1972. Longview, Texas.

Hi, Internets. Thought you might find this little treasure from Karla May's Never-ending Collection of Crap from her Past interesting.

It's the text to an article--artfully crafted by one Jimmy Brown--from a 1972 edition of the Longview News-Journal. All of the crappy writing, crummy punctuation and other fuckups are Jimmy's, not mine. Apparently the News-Journal was lacking a copy editor when this story made the paper.

Turning out highly precision aircraft parts on a complex, incredibly difficult to operate turret lathe where tolerances are figured in thousands of an inch taxes any trained machinist's skill. But one Gladewater grandmother earns $3.89 an hour while putting in a five-day week at LTV's Gregg County Plant, located adjacent to the Gregg County Airport near here.

Mrs. Ruth Melton, who lives with her family at 607 N. Wood Street is described by her foreman, James C. [my dad--K.M.], as the equal of any male machinist in LTV's immaculate, air conditioned machine shop.

What's more, her male workmates give her the respect she has earned the hard way--by her ability to produce near flawless machined parts. This is no mean feat; each part is subject to stringent and exhaustive quality control inspection before acceptance.

Mrs. Melton, the mother of four including James, 20; Cathy, 18; Freddie, 14, and also seven year-old Angela also manages to keep house and assist her husband, James in his roofing business. The two eldest are married and have twice made her a grandmother.

She has worked for LTV for the past four years but learned her highly skilled trade in California. She has a total of some eight years experience as a machinist since she was first hired on as a trainee in a California shop. Al her experience she learned on the job. A Gladewater native and a 1950 Union Grove High School graduate, she says and her family enjoy living in her home town after some years in California.

But she enjoys her work even more. "I love my work," she says, "I get treated like a lady. LTV hired me when no one else would."

The huge Dallas-based firm which makes A-7 and S3-A submarine hunter aircraft for the Navy and other hardware for the space program has a program stressing equal opportunity. The Gregg County Plant employs about 145 machinists and other precision machine tool operators and turns out finished machined parts for several types of aircraft.

Mrs. Melton says she is never troubled by men looking down on her and her work.. [Yes, there were two periods at the end of that sentence in the printed version of this.--K.M.] She insists she is treated as a skilled worker on the job and has never experienced any male predjudice.

Her foreman agrees. "She works right along with the best of them," he said, adding that she reads complicated blueprints and "sets up" her lathe without any assistance.

She takes an extremely dim view of womens liberation movement, emphatically disclaiming any sympathy for the movement's aims.

Mrs. Melton, long active in her local union served as union recording secretary and lately was elected by fellow members as the only woman serving on the board of trustees.

Okay, so many things freak me out about this article.

1) This was written only 34 years ago, but this thing sounds like it was written in 1950. Right? I mean, this was during my lifetime. Crazy.

2) $3.89 an hour. Jesus Christ. AND she had to take care of the two kids were still living at home and I'm sure her husband as well. But does she support the Women's Lib movement? Oh no... Wow.

3) The condescending tone of this thing is just nauseating.

4) Can you believe all the personal stuff about her they put in there? Her address? Her family members' names and ages? I'm surprised it didn't include her phone number and weight in the article. It really WAS a different world back then...

5) It bugged the SHIT out of me that it constantly referred to her as "MRS. Ruth Melton" instead of just "Ruth Melton."

6) That's one of the few pictures I have of my dad without his 70s porn star moustache that he kept waaaaaaaaaaay after the 70s.

I wonder what her thoughts are on cucumbers.

This simply defies description. It's worth the 3 minutes and 57 seconds of your life required to watch it.

I'm just saying...

From today's "Motley Fool" newsletter about increasing your retirement nestegg:

"Imagine that you're 35 years old, you smoke one pack of cigarettes a day, and each pack costs you, on average, about $5. Multiply $5 by 365 days, and you're looking at an annual cost of $1,825. If you took this $1,825 and invested it in the stock market, earning the historical average return of 10% per year, in 30 years you'd have $31,845. If you invested $1,825 in the market each year for 30 years, you'd end up with more than $300,000! All that from quitting smoking."

The scary thing about this picture...

...is not the alarmingly cheesy grin going on. It's the fact that I'd already taken the ponytail holder that held the Pebbles Flintstone ponytail up on top of her head out of her hair, and her hair was so damn dirty from daycare, that it just stayed like that.

And earlier tonight, she got her purse and put her cellphone in it and announced, "Bye bye. Going Dah's house!!" I told her to be careful on Hwy. 71, especially where they're doing that construction between Bee Caves and 620. I'm happy to report that she didn't leave, and instead rounded the couch and quickly announced, "I'm back!!"

What a goony bird.

The resume: She is done

No, it's not earth-shattering, but it feels pretty good to have it finished. And my cover letter. That's done too. Now I just have to have pre-interviews with 3 VPs, interview everyone on my team, reach out to the 11 Regional Trainers and their bosses so that they can all tell me what they want me to be doing, then take AAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLL of the info I gather from all of those meetings and interviews and phonecalls, and use it to build my vision statement and action plan for the team. Oh, and then there's the interview itself.

At my company, our interviews are group interviews, meaning it's the interviewee (victim) sitting in the room with the interviewing panel (firing squad). I've been through 3 of these interviews during my time at this company. But I've sat on the interview panel for so many, I've totally lost track. The most brutal one I ever participated involved about 20 people on the panel. It was for a new VP of Marketing, and everyone from the company founder/CEO to...well...underlings like me were involved. It was super fucked. The panel's table was shaped like a "U", and the poor bitches/bastards interviewing had a chair set up in the middle of the "U," and they just had to sit there and take it. But I've been involved in many others before and since that one, and they ALL make me cringe for the poor interviewee. And that's gonna be me. Yuck.

You know what I think I'm gonna do for reals though? I'm not sure when this sucker is going to be scheduled. I'm guessing the interview will happen early in the 2nd week of July. But after it's over, I think I'm going to take a day or two off and just chill. Go have a massage. See a movie or two. Go to Deep Eddy. Get my car cleaned up. Maybe have another massage. I get myself all wound up about this kind of crap, so it only makes sense that I would need to unwind, right?

On another note, for now, the Geej's bedtime issues seem to have subsided. I know it's temporary, but damn, I'm grateful. We've altered our night-night routine slightly, and she's going to bed at 8:30 instead of 8:00, but it's been peaceful for almost a week now, and best of all: no wandering!!

Speaking of The Geej, here's a random, adorable photo of her from when she was 4 1/2 mos. old. Good God, she's always been edible.

Finally: This is my 400th post, people!! Unreal. I can't believe I've kept this thing up as long as I have. I wonder what will be happening for my 500th post. And my 1000th. Hmmm...

My real resume.

All day today, I've been trying to clean up and resurrect my resume in preparation for this Team Leader job I'm going for. It's not an easy thing to do. The last time this sucker was updated was 2001, and it was done for a much different purpose than what I'm tweaking it for now. I've been struggling with it most of today. Trying to represent all that I've done and all that I do without getting too bogged down in minutiae and not losing the depth of my experience. It's a tough balancing act. There are things I accomplished in a job I had 6 years ago that I think are relevant to this job I'm going for. But do I include that shit? Does that seem desperate?

I wish I could just submit a piece of paper that says, "In lieu of a resume, let me just say that I'm the right person for this job. You know it. I know it. See you at the interview." But I don't think that would fly well.

I also completed my cover letter today too. Now I'm about to embark on writing questions for my "business partners" and "potential Team Members" so that when I meet with them all individually some time over the next 2 weeks, I'll solicit answers to questions that will hopefully inform the creation of my Vision Statement and Action Plan that will be presented and examined during my interview.

Good God, people. This whole thing is pretty nuts. I'm already envisioning a vacation on a beach somewhere to decompress after this whole thing is over and done with.

Okay. Enough blogging. Back to building my career.

These are a few of my favorite things.

My vintage bowling shoes. My personalized purple bowling ball. My vintage bowling bag. And Earl. Although he's roughly the same size, Earl weighs four pounds more than that ball, but I don't think he'd roll as well. And God knows, I don't want to have to stick my fingers in whatever holes may exist to hurl him down the alley.

The sunset tonight (and other things).

Earlier tonight, I went to dinner with the very fabulous Jaye and her dear friend Margy. (Have you heard Jaye's great news?) We went to Polvo's. We luuuuuuuuurve Polvo's. After dinner, when I walked back across the street where I was parked, I turned around to get in my car and I saw this:
This picture doesn't do it justice at all. The colors were so vibrant and intense. I just stood there watching it change for a couple of minutes. Wow.

The Geej is at Dah's house. I ran a gazillion errands today and did stuff around the house. Oh yeah: and I took a nap. It was awesome. Tomorrow is "get your shit together for the job interview process day" at Casa de Karla May. It's like the biggest homework assignment ever. Next to the adoption paperwork. Nothing will ever beat that.

Let's see...what else...

OH YEAH! Shit!

I got an e-mail this week asking if I wanted to be on the planning committee for our...gulp...20 year high school reunion. It doesn't happen until next year, but still. Shit! No WAY! I REMEMBER my mom having her 20 yr. reunion. I was 14. She was my age now. Holy cow--it was a big deal to her. You know: small town and all... Plus, at her 10 year, she and my dad had gone, and they'd been headed for divorce, so I'm sure it wasn't all that fun. But I clearly remember her and my stepdad coming home tipsy and triumphant. Weird, that.

I definintely want to go to my 20 yr. No question. But mainly that's because I had SUCH a good time at my 10 yr. reunion. I really enjoyed seeing everyone again and learning what was up in their lives. It wasn't competitive AT ALL. Just really, really fun. The best part about it is that all those bullshit clique walls that you have when you're 18 are non-existent. You're all just people. I DO remember 3 different people asking me if I'd had a boob job. But whatever.

I swear, I have more stuff to write about. But I'm tapped out for now. I'm sure I'll contribute something loooooooooong tomorrow when I should be working on my job interview stuff. You know...procrastination, and whatnot.

THIS is why I read the Superficial every single day.

"Britney Spears was spotted in New York today with newly dyed black hair. I guess she was sick of all the jokes and felt it was time to change her image. Although somebody should point out that people didn't think she was stupid because she was blonde, they thought she was stupid because she was really fucking stupid. You can put a donkey in a lab coat and tape a diploma to its back, but I'm pretty sure at the end of the day it still has no idea how to work a Bunsen burner."

Brilliant, BRILLIANT writing.

Go there now.

What I learned today in the fancy French restaurant:

"Lardons" is French for "bacon cubes."










Makes sense, oui?

Somebody should really put this kid to bed.

4:44 am

That's what time I was woken up this morning by an alarm clock that my nearly-23-month-old set for me in the guest room all the way across the house from my room. The urban rap station was turned up to 11 so I could hear it from the other end of the house, no problemo. That was terribly thoughtful of her, dontcha think?

In less grumpy news, we attended our maiden performance of The Biscuit Brothers tonight at the Austin Children's Museum at the suggestion of a mommy of one of her classmates. It was packed with the under 7 set, and there was lots of dancing and clapping and general merry-making. At first The Geej wasn't digging in too much. She hates anything loud, and she thought the singing was a little too much. But once they sang "B-I-N-G-O" (one of her favorites), she was won over. Four of her classmates were there, along with a friend of mine and his two kiddos. A good time was had by all, and it certainly beat sitting in traffic after work.

In the "holy crap" department, I found out yesterday that the Team Leader job that I'm going for (that I'd written about in an earlier) was posted yesterday, and closes a week from today. So yeah, I've only got a week to get my shit pulled together and turned in to the Big Boss Man. And here's the super crazy part: He specified in the posting that this position is "only open to current members of [my] team." And I'm the only one on my team going for it. Um...okay. On the one hand, I'm thrilled that he has enough confidence in me to do it this way, but on the other, I'm afraid of the political backlash this might cause. I guess I can't worry about that because Que Sera, Sera. But still...

Finally, I must share with you something that happened last night. I was walking through the den on my way back to my room after checking on The Geej right before I went to bed. It was pretty dark, as all the lights in the house were off except for in my room, and as I walked past the chair in the den, I heard the unmistakeable rumbling of Earl's motor. I squinched my eyes in the darkness, and could tell he was all kinds of pimped out, lying on his side like $240 worth of pudding. Awww yeah. So I had to grab the camera. Here's what I captured:
Is he a badass, or what? That photo just screams "cold busted chillin'."

I'm still sick, and our government is still stupid.

Hack. Cough. Groan.

I swear, I would go to the doctor. I would. But my GP said it would be NEXT Thursday before they could get me in. And I'm too impatient to go to a doc-in-the-box. I have a fear that my doctor would look like this:"Hi everybody!"

And why do I want to get well anyway? What's more appealing than hearing someone coughing like they're about to cough up a Mini Cooper? Nothing.

Just in case you'd dozed off, and forgotten that our country is run by a bunch of morons, may I refer you to this article: "Pentagon memo: Homosexuality is a disorder." You know, like mental retardation. Seriously. Seriously! WTF is wrong with the leadership of this country? Do the White Men who run it not know one single gay dude or chick? I mean, you're born gay, or you're not. It's like having blue eyes or brown. It's just part of who you are, not a disorder. Ugh.

Well, the ongoing saga of "Curse of the Wandering Toddler," has (temporarily) been put on hold. We're doing a new bedtime ritual that includes going to bed about 30 minutes later than she used to and lots and LOTS of pre-bed talking about going night-night, and it seems to be working. For now. If not, La Turista suggested I zip her monkey ass up in this here baby tent. I guess that beats velcro-ing her to the bed sheets...

Alright, time to fold the laundry, take a shower, shave my legs, clean the tubs, give the Old Cat her meds, and dose myself with NyQuil. Again.

Cough.

Suddenly, everything's changed.

Saturday night, waaaaaaaaay after The Geej's regular bedtime, we arrived home tired and happy after Annie O's righteous 3rd birthday soiree. I changed the diaper of The Geej, and put her wiped out self into her crib. Then the wailing commenced. I told her goodnight, and left the room shutting the door behind me. I went into the guestroom to check my e-mail. No sooner had I logged on when, lo and behold, The Geej walks into the room, teary eyed and sleepy. That's right people: she's crawling out of the crib now. Holy crap. That means every sense of security that you feel when you tuck them away for the night is gone. Evaporated. It totally freaked me out. I put her back in the bed, then hid in the corner to watch her do her thing. And what did she do? Headfirst, into sort of a stunt man roll. It was alarming to say the least. I was planning on getting her a "big girl bed" for Christmas, but it looks like she'll be getting one for her birthday (which is next month) instead. Lordy.

The other big development at Casa de Geej: The highchair a.k.a. ongoing lab experiment in nastiness is no more. Instead, we now have (drumroll) the Kinderzeat!

Overpriced? Yes. But I'll be damned if those Scandinavians don't know how to design some cool furniture. I put this thing together in nothing flat, and it's sturdy and adjustable all at the same time. And you push it right up to the table. My little breakfast area is quite small, and that damn highchair was taking up a whole helluva lot of floor space. Plus, it was ugly. (There's really no such thing as a "pretty" highchair, in my opinion.) Now it's in storage waiting for a garage sale, and I've got this nifty little number to accommodate the Geej's peaches whilst dining. Yay!!

Other news? Well, I'm still sick. It's been a week now, and I've still got the deep, hacking cough of a 3-pack a day smoker. Plus, my entire body aches due to my hardcore coughing fits. No medicine seems to help--even Mucinex, which I've heard works like a charm. And my throat hurts really badly today. I'm so sick of being sick it's not even funny.

This morning when I was listening to K-UT while getting ready, I heard these words, "At 7:00, it's 75 degrees, and 95% humidity." Oy.

Dear Satan,

Hi there. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind returning my angelic daughter and taking back this Hellspawn you've replaced her with. I mean, a joke's a joke, and I enjoy a good laugh as much as the next sinner, but hey: It's reeeeeeeeeeeeally not funny anymore. This "child" that currently resides with me is, well, sort of evil. My real daughter was never like this--hitting classmates constantly and on purpose, willfully breaking things, screaming like a banshee for 30 minutes at bedtime, throwing food on the floor and spitting it out of her mouth like she did when she was 10 mos. old. The only way I can explain this sudden and complete change in personality is due to your tomfoolery and hoodwinkery and general mischief making. So please: give me a break and return my sweet baby girl. It'll free you up to go start some useless wars or spread some plague somewhere.

Hoping,
Karla May

The boy ain't right.

Earl has a major shoe fetish. The stinkier the shoe, the more he gets into it.
And what makes this really great, is the absolutely blissed out purr that's going on. I mean, it sounds like a Harley rolling by.

Can't think of witty title. Too sick.

Hello everyone. I'm sick as a flippin' dawg. Started feeling the dreaded "tickle in my throat" yesterday evening, and by about midnight, I had 102 fever, and was hating life. I tossed and turned all night (despite the NyQuil--I KNOW!! That shit usually knocks me out too!), and called my mom at 7am saying, "I need help." Managed to get up and get The Geej ready for school (she's had a bit of a dry cough for the past couple of days, but nothing like what I've now got, so I barely touched her this morning for fear of passing this along), took her, went to Walgreen's and loaded up on the entire cold/flu department, then came back home and crawled in the bed. Mom came into town and picked up the baby from school and took her to her house. I just didn't want her around me for fear that she'd come down with whatever this is. Also, I'm pretty miserable, so I don't even think I could really take care of her.

It' now 6:10pm, and this is the first time I've been out of bed (except to pee) all day. I haven't had a bite to eat, and very little to drink. I'm coughing, aching, feverish, and have the most banging headache you can imagine. Like red wine hangover bad. Kill. Me. Now.

On MUCH happier news, I've just spent a wonderful weekend with Mr. Wonderful and--gulp--almost his entire family. We were at brand spankin' new Hyatt Lost Pines resort with his mother, brother and sister-in-law and their two kids, and his two boys, ages 11 and 6. I gotta say, I was nervous as Hell about this whole thing. I mean, I was not only hoping the kids would like me, but the mom and brother et. al. too. I was a basket case, but it all went very smoothly. I really, really enjoyed them. They were fun, funny, and easy to be around. I hope they liked me at least half as much as I liked them.

Saturday afternoon, I went out there and took The Geej. We hung out by the pool and got to meet/know everybody. The Geej was in a very goofy mood, and managed to charm everyone. We all went to a very long dinner in one of the hotel's restaurants (they're definitely still working out the kinks out there...they've only been open for about a week), and then she and I headed home.

Sunday, we woke up and went out to my mom's house. We had a late breakfast, and then I left The Geej there and headed back out to the resort. You see, I'd rented a room out there for Sunday night because I wanted to be able to spend more time with the entire family to get to know them all better, and that's more easily done without The Geej in tow. Oh, and also, I'd told Mr. Wonderful before his trip that I thought I'd go insane if we didn't get some quality alone time, so I rented a room out there so that I'd have a place to jump on him in private. I'd booked my room online, and asked for a "non-smoking King" and when they asked for "Any special preferences?" I clicked the "Honeymoon Couple" box just for the hell of it (which may have sent their computers haywire since I also put that there was "1 adult" staying in the room). Well, I'm not sure if that's what did it, but Karla May ended up in one PIMPED OUT suite, folks. I mean, it wasn't a regular room at all. It was two great big rooms, with two separate patios, and two flat screen t.v.s and the most comfortable hotel bed I think I've ever slept in. Let me tell you: Shit like this never happens to me. I never get upgraded. I never win prizes. It's just not my thing. So for me to get this sweet ass room for the price of a regular room was quite a little treat. Too bad I was only there for one night because I didn't really get to make the most of it...like havin' Dom Perignon parties with my bitches and whatnot. So Sunday, we hung out by the pool most of the afternoon, then loaded the whole crew in Mr. Wonderful's brother's Big Huge SUV and head into Austin for Mexican food. On our way back out to the resort, the most AMAZING big, orange moon was rising low in the east. We watched it the whole way. It was spectacular. When we got back to the hotel, Mr. Wonderful came down to my room, and we sat out on my patio, watching the moon rise over the trees, enjoying the breeze and a bottle of wine. It was pretty damn perfect.

Yesterday, I'd taken off of work, so after I got checked out of my room (bye bye suite! Whaaaaaaah!), we all headed into town again, and spent a lazy afternoon lounging and swimming at Barton Springs. Again, pretty damn perfect.

Oh, by the way: When did Barton Springs become "clothing optional"? I'm just wondering since this group of gals lying near our group were topless (much to the delight of the male members of our group, I'm sure).

Mr. Wonderful and his crew were relocating to a hotel in Austin this evening before taking off tomorrow, so I fully intended on seeing them again at dinner or something, but then...THE SICKNESS. I only pray that I haven't already passed whatever this is along to him and his entire family. What an impression THAT would leave. But the bottom line is, we didn't get to say a real goodbye, because when I left him yesterday, I thought I'd be seeing him again tonight. And now, I don't know when I'll be seeing him again. Sigh.

Sick, sad and lonely. I am really, really pitiful.

Ingenuity is dead. Long live Ingenuity!

Remember when you heard that they were doing a movie version of "The Dukes of Hazzard" staring that dude who gets hit in the nuts on purpose on MTV, and that other dude who boned "Stiffler's mom" in that one movie and was in that other movie with that young doof who married Demi Moore who had that show on MTV where he "punked" people and that blonde chick with the big tits who had that show on MTV where she didn't know the difference between chicken and tuna and fish? And remember when the news that millions of dollars were going to the production of this movie made you queasy because you thought about how fucking stupid MTV is and about much that movie money would mean to say, to people suffering in the Sudan...or people rebuilding from the Tsunami...or people in our own country who can't afford the medicine or food they need to survive? And remember how all of that made you want to go into a dark closet and cry, but instead you just muttered to yourself in your best Charles Whitman psycho-waiting-to-happen grumble, "Ingenuity is dead"? Remember that?

Well, my friend. Do I have some happy news for you. The ingenious folks at the Rebel Winery in the great state of Oregon have used their creative juices (and the juice of thousands of bunches of grapes) to invent the greatest single thing to emerge in this New Millennium.

May I humbly present to you: Bandit brand Juice Boxes for Adults* (available at your local Whole Foods Market for $9.99:
Cabernet Savignon also available.

* Tag line: "Wine snob tested. Mother Earth approved."

Job anxiety blues.

Well, regular readers, as you know, my team has been "bossless" since late January. There was all this crapola going on that put the leader search on hold, but now they're getting ready to post the Team Leader's job and your little ol' Karla May is going to throw her proverbial hat in the ring for the gig. Gulp.

Okay, a couple of things:

I've been with this company 6.5 years, which is over 3 times longer than I've ever worked anywhere ever. I mean the longest I'd ever stayed anywhere prior to coming to work at the Current Company (CC) was 2 years. I always left on my own volition. I've never been fired. I would just get bored or move or something. The whole reason I'm telling you this is because CC has been a place where I've wanted to "build a career" since the day I was hired.

During the 6.5 years I've been at CC, I've had 4 different positions and moved offices 6 times. I'm used to a helluva lot of change, and I've learned a LOT during my time there. I feel--finally--that I'm ready for a leadership position. All of the things I've experienced over the past 3 or so years both professionally and personally have matured me and thickened my skin. I've become more pragmatic and more astute from a business perspective. The time has come, people.

Since the departure of our former team leader (and really, to a large extent prior to her rather spectacular implosion and departure), I have been the defacto and/or acting team leader. It's put me in awkward positions at time, but I have really taken the opportunity to use it as training wheels, and I've (once again) learned a lot, and I think I've done a pretty good job.

So here I stand at the ledge, about to jump into the consideration process, which at CC, is a pretty damn intimidating prospect. Here's why:

I've never officially been a "boss" (although I'm plenty bossy, just ask anyone), so I'm lacking that experience on paper.

I haven't updated my resume since early 2003, and I've got done a LOT since then. But WHAT all I've done, I can't exactly remember. So there's that.

And then the interview prep process at CC and then the actual interviews themselves (done in front of a firing squad--I mean, panel--of at least 10 people, including some company Big Wigs) are notoriously brutal. But hey: if you emerge as the candidate of choice after the process is complete you've fucking earned it, and there's a certain amount of respect that comes with that.

But if this thing happens--and now I'm really hoping that it does--I think it will force me to grow and challenge me in ways I can't yet imagine. And those are the aspects of a job that keep it interesting and make you stay there. Also, I think the financial boost would make my life as a single mom of Her Royal Highness, The Geej a bit easier. Right now, every single cent I get paid every two weeks is spoken for. Granted, I'm very practical and tend to squirrel away quite a bit of my earnings (a very large part of my gross pay goes into my 401k, our stock purchase plan, my ROTH IRA, a 529 account for the Geej's college, my savings account, my dependent care reimbursement account, my healthcare reimbursement account, etc.), but still... If I got this job, I would be able to hire a maid to come every couple of weeks and help me do all the stuff that is damn near impossible to do with an almost 2 year old in your care. The thought of that makes me practically orgasmic. And I'd be able to put even more toward my ROTH IRA, Geej's college fund, etc.

So yeah. Prepare to read a lot about this whole ordeal during the next few weeks. And I tell you what: If I get this job, champagne's on me.

Simple math.

06.07.06 + 9:14pm + 90 degrees = We are sooooooo fucked this summer, ya'll.

The Lipstick Post; Or, How I Prove to you Once Again That I'm a Total Weirdo

No one should have this many crappy, drug store lipsticks. But I do.

There are few things more hypnotizing to me than the lipstick aisles at Ulta. I can, literally, spend the better part of an hour contemplating "Sahara Sunrise" and "Berry Sexy." And don't preach: I know this stuff is tested on animals and isn't good for you or P.C., but I simply cannot help it. I'm an addict, and it goes waaaaaaaaay back.

When my dad was trying to get out of paying child support (which he did vigorously until I was 18), he used to give me his J.C. Penney credit card (instead) at the beginning of the school year, and tell me I could spend $250. Well, I was too big of a snob to even THINK about purchasing any clothes at Jaques Penays, so I would spend almost every dime at the makeup counter (the rest of it, I'd buy underwear, nighties, socks, and shit like that). But even then, I didn't go for the higher end make up--I wanted quantity. Fuck quality. I'd just load up with as many eyeshadows, blushes and lipsticks that credit card could handle. But mainly, it was lipsticks.

It's not my addiction that's strange though. I know others with the same weakness. What's strange is my application technique, and the resulting damage it inflicts upon my crappy lipsticks. This photo shows the evolution from a relatively new tube (on the left), to one at the bitter end of its life (on the right):

This takes mad skills, folks. What I do is apply to both the upper and lower lip simultaneously. I'm sure it saves me loads of time (not). Lets look a little closer, shall we?

How goofy looking is that? It must look pretty strange to the unitiated, because every time someone sees me apply for the first time and gets a look at the strange shape of my lipstick, they ALWAYS comment.

I'm a freak.

BOR-ING!

You know how when you go on vacation, and you're in a totally new city, but somehow you wind up eating at Chili's? Yeah. Me neither. The idea of that pisses me off. I mean, why the HELL would you do that when you're in a totally new place with totally new things and places to experience?

Which leads me to dreams. (Stay with me now...)

I think of dreams and dreaming as little vacations that your brain gets to go on. Sometimes you go to scary places, sometimes to really cool places, sometimes the places you go are really freakin' trippy, and other times they're like the sexiest places ever. Me-ow! So when dream time is wasted on boring, pedestrian everyday crap, it ticks me off. I've written about this before, actually. But I'm compelled to write about it again because last night I may have had literally the most boring dream anyone's ever had in the history of the planet:

I was at my computer, looking at an excel spreadsheet that someone had e-mailed me. I was going over it carefully, and noticed some information I thought looked fishy. So I picked up the phone, and called the person who'd sent it to me to ask them about it.

That's it.

That's the whole dream.

That's even WORSE than eating at Chili's on vacation. That's like eating at Applebee's.

And a good time was had by all.

This was a good weekend. Good weather (albeit hot, but it's June in Texas, so there you go). The Geej was in very good spirits. We had a fun event to attend last night. I had a couple of very enjoyable conversataions with Mr. Wonderful. It was just all good.

So let's recap:

Friday was fairly typical. When I picked up the Geej at school, she was not only filthy, she was wet. They'd been playing outside in the water/mud, and she'd clearly had a blast. She's beginning to remind me a lot of Pig Pen from the "Peanuts" cartoons. Didn't do much that evening. Went to bed fairly early.

The Geej slept until nearly 8:30 Saturday morning. You read that right: 8:30. It was awesome. We got up, had a late breakfast, ran some errands (during which the Geej constantly commented on the "motorcycle...loud...noise...off...no motorcycle." Apparently, she's not a big fan of the Republic of Texas biker rally). Yesterday evening, we went to the coolest thing. A friend/coworker of mine filmed an episode of Trading Spaces earlier this year. Last night was the premiere of the episode. She reserved part of the Plaza level at Whole Foods, rented a big 12' x 9' screen and a projector, and she and the others on the show invited 175+ of their closest friends to come watch it with them. It was awesome. Everyone bought food and beer and wine from the store, and there were tons of kids and the playscape was right there. The Geej had a blast, and the episode was really great. We didn't get home until after 10pm, which is super late for Geej.

Went to the grocery store this morning, and The Geej saw an old lady cruising by on her Rascal scooter and said, "Motorcycle. No. Noise. Off." Apparently, she was confused.

But the best moment of the weekend happened after we got back from the grocery store. I was unloading groceries, and she was toddling around yammering about God knows what, and I said, "Okay...yes, baby...whatever." And quick as lightning, she stops, looks over her shoulder, and clear as a bell says, "WhatEVER." She sounded like an extra from the set of "Clueless." Oh my GOD!! Hearing that come out of the mouth of a 22-month old with such ATTITUDE brought me to my knees laughiing, which of course made her say it about 50 more times. HiLARious.

Mom's still in Vancouver. I guess she's managing to have some fun, although yesterday when she called, it was to bitch about the fact that one of The Dingbats has lost the keys to the rental car, and now they were having to wait for a new set to be delivered via water plane (since they're out on an island), and that it was going to cost $175 to get them replaced. When I asked her if she was paying for any of that fee, she said, "FUCK no!" That's my mom!!

Friday Show and Tell and some other stuff.

So Blackbird wants to see our least favorite piece of furniture? Well, okay. But it's really ugly. So beware:

Yes, it's the very desk at which I write most of my blog posts. Don't you like how you can see Blackbird's page open on my laptop? Nice artistic touch, don't ya think? Anyway, the story with this fugly piece of "furniture" is that I had a desk that was even crappier than this one (if you can imagine) that was a hand-me-down from my aunt. When I got my d-i-v-o-r-c-e and moved into my divorcee townhome, my mom decided to surprise me by buying and then putting together this desk for me.

Um...thanks?

First of all, yes, I hated the hand-me-down desk and had mentioned that I wanted something different to her. But no, I didn't expect her to go get me something. Especially something that I wouldn't have picked out in a million years. I hate how big and clunky it is, and with my new set up in this house, the fact that you're FORCED to sit on the left side of the desk is problematic. So, as soon as I can find one that I like to replace it, this sucker's going into the storage room with "garage sale" written all over it.

In other news, I have to show you my new favorite t-shirt:

It's from the sick minds at Homestarrunner.com, and no, it doesn't make a lick of sense. Which is precisely why I like it. (Is it just me, or does my rack look ENORMOUS in this photo. Geez, Karla May! Put those things away!!)

Finally, I read this quote today on the Vladivostok News site I check periodically:

"Currently there are more than 12,000 neglected children and orphans in the Primorsky region, Primorye Television reported. Every fourth of them lives in children homes, orphanages or boarding schools, which receive inappropriate financing."

The Primorsky region is where The Geej came from. I cannot begin to tell you how much reading this sentence rips my guts out. 12,000? In one region? My God...

It's about time...

...for one of Karla May's famous "Random as all Git Out" posts about nothing and everything. Put your thumb on your mental remote, 'cause we're about to channel surf the deep recesses of my mind.

The Old Cat
Well folks, she's hanging in there. I gotta say, I'm surprised. I mean, if you'd asked me in early April if she was going to see June 1, I would've said no way. But she's just kind of leveled off--not getting any better or worse. And every now and then, she's even a little feisty. So who knows? She may be around for months to come.

The Young Girl
The Geej has been a bedtime dream ever since we moved into this house at the end of November. In our other pier-and-beam 50s hardwoods house, you could hear everything that happened in every room, no matter where you were. The Geej is a light sleeper, so she woke up constantly. I had to walk on eggshells, and it still didn't help. But since moving here--with our concrete slab and carpeted floors and split floorplan--she goes to bed and STAYS asleep like a dream. No tears, no struggle, no midnight crying jags. That is, until about a week ago when she started WAILING LIKE A DEMON FROM HELL every night when she's put to bed. It's messed up. I'm hoping its a phase, but I don't know...

Work
Work has been very interesting the last couple of weeks. Our poor team--who has been leaderless and pretty much directionless forever now--finally got some news about our direction, and it's GOOD news. We're all so relieved. Yours truly has a shitload of work ahead of her, but I welcome it. I think it's all going to result in good things.

Cheryl
Well, as you may have read, my mom and I made up. I gotta tell ya, it was an epic argument. I honestly think it's going to alter the way we communicate with one another from now on. It was intense. But we worked through it. I hope. Now she's off on a trip to Vancouver/Victoria Island that she didn't really want to go on with two other retirees that she refers to as "The Dingbats." I mean, I seriously don't know their names. Anyway, she got there last night, and called me just a-bitchin' about The Dingbats. I swear, sometimes I think she invents these situations precisely so she'll have something to complain about.

Mr. Wonderful
I miss him so bad it hurts. But I get to see him next weekend. Him, and his two boys. And his brother and sister in law. And their two kids. And his mom and stepdad. Who? Me? Nervous? No!

Miscellaneous
Can I just tell ya'll how much my friend Jaye kicks ass? You can get to her here or here. That bitch motherfucking SHAVED HER HEAD this week. She's giving cancer a big ol' middle finger, and I am in awe of her.

I got my 2" roots and shaggy mane taken care of today. It feels so good to go from skanky to fabulous in just a couple of hours.

My goddamned garage door opener decided to quit working. (I'm so freakin' lazy...)

Earl has woken me up twice in the past week by snoring very loudly. It's so obnoxious. I wake up and am like, "What's that wheezing growly sound?" And then I realize it's him...all lying on his back and shit, taking up 1/2 of my queen size bed. I have to shake him like a fat old drunk to get him to stop. Little bastard.

I am contemplating another tattoo. I'm really sort of craving one. It's weird. I'm researching some designs. I'll keep you posted.

Okay, I know I've got lots more in my brain, but this is it for now.

Nigh, night.