Ponderings on Chickitude

The other day I woke up with a startling revelation: my own mother is a Chick.

I know, RIGHT? GAH!!

Well, this certainly makes a lot of sense. No wonder I’ve such a strong aversion to anything chicky. I learned at an early age what the signs of Chickitude are. This also explains why people from high school always say how “sweet” my mom is and I am horribly confused. Who are they talking about? My mother has always been seething with resentment and jealousy! Who is this Nice Lady they talk about?

As it turns out, one of the Chick’s most powerful weapons is the Nice Lady façade that they display. Having grown up with it, I can see right through it and it has never occurred to me (until this revelation) that few people see through it as easily as I do. Which is why it works for Chicks in the first place! Ha!

The irony of this will become apparent as you read the rest of this entry…
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Open letter to the Chick

An old friend’s psycho wife has finally dropped all pretense of her fake like for me and written me a nasty little piss off email. Oooo, big surprise.

She wrote me an email a few weeks ago, begging to be friends and even after I told her flat out that I’m not a neuroses supporting kind of friend (more of a Dr Phil, read your beads kind), she still invited me to give her my input. So I did, knowing full well that she’d take every single word of it and turn it into me being “mean-spirited and unkind”.

Yah, yah, and I cause global warming, disease and pestilence, too. Or does Caroline have pestilence? Anyway, yah, I’m eeeeeevviiillll and horrible and you’re an innocent little princess. What a load of horseshit.

Just another in a loooong list of neurotic, insecure CHICKS that think they have hidden their disdain for me and I never saw it coming. Right. This ain’t my first rodeo, honey, I do have a clue.

Chick, do you really think that for one instant I thought you had any sort of vague like or respect for me? You are delusional. You have had nothing but hatred and jealousy of me since the instant we met [actually, WAY before that] and you’ve been waiting for the right time to lash out and show me just how immature and jealous you really are. Well, I got the message.

Now let me give you one:

Dear Chick:

You’re right, I do feel sorry for my friend having to put up with you. You are irrational, flakey, neurotic and insecure. I also know that he had to sneak to call me because I’m sure you’d pitch a fit if he did it in front of you. As a matter of fact, you admitted this in your email. And if you think that I had plans to be “friends” with you, you are sorely mistaken. I’m not that dumb, sweetheart. You are a chick and you are not worth the effort. Perhaps this is why you have no friends? [Per your email to me as well.] You whine and “commiserate” only in the academic sense, what you really want is sympathy and someone to tell you how great you are and how awful everyone else is. I told you very clearly that I am not that someone, yet you chose to invite me to comment. Your discomfort is not my problem. Grow the fuck up.

I don’t really care about our lives “intersecting”. Never have. I knew this day would come and I’m fine with it. You are not the kind of woman I’ll ever want to be around. Not at the moment, anyway. You could grow, who knows? But I doubt it, since you are older than I am and still an immature twit.

Sincerely,
The EVIL Ex

To my friend who married this woman, I wish you much luck – good thing you have the patience of Job. You’ll always have a special place in my heart. You are hereby released from having to sneak and call me. And no, I don’t expect to hear from you ever again. I’m OK with that. You will be placed in the category Those Whose Neurotic Wives Disapprove. You can keep Dean company. :-)

Server upgrades and Teh Crazies

The server upgrade finally happened and my WP is working better than ever (oh, hello Dashboard functions that now work!). I knew that it’d run better with current PHP software. Why the hosting company is so reluctant to upgrade is beyond me. You just gotta, yanno, I’m paying you to keep things current. So they did, it’s working great and all’s well with the sites.

Gotta get ramped up for Teh Crazies™ of the holidays. We are not going to go anywhere this year. My brother has already voiced his displeasure at my “disrespect”. Right. It’s MY disrespect that ran us off in the first place. I simply do not feel like running the roads and dealing with the vortex of negative up there. No more, no less. I know they have all “apologized” via the birthday cards they sent. I know that’s as close to an apology I’ll EVER get from any of them. And frankly, it doesn’t matter much, those “apologies”.

It’s not about apologies and pretending that they love the holidays and therefore I should come up there. It’s really not. It’s about me being 44 and TIRED. I’m tired of doing all the running. I’m tired of getting there only to be completely ignored and left to sit at the kitchen table with Nick (um, I can do that in the comfort of my own home, OKTHXBAI). I’m tired of being bullied into coming up there then talked to like I’m the dumbest asshole who ever lived and I’m the biggest fucking ingrate EVAR to bother them by being there. It’s fucking psychotic and I’m TIRED OF IT. Plain and simple.

I’m sure I’ll have to deal with more venom and bile from them for this bit of rebellion. For all the years of bullshit I’ve gotten from them, I ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS head up there for fucking xmas. It’s like a death march. I hate it and it ruins my holidays to have to run up there and deal with the horrible negative vibes of that place. But yet, for my whole adult life, I’ve obediently trotted up there and done my time.

Well, excuse me if I want to actually have a holiday season to my fucking self. Just me and my boi. And my cats. And my friends. If I feel like going somewhere, I’ll go. If not, I’ll sit here on my fucking couch, yo. NO PRESSURE.

I really don’t know why I’m apologising. Can I not live my own life? What is so wrong with that? It’s maddening, I tell you.

I do wish my Gran was doing better, and I’m conflicted about seeing her. I remember her on her couch, chatting and having a good day. I really don’t want to remember her in a nursing home, out of her head, waiting to die. Which is what I think I’d find. I’ve seen several relatives in nursing homes and hospitals right before they died and IT SUCKED. Those are the memories that STUCK WITH ME. I really don’t want that for my Gran. Really.

What to do? Should I suck it up and go to the nursing home and risk having a bad memory or should I simply call for updates and remember her my way? What say you, hivemind? What say you?

This holiday season will suck in its own special way for me. Mainly it’s my Gran that is bothering me – more than the family bullshit. I’m used to family drama, but I’m not used to the notion that my Gran will be gone soon. Not at all. ::sigh::

Bring on Teh Crazies. It’s the fucking holidays! Yay! :-(

Chili’s Employee Party ca. 1985

I worked at Chili’s in Knoxville around ’85 when it was freshly bought by Brinker (Maggiano’s, On The Border, Romano’s). This was before the days when corporate food ruled the Earth.

It was your typical restaurant scene: mostly 20 somethings, working hard for tips then spending it all on booze at the club across the street. (Some things NEVER change!)

Anyway, this was before the days of “holiday” parties that don’t allow booze and other corporate bullshit and our management decided to give us a summer party. I can’t remember if it was Memorial Day or Labour Day, but it was summer. They reserved Carbide Park (a national park in Oak Ridge TN that was created for Union Carbide employees back in the day) and told us that once the gate was closed, we were in for the night. This was how they got this approved, I’m sure. It prevents drinking and driving.

We all take pup tents and the store provided TONS of burgers and sides and three or four 6 foot long bar coolers FULL of booze. Yes, you read that right: FREE BOOZE. The party was supposed to be for the over 21 only, but I know that even the 20 year olds were there. I was one of them. ;-)

We get there in the afternoon and the cooks start grilling and everyone is WOO HOO! and getting drunk. Let me tell you something, for those of you who’ve never worked in a restaurant: restaurant peeps can DRINK. Everyone was wasted in short order.

Everything is blurry – it’s been 24 years! – but I do remember eating burgers and drinking everything in site. So the party rocks into the night and I remember few details of that. What I do recall is sobering up sometime in the night and realising that we are hungry. We stumble down to the grills and scavenge for some leftovers. Well, we found them: burgers that had been abandoned on the grill hours earlier! We were drunk enough to think that these were perfectly fine to eat, so we did. I also remember digging around in the coolers looking for ANYTHING to drink – water, cokes, anything – and only finding some opened bottles of white zinfandel (it was big in the 80s, but still as gross as it is now). We feasted on nasty burgers and white zin then we promptly ended up in the bathrooms violently ill from the BAD BURGERS we’d eaten.

I remember throwing up a lot, then crawling into a pup tent with someone and passing out. The next day we all had to help clean up, but as soon as they opened the gates I zoomed out and went home to sleep it off.

Yah, I still remember the little hot pink beach dress I wore – I loved that thing. I wore it OUT. And I was driving my ’79 convertible bug (baby blue w/ white top). I also remember the WOO HOO factor of this party. It was off the chain.

This sort of thing would NEVER happen today, but lemme tell ya: it was crazy fun. Despite the grueling work and the low pay, working in the food biz was a fun time for me. I can’t imagine working as a waitress my whole life, but for 20-somethings, it’s the perfect job. There’s little responsibility, no skills required and the money is ok. You can show up drunk and still do the job. And no one CARES.

Ah, I still get some warm fuzzies when thinking about my tour of duty in the restaurant biz. I wouldn’t do it now for anything, but I think everyone should work in the industry for 6 months. It should be required. Then perhaps everyone would understand how fucking hard the work is and why longterm restaurant people are usually fucking alcoholics and/or pot heads. And perhaps they’d understand how to TIP.

Ah, the days of my youth. 20, stupid and in East TN. Gods, I shudder to think of how I’d be if I had stayed there. But, I tell you, I did have fun. Lots of it! :-)

Happy 5th Anniversary!

This year, my Weasel is in charge of the arrangements. I’m usually the planner for stuff, so it’s nice to just sit back and let him do the work!

First thing this morning a big ole box of long stem roses arrived via FedEx (unfortunately they arrived while Nick was still here, which sort of ruined the surprise). He also gave me a card that I couldn’t open until he left. As soon as the front door closed I opened it up and it informs me we’ll be going to Sushi Avenue for dinner tonite. Hmm, odd choice, but hey, I *do* love sake! [update: I can choose which restaurant I want to go to when we go to Decatur! Yay!]

I’ve got a couple of things to do for the evening as well. I’ll be going out later to round up what I need. The gift I got has been here for a week, I just need to figure out how to present it!

So, Happy Anniversary to us! Yay! And to my Weasel: I love you honey! MUWAH!