My fiance, Candy, tagged me for a meme and although I’m trying to only do one meme/month, this is the first time I’ve seen this one (and it’s 7:12 p.m. on Easter Sunday, and see that title up there? Yep. I’m caving.) . Here are the rules:

1. List three books you’ve always meant to read, but haven’t got around to them

2. Share the two books that changed your life

3. Recommend the one book you’ve been talking about since the very first day you’ve read it

—————–and so here they are——————–

Three books I’ll read someday:

… because isn’t this the world’s longest book or something?

… because somehow I managed to miss having to read this one

and

… because I’ve heard wonderful things about it.

Two books that changed my life:

I found this book stashed in a linen closet when I was 9 or 10. For some reason, I think it was hidden from me. I liberated it from between the sheets and pillowcases, stuffed it under my mattress and read it while I was supposed to be doing my homework or cleaning my room. Since I shared a bedroom with my sister, I couldn’t read it at night - the only light in my room was the one in the ceiling.

I learned what life was like from the view of a girl about my age, but who grew up when my grandmother did. After I finished reading it, I had a new appreciation for my own life and times. Me - a middle-class white girl from Detroit - I could do anything.

and

… like Candy, I know that people either love or hate Stephen King. If you’ve seen this post, you know I own a lot of Stephen King books. This is the only one that I re-read every couple of years. (Note, the television mini-series adaptation? Sucked. Molly Ringwald was so NOT Fran.) The first time I read it, it gave me far more chills than any bloodier or ghostier “horror” story. Classic Good vs. Evil.

The one book I’ve been talking about since the first day I read it?

A story about a tragedy, but told with humor and love. A view from outside with a sweet ending. Maybe this is why I’ve enjoyed reading Dawn’s untitled novel so much.

And I usually don’t tag people, but this time I’m tagging: Dizzy Ms. Lizzy, Amanda, Sangria Lover, and Shania. And YOU! if you want to participate.  EDITED:  And Mr. Lady.  Because she loves me this meme.

—- I love books. There’s nothing better, to me, than sitting outside during the summer, an icy cold drink nearby, feeling the sun on your bare feet, hearing the birds and smelling the heat, with a book in your lap, just waiting to read that first line. —-

All images thanks to Amazon.com

Yesterday, Kelley over at Magneto Bold Too picked (well, she didn’t, her Bunneh did, and how apropos, eh?) my name as part of her Pay It Forward contest. She’s going to review my blog on her site. Y’all? It’s like being asked to sit at the popular girl’s table in the lunchroom! Have you seen those awards on her sidebar? Oh mah holy hell.

It’s my turn now. All you have to do is leave me a comment on this post. Actually, you have to leave me a comment finishing this sentence:

“My absolute favorite part of my body is my {{blank}}.”

And fill in the blank.

Next Saturday, I’ll pick 3 winners (or maybe I’ll have Poopy the Puppy, Daphne the girlcat and Pippin the boycat) pick winners. (Snort. Like I can get the damned cats to do anything.)

You’re probably wondering what I’m going to hand out as prizes - because you may decide that it’s just not worth telling the world that your left boob is your favorite body part. (Although I think your left boob is pretty cute.)

Each of the winners will each get a custom header for their blog. If the winner doesn’t have a blog, or is perfectly happy with their header, or thinks I have zero-freakin’-artistic ability, then we can negotiate a different prize. My feelings won’t be hurt. (Well, they will, but I’ll keep a stiff upper lip and try not to cry too much.)

Candy has a header I made for her. She even proposed after I made it. We’re still trying to figure out the date and I think she’s making me sign a pre-nup, but I know that our love will prevail.

—- So, c’mon. You can do this for me, right? I’ll even risk a finger cramp like Kelley got when she cut up all of those pieces of paper. —-

It’s a record year for snowfall

—- The robins are not happy. And neither am I. —-

Dear Fucking-Head-Of-Building-Security,

Explain to me why you:

1. Watched me bring my son in through the back door (i.e. nearest my office) of the building,
2. Recorded our actions (carrying 3 boxes, 1 bag and 3 wall frames) as we walked back and forth through the security gate (using my badge to record all comings and goings),
3. Had one of your minions watch as we loaded the goods into the back of an old beat-up pickup truck,
4. Sauntered through the cubicle farm outside of my office with your little lackey swinging your keys around while I was buying my son lunch,
5. Sauntered BACK through the same cubicle farm while I was sitting in my office eating lunch,
6. and never said a word.

But!!!

Felt the need to - an hour later - come bursting into my office, stuttering, “Are you the Hotfessional?” When I replied, “Yes”, with my winning smile, you felt the need to interrogate me on “What, exactly, are you removing from XYZ Company’s premises? What was in the boxes that we have you, on tape, taking out of here?”

Oh, you shithead. Do you know what being accused of theft does to me? Especially when I know that you sat there and watched everything and taped it? When all you had to fucking do was get off your be-hind and ask to take a peek in that bag or that box. (Because, y’know, my Ben Wallace bobblehead? May contain company secrets. So, gawd only knows, I would refuse.)

What do you mean you couldn’t figure out what was happening? Couldn’t figure it out? Because we were being so furtive and sneaky? Oh, yea.

The books that my son was complaining were so danged heavy? The ones that were in boxes WITHOUT LIDS that took him a good 5 minutes to walk to the door? Then, don’t forget, he had to put them on the floor, go through the security exit, pick them up, and carry them out to the truck? You couldn’t figure out what was going on?

Oh, and that form that I filled out? That form was signed by XYZ Company’s Operations Manager, the highest-ranking-official-on-site (well, except for me, but I don’t work for XYZ) and given to the Security Office. It was the one your staff told me was the proper form for removal of equipment. So, maybe, AssMunch, you should ask your staff to make sure that they a) have people fill out the correct form and b) tell you that that person that you’re watching on tape who is obviously trying to hide the fact that she’s taking that picture of her kid and some books out has, indeed, filled out the form. And had it signed. And turned it in.

So, now, Mr. Head-of-Building-Security, I feel compelled to notify your Facilities Manager, (y’know, the one that signs your contract?) that even though my staff and I have filled out the forms and completed this divestiture project ON TIME and UNDER BUDGET, we are being, um, harassed while we’re moving.

I know that you would much prefer me to have to carry those boxes around to the front of the building and out to a parking space a football field away (where that ice? heaven knows, may cause a trip and fall incident, but you would be following procedures) so that you can look at the extra toothbrush, toothpaste and tampons I’ve decided to take home now instead of next week.

Thank you for reminding me that I’ve just shredded 15 years of my career and have whittled my rise to the executive level of a global financial institution down into three boxes and an Olive Garden bag.

I wish you all continued success in your own endeavors. Because, gawd only knows, we need more pricks with a tin badge making sure that NO ONE takes a white board marker that doesn’t belong to them!

Bite my ass. Sincerely.

The Hotfessional

—- Y’all? This is a true account of my life today between 11:30 and 1:30 p.m. I’ll be drinking tonight. —-

The packing up of the office is complete. After tomorrow, I have 5 more days of getting up in the morning, leaving the house, and driving my teensy tiny little commute (2.1 miles each way…yes, I know exactly how lucky I am - I bought my house based on that commute). After that, I’ll be getting up and stumbling across the hall. I think it takes me 8 steps. Yes, I’ve counted.

You’ll be hearing my tales of learning how to be a full-time work from home Mom during the craziness that will be Spring Break (which coincides, Oh Mah Holy Hell, with my first week at home) and then during Summer Vacation. Oh, and let’s not forget my retired husband being around all day long and my stepson, 24, moving in with us in six-freakin-weeks.

Sigh.

So, tomorrow, being Good Friday, the schools are out. I have boxes of shit here that need to be carted home. Shortman has, in his young life, helped me pack and move offices four times. When I asked him if he’d come pick up these boxes (they’re already packed at least!) and take them home in his truck, he asked, “Do I get paid”?

Geez.

I wish I would have thought of the line that I read someplace (and I’m so sorry, I’d love to give credit where credit is due, but I just can’t remember). It went something like this: “Paid? No one paid me to push you out of my hoo-ha.” Because I love to completely embarrass my son.

Instead I offered to buy him lunch. In our cafeteria here. Because he loves their chicken Caesar salad wrap. He drives a damn hard bargain.

I share with you now some pictures (taken with my cell phone, sorry) of the havoc I’ve managed to wreak this week. (If you click the picture, the Bossy-inspired text is more readable.)

The credenza. My Ben Wallace bobblehead really does have a face - although after he left the Pistons for Chicago, I would have gladly rubbed it off.

Yes, I have a coffee maker in my office. What of it? So it’s against all regulations…I need mah coffee.

All of my books are in this pile. And bags of stuff.

—- Another reason to be glad school is closed tomorrow? No chemistry homework tonight. Y’all? High school chemistry is going to be the death of me. Ionic compounds and their molecular binding properties is NOT something my brain cells retained from (sob) 28 years ago. —-