Unsportsmanlike or Celebrating 75 Years of March Madness
I know it's wrong to gloat but I'm insanely happy that the Hoosiers lost their playoff bid to Wisconsin. Those silly IU fans aren't nearly so smug now, are they?

As a side note, uniforms, NCAA. What. the. hell? Michigan looks ridiculous in those screaming yellow getups and since when did gold become one of State's colors? What I fear is gold lame no less. Ohio State has this weird breastplate sort of vee shaped insert at the neck that looks incredibly uncomfortable and scratchy. Did an angry drag queen design these or what? Karl Lagerfield perhaps?

I must say, though, that the long shorts these days are tres sexy compared to those man panties of the 70s and 80s.

And although I'm not an IU fan, I do quite like Butler and Valparaiso. Little schools that could. We went to a show at Butler's planetarium, which is strictly circa 1974 in paneling, but a nice show of the sky and cheap yet unique date, if you're of that mind.

You know you're getting old when the coaches are more attractive to you than the players. (Hello there, Coack K!)

Life Lesson For March 16, 2013
When highly irritated that the first whiff of spring brings you not the sweet smell of newly growing grass from your yard, but the pungent odor of your neighbor's big dog's feces, it is not acceptable to take a shovel and fling said dog feces into the middle of the street. When called on this, it also not acceptable to take a bag of your neighbor's big dog's feces and bring them into the office. For what? DNA testing?

Stickshifts and Safety Belts
I have a 2007 Volkswagen Jetta Wolfsburg edition. Sooner or later, it's going to start breaking down and costing a small ransom to fix. I've had an ancient boogar green Rabbit, a 1984 Jetta and a 1984 BMW 318i. German cars are wonderful enginereeing creations but crazy expensive to fix. One of the greatest memories of my Dad is when he did a tune-up of my BMW and was literally left slack jawed when he found out the plugs and wires were well over $100 back in 1990. He had encouraged me to buy a used Chevy Cavilier, but I bought the BMW instead and damn, I loved that car. And when I went on vacation, my Dad, who had badmouthed my BMW from the start, after driving me to airport in the BMW, drove my car the entire time I was gone, much to the amusement of many. When I look at cars now, though, there is nothing new I want to drive. I love driving a manual transmission and flappy paddle shifting? Uh no. Unless I could drive one of those bad ass Mercedes Kompressors, which are far off my price range. As a result, I will nurse the Wolfsburg though its daily drives over the Ronald and keep stepping on my clutch.

I need to start writing again. I need some sort of outlet for all the craziness I deal with at work. I do not, however, intend to be Dooced, so identifying details and work talk in general may be scarce.

Bare facts. I have embarked upon a journey in the housing industry. I work in the office of a rather large community here in Indianapolis and I am trying not to lose my faith in the future of humanity. The general stupidity of some humans never ceases to both amaze and depress me. Chickens are not an inside pet, okay?

I do love my job, mostly. It's stressful, but also hilarious, like what I imagine certain reality tv shows that I've never watched (and never intend to watch) might be like. Shows like Honey Child Boo Boo Head (whateverhernameis) or Swamp People or the bounty hunter dude with the orange "tan", extensions that not even Lindsay Lohan would slap on her drug-addled head and the wife who obviously owns only an overworked make-up mirror. Dog! I can't believe I couldn't remember that, since I remain a crazy dog lady. And yes, I do expect to see the Intervention crew go rolling by any day now, but not for me as the subject. This is Indiana, why smoke demon weed or just drink a forty when you can mix up some meth in an off brand Mt. Dew bottle in a Wal-Mart bathroom? Off brand Mt. Dew you've shoplifted, I might add. From Wal-Mart. Anyone who sees your mugshot will know your entire life story just by looking at that side neck tattoo you so proudly sport.

The tangent. My ruling planet.

I'm still the true crime and news junkie I have always have been. I've been half ass watching the Jodi Arias trial but it's moving so slowly and she's such a garden variety narcissist/sociopath, she's practically boring. For those of you who haven't heard of Jodi Arias, she is on trial in Arizona for the particularly gruesome murder of her boyfriend, who had relegated her to a booty call and girl just lost it. She stabbed him twenty-seven times, slit his throat and shot him. After having sex with him, photographing said sex, and photographing him in the shower after sex. As you do. She's claiming she was abused and was scared of him, claims it was self-defense after she dropped his camera and he became "enraged" and it pisses me off on behalf of all the women who truly have been abused. She's told at least three different stories, passed a magazine in the jail visiting room with a message inside to a friend, warning the friend about what the friend said to police, she showed up at his house, several hours away, with a gun. A gun she stole from her grandparents. Pulease. My Pomeranian would look at her and say, "Really girl?"

I had occasion to be in Michigan for a week recently. I was a little surprised to find out, it's not home anymore. I had a wonderful time having dinner with two old friends, spent time with my father-in-law, visited my favorite hometown steakhouse, ran into a friend I've know since kindergarten but then I came home. To Indy.

Naptown rocks.

Ugh, Chris Brown is on the Today show. Why am I even watching this horrible misogynistic man boy?

Mia's ninth birthday was last week-end and her two BFFs, Onievea and Tajana spent the night. They had great fun, and this year, no one cried even once. Last year, we had six girls and everyone cried at least once. They are all three such great little girls. I'm glad Mia has such good friends. She's struggled a bit in this neighborhood, mostly because she goes to a different school, since she's in the Horizons program. She doesn't ride the bus with them, so she hasn't had much of a chance to get to know them. She plays with the girls that live behind us a bit, but they are strange, nearly feral children.

I'm a true crime buff and I just have to ask, What's up with the cannibalism lately? Disturbing trend, and unlike other psychological aspects of crime, that's one I just have zero interest in. I can no longer read crimes about children, haven't been able to for a while, and cannibalism is vying for the top of the list now.

Last summer, we adopted a shiz tsu. She was in bad shape when we got her; worms, fleas, obviously shaved with someone's beard trimmer. I'm pretty sure the young couple we adopted her from used that money to immediately go buy a bag of meth. Molly has progressed very well, though, and she's a sweet dog. She was supposed to be either mine or Mia's, but she's definitely Martin's dog. Who could have guessed, Martin has a shiz tsu.

Hey Kids

Nearly two years since I have written anything on this. I'm still alive and kicking. So much has changed and yet so much has remained the same. We bought a house. We love it, but it needs cosmetic work. Lots of cosmetic work. TW a.k.a. DC a.k.a. my MIL lives with us. Every day is a new adventure. I got fired twice in a row. I apparently am no longer capable of holding a job. I love Downton Abbey even though the Brits in my everyday life (I'm outnumbered these days) are annoying on purpose to which they would say, "Brilliant!" and view it as an achievment. I love Mad Men. And yes, yes, yes I will be the green eggs in Jon Hamm's ham. We adopted a wonderful little shih-tzhu named Molly. Total dog count: Three. Me = Crazy Dog Lady Mia is wonderful, Dexter is doing what he needs to be doing. I just wrote an impassioned five paragraph op-ed (?) essay (?) regarding the tea party in Indiana and how kooky they are and I had to take it down. I will, however, editorialize to say this: Remember the Schoolhouse Rock short films? I'm just a bill/on capitol hill, etc. Remember those? The most simple components of democracy. Watch those again. Think about them. You can do this because it appeals to your "intellect." ohhh, sort of sorry.

Tales From My Crypt

Blame The Damn Merry Munchkin, Mitch

We finally purchased a second vehicle. Namely, my vehicle. I started off interested in a Cadillac, was horrified by the annual license plate fee (in the neighborhood of $500) and quickly lost all interest in a Cadillac. Besides, am I that much of an old lady? I get my first Cadillac at 44? Such a cliche.

Instead, I got a kick ass VW Wolfsburg Edition Jetta. It's fast, it's nimble, it's sporty but high end and I fly completely under the radar. Of course, the first thing I did was ask Martin to put on my Death Hag sticker.

My car is a 2007; my plates still cost nearly $400, more than a monthly car payment. Apparently, The Damn Merry Munchkin did something to lower property taxes but raised plate fees. I didn't read the whole scenario, my eyes were rolling so much I was afraid they would roll right out of my noggin. I admit, I'm not as well-versed in Indiana politics as I should be. Maybe this wasn't even The Damn Merry Munchkin's idea, but everything I've read about his policies, I think exactly the opposite and I just dislike the guy so he makes an easy target. Besides, from what I've seen, it's just like something he would do.

I thought I was getting shoes for my birthday, but instead I'm getting license plates. Ain't that grand? I'm so responsible. Twenty years ago, I would have been artistic with the white-out and milked that temporary tag til the tape curled and it fell off the back window and just bought the damn shoes.

Conversations

We've been getting a lot of calls lately that show up on the caller I.D. as IN ST FOP which I can figure out is the Indiana State Fraternal Order of Police, looking for money. I'd already told them no a few months ago, I'm sketpical if this is the legitimate thing, but I guess they thought they'd try the pond again. Finally, I shoved the phone at Martin and told him to take care of it. I hear him telling the person on the other end that yes, his wife made a donation just last week, by golly!

When he hung up, I asked him, "Did you just lie to the state police?"

Martin said, "Yes, I did, I wanted to get him of the phone, I'm trying to watch Futurama and play Children of The Nile." (Geek.)

Mia: "You lied to the POLICE?!?", clearly agog with this news.

Me: "Your turn to explain."

Growing Into The Bitch

I'm going to be 44 next month, as Martin keeps reminding me. He has been saying this since January, which, okay, but really, I don't need to hear it in the various versions of "Well, in seven months, you'll be 44!" I keep reminding him, it's not until July.

This has become my Year of the Bitch.

It's rather glorious.

I no longer have patience for bullshit in any of it's forms. You tell me I owe something, I know I've paid it, I'm not making one iota of effort to prove it; your dumb ass will figure it out sooner or later. If you can't smile at me or say hello when I come into your store or go through your check-out line, don't expect me to do anything other than roll my eyes and shake my head at you; if you didn't want to be a cashier at Kroger's, why didn't you get off your ass and reach for something else? And guess what? Lots of the cashiers who's lines I go through regularly, they like their jobs, they like the people, the regulars. It's a pleasant moment for me as well and that's why I go there. Dumb ass.

I'm not a Republican anymore and I haven't been for a long time. I do not intend to return to the tub of grape Flav-R-Ade anytime soon. If I was any more liberal, I'd cross into Granola Territory, and trust me, I'm not going there anytime soon; I enjoy shaving my legs and wearing cute leather shoes and steak is always on my menu, baby.

If you are conservative, well, if we like each other, we just won't talk politics because if we do, if you bring up Sarah Palin for any reason whatsoever, I will instantly dismiss and never take your intellect seriously anymore. That's okay, though; you will think the same of me. In that, we must agree to disagree. That doesn't mean I hate you; it just means we can respect each others choice to agree to disagree and that's part of what being a grown up is all about. Respect for those who are different from you, no matter the way.


My last ex was such a Rapid Republican; I can't help but laugh at myself in those days; I was brainwashed, stupid, trained to ignore hypocrisy, and just generally deluded. When I re-discovered my own opinion, it was rainbows and unicorns to my heart.

I was a Stepford Wife, but it helped me to grow into The Bitch.

This is what I am and what and who I suspect I will be forevermore. People tend to either love me to death or hate me and wish death upon me. I can respect that.

********
Just realized it's late on a school night for me. Remember when your mom made you go to bed at some ridiculously early hour when it was still daylight and other kids were still out riding their bikes? I do that to Mia now. Meanest Mommy on Earth; just ask her. I try to be the same way about work nights; i.e. those evenings before the days I work. A good nights sleep, which I rarely seem to achieve, and a good pair of shoes, is making a difference in my energy level.

I'm tired and we'll go with the next saga in my very lackluster but embracing the Bitch story of my life.

Not enough hours in the day today.

Working For A Living

Sometimes, fate does smile on me. Not often, but enough to keep me hopeful.

I found a new job. I've been applying to everything I've been remotely qualified for, in addition to filling out online applications to every place I drive by. Nearly all of the Craigs List jobs seem to be scams, making you pull a recent credit report or background check for a job that doesn't exist. Because you know, there is nothing quite so noble as preying on the unemployed. I've applied to everything in the Indy Star, which uses Career Builder, and everyhing on the Indiana Career Connect site. Indiana Career Connect has commericals nearly as annoying as those for Don's Guns.

One of the places I applied to online was a chain of local smoke shops. Since I'd sent approximately 4392 resumes at that point, I was on auto-pilot and instead of clicking on my resume to send, I clicked on a picture of Martin and I that was saved under a title very close to my resume's. Instead of thinking I was a big dunderhead, the lady I sent it to thought it was funny and asked me to resend my resume.

When she finally got my resume, she sent me an email saying she was forwarding it onto the manager of their Indy distribution center. So, now I have a job.

We sell cigarettes, tobacco products, candy and novelties, in quantity. It's not open to the public. We have some real characters for customers and the neighborhood itself is sketchy, in an Indy sort of way, i.e. only Ypsilanti sketchy. Since my co-workers have been there for years and the customers have been coming there for years, a lot of trash talk fills the air. I can trash talk with the best, and when I told one customer who came in with a big bag of change that we didn't take change on Thursdays, he promptly told me, "I'll be back with green" and walked back out to his car. I had to chase him down and tell him I was only kidding.

Eventually, I will be handling the daily reports, payroll and other paperwork. Right now, I'm learning how it works by stocking, running orders and doing whatever needs to be done.

I like it. I feel like I'm a good fit with my co-workers. We close at 4 so I'm usually out no later than 4:30. It's not too far from home, although the transportation thing is a huge pain in my ass since Martin's job is in the other direction and I'm driving a good 40 minutes each way. We're trying to solve that problem with purchasing a second car. I've been exhausted every evening; I'm not used to being on my feet all day. That problem is hopefully solved with the new pair of kicks I got yesterday.

The in-laws came for a visit this week-end, but that's a blog for another day.