I love my garbage men

Here on base we only have our garbage picked up every other week. You can imagine how much of a pain in the ass it is when you have brain-fade and miss a day...

We missed the last two.

All three cans were full, plus two cardboard boxes, plus a big oversized rubbermaid container, PLUS probably a dozen loose bags. The animals had been in it, it was overcome with flies, it was oozing, it was disgusting. (The Daddy has been re-bagging as necessary, and is on a first-name basis with one of the raccoons.)

They took it all, and I only heard them swear once.

So to all garbage men out there, I adore you. You are my heros. There may be a 24 of beer in your future, if you so happen to have my house on your route.

Another random thing that has been irritating me:

(I don't remember who has it, but this blinkee KILLS me)

"Uneducated people do what they are told. Educated people QUESTION what they are told."

Now I'm no CEO, but if I was looking to hire someone, and EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I asked them to do something I was met with "Why? Why do you want me to do that? Why is it important? Why does it need to be done that way? Why does it need to be done?" I would go abso-posi-lutely APESHIT. I don't have the time to walk you through every single detail compiled over years of trial, error, and research just because you haven't been there. Just DO it BECAUSE I'M THE BOSS AND I TOLD YOU TO. Intelligence is knowing when to NOT question, but to act.

Same with children. Will anyone think it's sooooo klassy and matoore and edumacated when our little minor children start questioning every little thing we tell them? NO! OBEDIENCE! I'M THE MOMMY - THAT'S WHY!!! Intelligence is knowing who to trust - and trusting someone with more authority and experience who has your best interests at heart.

Sometimes, you have to just accept that there are people out there who are bigger than you, smarter than you, have more information than you, and have done all the research FOR you. There's no need to re-invent the wheel just because you want to try to be all s-m-r-t and arrive at the same damn conclusion for yourself. Question things that are infinite.

Intelligence is knowing your role in the grand scheme of things. If your mechanic tells you to turn your head and cough - question that. If your doctor does it, you're probably good. If your gynecologist does it? You get the point.

Ohh, well, someone told me there was a continent called "Europe", I dunno though, I'll have to verify that for myself. Intelligence is knowing what's questionable. If the mouth is busy questioning, the ears cannot hear to learn.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is; Orders are orders, and ideas are ideas, and nary the twain shall meet. This blinkee is comparing apples to oranges, and it IRKS me. You take orders. You question ideas. You can EXPOUND on orders, but you're best to not question their veracity. It's not usually very smart.

I'd like to edit this blinkee to say, "Narrcissistic people have stupid blinkees that, when taken literally, translate into a bunch of fluffy nonsense in a desperate attempt to make people think they are smarter (better) than they actually are." Or maybe that's too long? Maybe it should just say "I think I'm better than you." Yeah, that should fit.

Educated people would realize how glaringly idiotic this blinkee is.

I feel better now.

VACCINATE

VACCINATE

YOUR DAMN

KIDS

PLEASE.

It's called "Herd Immunity", google it. It's what eradicated polio. Don't remember polio? Little kids in iron lungs? HERD IMMUNITY. Let me put it in stupid people layman's terms: if you innoculate immunize protect all possible hosts people from a certain disease sickness, then the sickness will simply cease to be. It will be "evolved out". It's like playing an active role in natural selection. For the GOOD of ALL MANKIND. So the next time your namby-pamby whiny, ignorant self opts out of giving little Jimmy a widdle bitty needle because it might give him a big bad owwie which results in a big, fat, crocodile tear - I would personally like to thank you for your stellar role in keeping atrocities like measles, mumps, and rubella alive and well in our society.

And don't give me that crap about the preservatives being linked to Autism. Ketchup has been linked to cancer, but I'll bet you still have that in your fridge. There's no proof that child wouldn't be autistic anyway. At least he'll be HEALTHY and autistic. I'll take the autistic kid over the kid with rubella (she'll be the one with all the unexplained miscarriages), mumps (the infertile kid with testicular swelling and inflamed salivary glands), or measles (ahh, popularity in the form of three C's - Cough, Coryza, and Conjunctivitis). Providing, of course, that they're not dead. But hey, beats the hell out of a NEEDLE, no??

If we're not ALL immunized, we might as well none of us do it. Break them up if you must, just do it.

For the sake of society,

VACCINATE

YOUR DAMN

KIDS

PLEASE

Lets see where my brain goes...

I have complete writers block. I'm sitting here, staring at my blog, waiting for some pearl of wisdomosity to form that I can bestow on you, my dear readers. And I've got...

Nada.

So, I decided to just start typing, and see where my brain takes me. And, GO.

(Insert theme song from "Jeopardy")

*Waiting*

*Still waiting*

Hmmm, ok. Let's start with work. I'm due to return to work in T-minus three weeks. This was a positive thing up until a week ago, when my former supervisor informed me that he has no positions available within his department. See, this is the beauty of Canadian Maternity Leave. Your employer has to hold a position for you, but it does not necessarily have to be the one you vacated when you left. Ergo, whilst when I left I wrote training and procedural manuals, when I return I could be a file clerk. Or a mail distributer. Or a human resource manager. Or a personal assistant. Or a fabricator. Or an installer. The possibilities are endless, really. My money is on the file clerk, though. I'm CHOKED.

I wrote a very kindly worded email (with gritted teeth) to the general manager reiterating about a thousand times my STRENGTHS and PREFERENCES, even though I know that they won't make one iota of difference. It has come to my attention that companies are run solely by power-hungry egomaniacs, and the peon that dares work in anything short of management should be beaten down and condescended to at every turn. However, my intent was not to give them a piece of my mind, but to get everything down in black-and-white. My company, in particular, has a nasty little habit of saying "that never happened/was said/was sent to me/blah blah blah" and well, I'm wilier than that. Here's a bit of crucial advice to anyone surfing the interwebz who has pull in a company of ANY kind. Never try to fuck with someone who is smarter than you are. They'll realize when you're trying to blow smoke up their ass, and more than likely you'll end up eating it plus interest in the form of bad publicity/legal action. Now, I'm not smarter than all the higher-ups in my company, (I speak better english TO BE SURE) but I discovered a long time ago that it is far harder to argue with written evidence than it is to argue he-said/she-said. Ergo, a completely documented and colour-coded copy of all correspondence betwixt myself and my employers has been maintained, by me, and sent, by me, to any and all people I can think of would possibly need/want/get a kick out of one. Because I'm an ass like that. My boss, his boss, the president and CEO, the human resource guy, the general manager, and a few other buddies I have there just for fun. Argue with THAT, suckas. I can't take all credit for this though, it was all Dear Hubby's idea. Because he's an even bigger ass like that. ;)

So, Monday June 2nd at 7am, I shall either be unemployed (and seeking legal action) or doing something for a company that wouldn't know it's ass from it's elbow if handed a map. I've oh-so-politely requested that somebody, anybody, contact me to tell me which position they've "found" for me before I show back up on my first day. Because being assigned field duty would really be a bitch in my standard uniform of tight pencil skirt and icepick heels. Plus, as any fellow curly-haired gal can attest, hard-hat-hair is sooooo not sexy.

Sigh.

Please tell me your company is full of secret hidden evil agendas and run by a handful of power-tripping assholes who would sooner sell you down the river for their mistakes than aknowledge your own validity.

Or don't, because if the whole world is this pathetic I might just check out now.

Sorry for being the Bitter Betty, y'all. I'll think of something so utterly blogtastic you'll all forgive me tomorrow. That, or I'll just slip you all Xanax. That's good too.

Mr. G and the Bigger Picture.

Finnigan and I went to Winners today (Winners - You Should Go...) and this was in the super-clearance-practically-free-somebody-take-it bin. Finnigan looooooooooooooooooves him. He looked so happy chewing on his "find" all through the store, I didn't have the heart to leave his new object of affection behind. Plus, well, it was $1. I'm guessing it was $1 because it only has one arm. So, it is with much pride and excitement that I introduce to you, my beloved readers, the newest member of our family.

Mr. G, the one armed Giraffe.

You know, I think this is great. Finnigan doesn't see a "broken" toy, he sees a friend. He sees a soft, smiling giraffe play pal to lay some lovin' on. This misfit toy makes him smile. It makes him giggle that throaty little baby giggle that only little boys can make. He chewed on it rightside up, upside down, and all kinds of sideways. He took his nap today with Mr. G clenched tightly in his pudgy fisted kung-foo baby death grip. He doesn't see anything "different" about this giraffe. He didn't pick this giraffe over any of the other toys because he felt sorry for it. He didn't have to reach some stupid quota that needed to be maintained in his toybox. He just saw something to love, and he loved it.

Society is all about "integration". Blacks and whites and blues and greens and gays and straights and curvys and anyone missing a leg, a finger, or an ear are always trying to "integrate". We're all trying to prove that we're just as good as everyone else. We're all trying to prove that we're tolerant of everyone else. "See? Look at me! I have the requisite 6 blacks, 3 gays, 17 women and a guy in a wheelchair! Look! There they are!" All this does is point out that these people are black/gay/women/in a wheelchair. Is that the first thing we should be noticing about eachother? No. How about instead, your boss were to say "Here's Steve. Steve is PERFECT for his job." Wouldn't that feel better? Wouldn't that make your company FUNCTION better? If the person who was best for that position got the job, instead of just the best person in his "category"? What if we didn't have quotas and fears of being "politically correct", and instead surrounded ourselves with people who had the brains and talent and personalities that fit what we needed? I know it's a big leap from a one-armed stuffed giraffe to becoming a truly "blind" society, but that's why you have all that grey gunk between your ears. It's not just to keep your eyeballs from falling in. Saying "Blacks and Whites (for example) are equal!" is Stupid. Yes, with a capital "S". All that sentence does is categorize us as black or white. I personally don't care if you're black or white or walk on your hands. Do you contribute to our relationship, or do you contaminate it? Because if you contaminate it, it's not going to matter what kind of "special" you are. Would you retain a female employee who's performance wasn't up to snuff just because she's a woman? Just because politically you need to have some women around? What if there was a man who could do that job 10x better? Not everything is about the package, people. When will we start judging people based on what they bring to the table, instead of how they balance out our imaginary minority scale?

Let's take a lesson from a small boy and his beloved giraffe. Stop calling attention to peoples' differences just to prove how accepting you are of them. Ignore the differences. Pay attention to what's important. The relationships. At work, rest, and play.

ATTENTION: Whomever stole my barbeque...

... You forgot the LID.

(Yes, seriously. Someone stole my $15 POS Walmart-special BBQ off my balcony, and left behind the lid.)

*Note: The cans and bottles that I had sitting on my deck at the same time are worth more in refund value than half a barbeque. My uber-intelligent theives not only stole the least valuable thing ON my patio, they actually only stole half the least valuable thing on my patio. They receive the gold star for stupidity award.

Life, With Personality!

Something has been bouncing around in my brain today. How do you treat someone, online or "IRL", that has very recently come into your universe? Let me give you a "for instance". Let's say you belong to a group of "regulars - and maybe a few "irregulars" ;) - at your friendly neighbourhood coffee house. You all get along, you may differ in opinions on varying topics, but as a whole there is an air of respect and general friendliness. Now one day you're sitting there with your newest cup o' calories, and in walks someone new. It's a public coffeehouse, nothing you can do even if you wanted to. Newbie McNewPerson ponies up at the counter, and brings their coffee - and commentary - into your already established group.

How does this scene play out? Are you the type to think of this latest joiner as simply a friend you haven't yet met? Or are they a tresspasser who must prove themselves worthy of inclusion? I've discovered that most will fall into a "gray area". They say - it all depends on how the new person acts, and reacts to the origional group. I know some who would land like a bomb among packing peanuts in a situation like this. You know the type - loud and boisterous, they have an opinion on EVERYTHING, and they are not afraid to share it. People like this tend to over-share their opinions, ie. "YOU'RE wrong, I'M right, and if you don't agree then I'm just going to steamroll over you." On the opposite end of the spectrum, we've got the type who will pull up a chair to the outer circle and simply take it all in. Get a feel for the group before getting right into the thick of things. Do you treat these types of people differently? Or was your answer secret option 3 - move your coffee group to someplace that WAS private and exclusive, and be done with newcomers all together?

I suppose my real question is, do people have to BE LIKE you for you to LIKE them? Me - I'm more like the quiet addition. I like to scope out a scene before I throw my hat in the ring. Therefor, I tend to have a higher tolerance for these kinds. While I don't neccessarily have a problem with Bomb People, I tend to be quicker to judge them, and that first impression can be difficult to overcome. Luckily for me, Bomb People seem to dissappear as quickly - and flamoyantly - as they arrived. The once-quiet ones don't get the immediate attention that Bomb People do, but when you do notice them, it seems like they've always been a part of things. Bomb People are great for a heated debate, but it generally ends with hard feelings all around, and reorganization of the group hierarchy undoubtedly follows. Those who have taken the time to become ingrained into the group have built up respect to and for their fellow people, and debates tend to be lively without being degrading. Bomb People NEED to be right, and they NEED to be right RIGHT NOW. Their more mellow, laid-back counterparts can (and do) enjoy the trading of ideas and perspectives without being personally offended when someone doesn't share their viewpoint. Now, I'm not saying I immediatly write off anyone who blows into my life like a hurricaine, but I've found that those with staying power are the ones who are able to appreciate the getting there.

I have plenty of "Bomb" friends, but those are the friends who are only good for one tiny aspect of my life. My Shopping Bomb. My Political Bomb. My Bar Bomb. My nearest and dearest are multi-faceted, and can relate to me on more levels - as a mommy, a young woman, a 9-5'er. These are the ones I can picture in my life in 5, 10, 15 years. Bombs have no "give", and you need give to grow.

So sit back, relax, take in the scenery. Learn everything you can before declaring yourself a master on your choice topic. Remember, it is he who knows most who knows best - not he who is loudest.

And do it over a Venti, two-shot, extra-hot, full fat, full sugar, no-foam latte with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. ;)