Redefining Normal

As much as I'd like to tell you I've always embraced the flight of my freak flag, the truth is I've strived for normal. My goal has always been to look normal, act normal, anything to shield the world from my own little internal shit storm.

You get up, go to work, get your paycheck, pay your bills, go home and go to bed. Rinse and repeat, Monday through Friday, add a little partying on the weekend and voila! Somewhere along the way, you find a significant other, go forth and multiply, grow old together, sit around farting and scratching until one of you dies... you know.. life. 

I'd already given up on most of "normal." I no longer need or want a significant other and my breeding days have long past. I was trying, however, to hold on to the working part of normal, at least to some degree. I've accepted that it's going to be damned near impossible for me to find a regular job, less than an hour from here, which, unless they're going to pay me a doctor's salary with my G.E.D., isn't going to work. 

I was determined to find a work-at-home customer service job like I had before, but companies with positions available either require newer computers or faster internet, two things I can't do anything about right now. I've applied to a total of about 8, I've been through three interviews and offered two jobs, but there always seemed to be a roadblock. 

When you keep running in to a brick wall, it's time to change lanes. 

In the meantime, I've been struggling with my sleep schedule. It's not insomnia. I can sleep, usually right around 8 hours a day, but not at night. Today I was up at 4 p.m. I have taken all kinds of crap to try to make myself go to sleep earlier. I've stressed out to the point of crying, because how can you find a job, working a set schedule, when you can't get up? 

So, I've been thinking about normal. Is it abnormal to sleep all day, coming to life just as everyone else is settling in for the night? 

Probably.

Is it worth getting in a wad over? Absolutely not. 

Since throwing my hands up and admitting defeat over the work-at-home, slave to the phone job, I've been exploring a freelance writing career. I had to finally admit that the phone thing wasn't going to work anyway, with Fat Kitty soaring across the room like one of the Flying Wallendas, landing on the back of my chair and chewing on my hair every five minutes or Ayla spotting a hiker out of the kitchen window and going all Cujo.

I may not have kids, but I don't have a "quiet office environment" either. 

 I've been writing for one company, off and on, for a few years. The pay has been, well, terrible. There was no way I could make a living wage from it, but I was recently offered a few, more profitable opportunities from them. 

It's a sign ya'll.

I've also applied to another company that provides blog posts to large companies, whose forte' may be more nuts and bolts than a flair with words. I've been through a multi-leveled approval process and am currently waiting for news on the final step. The pay is good and writing blog posts? I can do that.

At least, that's what ya'll keep telling me.

I've also got an application in with a company that does internet research for corporate accounts. Again, I went through several testing steps and am currently waiting for the final word on the last step. I have no idea how it pays, but getting in seems pretty competitive, so fingers crossed.  

Most importantly, what better job for a middle-aged-vampire-hillbilly? Write all night, sleep all day. I always have been kind of a night owl anyway.

Admittedly, I think the problems I was having with... as T.A. and I call it... The Beetis... is what got my sleep all kittywampus. Slowly, it's getting back to normal. Well, normal for me. 

But wait, there's more!

In addition to all those plans, I've got a new blog in the works. I played around with some "blog for profit" type formats before, but I was still an inmate at The Cubicle Asylum then and didn't really have time to do it properly. I'm planning a Gypsy/Boho Style site, I'll let you know when I get it up and running. 

I know, ya'll are over there like... "Mahala has a new idea every two weeks. IT'S GETTING TIRING AS HELL."

I know ya'll. I know. 

But my unemployment runs out in September. Something's gotta work.

Anywho, ya'll have an awesometastic, booty kicking, chocolate lickin' weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Learning to Chill by Quoting Bobby Singer

It's Friday night in Frog Pond Holler, late for those of us who've reached a certain age. This is a good time to look back on the past week and take a look at what's been going on.

I filed my taxes yesterday, just my federal. After finding out I owed over $1800, I decided I'd wait a day or two before tackling my state taxes.

A body needs to digest.

Also yesterday, I found out that I'd missed the boat on that work-from-home customer service job. On Tuesday, when I plugged up the landline in preparation for the training session, there was no signal. The jack I used last time is dead. I could have used my cell for the training, but in the testing of lines and phone jacks, swapping cords and jiggling plugs, I somehow managed to break the internet.

I called customer support. They had me reset the modem, restart my computer, unplug stuff behind the desk and under the bed. I was contorting my body into positions that were not intended for human beings to be in unless they happen to be masters of the Kama Sutra.

And I so am not.

We finally got the innerwebs back up and running, but I missed the training session completely. Yesterday I logged on and found that I'd already missed most of the training and that there wasn't any way I was going to catch up.

Plus, I still don't know if I can get the phone to work.

I may have freaked out, just a smidge. I really wished I hadn't paid them $65 for a background check. I went kind of nuts, scouring the internet for a similar type job, that didn't require a landline. My desk looked like a crime scene, tissues strewn everywhere, spilled coffee, ink pens that had been flung in aggravation.

I eventually got over it, though. I had to just walk away from the computer,  take a few deep breaths and remind myself of what's important.

When the crap starts hitting the fan over stuff I can do absolutely nothing about, I remember this scene from Supernatural.



This is my favorite and absolutely the most gut-wrenching episode of the series, especially if you're a mother of daughters. Or a daughter. Or HAVE A FREAKIN' SOUL. When Bobby (played by Jim Beaver, on whom I may have a bit of a crush) asks Dean, "What do we do next," it reminds me to stop freaking out, get my shit together and keep going.

Anywho, so today I focused on writing articles. I've written about applying for disability, Vinyasa yoga, dog treats and substance abuse. They take me longer than they should, but I try to get the absolute best score possible. Hopefully, that will lead to better paying opportunities. Articles will keep me afloat until my first unemployment check comes the week after next. Then I'll have a little bit of wiggle room to explore other options.

Having a spaz attack doesn't solve anything.

This weekend is the big trail thingie in town. I'll try to remember to charge my camera (It's a Samsung WB1100F in Red that I bought when I cashed in my 401K,) before I hit the hay so I can bore ya'll with pictures of freaky hiker hippies next week.

I know ya'll can't wait.

As for now, Sammy's asleep on my leopard print jammy bottoms and I still need to jump (gently) in the shower.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Well Damn

Some of you already know I quit the jammy job last week. The Readers Digest Condensed version of reasons is weeks of a drastic reduction in the amount of hours available to work during the hours I could, the realization that their definition of customer service was hanging up on or cutting off little old people who were sad and lonely, being offered 8 hours a week and having those 8 hours spread out over 10-12 hours only on Saturday or Sunday ... I could go on and on. Anyway, I quit.

I sat down last night and figured out my bills based on my Cubicle Asylum paycheck. I set up all my credit card payments on auto pay, figured out how much would be left for groceries and made my mind up to climb out of this cavernous ravine I've been wallowing in for years.

It would be tight, but doable.

I decided I'd devote my off time to my Etsy shop, I have loads of ideas for awesome stuff and creative things. I also decided I'd write a book.. re-decided. For real this time. Not just A book, but a series of books on different subjects from my life, collections of short stories.

Back at The Cubicle Asylum, it's been crazy busy. Quitting the jammy job would free me up to work some overtime, which in turn would help with the moolah dealio. Sales are good, me and Sparkles are swamped.
We can't keep up with the phone calls and quote requests. Maybe I'd even ask for a raise.

And then...

Starting next week we're cut to 32 hours a week.

WHAT THE FUDGE SAUCE???

Sparkles was livid. He was all... "I need you here. I need you with overtime. I need you here on overtime plus one more person part time. THIS MAKES NO SENSE."

I looked at him and said, "Know what? It's their game, their rules. Nothing we can do. Karma's a bitch. They'll find out the hard way."

It boils down to greedy corporate officers. We see the numbers. It's all bullshit.

So .... thank God it's Friday. I'm going to rest a while, make some iced tea, later I'll grill me a dirt burger and smoke one of  my high fallooting organic cigarettes. Then I think I'll have some bunny quality time.

Bunnies make it better.

Ya'll have a good one... cuz it's all good.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters.

Of Pits and Manberries

It's a beautiful day Frog Pond Holler. The air is crisp and the sun is shining bright, reflecting the glistening moisture remaining from last night's rain off the fresh, new grass. The aroma of cut lawns, burning brush piles and just a hint of unwashed hiker armpit, wafts gently on the breeze.

Spring has sprung.

In other news, I got my federal refund the other day. A great rejoicing could be heard from inside my little trailer down in the holler. The first thing I did? Made an appointment for the bunnies to get a little snip-snip, because even though they are both male, yet have never fought and I don't have a female around to worry about them gettin' in the family way, being male? SWEET JEHOVAH THEY PEE ON EVERYTHING. They pee on the walls of their hutch, on my porch, ON EACH OTHER. I hope this helps. Hell, they even managed to pee on the CEILING of their hutch. 

HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?????

So tomorrow morning I get to load them up in a giant plastic storage bin (because really, how else am I going to haul to ginormous rabbits to the vet?) that has a big hole cut in the top, which, in true hillbilly style, I will cover with some chicken wire and duct tape. 

The box has a hole because it was originally a Pinterest DIY project for a better cat litter box. A project in which Kitty refused to participate. Apparently she does not know the value of being a team player. 

I guess tonight, since I'm off from the jammy job, which, by the way has turned in to cramming 15 hours work in on Saturday and Sunday because the most I can get now during the week is an hour, I'll try to get the bunnies cleaned up and brushed a little so they don't look like dirty little orphans at the vet tomorrow. 

There is lots more going on, lots of projects I've got going including painting, repairing, chickens, pygmy goats and all kindsa crap. I'm planning before and after posts, which I'm sure will be the most boring posts ever, unless of course I impale myself with a power tool or get flogged or somechit. 

Which is more likely than not.

Anywho... 

Sparkles is out on sales calls so I'm unsupervised and practicing my sales ninja skizzles, so I'd better get to it. 

Ya'll have an awesome day. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

At Least There's Ice Cream

I wasn't very productive at The Asylum today. Not that I'm ever a nominee for employee of the week, but I usually manage to accomplish something.

I think the problem started over the weekend. Due to a sudden lack of hours at the jammie job (I worked five last week) I've gotten a crap load of house work done.

Until Sunday.

First, the light blew in the kitchen, which kinda skeeved me out 'cuz I'm on season four of Supernatural and that's how all the freaky shit usually starts.

I'm still kinda jumpy being here by myself at night. I should probably watch Oprah or something instead, but anywho...

The bunnies were hopping around the house, stretching their legs and trying to take over my bed. I was gathering up trash to be taken out by The Amazon when she got home and heard a weird noise in the living room.

Did you know that bunnies LOVE to dig? They especially love the big, fluffy, white pieces of litter in their box. With the help of the ceiling fan, the living room floor looked like the Bunny Slope at Aspen. As I swept up THAT mess, I noticed that Reginald's front feet were awfully dark and dirty. Apparently they enjoy digging in cold fireplace ashes as well. He found the old pot on the corner of the hearth and went crazy in it.

I decided it was time to put the bunns back in their pen, leaving the ashes on the floor until I was done. I came back in just in time to find Kitty, who's box had been in need of attention for a day or two (yes, I am ashamed) squatting to pee in the ashes. On the floor.

In the meantime...

I'd been doing laundry all day. As the last load reached the rinse cycle, I heard a gurgling in my bathroom. Water was filling the shower (there's no tub) and out into the floor. Before I could get to the washer to turn it off, there was a half inch murky, icky backwash running across the floor and down in to the vent.

I finally said effit and went to bed.

I got up to take a shower the next morning. My bath rug was soaked and musty smelling. Kitty decided it would be okay to pee on that while I fixed my hair.

Later that day, I spent my lunch break taking the trash to the dump because the bags never made it to the curb Monday morning. Then, after work I drove to the grocery store because we were out of everything and I had to wait for payday to go... so yeah.

I wasn't worth a shit today. I probably won't be for the rest of the night either.

At least there's ice cream (it's okay, it's sugar free.)

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Of Bunny Fluff, Shady Pines and Trying to Get it Together

Kitteh Kitteh Two By Four

Lawd have mercy. It's Friday.. we made it.

It's been a wacky week in Mahalaville. Luckily there's been a lull in hours at the jammie job, giving me a chance to catch my breath. I say luckily until I get my check.. but anywho...

I sold two bags of "Little Bunny Poo-Poo" and an ounce of Angora fiber, which is awesome. Sparkles and Peppermint Patty were totally grossed out but they'll get over it. I told Sparkles that it simply proves that I am a marketing genius.

So then yesterday I got a call from Shady Pines saying they were going to sit Ma out on the curb if they didn't get a check and I was all like.. "oh shit" because I've not paid the bill in some months.

Not because of the money, it was just sitting there in Ma's checking account. I just hadn't thought about it.

I've been having problems keeping up with things lately. Let's just say I'm behind.. on life.

Today I did manage to mail my federal and state taxes (finally,) the order for bunny fluff and a check to Shady Pines. I've almost got my truck payment caught back up from the whole brake line brouhaha and my bedroom is starting to look a little more "Victorian-Gypsy-Shabby Chic" and a little less "Extreme Hoarders-Special Report with Diane Sawyer".

Maybe I'll get my shit together.. eventually.

I'm looking forward to the weekend. I have to hit the road early tomorrow and head to the weirdo eye doc to pick up my new glasses. My prescription didn't change from last year, but I took some old frames to have some computer specs made. My bifocals are about as useful as a chicken with a chainsaw when I'm working either job.

After I pick up my specs, I'm going to run by the nail salon, try NOT to stop and coo over baby chicks and ducklings at the farm supply place and head home for a fun filled weekend of housework and laundry.

It's an exciting life I lead here in the holler. I can't hardly stand it.

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

Mahala's State of the Holler Address

We're all still a little Cray Cray here in The Holler

Let's get caught up on stuff and things, kay?

Working Commando

I'm becoming a little disenchanted with the whole "sell-overpriced-stuff-on-the-teevee-in-your-jammies-for-minimum-wage" job. I'm thankful to be able to work from home without spending money on gas and the opportunity to work in my skivvies with a pup at my feet. I don't know what I'd be doing for money to make ends meet without it, but honestly? They have kind of an asshole way of treating employees.

And I worked for Bossholio. I know that of which I speak.

Let me clarify first that it's not the actual tv shopping company that gives me grief. It's the third party outfit I'm  employed by.

First, it's the emails. Email is the preferred method of communication by The Company. I have never not shown up for a shift, but suddenly we're getting these long, threatening emails every week detailing what will happen if we fail to log on. It spells out how the Big Boss checks at the start, middle and other intervals throughout the shift to see who's not shown up and to decide who to block. It seems to me that if you can do all that, you could do some copy and pasting of email addys and send the email to those to whom it applies.

Just a thought.

Also, five minutes after you get the threatening email, you get one begging for extra help for the night. It kinda puts a damper on your willingness to help.

I had to stop going to the discussion boards. It was constant public fights between the Big Boss and anyone who questioned why they got blocked, usually ending with the BB threatening to publish the employee in question's schedule adherence stats on the boards.

The opposite of professional.

We are supposed to keep all our calls to less than three and a half minutes and when you're taking sales calls, which is what we're supposed to be doing, it's not a problem. However, we're not supposed to transfer calls to Customer Service, even when they request customer service. We're supposed to handle it ourselves. I'm not sure why you HAVE a customer service department if you can't transfer calls to them, but whatever. Trying to figure out what Sally Mae ordered when she doesn't even remember, then after spending 10 minutes questioning her and doing item searches only to find out that she meant to call that other channel... all while having a flashing warning at the bottom of your screen telling you your call is too long... seems a bit much... even in your jammies.

I'm currently under a deadline to improve my sales. I need the job, but I'm not going to stress out over it. I do the best I can and I'll just deal with the consequences if that's not good enough. It'll be fine.

I am the sales ninja.

Life Without Zombies

It's been over a week without satellite and honestly, I don't know why we even have it. The Amazon doesn't get home from work until after midnight every night and I work so much through the week, I can't watch it either. This weekend I've figured out that between Netflix and Hulu, there isn't much I can't watch.

Except The Walking Dead. I miss Daryl.

Also? I found out this morning that there's a whole new season of Touch I didn't even know about. I LOVE THIS SHOW. I am currently getting caught up on the serious lack of Kiefer Sutherland there's been in my life.

How's The Weather Down Yonder?

It's spring in the holler, which means the days alternate between colder than penguin snot and omg wtf is up with this bewb sweat already? Right now, the sun is shining, I've got the back door open, ceiling fans going and we're under a winter storm watch. They're predicting a few inches of snow by Tuesday afternoon.

I hope the power doesn't go out, but if it does I've got some extra wood in the backseat of the truck that I've been riding around with for two weeks.

Meanwhile, Back At The Asylum

I love Sparkles. Not in a I-wanna-jump-his-bones kinda way, but in an OMG-THE-BEST-BOSS-EVER way. I tell T.A. he's Sparkles the Magical Unicorn. If he knew I called him that, he'd be horrified. It's not all glitter and ice cream all the time, I mean, sales are down this month and sometimes he walks around looking like Grumpy Cat but there's a sense of  us being in this thing together and trying to figure out what to do to make things better, instead of how it used to be, which was all "COMPASSION? I DON'T NEED NO STEENKING COMPASSION!!! DO IT SLAVE!!!

I no longer have to take medication to get through the day at work. That kind of says it all.

Speaking of Medication

I'm back on the WHERE'S MY EFFIN COLCHICINE MOTHER FECKER??? roller coaster.  I still get it free, when I get it. The company that makes it changed distributors and the new distributor isn't on Dr. Sexypants "e-scription" list. The new company keeps telling me that they sent a Rx request to Dr. Sexypants' office and Dr. Sexypants' office says they haven't seen anything and I'm trying to call them both, spending a big chunk of my life that I'll never get back in automated telephone system hell. Why the crapdammit they can't call each other is beyond me.

In the meantime, I've been rationing the remaining pills, taking way less than I'm supposed to and as a result I've got a serious case of the Rice Crispy joints. I couldn't use my thumbs this morning. You need thumbs. Have you ever witnessed a seeing eye dog make coffee? No. Why? BECAUSE YOU NEED THUMBS, THAT'S WHY.

I tried to load the dishwasher this morning. I was juggling plates like a circus performer.

I'm calling them tomorrow. I might have to get ugly.

Anywho, it's getting up in the evening on Sunday night, so I'd better hunt up some dinner and try to settle in and get ready for the snowstorm... and the rest of the week.

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

Divine Intervention and Walking Dead Girl

It's been a week full of snot churning, belly aching and hacking up assorted vital organs around the Mahala house. The Amazon was kind enough to bring home a bug, one that I skillfully avoided for almost a week before waking up Saturday morning feeling like an extra on the set of The Walking Dead. I called in sick yesterday, to a boss who told me to please take care of myself and feel better, which almost made me weep after 7 years of Bossholio. I drug myself in to the office this morning. I felt like I had magical powers as I walked down the hall and watched everyone magically move out of my path, like I was spewing plague mist out of my eyes like lasers.

It didn't go well.

I felt kinda guilty for taking the chance that I'd infect everyone else, but my desk is piled high.

I'm pretty sure I have the flu.

I ended up leaving at 4 to give myself time to recover before starting a shift taking calls from 6-9. In the meantime, I developed a hellacious headache.. you know.. the kind you get when you've been hacking unproductively for hours and you feel like your left temple is bulging out like something from The Elephant Man.

Anywho, all systems at the Taking-Calls-But-Not-Porn company were clusterfucked into the 12th dimension, someone took the phone off the hook at the Call-This-Number-24-7-If-You-Need-Help line and the Send-An-Email-If-You-Can't-Get-Through page was crashed. I finally got into the We-Can-Try-To-Help chatroom, which, as you can imagine, was flooded with people having issues. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure the whole reason I couldn't get in was not because of the known issues, it was because my THREE passwords had expired yesterday and although I'd reset them, I'd written them down and with my throbbing eyeball, I'd gotten them mixed up and proceeded to get myself locked out. This can only be fixed by calling the line that no one was answering because, I'm pretty sure, all 600 or so operators were calling because of the fore mentioned clusterfuckery.

After about an hour and a half I decided it was Fuck this Shit o'clock and I logged off, puked for thirty minutes then settled in on the couch.

I'm feeling much better at the moment.

~*~

If you're my Facebook bud, you know I bought fishy last weekend. His name is Ludwig Von Beta-toven. He lives in a 2.5 gallon little tank with some gothic church ruins on top of the t.v. I am a dork. I've learned to embrace it.

~*~

About three weeks ago, The Big Headed German called to congratulate me on paying off the first of my 401K loans. I had taken it out to make the down payment on Jolene when I was desperate for a vehicle and broke. It meant another $25 a pay check.

Right after Christmas I got another call, this one from a collection agency. That credit card company that pissed me off when my world went all kittwampus had apparently decided we needed to end our relationship. At first I got defensive, but then I was like.. okay look, shit happens, I did the best I could. What do I need to do to fix this? So Kathy, the nice lady at the collection agency offered me a settlement for $2500. WHAT a coinkidink. That was about how much that 401K loan was for. I told her I'd look into it and get right back to her. The most I could get was $2300, but I couldn't apply until x number of days had passed, after January 1st. I called Kathy back and she said she could make $2300 work IF I could secure the funds by January 7th, because on that day my account would cycle (apparently credit card accounts get Aunt Flo.)

I got the loan approved and a check in hand by the 6th.

I don't care what ya'll say, that right there was some Divine Intervention.

~*~

Anywho, I reckon I'm going to try it again tomorrow, so I should go see if I've got some clean pants to wear.   If not, I'm might just find some stuffed in a corner somewhere, hit it with the lint roller and some febreeze and take my chances. It's not like anyone's gonna get close enough to smell me anyway.

Ya'll take care. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

Tweet

Humpin' in The Holler

A light snow fell in Frog Pond Holler Saturday night, leaving the ground with a light dusting, like powdered sugar on warm gingerbread. It also turned cold. Very cold.

I am no longer bitching constantly asking "where's winter?" I found it. Good Gawdalmighty.

Things have been kinda busy around the trailer, with Christmas and the two jobs and all the critters and the shopping and ...... well ya'll get the idea.

I just mailed pressies to the Long Lost Daughter house today. Seeing how they didn't make it to the post office until six days past Christmas, I'd say they're gonna be late. I asked the cocky chick at the post office if she had like.. a time machine or some crap.. but she said no.

Ya'll will be happy to hear that life at The Asylum has taken a complete turn from the time of Bossholio's reign. We laugh. We yack. We get stuff done. No one gets mad. It's like The Twilight Zone, without the creepy music.

Speaking of music, I can listen to the radio at my desk again. It makes me happy.

I've gotten in the habit of bringing the bunnies in on Saturdays to let them romp around the living room. I bring their little pewp box in and so far, there have been very, very few accidents. I put their blanket in the floor and they hop around and hang out. Occasionally Cicero will lower his head, thump and charge at Yoda, sending the little yapper scurrying across the kitchen floor with his eyeballs bugged out so far they look like they may go shooting out of his head.

Cracks. Me. Up.

The cat keeps an eye on them, but has no desire to get anywhere near them and Sammy doesn't care what's going on, as long as he has someone to scootch his hairless butt up to.

Ayla has to stay outside during bunny time.

I still haven't managed to get them to the vet and I know I'm pushing my luck. Two males sharing a hutch are probably going to fight eventually, if we don't go for the snip-snip pretty soon. Knowing this, I wasn't surprised, but yet still amused when I looked down to see Cicero stretched out on the floor snoozing, then Reginald casually hopping atop him and doing the bunny hump with a passion.

"Pssst T.A.," I said, pointing to the lurid display of brotherly love taking place right in front of the Christmas tree.

"What.. what.. NO NO NO!" T.A. lept to her feet, scaring the urge right out of Reginald, picking him up to her face and scolding him. "That is very naughty. It's okay if you want to hump another boy bunny, but not your brother, that's just gross."

That's my kid.

Anywho....

It's New Year's Eve and I'm an hour and a half in to a 3 hour shift with the "Over-priced-crap-you-can-prolly-get-cheaper-at-Wallyworld-but-not-on-a-payment-plan" company. I'm trying to get 6-9 M-F, or as close to it as I can. 15 hours a week should be enough to keep the lights on and stop any more collection agency calls. Plus, I'll still have my weekends to do other stuff... or pick up some extra hours here and there.

We'll see how it all works out.

When the clock strikes nine, I'll feed critters.. maybe nuke some soup or something.. and stretch out in front of the bewb tube. Tomorrow, my only plan is to take my $50 gift card (from Sparkles!) to the OrganiHippyMart for groceries, then come home to lay around.

I have loads of other crap to do, but laying around is all that's getting done. And a 3 hour shift tomorrow night.. but that's working on my butt in fluffy pj pants..

I want to wish all Ya'll a big ol' Happy New Year direct from Frog Pond Holler. Be careful, drive safe and if you plan to bump uglies with Mr. (or Miss) Right Now be sure to wrap that rascal.

Later Taters!


Tweet

Working Commando: A Job Without Bloomers

Lawd ya'll. You probably think I fell off the face of the earth. Well I haven't, you're not getting rid of me that easy.

So, the work at home thing finally panned out. I took five (count'em FIVE!) tests to prove my worth, began taking calls about two weeks ago and instantly forgot everything I'd learned. It's slowly getting better, but there at the beginning, I thought I was going to have a complete and total breakdown. Now I rare back in my chair while I suck up to little old ladies who are trying to squeeze just one more pair of pleather stretchy pants out of their credit card, like an old pro. (I am the sales ninja.) It's kind of fun, I get to talk to people from all over and trying to keep the average call time down to the goal determined by the powers-that-be, is almost like a game.

It's been challenging to figure out a schedule, what I can and can't handle after a day at The Asylum, how late to work, etc. Here's what I've decided: No more than two hours and no later than 10 pm on any given week night, preferably 6-8 when possible. On Fridays, when I'm off from The Asylum and The Amazon is home too, I try to get my two hours in before she gets up. If there are any premium hours offered later in the day (they can range from $8-$12) or if TA plans to be out, I'll grab a couple more. Saturdays are a repeat of Friday. I think I deserve at least one whole day off, so I've elected to make that Sunday. Sunday mornings are already booked with traditional Sunday morning things and that night is my main t.v. night. (A girl has to have some entertainment in her life.) "Once Upon a Time" at 8, "The Walking Dead" at 9 and "Homeland" at 11.

Priorities, yo.

So far, I can't take more than 2 hours at a time (I start getting twitchy after about 1 ½,) but you pick your schedule in 30 minute increments, so you can get 2 hours, take three off and work 2 more.

Now that I've got gotten it all worked out into something somewhat regular, I can hopefully get back to blogging and crafting a little.

I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU.. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW.

I mean, there's weird stuff going on at The Asylum, Sparkles is rattling some cages, Jasper WALKED OUT and like.. OTHER STUFF.

I'm going to try like hell to get us all caught up. Ya'll stay tuned. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!!


Tweet