Pounds of ham

My wonderfully hilarious and joyful friend and former co-worker Kelsey made working at the big bank bearable.

Our days were full of old rich people yelling at us to sell more of their bank products or else we'd have another conference call.

During these conference calls they would make sure and remind us of how successful Cathy Sinclair was at the northwest branch and could she please read some letters from her adoring customers to inspire us?

Cathy Sinclair was a suck up lame face. Not to mention really short.

"...and so...just when I thought Cathy Sinclair was done with her exceptional customer service...I was WRONG. She remembered my name and used it 4 times in the same sentence! When she walked us to our car and opened our doors for us she noticed a couple of spots on our passenger side door. She used her fingers and tried to rub them off but they were just the most stubborn spots on God's green earth! She ended up licking the car exterior until it was so shiny that I decided to open up a $25,000 CD and donate to her church's fund for extradited prostitutes......"


We would all roll our eyes at Cathy reading HER OWN PRAISES and hope, just hope, that the 5th time we'd heard that damn letter would be the last.

They'd finish the conference call with a prayer of Cathy and then we'd get back to work.

The call didn't motivate us to sell more stuff. It just motivated us to prank Cathy.





Kelsey in insanely old lady voice: HELLO? IS THIS THE SAVINGS AND LOAN? 

Cathy: Why, this is The Big Bank ma'am. Can I get your name before we get started?

Kelsey: I'M AT WAL-MART AND MY DEBIT CARD IS GETTING DECLINED AND THAT JUST ISN'T ALL RAHT. NAME'S RUTH.

Cathy: Okay I'll be happ-

Kelsey: YOU'LL BE HAPPY THAT'S RIGHT YOU'LL BE HAPPY. I'VE GOT 4 POUNDS OF HAM FROM THE DELI, SO WE NEED TO GET THIS DONE IN TWO SHAKES OF A VIRGINS ASS.

Cathy: Yes, Ruth. I love helping you with this problem already and we are going to get you squared away okay little jam jar? What's your account num-

Kelsey: ZERO FAHV ZERO FAHV FOUR TWO SIX SEVEN EIGHT FOUR.

Cathy: Hmm that account number doesn't seem to be com-

KELSEY: DID I MENTION I GOT 4 POUNDS OF HAM FROM THE DAMN DELI? DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSED IM GONNA BE TO TAKE BACK ALL THAT MEAT THAT ALREADY DONE BEEN SLICED UP BACK TO THE DELI? IT'S GONNA BE LIKE THAT ONE TIME IN 1986 THAT I HAD TO HAVE MY BACK SHAVED BY THE MAN I WAS TRYING TO HAVE SEXUAL RELATIONS WITH.

Cathy: no no no sweet dear, we don't want that! Now, what's your social?

Kelsey: SCHNOGGING NOSSIN FOUR SCHEMBERLENGER SIX OID;FGSGHOSH

Cathy: Well....I can't seem to find it by that so-

KELSEY: THIS IS RIDICULOUS I'VE BEEN BANKING THERE FOR 43 YEARS!

Cathy: Ma'am that must be the problem you have called the wrong bank, we haven't been open that lo-

KELSEY: I HAVE 4 POUNDS OF HAM FROM THE DELI AND YOU'RE TRYING TO GIVE ME A HISTORY LESSON?!?!?!?!

Cathy::........(typing)...... Ummmmmm

Kelsey: LET ME TALK TO YOUR MANAGER!

Cathy: Uh well I am the manager. I'm sorry I can't find you in the system. Ummmmm.. Ummmm..... Uhhhhh....errr..... (type type type)

.........................

.......


...........

(type type type)


........

Cathy: I think it's the type of debit card you're using. Looks here like you qualify for our Rewards Triple Fangled Visa Credit card. How about we get you all set up for that right now, Ruth?




And that's why Cathy gets to be the star of the conference calls.

...and that's why no one wants to know about me

My brother-in-law, Spencer,  got me a book for Christmas called, "All About Me".  While I opened it, he suggested I could fill out the book and pass it on to my kids, or perhaps fill it out and hide it in the attic to be opened by husband with one T and I on our 20 year anniversary.

I was wide awake last night and decided to sleep in Adrian's spiderman bed (he's at Grandma's while he's out of school since she is a teacher and also out of school) because it is 60 degrees in his room and I love the way his guinea pig shit fills my memory with dreams of being a child and also never cleaning up a microgram of rodent feces in my life. Is microgram even a word?


The questions in the book start innocent enough... Name, address, height, weight, etc. My ambien and Reeses peanut butter cups have started to kick in and I think, "am I reading this right?" I turned back a few pages where things were seemingly normal and realized that I wasn't asleep or injured in the medicated brain. I was currently in the middle of answering the question "What is one thing you extremely dislike about your brother?"



Uh. He lives in another country.




Not deterred, I continued until I was well into the section about fruits of my labors.



"What is one thing your best friend has that you don't that you resent her for?"

Uhhhhhhh.....a social life and boobs that haven't sagged yet?




No way Adrian or "Grandma" Me wants to read that...ever.



I skip over some more of the drama-laden questions, realizing I have zero awesome answers for what the book is looking for. It would frequently ask me to choose my favorite meal,  favorite parent,  or favorite fawn (I had to google fawn...at first I was like....Bambi?). Then after asking such a plain and boring question, the book would ask me to describe how difficult it was to answer. Nothing's difficult for me because I am an open book, Book!



It started to mess with my mind.


Name three things you love about your spouse:


Name Three things you love about yourself:


Now tell which one was easier to write...



This got me thinking...."what the hell? DO I HATE MYSELF?" It's really hard to come up with three things you love about yourself OR your spouse when you're sleeping in a twin spiderman bed with a rodent covered in poo because he's snoring and gives off too much body heat. How does the book know I am not only a bad self-hating robot, but also a mean and selfish spouse-haver with no appreciation?



I decided to skip the chapter after it asked me what age I wanted my children to have sex.


I skipped the next when it asked me to describe the moment I felt the most snuggliest with God, and what verse of the bible moves me the most.



I skipped the next chapter when it asked me to describe in detail my most lucid sex dream and whether or not it has fulfilled any fantasy I have/had.

 The only sex dream I have had is about Bob Saget, and I don't want to read about that in 20 years and Ellis and Adrian can probably be okay skipping on that knowledge as well.




Awwww yeah, DT!







(This was a word purge I did for a new group I joined called GBE 2 (Group Blogging Experience). I had to just write what came to my mind without stopping and trying to add comic effect and interesting ideas. That's PRETTY much why it sucks so much. If you're on FB, you should join, too!)

Christmas.

My favorite holiday has always been Christmas. It's very much annoying to lame people. I start listening to christmas songs in the middle of October.

My standard for Christmas spirit is so high, that it has officially turned me into a giant Christmas asshole monster.

Pretty much any time anyone comes at me with some bullshit between the months of October and January, I kick them in the achilles and scream something about Christmas spirit. I take it incredibly seriously. Almost too seriously. I can't tell you how many times I have grumbled... "well merry effin christmas to you, too". To motorists, customers, best friends, husbands, parents, children in the street, etc.

For me, it never honestly had much to do with the gift getting. Sure, my Care Bears bed tent and Frosty the snowconemaker kicked serious ass....but I remember so many other things being what really made me look forward to Christmas.



1. My parents would give us money to buy them presents. This is coming from two people who literally never buy themselves anything. That ten bucks in our hand was our free ticket to the self esteem ride of the century:

"Look, Matthew, I got Mom this badass keychain that changes colors when you blow on it. She's going to love me so much that my hair will fall out of my head."

"I don't think Mom likes keychains, Mary. I got Dad a calendar with Elvis and Sharpei puppies. He's going to think I'm such a good son, that he's just going to kick you in the side of the brain"

We were always wrong. I still, to this day, have never gotten them that one gift that they never knew they really wanted. I promise, Wendy and Steve, one day. Don't die soon.

2. All the rules went out the window. Also, I could do things I wasn't supposed to do and then hide them real quick and say "Don't ask questions! It's Christmastime!" I only specifically remember using this advantage one time...when my mom walked in on me playing Barbies...... when I was.....12. I was so beyond mortified that that is what I was doing instead of watching Home Improvement and counting my nee pubic hairs. It annoyed the hell out of my mom, too.

"What were you doing? You look like you just got caught doing something."

"what? No I was just flossing my cavities"

"What's going on? I'm serious, what are you hiding?"

"MOOOOoooooom. It's Christmastime! You can't any questions. helllooooooo!"

"Mary, it's October and when would you have had time to buy me a present? And with what money?'

"I am not answering any more questions because it will give it all away, SILLY LITTLE GOOSEY"

I spent the next 2 months racking my brain trying to think of a gift I could give her to back up my story. Not realizing, as I do now that I am a Mother, she was probably franctically searching through my drawers while I was at school, looking for my crack pipe or lesbian porn that I am sure she thought I was hiding.

No, Mom. It was just a Barbie. She was going to prom. I  just didn't have very many friends.






3. My brother is less than a year older than me, so it was always double the presenty fun for me. Especially since I was pretty much a dude. I loved sports and racecars and video games. Brother bear always gave in to me too...which thankfully hasn't messed him up TOO much in our older years. I never had to use up my presents by asking for a playstation...because clearly he would get it and then be forced to share it with his sweet younger sister. IT didn't go both ways (at least I don't think it did.) He never wanted to use my electronic diary or BabyPoopsHerself.

4. The music. It's insane. I don't know how all you heartless people don't break into tears and garland when you hear Celebrate me Home by Kenny Loggins. I can't understand how everyone doesn't blast Brenda Lee's songs about sad bells and marshmallows and rockin the Christmas tree. I looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove Christmas music.




5.  We would always adopt a family. I remember getting to pick out a coat for a girl the same age as me, and it was more fun than picking out something for myself had EVER been. I can't explain the kindness most kids have in their stinky little souls at Christmas! It's mind-blowing. They just want everyone to feel as happy as they do, even if its only temporary materialistic happiness.

I have passed this tradition on to my own family. Last year Adrian got to pick out a boom box for a child his age. Even husband with one T got in on the spirit.. "Shasta says here she likes fur stuff. This girl is gonna love the shit out of those boots!"



This year, even though our fundage is lacking, we adopted a family of 3. I kept scrolling through the bigger families that weren't getting adopted and wished so much that we could do it. There was one family of 8, and 6 of those 8 people were elderly. Uch. Sorry, I'll stop.

Long story short, I thought if I could get my work to adopt a family, then we could all donate and take over one of the bigger families. I ran it by the higher-ups and sent out an email asking for everyone to donate just $20 for a family of five to have a Christmas they otherwise couldn't have. Donations were due in 6 days. By day 5, we had $60. I cried all the way home. I took it personally, "Does everyone hate me that much that they aren't willing to donate money to a family that needs COATS AND SHOES AND BACKPACKS, simply because it has my name on it?" (Hence the "too much" Christmas Spirit I mentioned above)

The next day, after a reminder email was sent out, everyone stepped up. They donated almost 400 dollars and our company matched it. I got to spend 800 dollars on a family of 5 that had only asked for coats, shoes, warm clothes, and backpacks. Well. We took those requests and met them, then took the remaining 600 dollars and went batshit crazy on present buying! These kids are going to have a bettter Christmas than anyone I know! As corny as it is....I hope it will make them believe in Santa Claus. Because Santa is the one who brings this kind of crazy awesomeness.

 I hope no one gets into any sort of physical or verbal altercation this yuletide. It seems to be rampant on Facebook. The moral of the world is, "Remember when everyone else is wrong, just flip them off and go buy some less fortunate children some warm shit and some fun shit"

Mary Christmas to my favorite followers and readers!

I'm so rich and tired.

I have been feeling uninspired lately in the blogger world. Probably because I have been kicking ass and taking names at my real job that gives me money and purpose and a reason to put on mascara.

I was reluctant to share this story because I don't want anyone to think I am a drug addict, a drug abuser, or really really fucking stupid. Mama just has trouble sleeping because I can't stop thinking about important things like new ways to do my hair or how long it's going to take to get an under eye wrinkle on the left side of my face to match the right side.

I got to the point where Ambien was only helping me sleep until about 3 AM, at which point I would get up, eat a bunch of pop tarts, and think my life sucks when it clearly doesn't.

I told my doctor my concerns and he decided to have me try a medicine called Trazodone.

Trazadone sucks.

I took one at bedtime like a good mother/banker and laid there massaging my own thumbs and worrying about homeless dogs and the permanent marker on Adrian's neck.

Two hours later, around midnight, I decided to take 2 Ibuprofen PM because the stress of my lack of sleep was making my neck allegedly hurt. First I googled, "If I take ibuprofen with Trazadone, am I going to die". Google said hell to the no, take that narcotic and don't look back....so I indulged.

Ibuprofen PM is just Ibuprofen and Benadryl. I've been knocking back Benadryl since I was a zygote so that shit pretty much does less for me than a laffy taffy and a cold pillow.

A short while later, I decided to break down and take one of my leftover Ambien. I had to work the next day and I was desperate for some z's. So were the giant bags under my eyes and my work performance.

Woooooo! Partayyyyyyy! Hollla atcha Mammmmaaaa!

Well. Not really. The truth is, I went to sleep. I was sleepy.

I got up the next day and went to work. I was still really sleepy and not real cute.

I checked my email and noticed a few not very fun messages. I had recently gotten a new credit card and was receiving a lot of emails from the credit card company. I opened the most recent one and read a warning about possible credit card fraud done on my account at 3:13 AM, and to please call the company if I was, in fact, making those transactions as an actual human being.

It all started coming back to me. Those of you who take Ambien may understand this...it's not like being schnockered off 4 bottles of wine kind of black-out. It's more like "Oh yeah, that's why my hipbones are sore and I don't fit into my pants." It's a kind of "wha happened?" I compare to both infantile amnesia and dementia. Neither of which I remember having but I imagine it's very similar.

This is all put together by the phone calls and emails I received, along with my browser history and fuzzy memories that were also clouded by lots of cereal-eating.

I apparently decided to go get on my computer at 3:12 (seriously) and order some accessories from Aldo. I remember thinking about what outfit I wanted to wear the next day and wishing I had purple feather earrings. ... I typed Aldo in wrong and it took me to a totally bullshit and everyone knows it website where it said I won $1,000. I apparently believed it and gave my credit card number to 5 different "offers" to qualify for the $1,000 I had won.

I actually kind of remember thinking..."I always see this spam and assume it's fake...but clearly they can't just promise something they don't deliver so what the hell, I will try it! I need and deserve $1,000 more than anyone so it could be at least kinda real."

ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL Unsolicited sales calls....

I figured out all of this out today because I got an email from best-giveaways telling me "based on the offers you 'qualified' for, click here for your $1,000 gas and grocery rebate". It was basically some ridic form you fill out annually to get a rebate on the taxes you pay for gas and groceries or something.

Just. You know. FML.

 I was looking at my credit card statement and unfortunately remembering signing up for a machine that rejuvenates your wrinkles...and then a monthly subscription to makeup....and then a fake eyelash delivery service....and a credit monitoring services....



I am not kidding. I did all of that ACTUALLY thinking I was getting 1,000 dollars.


I know you're all dying to know where this story leads so it can end happily with me being wrinkle-free and one G richer....but you'll be sad and disappointed....and probably sleepy.
 
The offer kept taking me to more things I had to sign up for to win my $1,000....
 
and I just kept typing in my credit card....
 
I have been researching all the stuff I did today... they're all "trial memberships". On the rejuvenation one, I have to wait until I get it and then mail a written statement requesting a cancellation and the reason I didn't like it and return the machine within 8 business days or else they will charge me $187.89 for the machine.
 
You know how restricting that is?
 
To have to wait two or three days to get it...then keep it for at least one business day so they know I used it....then mail it back (fee on me to mail back) WITH a written explanations...all within 8 business days?
 
That's how they COMPLETELY RUIN YOUR LIFE.
 
 All 5 "offers" I signed up for are the same excruciatingly stupid and awful processes.
 
So... they have only charged me 1.00, .79, 8.74, 1.25, and .05 but they all have these ridiculous stipulations and if I don't correctly cancel them all with the requirements they will charge me 48.95, 18.99, 124.99 (that's the mineral makeup..but oh I get to keep the makeup bag it comes with as my "bonus gift"), and 11.99 per month until it's properly cancelled.




The Trazodone is supposed to make you extremely relaxed and worry free. Apparently, I was so relaxed that I was like..."no way this is a scam! This free shit is gonna be awesome."
 
 
 
 
 
 
Phone call number 3 of 2,145:
 
weird area code phone number guy: Hi is this Mary Brown? I'm from a puddle under a tent in India and I need to verify your account validation.




Mary: um yeah I dunno what that means...I took 2 sleeping pills last night and ordered a bunch of stuff I don't want or need.



WACPNG: Did you order Costolin? Credit Reporting? Bare Minerals?



Mary: Um all of the above sound vaguely familiar. Why are you calling me?



WACPNG: It doesn't show you've cancelled anything?



Mary: I have to wait for all my packages to arrive apparently.



WA: Well. Did you at least sleep good?



Mary: I WAS BUYING SOMETHING CALLED COSTOLIN AT 3:12 AM...WHAT DO YOU THINK?



WACPNG: Well okay Marie. You call customer service when you receive those packages and no stress, okay?



Mary: Okay, love you sugar.
 
 
 
 
I have properly cancelled everything I stupidly did, and my credit card company advised me exactly what to do. I cancelled my credit card and didn't open ANY of the packages I received.
 
Can you believe someone actually has to use a monthly eyelash delivery service? I mean, I look good with some falsies, but if I sign up for a recurring monthly service someone just pepper spray me like an occupier.

Kendal giving me hell. Duh.

Pictures of 2 of the 194 packages I received

I blog for myself because I love myself.

I am the most self-absorbed human in North America.

I tried to write a novel and then I was like,

"Hey novel, I murder you now with my awesome verbage and typing, suck on that!"

And then the novel said,

"Wutcchu talking about playa-hata? You're 64,325 words behind and you just ate 8,500 calories worth of laffy taffys and whoppers. And what..?"

So I bowed down and accepted defeat. My cousin sent me an except of her novel and it was phenomenal. I actually wanted it to keep going. When I was writing my novel, It was so hard to not use made up words and lots of parenthesis to explain my blabbering. But that wasn't the biggest problem.

I don't know how to write about anything but myself. I tried to take a different stance and ended up changing it to half Adrian's point of view and half my point of view. Then I tried to write Adrian's chapter and ended up eating a giant bowl of Honey Kix and putting my new deodorant on excessively and excitedly because that shit smelled like pomegranate and bubble baths.




Speaking of myself, let me tell you more about my...self.






I have been in three earthquakes in the last four days.

(Kendal said it best)

I redid a mortgage for a member three times today because she wanted a "prettier" number.

I'm under a tornado warning right now.

I love how they put exclamations to make my impending death funner.

 My husband left me to go play golf in California.

I just got some new Spanx that make me feel like Ashley Olsen.

Wow. I feel so much better now that I've talked about myself.






Feel free to make me an offer of famousness. Either by writing, singing, or mortgaging.

Love you all.

Women are Crazy and (because) Men are Stupid

My friend and I decided long ago we would write a book entitled "Women are Crazy and Men are Stupid".

Isn't that inevitably what every single fight you and your partner have boils down to?

If I wasn't crazy, and he wasn't dumb, we wouldn't be having this fight. In fact, if I was more like him, and he was more like me, then we would probably be sitting on the floor alternating wrestling and singing kumbaya.

Not that that would be any funner than throwing it down. I thrive on drama.

If it's been too long since our last fight, I will pick something to fight about.





"Remember that one time, in 2008, you said my ankles look swollen? What the hell? Now I don't even want to wear this dress today because the only man who has sex with me thinks I have elephant cankles."

"Why aren't you more sorry? Can't you see I'm upset?"

"What is wrong with you? I seriously just told you how bad I'm feeling about something you did, and you are just going to continue eating your Mr. Goodbar like everything's okay!?!?"

"I would NEVER say anything like that to you. In fact, if I even knew you were this upset about something,  I WOULDN'T EVEN BE ABLE TO EAT OR DRINK OR BATHE OR DRIVE OR PEE. Why do I care so much more about kindness than you? I am such a good person....and for what? For you to keep apologizing and eating your deliciously nutty bar that won't go straight to your lower legs?"





Women are crazy.



Sometimes, I think men are intentionally dumb so our dumbfoundedness over dumb statements they have made will just make us be quieter.

I will not call out my own husband on things he has said, because I want to continue to have him love me . These are men I have known or my friends have known's quotes"






"I just like the Imperial Palace because the cocktail waitresses are so sexy, honey"

"I think your calves are too big for those boots. WHAT'S WRONG? HOW DO YOU KNOW I DIDN'T MEAN MUSCULAR, BABY?"

"On a scale of 1-10, you are definitely a solid 7. But your personality makes you a 10"

"Who cares how hot my ex is? I love you with my mind, not my penis. I only loved her with my penis. A lot."

"You don't need to wear make-up. I'm not with you for your looks."

"This is my girlfriend! Thank you! She IS pretty but she doesn't workout."

"Why does your friend always wear such baggy dresses? I can't ever see her body."

"When I saw your butt through the window, it looked like a horse's ass on the back of a trailer on the highway!"

"She's my ex-girlfriend. The only girlfriend I have ever had that I feel bad about cheating on."

"No, I don't think Kristin Bell is pretty. She's way too old."

"Why did Tiger Woods cheat on his wife? She's not even fat."





I think this book could be a best-seller.

I have an amazing story about thinking my boyfriend was cheating on me at a party, but the party house had a gate that was locked. I pulled my car up to the wall surrounding the property and crawled on top of the roof of my car to be able to jump over the wall. The fall on the other side caused some injuries. Not too many injuries, however, for me not to be able to crawl through the scaffolding on the side of the house that was under construction and then climbing through a bathroom window.



But, if he hadn't been so dumb, I wouldn't have had to act so crazy. Get it?

Donuts and Creepers

I have had so much going on the last few weeks, you may have even started thinking I was a responsible adult. You would, as always, be wrong and still unable to please your spouse.

We went to San Antonio for a family vacation. My daughter has a doctor there we have to see periodically as a follow up to skull surgery she had when she was 5 months old.





Cute lil football head!



 Yes, my baby's head used to look like a football.




But all those Mary-haters who are starting to come around and feel sorry for me, check out this little hottie now!

Dear Mary, don't refer to your toddler as a "hottie".

She was fine. We had to stay for a few days for different appointments and swimming in public pools with Mexicans, so we rented the same house we always do. It's 4.7 times nicer than our home at home, so we look forward to it exponentially.



However, upon arriving to the beautiful house, we immediately needed a break from the 8 hour drive with our well-behaved yet frequently obnoxious offspring. We plopped them down in front of the TV and turned it on to find there was 5 channels, and 2 of them were in spanish. We had ABC, NBC, WGN, Pantilones, and Dieciocho.

This is when shit got real.


Adrian will turn into a manic depressive tiger eating philosopher without the Disney Channel. At home, we have 5 different Disney Channels.



Mat calls the owner of the house and she says they cancelled the cable because it got too expensive. Mat offers to pay for the month if they will just add the Disney Channel. She said they would be out on Tuesday. It's Sunday. Let's go get an economy size bucket of cheese balls.





Mary: All right, goodnight. You can watch TV for 30 minutes before you go to sleep.


Adrian: Do I have to watch "El gato de mi tia es en la playa" again?


Mary: It's either that or The Bachelor Pad, and I think someone is skanking it up tonight so I think we'd better stick with the latinas.


Adrian: Hey! I like stuff about like, dirt and rocks....Is there a science channel? Is that science? I don't know what anything is since all I watch is hot 18 year olds playing 12 year old characters with no parents.


Mary: Hey look! A spanish cartoon is on. Watch this!


Adrian: I guess I'll just pray for a while and go to bed.



Mary: Agreed. FYL.





It felt like we were in Lagos, Nigeria...Who knew everything would fall apart without TV? All of a sudden things like peeing and bathing became awesome and fun.

We tried to stay out of the house as much as possible. We went to the Zoo. We went to Ripley's museum. We went to the public pool that was full of long black hairs and shattered dreams.

Funny sidenote: This was a set up at Ripleys that you could take pictures with. Adrian thought it would be hilarious to sit on the dummy's lap for a picture. I ended up not showing anyone, except you. It's very unfortunately inappropriate.

Why'd you have to put your hands there, Adrian?

It was fun to get away from home and eat an asston of donuts.


Here's an amazing video of Ellis singing Bennie and the Jets on the way home. Turn the volume down or else all you can hear is my attention-whore self.

I'm working on a VERY inappropriate blog about my 10-year high school reunion. Check back in a few days!