've been practicing that for months!

Me: That is way far off, Norm. Maybe say something like "Are you worried your assistant will hurt her knees?" Eh?? That ones free.

Norm: That makes no sense. Hey, what is with that pale woman who works in your office? She plugged the toilet and kept flushing until it overflowed!

Me: Whaaa?? When? Which pale one?

Norm: The one who walks with her butt up in the air [Milton!]. I was coming out of the utility room and she bumped into me and told me the toilet overflowed
and then proceeded to give me a detailed description of what she'd done in there! That woman is a nugget away from the chicken farm!

Me: ::blink blink:: . . . . . . BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Norm: I asked her why she kept flushing! If the water wasn't going down, it was going to come UP! How many fancy colleges did she go to?? She said she thought that with enough [air quotes] "momentum" it would be fine. I said, "Lady, a plugged toilet doesn't fix itself!" but the worst part was that she wanted to help me fix it then clean it up. She kept trying to take the mop until I told her she was violating building codes. Then she just stood there watching me. I
had to pretend someone called me so that I could walk away.

Me: Yep. She is persistent.

[Suddenly he straightens himself up and starts yelling at an old man.]

"Hey! Make sure you don't drive over the curb this time, okay?"

[Old man ignores him.]

Norm: So I come back a few minutes later and she's still standing there waiting for me! In the same exact spot! I asked her if she was a robot- did you ever see that movie Starman? She's like that alien guy! What does she do in your joint?

Me: That is up for debate.

Norm: I think I'd chew my arm off if I had to deal with her on a daily basis. Then I'd jump into a shark tank.

Me: Yep. That's pretty much how I feel everyday. She's a nice person though and tries really hard but . . .

Norm: Have you resorted to drinking yet?

[stops talking and yells at the same old guy he told not to drive on the curb who was currently driving on the curb]

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU OLD MAN!!"

[old man flips him off]

Norm & Me: Old People!

And that's when I realized something. If Norm were 30 years younger, he'd be my best friend.

I am not a farmer so I hate it when people mess with my routines!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 03:01:00 +0000

So, remember how I keep telling you that my work computer is virus infected so I can't go on the internet and the majority of the programs are corrupt therefore I am unable to access them anymore? I've learned to live with it for the most part but today its failings almost made me lose what's left of my mind. Wait. That deserves an exclamation point and and some capitals. WHAT'S LEFT OF MY MIND!

As most of you may know, we changed the clocks this weekend. Now, Instead of waking up before the sun rises, I wake up before the sunrise. So yeah, the only difference for me is that now I have to fight the thugs who loiter in the parking lot after 5 because it's dark when I leave the office.

Anyway, back to the computer issue.

The time didn't update on my computer. Right now, as I type this, the time reads 12:51 PM but it's actually 1:51 PM. Due to the virus, I cannot go in to fix it manually because I get an error message stating "your computer is so fucked, you may as well just grab your ankles!". I know an hour doesn't seem like a big deal but, when you base your happiness on how much longer you have to be at your desk before you can shake the shackles and hit the road to temporary freedom (because we know we'll be back in less than 15 hours)(unless we get hit by a train. then it may take longer), not knowing the right time is nerve racking.

So at 9:30 I thought it was 8:30 but then I counted how many sips of coffee I've had and concluded it was impossible for it to be 8:30. I adjusted my brain clock and continued working. A little later, my phone rang and I noticed it was 10:15 so I had to sit and stare at my computer for a few seconds while trying to remember if I was supposed to add or subtract an hour. I HATE MATH! I figured out it was 11:15 and moved on to another project.

Everything was fine until my stomach started making horrible growling noises. I looked at the time (notice a pattern here?)(of me being a dumbass?) and thought "what is the matter with you, Jelly (as in Jelly Belly)? it's only 11:45! I normally feed you at noon!" 1... 2... 3... "Oh crap! It's probably 12:45!"

Which brings me to this very moment. I've decided to do this:

and look like an idiot instead of being late for lunch ever again!

Sometimes work is just so stressful!

Randumbness

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 04:51:00 +0000

So... while kids were out looking for treats this Halloween, I was finding my own treats hidden in my pots.

The squirrels are going to be so pissed when they go digging for their winter snacks and oops! All gone!

What? You gonna cry for the squirrels now?

There is no mercy in this DOJO!

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I had a doctor's appointment early on Saturday. For those of you keeping score, that's like the 100th appointment this year. She's still trying to iron out my kinks. I think it took Dr. Frankenstein less time to create his monster. Anyway, she was checking this and that when she asked me how I cleaned my ears. The question shouldn't have shocked me I guess but it did. I am very meticulous about my pre-check-up preparations so I thought maybe she wanted to get some tips from me?

Me: Well, I take the Q-tip and put it in my ear... I only use Q-Tip brand Q-tips though because the other ones are too flimsy-

Doc: No! Don't use Q-Tips. All they do is push the wax in deeper. You need to use drops!

Me: What are you saying?? [puts hands over ears]

Doc: Don't worry. I see this all he time. I'll write down the name of the drops for you-

And then she was distracted by a wailing kid who just had its ears pierced so she didn't write the name down for me. No, my doctor doesn't practice out of a Claire's.

I've been alive for almost 37 years and I've just learned I've been cleaning my ears wrong! If anybody knows what kind of drops I'm supposed to be using please let me know. I can barely hear over here!

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I dyed my hair today. I went with Black but not because I'm having an identity crisis and am going for the goth look. I just like black hair. Unfortunately, the dye left what looks like a 5 o'clock shadow on both sides of my face giving me the appearance of sideburns. I'm gonna have to own them so that I don't look like an ass when I go in to work tomorrow.

"Thank you! Thank you verrry much!"

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I'd like to thank everybody who entered to win Mercury Falls. I was unable to read the book yet therefore have not sent Diesel aka Robert Kroese my interview questions so I'll hopefully announce the winner on Friday at the bottom of my interview. Way at the bottom. This will force you to read the whole interview and not just pop in, see if you won or not and then go have pizza.

Do you remember when you were a little kid and you promised yourself that when you grew up you'd eat candy all the time because you wouldn't have a mean old parent telling you not to?? Well! My tummy is all achey now from all the left over candy. Now I'm sad and wish I could beat up 11 year old stupid me.

The end.

You want something scary for Halloween?

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 21:18:00 +0000

How about the Jack-o-lantern my niece made?

Don't worry about me getting mold on my fingers since the lucky one stuck with the cleanup is my sister, the person who gave birth to adorable niece Natalia.

Kids: 1,234,765
Parents: 0
Bee: :o)