so anyway....

There's a law firm down the hall.  They've just expanded into office space next door.  They have a lady that was moved from the back to the front, visible as you walk by.  Bless her heart, she has no clue that she's in her 50s.  She wears too much makeup and applies it badly.  Honestly, it looks as though she was ambushed by a clown every morning. 

Hmmmmm...maybe her husband IS a clown, interesting...<shudder>

She's gotten into the habit of wearing hats and caps to work.  Today, she decided on a black LEATHER baseball cap.  Her hair is poofed so much that the cap just lays atop her head.  I haven't seen the back of her head, but I'll bet you (based on past sightings) she has a bunch of her overproccessed hair pushed through the hole in the back.

Her mascara is on so thick...I can only assume she just applies over old applications every morning.  You can see the clumps if you can get close enough to her (perfume fog).  Her rouge is put on as if she were dressing up as Raggedy Ann for Halloween. 

Sadly, it's NOT Halloween.

You know when she looks in the mirror, she sees someone that we don't see.  Kind of like anorexics...they can never be thin enough...

Every morning I see her and every morning I'm amazed.

so anyway...

I rang in the new year with my partner Ron, my brother Frank, his wife Alicia, their daughters Taylor 10 (prom queen of Neiceland), Paige 6 (the able assist of the prom queen, wants to be her, but won't admit it) and Kylie 2 (town nosepicker in Nieceland), my sister Beth and her husband Robert.  I HAD A GREAT TIME!  I really love my family, they rock!! 

It was stressful at times, what with Taylor getting injured, OH MY GOD, she had been trolling all night for a seat at a computer...she snuck up to the workout room (OFF LIMITS, OFF LIMITS, OH MY GOD, OFF LIMITS!!), where my laptop is - sitting on top of a wooden TV tray.  She pulled it closer, I'm thinking, she could sit on the leg extension of the BowFlex and use the computer.  The TV tray collapses and she shoves her hands beneath it to catch it and her right thumb gets caught in the legs...JESUS...I thought she was hanging from the window ledge or something.  It's amazing I made it up the stairs so quickly, especially when you consider I was wearing my Timberland clogs and was on Beer #8...it was all very surreal.  I remember it in slow motion.  We just heard "MOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!" about 5 times, at a decibel range only my dog and cats should have heard.  I reckon when the sound being made is coming from one with your blood running through their veins, your hearing becomes superhuman.  My guess is, she got busted and the majority of her distress was that she was sure she was about to get in trouble.  All I really remember is running quickly to the diningroom, looking down at Paige, on her belly reaching under the dining table towards what I can only assume is Gracie, the cat that consistantly elludes her.  I stop for only a millisecond and realize the sound is coming from above and behind me.  I race up the stairs to the workout room towards my little prom queen niece, my heart going a mile a second.  It's amazing I didn't just pee my pants, I was so scared, but so calm too.  I knew in that moment, how much I truly loved my nieces...I always knew, but adrenaline helps you see the depth of it.

Ya know...I don't even know where anyone else was...where I was or what I was doing at that moment.  Ron found Kylie at the bottom of the stairs (OFF LIMITS!) peering up with a look of horror on her face, arms raised to be picked up and whining "my mommy, my mommy"...bless her heart.  Ron scooped her up and walked with her, talking to her.  If she could hear Taylor crying, which ALL OF US COULD, she cried too.  I don't know how Paige reacted, I seem to recall she showed up afterwards, shyly checking things out as Taylor sat on the sofa downstairs and sobbed with her hand in an ice pack.  You could tell Paige was concerned, on the ready to cry too, if it got uglier.

Kylie is our busy one.   This little kinetic being.  ALWAYS in motion and the words "Kylie NO!" are staples wherever she roams.  As soon as she is challenged, which is always, her finger goes to her nostril, she doesn't have a favorite nostril, so her right finger may end up in her left nostril, or vice versa.  "Kylie get yer finger out of your nose!"  She's really at a loss as to what the whole fuss is about...they fit so nicely there after all!

Paige is the needy one.  Being the middle child she seems to feel surrounded and invisible amongst the throng.  Her cloaking device fails occassionaly when she does something she shouldn't, is revealed as the impossibly misbehaved and clenched teethed words given to her.  I think she feels she gets the raw end of any deal, so she is left to try and scam favors from her Uncle Hank.  I can always tell when she's up to something...she always waits until I'm away from the herd before she pounces.  She slinks over, head lowered, eyes looking past her beautifuly freckled cheeks.

Paige: "Uncle Hank..." she mumbles, barely moving her lips, looking nervously back towards the gaggle of parents,  you know,  the ones she will sneak this past 
"...can I have a drink of Coke?" 

Me: "It's not up to me, ask your mom or dad."   (Right, I'm giving jetfuel to this one...weeeeeeeeee, don't think so)
From Paige's six year old mind  "Muther phugger!  I was this close!! Doh!"

Don't get me wrong...Paige is loved, very much.  Sometimes I think she sees the NOs and the NOT NOWs and it's overwhelming to see it, for a six year old girl.  She can't compete with the older sister who will always be smarter (in her mind) and the younger sister, who will always be "the baby".  She is constantly wanting to be picked up...almost as if she wants to be "the baby".

Things I'm thankful for:  EVERYTHING!

so anyway...

We put the tree up on Thanksgiving day...it's one of those 12 footers...it's awesome!

My pup Dexter isn't allowed near it, so the cats, George and Gracie take refuge under it.  George is so hilarious, he sits under the tree with head amongst the lower branches, assuming we can't see the lower half of his body in plain view.  He cracks me up!

Gracie, once called "Jabba the Grace" because of her portly figure, has lost weight since Dexter moved in.  I can only imagine it's part stress and part excercise - Dexter terrorizes them at every chance he gets.  I imagine them, while we're at work, standing outside his crate, berrating him and telling him he's an idiot and they hate him and "the dads" must hate him as well to leave him in such an ugly wire thingy.  They really shouldn't do that, it only allows him to think of other ways to wildly attack them as they stroll by.  Honest, Dexter's eyes widen and you can see his mind working 90 mph trying to gage when they'll be "in range" and he POUNCES...it's so funny.

Poor George jumped in my lap the other day - his usual beautiful head was drenched in Dexter drool.  You see, Dexter's teething and uses George's ears as chew toys.

No wonder they're shedding more than usual these days...

so anyway...

Good News: Julia Roberts, wonderful, wonderful actress gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl!

Bad News: She named them Hazel and Phinnaeus...I'll think I send a crash helmet to poor little Phinn...

so anyway...

Thanksgiving was nice.  Mom came over and even though she was still a little puny she cooked for us.  Turkey and dressing.  I watched her as I checked my email, played with my new cell phone.  Her hands riddled with age spots, knarled by arthritis, stuffing half of an onion, a couple of stalks of celery, and two strips of bacon.  She was cramming it into the yawning mouth of the turkey breast.  I thought, "How the hell did she ever learn that?"  It looks SO unappetizing that I can't imagine someone thinking to themselves "Hey, why don't I try this!" as a light bulb or candle goes on in their head.  Wierd, but VERY appetizing.

We ate until we passed out, took a nap and ate some more - I love Thanksgivings like that.

Having a holiday potluck, planning began too late, and not many people will show.  My sister and her husband were going to come, but can't.  And I want my brother and his wife there, but she's somehow ill, I think, and they probably won't make it either.  We'll see.

I'm trying something new.  I watched an interview with Jim Carey, he said something that was rather profound (to me anyway)...he said that he stopped taking anti-depressants because he felt it was numbing him to "feeling".  He wanted to feel life, experience all of it.  That's really stuck with me.  I'm not brave enough to go off meds, but I do want to experience it...I want to be present in my life.  Not sitting and watching TV all the time.  I want to be aware of it all.  And appreciate it.  I've trained myself to kind of go away, in my mind.  Anyway, I thought I'd give it a try.

Happy Holidays everybody

so anyway...

I know, I know!  It's been a while, AGAIN.  But, you know...being slightly insane takes up a guy's time!

Our receptionist, Lisa, left - Mary, the HR chick, had 6 weeks to find her replacement, but she didn't...<no comment!>.  SO, she calls Dianne (a friend of a friend) to fill in during the search for the receptionist and her starting date.  Dianne is VERY thin...like way anorexic thin!  I'm thinkin she's a drinker, because she has that drinker's skin (plus she smelled of vodka and Listerine on her first day)...and I'd guess she was a full fledged smoker at one time too.  She's prolly in her early sixties, or looks to be...and wears too much make-up, like scarey too much...you know "I'm ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille" kind of make-up.  She has blond hair and it looks wierd on a wrinkly lady with too much makeup.

I've become her touch stone to technology, of sorts...

...ring...ring

The phone says Lisa, but I know it's Dianne..."the Temp"

me:  This is Hank

Dianne, the Temp:  Hank, this is Dianne (see told ya!).  If Lisa created a document before I came on board...

me:  uh-huh? Oh My God...I think I hate you - I believe you are the reason I take anti-depressants, no shit, I think so...at least at this very moment in time

Dianne, the Temp: ...and she didn't put it in the "shared files"...

me:  yeah?  ...PLINK! - did ya hear that Dianne? That's my piano strings beginning to break

Dianne, the Temp: ...then, I don't have access to it...do I?

I gather my thoughts for a few seconds...I resist the urge to call her a dumb-ass.

me:  When you say "shared files" are you talking about the files you share with Mary (the HR chick)...? Or the real "shared files" that EVERYONE has access to? 

People do that ALL THE TIME...they say "the Shared Files" - there are thirty freakin' folders in the "Shared Files" area, it bugs the piss outta me!  And I knew when she finished her question, which SHARED FILES she was talking about, I just wanted to waste her freakin time like she was wasting mine.

Dianne, the Temp:  The shared files I share with Mary.

me:  uh-huh, well, no...if Lisa did not save the document to the shared files folder, then you won't find it there, that stands to reason, don't ya think?  In my head I'm staring at her blankly, chewing gum loudly, with my eyebrow cocked

Dianne, the Temp:  Yes, but...

me:  If she saved the document in another shared folder, you might find it THERE.  But if she saved it to her PC, you won't have access to it from another computer, like the one you're at now.  (I smile fakely...sometimes you can sense these things over the phone...).

Dianne, the Temp:  Oh OK...

Dianne, the Temp...don't care much for her.  In the couple weeks she's been with us, she's created more stupid work for me than I care to admit.

so anyway...

As you know I've been in a weird place.  Took some time away from here...clearing my head, increasin my meds.

"weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

No really, the new meds are working wonders, I'm feeling like my old self.

And Ron said we could get a puppy.  Doesn't sound like much does it?  But it is to me.  I'm a dog person, I may LOOK like a cat person and I may HAVE cats, but I'm a dog person from way back.  I did a little research on breeds.  And seein as how our lifestyle doesn't take to high maintenance pets, we could choose from either a Bichon Friese, French Bulldogs, or Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.

Bichon Frise, in my mind, are too poodlie, they're all white and just not my kind of dog at all.  In fact I hate them, it may sound too strong of a statement, but I think I do.  They just look like asshole dogs.

French Bulldog...I really like the look of this breed.  Kind of a cross between an English Bulldog and a bat.  So ugly they're cute, ya know?  They remind me of my brother-in-law, K.Don - and I planned on calling ours either "k.d." (for K.Don) or Bug, a nickname my twin brother gave to his oldest daughter and everytime I see a white French Bulldog that name comes to mind.  Now, you need to understand that Bug, my niece Taylor, looks nothing like a French Bulldog, she happens to be the most beautiful 10 year old on the face of the earth.  Hey, she CALLED me the other day to talk to me about my new car, to tell me she liked it - I thought that was so cool.  Well, actually she wanted to know it my mother (Mam as she's called by Bug) was going to Florida to visit K.Don in the hospital - but I digress.

Cavalier King Charles Spaniel...I like this dog.  It has a sporting feel to it, but it's mostly a companion dog.  And as much as I admired the breed and all, I never considered it as a future pet...

UNTIL...

I met Dexter.  I asked Ron if we could go by Pass Pets, a national pet store chain to look at puppies.  I was still tender from Spike's exit and wanted to look at the potential bundles of happy behind the plexi-glass.  They must've gotten a truck load recently, because they had a full house and most of the cages were double booked.  Virtually ALL of them were raising Cain except over in the bottom, last cage, was a Cavalier and a Shitzu - the Shitzu was apparently on speed, hopping around jumping on the Cavalier, but the Cav never fought back.  He just looked at me with those big brown eyes and saying "I really hate you Shitzu dude, leave me alone, I'm workin!"

me: "Can I see the Cavalier?"

pet store girl: "You certainly may!", in her sing-song "I'm gonna make a commission" voice

She brings him out...offers him to me

me: "Awwwwwww, how sweet" as I reach for him, grab him and pull him to me..."Jesus Christ, he stinks!!"  And he DID, how does one get to smell like pee, when they walk on a wire floor and can never possibly lay in pee?  I really wasn't interested in the answer to that question, so I never really asked.  But, WOOOOO, stinky boy!!

pet store girl: "Yeah, it's kind of smelly back there"

me: "Well crap, no wonder they're making such a racket, they're sayin - GET ME FUCK OUTTA HERE, IT STINKS!"

Of course, I was sold, right away.  Sweet calm boy, looks like a long haired beagle.  Just beautiful!  Long story, short - we got him.  I was going to call him ReX after my RX-8, because I'm all about my RX-8 - awesome car, truly!  Got him home and he's turned into the best little guy! 

During our sessions of house training him, I was outside with him in the backyard.  Paul Jacob, the son of the Salvation Army Sergeants next door, Paul and Linda, came out and said "Hey Hank, I heard you gotta new pup, what's his name Dex...Dexter?"

I stopped in my tracks..."NO, but I LIKE THAT!"...so Dexter he became...it's perfect for him.

With Dexter and the NEW MEDS, I'm feelin great.  Some people won't ask for help with depression...I'm telling ya, pharmaceuticals are the way to go.  Oh and cute puppies - <big grin>.

so anyway...since then I've traded my RX-8 in for a "daddy car" - Mazda 3 - still a little sporty and more dog proof.

so anyway...

OH...

MY...

GOD!

I am staring blankly at the screen.  How do I express my utter frustration?? 

I just got off the phone with "technical support" for SBC (Southwestern Bell)...speaking with "Natasha", obviously from India, NO WAIT, obviously IN INDIA!  I'm sure "Natasha" is a very smart woman, she's prolly paid very well for what she does, especially in HER country.

One of my colleagues, a remote sales manager in Fort Worth, TX, relies on my technical assistance, usually with applications or connectivity through our firewall for email and crap.  But his DSL line is down, his SBC line in Texas...(I'M IN TENNESSEE!).
...so anyway!!  Wes (my TX guy) calls this morning...

Wes: "Hank, I'm having trouble connecting through the SonicWALL (our firewall)... won't even prompt me for a userid and password...NUTHIN!"

Me: "ummmm...okay, what's the error message?"

Wes: "Don't get one"

Me: "sooooo...nothing? No error at all??"

Wes: "Well, it says sumthin about cannot detect a connection to the internet"

Me (in my head): "<Marge Simpson growl!> Hello! That IS an error message!"
Me (out loud): "Well, ummmmm, can you connect to anything else?"

Wes: "Nope, notta thang!"

Me (in my head): "Jesus H. Christ!! Why are you calling ME?"
Me (out loud): "Your issue is with your ISP, SBC...!  You can't get through the firewall unless you have access to the internet..."   I said placing my hand on my forehead, surely my head is about to explode...but it's not even warm...uggh!

Wes: "I know..." <silence>

Me (in my head): "Why are you calling ME?!"
Me (out loud): "Gee Wes, I sure wish I could help you, but I can't", I said with a irritated chuckle, that sounded eerily like GWBush's <shudder>.

This went on for another ten minutes...ten minutes I will never get back - at the end the problem was squarely in Wes's lap, where I felt it should be...since I'm in TN and he's in TX - he's closer to the ISP, so he lost the toss!

Five hours later, I get a call...it's Wes.  My heart sank when I heard his voice.  Slowly, I could feel the problem inching its way back onto my lap.  I TRIED to ignore it, it wouldn't stop.  There it was, his problem, sitting in my lap - staring at me like my cat, George.  FEED ME!

So, Wes had spent the morning talking to the Indian folk, you know, the ones trying to pretend they aren't in India at all...doesn't that piss you off??  It does me...oh MAN, does it ever!  Poor Wes, bless his heart!  Motherfucker! 

"Oh but wait Hank!", Wes said.  "I have a number you can call, it's "Tier 2 Technical Support" and...<I can hear the excitement in his voice...> THEY'RE AMERICAN!"

Ya know, I was pretty excited!  Americans!  Americans that prolly know what they're talking about...and I bet ya, they don't pretend to be Indian!!  What a plus...I'LL DO IT!

sooooooooooo anyway!  I call the number, the chick on the other end CAN'T put me through to Tier 2 Technical Support - but she can give me the number to call.  So, I call..."Natasha" and once I informed her I wasn't going to let her script me to death, she put me through to her supervisor, "Kevin".  I'm thinking that the word "alright" (as in "okay"), sounds very similar to "repeat that please" in Hindi, because "Kevin" AND "Natasha" repeated themselves each time I said "alright", so I switched to "okay".

So, I'm thinking, we need to create a website that exposes the companies that use India for outsourcing customer "service" jobs.  It's bad enough to talk to a customer service person when they're in LA and I'm in Nashville, much less New Delhi.  We should activily boycott each company and their services/products.  We should call it www.getoutofindia.com OR www.getthefuckoutofindia.com. 

I'm having a couple of beers tonight!

Things I'm thankful for today:

ALL TIME PET PEEVE!!

so anyway...

One day 'til Friday, THANK YOU GOD!  What a shitty week I've had.  Won't bore you with the details, but I'm seriously concerned about my mental health...truly!

Got Spike's ashes the other day.  It came in this tidy little tin, with black background (appropriate), and floral print (NOT appropriate) - but, the urn is on the way.  I was looking for Spike's papers last night.  I felt a sense of urgency, I wish I could explain, I was almost in a panic - I just couldn't help myself.  I found them, finally...but it was like he died again...I bawled.  I've contacted the lady that I bought Spike from, she's checking to see if any of his bloodline is still around.  I would really love to have a puppy from this bloodline - I hope she finds something.  But if she does, I wonder if Ron'll be open to getting one.  We've talked about it for years, when Spike left, Ron wanted to be dogless, to just have the cats.  But I really wish there were a puppy in the house...little furry piece of happy.  We'll see.

I know there are people that I know that read this blog.  They see a side of me they didn't know before.  They see the gay guy here.  They see some of the person I hid from them for years.  It was "easier" that way.  These are people I respect, who had respect for me.  I sometimes wonder what they think of this - does it change their initial opinion of me.  Of course, there are some that didn't have any respect for me, or for anyone else.  Those are the ones I really don't give a shit about.  Well...wait, I wish it were different, for both of us, it must be hard to go through life so cynical.

so anyway...

Monday...shrink session day...it went well, the shrink chick is good.  I'm apparently under a lot of stress, but ya know, I've had harder times, what's so different about NOW?  Is it that I'm 45?  Is it a mid life thing??  Is it because Spike died?  Is it because I'm in a job that I often hate?  Is it because I'm making 13.5K less than I was at my last job?  Is it because, I'm paying this republican-looking, prim acting Shrink Chick A LOT OF MONEY to spill it once a week to her?  FUUUUUUUUCK!  I just wanna snap out of it! 

Whew...sorry about that...<sniff>.

Geez Louise!

Pet Peeves today

Things I'm thankful for today...OY!