One day...

One day I'll find a job that I can stay with until I'm ready to retire. I will, I know it. I won't be some strange vagabond chick for hire, gallivanting around endearing myself to my co-workers then leaving in a blaze of glory for that greener grass across the fence.

Right now, I'm in some serious need of a job where the rules and policies are clear and concise and everyone agrees to abide by them. A place where hard work is rewarded, crappy work is punished, and everyone at least pretends to haul their own (especially if the higher ups are around). I can't deal with the prima donnas who are worried about nothing but making themselves look good, and have no qualms at all thrusting the knife in the minute your back is turned.

Until I find that magical job, I promise myself I will stop believing I'm responsible for everything that is going on. I will do what I need to do, let everyone else worry about themselves and their responsibilities, and just keep my head down and my mouth shut. Well, at least for the rest of the day...

Happiness is...

Happiness is a warm ice cream cone cupcake on a blustery day. Srsly. Trust me on this one.

I tried to eat my lunch outside today, as I usually do. I was extra excited about it, because blustery fall days are my FAVORITE days to be outside. Sadly, it was SO blustery I had to go inside. My monkey lunchbox almost blew away.

(oh, the huge manatee!)

I felt much like Piglet on that glorious Windsday.

Randomness from the Welcome Desk

"Peaches, come here. You know, you're being really hurtful to me"

You know what's really hurtful to me, lady whom I don't know? That you're calling your rather large (roughly 11 year old from what I can see) son peaches. That, lady, is pain.

You know what else is painful? Manpris. You know, guys who wear pants and roll them to the length of capris, their their tufts of crinkly leg hair jauntily poking out under the cuff. Please, stop the madness guys. Manpris are wrong!

I was a library jezebel

Yep, a library Jezebel. Me, with my jiggly plus-size body and my full-bodied Katherine Hepburn pitched laugh. A supervisor has actually warned a gentlemen about "fraternization" with me, because "you are both married, and well...."

I'm not exactly sure why it is inappropriate for two coworkers to have a laff while going about their "look, I'm doing my job" type business, but hey, I feel rather risque and dangerous being a Jezebel. Because, quite honestly, I've always been the comedic relief in the story that is my life. At least from my point of view. I'm not hideous, but I certainly don't embody that which is vixenkitty-esque. I am much more likely to be laughing over a fart joke than casting a come-hither look while batting my eyelashes.

They like me, they REALLY like me!

I had an interview at a branch of the public library. I was on all 1000watts, I'm telling you I sold it to the friggin cheaps seats, ladies and gentlemen. And you know what, the day after my interview the CALLED AND OFFERED ME THE JOB!

I'm sorry, you didn't catch that? I'm free. No more struggling to assist a woman who has the charisma of a lion but no experience in her position and no desire to learn how to do anything. No more going to work when I'm not getting paid to be there. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I get to pee whenever I dang well need to, because I'm a big kid now!

Anyway, on a serious note, I feel this new position will offer me the chance to expand and grow proffesionally, in a way that my current job is unable to offer. I also feel that the polices upheld by the supervisors at my new position are more in line with my own beliefs as far as what I am willing to offer the public. Also, they'll be paying me GOBS more money, and I can wear jeans on Fridays. Oh, did I mention I don't have to beg for a bathroom break like a victim of the Spanish Inquesition? Why the Spanish Inquesition? Because NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISION! NOBODY!

So, um, yeah. That is all.

Take this job and shove it

I used to love my job. I still love the kids and I still love books, but working for the public school system has turned me into a raving lunatic. It has become a nightly ritual for hubs to look across the dinner table at me and say "Just quit."

"I Ca~an't!" I wail, thinking of the steady paycheck and the priceless ability to be with the kids whenever they are out of school.

I give all I have to my job. I work from the minute I step in the building to the minute I walk out the door; always smiling. The kids flock to me, because they know I care about them and want to hear what they have to say. And, well, I'm one groovy g33ky goddess. Truly.

But the bureaucratic bullshit that happens inside the "ol' schoolhouse" is truly something I can't stomach. Why can't I be a better ass kisser? It's truly the only way to get ahead.