Category Archives: It's Not a Living


Hey! Sorry it’s so late in the day to write the Wrapping Up the Year of 2010 post, but I was working today. Put in 9 1/2 hours, I did. On my last day at my *counting on fingers* third temp job since I haven’t found anything (yet/still) and then we went out to Applebees for supper which was good in theory but not in practice since the daycare didn’t know when kids would go home so they didn’t enforce Aitch’s nap who whined nearly the entire time except when she was busy scooping up Dad’s corn with her hands off his plate and shoveling it into her mouth while a majority of it sprinkled on the booth and her clothes.

Of course there’s not much from this past year to recap. Finished my “temp” job of 18 months ago back in August and then started my second temp job shortly afterwards and then finished it shortly after-afterwards to only begin the third temp position. See above.

Now 2010 wasn’t ALL bad. At least I have my health!

Oh, wait. Nevermind.

Happy (or at the minimum – happier) New Year! - Here's to the end of another shitty year we'll one day be strangely nostalgic for.

My Daughter Was Five Months Old Two Years Ago

Let’s revisit the whole work and lack thereof issue again, shall we?

In two weeks I will be once again sleeping in, eating bon bons and watching soaps all day. I can hardly wait. In two weeks, I will basically be celebrating two full years of unemployment. You have no idea how almost sick to my stomach I get when I think about how utterly stupid I was for failing to see how good I really had it at the stupid hospital. I honestly thought my wage was pathetic. I thought my benefits were paltry.

This last temp job has sucked my will to live right out of me. The only positive it has offered is that I finish up in time to pick up the kids from daycare/school and go home. Preggo has long left the building, which all I can say to that is THANK GOD! I never told you the story she shared with us on one of her last days about her first pregnancy: she and her mom found out that they were pregnant at the same time.

Oh, yes. You read that right.

She then went on to say how her mother went in for her 14 week ultrasound, her first prenatal appointment after finding out she was pregnant, and her baby had died weeks earlier. Of course Preggo said, “It was for the best.”

I thought that finally the office would become a quiet, if not dull, place to continue working. Then Snake took over Preggo’s desk. Snake was what ADHD looks like in a 26 year old man, specifically sudden outbursts of irrelevant and inappropriate statements including the time he called for the attention of the supervisor by asking loudly across the room, “Kassie, is it OK for me to totally dislike my kid’s mother?”

I watched the supervisor as she tried to stutter out a response before I interrupted with, “I hardly think Kassie is in any position to voice an opinion if she doesn’t even know her.”

Snake continued to get on my nerves and finally one day after watching him check his email, read the news on the computer we were assigned for this temp assignment, and send a hundred (I am not exaggerating in my guess) text messages on his phone, I informed a supervisor since we had been instructed on day one that our computers were not to be used for personal reasons. Yes, it was petty and obviously a case of me not minding my own damn business, but seriously, I could hardly concentrate what with keeping track of him (of course that’s sarcasm). The next day, Snake was moved to a station next to the supervisor who could monitor him more closely.

My new neighbor was an emo-type girl with too long of hair and unkempt hair who only spoke when she needed something from a supervisor. There was no idle talk or chit-chat, which suited me perfectly. Unfortunately, the comfortable silence I enjoyed must have been too much for a couple of the other temps who made fun of customers’ names or their addresses or made overt attempts to kiss the supervisor’s ass by asking about her drive to work; her kids’ sports; the office party; whatever. It didn’t matter as long as they could hear themselves talk.

So it would seem I just may not be suitable employee material. Everyone and everything annoys the shit out of me. I think I am better than they are; that the work is beneath me. And yet, their reasons for being there are because they are leaving for school soon or extra holiday spending money or newly retired. I am there because I can’t find something better. And the dislike and annoyance I have for them is really just me projecting the dislike and annoyance I have with myself.

24 of 30: Reflection

There’s a woman who is from Belgium that is part of this temp group I’m with.

Preggo asked Belgium, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

Belgium replies, “I don’t have plans; it’s not something I celebrate”.

“Why not?” asks Preggo.

“Because it’s an American holiday.”

“Huh. You learn something new everyday, don’t you?”

By the way, Preggo is taking a year off from being a teacher while she completes her gestation.

What does it say about me, that I am this idiot’s equal?


If you are traveling by car this weekend, or you have friends and family hitting the roads, please share this.

Embrace Life.

7 of 30: Exhaltation

It’s been an awesome weekend so far and Sunday just started! Lots of great news but really can’t disclose much of it, at least for now. No, I didn’t get a job. No, I didn’t win a lottery. Don’t ask me about work or money unless you want to be buzz killers.

Before I share, a couple of weeks ago when I was still limping around, the doorbell rang. Doodicus looked out the front door when I asked who it was and he said he didn’t know. Strangers in these here parts are rare. (Now, reread that with a southern drawl.) I painfully limped to the door to see a woman standing there. I opened the door and saw she was holding a couple of buckets full of brushes and rags and she had a swiffer in the other hand.

I couldn’t believe it! Someone had surprised me with a housecleaning since they knew I was laid up! My husband? My in-laws (doubtful, but possible…)? Who, who, who??!

“Are you Amy?”

My mental happy dance stopped abruptly. “Erm…Amy? No, I’m not. But what’s Amy’s last name?”

She told me but I pretty much knew the answer before she said it. Amy and her husband, my cousin, had just built a new house exactly one mile from us. They would definitely be the types to hire a cleaning lady. Damn.

We chatted for a bit and I joked how Amy’s new house shouldn’t require a cleaning already; that they had just moved in so if she wanted to start here first…I was only half-kidding.

Now, my good news?

No, I didn’t get a housekeeper! Stop trying to guess!

I found out this weekend that my stalker/ex-coworker accepted a position in The Metro, two hours away. I will never have to see their stupid Acadia, which has made me want to key every Acadia I have ever walked by in a parking lot, ever again as they do not have family here. She will never become my friends’ boss. She will never be someone I have to think about running into at the mall or grocery store. I don’t care if the job she accepted is better than the one here. I don’t care if she’s making more money. I am THRILLED that she’ll finally be gone.

I am also thrilled that I won’t have to send her boss copies of her facebook postings but I still would love to send them to her with a note, “Even though you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut, be thankful that I could.”

2 of 30: Revenge is Sweeter When It Doesn’t Involve Revenge

I was talking to my friend who still works for my former employer about my crazy stalker and former fellow employee. She said to me on the phone, “She’s up for a second interview…” and I tuned out the rest. Supposedly she was being groomed to be the new Controller as the old one, my boss, had been promoted up the sewer line. I was livid. She’s a psycho!

I pulled up an old file on my computer. The screen shots from her facebook page that I had saved from what feels like eons ago. Even now, I flushed in fury at how careless and idiotic she was to say some of the things she had in a public forum, her pages now private, but then? Damning to the point of immediate termination if they were ever exposed to the employer.

I so badly wanted to print the file and mail it anonymously to my former boss knowing that he would not only kick her out of running for the position, he would send her ass packing. As much as I wanted to, and if you don’t know the history, believe me when I tell you, It Was Bad, I knew morally that I would feel like a shit for doing so.

Later, I met with my friend, and while I normally try to avoid talking about my former employer and all related, it came up anyway. My friend said she really was hoping Psycho get the job because she’s been such a bitch lately. I asked how her becoming the boss would make her any less of a bitch. My friend looked at me funny and said that she wouldn’t be HER boss. She was up for a second interview for a position at The Metro, 100 miles away. I had misunderstood; made assumptions.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t have to worry about sweet revenge. In fact, suddenly I was enjoying the view from a moral high road and told my friend I would say a prayer for Psycho and hope that she got the job.

Hey, that’s still a moral high road. Don’t try to convince me otherwise or my head will explode.


Started another temp job today. Go me.

While the work itself will be duller than dishwater, my fellow temp-employees should be fodderrific!

Today was training so when I arrived with the other newbies, we were to all sit down at the conference table we had met at once before. I love the psychological aspects that go into body language and such so instead of sitting where I had before, like everyone else, I sat at the head of the table. I’m such a rebel.

Joining us was Prego. A temp as well, but wasn’t at the first meeting, and one could assume by her nickname that she is indeed visibly pregnant. In just a few short minutes, she shared everything but *how* she got pregnant…the first time AND the second time.

She announced that “they” had been trying to get pregnant for three years and were going through all the “fertility stuff” but it just didn’t work. Three months after stopping, like ohemgee! she got pregnant! and was on bedrest! and her son is just fine even though she delivered him early at 37 weeks.

I was really trying not to roll my eyes. Especially when someone chimed in with, “It must have been your body adjusting to getting off of all of those fertility drugs.”

And then on her son’s 1st birthday, the pregnancy test her FIANCE told her not to waste her money on because the doctor told her at the birth of their first child she would never have any more children and she knew that right, was positive! And they’re having a little girl!

A stranger asks, “Is she active?”

Oh, yes, and with the placenta here *rubs placenta*, blahBLAHdeblahblah….but right now she’s sleeping…I’m so big, my father-in-law asked me if I swallowed a watermelon!…yeah, it should be interesting for my son as he’s the first grandson and great-grandson…(wait. What??)

She sits next to me at our work stations. She’s going to make me nuts, I can just tell. This job is supposed to go through the end of the year (unless I find something sooner, as if!) and she’s not due until late December.

I’m going to have to hear about her pregnancy for the next 12 weeks, aren’t I?

I am SO showing off my surgical sites in a couple of weeks just to trump her pregnancy blithering.

I’d Give You The Shirt Off My Back

I have a dresser drawer that I keep “everyday” t-shirts and my pjs in. It was overflowing so I decided to go through it and throw out or give away any items that would fit the appropriate categories.

As I was sorting the shirts, I found five that were from the hospital. Employee appreciation and recognition items.

I never wanted to put them on again, even if it was to do gardening or painting or relaxing about the house. I am still so angry about how stupid I was, especially upon the heels of this last rejection letter, that I decided that the only thing they were good for were rags.

I snipped and tore them up until I was left with a pile of rags good for washing the car, wiping the windows or spot cleaning the carpet. I thought I would feel better, but really I don’t.


PostScript: Don’t feel sorry for me and my inability to land a job. I did it to myself, but sometimes I just need to wallow a bit. Just make fun of me. It’ll make me feel better.

Fuck you, Mr. Murphy, and your stupid laws.

Got to have lunch with my husband today for the first time in a week!

Sparring Partner gave me the okeydokey to head home and just chill since it’d been a long week!

Driving home and suddenly had the need to poop…as I hit every yellow-to-red light in town AND got behind every two-day-early Sunday driver!

And then noticed that the gas gauge was on EMPTY!

Made it home safely with no accidents. Of any kind. And no gas, of the petrol kind!

Was even able to get the mail!

Which included yet another rejection letter!

I think I’m going to just resign myself to become a SAHM. The job offers will surely just start pouring in then!

20 months and counting as ungainfully employed!



My current temp job literally gives me snapshots of school aged kids in every stage of their academic careers. In the two minutes I spend with a kid, on an average, I constantly compare them to my son and even sometimes to my daughter. Mostly though, it’s to Doodicus since he’s already a veteran when it comes to schooling.

I didn’t get to take his school picture. I told my boss I would prefer not to. Either I would be a distraction to him or I would be too critical of how he looked or acted. But now I wonder what he’s like when he sits down at a camera station. Does he require several verbal cues and tons of encouragement to get those two poses or is he a natural, easily reflecting the verbal cues of the person behind the camera and sitting tall, shoulders relaxed and smiling naturally?

Today was the first time I had been on my own shooting every age group between headstart and seniors. In the past, while I’ve been solo before, it’s always been *just* elementary, or *just* middle school, or *just* high school. Today? Was a bitch.

I took pictures of identical triplets, all dressed the same, in their gingham dresses with ladybug pockets, red mary jane shoes and hair in ponytails. They were only two years old (almost three! the teacher happily informed me). They each wore a necklace personalized with their names. Adorable and petite things with arms like a bird’s wing, thin and delicate. I knelt in front of each one as I put them into seating position and cupped their tiny heads in my hand as I adjusted their faces. As I peered into their dark eyes and asked them to smile for me, they each responded with a shy smile. Each with baby teeth ravaged by caries. I wondered how their futures would look when they were eight years old.

I easily bantered with hormonal 17 year old boys who through sheer will power, tempered with peer pressure, were able to switch off their disarming and dimpled grins to remain stoic as the shutter clicked and the lights popped. It doesn’t bother me to take a picture of a young man trying to look tough as long as I can see a spark, unknowingly channeling Tyra Banks and smiling with their eyes.

Most children are innately happy. They don’t – and shouldn’t – know anything else. But doing what I do, I see too many children who don’t know how to smile. I can take a dozen pictures and joke and make faces and tease and the teacher can do the same, but some remain somber. Detached. Usually the session comes to an end when I discreetly ask the para or teacher if the child is normally so serious. Yes, they always answer, and I know there’s nothing more I can do but give the school the picture they need for an identification badge and the parents get photographic proof of their child’s loss of naiveté and joy for reasons only they know.

This year both of my son’s pictures were very good. He looked relaxed and happy. He knows how to smile and in a small yet inexplicable way, it gives me peace of mind.

Teacher FAIL

Taking pictures of kids for several hours of day is incredibly monotonous. Don’t EVEN ask me how many times I said the following today:

  • Sit up straight!
  • Feet flat on the floor!
  • Hands flat on your lap!
  • Shoulder’s down!
  • Chin down!
  • Chin up!
  • Tip your head *this* way!
  • Smile!
  • Smile!


Oh, by the way, I said at least something from that list 219 times today, however most of the time it was in some kind of combination of at least three if not all…and repeated twice.

At one of the schools they had a class that was made up of two kids that were autistic. There was a teacher and a para who escorted them to the cameras. One young man, about 12 was sat down in front of me. I asked him his name and unfortunately, I wasn’t able to understand him. The teacher piped up, “Ben Riesling” (obviously not his real name, but you’ll see why I used it here in just a bit). His name didn’t come up in the system.

ME: Riesling? As in R-I-E?”


Hmmmm. That’s not the way riesling is spelled…I type it in again and search. Nothing. So I type in just the R-E. Still nothing. So I try the first name. Several Bens come up, but not Ben Riesling.

ME: “R-E-I isn’t coming up with his name…”

TEACHER: “Oh, I don’t know! It could be R-I-E-S. Ben, how do you spell your name?” Ben’s blank stare is the only answer. The para just shrugs and says, “I don’t know. I’m just the para.”

ME: “I’ll have to add him manually, but I’ll definitely need to have the correct spelling of his name.”

TEACHER: *exasperated sigh* “I think it’s R-I-E-S-E -L-I-N-G”

ME: “Ooooohkayyyyy…Are you sure there that extra E in the middle?”

TEACHER: “I don’t know!”

ME: “Alright. Is it Ben or Benjamin?”

TEACHER: “Just put it in as Benjamin!”

Take a moment here and imagine this scene.

If YOU were the parent of the child and his ID card and his yearbook had his name spelled wrong, wouldn’t you be pissed? Ben is not Benjamin or vice versa. She showed absolutely no interest in the TWO students she had (and don’t try to defend this with “oh, school JUST started. she’s getting to know the kids yet” because school here has been in session for almost a month now). To me it was inexcusable and pathetic.

We’ll be meeting with that school’s psychologist again this fall. I’ll be sure to mention this to him then. Maybe by then I will have cooled down a bit.


I’m sitting at a the kitchen table, the house an absolute disaster area: cheese from last night’s cheese burgers is smeared into the table’s surface; dead flies I have killed with the swatter and swept to the floor lay with their legs up; a pile of last year’s school projects and papers are awaiting filing and photographing; and toys litter the house like they fell from the sky.

I am so very tired. Literally. I’ve been getting up before the crack of dawn (insert joke here for those who know me) so I can be at the office by 6:00 a.m. to put in about seven hours of work, taking pictures of kids who don’t want their pictures taken. My co-workers all happen to be hardcore Christians who always seem to say inappropriate and racial things while in the privacy of the car we travel in. Today the one was saying how she had caught a few minutes of the Miss Universe and how one contestant, Miss Mexico, didn’t even look Mexican! *gasp!* While I don’t have any preconceptions how Miss Mexico might look, I am not sure what my co-worker is thinking. Dark hair. Dark eyes. I wonder…is it because she’s….I don’t know….PRETTY or SMART?? Yeah, I don’t get it either.

Or how about this one: the other co-worker mentioned how Ann Coultier said that Obama wasn’t Muslim – he’s Atheist! *gasp!* I made the “mistake” of saying I wouldn’t give a shit if he was Wiccan; what difference does it make?? Oh you would think I had just cursed the wee baby Jesus to hell in a handbasket. *double gasp!*


The day gives me lots of time to think, but not to make notes or draft or even read, just think. I think about my post on Doodicus. I wonder if I am making a big deal of nothing. Maybe all eight year olds are this neurotic, which is to say maybe he’s not at all neurotic and that it’s just me expecting too much from him.

Is it normal for him to cry when his sister tears up his fundraising brochure he brought home from school? Is it normal for him to be terrified of the sound of wind blowing at night? Is it normal that he sees “then” instead of “when” and “through” instead of “thought” and not even stop to think about whether the sentence makes sense when he reads out loud the wrong word?

With all the thinking I do about it, I realize it won’t be long and he’ll be a teenager and completely influenced by anyone but his parents. If we can’t get this right now, will we all suffer the consequences?

I am tired.

of thinking

of worrying

of hoping if it’s hopeless

of fighting for what’s right and fighting to BE right

of being tired

Drifting, Lacking, Wanting

I hadn’t mentioned it earlier because to be honest, it’s really just kind of humiliating…I’m starting another temp job (about six weeks) with part-time hours. I’ll be traveling within the area to different schools and taking pictures. Quite honestly, I would have preferred to just to have stayed at home and collect my first unemployment check, but Sparring Partner wasn’t going for that.

It’s gutting me. Unemployment. I got an email from one employer that said, “We regret that you are no longer considered for XYZ position because you did not meet our minimum requirements.” What exactly were the minimum requirements I didn’t meet? I don’t know. I didn’t go back and pull up the description, but I have to believe that is just their rejection form letter (which doesn’t allow for replies) and that my experience and education aren’t really lacking considering the rather entry-level position.

One of the positions I was overlooked where I was temping for a year and a half was filled by a woman who got a position I had applied for back in January with another company. I heard that she then quit to accept another position I applied for elsewhere. She then quit to take the job where I was temping. In eight months, she had three jobs. All of them I had applied for. This was the same woman who on her first week of employment called in sick three of the five days.

If I was you reading me, I would have long ago wondered what the fuck was wrong with me that I can’t get a job. I think my husband has started to wonder, too. I feel like my spirit is being crushed slowly especially tonight when after Doodicus’s Teacher Meet-Up we had to tell him we couldn’t go to Pizza Hut as a kind of last hurrah before school starts on Wednesday “because we have to cut back until I can find a job”; or when we had to limit the cost of his new school shoes to $40 or less; or when I reused colored pencils and crayons from the past few years instead of buying new; or when I went through the “gently used” school uniforms to see if there were any good finds.

We are not on welfare or anything like that, but knowing that I had to agree with Sparring Partner that we couldn’t enjoy a meal out…? Even I have accepted that a job really isn’t going to be around the corner any time soon.


It’s ice cold in the office and yet she sweats profusely. She leaves a little bit of herself behind every time she puts the phone’s receiver to her ear.

There are post-its and print-outs everywhere on and around her desk. Phone numbers and contact names are scrawled hurriedly on notes when the data is actually neatly typed on the rolodex hidden by a picture of her grandchildren taped to the shelf above it. The information that was sent to her from Outlook contacts is deleted from her inbox because she doesn’t know how to save it to her own contact file.

The desk surface has a light dusting of crumbs from the unlimited assortment of crackers she snacks on for nine hours a day. A basket of oyster crackers is hidden behind the monitor. Pretzel sticks are in a jar. A sleeve of butter crackers sits on top of a jar of peanut butter and Potato Stix; and those are squeezed in next to a cup of plastic dinnerware and some paper plates.

There are stacks of paperwork that need to be filed sitting on the corner of the desk and on the shelves, including one that is 8” high. They are not filed because she doesn’t know where they go and she hopes that when she gets back from vacation, they will have been taken care of. She will have to hope in vain.

The drawer that once held a set of back up pens, an eraser, a letter opener and some highlighters has been littered with random paper clips, discharged and removed staples, and a tangle of rubber bands.

She takes numerous personal phone calls on the main incoming line a dozen times a day, including a handful from her mother alone. She is 60. Not the mother, but the employee.


She uses her mouse to go from one field to another in a spreadsheet instead of the TAB key. Actually she uses the mouse to click all default menu options.

She was given list of supplies to keep stocked two weeks ago. They still have not been ordered. Included on the list was a special request item. When the employee followed up with her, she said it wasn’t written down. The list was found on her desk. On it was the item in question. She’s to compare prices of supplies with at least two on-line companies. She has no idea how to open two web servers and “toggle” between them so she goes to one site, writes down the prices and then goes to the other site and writes down THOSE prices and then goes back to the original site to order the lesser expensive items. However, she has since grown frustrated with that process and has confided that she’s only ordering supplies from the one site “because it takes too long to compare pricing”.

She has no idea how to create a label on her computer so all documents and packages go out in the mail with handwritten addresses on them. A sheet of return address labels that was prepared for her remains untouched in the tray.

For all these shortcomings and so many more, it is not her that is without a job with benefits and a regular paycheck. It is not her complaining about her fellow employees. And it is most certainly not her dedicating an overly-long and belittling post on her private blog. Who really is the better person? The one lacking skills or the one lacking tolerance?

I’m Like the Luckiest Unluckiest Lucky Person in the World When It Comes to Getting/Losing a Job

The day before I was to leave for vacation, I was informed via an email by my supervisor at my temp position that with the return of the gal who was on maternity leave that they would no longer have enough projects to keep me busy either part- or full-time on a regular basis. He asked that I give him a call (he was on a work-related trip) anyway. So I did, leaving a message on his voice mail that I’d be taking my vacation the next day and thanking him for the opportunity and blah blah blah. Within an hour he had called back and left me a voice mail message that they just might have a project for me to work on once I get back from vacation. A short term one, but hey, a paycheck is a paycheck, right?

In the meantime, throughout the morning we were inundated with news of flood stages of the river near the city being met and exceeded due to heavy rains over the past few days. Heavy rains to the north over the state border from nearly a week before were exacerbating the issue. Major highways in the area were closing. Towns were under water and many homes were being lost to a flood that had started to the north and was traveling south. As the levels rose first inches and then by feet, certain areas of where I live were scrambling. We heard that our sister company across town was shutting down. Employees were told to put everything of value (computers, files, electronics, etc.) on top of their desks and evacuate.

And then one of the engineers from our company was called to assess a problem. The bank that supported the bridge for the only rail in and out of our city was being washed away. And rapidly. In fact, someone was sure that they had seen the bridge move. I happened to be in the front office when that engineer returned from his trip to the bridge. One that he never completed. On his way, he was called by the rail company and told not to continue. The bridge had collapsed taking with it three railway workers who had been on it. One worker self-rescued. A second was assisted. The third? He was recovered a week later, trapped by the bridge’s wreckage under the water. He left behind a wife and two young sons.

When your city, small that it may be, has several industries that depend on the rail system to move product out as well as bring supplies in and then that infrastructure is swiftly and decisively eliminated, there’s a shitstorm. When one rail car now equals four tractor-trailers and one company alone moves 80 rail cars out a day…well, things get a little chaotic.

Within a six hour window, I went from being told they couldn’t keep me busy to “do you HAVE to go on vacation??” So, I continue at my temp position for a little while longer in contrary to what you may have seen on Facebook. And now you know the rest of the story.

Eastward, Ho!

Last night I booked my hotel for Boston. I was a little freaked out when I looked up the rates of accommodations for the area. You have to understand, around here? $75.00 a night is high class. That includes a hot breakfast, too!

Of course, I had to rationalize the expense by ticking off on my fingers the following:

1) I haven’t been on a real vacation in three years.

2) The vacations we have taken in the past have been for the most part footed by my in-laws – because we had to travel with them.

3) I’m fucking worth it, dammit!

When I start to feel guilty about it, especially since I’m still technically unemployed (going on 18 months – fuck, yea!), I struggle with the decision to travel at all. Not to mention the weekend is our wedding anniversary AND Father’s Day. I refer to Reason #3 frequently to assuage my guilt. It helps a teeny-tiny bit.

In the past couple of weeks I’ve been doing a little housekeeping on Twitter. I stopped following a couple dozen users who either hadn’t updated in a months and months or I have never felt inclined to reply to or Retweet and who have obviously felt the same about me. I also then eliminated another couple of dozen from my Followers list for the same reason. Unfortunately, if you have a Twitter account and you were following me but haven’t updated since February 2009, the only way to remove you from my stats was to block you. So if you happen to get back into the Twitter game, let me know so I can take off the block. My stats were looking ridiculously padded by inactive accounts and I’m sick of the numbers game.

I also decided to disconnect Twitter from Facebook. I’ve once again allowed myself a private space with my only edit being characters limitation.

Speaking of Facebook, I set up accounts for both kids. Yes, I know technically that I’m breaking their rules, but I figure if a Lamp, or someone’s dog, or my own personal friend, Egg Donation, can get a FB account, Doodicus and Aitch can too. Yes, Egg is my friend and quite a yokester! Hyukyukyuk.

Sorry, I’m a bit punchdrunk (hahahaha!) from finding out that yet again, my temp employer has fucked me over. And I’m really, really tired.

Back to Boston…this weekend I will sit down and put on my analytical hat and figure out when and where and who and still have time to squeeze in my husband’s aunt, uncle and cousin for supper (since Sparring Partner DEMANDED I call him to see if he had any recommendations for hotels so now I have to fulfill a “familial obligation” with people who aren’t my family). I will also be packing outfits that look put together, but not fussy. I may or may not pack underwear. I will end up forgetting contact solution. I always do.

Which leads to the question and basic attempt at comment-whoring for the day: what do you always make sure to bring with you on vacation? What do you always seem to forget when traveling?