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The Queen of Sheeeba
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Complainy McPrincess is the name I've given a woman who struts around in 7 inch heeled boots, sprays Lysol every time I sneeze, has asked for a raise at least 5 times since she's started about 7 months ago but, even though she only has 250 work orders. The top amount of work orders one person is supposed to have is 300. I've consistently have had about 310- 315 for over a month. When our boss re-assigned Queens from me to her she complained about how overworked she was and how she could not possibly handle another area. With her cutsey-squeaky voice and big, teary eyes and her soooo cold eat-a-ham-sammich skinny ass who wore a big honking wool scarf today even though it was 78 degrees and runs her heater until the vice-president told her she had to stop-- last week in the middle of May. Can you tell I can't stand her by how much I'm complaining about her?

Still, I keep my complaining to LiveJournal.

Then there's Yarnie. She's the one who flipped out on the bus. I kinda feel bad for her because made a very bad first impression bugging out on the bus like she did. She is a little rough but she isn't that bad. She's Yarnie because I defended her hair as her own-- not realizing it stretched down past her ass and had the consistency of yarn.

Still love what I'm doing. Love that I have goals and I get to meet how I want so long as I meet them. Love that I get to meet and surpass them using my own skills and initiative. I'm the bomb and everybody knows it!

A new girl started on Wednesday. On Thursday me and two other co-workers were on the bus on the way home like usual. The bus was crowded and we were in the back when another car hit the bus. The bus driver got out and had a conversation with the woman who hit the bus. They both turn a corner (out of the heavy traffic of Stewart Ave. The woman who hit the bus keeps going, never to be seen again. The bus driver gets out of the bus and calls the police.

Well! New girl (we'll call her Yarn Hair cuz that's what her loooong extensions look like) loses her fucking mind! She starts yelling and cursing and threatening to beat the fuck out of the bus driver. All the buses have a sign that says assaulting a bus driver is punishable by 7 years in prison. New girl:

You fucking pussy bastard! You're lucky I don't have seven years to spare cuz I would fuck your ass up! Get back on the bus and do your job! Drive you motherfucking DRAMA QUEEN! Fucking pussy bastard! I will KILL YOU!!!!

On Friday new co-worker was on the phone with NICE (Nassau Inter-county Express-- the bus company) complaining not only about the bus driver but about another completely different bus not stopping at the mall-- even though the bus doesn't stop there.

I have a cousin who I have recently reconnected with via Facebook. She posts a lot of pictures. One by one. She apparently does not know how to make an album or thinks everybody wants to see millions of pictures of people they do not know. I'm only exaggerating a little.

Yesterday she posted 20 pictures. Today she is up to 32. One by one. Filling my friends page with pictures of old fat Bostonians. Some are my family but most are her "ladies". I think they may be co-workers or church members. I don't want to unfriend her since she isn't doing anything wrong and she is the only contact I have with that branch of my family. Only I can't seem to be able to hide her posts. I can 'unsubscribe' but that only works for that one particular post. Where did they hide the hide button?

As I typed this post, she has added three more pictures. When does she eat?!!!

Of everyone who got fired-- 12 at last count-- George was the first to be re-hired.

Finished Chapter One of the romance. Which is kind of a cheat since I had the first 15 pages already written when I decided to go back to writing romances. And now it looks like I won't be having surgery* I won't have all that recovery/forced writing time. Let's see if I still have the willpower to finish yet another romance.

Blogged on my blog. I was only going to take a week off but it ended up being more than 3. And I probably would have continued to not blog if two somebodies hadn't asked me when my next entry would be. Because one person asking, well that's just politeness. Two people, well that's a landslide mandate of epic proportions.

Made jewelry. Haven't been doing much of that. Today I made earrings and. . . something. It's a thing with some some in it. Really, I don't know what it is but it's for sure some type of jewelry.

Took pictures. That's been holding me up. I need to take more. It's funny-- I love taking pictures and I love writing but I hate doing it. That makes no sense but that's exactly how I feel about it.

Put items in both my Artfire and Etsy shops. Along with creating a new "storefront" on Artfire called Handmade Miscellany which will house all my crap that I don't know what it is.

Researched jobs and even found somewhere to send my resume. Which I did.

Plus I did the dishes and swept the kitchen and dining room.

You know, I could conquer the world if only I could get up early in the morning of my own volition.

*Surgeon said to repair the one knee would take at least two surgeries, maybe three plus over a year of intense rehab and the gain from all this would be minor. When the knee gets all hurty and swollen, put it up, get off of it and take anti-inflamatories. Oh and come back in 25 years or so so that the knee can be replaced.

Good Eat's Refrigerator Pie episode was on Food TV the other day. It looked so simple I had to make some. So I made two kinds. First I fried some bacon while I caramelized an onion. That went into one pie along with sharp cheddar. Then I fried up some baby spinach in the bacon fat with 4 crushed garlic cloves. That, along with some Gruyere, made 2 pies.

That made 3 9 inch pies between 3 people. I'm happy to report me, Dany and Justin did NOT eat a pie apiece. When we went to bed there was a spinach pie left with only one piece taken out.

Always when I wrote before, I wrote in spiral notebooks (except when I did it at work at WFS Financial many, many moons ago. There I stapled my allotted scrap paper into little booklets) in sloppy cursive and then transferred that into Word. I had hoped to skip the handwritten part this time around and type directly into the computer.

Nope. Not gonna happen. But I have filled the used spiral notebook I got from Ebony. There wasn't much paper in it since she used it for school and ripped out the used papers when she was done with it, but I filled it pretty quickly.

I have to say-- this wastes a whole lot of time. Why do I stare blankly at the computer when trying to write a first draft of a story? It's a weird, freaky thing.

Tried to make money selling jewelry. Found that I can make a few dollars but not enough. I make just enough to pay for the hobby plus maybe my monthly beer bill. I did an intense round of resume sending and on-line application filling immediately after being fired but laid off of that when I decided to see if I could sell jewelry.

I wanted to jump right in to resume and applications again but. . . Dany wants me to get my knees fixed. And, truth be told, my knees will probably kill me one day if I keep on not being able to use them correctly. They occasionally fail in doing their most important knee duty of keeping me upright and so I'll fall for no damned reason. I can only take stairs one at a time like a baby and, most importantly, the hurt like a bitch most of the time.

It doesn't seem like a particularly bright thing to do to go to a job interview, tell them I'll need a few months off for knee surgery and then limp away down the stairs one at a time.

Today my house is as clean as it is ever going to get after my eight day cleaning, scrubbing and throw-it-all-away binge. I mean I did the two bucket, hands and knees (well, not on my knees, sitting down on my ass) sort of floor scrubbing on all non-wood/carpet floors. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and sat at my computer. Now what?

During my cleaning binge I found one of my old series romance novel manuscripts. Well, the first chapters of three would-be romance novels that I had sent to a professional editor waaaaaay back 15 or so years ago. By the time I had got it back I was already working at my first financial service job and didn't have time to deal with it. Well, I got plenty of time now!

So, when Ebony came down stairs today she found me with Word open pounding away.

"Are you writing again?"
"Looks like."

Really. She said "Yay!" It's stupid how happy that made me.

Anyways, I had three loosely related stories of the series romance type floating around in my head. One all the way written, one half written and one with snippets written but the whole deal outlined in my head.

I'm reading through what the editor I paid said and boy, do I have formatting problems. I had read up on this and thought I had it right. But nope. And the not-copy editing part of the editing was, well, edifying!

It seems the editor had very few problems with the first chapter (the one that came from the completed book), quite a few problems with the second chapter (the half-way finished one) siting things such as "you didn't think this through" and "where did this come from?" and the third she wrote "this is not ready for editing". This woman had done this a few times knew exactly what kind of crap I had sent her.

So. . . 150,000 words. Think I can get that done while I get my knee done?

New York in the '50s looks exactly like NY now except everyone was much better dressed. Even the poor people in dirty clothes have nicer dirty clothes than the poor people today.

The IT woman is stuffing envelopes. The Big Kahuna went to the second site to complain about not having IT at the main office for a problem they were having over there. Head Mailroom Guy (who, along with Tom Terrific runs the second site) told him, "You shouldn't have fired everybody then." He did it in front of everybody. Even the temps. That's how I know.

Wannabe Gangsta (not fired. I KNOW!) was home on vacation. They called him and told him that he needed to come in. He refused. Then they told him they'd pay him double time-- or he could join the fired. He came in and bitched, bitched, bitched. Last night, they all had to do overtime but come 8 o'clock, only black people were there stuffing envelopes. He stormed into Tom Terrific's office, "Everybody you fucking fired was black except for two people but somehow there are only black people here stuffing envelopes. Why you ain't stuffing envelopes, Tom? You too white?"

Justin says it's funny how they didn't threaten the remaining (white) claims examiners with their jobs for not staying to stuff. I guess it's a black people kind of job.

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