So my sister sent me a text Monday and I've been crackin' up over it all week. It came through as I was leaving my office for the day. Struggling into my coat while trying to hold on to my umbrella and balance my Dooney on my left arm and my lunch sack in my right hand.
Hell no, I'm not putting any of it down! Do you know how long it takes to grab that shit up?
I'm heading out the door, and cursing the day I've had, when I hear my cell. Normally I would ignore it, but for whatever reason, I shifted the umbrella to my left hand, swung my Dooney off my shoulder and to the crook of my arm and reached into the front pocket for my cell.
1 New Message: Gina
IT'S FROM MY SISTER!! WHOOP! WHOOP!
Gina always brings a smile to my face and instantly makes me hate people less. It's her Free Spirit, Mother Earth vibe. I make fun of it and yet it's soothing.
Like tea!
Mondays, for me, are hell. I am in court all day; I rarely get a break and I'm always surrounded by idiots. When I took this job 8 months ago, I had high hopes of whipping this docket into shape. It was out of control & there was no sign of anyone being in charge. Enter The Snarky Brunette. In her 4 inch heels and super big hair. Able to bark orders at attorneys in a single breath! With stealth like precision she has the ability to organize wayward attorneys (much like herding cats!) into single file rows. She has the technology. She can re-build this docket.
(If you are hearing the theme from the Bionic Woman....that is sooooooo totally what I was aiming for!)
Did she re-build the docket?
Ummmmm, not so much.
The defense attorneys now know to check in with me if they want to get out of court in a timely manner. I did manage to convince them that I do hold the key to their freedom. We are still working on the whole When I say we do not have time for sentencings, WE DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR SENTENCINGS! issue. And my Judge still drives me insane with his asking of my opinion; promptly setting aside my opinion; and proceeding to critique my opinion. He's also fond of arguing my own words back to me and telling me he's pretty sure we are in agreement.
WHAT?
For the most part, I have an abundance of ideas on how to streamline and improve this court and no one wants to listen to me. Or, they listen and then promptly do the opposite. And then when the outcome is as shitty as I SAID IT WOULD BE, they want to know why I didn't say anything beforehand.
BANG HEAD HERE!
So. I hate Mondays. I'm always incredibly wound up by the end of the day; incredibly frustrated; and the sheer number of stupid people I have to deal with never ceases to amaze me. Tk pulled me aside two weeks ago and gave me a seriously stern talking to.....all about my job is not worth my health and I've got to stop taking every set back as my own personal failure and everyone knows I'm the best thing that happened to this docket so stop trying to hold it all together for everyone and let them all fall on their faces.
Snarky: Wait.....you mean give up control?
Tk: Yes.
Snarky: But I love control!
Tk: I know you do, Babe..... and that's your problem.
Snarky: But I'm not sure I know how to give up control.....?
Tk: Let's role play. I'm the Judge and I say we're going to set 4 files for sentencing in a 15 minute slot, right before a jury trial at 9a. Now what do you say?
Snarky: I say: Hell no, you're not setting 4 files for sentencing before a jury trial! You can't even do a 1 file sentencing in 15 minutes!!
(Insert Tk crossing her arms and looking down at me whilst shaking her head no.....)
Snarky: What? What do I say?!
Tk: You say: If that's what you'd like to do, Your Honor. And then set the goddamn files for sentencing!
OY! Now I hate Mondays even more than usual! Do you know how hard it is to just sit there and let the village idiots run amok?
So hard.
Every Monday Tk meets me in the hall before Court and gives me her little pep talk reminder. It's actually kinda funny now.....
Tk: Ok, Sister...... who are you?
Snarky: I'm a professional!
Tk: And what are you gonna do?
Snarky: I'm going to sit in my chair and smile and agree with everyone!
Tk: Good girl! What do we say?
Snarky: Yes, Sir!
Tk: And?
Snarky: Super!
Tk: And?
Snarky: Whatever you'd like to do!
And then we high five and dissolve into a fit of giggles.
KB even sends me little reminder emails on Mondays now. Perky little emails like: Chin up, Sweet Pea....don't forget to smile! You are the master of the doe eyed, tilt your head, Mmmmm Hmmmmm look!
I always start off strong but by the end of the day, I'm worn thin. I think I managed to only correct someone once this week. And I'm pretty sure I didn't blurt out "Noooooooooooooo" at all. Sigh................. I hate Mondays. Now matter how hard I try, I always walk away feeling like I've stepped in a big pile of crap.
But then I got Gina's text. With a smile on my face, I slide my cell open to read it.
"Me: why did u run thru the backyard after i asked you not to?
Jack: cuz i wanted 2 surprise u with dog poop on my shoe!"
I burst out laughing..... laughing so hard, no sound was coming out of my mouth! I had to sit down on the bench outside my office door because I was afraid I'd fall over from laughing so hard! That and my Dooney shifted and totally knocked me off balance!
I was on the bench for at least a minute.....my laughter slowly dissolving away. I had to wipe tears from my eyes; I had laughed that hard. When I'd finally composed myself, I replied:
Jack is the perfect ending to my shitty day! :)
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Served
Bored with my usual cocktails, I took to the Bible last night to find a new refreshment.
The Bartender's Bible.
Please.....my hypocrisy has limits.......
The Bartender's Bible was a gift from my father on my 21st birthday. It's inscribed with a love note from my Daddy & has his favorite recipe written by his own hand on the inside cover. "The Perfect Margarita".
Hell no, I'm not sharing. Hello?
I am a bartender's daughter. My father held many jobs throughout my formative years, but the one he always kept coming back to was bartending. I have vivid memories of being smuggled behind the bar so he could finalize the shift schedule or meet with distributors or divide the tips from the night before. He bartended for the biggest bar in the town I grew up in. His clientele ran the spectrum from Judges to criminals. And according to my Daddy, sometimes they sat right next one another at the bar!
My father has some amazing stories from his time behind the bar. My favorite being when he caught the Phantom Pisser. This story requires a blog of its own..... but I bet you get the gist.
My father had a few Cardinal Rules when it came to "pouring". The first being, that you actually POUR the fkn drink. His distaste for "automated bartending" (meaning everything is measured through a gun) has been passed on to me. This is not bartending. It's pressing a fkn button and is so not impressive. His second rule was "deliver the cocktail in a timely manner". This rule is directly related to the movie "Cocktail". My Daddy could mix and pour three separate cocktails while blindfolded and send all three drinks down the length of the bar without spilling a drop. So please, dispense with the tossing of bottles behind your back and throwing shakers to one another. Only stupid people find this remotely entertaining. The majority of patrons in the bar JUST WANT THEIR GODDAMN DRINK. NOW! The third rule, and probably the most crucial, and could therefore be argued as the number 1 rule, is:
DO NOT TAP THE BAR TO SIGNAL THE BARTENDER.
Why?
1. YOU are not more important than the bartender himself.
2. While I'm serving you, I am not your servant.
3. Because if you do, your ass just became last.
I love the fact that I was raised by a bartender. It has served me well in a crowded bar when surrounded by idiots and bimbos. Case in point: when I celebrated my 4oth in Vegas with my girls, LoLo and I were the last two standing on one of our first nights in town. She and I were standing in line at the bar of Studio 54 in the MGM. We were given free drink passes (cuz we're so pretty!) and LoLo was determined to get every ounce of Vodka coming to her! It was my turn to pay, so I'm waiting in line and behind a Yuppified Douche Bag who is ordering 4 cocktails. Talking about substitute this and do you know how to that....and the bartender is getting all sorts of irritated with this idiot. He keeps looking at me like he needs a mercy killing. I've had a couple and my patience is thin; and I've got LoLo off my shoulder all sorts of wound up over HOW FKN LONG DOES IT TAKE TO ORDER A DRINK? Douche Bag finishes his order and steps off to the side. I sidle up with a smirk plastered alllllllllllllllllllllll over my face. He says: Whaddaya want, Doll? I deadpan: I'd like for that fkn guy to get his ass kicked. The bartender smiles wide. I say: Vodka tonic. Two. And my man behind the bar proceeds to pour me DOUBLES.
That's what I'm talking about!
And, he poured my doubles BEFORE he poured Douche Bag's.
Respect the bartender, People.
And reap the rewards.
You're welcome.
So.
Bored with my cocktail stand-bys, I consulted my Bible last night and was rewarded.
Behold! The Brazen Hussy:
Equal parts vodka & triple sec. 1/2 oz lemon juice. Shake and pour over ice.
A few thoughts from the Snarky Brunette:
1. I don't much care for sweet drinks, so I've modified:
2 oz Vodka
1 1/4 oz Triple Sec
1/2 oz lemon juice. Shake that cocktail til your shaker has a nice ice crust. Serve over ice. YUMMIFIED.
2. The name itself sold me. I'd have tried it even if it wasn't vodka!
3. I've got a full house tomorrow; celebrating my sister's birthday. My house is still a disaster. I should totally be cleaning it like a good Type A, Slightly OCD brunette would..........
Instead, I'm off to pour my third Brazen Hussy and fire orders at my children from my favorite chair.
Shameful.
The Bartender's Bible.
Please.....my hypocrisy has limits.......
The Bartender's Bible was a gift from my father on my 21st birthday. It's inscribed with a love note from my Daddy & has his favorite recipe written by his own hand on the inside cover. "The Perfect Margarita".
Hell no, I'm not sharing. Hello?
I am a bartender's daughter. My father held many jobs throughout my formative years, but the one he always kept coming back to was bartending. I have vivid memories of being smuggled behind the bar so he could finalize the shift schedule or meet with distributors or divide the tips from the night before. He bartended for the biggest bar in the town I grew up in. His clientele ran the spectrum from Judges to criminals. And according to my Daddy, sometimes they sat right next one another at the bar!
My father has some amazing stories from his time behind the bar. My favorite being when he caught the Phantom Pisser. This story requires a blog of its own..... but I bet you get the gist.
My father had a few Cardinal Rules when it came to "pouring". The first being, that you actually POUR the fkn drink. His distaste for "automated bartending" (meaning everything is measured through a gun) has been passed on to me. This is not bartending. It's pressing a fkn button and is so not impressive. His second rule was "deliver the cocktail in a timely manner". This rule is directly related to the movie "Cocktail". My Daddy could mix and pour three separate cocktails while blindfolded and send all three drinks down the length of the bar without spilling a drop. So please, dispense with the tossing of bottles behind your back and throwing shakers to one another. Only stupid people find this remotely entertaining. The majority of patrons in the bar JUST WANT THEIR GODDAMN DRINK. NOW! The third rule, and probably the most crucial, and could therefore be argued as the number 1 rule, is:
DO NOT TAP THE BAR TO SIGNAL THE BARTENDER.
Why?
1. YOU are not more important than the bartender himself.
2. While I'm serving you, I am not your servant.
3. Because if you do, your ass just became last.
I love the fact that I was raised by a bartender. It has served me well in a crowded bar when surrounded by idiots and bimbos. Case in point: when I celebrated my 4oth in Vegas with my girls, LoLo and I were the last two standing on one of our first nights in town. She and I were standing in line at the bar of Studio 54 in the MGM. We were given free drink passes (cuz we're so pretty!) and LoLo was determined to get every ounce of Vodka coming to her! It was my turn to pay, so I'm waiting in line and behind a Yuppified Douche Bag who is ordering 4 cocktails. Talking about substitute this and do you know how to that....and the bartender is getting all sorts of irritated with this idiot. He keeps looking at me like he needs a mercy killing. I've had a couple and my patience is thin; and I've got LoLo off my shoulder all sorts of wound up over HOW FKN LONG DOES IT TAKE TO ORDER A DRINK? Douche Bag finishes his order and steps off to the side. I sidle up with a smirk plastered alllllllllllllllllllllll over my face. He says: Whaddaya want, Doll? I deadpan: I'd like for that fkn guy to get his ass kicked. The bartender smiles wide. I say: Vodka tonic. Two. And my man behind the bar proceeds to pour me DOUBLES.
That's what I'm talking about!
And, he poured my doubles BEFORE he poured Douche Bag's.
Respect the bartender, People.
And reap the rewards.
You're welcome.
So.
Bored with my cocktail stand-bys, I consulted my Bible last night and was rewarded.
Behold! The Brazen Hussy:
Equal parts vodka & triple sec. 1/2 oz lemon juice. Shake and pour over ice.
A few thoughts from the Snarky Brunette:
1. I don't much care for sweet drinks, so I've modified:
2 oz Vodka
1 1/4 oz Triple Sec
1/2 oz lemon juice. Shake that cocktail til your shaker has a nice ice crust. Serve over ice. YUMMIFIED.
2. The name itself sold me. I'd have tried it even if it wasn't vodka!
3. I've got a full house tomorrow; celebrating my sister's birthday. My house is still a disaster. I should totally be cleaning it like a good Type A, Slightly OCD brunette would..........
Instead, I'm off to pour my third Brazen Hussy and fire orders at my children from my favorite chair.
Shameful.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
My Life As Seen Through Barf
Here's what I know:
It's been so long since my last post, my blog is covered in cobwebs.
All of you whiners who keep pestering me about this, to you I say: Hello? How sweet is my timing since Halloween is just around the corner and cobwebs are the perfect decoration?!
My house is a disaster. Seriously. If the Department of Human Services were to make an unannounced "knock & talk", my shit would be weak. They'd wanna place my kids in foster care and cite me for child neglect.
To which I'd be all: Pfffffffffffffffffffffffft! People please. I just spent the better part of four FKNG days scouring the bedrooms of my children. Sure, my house as a whole looks like a twister blew up in it; all sorts of hap-hazard and shit, but you could eat off their bedroom floors and see your reflection in their windows!
Perhaps this week I'll get to the rest of my house......?
So I was home the later part of the week, caring for sick Monsters. I'm not sure which is worse: two Monsters sick at the same time or one falling first with the other falling immediately after?!
I can tell you that their Barf Fest is what kicked my Psychotic Cleaning Frenzy into overdrive....because if you're going to wash all the fkn bedding in the room, why not just wipe down walls and wash baseboards and windows too? And if you do it for one Monster, hell yes you're gonna do it for the other. Exactly 24 hours later.
OY.
I'm hoping my PCF carries into this week and into every room of my house. Because Sweet Jesus, every room in this house needs a deep clean. And please, don't tsk! tsk! at me, People.....hiring a cleaning agency is not within my confines as a Type A, Slightly OCD brunette. I'd spend just as much time cleaning before the cleaning people came as I would if I'd just do the shit myself......so, Hello?
Rubber gloves and hot, soapy bleach water are now my new BFF's!
But if I sound like I'm bitching (shut up, Lynda!), let me be clear: so am not bitching. As I just told Mark a few minutes ago: the last 4 days have been extremely stressful what with caring for sick Monsters and firing orders about, "Samuel, please.............. one does not need a broken pencil sharpener just because it has Optimus Prime on it. THROW IT AWAY!"; and just generally letting myself go in order to accomplish the task at hand (my hair hasn't seen shampoo in three days....... shameful. I feel dirty!). But I've loved every minute of it. Being at home reminded me what I used to have before I went back to work full time: TIME. Time spent reading with my kids in my bed; time spent playing cards and getting my ass KICKED by my son in a game of Checkers. Time for all of us to take a nap together. I took all of that for granted when I was home; and now that I'm not home, I miss it the most.
Even the board game ass kicking!
So, my house is a disaster. I'm tired as hell. And I've got mountains of laundry left to do. But this long weekend has been a slice of heaven. Quality time with my kids (barf and all!) during the day, and leisurely evenings with Marky at night.
Who, by the way, has taken up the guitar. I believe it's every woman's dream to be serenaded at night with a little pong, pang! pong, pang! pong, pang!
Don't hate me cuz I've got it so damn good......!
It's been so long since my last post, my blog is covered in cobwebs.
All of you whiners who keep pestering me about this, to you I say: Hello? How sweet is my timing since Halloween is just around the corner and cobwebs are the perfect decoration?!
My house is a disaster. Seriously. If the Department of Human Services were to make an unannounced "knock & talk", my shit would be weak. They'd wanna place my kids in foster care and cite me for child neglect.
To which I'd be all: Pfffffffffffffffffffffffft! People please. I just spent the better part of four FKNG days scouring the bedrooms of my children. Sure, my house as a whole looks like a twister blew up in it; all sorts of hap-hazard and shit, but you could eat off their bedroom floors and see your reflection in their windows!
Perhaps this week I'll get to the rest of my house......?
So I was home the later part of the week, caring for sick Monsters. I'm not sure which is worse: two Monsters sick at the same time or one falling first with the other falling immediately after?!
I can tell you that their Barf Fest is what kicked my Psychotic Cleaning Frenzy into overdrive....because if you're going to wash all the fkn bedding in the room, why not just wipe down walls and wash baseboards and windows too? And if you do it for one Monster, hell yes you're gonna do it for the other. Exactly 24 hours later.
OY.
I'm hoping my PCF carries into this week and into every room of my house. Because Sweet Jesus, every room in this house needs a deep clean. And please, don't tsk! tsk! at me, People.....hiring a cleaning agency is not within my confines as a Type A, Slightly OCD brunette. I'd spend just as much time cleaning before the cleaning people came as I would if I'd just do the shit myself......so, Hello?
Rubber gloves and hot, soapy bleach water are now my new BFF's!
But if I sound like I'm bitching (shut up, Lynda!), let me be clear: so am not bitching. As I just told Mark a few minutes ago: the last 4 days have been extremely stressful what with caring for sick Monsters and firing orders about, "Samuel, please.............. one does not need a broken pencil sharpener just because it has Optimus Prime on it. THROW IT AWAY!"; and just generally letting myself go in order to accomplish the task at hand (my hair hasn't seen shampoo in three days....... shameful. I feel dirty!). But I've loved every minute of it. Being at home reminded me what I used to have before I went back to work full time: TIME. Time spent reading with my kids in my bed; time spent playing cards and getting my ass KICKED by my son in a game of Checkers. Time for all of us to take a nap together. I took all of that for granted when I was home; and now that I'm not home, I miss it the most.
Even the board game ass kicking!
So, my house is a disaster. I'm tired as hell. And I've got mountains of laundry left to do. But this long weekend has been a slice of heaven. Quality time with my kids (barf and all!) during the day, and leisurely evenings with Marky at night.
Who, by the way, has taken up the guitar. I believe it's every woman's dream to be serenaded at night with a little pong, pang! pong, pang! pong, pang!
Don't hate me cuz I've got it so damn good......!
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