I AM SLEEPING

Is it inconsiderate of me to expect that people who know I work 12 hours on Friday at one job and then 10 hours overnight Fridays to not freaking call me three times Saturday afternoon?

Work Crap

Tonight, I am going out for dinner with my boss and coworkers. I don't want to go. I don't want to go to the nth degree, and if it wouldn't make me look just a wee bit undignified, I would stomp my heel, and cry a little over it. Since I am home alone, I could very well indulge in that behavior and no one but me would be the wiser...

A couple of weeks ago, one of our clients had some major issues, resulting in a lot of calls for us. So they sent a thank you letter. And tonight, boss is taking us out to thank us. This is all well and good.

What is not so good is that I am not really into socializing with my coworkers. Running down the list, we have:
2 people I truly dislike,
1 person who makes Kendra from the Girls Next Door look like a Rhodes Scholar, who can also not speak below the decibel level of a jet plane during takeoff
1 who has more mental issues than I do (I know!!!!),
1 person I like but who will probably not be there, and who is crotchety and very loud
1 person that I do like
and, the boss. I have worked at this job for 6 months and have seen the boss about 6 times. This is because I works nights Th-F-S, so I call her my invisible boss.

We are going to The Outback. A steakhouse. I am trying really hard to stick to the vegan diet. I called the restaurant yesterday, and they do not have anything vegan. I will end up with a salad, but will have to specify no egg, no bacon bits, no cheese, and please for the love of god no mushrooms. Not cause they aren't vegan, because mushrooms are evil and I hate them. I also do not want to be part of a big discussion I have already heard, many times, about why I am vegan, and "gee, I could never do it", and blah blah blah, live in Texas, state point of pride to eat meat...

Texas also still has smoking/non smoking sections, and because several workers smoke, we will be in the smoking section. Oh, and did I mention that the boss is paying for drinks as well?

Everyone else at this job has been there for 2-20 years. Again, I have 6 months. Not only do I not fit in, but I do not want to fit in.

I hate feeling this way. The boss called yesterday to make sure I was going, and announced where we were going - I just knew there were plans to go out, not where. I am such a bitch at times and can be very strong, but not on the important stuff, and I am not very good at just saying no. And I know that I could, theoretially, call the boss and say that there isn't anything on the menu that is vegan, and I am not comfortable going and watching people chow down on animal flesh, which really does nauseate me, but I don't really feel like I can actually do that.

I work for a very small company, which is extremely casual, so it isn't like I work with clients who expect to see me there, or that my attendance could mean the diff. between being made partner in a firm. But if I didn't go, I think I would be discussed at length (my god these people know how to gossip!) and that I would feel left out.

Then again, how much of this is just that I am really depressed, and uncomfortable, and hate any sort of change? Going out would probably be good for me, but I need different people to go out with. And going out with work people and people who do not know me well really does take quite a bit of effort. To keep smiling and making cheerful polite conversation for 2 hours is just a chore for me right now. I will not be discussing politics, money, mental health, family, or any books (cause this is a non reading group of mouthbreathers), or the cats at great length.

So yeah, I am totally Debbie Downer and feeling sorry for myself right now. Tomorrow will be better, right?

On the positive - and you didn't think I had a positive side didja?- I am trying again with FLYlady. www.flylady.net I have had the book for over a year, and made a lovely control journal, and then wondered why everything wasn't perfect. Yeah, the working at it part is what tripped me up. Gets me every time!

I made my bed this morning, and I am going to put away the clean dishes when I am done posting. Last night I made me habit forming reminders. Instead of using post-its for reminders, I got 4x7 cards with plastic photo sheets to cover them. This way I can keep them from getting humid and wrinkly in the kitchen and bathroom, plus they look pretty. And because the printer is way neater than my writing.

I do need to watch this though, since I do have perfectionist tendencies, and then I get overwhelmed and think that if I can't do something absolutely perfectly, then I shouldn't do it. So, I am taking the necessary baby steps. Wish me luck. Tonight at The Outback, and with FLY-ing.

I hate the DMV

Remember when you were a kid, in kindergarden, and you would willingly smile for the school photographer, and loved picture day? The school photogs in my school always used to call us all something, like Princess, or Strawberry Shortcake, or something else. We would all giggle and compare names we had been called.

Welp, then you grow up. You may or may not realize you do or do not photograph well. And you are not so quick to grin at anybody with a camera, least of all the DMV. Texas is the most primitive state for driving. In Pennsylvania, for instance, all of the testing and pictures are done on a computer. The BMV there was clean, and still slow, but efficiently slow, if you know what I mean. Then I moved to Indiana. Tests there are given on a xerox of a xerox of a xeroxed xerox. Little circles to fill in on a number two pencil, and graded by people with possibly an 8th grade education who enjoy lording their position over you. But at least the pictures are computerized, and you can look before it is finalized.

Not so in Texas.

Last week, I decided it was high time to transfer my license and car registration. I showered the night before and even slept with rollers in my hair so I could have a perfect glam look. I figure if I have to carry the license for 6 years, it may as well look as hott as possible. I got up the next morning and did a full makeup job, even putting the slightly sparkly white eye shadow in the corners of my eyes so they would look bright and cheerful in the picture. I wore a simple black low cut shirt and felt pretty good about the whole thing. Until I got to the DMV.

The wait time was not all that bad, considering. I got there, took a number, then saw a notice that they do not accept credit or debit cards. But they do accept checks and cash. And I had neither. On a quick aside, why would the DMV not take credit or debit cards? Wouldn't there be less risk of bounced checks and all that mess? Anyway, we left and drove to an ATM. When I got back, I still had just enough time to fill out the evil forms. When my number was called, the fevil (think about "fugly", and you get fevil) woman took my drivers license, social sec. card and birth certificate and whisked them away without explanation to have them checked by her supervisor. They apparently passed muster and she returned with them. Then she snottily explained that they would be ok, since the names matched. Well duh. I am not and have not ever been married. So the name on all three documents is exatly the same. Because this is a military oriented town, she had assumed that I had moved here to marry some GI, and had a maiden name issue. Had she checked them first, I would not have had to gothrough that moment of big brother panic.

Then she asked if I had a car to register. I said yes and she informed me, with no small amount of glee, that I would have to register my car first before getting my license. Primitive Texas Part Two. The DMV does not handle car registrations. That is in a separate building. Because thats logical and convenient. That wouldn't have been a problem, expect the whole reason I was going to get my license first was because I had no idea where I had put my cars title. So I went home and decided an afternoon at the lake would make me feel better. In the hunt for sunscreen (SPF 1000 for the lovely and pasty Glow White here) I found the title, on the shelf near the door so I wouldn't forget it...

I went to another branch of the tax assessors office, far away from the DMV with their evil employees and paid dearly to register my car. Keep in mind that I drive an ancient 18 year old Camry. Yeah, it's old. But, I have not had car payments in 10 years, it has slightly less than 130,000 miles, and oh yes, gets 30 miles to the gallon bitches. I love the MariaMobile. $172.30 to register my car. Plus inspection. $40 dollars alone was for the freaking sticker! Indiana does not require windshield stickers, only plate stickers, and annual registration there was less than $60. Considering this is the oil state, I expected my $40 sticker to come with an ounce of black gold, but no such luck. Some days I seriously hate the government.

So anyway, now that my car is registered, on Monday I am going to make another go at getting my license. I will re-do the hair, fab makeup and cleavage baring top. I will go to the DMV, wait in line, fill out paperwork, and get my picture taken. Then, I will get a piece of paper stating my license ison the way. 7-10 business days later, I will actually get the license. No picture ID inbetween, which means I will have to prepurchase the booze to erase the DMV memories. And I am betting that the DMV person deliberately trying to catch me with my eyes half closed will not call me an endearing name like Princess.