My Life as a Hotfessional

…get the tissues ready. I’m so full of champagne thankfulness for y’all today. I know I’m not a “famous” blogger. I know I came to blogging way too late to be a Mommy-Blogger-Extraordinaire or Funny Lady. But the last few months have been a real joy. I started out blogging because Mr. Hot seemed to think that my life was funny. Ha! I’ve been stalked by a ghost from my past. (We’ve since made our peace.) I’ve shared my fear of losing my job and my love for my grandmother.  I’ve told you about the romance of business travel and fucking weird shit that has happened. I bought this and had to beg for comments. I participated in NoBloPoMoMoFoShoNufWeDidIt. And yet, through the shots of vodka and the bottles o’ wine, I’ve discovered a community here.  And I’m grateful.

Can I tell y’all? (Witness!)

(Mr. Hot is in the kitchen singing Marvin Gaye. And Poopy the Puppy is draped across my legs in the living room. It only seems appropriate to Praise! and Hail! and OMG, I’m going to be struck by lightening one of these days.  Hell Yea.  [I didn’t spend 7 years in West-By-Gawd-Virginia and not learn how to say Hell Yea.])

I can’t miss a day without checking in to make sure that Candy is okay. And that Kelley and Boo are behaving themselves. And that Kristabella and Marianne and Briar’s Mom are having fun.

On New Year’s Eve, I will be in the office in the morning and then will go with Mr. Hot and Shortman to see the Detroit Pistons beat the Milwaukee Bucks (I don’t think I have any Wisconsin readers, but if I do, c’mon, show yourselves!). It has become a tradition in our family - eat at the Palace Grille buffet and waddle to our seats to cheer RIP and the Prince to victory.    One year, we left our rental house with the taps for hot water in the shower broken to make it to the game - thank goodness we had a great landlord - we seriously could have come home to floods and pestilence!

But, I have to tell y’all thank you. Thank you all so very much for making these past seven months so much fun. For introducing me to a whole new world out there in the internets.

I hope you prosper in 2008. That all of your fondest wishes come true. Please believe me when I tell you all that you deserve your brightest and boldest dreams - that were it in my power - I would easily grant you all of them. For those of you that read “My Life as a Hotfessional” - for those of you who commented and emailed me - you will never know how much I love to see the new emails in my inbox.  I hope we are able to become even better friends in the coming months.

Happy New Year to All of You. May 2008 bring you all that you wish for.  For there is no better life for any of us than to be surrounded by those we love and those who love us in return.

One thing I’ve always prided myself on, being in the service industry my entire working life, is….Service!  Amazing how that works, isn’t it?  Apparently not all of the people we pay to help us feel the same way.

Yesterday, we went up to Mt. Trashmore so Shortman could do some snowboarding.  The lodge has three separate facilities for those of us who hate the suck-ass snow and cold.  The first is a bring-your-own everything.  Food, drink, entertainment.  The second has a lot of picnic tables, is kept (slightly) warmer,  and the kind of snackbar type of food that costs way too much.  Think $3 for a slice of pizza; $3.66 for some mozzarella sticks, $2.50 for a bottle of water.  The third is an honest-to-goodness (humph) restaurant with a bar and menus. 

We decided to have a real meal for lunch yesterday, so we headed over to place #3 after Shortman had been out on the slopes for a while.  We walked in, looked around for a hostess, saw nothing that indicated we shouldn’t seat ourselves (of course, the conglomeration of Ski Patrol parkas that were clustered around the entryway blocking the entrance made for some manuvering skill similar to what some of the skiers were experiencing out on the slopes).

We sat at a table over in the corner so we could store Shortman’s snowboard bag and the other assorted shit we had with us out of the way.  And we waited. 

I tried to catch a couple of servers’ eyes.  Nothing. 

Finally, someone came out of the kitchen, and I beckoned, “Excuse me, could we have menus?”  She looked at us, and said, “Did a hostess seat you here?”  When we told her that there was no hostess when we walked in, nor any sign indicating we should expect one, she replied, “Well, you’re in my area, but I was just about to go on break.”  (Straw #1)

We picked up our things - all the while looking at her.  She started stammering, “I mean, I was going to go on break, but I’d much rather serve you than take my break.”  If I heard the word break one more time, I was going to break something - probably her head.  (Straw #2)

We insisted that we didn’t want to inconvenience her; heaven forbid she should have to, y’know, do her fucking job, so we got up and moved to another table. 

She followed us.  (Straw #3)

I do have to give her credit.  She was obviously concerned that we were going to cause a scene. (Moi?  Geez.  Like that would ever happen.  snirk.)  She took our drink orders, and someone else brought us menus.  Then, because “The Manager just came in, and is switching everyone’s tables”, another server came to take our order. 

I ordered the pulled pork sandwich with fries, Shortman had the Chicken Ceasar Wrap, and Mr. Hot ordered the Cheeseburger with mozzarella cheese and onion rings.  The waiter wanted us to know that the onion rings would be an extra $0.50.  (Actually, the menu said an extra $1, but okay, whatever.) 

When we got our food, Mr. Hot’s had french fries - and feta cheese on the burger.   He wouldn’t let me say anything, (because, y’know, my reputation obviously followed me to a place I’ve only been once before in my entire life!), claimed it was okay, he was too hungry to wait for them to change it to the correct order.  The server must have seen my face, but for the life of himself, couldn’t figure out what was wrong.  He kept apologizing, “I’m sorry if there’s something wrong.”  Mr. Hot kept telling him there was nothing wrong.  I just kept the grin plastered on my face. (Straw #4)

Shortman couldn’t figure out why I thought the waiter was at fault.  I tried to explain that I always double-checked stuff - and since there was only three orders, he could have certainly done a quick once-over to see if it was all right.  Especially since he told us he was new.  AND since we discussed the extra surcharge on the onion rings. 

These are really little things, I know, but when you pride yourself on being helpful and understanding of your clients (no matter how freakin’ stupid they are!), all of the little things add up to one BIG disappointment in how we treat others today.

There’s my little rant for now. 

On the other hand!  My new printer/scanner/copier/vibrator/masseuse would not power on yesterday.  Nothing I did or screamed would help.  I plugged it into a different outlet.  I changed the USB port.  I crossed myself, ate 3 sprigs of garlic and faced the west while throwing salt over my shoulder.  It was deader than the Ghost of Christmas Past.  (And the garlic?  Chased away Mr. Hot.  Damn.) 

I spent 40 minutes trying to resurrect the damn thing.  I hadn’t even used it!  Mr. Hot had printed a single sheet of paper.  Fucking power outage.  Fried the thing.  I knew I was going to have to deal with an Amazon return and packing and waiting and damnity damn damn damn. 

I decided to search for “Canon 530 will not power up”.  Lo and Behold, CNet.com came through for me!  (I’m going to lick CNet.com.)  Specifically, “When there’s a power surge, unplug your Canon printer for a minimum of 20 minutes to reset all memory.”  I unplugged it. About 4 hours later, I was ready to take a deep breath and plug it back in.  …….  Like I said, I’m going to lick CNet.com.  And therefore, because of the success of that little exercise, I am giving you some scanned pics, as promised!

A 10-year-old Hotfessional - Complete with Birthday Cake:

An 11th Grade Hotfessional - Check out the specs, y’all.  1980 in all its glory:

And this one is for Bossy - so she’ll understand my obsession joy whenever she posts a picture of Stella.  Me and my puppy, Bibi.  She was about 18 months here.  She lived to the ripe old age of 11 - nearly unheard of for a giant breed. 

—- And no comments about the shorts please.  This was circa 1978. —-

…and there I sat, ready to hit publish when [plop] - all the lights went out.  No lights, no internet.   Also?  No wind.  No snow.  No rain.  WTF?  Whose idea of a joke is this?

Have I mentioned that when our lights go out, we have no water either?  Because the well pump runs on electricity.  And the heat?  also electric.  All appliances?  you got it.

We got out the candles, lit everything up, and gathered blankets.  We called the power company, and were told (by an electronic voice) that they were so busy, they would need to call us back.  The Voice recited the phone number, and asked for an alternate phone number.  I gave her/him my cell.

Then, after staring at each other for about 3 minutes, Mr. Hot, Shortman and I decided to give up and head up to bed.  I slept with both phones on the table next to the bed.  No phone calls.

My toes were freakin’ cold in the morning.  Even with socks on and between flannel sheets and two blankets.  When I got downstairs, Mr. Hot said “Eleven o’clock.”  It was 7:30.   Eleven o’clock came.  And went.  Another phone call to DTE.  “Between now and 2 o’clock.” 

Shortman woke up about 11:30.  Mr. Hot yelled up at him,“Get dressed, we’re going someplace.”  And so we did.  Brunch (ahhhhh, coffee, finally!).  Met a neighbor eating in the same diner (She had been told 4 o’clock.  Sigh.).  Then to see “I Am Legend” with Will Smith.  Once again, I walked how of a theatre with swollen eyes.  Why does the dog have to die?  

We got home about 2:30 and lo - there was light.  And heat.  And it was good.

And yet?  No internet.  No cable television.   More phone calls - this time to Comcant.  (No, that was soooo not a typo.)   Yes, the outage was reported.  No, they didn’t know how long it would take to get it back on.

Five hours later, I called them back.  “About an hour or so.  They’re working in your neighborhood even as we speak.”  My neighborhood?  Have I mentioned we live in nowhere-land?  I didn’t know I had a neighborhood.

Once again, I called it a night and went up to bed, with my book.

Finally, this morning, we’re back up and running.  Everything electric.  Everything cable-y.  And we’re leaving in about an hour to head up to our local dump-turned-ski-hill so that Shortman can snowboard and Mr. Hot and I can curl up in chairs in the lounge and drink coffee and read.

I just wanted to check in and tell y’all that I miss you and will be getting to your sweet emails soon - later this evening when we get back.   I did pull a bunch of old pictures to get scanned in for your amusement (I swear, even Shortman said “Mom, what’s with the glasses that cover your whole face?”).  Oh, and Santa brought me this.  I love it.  It’s much easier to use than I ever dreamed.

—- Okay, now I must go get dressed.  We’re on a tight timeline.  Out of here by 10:30, back by 5.  There must be a football game on.  Later babes! —-

May this season and the New Year bring health, happiness and prosperity to all of you. Peace on earth, goodwill towards men.

Ree

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JYrOMK1aDA&rel=1]

Hark how the bells,
sweet silver bells,
all seem to say,
throw cares away

Christmas is here,
bringing good cheer,
to young and old,
meek and the bold,

Oh how they pound,
raising the sound,
o’er hill and dale,
telling their tale,

Gaily they ring
while people sing
songs of good cheer,
Christmas is here,

Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas,
Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas,
On on they send ,
on without end,
their joyful tone to every home
Dong Ding dong ding, dong Bong

And Shortman as a 10-year-old. 2001.

—- It melts my Hotfessional heart to remember my boy so young. Dear Santa, I’d like a time machine. For one day. —-

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E5WqegfuyE&rel=1]

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Ev’rywhere you go;
Take a look in the five and ten glistening once again
With candy canes and silver lanes aglow.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Toys in ev’ry store
But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be
On your own front door.A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots
Is the wish of Barney and Ben;
Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk
Is the hope of Janice and Jen;
And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Ev’rywhere you go;
There’s a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well,
The sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas;
Soon the bells will start,
And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart.

Another shot from the past. Shortman, 2002.

—- He was 11. And still letting me cut his hair. —-

…of finding 9 Christmas-themed gift bags at Dollar Tree tomorrow so I don’t have to try to wrap my staff’s cookie jars and oversized coffee cups (while kicking myself for not buying them easily wrapped square things)?

…of remembering to watch the other (and much more famous) Ree when she’s on CNN “News to Me” at 12:30 and 5:30 Eastern time tomorrow?

… of getting my house cleaned and keeping it clean until sometime AFTER MomandDad arrive on Monday afternoon to give Shortman his Christmas gifts?

…of being able to rent Elf at Blockbuster tomorrow since, for some inexplicable reason, Comcast is not broadcasting it commercial-free? Not even on On-Demand.

…of finishing this entire bottle of wine?

I’m thinking the last one is the only one that has a snowball’s chance in hell.