The Return of Ma Smash

21 Nov

Ma Smash has pointed out that she hasn’t had much airtime lately on the old blog, and I have promised her that I will remedy this. In return, I was allowed to stay in her house all weekend long and to help her drink all of the wine she had.

How much wine was that? Well, let’s just say it was twice as much wine as we needed, as evidenced by the fact that we decided to call my sister on speakerphone and tell her, at great length and volume, how drunk we were.

Meg, who had given birth a week before, was not impresses with our behavior. Nor was she impressed with our singing.

Oh well. Can’t please all of the people, all of the time. Come to think of it, perhaps we should have poll: How many of you readers out there in the ether would enjoy having a drunk phone call from me and my mom? Take this poll:

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Who Is Coming to Get Us: A Visual Representation

12 Nov

Memorize this. The life you save may be your own. (I have been watching a lot of terrible TV, obviously.)

Image: Geekologie

I Should Also Mention, While I’m at It…

11 Nov

…that my severance check arrived today and was 300 dollars less than I was expecting, due to a tax issue that none of us were aware of. Two minutes before this, my husband discovered that he wasn’t going to receive any more unemployment.

What does one do, in such embarrassingly trendy despair? Yell at travel agents, apparently and drink a bottle of champagne to toast the end of the world.

The Internet Is for Complaining

10 Nov

I’m on hold with Expedia right now, because their POS website doesn’t work. It wouldn’t let me add my husband’s name to our trip, which I think we can agree is a problem, because TSA tends not to take your word for it when you tell them that you meant to fill out your traveling companion’s name.

Then I got someone on the actual phone to book the trip, and while she was lovely, she clearly could not type. Because when my itinerary arrived, my name was spelled J-E-N-N-E-F-E-R.

Well. I’ve known some Jenifers in my day, and a few Gennifers. I have never, not once, met anyone named “Jennefer.” I don’t even think that name exists. What makes it worse is that she spelled it out, and I swear she spelled it right. Either that, or I was so intent on listening for the two Ns that I didn’t hear the E instead of the I.

Either way, I’m now on hold while a customer service rep is trying to get a hold of the airline so that we can go see my sister and her new baby without TSA agents deciding that we’re spies or something.

I understand that none of this is actually important. But some days it really does feel like all the little shitty things are banding together into a giant shitty thing Voltron in order to take us all down.

The New Uniform

4 Nov

I suddenly realized that there’s absolutely nothing to stop me from dressing entirely in silk kimonos, or giant iridescent caftans with hula girls on them, or Victorian nightgowns. I didn’t really have a dress code at my old office, but now I really don’t. I can get a head start on becoming that awesome old woman I intend to become.

I thought of this because I was looking at all my clothes hanging up in the dressing room, which is what we call the tiny room next to our bedroom because we’re embarrassed to call it the Room Full of Boxes We’re Never Going to Unpack. Anyway, I was in this room, looking at my clothes, and I realized that I have a lot of really beautiful things in really beautiful colors. I have bright pink sweaters and grass-green dresses and a pair of tights with neon stars printed all over them.

Pictured: Awesomeness

I wore these things on my birthday or when it was probably going to be a particularly rough day at the salt mines. The rest of the time, I wore ten-dollar pants and old t-shirts and sometimes a cute, professional-ish dress or two.

I’ve spent the past two weeks hanging around the house in yoga pants, and I love them, but I think I might need to break out some of these fun clothes. It’s time for a new uniform.

Image: The Paris Review

I Shall Build an Army of My Own. A Robot Army. A Robot Army Made Entirely of Lady Robots

1 Nov

The first thing we’ll do is devise unnecessarily long titles for everything we write.

I need the distraction right now. As anyone who reads my blog or Facebook page already knows, I’ve been pretty upbeat since the layoff. I’m still me, however, so now and then I get anxious.

The last two days in particular have been nervewracking. I had a bunch of invoices to send people, and while I’m very (very, extremely, very) grateful to have clients to bill, I’m not someone for whom paperwork is an easy thing.

I feel like paperwork wants to get lost, and so far, I’m not getting any proof that this isn’t the case. Fax machines refuse to send W9s; mail goes astray. When they unravel the genome completely, they’ll find that this is carried on the same allele that makes it impossible to find my way back out of a doctor’s office I’ve just entered, provided we’ve turned a corner and opened a door. Maybe it’s some sort of physical world problem: directional dyslexia.

As if I weren’t anxious enough, I also have a meeting on Tuesday with the lovely people down at Unemployment, and I’m not sure how to explain what I’m doing. I sort of want to show them my schedule of work, perhaps in a colorful chart-type format, and hope that it sinks in that I’m probably going to be hitting them up for about two days a week in benefits, for the shortest amount of time ever. (This is assuming that my clients don’t drop me for being unable to persuade a fax machine to work.)

The people at employment yell at you in the security line. They confiscated Adam’s money clip, which his dead grandfather had given him, and threw Madeleine’s cupcakes into the trash in front of her, and said, “Now they’re TRASH.” If they treat me this way, I will lose control of my bowels and laugh at the same time. Now we’ll who has paperwork to fill out, Jimmy.

Paperwork, ugh. It plagues me from every angle. My biggest secret shame today is that I mixed up two invoices, and sent the wrong one to the wrong person. She was very understanding, but it did not look professional. (And, OK, no: the real worst is that as soon as I typed this, I realized that I’m doomed to get about about nine comments telling me that I’m using the wrong software to organize my invoices. And that I should also get a real job.)

Anyway, my point is that I am somewhat anxious. But still way less anxious than I was on my best day in an office. Also, weirdly, way more productive. I bet I’ll even get the hang of invoicing someday. Anything is possible, people!

robot army

Here I am, with my army of lady robots.

Dennis Keeps up With the Kardashians So I Don’t Have to

31 Oct

Jennie Smash: DENNIS!

Coworker Dennis: JEN!

Coworker Dennis: How are you?

Jennie Smash: I’m swell! How are you?

Coworker Dennis: Devastated by the announcement of Kim Kardashian’s divorce.

Jennie Smash: OMG, how hilarious?

Jennie Smash: I laughed so hard.

Coworker Dennis: She dressed as sexy Poison Ivy out of sadness, I guess.

Jennie Smash: As should we all.

Jennie Smash: In mourning for their fake relationship.

Coworker Dennis: I really just don’t want to watch the Kardashians act out sadness.

Coworker Dennis: And say things like “we were growing apart” on camera.

Jennie Smash: I don’t want to watch them do anything.

Jennie Smash: But I hope they say that.

Jennie Smash: Because I love the idea of growing apart over 72 days.

Jennie Smash: Also, I love that Kris is now dragging Nicole Brown Simpson into all of this.

Coworker Dennis: Oh, I know.

Coworker Dennis: She regrets not saving her life — by going to lunch with her.

Coworker Dennis: I’m not sure that prevents people from stabbing other people to death.

Jennie Smash: Salad. Salad solves everything.

Coworker Dennis: And then your husband defends the [alleged] killer and you’re just irked?

Jennie Smash: So ANNOYING.

Jennie Smash: I really think that whole family is the worst bunch of people ever, from any given direction.

Coworker Dennis: They’re all really awful. I can’t believe they’re famous.

Jennie Smash: They were the first thing that made me believe the world was going to end in 2012.

Coworker Dennis: Keeping Up With Harold Camping. I would watch that show.

Kim Kardashian as Poison Ivy

"I'm the worst."

Image: http://lovekardashian.tumblr.com/

Mean Reds No More?

31 Oct

image

Full disclosure: mama has taken her sleep medicine prior to creating this post, so you may well be reading all of this again during my commitment hearing.

It’ll be entertaining for me, since I won’t remember a thing about it. The temporary amnesia should probably give me the wig, but to doesn’t.

I’d be remiss, however, in my duties as a Blogger if I didn’t explain that it is Sunday and I don’t feel the Sunday night mean.reds at all. Not at all! This has to be a magic spell or something. If it is, don’t wake me up.

Also, here are some scary pumpkins for you, in honor of the holidays.

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5 Things That Have Happened Since I Got Laid off

25 Oct

Getting laid off is turning out to be one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, just below meeting Adam and moving to New York. Don’t believe me? Check out the shiz that’s happened since I lost my job.

  1. I remembered what I actually liked about my job in the first place, or I should say, my vocation: Writing and editing. Now that I’m freelance, that’s all I do and it’s amazingly satisfying, like gardening or chopping wood.
  2. My blood pressure went down 20-30 points. As of my doctor’s appointment this morning, it was a Chris Traeger-like 90/60. My personal nursing student/husband tells me that this is actually on the low side. Anyway, I feel great.
  3. I feel great, period. I’m so happy that my friends are commenting on it. I can’t really even muster up much concern about money, even thought I really should, as I hear they will not give you cheese at the supermarket without it. Ditto beer, although that is sometimes flexible depending on how cute you are.
  4. I have lost six pounds and am contemplating exercising on a regular basis.
  5. I have rediscovered how wonderful my friends are. I’m amazed at how many people reached out to me right after the layoffs to offer connections or freelance assignments or beer. Ooh, that’s another way in which a person can get free beer. I’ll have to remember that. Also, my husband is pretty rad, but I hadn’t forgotten that, so I don’t know if it counts.

Scene from a Marriage

10 Oct

Adam and I will be married a year next Sunday, which means that I will now subject you all to yet another post explaining how lucky I am to be married to him. (This is appropriate, since, having taken his last name, I am now officially Lucky myself.)

Last night I was sad. I had the PMS, I was feeling blue about some friends who are having woes of their own, and I was reading A Moveable Feast, which, while a great book, is tough to take.

“It’s just that Hemingway had all this love,” I explained to Adam. “And he wasted all of it.”

He’d asked why I was sniffling. We were in bed, about to go to sleep. “So what?” he asked. “Stupid of him.”

“Or maybe just careless,” I said. “Everyone is careless. It is stupid. But it’s also terrifying.”

“Not us,” he said, into my shoulder. He raised his chin and looked me in the eyes. Of his many beautiful features, his eyes might be the winner. They’re big and brown and always a little sad, even when he’s joking around. Which he wasn’t. I thought.

“No,” I said. “Not us.”

He stroked my hair. “There’s only one thing to do.”

“?”

“We must find the anteater.”

I covered my nose instinctively. “Oh no. Oh no, surely not.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” He leaned in toward my nose and stuck out his tongue. “We must find the anteater and utilize his skills at rootling out problems.”

“NO! NO ANTEATERS IN MY NOSE!”

“No? Well, that’s a shame. It’s the quickest way in. But I guess he can just go in through this ear…”

It’s very difficult to be gloomy when someone claiming to be an anteater is trying to stick his tongue in your nose and ears.

Image: Artisticdoom.com

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