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. —-

Y’all know that I’m one lucky lady, right? Not in the Super Lotto way. Not in the “Take me to Vegas baby and I’ll make you a millionaire” way. Not even in the “Whew, I just missed tripping over that crack in the sidewalk.” way.

But I’m lucky because I have a wonderful, healthy family, great friends (you, and you, and you! Ooooooh, and especially you!), a solid roof over my head and some extra money in the bank. I can spend time on the internet or reading or sleeping without worrying where my next meal is coming from.

I don’t need to make trips back and forth from the hospital to see my parent, or my sibling, or oh mah holy hell, my spouse or my child.

And even though my career situations sucks right at this minute, it’s not like I’m out on the street. I have a lot of contacts who would vouch for my employability - in fact, they’ve offered to tell people I’m great (even after this!).

Not all of my friends are so lucky though. And it hurts my heart and soul that really fucking terrible things happen to wonderful people. People who I wished lived on my street, in my hometown, hell…in my state. If for no other reason than a hug works wonders. Sometimes it helps heal the pain a little bit - even when the SuperLotto hasn’t come through or money (or lack thereof) isn’t the cause of the pain.

Bloggers have this wonderful ability to join forces - become a community - lift spirits and create a hug that stretches across the world. Their creativity means that there are ways that every single one of us can help.

Can’t afford to contribute? How about simply passing along the message. Who knows? Maybe The Donald reads your blog and will find a soft spot in his heart. Maybe that lurker is actually a famous surgeon who recognizes that set of symptoms and can put a mom’s fears to rest.

Maybe this reader who knows that person knows another - and a chain is forged that links the one in need with the one who has the means. Whatever those means are.

Maybe, all you can do is send an email or make a comment. And tears of shame become tears of joy - because they’re not alone.

All of that being said, please go check out these posts. It doesn’t cost a thing to link to these pages if you have a blog. And who knows? Maybe someone you don’t even know will change a life.

Lotus HoF’oSho - You know Lotus. She’s SarcasticMom - and one of the funniest ladies I know. She needs your help because of an asshat of a landlord. Bastard.

And then, there’s

Liz at House of h - her story made me cry. And I haven’t been to a baby shower in far too long.

And then there’s Kristabella - my Chicablo-gger drinking buddy. She’s heading out to walk 5 miles for the American Cancer Society. And she asked me to design a button. So, you know I’m pimping her cause. Because maybe dooce will see my button and think “Whoa, I need to have Hotfessional design my next header because she is one.hot.button.maker.”

—- Love from me to you! Signed, The Lucky Hotfessional. —-

**Updated:  He’s fine.  It’s not so much the headlight as the turn signal.  The guy was apparently turning left (coming from the west) into the northbound lane.  Shortman was turning right into the northbound lane.  There’s a left-turn signal there, and the guy must have come through as it turned red and Shortman had the green.  Shortman was lucky because he was stopped, so hadn’t had much time to get any speed up.

It’s probably, as some of you have said, a good thing because it was a first accident that didn’t have bad ramifications (i.e. injuries, bad damage) - and it will make Shortman more aware of his surroundings and the other idiots on the road.

Believe me,  he’s a beginning driver in all of his glory.  He doesn’t have the experience to know that people turn left after traffic is clear, even if the light is red.  He knows now.  (grin)

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Someone ran a red light this morning and hit Shortman (who was driving the tank of a 1995 pickup thank the lawd). The asshole didn’t stop. So far, all I know is what Mr. Hot told me when he called this morning, because Shortman isn’t home from school yet, but it all boils down to:

“He’s not hurt”

and

“A broken headlight”

Of course it kills me that when Shortman called his Dad, he was crying. Because, Oh Mah Holy Hell people, he’s only been driving alone since October 17th. And it’s the first time he’s been in an accident. And it wasn’t his fault and the Fuckhead who hit him took off and didn’t even stop to see if my baby boy was okay. And I wasn’t there to comfort him myself.

He couldn’t get the plate number before the Fuckhead ran.

Seeing as I got rear-ended last week by some flippin’ idiot myself, who had NO insurance, (yes, comments were heavily skewed to “Hot, you should have called the police.”) I feel quite qualified to say this:

Damn it people! Get off the phones, open your eyes and pay attention to what you’re doing or stay the hell away from me and my family while you’re behind the wheel of a 2000 pound weapon. If you don’t, I reserve the right to grab you by the hair/collar/nostrils, throw you to the fucking ground, and shove my boot up your ass so far that the pointy toes on my boot will be poking out of your nose.

—- Now while I try to calm down some more, take a look at this face and tell me you wouldn’t get your boots dirty if he was yours. And…sigh…yes, I used up my quota again. —-

How much money do you think I could make by being a helpful technical support person?

I mean, yesterday I explained to a coworker that in order to find a date formatted field in an Excel spreadsheet, you had to change the search option from “search formulas” to “search values”. See, Excel doesn’t see the field that has “Apr-2008″ as having “Apr” in it. It sees it has having “4/27/2008″ or “39565″. I learned that back in the beginning days of Lotus 1-2-3 and once a spreadsheet geek, always a spreadsheet geek.

I also had to call our helpdesk today when I finally (finally, after two fucking days) figured out why I couldn’t access our salary administration program this year. See, this program only opens once every year, during January. It closes during February. Other than that? It doesn’t exist. After two days of back-and-forth emails (because Oh mah holy hell, we can’t answer those questions over the phone) with no resolution, during the ’shaving the legs’ phase of my shower this morning, it dawned on me. I’m using IE 7.0. I bet it only works on 6 since that’s the standard. So, this morning, I got a laptop that has 6.0 installed and voila-dee-da-dah! Access. (Yes, I called the helpdesk, cancelled my trouble ticket, and told them to add that answer to their knowledgebase. Because, I’m nice that way.)

Anyway, y’all? Remember this? The video card issue? Yesterday, I got in touch with Dell Technical Support. Here is the transcript of the online chat I had. I tried to just copy part of it, but it’s too priceless not to include the whole thing (pay special attention to the bolded lines):

Now, I never got the link that he mentioned, and the resolution expert that was supposed to call me at 5 pm? Never called. Someone (who couldn’t help me) called my work cell (which was NOT one of the numbers I gave in the transcript) at 6:15 and told me that the resolution expert was not going to call me at 5.

Serious-fuckin-ly?

He’s going to call me today at 6 pm. On the correct phone number. And is going to remote access my computer so he can see what is happening on my screen. (Yea, good luck with that buddy.) And if they determine that it’s the graphics card, they’ll send one right out.

“But do not to worry ma’am. You have warranty coverage.”

—- Shit. Where have I heard that before? —-

* Honestly, y’all. Word for word transcript. The only thing I changed was the phone numbers, the names, and Dork’s i.d. number.

Argh. Y’know, how you KNOW it’s going to be one of those days? One of those days when you have grand plans that you know are destined to not work out?

Okay, that’s today.

First, the video card in my Dell (aka Shortman’s computer) apparently decided to die. We know the computer is booting up, because we can hear the dings and dongs and pretty little tunes that we hear when it boots up. But no monitor. We have a standby monitor. It doesn’t work either. We have a standby computer. The good monitor combined with the old computer. Success? But that means that I’ve spent a good portion of the afternoon swapping equipment. With my ass up in the air while I’m crawling under the desk.

Mr. Hot did give me a line to use today, though, after that little episode. “HotTechnical”. Snirk. He does come up with some good ones.

So, anyway, since Shortman is downloading his patches to WoW, my connection is butt-slow. And slow is sucky. Sorry, Veronica. I know you’re on a dial-up. That’s even suckier sucky.

————————————-

(for some reason, this template hates horizontal rules. I’m stuck with dashed lines.)

Mr. Hot is trying to find a replacement bracket for our front-load washing machine. Before we moved here, we had the washer/dryer stacked. Which entails taking the lid off of the washer, and screwing the dryer on top.When we moved here, we had to get rid of the gas dryer, because, y’know, no gas line. The sellers left us a relatively new electric dryer, so it all worked out. But somehow, in the move, we lost the bracket to attach the lid back on the washer. So, it’s been duct-taped to the washer.

He’s googling the part from Sears to order. He needs a bracket and the screws. The bracket (which is a piece of metal, with a little ledge on it, and three screw holes) is $9. Reasonable, I guess. I mean, it’s a machined part.

The screws? Are $2.91. EACH. Got that? EACH. Those screws better give me multiple orgasms for Sears to charge two-dollars-and-ninety-one-cents apiece.

I guess we’ll just stay with the duct tape.

———————————-

I did manage to get a workout in today. I’ve really slacked off the past few months. I go good for a couple of weeks, and then, I just get bored. So, I’ve re-committed to making sure I work out at least 5 days a week.

So, yay. Score one for me.

———————————-

I’m going to spend a bunch of time today going through the sites I got for the first Hotlight - Hot Crossed Crafts. I’ve been poking around on a couple of the sites - and you all are in for a treat. Guard the credit cards.

———————————-

And the contest? My cohorts in crime and I are working on ironing out some of the details. So pay attention to this space, as they say. We’re getting there.

———————————-

I also have to thank you all for the comments on yesterday’s post. If I had only known how much this community of bloggers would reach out with shared experiences and understanding - I would have joined you way earlier than last May.

Like maybe when Child Protective Services showed up at my door because 20 fell on a rug and split her lip? And the Ex-Mrs. Hot decided that we needed to be investigated because she was sure that 20 had been pushed rather than tripped.

(True story. Shortman was 3 months old and I was petrified they would take him away from me.) Oh, I could have used you all then.

So thank you. I have no idea what the next few months will bring, but I’m trying so hard to stay positive while preparing myself for the possibility that something will go wrong.

—- And now, I’m going to cheer for Cupcake’s boyfriend and look at craft sites for you all. Oh, and drink vodka. Because I have tomorrow off work. —-

Hi! Are you all hangover free this morning? Amazingly enough, I am. Probably because the champagne from the night before did my ass in. So I behaved myself - and it’s a damned good thing because this is what we woke up to this morning:

The Front Yard

The Back Yard

And Shortman woke up in one of those wonderful teenage boy moods - sulky and pissy and I’m just trying not to march up the stairs and slap the immortal crap outta him.

And my mother just called to wish Mr. Hot a Happy Birthday - and he hates people making a big deal out of his birthday - in fact, we try not to talk about it too much (or at fuckin-all) - and I had to lie and tell her he was in the shower and that she shouldn’t call back to sing to him - that I’d have him call her, and blah blah blah.

And OMG y’all, did I just start out 2008 on the most negative note possible????

—- Okay, we’ll try this again after I get back from shoveling the suck-ass snow off the driveway. Later taters. —-