Beware teh Jammies, Enabler of DOOOOOM

Yes, in addition to luring Otterboyy up the Lush garden path, I've already gotten Mallie hooked on Skindecent, and the holiday season was my excuse for hooking her husband on both Lush and BPAL. If you want to know why I call him the Scarecrow, click the label for "Cast of Characters" and read the first entry. If you'd like to know why I call myself a troll, the short version is that I'm not all that fond of humanity, I like shiny things, and I'd rather live happily here under my bridge than just about anywhere else.

So the package of junk from under the bridge arrived at Casa Clemson on Tuesday, and I got a happy phone call from Mallie and Jay. The kitties would have said thank you if they weren't all nipped out, but the hoomans were still verbal. In addition to assorted Lush goodies (really, what better way to hook a masseur than with not one but two Lush massage bars?), I got Jay a bottle of Troll, which is a gorgeous clove-and-swamp BPAL. Sherri said she can't wait to smell it on him, which is the sentence every enabler wants to hear. ;)

In all fairness, I should warn my victims that it starts off simple, with a Lush product or two. Then, when I've got you hooked on smelling good, I'll lure you in to smooth, soft skin-land with sugar scrubs and it will always end in delicious niche perfumes.

Beware!

Enabling we will go, enabling we will go,

Hi-ho the derry-o, enabling we will go!

This morning, I got an e-mail from a friend, asking for help finding good quality bath products. Said friend, who shall remain nameless, has been using drugstore bubble bath (oh, teh howwow!) and wants something better. I had a very fun hour looking up scent notes and compiling an e-mail full of Lush, Skindecent and Fantasy Bath suggestions.

LOL! Guess who just called from the Lush store in Anaheim? My crazy friend, who has picked out some bubble bars and promised me a report.

Last week I also got to enable a friend to the Morganville vampire series by Rachel Caine. She was my giftee in a BPAL swap, and since she loves to laugh at Twihlight, I got her a necklace from Stardust on Etsy, a Jinx t-shirt, and a vampire book I hope won't make her fall over laughing. I loved reading about her reactions to all of her gifts.

Ahhh, enabling. It's evil, but I love it so...

In which we learn that some people will stop at nothing.

Once upon a time, there was an international toe porn superstar named Spunky Labia. Spunky ruled the toe porn world with an iron foot, and thought she was secure.

Then, along came an upstart to challenge her, the beautiful, young, breathtakingly-pedicured Toesy Kerrigan.

Spunky was jealous, but in denial about her slow slide from superstardom to opening car shows.

On Monday night, as Toesy went to take a picture of her glamorous new coat of glittery green China Glaze Emerald Sparkle, a footstool leapt out from the shadows and bashed her with a thick piece of wood!

Toesy fell to the ground, crying, "Why me? Whyyyyyyyyyyy meeeeeeeeeeeeeee?"

The footstool is being held for questioning, and an unnamed source says that it is related to Spunky's ex-footstool.

Toesy's people released the following photograph, not for the faint of heart:



Clearly, international toe porn is a cutthroat business!

Dear Auntie Mallie and Uncle Jay

Thank you for the donuts. Mom didn't catch me eating them until the first one was half gone and the second one was one-quarter gone, and then she threw them out! Aren't donuts for eating?

Anyway, thanks!

Love,

Little Miss

I need a week to recover from my weekend!

My nephews spent last weekend at my folks' house, and despite not feeling in the least like leaving the house, I managed to spend a fair amount of time with them. Saturday afternoon, Mom, the boys and I went swimming at the Natatorium. While it wasn't empty, it also wasn't so crowded that it was unpleasant. Mom was relieved that there was a swim meet taking place in the pool with the diving boards--she takes most things in stride, but diving makes her nervous, and C (the older of the boys) really wanted to dive. Both boys had a great time on the two-story covered slide, and on the jungle gym which looks like a tree during the swim break.

Saturday night, we had dinner at Stages and then went to see the stage version of A Christmas Story. Dad grumped that the play changed things from the movie, C really liked the play, E seemed engaged but afterwards said "Meh," and Mom and I loved it. Mom was the first to see the big sign announcing that the Cleveland Playhouse would be moving in 2011, and given all of the restoration that has been done to the theaters over the years, we wondered why. I found out today at work it's because the Cleveland Clinic bought the whole shebang. Clearly, health care is still a growth industry!

Sunday morning, I worked at Mom's office and then headed out to Casa de SeniorJammies for breakfast, followed by the decorating of gingerbread houses, an annual tradition for the boys and me. Mom had been saving old candy (including about a dozen starlight mints she and I found under the cushion of one of her client chairs when we were looking for her IOLTA checkbook), and between the old candy, the candy that came with the gingerbread house kits and the marshmallows, both boys created houses that weighed twice as much when they were done as they had when I brought them in. And of course, some of the candy and some of the icing wound up inside the boys rather than on the houses...no wonder they fell asleep ten minutes into the car ride home!

Overall, while I wouldn't have chosen this weekend to spend with anyone, I think I managed to do a pretty good job of setting aside my distress and just enjoying my time with the boys.

In which I reveal myself as an ungrateful and tactless bitch

First of all, thank you all for the support and concern. I'll be okay. Today was a day to wear all black, goof off and mope at work, and eat more comfort food (kibbie!).

I am going to rant just a little bit here, and please, please don't take the following personally.

If you are one of the friends or colleagues or relatives who told me this was a new beginning, it's too freaking early for that. First, I have to mourn the ending and get all the sadness and anger out of my system. See me in a month or so, okay? I love you, but I can't take cheer-up thoughts or messages right now.

If you are one of the people who said, "Call me when you're ready to talk," I love you, but I will not ever be ready to talk about this. It sucks rabid swamp rats, I'm hurt and furious and miserable, but I will get over it. And when I do, I will want to move on with no post-mortems, no discussions. When I suck it up, I suck it all the way up.

If you are one of the people with worse things going on in your life, thank you for taking the time to be here for me and for not telling me it could be worse. Given what a bunch of my friends are going through right now with life, health, and family issues, I know my troubles are small. I am really honestly grateful that you have taken time to offer consolation to me.

Right now, the tactless, ungrateful bitch needs a bath.

Damocles' sword has fallen.

Yesterday, everyone in the Cleveland office received a message about a site meeting taking place today. There was a fair amount of concern that the meeting was to announce the early closing of our office. Our team leader answered those concerns in the meeting with a statement that it was not eight weeks' notice for the site; and there was a fair amount of joking and black humor.

I just felt as if something was wrong. This morning, I wore the same outfit I wore on October 7th, but with pants instead of a skirt. While some people might be superstitious about a "bad luck outfit," even if I had gotten bad news while wearing it, it still makes me feel attractive and confident. Since the outfit is mostly brown with a "pop" of turquoise, last night I did my nails to match--brown on six fingers and both thumbs (China Glaze Unplugged), and turquoise overlaid with glitter on my left ring finger and right index finger (Finger Paints Art Dealer Teal-er and Sinful Colors Nail Junkie).

When I got into work and opened my e-mail, there was a meeting request in my inbox for a 9:15 with the biggest big boss, my department head, the Codes department head, a publishing specialist from Codes and two of our three administrative assistants. I thought it was a mistake--why would the big bosses want to meet with me? So I declined and deleted it.

At 9:16, when I was on the way to the bathroom, my department head came down to get me, and made some empty small talk as we walked upstairs. I knew then what was going to happen, but had no idea why it was going to take all these people.

It turns out I was right--I got my eight weeks' notice today. The reason for the crowd at the meeting was that the two admins and the PS from Codes we all canned along with me. Apparently, closing the Cleveland office was not a big enough cut for Unnamed Corp., and they wanted to cut $10.7 million from the 2010 budget in addition to the savings from closing an entire office. There were 100 cuts throughout the company, and four of them were in Cleveland.

I met with my team leader and then the team met. Let me tell ya, it's not easy being the tip of the iceberg. Everyone was very sweet about saying they were sorry, and then the rest of the meeting was basically questions about "what will happen to the rest of us." These questions were answered to the best of her knowledge by TC (and shortly into the impromptu meeting, Baklavette). Later, one of my teammates said that I was more calm and collected that she will be when it's her turn, and I said that I'm like that in a crisis--at first, I am numb and not feeling things, and then when it sinks in, I'm a wreck. I got hugs from all of the women on our team, and expressions of sympathy and one arm slung around my shoulder from the guys.

Maresche took me out to lunch and I had comfort food (tomato soup and fancy mac & cheese) and then I came home and took the HRbot's suggestion of taking the rest of the day off. When I got home, I had a good cry, spent half an hour of recalling the worst job-related moments in my life, then slept.

I've now notified everyone, whether via phone calls, e-mail, message board and now my blog. I've also done my math, and it looks like I'll get my last severance check on April Fool's Day. Thanks so much, Hyphenated Corp.

Esther Williams, you ain't

To the squat blonde chick in the water-walking class:

Wallowing around like a bull moose on crack and shoving past people does not give you a better workout, it just makes people hate you.

P.S. You have too much back fat for that swimsuit.

To ginger-haired flirty guy:

This is the second time you've followed someone you've chatted with in class to the hot tub, only to not get in it after you rinsed off. Quit being a chicken and follow through! (Oh, and yes, I get it that when the pickings are slim you start chatting me up. You have no idea how non-devastating that is.)

To the otherwise good instructor:

Stop repeating the same exact words at the beginning of the class. You are really starting to irritate me.

To the lady who grabbed my travel cup full of water:

I get that you thought I would collide with you like a bull moose on crack, but trust me, I could see you clinging to the side of the pool and I would have waited for you to pass. As it is, you made me thank you for handing me my cup, instead of screaming "DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF!" which was what I really wanted to do.

To the guy in the swim lanes next to the current pool:

Dude, we can all see you, and we can see that while we're busting our asses jogging and jumping and going forwards and backwards, you are freaking posing each time you do one half of a lap, leaning your arms on the side of the pool as if you've just done a huge amount of work. You haven't. Stop that.

To the cute guy in the kiddie pool with his baby daughter:

Stop being so cute and such a good dad, and especially stop towing your daughter over to watch us and wave at us and make adorable baby noises at us. I'm not sure if you're married or not, but I'm very sure I'm too old to be thinking about whether or not you're married and to be lusting. Stop making me feel like a dirty old woman.

kthxbai