Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Hump It Like You Mean It

Humpday is upon us. All hail Humpday.

This Humpday is especially sweet because I'm off for four days straight after Friday. I decided to take a couple of days off that weren't for doctor's appointments or mammograms or anything else. The Amazon, who is off on Mondays and Tuesdays, is taking vacation on Saturday and Sunday, so we'll both be home to take care of some major tasks around the compound that neither of us can do alone.

We have pallets piled in the front yard and T.A. has part of them coated with water seal stuff. If we accomplish nothing else during those 4 days, we will be able to get them moved around back and stacked in to a makeshift porch. The hardest part will be digging the old broken steps out of the dirt, which were buried, compliments of Dubya and Ma.

Hopefully I'll be able to get those friggen raised beds in before it's too late... again and chop down a few smaller trees. We need to get more light in to the chicken coop. Sunlight = more eggs.

I have a list as long as your arm but I'm trying to be realistic. My body hasn't been very cooperative for the past year or so when it comes to doing anything major. Dr. Laurie used her pull to get me an appointment with a Rheumatologist on my insurance. There's only one and they're booked up for the next 12 months. Maybe they can give me more drugs.. or a swift kick in the keister.. whatever works.

Back at The Asylum, we've all moved beyond the wondering if we're being bought stage because honestly, what the hell else could it be? We've moved on to wondering about our seniority, vacation time and 401K nest egg.

It has to be better, right?

Anywho, ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!


I think I should get one of these for my desk.. perfect for The Asylum.. because I am the sales ninja!

Thursday, April 16, 2015

The Cubicle Asylum: The Plot Thickens Like a Pot of Hasenpfeffer

Wednesday morning began with the announcement of a meeting by Twatwaffle.

Speculation ran like wildfire through the office. There were already rumors being passed around (by me mostly) of an unscheduled inventory on May 1st. Thelma had let it slip when we were discussing who would do what to keep her job covered while she was on vacation in Colorado. We normally do inventory every October. 

Something was up.

We all filed in to the break room and took our seats while TW made her announcements in her exagerated executive hickified accent.

"I am 98% sure that The Germans are ready to make a substantial financial investment in us. Therefore, tomorrow morning we will be having company here to inspect the property and tomorrow afternoon there will be people from the state here. As you all know, if you were ready to invest a substantial amount of money in a business, you want to know that they have what they say they do."

She also said she'd been "up to her knees and elbows in due dilligence for months."

I'm still trying to translate that last bit.

On Tuesday, after everyone else had left, she went around the office counting phone jacks and making a list. 

One of the welders flat out asked if we were being bought. She raised her voice and changed the subject, talking over him.

Another asked if a "substantial financial investment means we'll get a raise.. finally?" To which she again, raised her voice, changing the subject.

Personally, I don't care what they do. I'm good either way. If they come in and fire us all, I'll cash in that 401K, pay off the house and ride my unemployment for a while. If they keep us, I imagine I'll tow the line a little bit longer. 

We'll just have to see what happens.

Now I gotta go sell those Robot Monkeys. No rest for the Sales Ninja!

Ya'll have a good one, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Monday, April 13, 2015

Mahala and the Gypsy

I was in Big City a few weeks back with time to kill before Ma's appointment at the bone doc. It was on the far side of town, an area I rarely get to, so I decided to loafer around and see what I could find.

I cruised down the main drag and after I passed all the big shopping centers, with their fancy Wally World and hair salons, I found myself on the sketchy side of town. I passed run down used car lots, thrift stores and discount shoe outlets. I spotted a Goodwill I didn't know about, where I scored a skull shaped cake pan for The Amazon. It makes cakes like this:

Awesome sauce!

Anywho, pulling out of the Goodwill parking lot, I spotted a tiny brick building that looked like it used to be a doctor's office, only it was covered with signs offering $10 Tarot readings. Some of you may already know that I used to do readings, I sleep with my cards by my bed and occasionally still use them.

But I'd never had a reading by someone else.

I had time and ten bucks, so I decided to give it a shot.

There was a tiny sign on the front door with Sheila's phone number. It said if the door was locked to send a text and she'd be right there. However, I didn't get a chance to send a text and was greeted by a chunky dark haired man leading someone out. He asked if I had an appointment, I told him no and he showed me the way to the waiting room. I followed him down the hallway, past a pile of junk mail in the floor, bare walls and very little in the way of decor.

Big Feller told me to have a seat and went to let Sheila know she had a victim customer. The room was small and white, with words written in large black script on the walls. They read "Happiness," "Love" and "Peace." In the corner there was a ginormous teddy bear, so ginormous that I could have sat in it's lap.

I was tempted.

I would have taken pictures, but in my excitement I'd left my phone in the truck. My mind raced, I was hopeful. I've been to countless psychic fairs & mystique shops, looking for someone, anyone who seemed legitimate, who didn't play on peoples insecurites and grief to make a dollar. I can't handle the wide eyed earth Mothers who see angels everywhere, waving crystals around wreaking of pachouli and weed.

Not that I don't think there are others around us, whether you call them guardians, guides, angels or spirits. I just tend to think of them in a more practical way.

I really didn't have high hopes for this roadside psychic either. I guess I just wanted to see what would happen.

Sheila walked in to the room about five minutes later, wearing a sweater pulled tight around her nightgown, no bra, barefoot. Her hair was short, blonde with black roots and had been quickly assmbled in a clip in the back.

She had obviously just gotten out of bed. It was 1pm.

She led me into another room with a table in the center, we sat and she introduced herself, offering her hand, which I took. It was like shaking a cold overcooked lasagna noodle.

"I do tarot, palms, tea, whatever you want," Shirley explained.

"I just want the $10 card reading."

"Oh that's just a sample. A tarot reading is $50." And here we go, I thought.

I explained that I didn't have much time and was on my way to an appointment. I told her that I'd be back another time for a full reading, but I already knew what I'd come to find out.

Her eyes were down cast as she said, "Someone is jealous of you. Their energy is preventing you from being successful. You need spiritual work done to reverse this. I can do spiritual work for you here. You don't even have to come here, I can do it remotely."


"There is someone you are in a relationship with.. but you are not yet committed to one another. I can work on this for you."

"Um, I've not been in any kind of "relationship" for a long time." She wasn't just way off base, she was out in the parking lot.

"Maybe you do not know yet. Maybe he does not realize it yet, but there is someone who wants to git wit you. You must let me work on this for you."

Yes, she said "git wit you." Her accent wasn't thick, but she had one.

After a few minutes of her trying to convince me that I was in serious spiritual danger from all sides and that for a charge she could fix this for me, I thanked her and told her I needed to leave for my appointment. I pulled out my debit card, which in retrospect was pretty stupid, but it's what I had. Sheila made sad face and told me the machine worked but gosh golly gee, it wouldn't print a reciept.


"That's ok, I'll just watch you run it." Which I did, then walked around paranoid has hell for two weeks, afriad I'd have a $200 charge show up.

I left disapointed.

I've always believed there are others watching over us and I've had enough experiences to convince me it's true. I'd just like to find someone.. anyone.. who can validate that I'm not losing my noodle.

Ya'll know it runs in the family.

Anywho, back to the grind. Ya'll have a good one, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!