So, y’all? You can now choose to use your Wordpress or Typepad or LiveJournal or whatever ID to comment on Blogger posts.

I’d like to think that me leaving made them realize the folly of their original actions. Snirk. Well, it’s what I’d like to think anyway.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6Vze7ZlLH8&rel=0&color1=0×2b405b&color2=0×6b8ab6&border=1]

This is a question for Moms everywhere.  Does your husband/significant other/baby daddy think that you are constantly standing up for your kid at his expense?  Mr. Hot swears that I contradict anything he says that can be construed as criticism against Shortman.

Case in point:

Short backstory-> Mr. Hot spent 20 minutes reading to me from the “Tim Tebow Facts“ website.  (Tim Tebow is a shoe-in for the Heismann Trophy.)  Things like “Superman wears Tim Tebow pajamas.”   

Mr. Hot:  “I told Shortman about the Tim Tebow website.  Y’know, the one where Tim Tebow walks into Burger King and asks for a Big Mac.  And he gets one!  He didn’t get it.”
The Hotfessional:  “Yea, it took me a minute to get that one too.”
Mr. Hot:  “See, there you go again.  Taking up for him.”
The Hotfessional:  “……….huh?”

Y’all?  puh-lee-z.  I do not take up for Shortman, and I didn’t consider that a criticism.  It was a simple statement of fact.  I really didn’t get it at first.  But in the Hotfessional household, I have this “rep” as the “protector of the Shortman”.  Not at all warranted.  I am fair to both parties.  If Shortman criticizes Mr. Hot, I point out Mr. Hot’s view.  If Mr. Hot criticizes Shortman, I give Shortman’s point of view, as I see it.  The problem is that Shortman doesn’t criticize Mr. Hot in front of anyone but me.  So Mr. Hot doesn’t hear me stick up for him.  And I can’t tell Mr. Hot about what Shortman says because I feel disloyal.  (Confused?  Well, think of me living in the middle of it.  Thanks, I accept your sympathetic winces and hugs.  Wine is gratefully accepted.)

Anyway, Moms?  Moms of teenagers especially?  Moms of teenage boys especially-especially?

---

Now on to our regularly scheduled programming.I don’t watch network television very often.  Y’know, the whole “house full of fuckin’ testosterone and sports thing”?  But I really love ”Pushing Daisies”.   Do any of you watch it?  How about Kristin Chenoweth’s rack?  Almost as good as Sarcastic Mom’s.  And Swoosie Kurtz playing Lily Charles?  First I have to love her because her character loves cheese.  Second?  She’s sixty-freakin’-three.  Now, I truly believe that she’s had “work done”, but still.  She’s gorgeous.   Someone tell me I’m not the only one that watches this program. 

---

Now, someone tell me why Mr. Hot gives me the laptop and says, “Here, I’m going to switch between the Red Wings and the football game.” and then doesn’t.stop.freakin’.talking.  And! he expect me to freaking.listen.  And asks me things like, “What do you think the temperature is in Houston tonight?”  Ack. 

---

Almost all of the Christmas presents have been delivered.  I had some delivered to my admin’s house.  She didn’t call me to tell me that they had arrived, although the tracking website says they were “delivered.”  Should I worry?

---

 I am taking Monday off as a vacation day.  I figured out that I had 4.5 vacation days left to take this year.  Silly me, I counted 1/2 day 12/24, then 12/25, 26, 27, and 28 as the remaining 4 days.  Duh, dumbshit.  You don’t have to take a vacation day on the 25th.  So, I’m taking Monday off.  Yay me.  At least I didn’t figure it out on the 25th.  There is a brain cell or two left.  So, a couple of last things for Shortman, and gifts for my staff.  Wrapping. 

---

I know most of my readers (well, those 12 of you that actually comment) are females, except for Larry, my new and many are Moms (like that circle back to the first topic in all this randomness?) - and you may not be in a testosterone-laden household (me and the girl cat?  only ones without penises) but can you believe all of the steroid news from Major League Baseball?  (Okay, so yes, 90% of the time my television is on, it’s sports related.)

---

I would have used bullets for this post, but bullets and blockquotes and WYSIWYG editors are not always friendly.  So pretend there are bullets there.

---

The cat has now decided to remove (on a daily basis) the Richard Hamilton bobble-head Christmas tree ornament. It’s so heavy that it has to hang at the bottom of the tree. We got it at a Detroit Pistons game a few years ago. She can’t carry it away, though, so every morning I put it back on the tree. It’s our special little game.

---

—- I really am interested in your view on the first subject in this post. Dads? Moms? Is it a “parent of the opposite sex” thing? Is it because Shortman is an only child? I love my husband, and believe me, he isn’t mean about it; it’s become a running joke, but obviously, since I’m posting about it I wonder. What about you as a child? Did you feel there was one parent that was more “you” than the other? Did you inherently know this at a young(ish?) age? —-

After the NaBloPoMo-Fiasco of a meme every.other.day. for key-rysts sake, I promised no memes in December. Well, guess what? This isn’t a meme you can do any other month besides December, and today was taken up with meetings. The only exciting thing that happened was ordering an “appreciation lunch” (which, in corporate speak is ‘We must be “p.c.” and not say Christmas lunch, or Holiday lunch, because it’s not everyone’s holiday) for 20 people from Olive Garden.

Well, I didn’t actually do the ordering. I picked the menu. (The Power, it may go right to my head!) Well, dammit, okay, so I picked the desserts. Geez y’all. I do get to be the boss sometimes.

Like Here! So when I promised “No Memes for the month of December?” I lied. Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t think that I could become so boring again, so quickly. But I did. So here it is. Courtesy of Marianne.

Christmas Memememememe

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper, definitely, with lots and lots of hand-tied bows. And coordinating tags. Except maybe basketballs. And cars. (Mr. Hot? That Jaguar? You wouldn’t even have to put a bow on it. Just park it in the garage.)

2. Real tree or artificial? Artificial. Duh.

3. When do you put up the tree? Usually the second weekend in December.

4. When do you take the tree down? As soon as I get tired of looking at it. Generally, though, I wait until AFTER the holiday, but it’s been close a couple of years.

5. Do you like eggnog? Gag. I think I did one time. But I think it was an eggnog milkshake with brandy in it. Every other time afterwards? Gag.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? Damned good question. Is it worse than sad that I can’t remember? That nothing really sticks out? My mother used to see if she could make me cry with certain presents. Like the year I was certain I was getting a horse. All of the hints pointed in that direction. I heard whispering about it. I was so excited, I was nearly peeing my pants Christmas morning. What did I get? A horse-shaped candle. They did that to see if I would cry. (I didn’t. I just got pissed. And yes, I did, at one point I did own a horse, but I did not get her that year. Or for Christmas.)

7. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes. Belonged to my grandmother. Brings back wonderful memories of my uncles dressing up like Santa and Midnight Masses and traditional Polish Christmas Eves. I probably shouldn’t display it where the cat can get to Mary.

8. Hardest person to buy for? Mr. Hot. And his freakin’ birthday is New Year’s Day. The pressure is tremendous.

9. Easiest person to buy for? Me. I like everything and anything to do with presents. I’m a gift whore. (Which is probably why I can’t remember my favorite Christmas present.)

10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Well, there was that plastic dolly tea-set from my Dad’s mother when I was 12.

11. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail. With handwritten notes. (Seriously y’all. I’m still old school there.)

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? A Christmas Carol. With Alastair Sim. Black & White version. 1938. There is no other Scrooge as far as I’m concerned.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Hopefully in time for UPS to deliver. Generally I don’t have to pay for overnight shipping. Let’s not go there, eh?

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? No. Uh-uh. See #9.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Anything that comes from a mail-order place. Hickory Farms is a good start. Harry & David’s is even better. Wine Country Gift Baskets? Excellent. Oh, and pierogis and czernina.

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? This year? Multi-colored. Non-flashing. If I can manage to break them all though, I may change next year.

17. Favorite Christmas song? Carol of the Bells. And here’s a rockin’ version:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ElLtgZXX30&rel=1]

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Definitely a staying home person. With the Practice Husband we traveled every year, and I couldn’t stand it. I’m really glad Mr. Hot is a veg like me.

19. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer’s? Oh yes. But only if I sing, and you don’t want that.

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Santa Claus. But he’s holding a light that is supposed to look like a star.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? 1 on Christmas Eve. The rest on Christmas morning. Those are The.Rules.

22. What’s the most annoying thing this time of the year? The fact that it’s in the winter in the northern hemisphere, and I live in Michigan? So it’s fuckin’ cold. I want to have Christmas in Australia one of these years.

23. What I love most about Christmas? The look on Shortman’s face, even at 16, when he sees the presents under the tree. THAT never gets old.

—- There’s no way I’m looking for coordinating gift tags for a meme, so if you’d like this present, feel free to take it. And this time, I mean it. No more memes until next year. —-

There are few things in this world that immediately (and if there was a way to quantify ‘faster than immediately’ - like instantaneously? immediately -.0001 seconds? speed of light-edly?) causes me to grit my teeth and want to strangle someone, it’s being called on my crackberry, while sitting next to my desk phone during business hours by a salesperson. I will not only grit my teeth, I will, more than likely, hang up on them. Because, y’know? Crackberry. Phone. Business Hours. Desk. Fucking Salesperson.

I mark their name down on my little cheat sheet of hatred and vow to never, ever do business with them or their company. If I have no choice (like, it’s the only option or my bosses tell me I have to or die) then I will, but the teeth stay gritted and I ask them venomously politely to send me the information in an email. “Oh, and by the way, please call me at 555-666-hate during business hours - I’m nearly always at my desk. If not, I’m in a meeting and won’t be able to talk anyway.”

Then I hang up and bitch at the phone for a few minutes. And gesticulate using a certain finger that is between the one I use to point and the one sporting my ring.

Today, though, I actually managed to act civil when it happened. (Act being the operative word there. I must be growing up. Momanddad would be so proud!)

You’re asking yourselves, “But Hot, why would today be any different?” And I say to you, “Because I need this asshat.” He’s my new Find Me Big Money Keep Me Out of the Unemployment Line Executive Recruiter. (See, get the resume finished and then feel like you have to show.it.off. To people and shit.)

Anyway, I got an email from him first. First! (Such a tease. Made me think that he knew what he was doing.) So, I responded. Sent him that resume. Told him I’d like to speak with him, on THURSDAY. (Y’all? Is today Thursday? Um, no. Didn’t think so. Thanks.) I even gave him a time. “Is 11 o’clock okay? I’ll block off my calendar.”

Not thirty minutes later, my crackberry starts ringing. I see the area code. We have an office in that area code. Maybe someone needs something and doesn’t have my desk #.

“The Hotfessional speaking”.

“Hot, this is Mr. Recruiter. I received your response to my email and wanted to give you a call.”

At this point, I’m getting NPR on my fillings they’re rubbing together so hard.

“Please call me back on my desk phone. The number is 555-666-hate. Thanks.” Click.

He does. And we have a very nice conversation. And make plans to talk on Thursday @ 11. And he offers to send me some information (not about a job, because he doesn’t have one, he’s just making contact) to my home email. Because he’s smart that way. And shall he call me at my desk on Thursday?

“That would be perfect Mr. Recruiter.”

(Hey, maybe he’s not an asshat. Or at least he’s young and trainable. )

---

—- Heard from the living room last night. “Hey, the cat is carrying Baby Jesus’s mother around in her mouth.” —-

I’ve been a tad distracted recently, so I have a couple of things that I must remember to post. First, the tree.

It was still standing this morning although I didn’t have time to check before I left to see how many ornaments were strewn about the living room.  I can tell you though, that there’s a missing lamb and Mary keeps getting carried off by a certain set of “Kitteh Paws”.

---

I must thank my Secret Blogger Santa.  She (Well, I’m assuming that she’s a she.  hmmm.  Laurel?  RA?  I don’t remember seeing that particular spreadsheet graph.  Get on that, eh?) sent me a couple of really cute pairs of earrings.  This is the pair I’m wearing today.

(Yes, I took it with my camera phone.  I’ve never claimed my photography skills were beyond ‘basic suck’.) Aren’t they darling?  The other pair are gray circles - a bit bigger and very versatile.  Thanks so much to my SBS. 

---

I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what to get Mr. Hot for Christmas. I was going to get him a subscription to The Economist. Then he started talking about getting one. Then he decided he didn’t want to because he wanted to join the NHRA (National Hot Road Assocation - drag racin’). Then I started looking for his Amazon.com wish list. His name is as common as “John Smith” and he must not have entered his state, or email address. So, I’m on the 3rd page of plain old “John Smith”s. Trying to decipher from the goods on the list whether it’s his list or not.I’m guessing that the one listing “The Masters of Russian Animation” is probably not his.  Ditto for the one with every “Justice League” dvd ever made.  Or the one with “How To Survive a Robot Uprising: Tips on Defending Yourself Against the Coming Rebellion“.

It’s not easy buying stuff for the man who has everything.  Or is willing to wait “until it goes on sale.”  Or wants to pick stuff out for himself.  I’ve gotten him gift certificates before.  I’ve gotten him clothing.   I’ve even given him video games.   So, I’m picking a couple of books I hope he likes (If you are ever looking for me when I don’t show up here for a few days?  I’m probably buried under the stack of books that has fallen over in my living room.  Or bedroom.  Or office.)  and a sweatshirt.  (He better not be fucking reading this - he swears he doesn’t because he wants me to be free to rant about anything - and I believe him.  But if he decides to snoop around looking for his presents…. well, then, it serves him right.)

---

As it gets closer and closer to the holidays, the office is becoming more and more like a ghost town. I shouldn’t be surprised because we have a production freeze on all technology systems from December 15 - January 15, so most of the development and project management staff save their vacation for those weeks. We have a pot-luck planned for the 19th, but I have no details on who is bringing what yet. And according to the weather reports, it’s going to stay gray all week long. Again. But, the resume was emailed off this morning, and 24 sent me an email thanking me for his birthday check and someone brought in homemade chocolate chip cookies.

—- I’m determined to keep a positive attitude that goes beyond “I’m damned positive I hate this shitty winter weather.” And thank you all for the comments on my new home. I’m thinking about some kind of housewarming contest where I can give a little something to someone for stopping by and bringing friends. Stay tuned. —-

How addicted to blogging am I?
64%How Addicted to Blogging Are You? 

Portland Dating

Seriously y’all. I’ve been agonizing over this move…worrying that no one will follow me over or change their reader.  Wanting to make sure that all of my images are updated and links work and the colors are pretty.  So, y’know, you’ll actually still come over and visit.  Because I love y’all and you’re my only friends that a) aren’t family or b) are employees (you aren’t, are you?)

Then when Heidi had this up on her site, I decided to see how really addicted I am.  Amazingly enough, only 64%.  I think Mr. Hot would disagree, although he does think it’s slightly amusing.  (And since it was his idea, he better fuckin’ grin when he teases me.)

So, I’m here.  And with my own domain name.  Make sure you change your reader to http://hotfessional.com please.  Pretty please with sugar-substitute on top?  (Because I know you’re getting enough sugar with your Christmas cookies and pies and candy canes.  I’m only trying to be helpful here.)

I finished (she said smugly) my resume.  I’m not thrilled with it, but 15 years of my current employer and the two previous employers and education and certification are all included.  A resume is only a cheat sheet after all.  It’s the cover letter that makes you stand out.  And thankfully, since my buddy the HR Director asked for the resume, (and we’ve drunk [lots of] sangria together), I’m not too worried about the ribbons to wrap it up.  Besides, she’ll tell me what to change and how to improve it.  She may even do it herself. 

MomandDad came over and watched the fuckin’-Lions lose today.  In the last.18.seconds.of.the.game.  They’ve gone from 6-2 to 6-7.  I’m seriously considering changing my allegiance to someone like Miami.  Because they suck the damn whole season long.  They don’t get your hopes up and then dash them against the goal posts.  Our “money” player - Jason-freakin’-Hanson missed a 35-yard field goal that would have won the game.  I bet my Morton Andersen (Sparty, ‘83) wouldn’t have missed it and he’s forty-effen’-six.  (Are you wondering how many different variations of fucking I can use in this post?)

Shortman is being typically 16.  I tried (Lordie, lordie, I tried) to not ask “Have you done your homework?” tonight.  I didn’t ask.  Until he came down and asked Mr. Hot a question.  (I handle any computer/technical related homework questions.  Mr. Hot handles Government/History.  We tag-team Literature courses.)  Shortman came down and asked Mr. Hot a government question.  Less than 15 minutes later, Mr. Hot went up to ask Shortman what he wanted for dinner.  I asked Mr. Hot if Shortman was finished with his homework. 

“I don’t know, but he’s playing WoW. I guess he doesn’t understand that Ds don’t get you into college.”

I didn’t respond. But when Shortman came downstairs, I had to (had.to.) ask if he was done with the assignment.  Needless to say, he didn’t respond with a loving “yep”.  It was more like “Yessss Mom.  Geez.”  If I could format those three words so you could understand the.tone.  (THE.FLIPPIN’.TONE.) I would.  But it would make you grit your teeth and bite your tongue and sit on your hands to not want to throw your drink at him.  (But why waste it?).  He doesn’t get Ds, but he does get Bs and Cs - and he’s capable of so much more (he’s done it, so I know he is).  I just hate being the nag.  And figure that he’ll be much like me, sometime he’ll “grow into himself” and be compelled to be the best he can be.  So, for now, as long as he’s a polite, caring young man who will help in any way he can and loves his family, I’ll take the Bs and Cs.  Life could be worse.  (Besides, I won’t have to waste my drink.)

We’re supposed to have .33″ of ice tonight.  Seriously, y’all.  I.C.E.  covering every thing.  And Shortman  (did I mention he’s had his license for 1 month and 23 days?) expects to drive the truck to school?  The truck that has no weight in his ass-end?  Sigh. 

—- I’m going to refill my glass, have my 2nd cigarette of the day (shut.up.I.know.3.per.day.I.told.you.) and finish reading my bloglines.  Thank you so much for clicking over here.  Please don’t forget to change any feeds you have to http://hotfessional.com. I promise I won’t change one bit. —-