Not sure if it's ironic or just plain stupid

Mr. L loves Dairy Queen, especially the French Silk Dream Pie Blizzard. He probably makes a trip to DQ three to four times a week and as such, has become royalty at our local DQ.

Since L is now single-handedly keeping that store in business, the owner decided he would give L some sort of gift to thank him for his business. His choice? A pocketknife with DQ emblazoned on the side. While at first this may not seem of any significance, allow me to direct you to this article: Dairy Queen Workes Robbed at Knifepoint.

CHARLOTTE -- There was a line of customers out the door at the store on Prosperity Church Road when the robbery happened.

The two men robbed the workers inside at knifepoint as they served dozens of customers.

Police say the two men came in through a back door that was unlocked.

Several families were at the Dairy Queen hoping to get cool relief after a hot summer day.

And yes, that is the same store.

Doesn't this man know how dangerous my husband is with knives?!

Dear...

Dick-Wad ER Nurse in Dover, DE who told me the miscarriage was my fault:

Blow me.

Hugs and kisses,

greeneyes

It's getting dusty in here

My apologies for the long hiatus (you know, to the three people who actually read this), it's been a stressful few weeks. Allow me to give you a quick run down:

1. Quit Mega-Stressful Job from Hell™
2. Started new, less stressful job
3. Found out I was pregnant (despite being on birth control)
4. Had miscarriage
5. Parents come to town
6. Thanksgiving
7. Some how made it through Thanksgiving without strangling my mom (henceforth known as Da Momma)
8. Found out I was pregnant, again
9. Decide that husband has ultra-strong swimmers
10. Second miscarriage
11. Twenty-second birthday
12. Christmas

I have many things to blog about so keep an eye out for many entries to come!

From...

Me and Mine to You and Yours:

A very merry Christmas, peace on earth, happy holidays, and all that jazz.

greeneyes

ps: And if you are wondering why there is no star or angel on our tree... let's just say there was a slight disagreement in Hobby Lobby and we ended up with nothing.

Sweet!

My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?

My blog is priceless!

[Stolen from the ever-lovely Region Broad from for-fucking-ever ago.]

I've been a bad, bad blogger

I've got a pile of rants coming, I promise... I just can't seem to ever catch up with all this bloody work!

Mr. L wants to see a movie tonight, I'm baking cookies with the mum-in-law all day tomorrow, and Sunday is the All Day Laundry Day from Hell™ so it could be a few days until you get your updates.

*hangs head*

Take your shirt off and twist it 'round yo head

Apparently I've been living in Nof' Carolina this whole time and I wasn't even aware!

Mr. L and I met with the recruiter today and turns out her first language was not English but Ebonics... and this woman was a Technical Sergeant. Her assistant, a Senior Airman, was too busy playing on her T-Mobile Sidekick to pay attention to anything else going on.

At one point during the discussing, (after "axing" us many questions) Tsgt Haynes stopped to check her job description online and then still wasn't able to obtain an answer for us.

I guess you could say Mr. L and I aren't that worrried about whether or not he will be a competitive candidate.

Going to the chapel

Per your request, here is the link for my wedding album:

mrsramseur
password: guest

Enjoy!

They told me to tell her that he was wrong

I'm just going to say it: I hate pronouns.

Ok, maybe I don't hate prounouns as a whole, I just hate when they are misused. If you have not already identified the noun, it is NOT ok to use a pronoun. I am inundated with this at work and it drives me up the freaking wall. "She told me to tell you he can't fix that." Who is "she"? Who is "he"? What is "that"?! Must stop twitching... ARGH!!

I think my all-time most-hated misuse is "they." The front office coordinator is constantly telling clients that "they" make the rules and "they" decided on refunds. Who is "they"? "Corporate" is her response. Who at corporate? "Someone." Surely they must have a name or perhaps an extension where I can reach "them."

Make. it. stop.

/rant

I've always had a slight uniform fetish...

Mr. L is thinking of joining the Air Force.

It's almost scary to read that, let alone say it out loud. I have to admit I never thought he was the type who would be interested but apparently even I am wrong from time to time. Of course considering that I was in and then out, both of my parents were in and my mom still is, I suppose it's nothing surprising... but still I am a bit in shock.

More updates as I get them.

In other news, I bought a drop-dead sexy dress for a social event:

Photo courtesy of: www.groupusa.com

Except I don't look as sedated.

A gobble gobble here and a gobble gobble there...

Happy Thanksgiving! Today I give thanks for the beautiful man in the picture below:

Overheard

Her: We're not getting ice cream truffles if my parents can't have english muffins.

Him: Fine. Your parents are only here for one weekend but those sons a bitches will always be there.

Cosmo Girl

After having waaay too many cocktails and sufficiently becoming drunk off my ass, my husband would not leave the restaurant until he received his free dessert.

That is until I threatened to puke in his car... then you've never seen a man exit a building quicker.

Be ye not an anonymous commenter

Dear Anonymous Commenter:

Perhaps you are not versed in the ways of the commenting of the blog so allow me to edify you: anonymous comments are tacky and also gives one the air of being testical-less.

Also, when making snarky comments it would be wise to at least try to form grammatically correct sentences... especially considering we're only talking about one here for god's sake. "Less inside jokes"? Child, please. I have been called a grammar whore before, so don't think I won't call you out on errors because oh HELL YES I will, especially if you are being an ass.

Please also allow me to remind you that this is my fucking blog and I'll post whatever I want. If I want to post about the color and consistency of this mornings urine, I damn well will. If you find it "boring," click the back button and move on with life. And if you are too lazy to do that, you can always buy one of these nifty keyboards that has a back button built into it. Problem solved.

The moral of the story is: don't be a goddamned ass.

Hugs and Kisses,

greeneyes

He said, She said

her: what self-respecting WOMAN calls her period Aunt Flow?
her: pre-teen? yes
her: teenager? maaaybe
her: woman? give me a break
him: ?
her: I'm on this pregnancy forum
him: ah...
her: and everyone calls it Aunt Flow
him: just one of those inside joke/cliche things i suppose.
her: I just want to post: GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK ALREADY!!
her: but there is no swearing allowed, lol
him: so i guess you might say that L shot and killed her, huh? :-)
her: LOL
her: well, that has yet to be determined
him: true... but if he did, it'll be awful hard to ditch the murder weapon. :-P

And just so you don't freak out, no, I am not trying to get pregnant.

Apparently I've sprouted hips

So I've finally caved and have begun to clean unpack my house. Whilst unpacking, I came across a box of things I had purchased and for one reason or another didn't work out. I had always planned on auctioning said items on eBay but had just never gotten around to it.

In the box were a pair of breeches I purchased in July 2004 online that ended up being the wrong waist cut for me. You see, I used to be straight as a board with no hips whatsoever. Riding apparel companies try to make people like that feel better by labeling breeches with no hips "modest cut." People with normal hips were "regular cut" and people with hips were "hourglass cut." Somehow I had received a pair of "hourglass cut" breeches and when I put them on, my nonexistant hips swam in fabric. Obviously this was not the look I was going for. God only knows why I didn't return them considering the price, but I threw them in the eBay box to be auctioned.

I'm not sure what possessed me, but I threw those bad boys on today and they fit like a glove. I stood in front of my mirror in total disbelief and asked, "Where the hell did those come from?!"

Eventually, there will be updates...

...but not quite yet. The past week has been filled with new jobs, flat tires, broken glasses, and negative pregnancy tests, oh my!

Updates soon, I promise! But in the meantime, behold the cuteness that is my dog, Cami. She recently had a birthday and is now a year old.

Mrs. Clean I am not

I have got to get in the cleaning mode. Ok, correction: I have got to get into the unpacking mode. Mr. L and I have lived in the new house for just over a month and I still am only 50% unpacked. You would think with all the time off I had this week I would unpack but noooo, I was lazy instead and watched too much E! True Hollywood Story.

Damn that show, damn it for being so addictive.

I think the problem is that the unpacked boxes are easy to ignore... we've strategically located them to the three rooms we use the least: the den and the two spare bedrooms. What I need to do is start moving them out into the middle of the hallway for me to trip and curse over twenty times.

Hopefully I will get my act together and have everything unpacked before Thanksgiving. Holy god my mom would flip her shit if she saw all of this.

Vacation

I am no longer an employee of SunTrust Banks, Inc and very soon will no longer be a client of theirs, either.

With my new job not starting until next Monday and SunTrust still having to pay me through this week, it is my absolute pleasure to take this time to do nothing but revel in my departure.

Good luck with the strung-out, drug-addicted prostitute you have as a branch manager, SunTrust... you'll need it!

More dealings with the devil

Quick backstory:

I find out today that my boss redirected almost a half million dollars in loan business that I had brought in to not only a different employee but a different branch altogether. You see, I'm covering at a branch which is not my regular branch therefore any business I do out there is attributed to that branch. My boss doctored the loan files to reflect origination from HER branch and HER FSR (Financial Services Rep).

Somehow I mananged to send an e-mail that didn't completely reflect my immense amount of disgust:

Ms. [name removed]:

It has recently come to my attention that the above referenced HELOC that I keyed in and originated was recently transferred from my name and employee number to [employee's name removed] by you.

It has also come to my attention that you have been contacting my client and “apologizing for [greeneyes] dropping the ball” on his loan and informing him that “[greeneyes] has left the bank”.

Allow me to remind you that I most certainly do still work for this bank and in no way, shape, or form have I dropped the ball with this client. In fact, I have been working very hard and diligently on this loan as well as the relationship with this client, a relationship which I have been cultivating for months. It is hardly fair to roguely decide that another employee at a completely different branch should receive credit for the immense amount of hard work I have put forth.

Not only is it unfair, it is unethical as well. Please allow me to remind you that the following is found in the [Bank's name removed] Code of Business Conduct and Ethics, which every employee is given at the time of their hire:

"The books, records, and accounts of [banks' name removed] must accurately and fairly reflect the company's transactions and operations."

I have since corrected your flagrant act and changed the loan to correctly reflect both my name and cost center. Your actions are an example of blatant disregard for ethical and professional behavior and I want to assure you that this is not the last time we will be discussing this subject.

The kicker is, since she didn't bother to show up for work today, it may be awhile before she receives and responds.

/rant

Genius in Disguise

"What day is today?"

"Tuesday, the 25th."

"I mean the whole thing... what month is it?"

"Um, October."

"Is it still 2005?"

"Yes, sir, it is October 25th, 2005."

"Month ten?"

"Are you being serious or just yanking my chain?"

"People like me aren't concerned with dates so we lose track of time easily."

"People like who?"

"Computer programmers."

"Really, I never would have guessed. Kind of explains Y2K, huh?"

Excerpts

This is from a letter I received from a client (it should be noted that said client, when he was declined a loan, wrote on the walls of the bathroom in my branch IN HIS OWN FECES that I was a bitch):

I have TRIED to borrow money. According to my record, the prospective lenders ALL X SAY NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yester day I saw [name removed] XX at [business name removed], at [address removed]. I told her that I was recently ROBBED of OVER $200.00. This money, once I press charges will be RETURNED TO ME. The CULPRET will be VERY MAD AT ME!!!!!!!!! I AM AFRAID HE WILL TRY TO KILL ME!!!! YES INDEED, I AM AFRAID HE WILL TRY TO KILL ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What MUST BE DONE.

Later on he goes on to tell me about how he tries to form relationships with children:

I talk to BOYS (but they do not come back). So, NOW I WILL TRY TO TALK WITH GIRLS. I will now talk with girls. I will talk about what the past 20 years holds for us. The next 1 to 3 years will be the END OF CIVILIXATION (as we perceive it). Pat will tell us OVER THE NEXT little time (the 700 CLUB) will bring us up to date &explain to millions of women (who are listening to him) the rapid realization of what is going to happen to ALL OF US!!!!!!!!!!

But hey, at least I got my own write up on the bathroom wall.

Take your unprofessional bullshit and shove it

I don't understand how in the world of corporate business the incompetent, unprofessional morons seem to flourish. How is it that a grown woman of thirty-two who dresses like a prostitute with her tits hanging out, can't spell to save her life, acts like she's never been taught grammar, and e-mails colleagues shitty-ass e-mails about how they are worthless never gets fired? I mean really, how does upper management see this as a good business practice?

On the other hand, she is a shinging example of what you can get a way with. Just think of what I could aspire to be: an unprofessional bitch who comes in hungover at 11:30 (if she bothers to show up at all), leaves at 2:30, tells clients they are taking up all of her time, treats staff members like they are the lowest of the lowest class, and makes $60,000 a year.

This woman gives women in business a bad name. Quite honestly, I would rather work for all men any day... and I'm a woman! There, I've said it, now let the stoning commence.

/rant

Gangsta Barbie Bitch

Bridget and I met in junior high which proved to be one of the most awkward and confusing times in my life. I had just moved to Indiana from Chicago where I attended a grade school with classes the size of the sum of all students in the junior and senior high school I was now attending. I quickly learned that in a small town, everyone knows everything.

At thirteen you hardly know who you are, let alone who you want to hang out with and be friends. Everyone is trying to fit in and be "cool" and yet no one can define "cool." Bridget wasn't cool or punk or preppy or right or wrong. Bridget was Bridget. She was also one of the few people who talked to the new girl from Chicago - which may or may not have played a part in us being friends. ;-)

As the years passed, we grew up, we grew closer, we grew apart, we made midnight drive-bys at the homes of girls who caused our boyfriends to break up with us and break our hearts, we lived together but most importantly we always had each other. Now that I've moved and married and life seems to be going at warp speed, I sometimes find myself lost in thought over the simpler days. The days of being young and foolish but always having that best friend to pull you through anything.

To the woman who has been through it all and put up with it all, happiest of birthdays, my love. And Fidel Castro so totally wants a piece of your hot ass.

Ten Things I Know...

...about my husband:

1. He is one of the most generous, caring people I know
2. But that doesn't mean he can't annoy the hell out of me
3. It doesn't matter what you are talking about, he will always be distracted by two things: Anything Volvo related and cycling
4. His eyes light up like a kid with candy at Christmas if you say the words "blow job" or "shaved pussy"
5. You can trust him with any secret
6. Just not knives
7. He is an excellent cook
8. But my god, the man could out-spice Emeril
9. He likes fire and almost burnt down his house... on our third date
10. He adores the bejesus out of me

Turns out...

...NASCAR is pretty much the same in person as it is on TV, except for the whole drunken, hillbilly factor.

A bunch of cars go around a bunch of times on a track owned by people with a bunch of money. The end.

Oh, and as a little FYI from me to you, if you see a man dressed like a cop standing around with other men dressed as cops, they are not cops. They are lazy assholes off-duty police officers and for god's sake Tony Stewart just took the lead and no, they will not assist you with the drunkard spewing beer everywhere.

/rant

And they're off!

Or do they only say that in horse racing?

Either way, apparently I am to attend my first NASCAR race tonight. I'm not sure I've spent enough time in the sun burning the back of my neck for this but perhaps there could be some enjoyment.

The husband, henceforth known as L, asked me if I owned any earplugs... uh, yes I do, let me pull them out of my ass. Though considering my boss, perhaps they wouldn't be a bad investment.

Details at eleven!

The Toeless Wonder

Note to self - do not let husband play with knives.

Time to go clean up blood, the perfect precursor to dinner.

Whiz-bang

What's better than working nine hours on your feet with no lunch only to leave your one office, drive in thirty minutes of rush hour traffic, arrive at your second office and work another two hours before finally heading to a fast-food restaurant for that healthy delicious meal you've been craving all day?

The asswipe in the gold minivan with no less than eight "Support Our Troops" ribbons/stickers/blatant propoganda who can't merge to save her life let alone drive the speed limit. The fantastic thing about this country is that it's free, so rock on with your bad self and all your adhesive, clingy shit things but for god's sake if you are going to bring so much attention to your car's ass then learn how to drive.

/rant

Wham, bam, thank you ma'am!

What is up with women and the word "ma'am"? Three times today - count them, THREE! - I was told by a woman that it is "disrespectful" (well, technically one of them told me it was "irrespectful" but whatever) to call her ma'am. Disrespectful? When did this happen? I was raised to be a lady and that included the phrases "no, ma'am," "yes, ma'am," "no, sir," and, my father's favorite, "yes, sir." Please excuse my upbringing if I dare be so "irrespectful" in public to you, your highness.

You know, I could call you a cuntrag and then everyone would feel disrespected. Great, now I've used the c-word... there went that lady-like upbringing.

/rant