My Life as a Hotfessional: September 2007

9/30/2007

I'm Outta Clever Titles

Saturday, Shortman passed his road test - now, as soon as he turns 16, he'll be able to drive. By himself. Legally (as opposed to this time). Heaven help me. His appointment was at 10:00 a.m.; we left the house at 9:30 to ensure plenty of time. After only passing the place once (!), we pulled in and a really nice man came over and said "Hotfessional and Shortman?". We agreed that that was who we were, and he went over all the rules.

First, Shortman would have to pull forward into a parking space, then back into a parking space, and then (gulp), parallel park. He'd been practicing, and we had the Baby Car, so I wasn't worried - too much. He just couldn't knock over any cones. If he passed the parking section, then he'd drive around with Larry the Instructor for 15 miles - on the expressway, on surface roads, through neighborhoods. I was fine with all of this, until Larry told me this:

"And Mrs. Hot, you'll ride in the back since you're the licensed driver of the car. And you can't say a word."

Oh my holy hell. My brand new Baby Car, 1200 miles on it, and Shortman was going to drive with me in the back and I'm not.allowed.to.freakin'.talk. What the hella is wrong with this picture?

But, we set off, and other than missing a turn into a subdivision (in all fairness, the instructor did tell him a tad late that we were going to make a right turn...right there! as we went right past it), and merging into a left-hand turn lane early, he did just fine.

When we pulled back into the parking lot, the Instructor told Shortman to make sure he remembered to smile for the camera when he got his picture taken. Shortman liked to have bust his face apart he was smiling so broadly. I got out of the back seat and walked around to get into the front passenger seat. Look at Mr. Instructor and wiped my hands on my shorts. "Thanks Larry", I said. "Just let me dry my palms off before I shake your hand."

On the way home, Shortman asked me, "Mom, do Driver's Ed instructors make a lot of money?" I told him that I didn't know, but I didn't think so. He responded, "Then why in the world would you subject yourself to that kind of torture?!?".

Thank you all for the lovely anniversary wishes. I got home to this bouquet of the most beautifully colored roses I've ever seen and a couple of really interesting books (about forensic psychology! There's a joke waiting there; something about my husband wanting me to know that people have already tried that method of murder, so it won't work....but it really is one of my favorite subjects...go figure).

Then we went to dinner and had ribs and catfish, and lots of merlot. Yummy. And cornbread. Real, honest to freakin' goodness cornbread and greens. Here's a picture of the merlot. And my, um, chest.

Oh, and you guys? It was my buddy Sue's 11th anniversary. We're anniversary-twins. So Happy, Happy to Mr. and Mrs. Sue - who I love, because we both enjoy a good cry and can weep over Dr. Seuss. Mine, I attribute to pre-menopause. Sue is not quite there, yet, so we're wondering about that E.P.T. Because, you know, the way things are going out here in blogland, I'm sure that if my tubes weren't tied, I'd be pregnant too. From the water. Yea, that's it.

Now, don't y'all forget. October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. For those of you who haven't been by WhyMommy's site, please take a look at the information regarding Inflammatory Breast Cancer. IBC is not like "normal" (if you can use that adjective for something that is so horrid) breast cancer. The symptoms of IBC are:

Swelling, usually sudden, sometimes a cup size in a few days
Itching
Pink, red, or dark colored area (called erythema) sometimes with texture similar to the skin of an orange (called peau d'orange)
Ridges and thickened areas of the skin
What appears to be a bruise that does not go away
Nipple retraction
Nipple discharge, may or may not be bloody
Breast is warm to the touch
Breast pain (from a constant ache to stabbing pains)
Change in color and texture of the areola

Also, if you'd like to use my button over there (--->) to link to my "Save the Boobies" drawing, please feel free. If you need the code, send me an email at reereep(at)gmail(dot)com.

----And now, it's back down to the television with my vodka/cranberry and the Lions, who may actually beat the Bears. Sorry Kristabella. Just add another glass of wine to my tab. And, no, I'm not even going to mention the Spartans screw up yesterday. So there.----

9/28/2007

'Til Death Do Us Part

A long, long time ago, in a state far, far away (okay, 17 years in West-by-Gawd-Virginia), I received this proposal:

"So, the Herd is playing Brown on the 28th. Why don't we drive over to Greenup and get married before the game."

I said yes.

And we did.

Dearest Mr. Hot,

I love you darling.

Thank you for loving me.
Thank you for being my partner. For believing in me when I didn't believe in myself.
Thank you for being a wonderful father to your children.
Thank you for listening, not judging. For building up rather than tearing down.
Thank you for evenings on the porch with a glass of wine.
Thank you for raising our son to be a strong and caring young man with a heart of gold.
Thank you for loving my parents and my brother and sister and nieces and nephews.
Thank you for all of what is behind us, and all of what is yet to come.
Thank you for loving me.
You are my heart and soul.
Happy Anniversary Sweetheart. Here's to the next 17.

9/27/2007

Buried by Stuff Again

I mentioned yesterday that I had homework. What I didn't mention was that when I was going into my bedroom to read said homework, I asked Shortman to turn down the speakers on the computer. Or put on his headphones. Or "shut that crap off." (Because, I needed further proof that I am fuckin' old. My kid's music is 'crap'.)

His response? "Well, why don't I just play 'Afternoon Delight' instead?"

Now I'm wondering, as I flip on the reading light and get under the covers, "What???!??".

But there are just some questions that you don't ask, because, y'know, you may actually get an answer.

Lela over at "Who Made This Mess" took me up on my challenge for anyone who wanted to play meme. Go see her 8 things. Note: Contrary to her #2, we are not married to the same man - although Mr. Hot? Does.the.same.thing.

Lys at Just Because sent me her link - right here. Lys, I watch Footballer's Wives, too. My favorite character has just got to be Tanya. How can anyone be that much of a bitch and yet have others out-bitch her?

WhyMommy awarded me another "You Make Me Smile" award, which is so very sweet of her.

She's one of my inspirations for the "Save The Boobies" drawing that I'm having, and she's looking for Walkers/Runners to raise money for Breast Cancer awareness as well. If you all can't contribute (believe me, I understand that times are not easy) or walk, please link to my post (and get your entry!) or join Team WhyMommy and help us.

For the hell of it:

And, since Fall is coming in nicely and fall vegetables are hitting the stands, I thought this just looked yummy, courtesy of emeals:

Baked Acorn Squash

Complexity: Easy
Serves: 2
Category: Easy Recipes I Can Cook
Meal: Other (General)
1 whole acorn squash
2 Tb butter, salted
2 Tb sugar, brown
0.5 tsp salt, table
1 dash pepper, fresh ground
Cut acorn squash in half lengthwise; remove seeds and pulp. Place halves, cut side up, in square baking dish. In each half put 1Tablespoon butter, 1 Tablespoon brown sugar, .25 tsp. salt and sprinkle with pepper. Put water to an inch deep in baking dish and cover tightly with foil. Bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes or until squash is tender.

---- It's a beautiful early Fall day here in the north. This weekend's activities will most likely include pulling out spent flowers and yard cleaning. I think maybe baked squash and pork chops, too. ----

9/26/2007

Homework? WTF?

Gorsh you guys. I couldn't post yesterday because? I had freakin' homework. Reading case studies on global organizations and how they're structured, and why product alignment works for some, but country alignment works for others, and the problem with matrixed organizations is, and....and (stop snoring!).....anyway - that's where I was Monday, and yesterday and today.

But, today, after scarfing down lunch, I hurried back to the classroom to take advantage of the (shhhhhhhhh) University of Michigan's [ugh, it sooooo pains me to admit that] wireless internet to say Hi! to you all. That's pretty much it, because I haven't had much of a chance to read anything (like...blogs) except case studies and I haven't been at the office to find out what those lunatics are up to. (Although I'm very scared to go back tomorrow, because, y'know, three days away? Someone may have been funny and I wasn't there to report it.)

The crowd in this course in kind of interesting though. There are 12 of us, from lots of different industries and lots of areas of the country. (There's even a man from Wales and one from British Columbia.) But, y'all, can you believe that I am the most outspoken of the group? No, really! I understand you're all sitting there going:

"Not our shy little Hotfessional - no way. How is she taking over the discussions when she's soooooooo shy and retiring? "

Well, my darlings, I just don't know. [Snort! Hee hee. Okay, so even I lost it at that picture!]

Seriously though, there are three people in here that haven't said a word over the past three days. Another couple only started speaking today. I am trying to come up with a theory here concerning their reticence.

1. Others (um, who would that be?) are so loud that it's unnerving for them to speak up?
2. They have nothing to add even though their companies spent thousands of dollars for them to attend. - or -
3. They're just using this as an excuse to get away from the office for 3 days.

I figure if I can get to the bottom of it, I can use my gentle ways to bring them out of their shell. (Shut up. I can!)

Humans are such interesting creatures. Sometimes I think that I went into the wrong field and sociology or psychology would have fit me better. Although, really, I guess that in a way, that's exactly what I'm doing nowdays - trying to figure out how to keep people satisfied working in what is essentially an organization that has already told them that they're going to be out of a job in a few months. Doesn't that take understanding an individual's motivation and psyche? Understanding the dynamics of a group of people whose morale is sinking more quickly than Venice?

Now you're all like: "Okay Hotfessional, you're getting a little too cerebral on us again!" So, how about a little factoid that you may not have known? In Germany, Proctor & Gamble sells Dawn dishwashing detergent, but it's not Dawn. It's "Fairy". And when they tried to change the branding to match what they sold in the U.S. - uh, no. It wouldn't fly! (snort. get it? it wouldn't fly! - Fairy dish detergent! hee hee snort.)

Alright - more tomorrow!

---- Don't forget! Save the Boobies. ----

9/24/2007

Save the Boobies

Okay you all, here's the deal. October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It's been "my cause" for a number of years.

For this year, and because I've got this wonderful forum, I decided to subject you all to my preaching about this. Get your mammograms! If you notice any abnormalities - let your doctor know. For goodness' sake. Don't let me lose any of you.

And, on behalf of my friends Lawmom and WhyMommy, I've also decided to make it worth your while to help me fund research on this horrific disease.

If you make a contribution to the Susan G. Komen foundation and send me a copy of your receipt anytime between 9/25 and 10/30, you'll be entered into a drawing to win this:

Limited Edition 25th Anniversary necklace

If you link to this post you get a second entry PLUS (and here's the good part) - I'll donate $5 for each and every one of you that link here (send me the link) up to $150. That's cash-on-the-barrelhead girlfriends.

Got it?

1. Send a donation to the Susan G. Komen foundation and send me a copy of your receipt and get an entry for the beautiful necklace.

2. Link to this post and get a second entry PLUS I'll donate $5 for each person (one per person, but feel free to link multiple times, it'll get you a special place in my heart forever) up to $150.

Now, where do you send me this 1. receipt and 2. link address? Well, it's a heavily guarded state secret, but for my special peeps out there: reereep(at)gmail.com.

You can do one or both of these things - I'll love you either way. And, depending on the number of entries, there may be runner-up prizes like this or this or this.

---- It's my personal chant. Say it with me! Save the Boobies. Save the Boobies. Save the Boobies. And help us save lives.----

Schooled!

So, the Lions got creamed 56-21, and poor Cupcake's Redskins lost at the last minute on a really stupid, stupid play.

I won't be posting until later tonight because I am at (ehem, University of Michigan, shhhhhhhhhh) school finishing my last certificate course. I will miss y'all today, and expect that I will need to spend many, many hours catching up on your posts all later one.

---- One last thing. I have a special Breast Cancer Awareness plan for the month of October that will be starting tomorrow. You have the opportunity to win prizes and offer support to some very special women. ----

9/23/2007

Meme

Helen tagged me. For the 8 Random Facts meme. I think it's only because she thinks I cheated on the 100 Things that I posted, but okay. I love a challenge. And, one of these days I'll make it to her neck of the woods and hunt her cute little ass down.

1. The first day I lived in West by Gawd Virginia, my phone rang. I had gotten married two days before. The voice on the other end said "You don't know me....but I work with your husband." Of course, I immediately thought, "I've only been married 2 days and the fuck is having an affair?" He wasn't. She wanted to take us to lunch to celebrate our wedding.

She became (and still is) a very good friend. We made wine together for years. We named it "Glory" - a combination of our two names. I drank the last bottle I had after Shortman was born (and a different husband). We lost touch for a very long time and recently reconnected.

2. I never would have thought that I would love to blog this much. It's healing. It's heartening. I can share my drunken thoughts and my ranting raves. I believe I could be really good friends with many, many of you. I hope that if you're ever passing through southeastern Michigan, you'll let me know so that I can offer you a place to rest and a glass of wine. By the way, summer is much, much better than winter. Fall and/or Spring are iffy, at best. (Okay, Helen, that one probably was a cheat, but I wrote that from the Admiral's club at O'Horror. After my third glass of Pinot Grigio. I was feeling sappy. But, y'all are still invited, really!)

3. I can get drunk off of wine (see #1 above) much faster than beer or liquor. Except maybe Tequila. I drink tequila once/year. On my birthday. And as long as I don't have to walk or talk afterwards. I have a scar down my back because of tequila and a fight with a wicker laundry hamper. I got up at 2 a.m. because I was so fucking dehydrated I couldn't swallow my own spit. I got light headed and fell, ass first, into the hamper in the hallway. A piece of wicker went right into my back.

4. I also have a scar from exploding lightbulbs in my bathroom. When we bought this house, the previous owners had just completed a renovation of the upstairs bath. I don't think it had ever been used. I like hot showers. Unfortunately, during the renovation, they didn't put in a vent. The light bulbs above the vanity? Were 60 watt lightbulbs. The steam and 60-watt bulbs? Not a good mix. Once morning, I bent over to wrap my head in a towel and one exploded. The hot glass landed on the back of my neck. I have a burn scar about the size of a large paperclip.

5. When I was 42, and playing soccer, a woman from the opposing team asked me how old I was. When I told her, she said, "But you're the buffest one on this field." I had to laugh. Two years before I was heavier than I had been at 9-months pregnant and couldn't run a lap around the high school track. I started training with weights, kickboxing and running - and for an entire two months I was in the best shape of my life. (Yes, for about two months I was happy with my body - it was heaven. Then I had to go on another round of travelling for work and got lazy.) Now, I'm starting back again.

6. I was invited to attend the contract signing between my company and our offshoring partners in Amsterdam in August 2005. I stayed in a hotel that had been created from a row of canal houses. My room was in a house that was built in 1620. I flew by myself to Schipol airport on Sunday evening, arrived Monday morning, and walked for hours admiring this beautiful city. I saw the Anne Frank House, The Royal Palace, and the Rijksmuseum that day. I took a three hour nap and then walked some more. A year later, I was back in Holland, but on the North Sea for a Leadership conference. We were in a castle in the National Forest. These two trips will always hold very special memories for me.

7. I was in 4th grade and we went on a field trip to one of the Metroparks in southeastern Michigan. I don't remember which one, but I remember I was wearing a pair of red hip-hugger bell bottoms with a fake cuff and a red, white and blue checked body shirt. (Hey, it was 1972!) I was running along a path next to this boy (who I ran into many, many years later, after I had moved and had a hot makeout session in the roller rink...hee). He swerved a bit and I moved over so we didn't bump into each other. My foot went down a slope, and next thing I knew, I was head over ass rolling down a hill into the river. Got that? Into.The.River. I had no other clothes, so one of the mothers had to drive me into town and find a laundromat. She went in and dried everything while I sat in her car wrapped in a blanket. One of the most embarrassing moments of my elementary school years.

8. When I was at Michigan State, I worked in my dorm cafeteria during the breakfast shift. I started at 7:00 a.m. My first class was at 8:50 on the other side of campus. Five miles away. I would work for 90 minutes, then run back to my room, grab my stuff, jump on my bike and head to class. At MSU, the bike paths have yellow lines dividing them (like a 2-lane road), and when you come to a street crossing, there are rumble strips to slow you down before you go into the street. One day, I was going back to the dorm, and another bike came into my lane and hit me head on. I ended up in the Intramural Soccer field, glasses bent, books all over the place, and bike in desperate need of repair. I limped home, dragging the sad carcass of my bike behind me.

The next day, I had that class again. I begged my boyfriend to let me borrow his bike. He was hesitant. That bike was his pride and joy. I finished my shift in the cafeteria, headed off to class, and realized that Boyfriend must ride his bike in first gear. I was pedaling like mad, but getting nowhere. I changed gears. Something locked up and I flew right the freak up and over the handlebars. Landed on my back in the middle of the sidewalk. I saw the derailleur shoved into the spokes of Boyfriend's pride and joy back tire. I hoisted the fuckin' bike on my shoulder - walked back to the dorm - ran into his roommate who said to me, "He's going to break up with you over this one" - and went to bed for the rest of the day. Somehow, I wasn't surprised that my nickname that year ended up being "Crash".

---- And so, in return, I'm tagging: Cupcake, Mad Mad Housewife, Jen on the Edge, Kristabella and whoever else wants to play. If you decide to participate, let me know in my comments. Over to you all now. Down to the basement for me to remedy #5 again. ----

9/22/2007

Another Post About Nothing

No football today - not in person anyway. Michigan State is on the road at Notre Dame. But! The drag racing that got rained out is rescheduled for today, so there will be sports(!) again(!) in my Saturday.

....I'd rather sleep right now, but y'know there's always tomorrow, I tell myself a la Scarlett O'Hara.....

My flight home yesterday was (are you ready for this?) delayed. Nah! you say. Couldn't be! you say. Well, I say.

I got a call from American Airlines at 11 a.m. telling me that my 2:15 flight that afternoon had been delayed until 3:45.

My flight actually hit the air at 5:45. The plane that we were supposed to have never left Miami yesterday morning because of the tropical depression hovering over their state. We, (according to the airline), got the ONLY extra plane that was coming to O'Horror. And only 3 1/2 hours late. They called the crew in from home.

I ended up camping out in the Admiral's club with free wireless and blog-reading for the entire time. Oh, and wine. Lots of nice white wine.

---- My maple tree out front is already changing colors. What the hell happened to summer? ----

9/21/2007

Uh.Delete.Delete.Delete.

An Email Haiku
Email can be great
But when you hit the send key
Be sure "To" is right

My company offshored it's application development and support a few years back to an Indian firm. (Although I know offshoring is a politically charged topic, that will not be the point of this post, so do not go there with me! I'm a life-long Democrat, so just hush up.) I worked on the offshoring project, went to India, and helped plan the entire offshoring strategy with a terrific team of Americans and Indians who worked together very well.

Since then, some of us have worked successfully with our Indian partners. Some? Not so much. Prior to the sale of my division, I was one of the success stories. I had a counterpart who worked for the offshore firm, but who was located in Ann Arbor. (We worked on a 70/30 mix -70% were in India, 30% in the U.S.) We had a shared vision of what we could accomplish and were working very closely to make certain that our goals were met.

When Raj was asked to move to New Jersey to work with another group, I was assured that the person replacing him was every bit as committed. "You see no degrading of the services. We continue to perform to what you want."

Uh, may I say? Yea, right. Fuck.

The degrading of the services? Happened nearly immediately. The continue to perform? Sure, if that's what you call playing internet chess after coming into the office at 10 a.m. And I know that chess is a tiring game. So, of course, leave at 4. Make sure you take a break for lunch. I mean, an hour or 90-minute break is expected - you have to get enough nourishment to play that last match.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I had a meeting with my new partner's (and I really use that term loosely) manager. I outlined (with appropriate documentation) exactly what issues I was facing. I let him know that the performance of the onshore part of the offshore team was, to say the least, shitty.

He assured me that checks would be put in place and that he would work with me to assure that we got back to the high level of performance that we had enjoyed with Raj.

That was then. This was yesterday:

Email from Offshore Partner counterpart:

Hotfessional,

I wanted to bring to your notice that XXXXXX support team got to know about the projects ProjectShutDown and ProjectStartUp through John Smith, the XXXXXX Enhancement Manager. He informed the PM to invite me into the meetings. As per my understanding support representation needs to be requested by the PM for any project where XXXXXXX provides support to the applications(as per process). By having formal representation support can get involved into these projects, provide the required inputs for the project and be aware of the impact to the applications.

Request you if proper support representation be requested and support teams get involved in the projects.

My response:

Of course.

Hotfessional

I then sent this to the PM (project manager) and copied my 'counterpart':

I think you've got his now, but can you make sure that there is an XXXXXXX Support Rep (email MyPartner) on ANY teardown or startup meetings you're running?

MyPartner, Project Shutdown has no application support ramifications because we do not support anything in DatacenterA.

thanks!
Hotfessional

A few minutes later, MyPartner's manager, who had assured me, a mere two weeks ago, that he understood my frustration and would do anything in his power to make certain that we continued to work well together, came running into my office. In Chicago, because that's where he sits.

ManagerXXXX: "Hotfessional, I just sent you an email. You delete please."
Hotfessional: "Um, sure. I'll delete it. [click, click, hit delete]. Okay, it's deleted."
ManagerXXXX: "Thank you." [leaves]
Hotfessional: [Clicks into trash folder, finds email, and reads this:
Hi MyPartner,

"Of course" is fine. What next steps is she planning to take?

Can you ask her to write all her PPM group an email stressing on this and laying out the steps that they need to follow when initiating a project? Request her to mark a copy to you such that you know that the communication has gone out.

Even after that if projects do not involve you then escalation is warranted

You might want to give the steps as stated in support representation process

Um, oops.

I don't know if I should be more pissed off about the fact that he didn't believe me when I said "Of course" and have faith that I would actually do what I said ...or... that he doesn't know enough about our email system to know that delete doesn't actually delete, it just moves it over to a holding folder until you empty the trash.

At any rate, I'm betting that he checks to make sure he no longer selects "Reply to All" instead of "Forward". Dickhead.

---- And for those of you who are wondering - those are direct cut/pastes from the actual emails. Only the names of people, companies, and projects have been changed. So, yes, for all of you cringing English Majors? This is what email has done to our language. ----

9/20/2007

The Hot 100

Oh Mah Gawd y'all. One-Hundred freakin' posts. Is this an auspicious occasion or what?

I'll tell you, putting together this list hurt my head. (So, okay, maybe the damn vodka/lemonades and kamikaze shots had something to do with it, too....)

Anyway - here you go. Everything you wanted to know about the Hotfessional and were afraid to ask.

100 Things About Me

I have green eyes and gray hair
I had a pet skunk named Blossom
Until she bit me when I tried to put a collar on her.
I taught horseback riding for two summers.
I had a Quarterhorse/Arabian buckskin mare.
I sold her to buy my first car.
My first car was a 1974 Mustang
It had a silver vinyl interior
I went to 3 different universities
I graduated from 2
All three universities had green and white as their colors
I have a lot of green and white sweatshirts
My favorite food is gnocchi
I don't eat red meat
Grilled salmon is my favorite fish
I have birthmark shaped like New Jersey
On my back
My favorite TV shows are Entourage and Dream Team
My favorite movie is The Wizard of Oz
I must have coffee every day
Black. No sugar.
I could easily sleep 12 hours/day
I have inhaled
I’d rather have champagne than beer
I’d rather drink vodka than rum
I’m a Taurus – and every bit as stubborn as a bull
I am the oldest of three children
I have 1 brother and 1 sister
I have Platinum frequent flyer status on American Airlines
I have Silver status on Northwest
I was conceived in (on?) Top Sail Island, NC
I have 1 child of my own and 2 step kids
I loved being pregnant
I hated giving birth
I am very clumsy and break things easily
Except I’ve never broken a bone
I love rings and earrings
I do not wear necklaces or bracelets
I had 20 pet rats at one time
I grew up with a 120 lb Great Dane
My High School aptitude test recommended FBI Agent as a career
My Dad was a cop for 32 years
Fireballs and Smarties are my favorite candy
Milky Way (preferably dark chocolate) NOT Snickers
I will not drink milk
I was once in a fashion show and did not fall down while walking!
I consider this a major accomplishment
I was diagnosed with alopecia areata in 1997
It makes trying new hairstyles very interesting.
My anniversary is September 28
My birthday is May 6
I love tuna salad, egg salad and chicken salad
I hate mayonnaise and salad dressing
My mom and I have the same middle name.
I love to fly
I have been skydiving.
My sense of direction sucks.
I am an excellent map reader.
I am 5'9" tall
I wear heels 95% of the time
Which makes me 6' tall
I have travelled to India
I have travelled to Holland
I have never been to Texas, Arizona, New Mexico or Colorado
My high school football team won 4 games in the 4 years I attended.
In 2005 they came in 2nd in the State Finals.
I try not to take that personally
I have visited 19 states
I live 25 miles from where I was born
I won the spelling bee in 4th grade
My prize was a Parker pen
My brother once shoved me through a window
It was at my grandmother's house
My grandmother raised me for the first 6 months of my life
My first brand-new car was a Chrysler LeBaron
It was bright red
And had a standard transmission
I hate talking on the phone
I like to write letters
I don't write to my friends often enough
Breyer's Natural Vanilla is my favorite ice cream
Hot fudge, not caramel or fruit
I don't like cake
I have banana pudding for my birthday
I would love to be a professional student
I've read every Stephen King book written
Including those by Richard Bachman
I am Lebanese, Polish, and Slovak
I am married to a German/English/Irish/American Indian
I want to live in Europe
I am a 34C
I have sunbathed topless
I got a really bad sunburn
My first pet was a Siamese Cat
I got him when I was 12 for my birthday
My first boyfriend's name was Michael
Our first date was a football game
I lost my virginity when I was 16
I'm not a fan of diamonds
My favorite gem is garnet

You guys? That was hard to do.

Here's to the next 100 posts. Thanks for coming along with me.

9/19/2007

Ah. Real Meetings......*

...for which I came to Chicago, so, between that (getting up at 4-freakin'-a.m.) and the fact that tomorrow is my 100th post (!!!!!!) and therefore I want to finish my 100 Things About Me list (stay tuned!), I want to just show you all a quick something (I know you love that run-on sentence):

MomandDad made this:

which, y'all?

Looks an awful lot like this:

Doesn't it? (Well, without the flippin', suck-ass snow....that I hate with the fury of a thousand brilliant suns.....).

How cool is that? The birds get to live in a house that looks almost exactly like mine! I hope they like their hardwood floors as much as I like mine and that they never have exploding lightbulbs in their bathroom. (Ooooh, another story to tell you someday soon.)

---- The management team is going out tonight -stories involving shots on the Chicago River at a later date I'm sure. ----

*For those of you who have teenagers....remember Ah! Real Monsters?

9/18/2007

That's it....Spank Meh

Some day, I'll maybe, possibly, have a single subject post. Um. That day would probably not be today, however.

Since tomorrow I leave for Chicago again (wondering if I still get my closet, and if it'll rain), Mr. Hot and I are taking Shortman out to dinner tonight to Joe's Crab Shack. Not exactly my type of 4-star seafood meal, but ... all you can eat popcorn shrimp (yes, Shortman's idea of seafood) for $9.99. Since I'll be in brown-food-fried-heaven later on, I decided to have a nice ~~bowl~~ styrofoam container of soup for lunch.

Excuse me, but aren't you supposed to take the bay leaf OUT of the soup before you serve it?

And of course, the leaving for Chicago always opens up the possibilities for some travel exploit posts in the next couple of days, right?

Last weekend, we did an extraction of 1.6M account records from one of our largest data systems. Those of us with some experience in this process suggested to our buyer that they consider smaller chunks over a longer period of time (i.e. ~500k accounts each over 3 weekends). They ~~told us to eat shit and die~~ disagreed with our analysis.

During the days leading up to this extraction, we met regularly with the buyer, our subject matter experts, and the business people to discuss the ramifications of moving forward in this ~~half-assed~~ manner.

Primarily, our concerns centered around the days immediately following the extraction. Putting the history of 1.6M accounts on tapes (75 of them suckers), hand delivering them to a local airport (accompanied by appropriate security), putting them on a private jet and whisking them away was the easy part. But. First business day after that happened? (Um, that was yesterday for those of you keeping track.) All hell could break loose. Because each one of those 1.6M accounts? Had to be updated to show that they no longer belonged to this bank. Now they belong to that bank.

At 2 a.m., we ran out of swap space for the updates. The job crashed, burned, and generally crapped out. We freed up some space. It sucked it up again three hours later. Like a freakin' Dyson. Finally, at 11:30 this morning, it finished successfully.

Now, if the buyer would have ~~gotten their heads out of their asses~~ listened to us when we said that smaller groups made more sense, this wouldn't have happened because? We would not have been trying to update 1.6M records. Therefore, we would not have run out of swap space 3 times. Hmmmmmmm.

And what did the morons have to say during our status update? Because we were off by 40 minutes in estimating when this would be done after it blew up 3 fucking times? And we'd NEVER done more than 400k records before?

"Well, I guess our culture is just different. We don't give the clients a resolution estimate and then change it 30 minutes later."

Don't you know that it was a damned good thing - probably the most insanely smart thing I've done since this takeover was announced in fact - that my phone was muted. That asshole would have heard things come out of this mouth that would shame a career Navy man.

Thanks to Thora for this:

What would happen if every blog published posts discussing the same issue, on the same day? One issue. One day. Thousands of voices.

This year's Blog Action Day is October 15th. This year's subject is the environment. "Posts do not need to have any specific agenda, they simply need to relate to the larger issue in whatever way suits the blogger and readership. Our aim is not to promote one particular viewpoint, only to push the issue to the table for discussion. "

I love this idea. Your views and my views may be different, but if we get people talking, think about what we can do. Join us!

Do you guys remember "3rd Rock from the Sun"? One of the top 5 funniest shows ever. Ev-Er.(Hey, this is my blog, I can make sweeping statements like that. It's allowed. Shut up.)

I was reading the NYTimes Style section and ran across this article. What? Hey, part of being the Hotfessional is to keep up on today's styles. Especially in light of the fact that I, once again, looked in my closet this morning and about puked. Black pants anyone? How about a black skirt for somethnig different? Yea, right.

Aaaaaannnyway, this little cutie Joseph Gordon-Levitt (who is so going on my list) was in Angels in the Outfield (Shortman's favorite movie ever), and a whole bunch of other stuff. And seeing him got me thinking about the show. And how we still haven't managed to get through the entire first 2 seasons of DVDs that we bought. And then one thing led to another (which it tends to do in my crazy random posts), and here we are:

---- And they had the awesomest theme song, too. ----

9/17/2007

Playing...

...with Google Reader. Comments please?

I can't decide if I trust it yet. I feel like I'm missing some of y'all's posts. And that? would.kill.me.

Hello, It's Me

9:45 a.m. Ring, Ring, Ring
Mr. Hot: "Are you busy?"
Hotfessional: "Um, never too busy to talk to you honey, what's up?"
Mr. Hot: "Do you know Shortman's Level 1 driver's license number?"
Hotfessional: "? Uh, No, it's probably on his permit - in his wallet, in his backpack, at school."
Mr. Hot: "Fuck. I need it to make the appointment for his road test."

......10 minutes of conversation about nothing - including his plans to go running (make me feel guilty for the box of animal crackers I just ate, eh?) and the Lions coach's news conference - later......

Hotfessional: "Okay, bye, I'll talk to you later. I love you."

Recap: Why would I know Shortman's driver's permit #? I barely know my own social security number. I got a new cell phone 3 months ago and have no idea what the number is. I have to look it up ON THE PHONE in order to give it to anyone. (Which, by itself, is pretty amazing that I figured out how to do that.....and I can usually do it without hanging up on the caller!)

But, okay, so maybe I had some reason to memorize Shortman's permit number. I guess it could have happened. Also, I could have discovered a cure for the common cold and made millions of dollars and been on my way to the private island that I bought in the South Pacific.

11:00 a.m. Ring, Ring, Ring
Mr. Hot: "Are you busy?"
Hotfessional: "Not really, just hung up from a security meeting. What's up?"
Mr. Hot: "Going to take the dog for a walk."
Hotfessional: "Okay. Don't forget Shortman's doctor's appointment today. "
Mr. Hot: "Oh, that's right. Okay."

.......10 minutes of conversation about nothing - including the dog next door that comes over and pees on my rhododenron bushes (it's her grandson's dog, he's staying there, and she refuses to let it in the house) and the birdhouse that my dad built and brought over yesterday - later ......

Hotfessional: "Okay, bye, I'll talk to you later. I love you"

Recap: He's taking the dog for a walk. He takes the dog for a walk every day. Honest. But y'know, in case I call him (always on his cell, we got rid of our landline), I'll know he's walking the dog. Because, it's important that I know that he'll be walking the dog in case I call. For what? No clue. To talk about the birdhouse some more I guess.

12:37 p.m. Ring, Ring, Ring
Mr. Hot: "Are you busy?"
Hotfessional: "Writing a report and getting ready for another meeting in 20 minutes."
Mr. Hot: "Oh, okay, so did you talk to Robert?" (Robert = stockbroker brother in law)
Hotfessional: "Yes, and he wants to know if we're coming down to West-by-gawd-Virginia any time soon. I told him NYO wants us to come to a game, but I didn't know if it was going to fit in the schedule."
Mr. Hot: "Yea, that's a pretty long ride for a weekend."
Hotfessional: "Anyway, I told him you'd call him later. I have his cell number."
Mr. Hot: "Awwwww, I HATE talking on the phone."

Hotfessional: "....................................."

Um, people? My darling readers? This man called me 3 times in the 5 hours after I left for work this morning. Three times. And he hates talking on the phone? WTF?

What do we talk about? Nothing. Nada. Zip-oh-la. Apparently he calls just to hear my dulcet tones. (snort)

---- Remember this? I use up all my words before Noon. Just being on the phone with my husband. I love this man. I really do - more than life itself. But if we were to measure just who hates talking on the phone more? PWNED.----

9/15/2007

MSU 120 (Penalty yards that is)

So, y'all? Personally, I think the fact that this guy brought a U of M seat cushion to the Spartan game says a lot (besides the fact that he's going to put his ass on it - which, y'know, only seems right somehow). They seem to be deserting Ann Arbor. Looking for a winner? (Okay, so right now, they're up on Notre Dame 31-0, but y'all? They.still.lost.to.Appalachian.State.

Michigan State 17. Pitt (is Shitt) 13. Close game dudes. Way too many penalties and stupidity on the field.

There was a family that sat next to us that had 4 kids under the age of 8. How they managed to last until halftime is beyond me. There were more hotdogs, popcorn, pop and candy flowing than a movie theatre filled with stoned college students. We did heave a sigh of relief though when they left. The climbing back and forth and the screaming for more - more - more was getting to be a bit much.

Now, if only my Beloved Marshall could figure out that they do.not.belong.in.Conference.USA.they.should.have.never.left.the.MAC. At the half. New Hampshire 24. Marshall 0. [sob]

Um. Notre Dame chicks? WTF?

Going to thaw out my toes now. And drink.

9/14/2007

A Little Bit About Nothing

Remember the mid-year-reviews that had to be completed by the end of July? How I bitched about them? How I said they were pretty much useless? We got an email today.

It says (I’ll paraphrase a bit):

Dear Managers,
…..[all identifying features about company removed, etc, because I can’t get fired] all “end of year” performance ratings for employees ….must be completed….and reviews discussed with employees by the end of this month.

…[More stuff about how to do it and yes, this means you, and don’t even give me that look young lady because we pay you and therefore for the sake of your employees, you will do this]….

….Oh, and by the way. Don’t be late.

Seriously. That is the gist of the email.

Hello? It’s September, isn't it? Why, yes, it is. (I checked the calendar!) We need to do end of year reviews? Does this tell you that maybe, juuuuuust maybe, the management team won’t be around come December? Hmmmmmmmm. Because otherwise? How would everyone else get their pay raises come next year?

Oh, and Marianne, over at "My Left Nerve" found this little gem:

49%

Mingle² - Free Online Dating

You'd think with all of the Stephen King books I've read (ALL of them y'all. Even the non-fiction and the short stories and the Richard Bachman books....), I'd fare a better than 50-50 shot at surviving.

Shortman finished Part 2 (Defensive Driving Skills) of Driver's Education yesterday. He can now take his road test. This morning he informed me:

"When I get my license and I drive to school, I'm going to stop at Subway every day on the way home."

He thinks he's Jared - I tried to explain that:

Jared walked to Subway and
Jared had money to pay for his sandwiches.

Once again, I was left speaking to air.

I'll be back here tomorrow.

Cheering "Pitt is Shitt!" And watching for U of M vs. Notre Dame score updates. My dear ND fans? You better deliver. I'm counting on a few 'Hail Marys' to pave the way to an Irish win tomorrow.

Mr. Hot has promised us a gourmet breakfast before we go to the game so that we don't starve. He's an expert breakfast maker. Eggs, potatoes, fruit, juice and lots of coffee. Yum. Also, it's supposed to be a balmy 59-degrees tomorrow at game time. The extra layer of fat should help.

MomandDad are coming over on Sunday. Dad thought he was going to be able to watch the Lions on the plasma, which is still not back. It died on August 21. On August 23, it was whisked away by people who were going to fix it and make it all better. Um, it's September 14. And we're still waiting for the effin' replacement digital board, which, according to the repair guys "Never goes out". Excuse me? If that particular part "never goes out", then why in hell is it back-fuckin-ordered? For three weeks?

Mr. Hot called them on Monday:

Mr. Hot: "I'm calling about the 42" Samsung plasma you have? You picked it up on August 23rd?"
Smart Ass TV Repairman: "Yea, $500."
Mr. Hot: "Excuse me?"
SATR: "Sorry, man, just kiddin' ya. Yea, we got it."
Mr. Hot: "I'm in no mood for this. You've had it three weeks. You originally said it would be a couple of days. Last week I called, and whoever I talked to first said you didn't have it. Then they found it. When is it going to be done?"
SATR: "Uh, well, man, see, the part was backordered."
Mr. Hot: "Yes, I know. Because the SATR I talked to last week told me that. I want to know when the part will be in. I've been watching football since the opening of the season on a damn 13-inch portable."
SATR: "Um, well, man, that television has been recalled."
Mr. Hot: "Oh, it has? And so what's that got to do with the part? Is that why it was recalled? Is that why the part is backordered?"
SATR: "Yea, man."
Mr. Hot: "Thanks. Then I'll call Circuit City about the backorder."

********* Later **********

Mr. Hot (On the phone with Circuit City): "I understand that the Samsung 42" plasma that I purchased 18 months ago was recalled due to a defective digital board?"
Circuit City Customer Service: "Well, no, sir, I don't have any back order records for that model. Or any Samsung plasma for that matter. Only a microwave."

Mr. Hot explained the situation and the conversation with the SATR. CCCS lady offered to call the repair shop and speak to the owner and call Mr. Hot back.

********* Later again***********

CCCS: "Mr. Hot? Yes, I spoke with the owner of the shop and the board is backordered and should be there by Wednesday next week. He assured me that it will be installed as soon as they receive it and you'll have your television back."
Mr. Hot: "Thanks, that's all I needed, just an answer."

Now, me? I'd have probably turned around and called the owner back and told him (in no uncertain terms, but then y'all know this about me....) exactly what kind of full-page ad I was going to take out in the local newspaper explaining how his fuckin' funny man employee treats their customers.

Because, y'know, I am that kinda 'reaction first, think later' gal. But, somehow, I managed to find a man who will wait until after we get the television back to do that.

Because he's smart that way.

---- Y'all hav a great weekend. Here's some cuteness for you from the LOLCats archives. I'm practicing...y'know, just in case. ----

9/13/2007

Pride Before a Fall or Something Like That

Thud.

Excuse me, I never could walk in heels and an evening gown. And who thought that stairs up to the stage made sense? Like that damn red carpet wasn’t booby trap enough, what with the flashes going off in my face and all. Hey! MomandDad doesn’t call me Grace for nuthin’.

I’d like to thank my darlin’ Helen, who presented me with this:

It will look so nice on my ~~sidebar~~ mantle. I’ll make sure ~~Mr. Hot~~ the maid dusts it regularly and that I’m never so ~~broke~~ jaded that I auction it off on eBay.

Now, to pass along the honors to all of these others who make me smile (and who, I am certain, are much more graceful and elegant than me):

---- Carmen? I so feel for you. But somehow, I still think you look better on your ass than I do on mine. ----

9/12/2007

The Funny - Make It Come Back

Y'all. Are you wondering about the funny? Geez. Semi-seriousness on Monday. Complete seriousness yesterday. For cryin' out loud - even Sunday was nuthin' but a bitch-fest.

So, um, yea, sorry about that. I need some of the funny back myself. Instead, I'll bore the crap out of you with:

"Scenes From a Typical Day in the Life of The Hotfessional"

5:51 am - Alarm goes off. Mr. Hot shoves me in the shoulder to let me know that the alarm has started beeping. He forgets that I am deaf when I lay on my right side. Or my left side. Or if the day starts with M, T, W, or F. The alarm doesn't go off on "S" days, so ... not an issue.

5:52 am - Hit snooze.

6:00 am - Moan. Turn over and try to move arm that has been trapped under 35 lb dog and is now full of needles. Turn off alarm.

6:03 am - Moan. Get up. Bash hip into various pieces of furniture.

6:05 am - Walk down hallway to bathroom. Potty. (Aren't you glad I share?) Turn on water and pray that it warms up quickly. Shampoo, condition, wash, shave the fuckin' pieces that need to be shaved.

6:20 am - Back to bedroom. Stop at Shortman's door and yell that it's time to get up. Tell dog (who is laying on Mr. Hot's pillow) "Go wake up Shortman". Dog looks up, moans, and goes back to sleep. Bash other hip on same various pieces of furniture.

6:23 am - Yell at Shortman again. Mr. Hot brings in coffee.

6:25 am - Yell at Shortman again.

6:27 am - Yell at Shortman again. "If I don't hear feet hit the floor, I'm coming in and pulling that blanket off your ass!" (Shortman sleeps 'au naturel'. He doesn't know I know this. What could be worse than having your mother find out in quite that manner?) Shortman gets his nekkid butt up.

6:55 am - Feel competent and awake enough to dry my hair.

7:00 am - Realize that I hate my hair. For the seven-zillionth time.

7:05 am - Moisturize. Put on makeup. Try to not poke eye out with eyeliner or mascara wand. Put hair in ponytail or some sort of clip. Realize I hate my hair. For the seven-zillion-and-first time.

7:15 am - Walk to closet. Step on cat that decides it's time to come out from under chair that is piled with clothes that need to be dry-cleaned. Look at clothes that are hanging (and don't need to be dry-cleaned). Pick pair of black pants (out of 12 pairs of black pants). Pick shirt that doesn't break any dress code rules. Change to different pair of black pants. Yell at Shortman to go put in his contacts, "We're leaving at 7:30 on the dot!" Pick out earrings. Put on rings.

Seriously, black pants.

7:25 am - Look for security badge.

7:27 am - Find security badge on original pair of black pants.

7:31 am - Back to bathroom to brush coffee stained teeth.

7:35 am - Throw fruit in bag for lunch. Kiss Mr. Hot goodbye. Kiss Poopy Puppy goodbye. Watch Shortman put on shoes. Swear that tomorrow, we're out the door at 7:30. No later. Seriously.

7:36 am-6:05 pm - Drop Shortman at school. Drive to office. Check email. Check work email. Work shit. Read a couple of blogs during especially boring conference calls. More work shit. Eat lunch. Drop blob of yogurt on black pants. Read another blog or two during lunch. Go to face-to-face meeting. Work. Listen to bitching. Sigh a lot. More conference calls. (Oh, the glamour!)

6:10 pm - Drive home. Kiss Poopy Puppy. Kiss Mr. Hot. Yell to Shortman "Did you do your homework?" (Because it's the law when you're a mom that you have to yell that, apparently).

6:30 pm-9:30 pm - Work out (okay, shut.up. - I really do this). Eat dinner. Have a beer or glass of wine, or several. Monday and Thursday - watch football. Clean cat litter. Sigh a lot. Ask Shortman if he's done his homework. (Again, yes, that law thing) Listen to Mr. Hot explain politics. Try to remember in case I'm quizzed later. Tell Shortman we're leaving at 7:30 tomorrow morning. Try to look serious when saying this. Know that being laughed at by a 15-year-old really undermines my parental authority.

9:35 pm - Brush teeth, wash face, collapse into bed. Pick up book. Read one page and then snore.

---- Once upon a time, someone gave me a book to read. "The Changing Life of a Corporate Wife." They evidently thought I was going to marry an executive. This cracks me up every time I think about it. Dinner parties? Business events? Ha. Ha, I say!----

9/11/2007

September 11

Some days will forever be replayed in your mind - there's simply no need for video or blog entries. Pearl Harbor. The JFK Assassination. September 11, 2001. But sometimes, it's good to share those memories. Sharing keeps your heart whole and strong.

I was meeting with a vendor who was trying to sell me some new software add-on that I didn't need. My phone rang. I knew it was my home phone number, so I excused myself to the Sales Rep and picked up the phone.

It was Mr. Hot. "A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center." He wasn't panicked. I remember thinking that it must have been a small little plane. The kind that flew in and out of our local airstrip. Maybe a corporate jet. My response was typical of someone who isn't really paying attention because of other nuisances going on. "Really? Wow. You'd think you wouldn't miss something that big. Hey, let me call you back, I've got someone here. Love you, bye."

I turned back to the vendor. My phone rang again in the time it took me to turn around and say, "Sorry, that was my husband telling me that a plane....geez. I'm just Miss Popular today." I look at the number flashing. Home again. Uh-oh.

"Another plane. Hit the other tower. They're saying on the news that they're passenger jets, not little planes." I looked at my visitor, and started repeating everything that Mr. Hot was telling me. "Huge holes in the building. Passenger jets. Hijacked. " I told Mr. Hot to hold on, put the phone down, and simply said. "I don't think we're going to have time for the rest of this meeting. We'd better find a television."

I remember Mr. Hot telling me when the North Tower fell. I remember my boss calling from Chicago, telling me to send everyone home. I remember no one leaving, because there was a television on the floor, and we all clustered around it.

I remember walking into the living room in our little condo. Mr. Hot was on the couch, tears in his eyes. Shortman was just ready to turn 10. I sat with my family, the three of us, the rest of the night. We watched George W. Bush (it was the last time I respected that man) and Rudy Guiliani. I remember calling an especially close friend from work. She was in Chicago, but lived on Long Island. "Are you okay? Is your family okay? Are you staying in Chicago? How are you getting back?"

Our building in Chicago was evacuated. We had an office in New York. As I watched the crawler at the bottom of the television screen, I saw my company's name listed as having space in WTC.

We focus on the Towers, but must also remember Flight 93 in Shanksville, Pennsylvania - about 80 miles from where my mother grew up. And the Pentagon. Those people who were on Flights 11, 77, 175 and 93.

I remember driving, days later, home from one of Shortman's soccer games. It was getting to be dusk, but not yet dark. His best friend's mother was behind us, following us in her car. Mr. Hot and I were listening to the news. It seemed like we were always listening to the news. Up above, a plane was flying. The planes were back in the air. We looked at each other. We beeped and pointed, out the window at the plane.

Two weeks after September 11, 2001, I flew to Chicago. The mood on the American Airlines flight was solemn. We were wearing ribbons. The flight attendants were wearing ribbons. The pilots thanked us for flying American. They thanked us for remembering their fallen brothers.

It was a bad time in the United States. It was a good time in the United States. We were all Americans, and we had banded together.

---- "The hero is commonly the simplest and obscurest of men." Henry David Thoreau ----

9/10/2007

Upon Reflection

I'm still trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up.

Don't get me wrong, I love my life and I'm very happy with where I've landed. When my childhood dreams of becoming a veterinarian were dashed, I got my degree in something I thought maybe I'd be good at - Business Management. I focused on Organizational Theory (please, don't snore too loudly .... you'll wake the freakin' dead), got a job in Human Resources, and pretended to be a grown up for about five years.

After I realized that my profession of choice wasn't necessarily correct for me at the time (that, & the comment on my annual performance review that I was "abrupt, abrasive and abusive" - seriously - my boss ~~hated me~~, ~~really wanted me to succeed~~, felt that was constructive criticism), I started thinking about what I liked. What did I want to do that:

wouldn't make me want to scratch other people's eyes out,
wouldn't make me want to puke with the absolute sickening sweet necessity of being nice all the time.

I decided that something in the technical line of study would be more conducive to my, erm, somewhat impatient nature when dealing with ~~idiots~~ others. (snort) I ended up at Marshall University in their Computer Science program - the only woman in the program. (Do y'all see the pattern?)

I met Mr. Hot (who was in the Management Information Systems side of the program....less math, more business-y type stuff), got married, had Shortman, graduated, moved back north and found a job over the next two years. Head spinning yet? I felt like Regan - only older and with bigger boobs.

I was happy in my little COBOL programming world for a while (told you I was old). Then the bank I worked for was bought.....so I went to a new department - programming in FoxPro and Visual Basic. Then that bank was bought. (Patterns. My whole freakin' life is about patterns.) I moved to web programming and design. Want to do your banking online? Apply for a mortgage? I lived through Y2k man! The only time I stayed completely sober on New Year's Eve.

And then, someone apparently thought I'd become management material, and they took me away from the keyboard and put me back in front of people. I started using that old organizational theory shit. I now have a real title, a real office, and "people".

And then, this bank was bought.

I have a job to do. I committed to running the show until these signs are swapped out and these systems are shut down, and everyone is either out the door or all snuggly working for the new guys. I wonder sometimes if I didn't do myself a mis-service by staying. What will be left for me in the area after I send everyone away with the pats to their heads and their shiny reference letters? Will it be a gold star on my resume to be able to say that I have experience shutting down a business? Hmmmm. I wonder who wants that kind of expertise on their senior management staff?

I wonder what it would be like to work in a completely different field. Maybe I could do a reduced nursing program. Or, like Cupcake, teach. I could become a consultant, but I don't know that I want to spend that much time on the road. Or go into law-yering.

Funny how time passes so quickly. I started that COBOL job 15 years ago on September 14th. Yes, 15 years ago this coming Friday. (And hey, Employee Awards program? Where's my freakin' pen and pencil set?????)

---- Maybe I should go back into Human Resources. I mean, surely I've mellowed over the years? Oh, little would they suspect that I was the original Triple-A girl. But y'know? the mellowness? most likely exhaustion and age. Let's just pretend I'm like a fine wine, shall we? ----

9/09/2007

Mr. Hot Wants To Know....

...if I'm blogging. Hell to the no. I'm reading blogs. It's been nuthin' but effin' football all day long and guess what!!!! Sunday Night football is on. Yeah. Whoopeee.

Now, I'm not saying that I hate football. I love the game (especially when my Spartans are concerned and winning...but that goes without saying), but my gawd people? Three games already today and now another one. Sigh. It's like eating Breyer's vanilla three times a day AND for dessert. You need a little crunch once in a while.

Sundays suck. You know it's back to work the next day. You know that Shortman will argue that he doesn't need that much sleep. You know that the humidity is going to kick in around 3 a.m. and you don't know whether it's freakin' hot flashes or just a bedroom that doesn't have any airflow. Suck, suck, suck. Oh, and don't forget that the dog must.sleep.butt.up.against.my.legs.

Hey, but the Lions won. Whoo! Sorry Oakland. (Not really. Oakland fans scare me.)

The cable has been wreakin' havoc around here. For about an hour, it was 15 seconds on, 15 minutes off. "It's not complicated, it's Comcast." Yea, right. More like, "It's not competent, it's Comcast." Argh.

Aaaaaannnnnyyway. I got nothing tonight you all. Nuthin'. Sorry, but my buds do. Go take a look/see at:

Pyreflies over Zanarkind- Beautiful photography. I get lost in some of these images.

The Inadvertent Gardener - One of the first blogs I found. Great images. = Great "life in the garden" posts.

And Miz S- Another animal lover. And Poopy Puppy and the Kittehs love her to death.

So, someone tell my why my last twitter shows "91 days ago"?

And why every time I step into the bathroom downstairs the cats decide it's time to visit the litterbox?

And why sheets cost $100? Cotton, people, not silk!

And who decided that low rise pants are STILL the way to go? My ass does not do low rise.

And why the people across the street pay no attention to their dog who comes over to shit in my yard OR their boys who decide to play pellet gun out of their front window?

And why, why, men need to shout at the television? Like it's going to answer back? Or the coach will change the play because they think it's better to run than pass?

---- Bed (new sheets) and a book. The fan strategically positioned for maximum breezy value. It's callin' my name y'all. See you on the flip side. XXXXOOOO -----

9/08/2007

To the Green & White

Back to Michigan State today for the match against Bowling Green. Let's Go Sparty!

Edited: After the game. Man, I forgot how much I love that campus. All the trees, the river. Beautiful. And of course, the score.....28-17. MSU over Bowling Green.

---- Oh, and I'm going to bend the rules of the Nice Award and make sure that another extraodinarily nice blogger picks one up here. I'm kicking myself that I missed her in yesterday's list, but I blame my stupidity on sheer Friday stupor. Ladies and Gentlemen, please help me congratulate ....Cripes, Suzette!. Another really, really special blogger. I thank her for her support and concern over the past couple of weeks. ----

9/07/2007

New Hallmark Holiday Declared

Apparently, snarkiness and PMS and panic-assedness and whining equal NICE! in Kristabella's world (yea, actually, she's from Chicago and is was a Notre Dame fan so that makes sense [edited to say she used to be a ND fan]) because she gave me the "Nice Matters" award.

According to Kristabella:

"It’s for those bloggers who are nice people and good blog friends - those who bring good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world."

I am truly honored. And grateful that some people think my sick, sick humor is worth spending time reading. Because, y'know? the things that pop into my brain and come out my mouth usually have this affect on others:

Oh, wait. No, that's a U of M player after last Saturday's game. Oops! Um, sorry about that Dude. Better luck this week. I won't be sitting on the 3-inch-wide seat in the endzone tomorrow. You should be cool.

Aaaaaanyway. (Y'all, I know I ramble. I try not to, but y'know? What the hell.)

Without further ado, here's my picks for passing along of the "Nice Matters" award. I'm awarding them all for the same reason, they make me laugh out loud and they understand the craziness. Also, they're good at bitchiness, because we all know that sometimes, bitchiness is just nice wearing black lace and leather.

Jilt - from Parentville - Cookie medicine. It works, I know it does.
Cupcake - Honey, even 180 days will pass eventually. I promise.
Mouse - Um. About that Irish score? Maybe they should have worn the green.
Sue - Excellent use of power sander - and completely understandable.
Mini - 5 words. "No feeding tubes on the field."

And honorable mention to all of you who stop by and wish me well in this new venture that I've taken on. Blogging? Humor writing? Whatever it is, it's a hella lotta fun.

---- And then, there's Mr. Hot who yelled in from the living room last night just as I was taking a drink of ginger ale. Completely without warning, rhyme nor reason. "Did you know that today is 'Screw Your Husband Day?'" I'm telling y'all. The Snark? It's self defense. ----

9/06/2007

Please Pass the Tissue...sniff

You guys? Thank you. Thanks for listening, for your support, and your encouragement. You've given me something that makes up for the sleepless nights - and y'know what? Y'all are right. There's no reason to give up something I love.

I still hope that it's over and that my ghost from the past understands and decides that they're through with me once and for all, but in the light of day, I know that if they really wanted to find me, they could. (Yea, 21st century technology and all that? Not a problem.) And so, I have come to realize that I actually appreciate that they asked me before making contact. And so I'll say it: "Dear Ghost - Thanks. I mean it. I hope you're happy and that life gives you the best it has to offer."

And now? Well, obviously I owe you a post after my bout of panic-assedness yesterday, so here's a discussion from outside the Hotfessional office door today.

HotAdmin: "We need to order 2008 calendars for the staff, but the purchasing system doesn't have them in the catalog. "

Hotfessional: "As long as we're not getting $40 or $50 calendars, I guess people can go buy them from "Paperclips" and put them on their expense report. Or we can wait until January and go get them really cheap from The Dollar Store!"

HotAdmin: "Or I can just print off calendar templates from MSWord and have them bound with those plastic thingies!"

Hotfessional: "Y'know, that could save me from having to have layoff discussions with everyone. I can see it now -
'Here Jane! You get the first quarter 2008. John, you get throughApril! Atta boy! Damn. I'm sorry Sally, you only get January. That's really too bad.'"

Snort. So, we can't buy calendars. All equipment replacements are on hold. Employees have end dates and are leaving pretty much weekly. Managers are looking out for themselves and paying little attention to their staff or coworkers. Morale? Sucks eggs. Stinky, rotten, 'Ooops, forgot I hid that there' Easter Eggs. So, you get your laughs where you can and thank heaven for your friends and family.

Oh, and the school bus situation? Got a call from the transportation office lady with the correct bus number. Her response to why we didn't get a card mailed to the house with the information? "Oh, he's a Junior. We don't send bus information out to Juniors or Seniors."

People? WTF?

First off, he's a 15-year-old Junior. We live two miles from the school. The district assumes what? I'm going to drive my 15-year-old to and from school every day (yea, I can interrupt meetings at 2:30 in the afternoon to go pick my kid up - that's going to go over well.)

Or maybe, that he's going to walk or ride his bike? Sure. (Okay, I walked 15 miles uphill both ways in snow up to my chin...or wait, was that my father?) Need I remind you? This is country-ville Michigan. And? He's a 15-year-old boy. If it's not baseball, he's only walking from the computer to the refrigerator and back. And half the damn time? He's asking you to do the walking for him. "Mom, can you bring me up that cold pizza???!!!??"

Or, that all Juniors are 16 and can drive (um, no?) and (this is my favorite), have their own cars. Okay, it's the Motor City, but having a Michigan address does NOT mean the auto industry gives you a set of wheels on your Sweet Sixteenth. (That would be 90210, not 48108.)

So, Poor Shortman. Until he does get his license and we work out some sort of schedule for him to use one of the vehicles and he figures out what he's going to do to earn the $50 parking permit fee (Oh! another reason they don't want Juniors riding busses. Fifty bucks to park your car. That Ford Motor Co. gave you.), he'll be riding the bus.

---- And this? Because you all are the best. ----

9/05/2007

Why Do I Blog?

I never thought blogging would be my thing. I mean, I’m an I.T. professional. I’ve spent 15 years either in Programming or in IT Management. Why would I want to do this during my “off time” as well? Yea, I know, it’s not hard to blog. WYSIWYG editors and point-and-click make it foolproof, but it’s still sitting in front of a computer. And after 10 or 12 hour days of doing just that? No thanks.

My creative juices were generally nurtured by drawing, or quilting, or needlework. Gardening came a bit later. It was a return to a lower-tech way of life. I loved the way the colors in the quilt would work together. The way I could sit with my family on a rainy or snowy Michigan day and decompress from a week at work. Forget about travel headaches. Employee headaches. Client headaches. I was surrounded 40 or 50 hours each and every week by men and computers and business and suits. My free time was spent in more traditionally feminine pursuits.

Then, my work life started changing. I was definitely doing more of the Management thing than the IT stuff. I spent 3 years rearranging people’s lives and their livelihoods. I restructured and reorganized. My son was getting older and wasn’t that interested in spending all of his time around Mom. We moved out of a small condo and into a house. The 40 to 50 hours became 50 to 60 hour work weeks with two to three weeks of travel every month. It was taking a toll. There didn’t seem to be any free time for stitching or drawing. Three years went by and I didn’t pick up a needle or a piece of charcoal.

Then I sat down one day to find out how to transplant some hostas. I stumbled upon a couple of gardening blogs and had an “Ah ha” moment. So THIS is what blogging was all about. A gardening site led me to Susie Sunshine. I kept going back and read through all of her archives. I followed her links. I lost myself in your families and your lives; your joys and heartbreaks. I told Mr. Hot about them. He looked at me one day and said

"Your life would make a great blog. Think about it. You’re the only woman doing what you do for your company. You have a stay at home dad for a husband. You’re on the road and right now you’re all about working yourself out of the career you’ve had for 15 years. You can talk about your hotfessional wardrobe and the idiots that you deal with.”

And so, “My Life as a Hotfessional” was born in May 2007. It’s been a way for me to be creative. I get to unleash my inner snark. I have to be buttoned up and proper and polite while I’m in the office. Yet, so much of my life isn’t buttoned up or proper or polite. It’s cursed and foul-mouthed. It’s broken bra straps and snapped heels and hems that fall down. It’s late planes and disabled trains and cab drivers that make me car sick.

And I love it. I love my life, I love having this blog. I’m amazed at the reactions people have and the joy I get when I hit the Publish button. I love feeling the words come and the effort it takes to balance the humor and the snarkiness. I love finding the exactly right phrase to say what is on my mind.

What I didn’t expect was that I would get to the point where, after less than 100 posts, I am thinking about shutting down this blog because someone that I haven’t had any contact with for nearly 17 years found it. It’s been an interesting couple of weeks – the first comment and now a request for further communication. I have turned on moderation of comments and now I’m refusing anonymous posts. If one day, you come here and find that I’m gone, you’ll understand why. I’m a bit frightened. For my family and for myself. Although I know this person wouldn’t do me any physical harm, the mental aspects of wondering – Why after so long? How long has this person been following me? – are waking me up at night.

I find myself censoring my posts. I promised myself I would never do that. I would protect the innocent and be generic, but I wouldn’t censor. I would say what was in my heart, but even if I had to cloak it, it would be honest.

I blog as a release. I blog to try to make others laugh and forget about their problems. I blog to re-gather some of the creativity I don’t get to use being in my line of work. I ask this person to respect this and although I can’t prevent them from reading, I can ask that they refrain from contacting me in the future. That's all I can ask.

9/04/2007

He's a Junior!

Actually, he's not. I wanted him to be a Jr. His dad, however, is a Junior, so he would have had to have been the Third. That was vetoed. Instead he has a name that is his, (and other than the other 37 kajillion men with his name), his alone.

My baby started eleventh grade today. Y'know, the baby? The one that decided to be born a week early when no one was ready for him. The one that slept through the night when he was 10 weeks old. The one who started talked (and has yet to stop) when he was two.

The one that loves animals, loves baseball, and hates fish. (Except shrimp, if it's fried - ugh.) Loves Lord of the Rings marathons, and anything done by Adam Sandler, but hates black and white movies. Loves to swim. Loves to fly. Hates to ride in the car.

I never knew what it felt like to be willing to die for another person. (Of course, this doesn’t mean I never want to kill him, because, y’know? He’s 15.) Trying to protect your children from everything and anything that can happen to them is an exercise in frustration and futility, but y'know? You keep on doing it. You keep trying.

I dropped him off and realized that this is the second to last time I’ll ever take him to “First Day of School”. And then, as I drove off, the tears started because, y’know? Next year? He’ll drive himself.

It seems fitting that today is Perfect Post Day. And because Helen wrote this post, that took me back to when I was sending my little boy off to Kindergarten, and 1st grade, and 2nd grade… and every first day since then, I award her the perfect post for August. And thanks to Lindsay and Momma K for offering (and you, too, if you want…go look) to present this to her.

---- Thanks Helen. For keeping me in tears all week long. I owe you. Big Time. ----

9/03/2007

Monday. Where did August Go?

So, you guys? What the fuck happened to summer?

Shelves. I love shelves. Mr. Hot loves shelves. When the two of us try to put shelves up together? Let's just say....the shelves are sitting in the garage. Snort. He can put them up tomorrow while I'm at work. Him - 1, Me - 0

Did manage to get Shortman's new curtains up today though. Him -1, Me - 1

And tomorrow is the first day of school. Took Shortman to Kohl's yesterday for khaki shorts and a couple of shirts. He did pretty well picking things out. At least we're getting him out of the basketball shorts and jerseys.

Realized that we don't know which bus Shortman is supposed to take home. Well, he'll have a phone in case it's not the same as last year. Gee, the thought of a ride home from school. Do you think he'll bother looking for the right bus? Yea. Right. Make me believe it. C'mon. :-}

Look here tomorrow for the August Perfect Post. I joined the gang over at Petroville and Suburban Turmoil to select a monthly perfect post. Because I sooooo heart my fellow bloggers.

---- Okay, I'm going back to the deck. I need to refill my glass, kick back with Mr. Hot and Poopy Puppy while Shortman the Gamer sits up here in the sweltering office playing WOW. Having a teenager makes you realize - there's a whole world out there that you may or may not want to know about, and that Summer? Is never long enough. Damn. Hope you all had a great Labor Day! ----

9/02/2007

They've Asked Me To Never, Ever, Come Back

Oh. My. Do you think it was the green and white thong I wore into the Big House?

Today's headline on the Ann Arbor News (Front Page): "What Just Happened?"

On the Sports Page: One and Done.

The shell-shocked Wolverine fans watched their "famed and destined" football team lose to lowly Appalachian State. My beloved Marshall used to beat up on Appy State for fun.

But I don't want to wallow too much in their misfortune (well, yes, I do, but I have to take Shortman school clothes shopping today, so I can't sit here all day). I did promise a couple of pictures and I need to tell Kristabella about what it was like in the Big House. I forgot to take the good camera, so they're a bit blurry.

Outside the stadium. The best part? Check out the sky. This is the most perfect kind of opening day for football no matter where you are.

Um, fans. I guess. We did have three or four Appalachian State ex-players sitting down in front of us flashing their National 1-AA championship rings. Lots of really big BLING. I think Lloyd Carr should maybe use the sun shining off that bling as an excuse for dropped balls.

The yellow section on the left? Student section. This was the band coming out onto the field. All I can say is there was a hella lot of people.

There's one thing about the Big House. The seats are ALL bleacher seats. No backs. And the space allotted per seat number will fit, oh maybe, a 1954 ass. Seriously you guys. I'm 5'9". I weigh around - well, never mind. I have a weight. Anyway. My ass fit on my seat. I will say that much. The man in front of me? Not so much. He was using my knees as a backrest. Shortman was on my left, Mr. Hot on my right. Both over 6 foot tall. Neither one could sit with his knees out in front. They sat sideways. So, it was kinda like this: ///\\\ Three sets of legs. Can you imagine the claustrophobia? As if I wasn't already a bit nauseous just being there.

We were in Row 14. There were 109,000 people there. CRAMMED.INTO.THE.STADIUM. If (and it's a very, very big if) I ever go back, it will be to a top row seat. Where I can stand the entire time.

It was truly amazing though. We all believed that we would see U of M win and win BIG. They just didn't take the little University from Boone, North Carolina very seriously. It's going to make for a very interesting season in Ann Arbor.

---- Maybe in East Lansing, too? Spartans win 55-18 over UAB. Apparently they didn't underestimate their opponent. ----

Go Sparty!

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