A Serious Case of the "But-Firsts".

I’m having a great big case of the but-firsts at work today. Seems like I can’t start anything without having to do 12 other things first.

A case in point:

I’ve arrived at work, early for once, because I’d really like to get a jump on the day. But I’m staring at my computer like it’s an alien spacecraft, unable to comprehend the cryptic heiroglyphics on the screen.

For like 10 minutes.

I swear I was typing in English yesterday, but today…I don’t know what the hell I’m lookin’ at…

I think to myself “I need to start working, but first, I need a cup of coffee!”.

I grab my cup, walk to the coffee maker, but first I have to rinse and wash my cup from yesterday. Once cleaned, I go to to fetch coffee, but first I have to MAKE a pot, because the last schlub who emptied it didn’t start a new pot. (fuckin' loser!!!) So, I put down my cup, bring the coffee pot over to the water cooler to get water to make coffee, but first I have to put a new jug of water in the cooler because IT’S empty too!

I pull off the empty bottle, reach for a new one, but first I have to go outside to GET a full bottle because there’s only empties sitting in the office!

So - I had to go outside,
get a full water jug,
clean the top of it because of the dust and bird poop from outside,
put in on the water cooler,
so I could fill the coffee pot,
walk it back to the coffee maker,
set up a new pot,
wait for the coffee,
all so I could get motivated to WORK!

FINALLY I’m ready to work - but first – I’m taking my coffee break!

HAPPY New Year. I MEAN it!

I don't know about you, but my head is tired. Tired to freakin' death, of all the DEATH! Not to mention the destruction, war, disharmony and just plain bad news. I'm so sad from all the sadness. I don't want to hear about anymore men dressed as Santa killing 9 people on Christmas Eve. Here in Phoenix, the same thing happened the next day, on Christmas Day actual, the same way, but it probably didn't make the news where you live because the bastard only killed one person. The ex-wife. When are men going to stop killing us? Can't you just get on with your lives, and let us live ours? There is life after divorce, you know. Grow a spine, for chrissakes!

I'm a little scared of the bombing of the Gaza Strip. The bomb-ees are not going to take that lightly. Nothing good's gonna come of this. I'm tired of worrying about my job, my husband's job, my employer's future. Tired of worrying about money, and the economy. Tired of sorry f****rs like Madoff who are so cavalier about stealing 50 BILLION dollars! How can someone so smart not know that Ponzi schemes ALWAYS get found out, because they ALWAYS run out of steam?Did he really think that could just go on forever? And it was so sad to hear of Mr. de la Villehuchet who felt so hopeless about losing his client's money to Madoff, that he chose suicide. How utterly sad and awful for his family and friends.

I'm tired of Blagoyevich. How does one GROW an ego that huge?! How can he be so stupidstupidSTUPID to think he'd not get caught, especially after he KNEW he was being investigated. I just don't get it. And double damn you, Blago, for casting a shadow of doubt on my new president before he's even had a chance to tarnish his OWN name.

And I am so sad about, and tired of, the meaningless, money-sucking black hole that has become Christmas. I miss the magic. I miss the quiet, reverent awe of the day. The stillness and calm that fills the soul. I miss being 8 years old. I wish I could look God square in the eye, and say "I'm sorry we've mucked it all up so badly".

You know, I was planning to lead off this post with a few ramblings about the state of the world, and then finish off with something funny I had in mind. But as I write, I'm getting farther and farther away from funny. I surely don't want to diminish anyone's troubles by ending with some flip comment.

So instead of funny, I'm going to go out with hopeful. I hope for you, and for me, and everyone in the world, that goodness can find it's way back to the surface in 2009. I hope all the anger in the world can be toned down a bit with rational thinking. I hope all the hatred can be erased with love, or tolerance at the very least. In 2009, I hope your wallets get fat, your families stay healthy, your future looks promising and your dreams remain whole. I hope the universe can generally just dial the bad news back a notch.

So seriously. HAPPY New Year! I mean it!

My brain seized up like the engine in my old Ford Escort that I forgot to change the oil in for two years...

I'm in line at the grocery checkout. I have an uncanny, and unerring, ability to choose the slowest checkout line in any store. Tonight's no exception. I have 2 more stops to make on my way home from work. I'm tired, grouchy, and I can't figure out why I've been so gassy all day, but I'm bloated like a rotting corpse that's been lying in the sun for three days. I couldn't feel fatter if... well, if I WAS fatter. OF COURSE, the grocery store bathroom is unavailable because it's being cleaned. ...sigh... someone just kill me, please. Just one bullet. That's all I need.

So, my eyes wander over the candy bars, over the gum, over to the magazines...and I see THIS magazine...I instantly lust after that gorgeous pile of chocolate comfort in the cover photo, and just as instantly feel incredible guilt for not being able to control that lust. While the hate-myself thoughts are still forming in my head, I see the title of an article inside the magazine, "WALK OFF 15 LBS! EASY FAT-BLASTING PLAN" rightfreakingnext to the brownie photo!! what?!

I fell to the floor in a seizure. I was twitchin' and flailin' all over the floor at checkout aisle three, while the two halves of my brain tried to process these simultaneous and opposite assaults on my psyche. My brain seized up like the engine in my old Ford Escort that I forgot to change the oil in for two years.

Is it any wonder so many women are crazed prozacaholics? The temptations, the self-recriminations, the mixed messages. "Mmm, indulge yourself, you're worthy." versus "Don't get fat, or you'll be unworthy!"

Did anyone at Family Circle even look at this cover before it went to press? There can't be any women on staff there, because no woman could possibly be responsible for this kind of twisted, insidious misogyny. Shame on you, Family Circle. Next time, please try to pick one message for your cover. Either diet and fitness OR scrumptous food. Not both. I'm too young to have a stroke.