*STILL* not Michelle

*ring ring*

Ms.B: Hello?

Stranger: Hi Michelle!

Ms.B: ... This isn't Michelle.

Stranger: It's Not?

Ms.B: ... No. I get calls from her all the time still and I've had the phone for a year and a half..

Stranger: Oh! I'm sorry. I did it again, didn't I!?

Ms.B: No problem. Bye!!

*****

This Michelle chick either keeps forgetting her new number when asking people to call, is really slow to hand out her new number to those she knows, or she has horribly bad friends and family who can't keep track of her worth a damn.


Ms.B

Pug + Home Remodel = STUPID OWNER

A nasty migrane woke me up at the butt-crack of dawn. A handful of drugs and more sleep later I decided to call into work for the day. It's not often that Ms.Behaved suffers from a head-ache so I figured "What the Hell".

Now that a few additional hours have gone by, my head, though still pounding, is at a pain level that I am able to deal with while moving around so I decided to be productive. I patched the nail holes in the guest room walls (which are now a lovely shade of primer instead of pine-tree-green) and decided I'd caulk the trim around the door in the bathroom as well since I plan to be painting it in the very near future. No sooner had I run a bead of caulk from floor to tip-top of the door frame when I looked down to see the Monkey with caulking all over his face frantically attempting to lick it off. "!@#@$&*!"

With lightening reflexes, I scooped him up and stuck him in the sink for a good face scrub. Luckily he seemed to enjoy the process (crazy!) and was none the worse for wear. I then finished smoothing out the remaining caulk and decided to blog while it dried. About the time I was typing the "!@#@$&*!" above I looked down at him and sure enough, a new batch of caulk was on his face.

Back to the sink for another scrub. Of course, this time I was astute enough to close the bathroom door when I was done. Needless to say, I've been more productive than I planed. The walls were patched, the door was caulked (twice) and the Monkey has a clean face to boot!

Ms.B

Secrets...

Keeping a secret is a talent. Depending on the seriousness of the subject matter, it can kill you inside! I am lucky to fall into the category of people who are, in fact, able to keep a secret. At least, I can keep it if you TELL me its a secret. Otherwise I might just blab it to the world without realizing. Oops. My bad.

A few days ago a co-worker, J, took me to her office on the sly and told me she is quitting. J is one of the best employees our company has ever had and I am distressed with her leaving. She's a "good energy" type of person who doesn't wait for things to happen but instead jumps in and makes them happen. The type that you are grateful to have as a co-worker, yet hope that your boss doesn't compare you to them because you fear you'd never measure up.

I have mixed emotions about my secret. I am sad to see J go. She's been a support for me on both a professional and a personal level. My family wasn't able to attend my wedding, and J sat next to me that day before the ceremony in the place of my parents. If it wasn't for the friendship and support that she gave me I highly doubt that I'd have met and married the man I did. Yet, I know that she has great ambitions inside of her and I've always known this day was coming. She is moving to an impoverished country and doing volunteer work in an orphanage. Those children are going to be so blessed by her presence there, and I have no doubt in my mind that she will be equally touched by them. But still, it is hard to see her go. I know it won't be the same here without her. We have to share her with the world. Boo for sharing. sigh

I've posted her job opening on the necessary websites and arranged for it to run in the local newspaper this weekend. I've had to do this all in secrecy, however, because she hasn't yet made the formal announcement that she is leaving. I've spent the morning smuggling resumes and applications into her office. I am grateful that I won't be involved in the decision of who will replace her. No one would even come close. What can I say, I'm biased.

Secret Joy

Driving around town can be an adventure. People are in a super damn hurry at times and apparently they don't care about the lives of those around them. Getting to McDonalds 45 seconds sooner is worth the risk. BASTARDS! Which is why I experience extreme joy when I can carry out what I call "Crazy Ass Driver Intervention". By this, I mean that I am able to maneuver my car into a position where they can't get past me and put everyone's lives in grave peril. Yes, I know that doing this will ignite their road rage and most likely they'll wish they could hit my bumper and drive me off the road, however Heinous Bitch couldn't care less about that small fact.

Today as I approached the final turn to work, a white construction truck crossed three lanes, swerved around me, raced to the light and then slammed on his breaks to make the turn. The turn he made cut across the first lane and he ended up on the far left. I noted the speed of the cars ahead. Being the observant girl that I am, I was aware of an increased speed limit sign hidden behind a tree right after that turn. I stayed to the right and surged ahead where I was able to eventually merge over into the left lane and keep a happy pace with a car in the right lane. The white truck was stuck behind me. Ain't I a stinker?

It's a trivial thing, and he most likely never realized what happened. But it has made my entire morning. Weeee!!

Ms.B

Attack of the Fertile Girls

Tomorrow will be the first gathering of the "friends from college" this year. The event: Double Baby Shower. Yes, not one but TWO of my friends are almost ready to pop. Damn Fertile Bitches! They are so cute and fun and pregnanty looking. Their babies will be adorable and sweet and smell so nice. I'm happy and excited for the party on one hand and green with envy on the other. Not just a regular green. A lime-freakin-gimmee-gimmee sort of green. BAH!

The best part of it is that I need to get gifts which means more SHOPPING. WOOO! All my envy aside, I really do look forward to the get-togethers that we have each time someone has a child. We always descend upon the home of our hostess with gifts and food galore. By the end of the night we've all promised that we're going to get together more often (!! ... right.) and reminisce about the good old days when we were all students in college and didn't have the stresses (and pleasures) of married life.

The girls I befriended in school are among the neatest people I've ever known. They've blessed my life in more ways than I can count, as corny as that sounds. But this is the last set of friends who are having their first child. The only one left without children now... is me. sigh While the other women sit in a circle and discuss the cute things that "Little Johnny" did, I will be sharing my proud stories of a monkey that knows how to 'sit'. How twisted is that? And yet, even though I am not part of the Mommy Club I will still enjoy myself. And ya know what? I really will be okay even if I am never in that club. Because deep down inside, I know that I have a good life regardless of the milestones that I may or may not have reached. So I don't have babies. I have a wonderful supportive family who cares about me. And as an extra bonus, the sweetest, sassiest, most exciting man I've ever met decided that he could tolerate marrying me and having me around forever more. How can a girl complain?

Blog Therapy

Story Time

Once upon a time (in 2004 to be precise) there lived a young girl named Ms.Behaved who worked as the H.R. Manager of her company. There came a day when a mass exodus of staff from the Dietary Department caused a great need for some help and the manager of said department went to Ms.Behaved and begged her to find them a new staff who could save them from their world of hurt.

Ms.Behaved was a clever hottie and very determined to save the day. Alas, she didn't know many people who were looking for an entry-level position and the only person who came to mind was her ex-boyfriend. Now, this ex-boyfriend in question was a good lad, just a little on the slow side. He was in his mid-twenties and still lived at home with his mommy with no ambition for continuing his education or find his own place. (Ambition makes all the difference, yes?) Ms.B also knew that he hadn't had a job (or paycheck) for a little over a year and wondered if maybe some vim and vigor had grown inside of him since the time they had dated. On a whim, she dialed his number and nonchalantly asked him if he knew of anyone who was looking for a job cooking and washing dishes. He said he didn't recall anyone but that he'd let her know if that changed. A short time later Mr. PBM be-bopped into her office stating that he wanted to apply to work in the kitchen.

*Angel choir sings* AHHHHHHHHHHH

At long last the kitchen had an employee who was reliable and could show up for any shift he was assigned. Mr. PBM actually made Ms.B proud with his work performance and over time he eventually worked his was into the management position in the department. Miraculously, the two of them got along swimmingly as co-workers even though he was still licking the wounds that their break-up had caused. Ms.B suspected that he still cared for her but she ignored those thoughts and moved on with her life eventually meeting and marrying a handsome foreigner.

At last, the Dietary Department had a dependable leader... or so we thought.


THE END

UGH! Mr. PBM is an idiot!
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*Der* Left his brain cell at home

If smoke could come out of the ears of someone who was truely angry, I'd have set off the alarms at work today. CODE RED! CODE RED!!

Being a strawberry blonde, I enjoy the freedom of claiming "ditzy blonde" moments. Alas, I also suffer from having a side of me that I fondly refer to as Heinous Bitch! After all, red-heads have a temper, doncha know!

Heinous Bitch made an appearance today at approximately 9:00 a.m. when my carefully organized General Orientation class fell apart due to the stupidity of a co-worker, aka "The ex-boyfriend who likes Peanut Butter & Mustard sandwiches" aka Mr. PBM. A few years ago, after much annoyance with the fact that our facility didn't have a formal orientation class, I snatched an opportunity to create one and implement it. Since that day, it has been my baby. My unpredictable, naughty, sometimes rebellious baby. I do my best to keep things organized and running like clockwork and all things considered, it usually goes quite well. Today, however, my streak of happy, care-free orientations ended when Mr. PBM decided to have three staff, who were NOT on my scheduled list, show up. Sadly, I don't speak thier language, and they don't speak mine, so I was unable to tell them that I had already organized a separate training for them. They wanted to stay, and stay they did. Which left me dashing around this morning making three additional copies of the 2" thick Orientation binder that each employee receives.

The presentation for my Rehab department went quite well except that there was a corner of the room buzzing in another language, begging to copy answers they didn't understand from others' papers and disrupting the rest of the group. And trying to see things from their point of view, their dumb-ass boss told them to come to these classes. Classes they don't understand. Classes that probably make them feel a little insecure and embarassed.

STUPID MR. PBM! I really do have feelings of hatred for you today!

I think my main annoyances are for the following reasons:

* Mr. PBM has already shown signs of being an idiot in the past (Hence the reason he's my ex.)
* I HATE looking foolish (though I'm so good at it) and showing up to a scheduled training session short a few binders doesn't look good. ARG
* I came in 2 hours early this morning (aka "gave up 2 hours of sleep") so that I could make some last minute binders and organize things. If I'd known I needed 3 additional binders I'd have made the damn things. ARG ARG
*Mr. PBM is an idiot!!!
* An applogy would have decreased the anger festering deep down inside by at least 35%.
* These gals are NOT going to learn the information that they need. They are just going to coast through the next few days by copying down information and not really getting it.

All that aside, the rest of the presentations are going well so far. And with a little luck, they'll continue to do well for the next 2 days. *knock on wood* Once this class is over it will be a month or more before I am once again blogging about the drama and joys of Orientation.

Gah! Mr. PBM is an idiot.

Ms. B

So Smart

Last weekend while on an outing to the local pet store, the monkey and I were minding our own business, admiring the tropical fish when three young puppies and their hoomans came around the corner near where we were standing. Monkey immediately smoothed back his hair, did a breath-check in his paw and struck his Ain't I Adorable pose. There at the front of the pack was the object of his sudden Rico Suave attitude. She was the most adorable longhaired dachshund; the first pup I've ever seen that made Gus preen. Once she was within sniffing distance he couldn't get to her fast enough. There in the store, nose to nose, they had a "moment". I'm still not sure if the proper reaction should have been "Awwwwwww", or embarrassment followed by a quick exit from the store. Luckily her hooman seemed flattered by his attention (after all, he was being a gentleman, and is fixed to boot) and a good time was had by all. Monkey was also very interested in the “Bug” (half Boston Terrier, half Pug) in that class. It was as if some primitive recognition was boiling deep down inside him and he could recognize his cousin. He wasn’t such a fan of the Yorkie/Maltese mix that bounced around and barked anytime anything moved and startled her.

All this puppy love reminded the DH and me that we had intended to sign the monkey up for obedience classes. Ten minutes later the deed was done. Our first class is January 13th. Of course, in order to not embarrass ourselves, we’ve already started prepping him for what is to come. It only took a few 5-minute sessions for him to learn how to “sit”. A butt-load of treats also helped seal the deal. It’s still a work in progress and sometimes we have to point to the floor when we give the command, but now he will do it even if there aren’t treats involved. Staying put once his butt hits the floor is another story, but we plan on making “stay” the next goal.

I am most looking forward to the class when they teach us how to potty train our dogs. Our initial plan with Gus was to avoid pad training and focus 100% on outside potty. Sadly, we ignorantly used some pads to protect the floor of the bathroom (which served as his kennel early on) and he trained himself to use them. When a little man is that smart, who am I to complain? He also knows what “outside” is. Whenever we ask the dogs if they want to go outside he makes a bee-line for the door. Genius. Sheer GENIUS!! I am starting to worry that my dog may be smarter than his owner.

The thoughts in my head at 3 a.m.:

Why, when at the store, do I always end up behind the one geriatric woman who has never before used the automated bank-card machine?

Why does fore-mentioned geriatric woman attempt to use the machine without reading any of the machine’s prompts or looking at the symbols that demonstrate how to effectively pay for her purchase?

I swear that the mentally retarded people I work with would use that machine faster than that old Biddie did. And they wouldn’t smell like moth-balls while doing it!

Why does my monkey wait until my face is mere inches away before unleashing a snot-sneeze?

Ms.B

Somebody stop me.

I only had the energy to hit one store after work, mostly due to the fact that I spent my break in the middle of the day searching through ebay and purchasing items to decorate a bathroom in the Haven. Found a lovely shower curtain for the midget tub as well as some towels and curtain hooks. It's gonna look so fine! But I degress. Back to the topic at hand: Me in a clothing store. I managed to find a bra. Woot! It was the most important purchase since my other bras are starting to lack the ability to hold my over-sized boobies in place.

**Sidenote: To all you girls out there who PAY good money to get titties, you are crazy! They are nothing but a pain in the neck, and the back, and the shoulders...**

Also found a couple of tops, two pairs of slacks, a jacket, and shoes. DH has not, as of yet, seen the shoes. If he does, I might just receive a scolding. We recently moved and I managed to fill two very large boxes with my footwear.

Ms.Behaved is gonna be styling now! Eat your heart out Fashion Police!

Retail Therapy

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DISCLAIMER: All Shopping-Aholics should be seated while reading this post. Ms.Behaved is not to be held liable if you should happen to fall over and hurt yourself.

Today,when the work shift is through, Ms.Behaved is going shopping.

Ms.B's Deep Dark Confession #2: I hate avoid shopping trips.

Most of the people I know, including the DH, are the exact opposite. A trip to the mall or local retail outlet brings a glint to their eye and happy endorphins surge through their bodies. I've never been much of a shopper. Not even as a teen in highschool when the "cool kids" spent all their free time mall hopping. I am what I refer to as a people watcher. When I am in a store I am fascinated by the goofy customers there. I couldn't care any less about the items on the shelf. Bliss is sitting in one spot and happily watch people fight over the last size 8 blouse or attempt to cram their feet into a shoe two sizes too small "because it is so HOT looking".

Unfortunatelly, if bras aren't purchased soon, I will become a cranky cranky woman. I can no longer be the observant bystander. I must actually SHOP!! pout And while I am there, I might as well see what else is available. After much time patiently listening to me bitch about having nothing to wear, the DH has commanded that I take the money I got for Christmas and buy buy buy. sigh

The things I do for love.

If I didn't have legs...

Why does it seem that as the average height of people on this planet grows larger, the bathtubs get smaller? I swear, to use the average bathtub these days you have to twist yourself into a pretzel in order to fit inside. How is that relaxing? And how are you supposed to keep yourself clean if half of you can't even get under the water to rinse off? The bathrooms in the Haven were originally designed for a family of people who averaged 4'9". Of that, I have no doubt. *grumble grumble*

Ms.B