Reason Number 3540375438753

why my husband is the greatest man on earth.

Mothers day was a few weeks ago. My darling daughter and son in law bought me some clothes which was nice. My son got me an XM radio for my car. Very cool. My husband didn't buy me anything. He did something better. He got a contract with his job that will keep him home and working remotely for THREE MONTHS! He wrote that in my card and NOTHING anyone could have bought me would be better than that. Nothing. Y'all who know me know that my husband works out of town most of the year...so to have him home for three months is completely the best gift evah!!!

Until last week.

He got a job offer to work a second contract in Mexico of all places. Oy. So, now he goes from having three months home to having one month home. Sucks. The princess is no longer happy. Morose, if anything. So we are out on the back porch when he breaks this news to me.

"Well, had I known that," I said, "I would have asked for a Tiffany necklace instead."

I was trying to make light of how miserable his news made me.

He gets up, walks into the living room and comes back out with this beautiful little turquoise colored bag that right away the princess recognizes is from Tiffany's. I open the bag and there is that some color little box. I open the box and there is the same colored little suede pouch. I open that and see this:




Only mine has a heart shaped tag instead of this oval one. Yes. Fucker knew that I would be disappointed about him having to leave and went out and bought me a Tiffany necklace. Now, mind you, I am still upset...but a Tiffany necklace around the neck of Le Princess does a lot to ease the pain, ya know what I'm sayin'?

The brajoles on some people...

I think my blog is getting a little too public. It is very easy to Google my name and find my blog. People at work are starting to find it and that bothers me a bit. I want to write about stuff that happens at my job and now, I feel stiffled because I don't know who is going to be reading my shit.

Like I fucking care. *snort*

The way I figure it, if you fire me over something that I blog...who the fuck wants to work for you anyway, ya know? I know Miss Dooce made blog history by getting fired when she opted to blog about her employment and it was discovered. Okay, boo fucking hoo. That was a very sad story and made a lot of us decide to be a bit more careful about what we say on our blogs. My point however, our blog are our online journals. They are not carefully written but rather ranting and raving in the privacy of our own little blog world. Lately, people at my job have been exchanging MySpace information. I don't really understand the concept of that. You work together. You see each other all day long. Why do you need to communicate through a blog page? I don't get it. Nor do I give out my information. There are very few "real life" friends that know this blog exists. Why? I don't trust people very easily and know that anything I say has the potential of winding up back in my own face.

To be honest, I prefer my online friends. We talk. We laugh. We spend quality time. We share emotions and secrets and there is no pressure to keep them entertained 24/7. No awkward pauses. I don't think there is a single one of my online friends that I wouldn't give my left tit for. Truly.

Anyway, so I get home from work yesterday. I work overnights so by the time I get my ass out of my job at 7:30am and get my son to school at 8am, I am back home by 8:30 am. I may have a bowl of cereal. Unwind a little. You know, chill out, like most people do after coming off an 8 hour shift. What I don't do is go directly to bed...I'm still wired from my night of work so I make myself go to bed by 10am. This is a good time for me because it allows me to get a decent 5 hours of hard sleep before I have to pick up my son from school at 3pm. Then, usually I will take another nap around 7pm or so to get me ready for my 10 pm shift. Decent routine, right? Yes, until some fuck at my job decides to call me at 11 am, wake me up out of a dead sleep to inform me that I was missing some labs at my job from the night before. Now, I know this broad has to realize that I just got off of work no more than 3 hours ago. Yet, she calls and thinks I am going to have coherent answers for her. She also wants to know when I can come in to discuss this issue.

Come in? Discuss? Yeah. Tell you what. How about I call YOU at 3am while YOU are sleeping before YOU have to be at work at 7am and we can discuss it then, hm? Sound good?

I mean, have you ever heard such inconsiderate bullshit in all your life?

So, I get off the phone with the broad. It is now 11:30 am. She woke me up. My body now treats that hour of sleep that I just had as a nap. I have a very bad issue with insomnia to start with. I can't take sleeping pills now because I already took some to go to bed this morning. It is now 3pm in the afternoon. Still can't sleep...and I have a migraine now. 5pm. Still wide awake because this craphead threw a monkey wrench into my sleep pattern. By 6pm a frustrated me calls into work and calls off for the night. Yes. I took the night off. I was NOT going to go into work on ONE HOUR of sleep and try to take care of patients for the next eight hours. It is stupid and dangerous for someone to expect that of someone else.

In the interim, I still haven't gone in to "discuss" the labs that I missed because...well, why the hell should I? If it is so damn important that we need to discuss this issue then be at my job at 11pm when I get there...or make sure to come in at the crack of dawn when I am leaving. Why do I have to disrupt MY day after working a whole night to come "discuss" anything.

I am my own best saboteur. I probably will end up getting fired for this little foray into the world of CP knows best. I wish I could say I give a shit. I don't. I love my job, a lot. But, not more than I love my sleep or my time with my family. You just don't go interferring in those things. The phone call from her certainly could have waited until late afternoon. She could have called me at 2pm or 3pm or 4pm or 5 pm and all would be happy and lovely with the world. But no. You must opt to call me at 10:30 or 11 am and disrupt the only sleep I get all damn fucking day. Why? Can a bitch ask?

And if you know I skipped the labs, what precisely does it accomplish by calling me up to "discuss" it. Just fill it the fuck out, do it...and talk to me about the fact that I missed it another time! What the hell does it matter? Do you know how many mistakes I fix for other people and don't call them to TELL them I fixed their errors. I don't even mention them most of the time unless it is critical. What's the point?

See, this is why I like online people better. They are so much more lay back and cool. I can't deal with all this type A crazy shit anymore. To me, it was completely inconsiderate and downright RUDE to call me at that hour to discuss anything. I don't care if the fucking building was on fire. I don't care if you were calling to tell me I got an enormous raise. All those things can wait til a person gets a decent nights (or days) sleep.

Bitches piss me right the hell off. And, if someone from work reads this...then good. I hope you recognize yourself in this post and know that you are a rude human being who needs a good assfucking to get the stick out from between your legs.

Ah. That felt better. I think I shall go back to bed now.

You learn how tough you are...

when you have an 82 year old man punch you in the throat at three am. You learn how patient you are when you have a patient yelling "Nancy" down the hall at you...and your name ain't Nancy. You realize you have grown as a person when you can just stop saying hello and goodbye to people who really don't give a rats ass about you. Why ask "how are you" when you are not remotely interested in the answer? Love that. When people say how are you as they walk past you.

Bitch please. Stop that catwalk right there and you come talk to my ass, ya hear? Don't be asking me how I am and then walk past me. I have answers. You asked and now...you shall know.

Why do people do that?

Anyway, I Have been a bad blogger as of late. No recent updates. No reading other blogs. No commenting on other blogs. I have been blog neglectful...except my bipolar blog which needs constant updating depending on what personality I am experiencing that day.

I have this question to pose to all of you though. Seriously think about this. When someone is just joking around saying "Ha! That chick is crazy! She's seriously bipolar or schizophrenic or something..." do you think it would be alright if I knocked them the fuck out? I mean, I have those things. They are a constant struggle for me. Everyday I eat a box of medications for BPD and for schizophrenia. I take Prozac. The highest amount. 80 mgs. I take Lamictal. Again, highest amount, 400mgs. I take Geodon for my schizophrenia. 60 mgs. All this does not include the xanax, restoril, ativan and valium that I take to keep my not so well controlled mania under control.

I suffer with this shit every single day of my life and I am so fed up of hearing people throw around the word "bipolar" just to describe the antics of someone who might be a little loopy upstairs.

I am a proud card carrying member of crazy bitch anonymous. I worked hard for that notoreity. Not everyone gets diagnosed as bipolar with schizophrenia! Hell...I have two reputable doctors backing me up on this. Since when did it become chic to have a mental disorder? I think that is everyones lameass excuse for when things go wrong in their life. Right away they have a doctor throw them on a drug..."Here, suck on this and make the loop de loop go bye byes."

No.

I earned mine through years of torturing myself and others. You cannot wear this badge of honor of mine. There is a difference between being crazy and being psychologically fucked. I lay it on the line about my bipolar issues. Fuck. You think any less of me for them...fuck you. I will take a hacksaw to your left jugular. I don't care. I have an alibi. I'm schizophrenic. I can pretty much do whatever I want and just point to my medical file for back up. That's why it's so great to be diagnosed.

This post was heading somewhere...but I have forgotten where. Oh yeah. Blogging. So um, I'm gonna work on that and get a little better at updating. Working night shift is fucking up my entire world. But ahhhhhhhhh...to work at the hours where there are no administrative cunts running up and down your ass is soooooo worth it.

It's 8am. I just got home from work because the inconsiderate twat before me came in late. Not nice. I told her so. I think she got offended...

LOOK!!! Here's a picture of me not giving a flying fuck! Hooooooray!

Oh, btw...Sammi had a sonogram. Congratulate me. I'm having a blob. The stupid tech couldn't tell the sex of the baby. Fucking tard. I hope I am a better grandmother than I am a blogger. I used to be really good at this and now I find myself so burnt out. I mean, what can I tell all of you that I haven't spewed all over these pages in the past three years. Y'all know EVERYTHING about me.

This must mean my life is getting disinteresting. I will have to fix that.

Maybe I just need to use one of my other personalitities to blog from now on.

Rude Ass Mutha Fucka.

I don't get it. I just don't. I know there are bitchy women in this world. Hell, I fess to being one of them. I have attitude to spare and, if I weren't taking a ton of medication to keep me "normal", I would find myself in jail over and over again. However, I want to know...what is it about women who work in Human Resources that makes them such...dare I say? Cunts. God, I hate that word, but there is no other word for this twat that I work with.

I missed my insurance filing date at my new job by five days. I wasn't aware that they had a 45 day maximum on getting your insurance filed. So, on day 50, I was feeling pretty good about the fact that I got my paperwork in at what I thought would be a 60 day turn around time. Most companies are 60-90 days before you are offered benefits. BEEEEEEP! All except this company. 45 days. Okay. I get that. I done fucked up. Sweet. Now I have no insurance from my company and have to wait until open enrollment. October. Sucks. I get that too. I'm not a stupid woman, it was my error. Got it.

However, I called Human Resources to find out if I could do anything about it to fix the situation. No call back. I call again. No call back. So, I pick my happy fat ass up, on my day off mind you, and went over to talk to her. And yes, bitches, I did punch in first. Fuck that. You make me come in to talk to you it's gonna be on YOUR dime, you fucking piece of garbage. I walk into her office and said, "I need to talk to you." She says, "what's your name?" I got out the "C" part but before I could add the "P" part, the red haired flaming goat ass walks right out of her office past me and says "there's nothing I can do."

Bitch left me standing in the middle of her office. Standing there. Like a fucking douchebag who she just stepped over. Like I am some sort of piece of trash not worthy of a discussion.

She walked down the hall, turned the corner and was gone. My jaw was on the fucking floor.

Oh no she did NOT just do THAT.

Bitch did. She turned her back on me and walked the fuck away.

Ain't no thing, I thought to myself. I will just walk in to my administrator and let her know how I was being treated by human resources. I bring my happy ass over to administration to talk with them...and guess who is already there? Yes. Robyn Floss...Dog shit pile extraordinaire. I normally don't reveal peoples names, but this bitch...OY did she get my panties in a fucking knot! So, if you can hunt her down in the city of New Port Richey, Florida...fax bomb the twat. Please. I'll make it worth your while.

In the interim, I spoke to the administrator about possibly changing my date of hire OR allowing me to put in my two weeks notice and then have them hire me back at a later date. The admin was VERY receptive to me. Now mind you. I am not being a little brat who wants her way or no way at all. I GET that it was my issue. But, to not even show an ounce of empathy or to at least hear me out? No. Not gonna happen. I explained to the administrator how I was treated by Robyn the cunt. She apologized to me and said that Robyn was a "difficult personality" but in her position, she has to be.

Difficult personality? That's it? No, baby dolls. "I" have a difficult personality. I have rage and anger issues. I am not a pleasant person to have to deal with, at least prior to being on my medications. Now, I am a total lovebug. Yes. Me. Lovely person. Indeed.

Okay, so the situation didn't get handled to my liking. Alrighty then. However, I have been mulling over calling the twat all day just to tell her the following:

While I understand that there was nothing you could do for me in this particular situation...WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO WALK RIGHT PAST ME LIKE I DON'T EVEN EXIST?????

Alright, so I wouldn't put it that way. Not necessarily. I want to make it very clear to her that I am not pleased with the way she spoke to me. My husband tells me just to blow it off. I can't. I am sitting here fuming over this. My blood is boiling and I am considering taking a few days off of my meds just so I can give her my real thoughts. That would be sweet. Would I be putting my job in jeopardy? I don't know. Actually, I think that this post convinced me that I am going to call her right now. Yep. Right this second.

Be back shortly.

10 minutes later;

"Robyn? This is CP calling. I just wanted to let you know that this afternoon, when I came to discuss my situation with you that I feel you were extremely rude to me. You walked out of the office and didn't bother to listen to anything I had to say. You never returned my two phone calls. I had questions. I needed some answers and you weren't willing to hear me out."

"Well, I feel that you shouldn't be badgering me over something that was not my fault."

"Absolutely. And I understand that. I was just looking for options and to find out when the next open enrollment was. You picked yourself up, walked out of the office and and said 'there's nothing I can do about it'. I feel that was extremely rude and I didn't deserve that kind of behavior."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Dont be sorry that I feel that way. That's not your burden. What you should feel sorry about is how incredibly rude you were to a co-worker. It was uncalled for and you might want to re-think how you handle things in the future."

*dead silence*

"Are we through," she asks.

"Yes. We are. I just wanted to get that off of my chest."

"Thank you very much."

"Goodbye," I said. "And I hope you have a better day."

I hung up.

Now, let me get this out of my system. Robyn Floss is a flaming red cooch that is loaded up with STD's and has a stank twat. She is scum of the earth and the lowest form of life. My dog's shit has more personality than she does. She is a cum bucket and a low life fucking bitch and I wish personal tragedy on the red haired slut. I hope that someone treats her as coldly and as rudely as I was treated. I hope someone reduces that cunt to tears and puts her in her place once and for all.

I just called the director of nursing and told her, in a voice mail, what had happened so that Robyn the cuntface couldn't say I said anything differently than what I have said. Okay. *whew* *deep breath*

I'm chilled out now.

MAN...do I feel so much fucking better right now! Now, I have no idea what the ramifications of this little conversation will be. Will I lose my job over it? I doubt it. But, if I do...it would be worth it to me to know I set the bitch straight.

Or, I could just be very passive/aggressive and key her new Escalade?

Whee! That sounds like fun!

What would you do???