Archive for Uncategorized

I’m bout ready to scream

So last night me and The Man got into over the phone. Partially it was my fault. I should have been more clear on where I was going and what I was doing (I was going to a local restaurant for a get together for a local group I’m sort of involved with). I had also forgotten to talk to him about it last week, mostly because I was dealing with the start of The Kid’s school year (and needing to get clothes for her), and burying my aunt and all that would come along with that. Add to that the fact that me and Mo got into it at work because the drawer was short $15 (it was short $11 when I came in that day) and I wasn’t sure that I was going to still have a job by the end of the week; yeah I was a little stressed.

Not only that, but I’ve been neglecting things that I really want to do. Me and my bestfriend decided to start up our own book review blog. Well, it was sort of my idea and I talked her into doing it with me. I was going to come up with the basic review format and do the ratings, but now that The Man is home and using the comp more, I rarely actually get ON the bloody thing except late at night. By then I’m too damn tired to do much of anything, certainly not to sit in front of photoshop and piece together images.

Then there’s Second Life where I’m an assistant manager at a shop (yeah crazy right, I’ve been employed more on Second Life since last October than I have in the year and some months that I was actively looking for real life work). I’m basically the main person she counts on to do their job and I’m barely on for more than a few minutes to delete and answer messages. And as weird as it may sound, being that I’m talking about a virtual world, I feel bad that I just don’t have the time to do the simple work she needs me to do.

Speaking of The Job. I’m getting paid off the books. I don’t really get this, but apparently ALL the staff is getting paid off the books. How in the hell do you run a restaurant, with all its expenditures, and not have staff on the books? Dish washers? Ok, I can see that. Maybe even a cook or two. But we’re open 7 days a week for pretty much 12 hours a day. You gotta have at least one cook and one waitress on file. That place is a massive IRS audit waiting to happen. And The Boss is insanely cheap. I got yelled at yesterday because a table ordered a large Greek salad, but the two people there ran out of time, so I gave them two boxes. They were splitting the salad (which was obvious if you saw the fact that the salad was in the middle of the table between the two people). The Boss waits for them to leave and goes off.

“Why did you give them two boxes?”

“Because they are splitting the salad.”

“No. It’s one salad, one box.”

“No. It’s two people, who were both eating the salad, they had to go so they get two boxes to split the salad.”

“One salad, one box. She called here, order to go, but eats here (note: she called ahead because she was going to be between classes and didn’t have a lot of time, I put her order in as to go but told Cook, in front of Boss, that it was to eat in).”

“You were standing right there when she called the order in. She’s at school right now (there’s a university right down the street) and had a break between classes so she and her friend came in to eat. They ran out of time and wanted to take the salad with them. They were splitting the salad to begin with, so of course I’m going to give them two boxes. She paid for her food, and tipped me ($5 on a $14 bill…36% tip, I’ll ride and die for that chick). What’s the problem?”

Boss just huffed after that. He really couldn’t justify being cheap about two people splitting a large salad (our large salads can easily feed two people, or be a full meal for one). We’ve also gotten into it about bread (only with hummus, but not with baba ganouj [WTF?] and only two packages for a medium order, no matter how many people are eating it; if they want more, charge them), and refills on drinks (anything besides water, wait until they ask, don’t refill it automatically). I ignore most of these rules. Because of the way waitstaff wages are caculated (restaurants are only obligated to pay at least $2.65 an hour because we get tips that are supposed to make up the difference and add up to minimum wage; legally we’re supposed to declare our tips and log them and if our tips that day don’t make up for the loss then we get paid extra by the owner…but then again this isn’t exactly a totally legit operation) I can make more in tips than I would from my check.

Just FYI: Waitstaff don’t make living wages. They have to bust their hump extra special hard to make ends meet. Don’t be an asshat and not tip at least 20% (unless your waiter/tress was just THAT bad). We don’t live in Europe where being waitstaff isn’t looked at as badly as it is here and they get paid decently. And if you’re one of those fuckers who go “Well you knew what you got paid when you took the job, should have found one that paid better.” remember that shit when your boss passes your ass up for a promotion or denies your request for a raise.

Some folks honestly do enjoy working waitstaff. It’s hard (especially on the back, legs and feet), but you meet new people everyday, no two days are ever exactly the same. You can’t say that for cubicle life. Me, personally, I love being waitstaff, but I can’t work big restaurants. I learned that at the last place I worked. It’s too much stress for me to handle (well I wasn’t on anti-deps then so who knows). I’ve been working food service in one way or another since I was 15. I love food and all that it represents. I once considered going into culinary arts, but, again, the stress…I don’t think I could hack it.

The problem with me is that I take too much on. I have no clue how to leave well enough alone and become invested in things. Then life takes its course and I find that I’m over my head and struggling to stay afloat.

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I figured out how to share my google reader share list..dur hur hur

yeah yeah…laugh at the slow girl. Fine.

But I figured out how to share my google reader share list with people other than just Sumayyah. So…I’ll share it with you.

Yes, those are ninjas at the top.

http://www.google.com/reader/shared/11683481833220666268

Black folks, gather ’round. We need to chat.

Now, before I start let me say, I love the black blogosphere. I really do. Intelligent, witty observations, sitting side by side with insightful commentary dealing with everything from world politics, feminism, religion, all the way down to local happenings. I love it.

However…

Some of ya’ll…you’ve gone off the nut this week. So let’s chat a bit, shall we?

The Obama Father’s Day speech. If it doesn’t pertain you, your father, or the fathering style of your male friends..why be upset? Yes he did it while campaigning for President. Yes it reeks of political game playing. But was it really wrong? Was anything he said actually incorrect?

Not from what I heard.

Though I will say, I hope that, after they’re elected, Michelle Obama does a Mother’s Day speech that goes after Baby Mamas the way Barack went after Baby Daddies. In all honesty, it needs to be done. It’s long over due.

Let’s stop deifying single mothers like they’re infallible. Please. I don’t mean all single mothers. As someone who has friends and relatives who are/were single mothers, I can say for certain there are many who deserve nothing short of sainthood.

However the ones I’m talking about are the Baby Mamas. The ones who make good single mothers cringe. The ones who take their child support payments and use it to get their hair and nails did. The ones whose kids spend more time with Grandma than they do with their own moms; not because she’s out working her ass off, but because she’s out shaking her ass at the club. The ones who lie to Friend of the Court and use their children as pawns to manipulate fathers who, otherwise, would be more than happy to be in their child’s life as more than just a name on a check. The ones who spend more time looking for a man to “take care of” them instead of taking care of their children.

These triflin heffas need to be put in check. Being in ownership of a uterus does not give you the right to reproduce just for the hell of it or to manipulate someone.

Forget about the father for a moment, consider the child in the middle of all this. You bring a life into this world for petty and selfish reasons, lie to it, manipulate it, expose it to a parade of temporary daddies and “uncles” but never to its birth father. Basically you treat this life like an object; like some thing with no thoughts, no feelings, no desires, no wants or needs. Just a thing for you to use, and, if you don’t get your way, use against someone. You take a blessing and twist it into a punishment. But then can’t figure why, for the life of you, men don’t want to stay around your triflin ass. Why they’ll screw you but not marry you.

Yeah, these chicks need to be chin checked. Hard.

I love my single parent sistren and brethren who take care of their kids. Seeing you juggle all those responsibilities and wear all those hats give me hope for this sad excuse we call human kind. I love single fathers who struggle to be more than just a Baby Daddy, especially in the face of a Baby Mama who does everything in her power to make it hard for him to be even that much. It’s heartbreaking to hear stories from men who want to be there for their kids but the mothers block access to them unless they play by their rules.

So I say, whoever the next First Lady will be (please God not Cindy McCain…if she can’t be trusted to not lie about a damn cookie recipe, I don’t think she can be trusted to do anything this important), she needs to do a nationwide address calling out Baby Mamas and demanding reforms in the legal system so that it stops leaning so heavily towards the mother always being the victim of some unscrupulous man’s penis.

This weekend sucked

Not all of it. We finally got the tax return (turns out it got delivered to a house around the corner with the same house number, and since both of our streets start with the same letter…*shrug* we get a lot of their stuff too). H sent me out shopping. And The Kid was off with her Grandma J (my MIL) for the weekend.

All of this, plus the great weather, should have added up to an awesome weekend. Not when you’re me it doesn’t.

Two of my closest friends were in a funk (and still are) all weekend. One friend, I’m trying to get her husband to remove his head from his ass so that he can finally see that she needs help. I’m getting close but he wanted to whine about how hard he’s having it. Well it’d be a damn sight easier if she wasn’t beating herself up, now wouldn’t it. sigh People can be so flippin short sighted.

Then there was MT. I know he doesn’t come up much but check the Cast of Characters page. MT is one of my best friends and closest confidants and I knew he wasn’t in a good place but I didn’t know how bad it was until I checked my email this morning and found a note from him talking about he’s been lying in his bed all day playing with his gun (he lives in the deep south out in the woods…he basically needs a gun). My heart sank. Partly because I’m something of the cause of MT’s bad mood. (long story, SO not going into it here).

I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’m not helping anyone anymore. People come to me for help and I show them the path for them to be able to help themselves but no one seems to want that. They want me to do the work for them and I can’t. I would if I could, but that’s not my path to travel. But no one seems to care about that. They all just want the easy way out. Hell I want the easy way out. But there is no easy way out. There is just life and all that comes with it, and God knows life ain’t easy.

I think I’m going to tune out for a while. Focus inward and start some of the healing that needs to go on in there anyway. My spiritual life is a mess and my personal life will be headed down that road if I’m not careful.

There is no such thing as a fun day of shopping when you’ve got big bewbs

So today H sent me out into the world with his debit card (WOO HOO TAX RETURN!) and told me to pick up a few shirts that are weather appropriate. So I merrily skipped along to Old Navy (trying to get more bang for my buck and not look like I just waltz out of the thrift store…though I do enjoy second hand shops). And that’s when the merriness stopped. Like a screeching halt just in time to prevent a collision with a mac truck stop. Shirts, by and large, are not made for women who have big busts and smaller waists. As discussed before (f.ck you, find the post called BEWBS! yer damn self), I’m a 36DDD. This means the top of my tops has to be a large (or extra large depending on the cut) while everything below the boob-area can be a medium to large (again, depending on the cut). However, shirts are not made like that, unless you’re ordering from Bravissimo, and I just don’t have the sort of money that let’s me pay for something in £s (the British pound is worth about $2…so just double the price of everything and there you have it) and have it shipped from the UK to here.

This means a lot of rack diving and store hopping to find the right shirt that doesn’t strain at the bust or look like you bought it in the maternity section.

Old Navy was a bust (no pun intended). Everything was cut low, haltered and made for skinny bitches who don’t have 36DDD puppies to keep in line and thus can go bra-less (*deep breath* I don’t hate skinny girls…I don’t hate skinny girls…I don’t hate skinny girls).

So I hit Dress Barn…where the sizes aren’t quite what they say they are. I found a few shirts on sale (YAY SALE!). One was a 3/4 length shirt with a cute print on the front and back in French about bicycles. The only size they had was a medium and I’m hoping that it stretches a bit in the wash or else The Girls may make an unexpected appearance one of these days. The other was a great button down with an attached belt. It took three tries to find a shirt that fit properly. The medium gave the clear threat that if I so much as yawned the tiny little plastic button that just barely held my shirt together at the bust was going to go flying and put someone’s eye out. Large was more subtle; it gave the message that even though it fit right everywhere else, the strain on the button at my bust threw up a big red sign that read “I really wanted this shirt and am willing to ignore the fact that it doesn’t fit right across the boobs just so I can have it.” Not good. So I had to go to extra large. If it weren’t for the attached belt, the damn thing would still be on the rack. Sure it fit perfectly across the bust, but without the belt it’d look like I had grabbed it from the maternity section.

Sigh

Next stop was Marshall’s. Yeah that was a joke. Off to Plato’s closet. Ok, before you go on about how I’m wrong for being just this side of thirty and shopping in a second hand store that specialises in juniors clothes just one thing: kiss my ass. I get my clothes cheap and if I have to go digging through racks of clothes that make me want to weep because an extra large is barely big enough for me to breathe in…I will.

I grabbed a few shirts there, tried them on, and put them back. On my way out the store a long white Indian style tunic with silver embroidery caught my eye. Extra large and $14 (it was J Crew so it probably cost the original owner over $30). I said screw trying it on, snatched it off the rack and slapped down the cash (well, debit card) for it.

I also dropped by WalMart (which I usually avoid because…well because it’s WalMart and WalMart is the devil), and for some reason their plus sized women’s section is three times the size of their regular section so I moseyed over to the mens section and found an awesome Lynard Skynard thermal for $5. SCORE!

I skipped home merrily, trying to ignore the injustice that there are a ton of cute shirts out there that don’t fit because I have big boobs.

I do the same thing when I return home from jeans shopping. The day I buy a pair of jeans without the booty gap will be the happiest day of my life.

Unconscious Mutterings

It’s that time again. More word association from subliminal.lunanina.com

  1. State :: restate
  2. Lively :: conversation
  3. Valet :: parking
  4. Traction :: friction
  5. Official :: document
  6. Red hot :: Chilli Peppers!
  7. Powder :: movie about a really pale guy who looks suspiciously like micheal jackson*
  8. Replies :: responses
  9. Flagrant :: violation
  10. Tweet :: rockin robin

*Hey she says you don’t have to just use one word. And that’s what I think of when I see powder.

Feh

Comcrap is acting up so my cable is out until….

Well basically until they get their shit together and fix it.

Wait…WHAT?!?

Leave it to the military to come up with something like this. I’ll admit, some of their past projects have been cool (like the heat ray for instance…I still want one) and others have lent themselves to hours of gut busting hilarity (gay bomb anyone?). But this…this is just…*shudders*

According to Engadget, the Department of Defense is setting up research to look into regrowing body parts. You know, like some lizards and worms do.

Except humans aren’t lizards or worms. Well…some humans are worms, but not in the literal sense.

The DoD is obviously out to create a super soldier. They’ve already sunk money into research that will keep soldiers from feeling the effects of fatigue so they can stay in the field longer with less sleep (never mind those harmful results of sleep deprivation…what’s a little psychosis amongst friends). They’re also doing research on advanced robotic limb replacements that will have all the fine motor skills that real limbs do…and then some.

They’re going to do this under the cover of helping soldiers who have lost limbs or have been shot. But let’s face facts, since the end of the draft they’ve been having a hard time recruiting kids, and with the never ending war going on, they’re having an even harder time getting and keeping soldiers. So if your troops can spontaneously regenerate limbs (which, I have to admit, is cool in an “I used to read X-men and wish I was a mutant with powers” sort of way), then you won’t have to worry about shortages due to lost limbs. Of course this research could be used to create perfect-match organs for people desperately in need of transplants, but, and I’m just being honest here, that sort of technology would only be available to the richest of the rich who can afford it. The other 90% of people who need it will have to pray their insurance will cover it or hope that some charity will take pity on them and help.

Now, the part that really scares me (aside from the images from Terminator II-when the liquid cyborg kept regenerating himself after being shot in the head-that keep playing in my mind), is that this sort of ability is genetic. Salamanders don’t learn how to regenerate. They just do. It’s part of their DNA. For this sort of technology to be used in the military, they’d have to find a way to alter each soldier’s genetic structure, and hope that there are no unintended consequences (like a squid-soldier who has seven arms). Doing each individual as they come in would be costly, and inefficient. And while the government and military seem to only function when they are costly and inefficient, eventually they are going to start “testing” on the general public. Which makes me think that No Child Left Behind will become No Fetus Left Unaltered after a time. It will be voluntary at first, of course, but then it will become compulsory. Or worse, they’ll just do it without the mother’s permission anyway. She can’t say anything about it once the baby is here right?

Yeah I know, that’s worst case scenario, gloom and doom type talk…but let’s be honest, if they find a way to do this, it won’t be long before this sort of thing plays itself out. We’re a country where the vast majority of our tax dollars go to military spending (more than education and health care combined in fact). We are, essentially, a military state. Our only recourse, our only known way to assert our will, has been through force. Since the first settlers dropped anchor. Hell, since the Conquistadors dropped anchor. If we backed off our military spending, we’d eventually be seen as the paper tiger we are. If African countries got themselves together and organised, they’d make us their bitch (talk about reparations). Hell, eastern Europe could take us, as disorganised and that area is. So we have to keep spending. Making out military bigger, stronger, faster (and whatever else they said in the beginning of the 6 Million Dollar Man).

Can you see the snowball?

Ok, I admit, I sound like a crazed conspiracy theorist. And I’m honestly not. I just like seeing the pros and cons of things and this has a lot of cons. Like a lot a lot. It’s not like our government and military are renown for their ethics. Especially when it comes to the medical field.

Anyhow, I can’t see this sort of technology actually being usable anytime in the foreseeable future. And those ranting, raving, foaming at the mouth, ultra religious right wingers wouldn’t allow for experiments to be performed on embryos, especially not when it comes to tampering with DNA and genetics. They’d see it as playing God and would raise Hell (how ironic) like no one’s business. Huh…maybe they have a use after all.

Further proof that God has a twisted sense of humor, part 2

I have caught my daughter’s cold. The Kid started having sniffles on Monday and yesterday I found myself getting stuffy.

So, running along side my insomnia, I now can’t breath, which means even when I’m tired I can’t sleep.

*sigh*

Insomnia sucks

and that’s all I’m going to say about that. © Forrest Gump