Archive for March, 2006

Thanks, And Sorry

March 30, 2006

Thanks to all of you who have posted such nice comments. Especially the two ex-boyfriends. You guys know exactly who I am, and that we didn’t break up because I was some kind of raving lunatic beach (instead of just a cranky one); we just drifted apart, and have remained friends thereafter for more than 30 years. Thanks for your words of support. They mean a lot.

And sorry to all of you who come to this blog hoping to be amused or enlightened. We are not very amused these days.

For anyone who is interested… I confronted that lying sack of you-know-what via e-mail, asking if his girlfriend knew he had two-timed her. I told him I had gone back over some old e-mail messages and discovered I had not imagined the intensity of his pursuit, and silly me, I believed he would make good.

He wrote back explaining that he and she were “only friends” when he was dating me, and that when they decided to take their relationship to the next level, he stopped seeing me. He never intended that he and I would be boyfriend and girlfriend, and if he gave me that impression, he apologizes.

Nice try, but I’m not buying it. I have my sources, and what I have learned about the timing would probably convince any jury in the land. Plus I have the e-mails. And I have very clear memories of some verbal statements. He was after me, big time. And then he wasn’t. He didn’t have the filberts to tell me to my face; he just kind of disappeared. I can be a bit dense sometimes, but even I get the picture when somebody stops calling and e-mailing for months at a time. This after assuring me most sincerely that just as soon as things lightened up a bit at work, we’d spend a lot more time together. Uh huh. He strung me along like that for quite a while; kept telling me to keep in touch, no, he couldn’t go to this concert or that movie, but keep asking, ’cause he’d like to do something with me soon.

There’s no other way to say it. He led me on–and then had the chutzpah to come off all bewildered and injured when I called him on it.

I have far too much class to flatten his tires, or call up his girlfriend (lucky for him), but I can understand why women scorned go berserk.

I once told him I had no regrets. I’ve changed my mind. I regret I ever picked up the phone that day, and it went downhill from there. I regret making wonderful memories that are now tainted because none of it was real.

Somebody remind me that I need to hire a private investigator for a complete background check before accepting a first date with anybody new….

Annoyed

March 30, 2006

Many have asked if the preceding blog entry is about me.

Yes, it is.

The revelation that he has a girlfriend–and has had all along–was not entirely a surprise. I’m not quite that dumb. And quite a bit of time has passed. But I am still very annoyed, because now all of the good memories of the wonderful moments we shared are tainted by the knowledge that none of it was real.

Just this morning I remembered the incident when he came to pick me up, and before we drove away, he made a couple of calls on his cell phone. When he hung up, he turned to me and said, “I have another girlfriend. Are you jealous?” “I don’t know. Should I be?” “Well, she’s a real babe,” he said. Turned out, it was an 85 year old lady in a nursing home. We went and got a pizza and took it to share with her; he figured she was going to die anyway so she might as well enjoy something she theoretically wasn’t supposed to have. After the visit I teased him that I would definitely have to watch my back, with her in the wings.

I debated with myself about whether to contact him… and I am about to send him an e-mail suggesting that “I can’t get into a relationship right now” (his words) is a helluva lot different than “I have a girlfriend, want to be the other woman?”

No, my heart isn’t broken. But I am royally pissed.

Grr.

Does She Know?

March 28, 2006

Does a woman know when she’s being two-timed?

Does she have the slightest idea that the “other woman” didn’t know he was otherwise occupied? Would she believe such an unlikely story?

And what about that filbert-less chicken-snot who neglected to mention that he already had a girlfriend, when he so ardently pursued the innocent bystander who became the “other woman” and didn’t know it?

What makes a guy do that? Give the other woman every impression of planning some kind of future with her? Even court her in public and in front of some of his close personal friends? Has he no clue, or does he just like to live dangerously?

Just curious.

Update: My mother is so hacked off, she couldn’t sleep last night. She has vowed to take her business elsewhere.

And I need to go kick something.

I. Hate. Moving.

March 19, 2006

This is the sixth move I’ve done for this employer, and it BETTER be the last.

We started Thursday afternoon. Now it’s Sunday, and we’re still neck-deep in boxes. We open for business tomorrow morning. Are we ready? H-E-double-hockey-sticks no.

Somebody stole the trash can out of my old office, so I stole the one out of the old copy room. Then somebody stole that one yesterday, so I stole the one out of the bathroom. I think I’m going to nail it to the floor.

For some reason, one particular room in the new building was supposed to have a 9-foot ceiling. Guess what. Every room BUT that one has 9-foot ceilings. Go figure.

Yesterday they ordered lunch for us at Quizno’s. I hope they do it again today. I’m getting hungry. But the boss just left to go to a concert, or something, so maybe not….

The computer network is up… all except the one server that holds my department’s software. No one can figure out how to assign it a static IP. (Any good Unix geeks out there?) So if we want to work… we have to go stand by the server, and only one of us can work. Of course our software support people are not working on the weekend.

I plan to go into a well-deserved coma when this is all over.

UPDATE: One of the staff just came in and said she’s ordering pizzas. Yee haw! I shall not starve today.

Still Playing Cards

March 10, 2006

My landlord–an Italian immigrant–just told me his tale of woe about one of the downstairs neighbors.

Seems the guy was asked not to park his car in a place that’s clearly marked “No Parking.”

He told the landlord, “You’re picking on me because I’m black. Want to talk to my lawyer?”

“America is not supposed to be like that,” the landlord mourned.

Welcome to the land of the race card.

No, They’re Just Tacky

March 9, 2006

Lil’ Sis is working at a doctor’s office as a temp while someone is out on maternity leave.

She is not being included in the weekly pharmaceutical rep-catered lunches. She’s trying not to take it personally.

Today I asked the reps that brought our weekly lunch if there was some protocol about only permanent employees being allowed to partake of the lunches.

They said no, it’s somebody in the office who tells the reps how many people to bring food for each time, so someone is seriously lacking in manners and good taste.

They then suggested I call her, tell her to come over to our office, load up a plate, take it back to her office, and tell them where she got it.

And I would have done it, except they go on answering service for the lunch break so I would not have been able to reach her. Too bad.

Dumb Criminals

March 8, 2006

Ninjababe tells quite a story about a drug-seeker at the pharmacy where she works:

…someone turned in a prescription that was obviously altered. We could tell it was supposed to be for Ultracet (which is a pain medication in the same drug class as prescription strength Motrin). The patient changed it to Percocet (which is in the same drug class as Morphine). We told the patient that we’d have to call the doctor because he didn’t write a strength on the prescription…

…after the patient left, the coworker who took the prescription faxed the doctor to make sure it wasn’t altered. It was. So, we called the police.

…Then, the patient called to see if his prescription was ready. We told him yes, as we were told to say that by the officer. He showed up in drive-thru. The police officer was called, but he was in another situation where he couldn’t come over. So, we were told to tell the patient that there was a question as to if the prescription was altered or not. (The patient responded, “Altered? You mean changed?”) He was asked to call a number given to him (which was to the police officer) and after cleared up, we would give the prescription.

As he drove off, [my] coworker wrote down the make, model and color of the car, plus the license plate.

We report, you decide.

Speaking Of Cars…

March 1, 2006

We are moving our office lock, stock and barrel in just over 2 weeks, to a brand-new building that is still under construction. Yesterday I went out to the site, and after a conversation with the contractor, hurried back to the office to measure a couple of filing cabinets before the guys nailed down the countertops they’re supposed to fit under.

On the way back I ran into a major traffic jam on the freeway off-ramp. A fire engine, ambulance and police car all hovered around a car whose front end was severely smashed in. The driver was still in the car, with a paramedic at the door.

I was a good girl and didn’t rubberneck, but thought the car looked rather familiar. I was right. It was a co-worker’s mother who lost her brakes and plowed into another car.

She’s all right, all things considered, but she was gripping the steering wheel so hard, her hand actually split open. She thinks she cracked a rib (the x-rays were equivocal) and she’s very, very sore and can barely get out of bed… but she’s alive.

And lucky.

Skateboard Redux

March 1, 2006

The poor Lexus is back in the body shop this week. This time, I tangled with a pole in my parking lot because some idiot was illegally and badly parked. I thought I could maneuver around said idiot. I was wrong. I scratched and dented the driver’s side door, and shattered the rearview mirror and cracked the housing.

This time, the rental agency was actually out of skateboards, so I got at least two levels of upgrade at no extra charge. I’m driving a Mazda 6. You know, the car in the obnoxious “zoom zoom” commercials. It’s a step up from a skateboard… but it sure as ‘eck ain’t a Lexus. I have gotten so very spoiled.

I want my car back.

Prognosis on the patient is early next week… or, if there’s a miracle, perhaps on Friday.

Pray for a miracle, okay?