Somehow, due to rain, traffic, road construction and stopping for lunch and to shop a little (Dad needed some new shirts… :P), a 450 mile trip managed to take almost 12 hours.

Synopsis of the trip:
Dad wants to invest in robots… I got a two hour lecture on robots.
Dad wants to know about websites… I gave a two hour lecture on websites.
Dad has a patient in the hospital back home who has multiple problems… Dad was on the cell phone for probably three hours altogether explaining this to: the patient, her husband, the nurses and two other doctors.

My parents live an incredibly stressfull life, and they can never seem to get away from it. I think that’s one of the reasons I shy away from stress and conflict… partially because I have a very empathetic soul, which I try desperately to control, and partly because that stress colored my childhood.

I grew up fast.

Anyway, we’re staying with the most fabulous older woman. She’s in her late 70s and spry as all get out. Her husband was quite well off, so she lives in this big house in this tiny little town where my mom grew up. And she’s a riot. My mom and I have stayed with her before and she’s just so much fun and sweet and I want to be her when I get old.

We were running late (five hours), so we called her, just to see if we needed to stay outside of town and not arrive at 1230AM. She said, “Of course not! I’m wide awake.”

And she was. And the first thing she said when we walked in? “Hi you guys. Did you have a nice trip? Who drove?”

We all pointed at me.

“Honey, do you still drink straight vodka? I bought a bottle just for you. Let me go pour you a drink.”

I love this woman.

My dad is upstairs now, on the phone with the patient again, and my mom, E and I are, to quote them, “shooting the shit.”

Tomorrow, the festival begins with a tractor pull and a parade… then there’s going to be apple butter, cider, pie, etc. being made and pigs being greased.

Ah, small town life. 😛

My parents arrived without incident. They apparently slept well; I still had crazy dreams. ARGH!

Morning synopsis:

Wake up at 3AM—Dad’s phone is ringing. It’s about a patient back home. (Dad is surgeon.)
Wake up at 730AM—My phone is ringing. It’s Jen; I need to go by there and pick up my camera before we leave.
Wake up at 945AM—Mom is up and has wandered into my room. She’s taking a shower… am I going to make coffee?

So now everyone is up. Coffee has been made, everyone has scoured the kitchen for breakfast and realized I have nothing. Seriously. My dad and I had leftover pad thai from dinner.

My mom has brought out nine different kinds of baked goods… and new sheets and a new comforter. (She’s fabulous, no?)

They’ve showered. My dad is dressed, my mom is in a housecoat and I’m in my PJs still.

My dad has assessed everything he is going to do and has already taken out the screwdriver and debated the merits of screws and such with me… as I nodded and went about my business.

They’re putting the new cover on the new comforter in my bedroom and I’m answering some emails.

We’re supposed to drive nine hours today to PA… we need to leave soon.

And now my mom wants more coffee, rotfl, so I need to go make it.

Oh, and they know I blog and I told them I’m blogging about this, so every time they do something funny, or tell me what else they think they should fix while they are here, my dad looks at my mom and says, “I bet she’s going to blog about this.” And then they laugh.

Be back later… when I tell you all about the drive.

😛 If I survive.

I slept in. I ate sushi. I played with the cats. Then I went shopping and bought new sheets. And a Waterpik shower head.

I’m quite excited about the fact that my parents will be here in a few days. My mom is bringing me Almond Roca, and dad is going to install the new shower head. Yay. 🙂

Anywho, so I’m all mellow and just puttering about the house.

Then I attempted to turn on my ceiling fan in my living room. Sparks flew, something popped and the damn lights went out. I think, I think I might have a short. Uh huh. Fortunately the landlord was up and he flipped the breaker switch and then came upstairs and poked at the fan.

He’s going to come back on Monday. With an electrician.

And the day was going so well… lol.

The coworker and I spent the day at the main office with the Boss. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. The Boss’ wife is being fazed out of the company (we think), and so she wasn’t at the meeting… which means no marital fighting. A bad, bad thing in the workplace. There wasn’t any yelling or being mean AND we got to eat Thai food again. Bliss. 🙂

However, there was one little incident… I was discussing this new (terrible, very bad, no good) program that the Boss wanted me to get and use to design the images of the report covers we give away on one of our sites. I despise this program. You can only use it on PCs and it’s just very… icky. And I can design these covers freehand, so my response was “WTF?”

Anyway, so I was saying, “Well, I don’t really like it. I designed the basic cover using the program, then I had to take it into ImageReady and fuck with it..” and OHMYGOD, I just said fuck to my boss. I was so appalled. I blushed and covered my mouth while the Boss, the general manager and the coworker busted out laughing. I couldn’t stop apologizing.

The GM looked at me and said, “Don’t worry. He [the Boss] cusses all the time.” The laughter continued.

Ten minutes later, the Boss used the f-word in a sentence, paused, looked at me and said, “Did I get you to start swearing?” More laughter ensued as I assured him that, no, he had not.

Yeah. It was one of those days… lol.

I just finished putting together the mother of all beds. The bed, I promise you, created by Lucifer himself. Forged in the depths of hell by his posse of minions, this bed came with screws galore and, quite possibly, the WORST instructions I have ever seen. Horrible, nasty, god awful instructions… 15 pages of inscrutable, backwards directions.

So here’s the ad:

WANTED: One handyman.
When: ASAP, or, whenever I buy new furniture or need the trash emptied (and the trashcan protected).
Requirements: Must be strong, able to wear cute shorts (i.e., nice calves, ass, etc.), preferably brilliant (I need to be entertained when you put the furniture together, duh) and must always put the seat down.
Preference given to: Those who can cook and give massages.
Compensation: Depends on how good you look in the shorts.. 😉

My hands hurt. I have a headache and it’s taken me about five hours to put this damn bed together. And I have pieces left over, so god knows it’s probably not actually put together.

Sigh.

I’m so glad my dad is coming to visit me in eight days. 🙂

I don’t really mind spending money. I’m not a tightwad.. I’ll spend $2 on coffee five times a week easy, and I always overtip. And I love giving presents. Christmas is my favorite time of year. 🙂 Even when it comes to spending large sums of money on necessary things, I’m OK. Except when I then go to balance my checkbook and cringe.

I just bought a new mattress. It’s pillowtop… cushy. 🙂 And it was time. But I’m all about buying quality when it comes to things I’m going to have for a long time. I’ve no problem buying $1 flipflops and $6 sunglasses, but when it comes to furniture… well, it needs to be comfortable and it needs to last.

That being said, now I’m all cranky about this damn mattress. And I shouldn’t be. But I’m planning a few trips in the next few months and Christmas is coming and blah, blah, blah. Sorry people, just wanted to vent.

I was at the mattress store with my friend E. Together, we’re a dangerous combination… in that we’re very blunt and we’ll have private conversations in public (she, more than I.. but it’s funny). There were two guys at the mattress store….

The one walked us around and had us try out the mattresses. So E and I are laying on this mattress and the guy says, “So how are you in bed normally?”

I grinned and said, “Pretty good actually.” (Hi, I’m all about bullshitting the people… hehehe)

Blushing furiously, he said, “No, I mean what position?”

So I replied, “I like to be on top.” (I’m just wicked aren’t I? 🙂 )

“What about you doll,” I said, looking at E.

“Oh on top is fabulous, but this bed is so comfortable, I think any position would be nice. You’re getting a strong headboard, right?”

I thought the man was going to split a gut, he was laughing so hard.

What? It was fun.

I’d love to begin this post with something outrageously witty, but all I have is this.

I just drove into a pole. Yeah. I’ll let you laugh for a minute or two…

Alright, so here’s the thing. One of the people we sometimes work with (who bugs me) needed to borrow one of our computer monitors and our easel for a dinner/art show thing here in town. It is located in a historic home that has been converted into a garden/gift shop/place for fancy stuff kinda place. This woman’s car was too small to carry the easel, so she asked me to drop it off. No big deal, it’s only two minutes away.

So, in a torrential downpour, the coworker and I loaded the Jeep and headed to the place. I drove in, muttering about the rain and the lack of good signage (went the wrong way, blah, blah), and spotted the woman’s car. It was right in front of the place, which has a covered porch driveway—does that make sense? There’s a gravel driveway that circles up to the front door, and you can get out under the covered portion and hand the valet your key, etc.

OK, so as I’m driving along the gravel circle, the coworker is spouting about how we don’t even like this woman and why are we helping her etc., and my window was down, so I looked out the window and said, “Shush, my window is down and she might hear you.” And then, from the passenger side, “Watch out, there’s a……”—THUNK.

Damn pole in the middle of the damn freaking driveway. Who does that?!? One pole was along my side, so I was looking at it and it didn’t even occur to me that there was another pole in the middle of the damn driveway. And I nailed it.

Fortunately it was short pole (about as high as my hood), and it came pretty much clear out of the ground—I drove over it.

So we get out of the car and survey the damage—in the pouring rain. I went to the pole and the coworker went to the front of my car—see how nice I am? (Not really, I’m just perpetually scared of people getting mad at me.)

Now, I should probably mention that this is a stuffy function and stuffy people run this place. Bad, bad, bad.

We unload the car, laughing mind you, and talk to the woman we work with and blah, blah, blah. Then we realize that a) we can’t get out because there’s another damn pole, and b) the woman didn’t actually need the heavy easel we brought her so that had to go back in the car. This meant, of course, that we had to go back into the building of stuffy people who now think we’re vagrants. Yes, vagrants. Because we are in jeans and t-shirts, drenched by the rain and laughing hysterically, while they are in dresses and heels with perfect hair. Fabulous.

As we are loading the car again, a woman comes out and says, “How did you get in here?” To which I replied, “Well, that’s actually a pretty funny story.”

She didn’t think so.

She was a little perturbed.

So she says, “I’ll get this pole in the front and you go and get that one out [the one that is basically knocked over on its side] and put it off to the side.”

So the coworker and I walked over and attempted to haul the evil pole, which was cemented into the driveway, out.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? NOT THAT WAY!!”

Apparently there is a key. The poles come out.

She did not say anything about a key. She just said to pull it out. Sheesh. Ya do what you’re told and the people just yell.

The coworker and I, at this point, are close to hysterics. The woman was lucky we were ladylike enough to just nod and do what we were told.

Oh, and my car, you ask?

The license plate holder needs fixed—desperately.

The coworker and I have had a particularly intriguing ongoing conversation for a few weeks now. It revolves around guys who stare, whistle and catcall when we walk down the street. My inclination is to ignore them and chuckle, ’cause it cracks me up and, well, it’s kinda flattering. Depending on the situation/person, I’ll respond with a smile or a “Hey, you too,” response. The coworker, on the other hand, more often responds with a one fingered salute or a “Well you don’t.” And every time she does, I am appalled and we debate the commenter and the comment. We have decided that she a) gets it more often than I (undoubtedly) and b) has grown up in a town where it’s very common and very low-class (what they say, etc.). On the flipside, I grew up where when it did happen, it tended to be subtle and often nice.

This afternoon as I was unloading groceries from my car (real sexy, no?), a car with two guys in it pulled down my street. The passenger leaned out the window and, oh so sweetly uttered, “Hey there baby. I’d like to show your backend this backseat.” Attractive, right? Makes you want to just jump in that backseat, right? Yeah.

OK, so I rolled my eyes, ignored them and continued unloading. They parked about two houses down and continued staring in my direction. (Which I found highly entertaining—I was in jeans and a sweater people, it’s not like I was sporting a mini skirt and heels.) Anyway, a young woman came out of the house and climbed into the backseat. (I live on a street where most of the homes have been converted to apartments.) They did a U-turn and began to edge out.

Now, I assumed at this point that they would pull onto the main street and go about their business—after all, they now had a female (pretty cute, and young, too) in the car. But nooo, that would be too easy. The guy spoke again. This time it was a far more endearing “C’mon hot stuff, I could show you a great time.”

Normally I’m a nice person, but this was just ridiculous, childish and rude. So I turned, walked over to his car and responded, “Now, I realize that you’re about three years shy of being able to drink legally, and so I’m sure your age is a factor here, but that’s no excuse for being a rude, revolting little punk. Grow up. Women like me never, ever go for children.”

Mouth agape, he just stared at me. The girl in the back moved about uncomfortably, and the driver just started laughing. “Man, she told you. Damn.”

I don’t like being rude, but while I can appreciate a compliment and even a whistle, this was just wrong.

So coworker, are you proud of me now?

Seriously. Read this.

Quote of the Day: “I’m quite adept at going from Zero to Bat-Shit Crazy very quickly.”

Thank Grampa for this lovely little treasure.

I was quite intoxicated and it wouldn’t have made a drop of sense. Ask anyone who received emails from me last night, or who I conversed with on IM.. it was bad.

Or, actually, good. 🙂 We went to dinner on the Boss’ AmEx. Yeah baby. Double vodkas, dirty martinis and a lovely cheese experience was only the beginning of what we put on that card. 🙂

I’m still kinda loopy this morning. The coworker hasn’t arrived yet.. lol.. and I am making her stop for chips and salsa. I have a massive salt craving going on right now.

Ooh! She is here! Yay. Bye now.