When you make the right choice, and it still doesn't help.

Hey peeps out there in blogland, how is you're Tuesday going.  Mine is sore, but I'll get to that in a minute.  Right now I gotta tell ya to go hook up with my girls IA, who's having a horrible month, you poor thing.  I hope you get better soon, and then take a trip to the beach with Shawn to relax.  Then link up with them. It's just that easy.

Now, for the good stuff.  And by good stuff, I mean horrible, horrible things.  
This was my weekend.

Friday night started out with The Mr. bringing one of his loud co-workers over.  I don't mind that they're loud or even that they stay here for hours, it's that all they talk about is work.  UGH!!!  It's not a wonder that he thinks the weekends are getting shorter, he spends half of it, talking about the place he cant wait to get a break from.  Sheesh.  Boys.....I'll never understand em'.
So, after The Mr. goes to bed me and D decide were going to the watch the newest episode of our new favorite show, The Newsroom, when I get a call from a strange number.  I don't answer.  What?  It was after 11pm and my phone was waaaaaay over there, so then a few seconds go by and somebody left a message.  So I grab my phone, call voicemail, and find that my girl KT, is down at the bar and needs me NOW!!!  So, I get up, get dressed, put on a light layer of war paint and head out.  I get to the bar, where she was attending a bachelorette party, to find out that she got a ride there, and Happy, her Mr., was not answering his phone, and he is her DD for the night.  So I sit with her for a little bit longer, dance a little bit, hang out with friends, and just when were getting ready to leave....That's right, Happy shows up, looking like he just rolled out of bed, because he had, and took my drunken KT home.  I then offered anyone else a ride from a DD, nobody took me up on it, so I went home and went to bed.

Then comes Saturday, when I'M the one in need of a DD, since we are going to a BBQ with some friends, my BFF Squish, who's taking blood thinners and can't drink, offers to be my DD.  Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!  We go to the BBQ, have a total blast, playing pool, having Jello shots, and just being with our amazing friends and having a good time.  

There's Squish up front making a kissy face, me, D, Bos, are in the back.

Notice how much the dogs like whoever is at the food table?  Hmmm odd.

We continue to these good times until around 1:30 am, then decide, we need to go home.  We're tired, I quit drinking a while ago, so my buzz has faded, which means I'll be ready for night night within the next 45 minutes.  So we left.

On the way home we were still gabbing about how much of a good time we had.  Squish's boy had fallen asleep and now it was just Squish, D and I shooting the breeze, when all of a sudden....
We come around a curve, and see what appears to be an oncoming car, in our lane about a half mile down the road.  Since we're on a 50 mph highway, at first we think, 'he must be passing, he'll get over', and then he doesn't.  Squish at this point is left with the decision to flip her car in a ditch, or try to make it to a nearby driveway, or get hit head on.  She's frantically honking her horn and flashing her lights, but the guy in the car, was just.....well I don't know WHAT the hell he was.  She reaches the driveway and as soon as she get's an inch of the front tire onto the gravel, we were hit head on.

Now, when they tell you that your life flashes before your eyes in a case like this...They are full of shit!  The only thing that was running past my eyes was, "please don't let us die, right now", over and over and over.  I managed to get out, and get Squish's boy and D out, but unfortunately, Squish was  trapped in the car by the door.  I ran around the car to try and open her door, searching for that 'there's a car on my baby' strength, and just couldn't find it, moments later the emergency crew was there, cutting her door off with the jaws of life, and D, J and I are sitting the yard 40' feet away listening to her scream as they pull her out.  D, J and I came away with minor injuries.  We're all sore, and I'm banged and scraped, but we're amazing compared to Squish, who suffered a broken wrist, forearm, ankle, femur and today she is scheduled for a six hour surgery to try and piece together her shattered hip.  She is stuck in the hospital for a minimum of 4-6 weeks, and right now she's heavily sedated in ICU.

Here's a few pics of my injuries.

My knee

Inside of my thigh.

My lower stomach.

Under my boob and torso.

Air bag burn on my nose.

We are told that the driver that hit us, was suspected of being intoxicated and suffered a broken arm.  At this point, I don't even know his name, or anything about him.  What I do know is, that in the blink of an eye, dozens of lives were changed by one wrong choice, and the person most afflicted by this wrong choice, was the person that made the right choice, by being a DD.  So if any of you out there have some extra prayers and good thoughts.  My girl Squish could surely use them.

Warning: Do not drink jug wine, while Facebooking.

Do you know what's harder than starting a whole new schedule?


Going back to the schedule that you had, prior to the new schedule.


I can't believe it's already been a month since my unfortunate and unexpected departure from my workplace, and I think it's okay to talk about it, since I've decided to not even try to get my job back there, or anywhere until D Graduates.  Her graduation is more important, than a job for me right now, plus, there's the planning of A's wedding in August, sooooooooo a job for me is put on hold for a minute.


Here's how I got fired, and why FB and Carlo Rossi jug wine do not mix.


Allow me to set the scenario for you,  I'm home from work, sitting on my exercise ball.  It's about 12:30 am and I'm on my second glass of Carlo Rossi Sangria in hand.  Now keep in mind when I say glass, I of course mean a pint size mason jar, and well Carlo, he comes from a jug.  It looked something similar to this.

At least it was a small jug in the picture.

I'm sitting in front of my computer, and a co-worker had posted that she only had seven days at work left and then she would be free.


Then came a few comments, including one that said "Now if you just tell J*** to F*** Off you be among the legends."  J*** may or may not be the VP of our company.  Now comes my comment, which read, "If you do tell J*** to F*** Off, please for the love of all that is awesome, record it."  To which she replied she probably wouldn't, to which I replied "Just a simple F*** Off and a who's coming with me, Half Baked style, would be amazing."


I would then be called into the office three days later, 15 minutes after we had a "New company policy" meeting, that told us all about the "no work talk allowed on social networking sites", and was told, that due to my comments on FB that they were, in fact, breaking up with me.  They did tell me however, that if I wrote J*** an apology letter, that maybe 6-9 months down the road I would be eligible for re-hire.  Both my supervisor and general manager said they would back me up, if I asked for my job back, because they both know, I rocked at it, but I don't know if I can go back to the catty, high-school mentality, that is my former workplace.  I've already been offered a job that will be starting right around the same time that D graduates, and I think I might hold out for that.  I know that I'll have to deal with assorted drama and corporate politics everywhere I go, and now I get to know what NOT to do, when I work for anyone else.


Plus, it's been really hard to write a letter to my former VP that doesn't contain the word douchebag in the first paragraph.  It would be a lot easier, if I had ever had any respect for him, but during my six months at that company, he did nothing to show me that he deserved it.  He didn't even know who I was, until someone brought this little FB issue to his desk.  


And I'm glad he never got to try one of my cupcakes.


So for now, I'll just wait, and continue to plan out my dreams of being a big time caterer with her own TV show on a food channel somewhere.


Now off to my domestic duties.  Yeehaw!

Life just got...different.

Well happy happy Tuesday to you all, if there is anyone left out there.  I know I've been neglecting you, Dear Blogger, but no more will you be ignored.  For you have a new purpose now.


But first...


When you're done here, hop on over to see the ever shrinking Impulse, who by the way, is looking HAWT.  Hubba hubba!  Then cruise on over to the fabulous Shawn, who's had a pretty amazing month, way to go woman and I'll be right there with ya in nine days, with my vodka and Red Bull!!!  Then link up with them for they're no rules blog hop.  I love these women, throughout the last six months of working, I've tried to at least blog once a week, and when I did it was always for a Talk to us Tuesday, with these brilliant ladies.





Okay, now back to me and the figurative earthquake that has shaken up my world.  So, you know how I got me a job, and even though it wasn't the greatest, most meaningful job in the world, it was my job and I loved it.  Yeah, well, last Thursday I was called into the HR office, which by the way is NEVER good, and was told that some comments that I had made *which honestly I thought were going to be along the sexual harassment line, what???  I'm kind of a flirt, and I flirt with everyone* were seen on another co-workers FB and although I *and others* really don't think what I said was a fireable comment, but I may have mentioned the VP of our company, by his first name, so I was, in fact, fired.  UGH!!!  


WHATTT????  


Yes, my desire to make someone laugh, got me fired....for the very first time.....EVER!


I'm still devastated.  


My job was nothing special, but the people I worked with were are AMAZING.  And I feel good that my entire crew is on my side through this.  Even my supervisor and my General Manager for our shift, couldn't believe that I was being let go.  Also, they tried to say that the comments I made were on the clock.  I checked, they were not.  I'm thinking of fighting it, but first I have to start by writing an apology letter to the VP, that doesn't actually tell him how I really feel about him, and that doesn't include the word, douche.  I've tried 27 times and failed.  I might still be bitter.


Political correctness is going to be the death of comedy.  


On the plus side of this.  


I made some good friends over the last six months and the people that really matter will be kept in touch with. D will actually make it to school....on time....everyday, because I won't be so damn tired every morning.  I will get to spend the next two weeks my one of my favorite women, KT, since she's moving away from me.  Granted she's only moving 7 miles away, but I'm a hillbilly, and she's moving off the hill.  I'm very sad about this.  My liver however,  is pretty okay with it.


I have more time to bake and become a successful caterer.


I have more time to take pictures of pretty things like this.

Sure sign spring is here.

The day before my last day at work.

I love these colors.

Also, this guy will be happy that I'm home more, for the next few months.

He has really missed his mama.

So, even though my predicament is very bittersweet.  I'm kinda happy to be home, except for ONE HUGE THING.


My weight.  Since October, I've lost almost 50 lbs.  I'm terrified of gaining it back, so now, my sweet Blogger.  You are going to help me not only, NOT gain the weight back, but you're going to help me lose more.  I refuse to stop heading in the health direction that I was going, and you're my back up.
Together we can do it.


Well, now I must be responsible and get some stuff done, so that I can go get some more stuff done, then do more stuff.


No rest for the wicked, and I'm pretty damn wicked!


Hey guess what???


I'll be here tomorrow.

What I've been up to. Pt. 1

Over the last six weeks, my life, has drastically changed.  Some changes good, some bad, some really bad.


First off, the really bad.  The day that I feared the most in my life came to surface itself, on one of the two worst days of my year.  On my sons birthday, they day I sit around moping that he's not here to celebrate his birthday with us, I dropped the bomb on my husband, that we DID NOT in fact have the money in our savings account, for him to get his snowmobile.  


Shocked by this news, he proceeded to give me the longest bout of the silent treatment, in history.  "How could I have wasted all the money, why didn't I tell him that I had to dip into savings", all the things that he was entitled to know, but didn't want to hear the answers to.  


Now let me explain this, it's not like I was just going out on shopping sprees, or out to fancy dinners, and I certainly wasn't going to the races every weekend, telling my wife to get me this and get me that and make sure I have a couple hundred bucks to get through the weekend.  No, I was not doing that.  I wasn't the one living by the "of course you can get it for me, we have a few thousand dollars in the bank" rule.  


But, I also wasn't the one saying, "hey listen, if you do this, we'll be out of money by Tuesday and I'll have to dip into saving to get us by until Friday".  I was the one who enjoyed seeing The Mister so happy, going here for a day, or there for the weekend.  He seemed content, and that made me content.  I was also the one that was under the delusion that I would get a job quickly, and be able to replace the money that was depleting at a faster than slow pace.  I was also enjoying the fact that, I too fell into the delusion that I could start getting more of the things I wanted.  Bad, bad, bad...


Luckily after five days of silence and a whole lot of "real talk" to him, from his best friend, who's always managed to stay pretty objective to us, and pointed out, that he put me through a great amount of hell for about six years, and maybe he should re-evaluate the situation before he throws all those stones, and then, he started talking to me again, but it's changed things greatly for us.  Like, from now on, until we can prove to each other  that we can manage money, we're going to manage our own monies.  He can manage his, and I'll manage mine.  For twenty years we've managed to mess things up financially, and I really want to try stick to a budget.  Problem is we don't see eye to eye with how to do it, so for now, we'll do it separately.  I know it's not ideal, but it's how it's gonna be.


So that's one of the things I've been up too, 
I'll tell ya more later...

Telling it like it is.

Why I'm a felon.

Okay, so I figure I've shown you all my good side, my mature side, my responsible side.  Now, would you like to hear what I did before I became the model citizen you see here?

I knew you would.

Let's set the scene to the Sunday after Thanksgiving circa 1999.  I remember the day well, luckily for my younger, she does not.  I was driving south on the ole I-5, doing about 71 mph in a 60, when I zoomed past a couple of troopers, just waiting for some dumbass to speed on by.  Hi, my name is Dumbass.  Next thing I know, lights are flashing red, blue, red, blue, in my rearview, and I do what any person does in this case.  I pulled over.
                                   *                    *                       *                   *
Now let's back the story up quite a few years to when I was 18, circa 1991.  I was given a car, with the strict instructions to get my license and all that responsible stuff.  I tried.  Five times I tried to pass that damn written test.  Tried and failed, tried and failed and then, just failed to try anymore.  Why did I need a license anyways???  I already knew how to drive the car, better than most people I knew in fact.  It's because we have a good driving gene in our dna pool.  So from that day on, I became "that person"  the one that drives around with no license, no insurance and a magnet in every car I drove, that would draw the police right to me.  Even without any violation, I for some reason would look suspicious enough for a cop to just randomly run my plates and nab me.  One would think that having that many tickets and missed court dates and yes, a few jail stints, would put me back at the DOL to take that violently hated written test again.  It did not.  It was just easier to label myself as a failure, and do what I thought was my best, to be a good person in spite of this failure.
                                           *                      *                     *                        *
Back to 1999 and me pulled over on the side of the road, waiting for Mr. Joe Cop, to come and ask me "if I know why I've been pulled over", when my sweet little five year old asks from the back seat, "Are you going to jail, Momma?", unfortunately both my kids had seen this happen once or twice before, like I said, I wasn't always this awesome.  So, right as Joe Cop is at my back bumper, I exclaim to her, "not today babydoll" and threw my car into drive and Thelma and Louised it to the nearest exit, then took the local city, county and state police on a semi-slow speed chase, reaching speeds of a whopping 35 as my max speed.  I was also kind enough to stop a stop signs and treat red lights as four way stops.  I was completely lost, in a city I didn't know, with a five year old in my backseat and a growing number of police cars behind me.  After ten minutes and 7 miles, I was at the end of the road, literally.  I had chosen a road that led to a driveway gate, that had three giant rottweilers on the other side, just daring me to try and run some more.

Needless to say, I was removed from my car, at gun point.  My daughter was taken to the police station, my aunt was called to retrieve her and I went to jail, then went to court, lost my "never had it in the first place" license and was convicted of Felony attempt to elude.

I thought I had had a nervous breakdown.  I went and saw a therapist immediately, I mean, I was a dumbass and all, but nothing like this.  She told me it was a fight or flight thing, and that given my history with Johnny Law, that statistically, I was bound to try and fly at some point.  Try being a keyword, failing being another.

I am happy to report though, that I am a fully licensed driver, with insurance and a kid that knows to take her ticket, if ever faced with the same dilemma as her mom.  Although, I'm still a cop magnet and still completely unable to talk myself out of a ticket.  Which reminds me, I need to send in my most recent ticket to litigation.



So, I guess my moral to the story is;  when you get pulled over and you pull your car over, just take the ticket. What?!  You already knew that? Damn!

Have a sweet day!
Marisa aka Former Outlaw