We went on vacation, which consisted of many hours of beach time and precisely zero hours of true relaxation. But that's the way we like it. Every year I take my daughter to surf camp. She loves it. She's pretty good too. When she actually tries to get up and isn't making excuses. But that rant is for another day.
We went to Jax Beach, which is our general place to visit because I have so much family there. Plus, I never have to rent a room. Which makes it like the cheapest ten day vacation anyone could ever have. And I'm frugal if I'm anything. Or poor. Either way, cheaper is better. Also, not the point of this post.
This year, we took several newcomers. Three to be exact. Three people who have never been to that part of Florida. One who had never seen the Atlantic before, but she is only 9, so I give her a tad bit of leniency.
One of the newcomers was my friend, Shelley. One evening, after being on the beach all morning and part of the afternoon, we decided to go "downtown" to visit a few shops and spend some money. Well, the whole evening started out with me having to use the potty so, so very bad.
While everyone was visiting a shop, I walked across the street to a restaurant to see if they cared if I used their restroom. Since they were so gracious, I decided to buy a drink from the bar. From that point, I should have known it would be an interesting endeavor, but no. Why would I listen to my instinct? How dare that conscience tell me to just drink my drink, pay and walk away?
Normal people would drink their whiskey and ginger ale and leave a nice tip and go back to join the rest of their group. I am not normal. I called them over, told them the drinks were great, the menu looked awesome, and the place wasn't crowded, so our rowdy little girls wouldn't be able to disrupt many. This is where it went bad.
All of us, four young girls, three adult women, were enjoying our food and drinks outside on the patio when a few dumbass guys joined. Our first thought should be, "who in the hell walks over, sits down at a table where three women are eating, and just joins in their conversation?" That wasn't our thought. My mind was on ordering another drink. Their minds were on, well, I'm not sure.
One guy, who was apparently flaming, was the worst one upper one could ever imagine. I was so distracted by him saying things like "I know the owner of that store, you girls should take those shells back and we'll go get some for free off the beach." And, "when I was swimming with sharks, one came up really close and scared me so much that I actually walked on water." I was so distracted by that, I missed things like him being a crossdresser. And one of the girls saying "but I bought a blue starfish?" As if to ask if there are any blue starfish on the beach just hundreds of feet away. She surely hadn't seen one earlier that day.
When he was talking about walking on water, I wanted to ask him if he were a carpenter. He wouldn't have even understood, so it's probably best I didn't take a chance to be snarky. After we got home, since my gaydar is out of batteries, the children informed me of his stories of crossdressing. Which I apparently hadn't even bothered to listen to. Yeah, this guy, not appropriate for kids. At all.
The other guy, well, he was busy hitting on Shelley. To the point that some time during the evening, he opened his pants so that she could see his schlong. Now, the word schlong here is rather misleading as it contains the word "long." And I'm not usually one to bash on a man's size since it is genetic, and well, my genes made me have like the ugliest feet I've ever seen on any non-neanderthal. Either way, it isn't the fact that this limp was a shrimp. It is the fact that he is apparently so proud of his friend that he decided to show it during "girls night out." If you have the nerve to show off your sausage, wouldn't you rather it not be a vienna?
In the end, we all learned a few lessons. 1. I suck at knowing who is gay or straight. 2. Random guys at restaurants that are so tactless that they will interrupt your not-so-cheap dinner are probably not the type of people that should be allowed around children. 3. Feet size are definitely not an indicator of penis size. 4. Family vacations with Meg always, always have at least one night of total hilarity.
The good thing about this was that we laughed and had fun for ten whole days. There wasn't one day where I didn't laugh my ass off about something. Even if it was because in the back of my mind I couldn't wait to tell you guys about limps and shrimps.
Your Sun-kissed,
Meg
P.S. This post really does no justice to the awesomeness of that one evening.
P.P.S. Eat more chocolate.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
L I B...
That is a very southern version of another probably southern term. "Well, I'll be..." is probably what you were thinking when you saw a new post. Maybe not exactly "well, I'll be" but probably some other form of it. And I agree. I have been gone for sooo long, and I have so much to share. I can't put it all here, though, because most of it is unrelated and trying to put all of that into one post will just make you want to gouge out yours eyes.
However, first things first. Please forgive me. I would say I was away doing things typical Southern Belles do, but anyone that knows me would call bullshit and I really hate liars. I was busy, though.
I went to my great-grandfather's funeral and was stung by a bee. At his funeral. I have bad luck. My niece came and stayed for a while then I traded her for another niece. I was promoted to supervisor which is the dumbest thing any employer should ever do. I went on vacation. And the other half of this dangerous duo is sick. Again.
Whew, that wasn't so hard. Maybe congress should hire me to shorten their convoluted proposals so maybe one will get passed once in a while. There were a lot more other insignificant activities here and there, but that is the gist of my absence.
My new job: I was promoted to supervisor. It is possibly temporary. But everything is temporary where I work, so who knows. What I do know is that I have seven minions under me. That is seven employees who rely on me to shape their minds and do their annual appraisals. Yeah, they are doomed.
I am working in a new office where only about half of the people knew me before I came, and even less of them knew anything personal about me. I prefer to keep it that way. I prefer to be mysterious. Ok. I'm lying. I'm really an open book, and very very loud and talkative. And apparently my reputation precedes me because one of the newest employees in the office is on my team and she said "I heard you speak your mind."
My response to her is a prime example of why I should never be a leader. Of any kind. I set a bad, very sarcastic example. But I said to her, "show me an auditor without an opinion, and I'll let you pet my unicorn." Now, "unicorn" was not a euphemism for anything. At all. So keep your minds out of the gutter. However, this was supposed to teach her that as an auditor, I'm essentially paid to have an opinion. And since I've been opinionated (unrightfully so) my entire life, this job is essentially perfect for me. The second best option would have been to study law. And I hate Latin, so that was out of the question.
There have been other conversations with new hires, and other auditors, that have led me to believe that either I'm perfect for a supervisory position, or I'm so wrong for the position, they may just keep me there on a permanent basis. Only time will tell.
Tim: We haven't spoken much of what has caused him to be a gimp, and I don't want to go into a lot of detail, because I was hoping he would write about that for himself. But, he has an infection in his lungs again, and this never turns out great. Usually it leaves him weak, and tired, and very, very sleepy for weeks on end. It almost seems that he never recovers 100 percent either.
But this time is different. This time, we don't have to rush to the hospital and stay there for days on end. This time, he gets to stay home and use the aide of nurses that come to his rescue any time he needs them. This time, he gets to sleep in his own bed. In his own PJs. Watch his own TV.
What I want us all to do, what I request you to do, say a little prayer for him. For his family. For his friends. Now, Tim will say that he is Atheist and not to pray for him. What he doesn't understand is that you don't have to pray to God. You can pray to Gaia. Mother Earth. The Cookie Monster. You don't have to be religious to pray. You don't have to be religious to be spiritual. Just please do it. Pray and wish peace and health on not just Tim, but peace and health for anyone that you know is in turmoil. Anyone that isn't. Anyone that deserves your well wishes.
Thank you.
Your Not-So-Southern-Belle,
Meg
P.S. Next time, I will report on limps and shrimps. You have been warned.
However, first things first. Please forgive me. I would say I was away doing things typical Southern Belles do, but anyone that knows me would call bullshit and I really hate liars. I was busy, though.
I went to my great-grandfather's funeral and was stung by a bee. At his funeral. I have bad luck. My niece came and stayed for a while then I traded her for another niece. I was promoted to supervisor which is the dumbest thing any employer should ever do. I went on vacation. And the other half of this dangerous duo is sick. Again.
Whew, that wasn't so hard. Maybe congress should hire me to shorten their convoluted proposals so maybe one will get passed once in a while. There were a lot more other insignificant activities here and there, but that is the gist of my absence.
My new job: I was promoted to supervisor. It is possibly temporary. But everything is temporary where I work, so who knows. What I do know is that I have seven minions under me. That is seven employees who rely on me to shape their minds and do their annual appraisals. Yeah, they are doomed.
I am working in a new office where only about half of the people knew me before I came, and even less of them knew anything personal about me. I prefer to keep it that way. I prefer to be mysterious. Ok. I'm lying. I'm really an open book, and very very loud and talkative. And apparently my reputation precedes me because one of the newest employees in the office is on my team and she said "I heard you speak your mind."
My response to her is a prime example of why I should never be a leader. Of any kind. I set a bad, very sarcastic example. But I said to her, "show me an auditor without an opinion, and I'll let you pet my unicorn." Now, "unicorn" was not a euphemism for anything. At all. So keep your minds out of the gutter. However, this was supposed to teach her that as an auditor, I'm essentially paid to have an opinion. And since I've been opinionated (unrightfully so) my entire life, this job is essentially perfect for me. The second best option would have been to study law. And I hate Latin, so that was out of the question.
There have been other conversations with new hires, and other auditors, that have led me to believe that either I'm perfect for a supervisory position, or I'm so wrong for the position, they may just keep me there on a permanent basis. Only time will tell.
Tim: We haven't spoken much of what has caused him to be a gimp, and I don't want to go into a lot of detail, because I was hoping he would write about that for himself. But, he has an infection in his lungs again, and this never turns out great. Usually it leaves him weak, and tired, and very, very sleepy for weeks on end. It almost seems that he never recovers 100 percent either.
But this time is different. This time, we don't have to rush to the hospital and stay there for days on end. This time, he gets to stay home and use the aide of nurses that come to his rescue any time he needs them. This time, he gets to sleep in his own bed. In his own PJs. Watch his own TV.
What I want us all to do, what I request you to do, say a little prayer for him. For his family. For his friends. Now, Tim will say that he is Atheist and not to pray for him. What he doesn't understand is that you don't have to pray to God. You can pray to Gaia. Mother Earth. The Cookie Monster. You don't have to be religious to pray. You don't have to be religious to be spiritual. Just please do it. Pray and wish peace and health on not just Tim, but peace and health for anyone that you know is in turmoil. Anyone that isn't. Anyone that deserves your well wishes.
Thank you.
Your Not-So-Southern-Belle,
Meg
P.S. Next time, I will report on limps and shrimps. You have been warned.
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