Tuesday, May 25, 2010

I think someone may have found my blog....

Guess who has two weeks off PAID until she starts her new job??

You guessed it. This girl right here. Turned in my notice Friday and they happily showed me the door. Not that I am surprised. I'm just disappointed that they would rather pay me for two weeks, inconvenience their customers and other employees, and be short staffed, than have me be there to finish out. Whatever. They can suck it. I'm just super pissed I didn't get the last word. I hate that.

But the good news is I have two whole weeks to hang with my girlfriends, organize my house and be a domestic diva. My kids' last day at school is Thursday, so I get an entire week home with them before I start my new job. I am psyched.

In other news, my daughter graduated Kindergarten today. I was a mess. I sat there, watching her sing her songs and smile and wave at us and I was so overwhelmed. My baby. The sweet little girl I prayed and prayed for. Time has gone by so quickly.

I mean don't get me wrong, I am happy for my babies. Next year I will have a first grader, a fifth grader, and (gulp) a seventh grader. Seriously. What the eff? How did this happen? It used to be just me and Ubes. Living by the seat of our pants. Going out to dinner and the movies all the time. And now... We have these three amazing little people to love and protect and worry about and laugh with. It's crazy.

And speaking of crazy... Some ten year old little skank asked my Mac out on a date. A date people. She asked him to go to the movies. What is wrong with parents these days? What are they teaching their children? What kind of ten year old girl asks a boy out on a date? I don't know about you guys, but when I was ten I was still playing with dolls. But then again there was Jim Stoddart. I remember thinking he looked like Han Solo. He was so foxy with his Tuff Skins and bowl hair cut. Wonder what ever happened to him??

Never mind. That's not the point. The point is some skanky ten year old asked my baby out on a date. Thankfully he was completely grossed out and politely declined.

"And then what did you do?" I asked him.
"And then I went to the bathroom to throw up, what do you think I did?" he shot back.

Oh Jeez. I am totally looking forward to the next two weeks.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Sixteen

Dear Uberman,

Today is our Anniversary. Sixteen years. I know, pretty awesome right? Every year we laugh and giggle about all those people who said we would never make it. Because we were too young. And too different. And too tempestuous. Actually I think they said that last part about me, but whatevs.

A lot of our friends tell us how lucky we are. That it's obvious we have an amazing marriage, good communication and a strong love based on trust and mutual respect. And they are right. We are very lucky.

What they don't know, is that we have worked hard for this happiness. It isn't something that came easily. And it certainly isn't something we take for granted. Any relationship that has been together as long as ours has obviously been tested in many ways. And when you throw jobs and kids and families and mortgages and finances into it, well that can be a recipe for disaster. We have definitely been through our fair share of ups and downs. There was a time when neither one of us were sure we would make it. But we never gave up. We stayed strong. We talked. We cried. We laughed. And we held on.

And now we can laugh at the small stuff. I can forgive you for eating Popsicles in bed and chomping ice while we are watching a movie. And you overlook my shoes all over the place and ignore the pile of laundry that I never seem to fold. We have successfully created the three loudest, smartest and most clever children ever born. We have a plan for our future and a strong grip on our present.

So thank you, Babe. For bringing me a diet coke with vanilla even though it's not in the budget. For not complaining when I pick Italian food for my birthday even though you are allergic to everything in it. For letting me steal your pillow in the middle of the night. For putting Clive Owen movies in the Netflix queue and not getting jealous when I get all swoony. For teaching me about baseball and beer. For understanding that even though you have tried for twenty years, I still refuse to learn anything about cars. For listening to me ramble on and on and on and on about nothing. For making the best chili and grilling the best steak in the world. For helping me put clean sheets on the bed no matter how tired you are. For never leaving the toilet seat up. For finishing my sentences. For always being the first to laugh when I say something inappropriate. For telling me I look pretty every day before I go to work, even when you are half asleep. For understanding when I need to be alone. And for being there when I don't want to be. For telling me I am being unreasonable. And for standing behind me when I need support. For encouraging me every day. For always thanking me for making you dinner. And most importantly, for always letting me have the remote.

You are my prince charming. I will always love you, to infinity and beyond.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Rough Drafts

Dear Bulimic Banker Bitch Barbie,

You suck and I hate you. Kiss my fat, happy, cottage cheese dimpled ass. I quit.

In Christ,
April

Hmmmm. Probably not the best way to go....

Dear Barbie,

Suck it. I'm outta here. Good luck finding another person who will put up with your array of bullshit and craziness.

Oh and remember when you thought the cleaning people stole your nasty cotton candy scented body spray? Well guess what? I threw it in the trash. Trust me, I did you a favor. You smelled like a cheap, strung out stripper. You're welcome.

Best of luck in your future endeavors,
April

Still too bitter? Yeah??

Okay...

Dear Barbie,

I am happy to announce I have accepted a position with another company. A bigger company. An internationally known corporation that everyone has heard of. My future is so bright, I gotta wear shades.

And a word of advice, if you were nicer to your employees they would be nicer to you. You're kind of a bitch. Just in case you didn't know.

Please consider this my two week notice.

Thank you and I look forward to seeing you in hell,
April

What do you think? Too much??

Hmmmmm.....

Dear Barbie,

I am resigning from my position at your branch effective June 4, 2010.

I have no idea what happened to you in your past to make you the way you are, but I think you should know that I feel sorry for you. You are without a doubt the most insecure person I have ever met. Which I don't understand, at all. You can be very pretty. And I hear the way you talk about your children so I know you have compassion and the ability to love buried somewhere deep within your black heart. However, your need for constant attention overshadows any good that may be hiding below the surface.

I have never met anyone more ignorant, more offensive or more unproductive as you. You have no business being a manager when you can't manage ANYTHING. I want so badly to dislike you, but instead I pity you.

For the past twenty months you have done nothing but belittle me. And yet still, I have allowed myself to learn from you. I have learned how NOT to treat people. I have learned that jealousy is an ugly and unflattering feeling. I have learned that looks aren't everything. I have learned that no matter how much make up and glitter and artificial cotton candy scent you throw on a turd, it's still smells like a turd, it still looks like a turd. It is still a turd. And people aren't stupid. They know a turd when they see one.

When I commented to you that I had been with this company for 18 months and I had seen no movement within, nobody moving forward, only people moving out, you shrugged your shoulders and said "That's the way it is in this industry. There is a high turnover."
I was shocked that this is acceptable to you. So I offer you some advice. Treat your employees like partners instead of competitors, and that turnover will diminish. Be good to the people that work with you, and they will be good to you. You will be a better person if you allow yourself to learn from those around you. Stop being a turd.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to find appreciation for the little things.

Sincerely,
April

June 4th can not come soon enough. YAY ME!!

Friday, May 14, 2010

Fun in Flag

So remember two years ago when I thought it would be super fun to chaperon Junior's fourth grade class field trip to Flagstaff? Well apparently a bus ride with 64 unruly ten year olds is a lot like childbirth. You basically forget the excruciating pain and are stupid enough to be willing to do it again a few years later.

Last Friday I accompanied Mac with his class on the same field trip. We left the school at 5:30 A freaking M and returned at 8:30 that night.

And of course, Mac's teacher, Mrs. B, the same rock star teacher Junior was blessed with, made sure she saved room for me on the nice charter bus so I wouldn't have to drive like most of the other parents. And an hour into the trip I wanted to punch Mrs. B for not allowing me the pleasure of riding in a car with grown ups who probably weren't screaming at the top of their lungs and laughing because someone wrote the word "butthole" on their Nintendo DS pictochat function.

Sigh.

There were a few differences with this trip that I really enjoyed. First, at the Northern Arizona Museum, they separated the boys and girls. The girls got to go make pottery and the boys got to dissect owl pellets. And I have to tell you, watching my son pick through a nasty wad of owl vomit without wearing gloves is not my idea of a good time, but the look on his face when he found a rodent skull was totally worth it. Plus I had two bottles of hand sanitizer in my purse so I was able to give him a proper sponge bath.

While the boys were picking through the nastiness, the museum docents walked around to help them or answer their questions. One of them commented to me about how the pellets these days were really small. "They used to be so much bigger," she said sadly. So I responded:

"Well, with the economy and all. Everyone is cutting back..."

I know, right? That is FUNNY! I am hilarious. But no, she just stared at me and never even cracked a smile. You see, people who live in Flagstaff are weird.

Which reminds me, I was right across the street from NAU and never even asked any of you if you needed any weed. How thoughtless of me.

Okay so where was I?? Oh yeah, owl pellets. So the museum was kind enough to allow the boys to take home any of the barfed up bones they found. Wasn't that nice of them? (Is the sarcasm reading through??) So my precious little boy reaches his hand out to me and says "Here, put the skull in your purse."

"Um, no. " I told him. "You are not putting a dead mouse skull in my Kipling purse. This is my travel purse and I am not putting puked up rodent bones in it. How can I explore Europe knowing this purse once carried an animal carcass? Put it in your pocket."

What the hell is wrong with kids these days? They are just so selfish.

After the museum, we went on to Sunset Crater, where I lost my voice screaming at one kid who kept running. The trails there are uneven and the ground is very soft. I knew the kid was going to fall. And wouldn't you know it? Boom! Face plant right in the black lava rock. I just turned to Mrs. B and said "Dude, what the eff? Why do you always give me the spazziest kid in your class to chaperon?" And she just laughed and said something about me being funny and she knows I can handle it. Whatever, man. I wanted to smack that kid but the ground beat me to it.

This time we were also able to hike the Island Trail at Walnut Canyon. And as we began the steep 180 foot descent on the trail, one of the kids grabbed the railings and started hyperventilating.

"Are you afraid of heights?" I asked him.
"No," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm afraid of falling!"

It was pretty cool being able to walk inside the cave dwellings once inhabited by Native Americans. But it was not pretty cool hiking my fat ass out of the canyon. Holy calf muscles Batman. My sweet little Mac, who never even broke a sweat, kept walking ahead and then coming back to check on me.

"You okay Mom? Want me to walk with you?"
"No," I told him breathlessly. "Go on ahead. Save yourself! Don't worry about me. I have had a good life."

What a sweet boy I have.

Needless to say I made it out of the canyon without dying. Without needing the rescue team to come get me. Without just giving up and throwing myself over the ledge. YAY me!!

On the way home I turned and looked at my sleepy child, leaned back in his seat watching the movie the teachers had put on for them.

"Did you have fun, buddy?"
"Yes," he said and squeezed my hand. "I'm glad you were here with me."

My heart melted as I reached over and pushed the hair out of his eyes. "Hey, do you still have your mouse bones in your pocket?" I asked him.

"Nope. I put them in your backpack."

Awesome. Puked up rodent carcass in my Kipling backpack. I can never put my passport in there again.

Friday, May 7, 2010

The Can

So the other day Ubes and I are in the Total Wine. Ubes is doing a beer exchange with some guy in Philly and he was looking for beers that are only distributed on the west coast. I know. Beer geeks.

So after thirty hours several minutes of searching and half listening to me and my fascinating stories about the day, he was finally ready to go.

Ubes: You want to grab some Strongbow for you?
Me: Nah. Let's just go.
Ubes: You sure? We're here and they carry it.
Me: But they only have it in the bottle.
Ubes: So?
Me: I like it in the can.
Ubes (smiling): You what?
Me: I like it in the can.
Ubes (chuckling): You do?
Me: Yes, I do. I prefer it in the can.
Ubes (giggling): I didn't know that.
Me: How could you not know that?
Ubes (laughing): Well we have never discussed it.
Me: We've been married almost sixteen years and you didn't know I like it in the can?
Ubes: No. I had no idea.
Me: Well I do. I love it in the can. I only want it if it's in the can.
Ubes: (laughing, eyes watering, shoulders shaking)
Me: What? Oh wait... You are turning this into something dirty, aren't you?
Ubes: (cracking up out loud)

Boys are so gross.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

What I'm doing with all my time

I am not sure if any of you have noticed, but I haven't been blogging lately. I know, shocking. And it's not that I haven't tried. I sit down at the computer and stare at the blank screen. Sometimes I type a few words.... And then I usually take a deep breath, rub my hands threw my messy hair and exhale slowly. And then I get up and go do something else.

What something else, you ask?

Well, hmmmmm.... Let's see.....

  • I go watch TV
  • I clean my kitchen
  • I look for a new job (and I am not sure if you guys have heard the news but ZOMG we are in a recession and unemployment is at an all time high and THERE ARE NO JOBS...)
  • I throw in a load of laundry
  • I complain to Ubes about how miserable I am at work
  • I stare into space
  • I plot the demise of evil doers
  • I have deep conversations with Junior about the demoralization of society
  • I talk on the phone to all my peeps
  • I worry
  • I fret
  • I eat Snickers with Almonds
  • I color with Boo
  • I look up cheap European vacations on various travel websites (Dudes. Why is the train in Europe so freaking expensive? Am I doing it wrong? Who wants to help me with this?)
  • I complain to Travis about how miserable I am at work
  • I read all of your blogs
  • I read Perez Hilton and wonder who the hell Snookie is
  • I read reviews on all the books I want to read but don't
  • I complain to Raia about how miserable I am at work
  • I revise my resume
  • I revise my cover letter
  • I watch my kids ride their bikes
  • I search Netflix for unknown independent movies that will make me think
  • I wonder how a 40 year old woman can act like a stupid air headed high school cheerleader and still think she is charming
  • I have deep conversations with Mac about how much it sucks to be ten years old and the middle child
  • I avoid folding the laundry, mopping the floor and/or organizing the office
  • I count the days until I get to see all my girls at Bunco (which is tomorrow night! Woot!)
  • I play Bejeweled
  • I think about Sandra Bullock and wonder how she didn't know her husband was such a great big ginormous douche box
  • I read the new Arizona immigration bill
  • I catch up on Twitter
  • I complain to total strangers about how miserable I am at work ("Hi Ma'am, did you find everything okay today?" No I most certainly did not. I am looking for a new job. So as soon as you start stocking the shelves on aisle 12 with kick ass new jobs sans narcissistic, bulimic, sociopath managers, you will have my loyalty. Until then, NO I DID NOT FIND EVERYTHING OKAY. MMMMKAY???)
  • I wonder why I am no longer allowed in grocery stores
  • I wonder if I will ever get my groove back. I miss the old me. The fun me. The glass half full me. And I hope I find her soon....