Catching up.

In this entry, you get to read all about my traveling adventures over the past month. Starting with a short (read: waste of my time) trip to Chicago for work. Then my adventures teaching at an Inter-Kingdom Squires’ Retreat. And then finally all about my experiences as Ms. Expert Witness.

My trip to Chicago (“OH! This is the reason I don’t like my job!”)

Some of you will recall back when I worked in Texas. Some of you will also be able to recall that the majority of my job tasks were based on tasks no one else wanted to do. And that this led to a reputation of being quite the holy terror of the company. There was panic when I walked into an office unannounced. A manager once even climbed out his window to avoid me. You might even be able to remember that year when for my birthday my CEO gave me business cards identical to my standard ones except instead of my title they read “The Henchman”

One day (now a few weeks ago) all of this came back to haunt me. It was Thursday morning and I got an email from my former CEO. The email was regarding a conference to take place that afternoon and it had been sent to about 12 people. I noticed however that I was the only person outside that territory invited… in fact on closer inspection this call was centered around senior management for Central States North – specifically Chicago. I replied because surely there must be some mistake. Why in the world would I need to be present for this call? The reply I got back was adamant that I was expected… with no explanation.

My first thought? Fuck! They want to transfer me to Chicago.

Time for the call rolls around, I phone in, and everyone is saying their hellos and whatnot when I get another email. This one is from our corporate air fleet informing me that the jet was flying in that night from Texas so we could leave the following morning at 5 a.m. for Chicago, And would I like to request any special snacks or beverages for the trip?

Jet?
Leave?
5 a.m.?
Chicago?
…
What the fuck is going on?

(If you recall my days in Texas, you can also recall my great dislike for the tiny tin can my company refers to as a private jet. And trust me when I say that having access to a private jet isn’t always as glamorous as the movies and the billionaires make it seem. I mean for the plane to fly at full capacity, which is always optimal, someone is actually expected to sit on the toilet. Note I didn’t say “in the bathroom” because the toilet actually sits under one of the seats in the main cabin, seriously.)

30 minutes into the call my purpose is finally revealed…. And I my temper comes to a full boil while I wait for the call to end so I can call my former CEO and lose my shit properly. Cause see by the end of the call it was 6:30 p.m. and I had to call my assistant tell him to pull out his black suit and meet me at the airport at 4:30 a.m. the next morning. Then I had to run to Macy’s to buy me a black suit.

Then my assistant and I both ended up pulling an all nighter at the office to get some reports out that HAD to go out Friday… but we weren’t going to be around to finish them on schedule.

We arrived at the airport at 4:15 a.m. to fly to Chicago… for a 4 hour stay.

So I could fire someone.

That doesn’t even work for me.
That I have never even met.

Thousands of dollars wasted (and not to mention my time) because no one in that entire territory had the balls to fire one lousy guy. I was pissed. I was especially pissed because I was asked to do something that is normally considered incredibly taboo (All senior management is strongly encouraged to not interfere in any way with the management of territories outside their own) as a personal favor and “for old times sake”.

At least our driver was able to locate this great vegan restaurant for us to lunch at on the way back to the airport.

Next!

My venturing out to a weekend Squires’ Retreat (“OH! This is why I love the SCA!”)

Some Knights got together and decided to do an unofficial Inter-Kingdom Squires’ Retreat. A total of 6 Knights and about 35 squires… and me. (okay and the 2 wives that did all the cooking for the weekend).

My name came up after a few guys remembered some classes I taught at a Known World Rattan Symposium a few years back, and I was asked if I would be willing to come out of retirement (did you know I retired? I didn’t know I had retired… maybe a bit of hiatus-ing but not a real retirement.) to teach the squires some manners. Specifically courtesies of the field – requesting a favor, honoring your consort, opponent, opponent’s consort, etc., and field challenges. All vaguely geared towards Crown List, because apparently all Kingdoms seem to be pushing their fighters who have never entered The List before to give it a shot.

I was game and agreed, because honestly? If I ever see a squire sitting on a stool list side the morning of Crown List wearing a sign around his neck stating “Will fight in Crown for food and beer.” again my heart will probably stop and I’m certain there will be tears.

I was a little apprehensive going because I knew so few of the guys attending – so unlike the last squires’ retreat I taught at where I knew every single squire and most I considered family. That was like a family reunion. This? Was a bit intimidating. And after the drama that happened when I worked with some of the squires out here when I first arrived I wasn’t actually certain how I was going to be received.

When I got there late Friday night I noticed something interesting. Most of the squires were well on their way to getting trashed… and not one Knight was drinking. I could literally count the smart squires (the ones following the examples of their Knight) on 1 hand.

When I headed to my room to get some sleep one of the Knights I was sharing a room with informed me of some of the morning plans. Poor squires were going to feel some pain in the morning. Whistles started going off a 6a.m.

By 6:10 the squires who had been under the impression that all that talk about being productive this weekend was really a lie they were telling their wives back home were starting to realize just how wrong they were. And by 6:15 all squires were out of bed… and running laps. By 6:30 the ones who had imbibed a bit too much the night before were losing everything they had behind a bush.

Breakfast at 7:30 wasn’t a cheerful affair.

I had a blast however. I spent all morning sitting on a porch with my feet propped up reading my book and watching the boys drill. There was a short break for lunch and my class was pushed back so the guys could get as much time in fighting before the rains came.

By 3:00 it was raining so hard that even the guys still fighting under the covered pavilion had to stop because the water was lapping over their feet. The guys headed off to shower (I prefer working with clean squires) by the time they had returned to the main hall we had lost power. So I taught my class in gloomy rainy sunlight, but it went really well.

I had planned to head home after dinner, but some of the guys ran into town before dinner for some supplies and when they got back a 6-pack of chic beer was dumped in my lap and I was informed that I may as well start drinking because the rain was too bad for me to drive anywhere.

There was dinner and there was lots of bullshitting (all by lantern light). And I realized all squires in all Kingdoms have the same stories as long as you let the enemy be interchangeable.

For just about everyone it was a fairly early night, the boys were all dead tired and the rain was making everyone really sleepy. I got a few hard hours of sleep in before the electricity came back on blinding the entire room in light… and was just getting back to sleep when a corner of the roof gave way and our room started to flood. I slept on and off for the rest of the night as the water that was coming in from the leaking corner had to flow under my bed to reach the drain.

I woke up early and drove home as quick as I could in the pounding rain so I could crawl my happy ass back into bed for the rest of the day/night. But really all in all it was a really good weekend. I actually had fun and enjoyed myself at an SCA activity. I can’t tell you how long it has been since that has happened. I had enough fun that I’m actually am willing to give my local barony another chance to not suck.

So we shall see. But until then I think Gleann Abhann needs a Squires’ retreat.

Next!

Ms. Expert Witness.

This is where I had planned on telling you all about my new exciting double life as an expert witness for a certain federal authority. That was until I received orders today that I wasn’t allowed to discuss the cases I’m working on with anyone outside of my immediate staff and legal representation. Just know that it is still shiny and new and much more glamorous than having use of the company’s jet.

So in recent months I have become more and more reliant on the blog-o-sphere for a variety of decision making processes. If I’m looking for recipes, I know no longer check out allrecipes.com or recipezaar.com… I go blog stalking. Same for looking for reviews on music, hotels, books, or restaurants. And it is an absolute necessity when in search of a new beauty product. Because of this process I have found quite a few gems and items I never knew I couldn’t live without.

Because let’s face it – I’m THAT girl. THAT girl is never the girl I aspired to be. But being THAT girl does have some perks. My skin wouldn’t be as in nearly as good of condition as it is now (hell, I’m not even sure I would actually have skin with all of the sloughing that has taken place). My house wouldn’t smell nearly as good (and me too, for that matter). And I wouldn’t be nearly so entertained (and no one wants a Bored Sabine trudging around). Yes, of course, when I talk about being THAT girl, I talk about the fact that I’m a ConsumerWhore.

So as our little universe morphs yet again into its new generation the attitude has gravitated much toward the idea of pay it forward, and with that in mind I’ve decided to start adding reviews to the content here at Hell’s Condo. I do a great deal of reviewing over at the tech site… and in the forums, but I never really brought them here, but maybe it is time… or maybe I just need to feel a little less guilty when it comes to my consumer whoreness.

Now I’m not shopping for me – I’m shopping to save you from buyer’s remorse. (Like that? I liked that.)

To kick things off I’m going to start with the item that has literally saved my skin –

Boots Mediterranean Olive, Almond & Sage Wonderbalm

What they say:
This rich moisturizer with nourishing organic olive oil and almond is perfect for drier areas of the body as it delivers instant softness and smoothness. Its just so versatile, this miracle product can be used on knees, heels, cuticles and lips. The fragrant sage oil will take your mind away to luscious Mediterranean landscapes.

What I say:
This stuff is divine. I’ve used it as an intense moisturizer in conjunction with my Moisture Booties. As a cuticle balm. This is what saved my elbows after the abuse they suffered in Arizona. The scent is a great earthy natural scent. It dries clean with no sticky residue, but you can feel the effects long after it has dried, and at less than $10 it easily becomes one of the cheaper items I rub on my skin everyday. While the tiny jar will last you a surprisingly long time, I really wish they would sell it by the gallon.

The best news is that if you haven’t already noticed Boots (a long time UK beauty line) has finally made their products available here in the US. And they make them incredibly easy to locate – both Target and CVS stores now carry the full Boots line.

Rating: 5 out 5 stars

Link: Boots.com

Only for Bri -

Real Moms Nannies forget to teach you how to eat with a fork.

I have been tagged by Bri to participate in the Real Mom Nanny meme that has been working it’s way across the Mom circuit. Basically the rules are this: Put up a post “Real Moms Nannies [insert what you yours do did here]”, followed by an explanation, a picture, and a “Real Moms Nannies. Making ….”. Then tag five people.

I don’t talk about my family much. I don’t talk about my childhood (outside of a few flippant remarks) at all. Mainly because there is just no way for most people to comprehend just what a miserable wreck my family is. But I’ll delve a bit today.

I was born a mistake, a big oops, yet another blemish on my Mother’s record…

No one wanted a kid. Hell I’m fairly certain if I had been given a vote I would have voted “Hell No” as well. The intention was always that I was going to be put up for adoption after birth, but there were some medical issues and a late night attack of conscience… and Mother ended up with a baby to raise on her own. Dad was still in the picture as much as he ever was, but as a rather popular musician he was never around much until the day came when he wasn’t around at all.

That left my Mother, a woman without an ounce of maternal instinct… so she did what she did best – she threw money at the problem till the problem was solved. The solution came in the form of To Lan, my Vietnamese Nanny – the woman who really raised me like a daughter. It was never dull, I can say that. To Lan had never raised a child, let alone an American, before so there were some gaps in my young education. It wasn’t until I got to school that I realized that I didn’t know what a fork was… or how to use one… or that that made me odd. She ate with chopsticks so I learned to eat with chopsticks. She never taught me to pray to a Christian God. She was Buddhist and so she taught me her beliefs. The bed time stories I got weren’t quite the same since my Cinderella was named Tam and her slipper was brocaded. I ate pho for breakfast every morning not knowing that American options included things like biscuits, gravy, and bacon (all of which I now love in unhealthy proportions). She never mentioned that a child was actually supposed to lose her teeth at some point and I think because of that I will always be traumatized.

No, it certainly wasn’t dull.

But she loved me in way no one else ever has. For 3 weeks she slept in a chair next to my hospital bed while my Mother toured Venice. When I had nightmares, she was always there before I even called out. When my Mother was gone for the entire winter holiday season, To Lan was the one who finally packed me up and took me to Hanoi for Tet so I could know what it was like to celebrate the holidays with a family. When I was sad and frustrated, she wiped my tears. When my Mother decided it was time to send me to a boarding school, we wiped each others’ tears. To Lan was the one that without fail showed up for every Parent Day and every birthday. Every care package of contraband goodies came with a loving note from her. And then when I was a teenager she taught me how to swear in Vietnamese so I could impress my friends. She attended my graduation when my Mother forgot to show. She made my veil for my wedding with her own hands.

Relations between my Mother have improved greatly since I entered adulthood. But we look at each other more as friends than we do family. She knows that space in my heart that was reserved for her was filled long ago by another woman. She knows that she gets the second phone call of the day on Mother’s Day. She chose that place. And though we never talk about it, I’m still fairly certain that all of us are incredibly happy with roles we play.

Real Moms Nannies. Making Picking up the slack of lousy Mothers everywhere.

And I’m not tagging anyone since I’m not really hip in the Mommy crowd being all “sans kid and pretty damned pleased about it!”

_{(it helps if you read this out loud to yourself using the strongest Texas twang you can muster… it really does lend the proper character and mood of the words)}

Well another Gulf Wars come and gone. And if you are just now showing up to catch Sabine’s Highlight Reel, then you have missed out and I’m not even certain that I could catch you up.

It wasn’t a great War. It wasn’t a shitty War, although I’ve been informed that I have more than enough right to refer to it as such. Luckily entirely too many people love me entirely too much. And I’m not sure why cause I sure as hell don’t deserve it.

But I think I’m going to end up chalking this War up as an odd one. Maybe in few weeks when things settle and my laundry is finally all washed; maybe then I can move it to the “good” column… but for now? We shall stick with odd.

Every year, I’ve offered a recap. This year it is just too much to take in. There were a lot of highs and a lot of lows… a lot of angry and mean but also a lot of happy and fun. Some disappointments but some surprises. Honestly looking back everything balanced itself out fairly damn well and really turned out for the best all the way around. (Don’t you hate it when it does that?)

But Hell, it took Liam 30 minutes with a flowchart and 5 PowerPoint slides just to comprehend 9 hours of my life at War. So starting with Friday morning and the text message that went something like “Just now getting on the road (2 hours late)… had to clean the blood off the floor… and pick the glass shards out of my foot… and cry… I cried a lot.” would just be kinda ludicrous.

So I’m taking the wussy way out this year. All of you know the drill, you pick the people, you give a comment, it’s all anonymous, and designed to make everyone paranoid. But? Just to let some of you off the hook there are only 25 people on this list and when you take into account the 3600+ people onsite you can extrapolate that I had to leave one or 2 of you out. Hell, I can think of more than handful right off the top of my head that should be on here but aren’t.

So we shall now commence with the giving of Sabine’s War Recap (You are still using that Texas accent, right?) –

(Read on …)

So, Carl Moustakas said…
Accept everything about yourself — I mean everything. You are you and that is the beginning and the end — no apologies, no regrets.

Accept everything about myself? Ok. It may be temporary (Fate knows it has been so before…) but for right now that comes amazingly easy for me.

It helps that at the 2 times in my life when I began to feel as if my life was getting away from me and turning into something I didn’t recognize that I found myself picking up that strange life and moving it across the country to a place where I only had myself to rely on.

The first time came when I was running from HeWhoMustNotBeNamedButShallRotInPrison.  I found myself broken, but even worse… a stranger in my own skin. As always the first step to healing is acceptance. I did a lot of accepting.  And in that I learned just who I had become in the years that I wasn’t free.  Frankly?  I was disgusted at who I was. For months I hid myself away.  Almost a year passed before I even attempted to get out start to meet people.  I had to learn to become someone that I could love and accept before I would be willing to introduce that person to others.  But the day came when it wasn’t so hard to venture outside of my home.  That I was a strong enough person to go out in public for dinner or a movie by myself, and later on with new friends I had made (infinitely scarier than the act of going it alone).

The person I became wasn’t always a person I could be proud of, but it was someone I could accept. I still had a bevy of issues to deal with, but I had every right to those issues… I had earned them.  Ask Jenn someday the sheer panic that trampled me when the first guy asked me out on a date.  It wasn’t the proudest moment of my life, but I was just happy to feel that I had something to otherwise be proud of.

Then last year it happened again.  I was going and going and going.  I wasn’t stopping.  I’m not even sure I would have known how.  I caught myself in this life that was amazing, but I couldn’t keep up. I couldn’t find a balance.  I was going to events to relax, because doing all the things I used to do at an event was a serious step down in my activity level.  I had stopped sleeping.  Not like I was down to the 2-4 hours a night I’m getting now – more like 2 hours every 3 days.  I just never stopped.  I was in a relatively unhealthy but “safe” relationship. Work was driving me to drink. The drama wasn’t stopping.  And I began to forget myself.

And then one Monday morning it all came to a slamming halt.  I was leaving again, and while I had no real desire to leave it could not have come at a better time. I wasn’t to my breaking point, but it was just around the corner. So I went back into seclusion.  Other than the daily phone calls with Sarah and Chris and my contact thru my websites, I spoke to no one.  Once again I found myself with a need to start over and become that person that I could love again.

And possibly, I’m still working on it.  I love myself once again, I’m even someone that I feel is worthy of being allowed in public.  And I find that the healing is almost complete.  I can go days without thinking of my past. I can speak my mind without fear.  I can make a mistake without feeling the need to berate myself. Having a man in my life, doesn’t have me holding my breath waiting for the bottom to fall out of my world.  Which is a wonderful thing since whether I can say it out loud or not; I am in a relationship now.  And for the first time in more years than I can remember; it is a healthy one that is giving me absolutely everything I need (and a few things I didn’t know I wanted)… and still leaves me wanting more.

So every day it gets a bit easier to live this life with no regrets.  I can now say that I don’t regret the decisions I have made that have brought me where I am.  I could very easily.  No one would blame for wishing I had kept on walking the night HeWhoMustNotBeNamedButShallRotInPrison stopped me in that bar, but amazingly enough I don’t.  I learned so much from that experience that I can’t possibly wish it gone.  And I continue to learn from it and the other mistakes I make.  And if that day comes when I seriously fuck it all up again, then I’ll know how to deal with it.  How to evolve.

Ready for another cover?

I dig this. It actually took me over half the song to realize exactly that this was a cover. Not only brilliance, bloody bloody brilliance. Hand over fist better than the original. What? We all know I have a thing for guys standing on stage with nothing more than a guitar…

My future Pelican is getting Pelicanized (about damn time!!!)

Now the only thing left to do is figure out how to make him think that this protege idea was all his to begin with… and plan him the most fan-damn-tabulous party I can think of.

Anybody got a disco ball I can borrow?

Something else I can talk about is my new apparent need to become a rabbit. You wouldn’t believe my current eating habits. I haven’t had any sort of meat in well over 2 weeks, hell I even ordered a pizza this weekend and it was vegetarian. And this week, I took it even one step further, all my food? Raw. I’m not trying to be a rabbit. It just kinda happened. I made a pact with myself a few weeks ago to cut out all drive-thru meals, cause I spend too much time in my car and drive-thru becomes too easy. It just isn’t healthy. Apparently my stomach interpreted that as ALL FOOD MUST COME FROM THE FARMER’S MARKET, but that isn’t really what I had in mind either. So I don’t think I’m doing it to be healthy and if I am, I’m so blaming Sarah and her health kick.

…oh… maybe that is it. Maybe this was all part of the mojo trade off. If so, it looks like I didnt give everything back as promised.

Sarah? You aren’t by chance having dinner at Sonic tonight, are you?

Update: My stomach just remembered that sushi is in fact raw and it’s okay with that. So I’m going to take advantage of that and go have a real meal before it changes it’s mind.

So what do you talk about when the thing that is first and foremost in your mind is something you can’t talk about? And the second thing is an uber secret evil plan with an emphasis on the secret part?

…

The Blackberry Green Tea Frappuccino doesn’t suck near as much as I expected it to. I may even dig it a bit… well as much as I can dig a Starbuck’s beverage that has no coffee in it.

…

Yeah, I got nuthin’.

…

Oh! Sarah asked for songs! Songs I can do. In fact a while back I ran across a song that really spoke to me and it reminds me of Sarah a bit, as well. Cause while the changes we are going thru aren’t the same we are both going thru a changing stage whether we like it or not…
So here you go, Sarah. Love you.

“In Your Own Way” by Caleb Kane

And take a minute to reflect in your own way
Take your time and connect in your own way
I know it’s good to be alone some days
But you got a long face in your own way, baby
I know you got a big heart in your own way
Independent and smart in your own way
And even though you get along somehow
You’re missing out now in your own way, baby

And since you asked so nicely I’ll even let you borrow my 2 personal anthems.

“One Hit Wonder” by Everclear

and

“Walk the Walk” by Poe

I’ll be dead.

This weekend I encountered 2 very different types of boys. The first, after a very unexpected phone call, had me sleeping like a baby for a good portion of the night. But the second? The second had me up all night pawing thru closets and pacing the floors.

If I’m lucky I might get 2 or 3 hours of sleep on an average night and woe to the boy who takes That away from me. It makes me grumpy almost as grumpy as the fact that all of my brilliant moments come at 3 a.m. This boy in question?

James.

Yesterday in a volley of phone calls this evil plan of James’ was born. An evil plan, which I love. An evil plan, which involves me dressing up. An evil plan, which enables me to play with accessories. An evil plan, that after trying on just about everything I own it was decided that I’m going to have to start from scratch.

Now talking to Sarah, we worked out a plan where I was at least starting with a base garment that I already owned. It wasn’t perfect but it would work and I wouldn’t have to stress over having to start from the beginning…

Until 3 a.m. this morning.

When I realized that I had been an idiot. When I realized that the entire night the perfect fabric for this was already in a box prepped and ready to go to Amalia and with a bit of tweaking would be perfect. Now I just have to track down my seamstress and beg for that dress to be done a month earlier.

And then find accessories.

And probably end up having to make accessories.

This hurts, James. It’s a good pain but it hurts. That is until I wind up burning my fingers on a glue gun, then? Well then I only have 2 words of advice for you, James.

Shin Guards.

Cause it will be all your fault.

(Read on …)

Ok we all know I can be a fabric whore (we do all know that, right?) I buy fabric like others buy socks. The only person I know that rivals my fabric purchasing is Sarah.

On my last trip to Texas, I think I bought something like 150 yards of fabric and in it was a 10 yard piece of linen/rayon blend that was this great quirky black and white crossweave. I was cool with it being a blend cause I dug the crossweave, and I was really looking for something that would look sharp with my tippets. I have them and oddly enough have no cotes to go with them. So I thought this fabric would be perfect… until I washed it.

In prepping a fabric sendoff to Amalia I wash everything I can right before I box it up. Amalia has severe allergies and the fragrances I use in my house she is highly allergic to so I try to do what I can to not kill her. So pulling the fabric out of the washing machine, I noticed that things weren’t looking as good as they were when the fabric was sitting on my shelf begging to be cut up. Reaching my hand into the dryer was a nightmare. My linen/rayon? Is more of a rayon/_linen and I could tell by touching it that it wasn’t going to fly. I took it outside on the balcony to see it in the light. And while yes, it still looks great, it won’t wrinkle, and it drapes marvelously… I still didn’t want to use it. And I couldn’t really figure out why but I was chalking it up to the rayon content. Going back to the fabric closet I pulled out other options and this is where I really started to confuse myself… one of my perfectly acceptable options was a solid purple with very nearly the same rayon content.

I sat on my balcony for 20 minutes with these 2 hunks of fabric trying to figure out the differences. It has finally hit me. The purple? Nothing special about it. From 5 feet away it’s passable and no one would even give the cote or the fabric content a second thought. It would just be Sabine in yet ANOTHER purple cote.

The black and white? From 5 feet away it’s passable as well, but? People will notice the crossweave… and they will want to look at it… and touch it. And then they will know I’m a fake. And that? Just isn’t acceptable.

So the black and white went back on the shelf… and cause I was so pissed at myself so did the purple. And Amalia? She’s getting forest green silk from me on Wednesday.

P.S. Can you tell I’m gearing up for eventing? Cause I am or Sarah will kick my ass… and with her current mood she could probably do it without ever leaving her couch.

It was brought to my attention by one of the many Keepers that I am obviously going to need more than one DrunkDress if I plan to make it thru an entire War dressed properly. See the idea was that after my first War my Keepers began to complain because as I drank more it became harder and harder to keep track of me… I apparently have a tendency to wander when I’m tipsy. And a drunk girl wearing a black dress in a crowd of people is hard to find especially when you vowed to protect her with your life.

So there was some insisting and finally the DrunkDress was born - a hot pink monstrosity of a cotehardie that my seamstress disavows all knowledge of. It’s wonderful. Anyone over 6 foot only has to look out over the crowd of a party to spot me. Why? Cause I glow in that dress. Shortly after that the DrunkChupa came along for those cold winter DrunkNights. And today? Today, I bought 8 yards of fabric for DrunkDress ver.2

Behold the most beautiful butt ass ugly fabric known to man… or at least to me in my 2 hours of searching today -

and it is 100% linen!!! It’s going to make a kickass cote.

Coming soon to a Gothic Wars and Gulf Wars Girls’ Night Out near you.

My allergies have my brain all stuffy.

Must.find.nasal.attachment.on.vacuum.

You get a meme. I get nose spray. And we are all good, right?

(Read on …)

Ok obviously some of you are under some mistaken impressions here.

I? Am not a nice person. Really, I’m not unless it suits me to be so.

I would corrupt your morals, sell your soul, and eat your kittens if I thought for one second it would get me my coffee a minute earlier in the morning. Don’t try and delude yourself.

I will cheat at cards.
When it is just more fun to do so, I will lie.
If you do something stupid, you will become my newest punchline.
And yes, I really am just that mean. It’s all part of the charm.

And in other news? I’m still not fucking pregnant. Damn Asshats

My radio station just played Tesla. I love Tesla. I’m not sure why, especially since as a rule I hate all music if it’s been released more than 13 minutes. But Tesla? Tesla makes me melt.

So quickly -
Where have I been? Playing host to my Mother all week. If that wasn’t enough, work has been semi crazy especially since with the raise I actually feel the need to work harder than I have been (or something equally insane as that). Desk arrived so there has been much setting up of the office (finally). Mother worked her magic and totally rearranged my home so I have had to search for my toothbrush and coffee cup every morning.

How’s life, Sabine? Doing good… even close to settling on great, and if I can say that on the tail end of a week long visit from my Mother then life must be fucking fantastic.

Did you learn something new this week? Yep. I learned that you can’t be boy crazy on your own schedule apparently it sets it’s schedule to someone else’s appointment book… and it doesn’t always happen at the most convenient time for you.

Any new and exciting plans for the weekend? Yes. For a bit now I have been wanting to head over to Orlando, grab a hotel room, and spend a few days shopping. Cause the shopping is much better over there. So I decided that after spending the weekend with my Mother I deserved it. And then there is the matter of that bonus check burning a hole in my bank account. So I’m going. And I am taking a friend… a friend that used to be something more than a friend, but as always I’m the idiot who believes that exes can be friends after the fact. We are renting a Tahoe… He plans on golfing… I plan on spending money (cause I have a Tahoe to fill)… then we plan on drinking ourselves stupid, because after this week we both need that. We do not plan on eloping despite how happy that would make Sarah. If I’m not terribly hung over and hating life on Sunday, I’ll let everyone know how the whole “trying to be friends” thing worked out.

Or we can just all start making assumptions now…

Well I figured out a surefire way to make a Sabine happy…
Give the girl a raise… and a huge ass bonus. Then? All good.

I can never keep my annual review dates straight, cause as a manager I get like 7 different types of reviews a year and honestly this is the first time in my 5 years here that I have made it 1 year in the same position so I could warrant an actual year review… and really I didn’t even make it a year. When I got my promotion in January we opted to wait till my annual review to make any decisions on pay and such since my original date would give me a full quarter in the new job… negating that pesky 90 day review.

And if you will remember I have been here 1 year as of April 1. (Has it really been a year???)

So Mr. UPSMan brought me my little review package from New Jersey. And I? Obviously rock cause these idiots gave the girl who is already making official StupidMoney™ a raise!!!

Damn, I’m giddy. And am no longer feeling the least bit guilty for blowing $800 bucks on a dining room table desk. Yeah, this weekend I finally broke down (after a year, apparently) and bought a dining room table desk.

Of course any normal person is going to walk into my home office and ask me why I have my dining room table in there. But it isn’t a dining room table… ok well maybe the original purpose might have been vaguely dining room-ish, but we shall fix that.

I had some really great arguments for buying what I did.

Like I wanted something to give me room on top for 3 monitors, printer, and the 3 docking stations for the babies. Plus still giving me a good sized writing area to junk up.
Check - My new dining room table desk is 54″x40”

And I wanted room underneath to fit all my machines, router, switch, and battery backup.
Check - My dining room table desk has no pesky tiny leg cubby underneath plenty of room to junk things up!

I also wanted something that would enable me to use my drafting chair and forego your traditional desk chair.
Check - at 36″ tall I can actually feel tall for once in my life.

I didn’t want any pesky drawers, cause let’s face it … I would just junk them up and then one day I would either slam my finger in one of them or put a hole in my knee from catching a corner.
Check - my new dining room table desk is almost Sabine-proof… to bad the corners aren’t rounded.

I wanted something that would match all my pretty bookcases and while the store I bought the shelves from had matching dining room tables they do not sell desks… and especially not a desk that would meet all my requirements for a desk… but they did have a dining room table desk that was pretty much perfect.

(Read on …)