Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on June 27, 2008

Look at me blogging on a Friday night! I normally spend every Friday night on the couch by myself because I have no life, but shy away from blogging because you don’t need to know that.

But today at work I got my 60 days notice. Come September 5 I will no longer be employed.

(pregnant pause)

Let me just tell you, I had no idea. When our VP (the one who just did this three months ago to the rest of the department and who is leaving herself on July 7) called me into her office, I assumed she was going to talk about something work related or have me write an announcement. So I marched my happy ass in there with my notepad ready to have something to do. Clueless, I has it.

She jumped right into the “we’re eliminating your position” and I think I actually heard the air escape from my chest.

I held back the tears as much as I could. Not completely because I’m a weepy mess these days. But it is hard because as much as I’m not surprised, I’m still surprised. And it sucks to get laid off. No matter whether you see it coming or not.

Here’s the thing, I have been bored silly for about a month. I have had nothing to do. There are still some other members of the department finishing up their 90 days, so I was optimistic that once they left, things would pick up. Apparently the new person in charge of our department thought differently. Apparently they just didn’t think it was viable to have two people in the Corporate Communications department, both with nothing to do. Once person can do nothing for a lot less than two people.

So because of that, I wasn’t terribly shocked. But again, I didn’t even see it coming.

The fact is that I haven’t ever felt safe since November when all these changes started. And I have until September to spend my bored days at work looking for a new job, getting paid to find a new job. And I will also receive a severance payment, which makes my stress level, right now at least, very low.

The worst part is that I have now been laid off three times in the last 3 1/2 years. I have had four jobs since college and have been laid off from three of them. Kind of depressing, no? I know this economy sucks and it is happening to a lot of people. I am beyond thankful at the package that I am getting and the fact that I have 60-plus days to start looking. But I still can’t help shake the failure feeling creeping into my mind because seriously, someone who loses their job this much has to have some fatal flaw, right? (Please do not point any of this out to me, especially right now. It does not make me feel any better.)

I’m doing rather well. I haven’t even drowned my sorrows in anything besides Sugar-free Kool-Aid and Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches today. I’m pretty sure it hasn’t completely hit me yet though.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about all this today. Everything happens for a reason. I know that for a fact, especially after getting laid off two times prior to this. I have always bounced back and moved on to something bigger and better. I have no doubts that I will be fine. I am resilient. I have been my whole life.

And also, it gives me that push to start working on things that I’ve been thinking about doing for some time but just haven’t had the motivation to do, namely writing my book. It is really what I want to do with my life. Thirty years and I’ve FINALLY figured out what I want to do with my life. And I think the way this has worked out may be my opportunity to put my nose to the grindstone and get going on my dream.

It’s about damn time I do something for me and not for anyone else.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Worky Work | 55 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 26, 2008

Recently I started taking the bus to work. It mostly was because of the rising cost of gas and the fact that a 14-mile commute each day ROUND TRIP cost more per week than taking the bus. I hit the limit of what I was willing to spend on gas each week.

There were some other bonuses to it too. One, it is better for the Earth and two, it forced me to actually move my fat ass more steps than just leaving the couch to go fill up my wine glass or stuff my face with cheese because I had to walk to the bus stop.

My bus ride is interesting, to say the least. I start on the Western bus up near my house on the north side of Chicago and take it deep into the heart of the south side of Chicago in one of the not better neighborhoods of the city.

The first few times I took it, I would look at all the different passengers – the kids riding the bus to school, the people heading to their jobs, the homeless people you can smell before you get on the bus. I am a nosy son of a bitch and I like to look at people and judge and figure out their story.

I stopped doing this rather quickly. People don’t like when the white girl stares at them. They stare right back because what the fuck is she doing on this bus in this neighborhood anyway? And then I get frightened.

So I learned to just keep my nose in my book, whether or not I’m actually reading. In fact now I wear my sunglasses at all times as to not make eye contact with anyone.

It has been fine. I take it during rush hour with other people from my office and generally it is just people trying to get from one place to another.

There was the one time when I was deep into reading Jess Riley’s Driving Sideways (if you haven’t read it yet, go read it now! It is SO good!) and was engrossed in the book, but would be pulled out of my concentration every now and then by the conversation going on in the back of the bus. Two really ugly women were going on and on about their babies’ daddies. And then they were talking about their C-sections, which prompted one MAN to stand up and say “I don’t know how you do it. I could never have babies.” Exactly. You have no uterus.

I go back to my book. A few stops later, I’m trying so hard not to pay attention. But I hear “there’s a lot of hot white guys in thie neighborhood. I’d fuck ’em. I wouldn’t marry ’em. I’d fuck ’em though.” As if someone was asking.

At this point I stopped reading and glanced over my shoulder at these two rather obese women, one missing a few of her front teeth, the other wearing black socks with flip flops, creating a camel toe effect, and wondered silently to myself the kind of men that slept with these women.

Thankfully they got off soon after that because I really wanted to read (seriously it took THAT stuff to stop me from paying attention to the book).

My only other weird encounter was this week. A normal looking, albeit possibly drunk or stoned, man got on at a stop after mine on the way home from work. He was dressed in khakis and a polo and had the paper with him to read. He sat in the seat in front of me that just happened to be perpendicular to my seat, so he was half-looking at me.

I was just sitting there, minding my own business, engrossed in my book (Jennifer Weiner’s Certain Girls), when I feel penetrating eyes burning a hole in my soul. I glance up, not moving my head, and look at this man who just got on. He has half-turned his torso so he is full on staring at me with his mouth half open. STARING. MOUTH AGAPE. Like for a good few minutes. It was creepy.

He finally turned back. Then, a few minutes later, SAME THING. Was he checking to make sure I didn’t go anywhere? Was he wondering when God sent this angel down from heaven to sit next to him on a bus? Was he a closet fan of Jennifer Weiner?

And then he passed out. About 20 minutes later the bus stopped at Fullerton and he got off. I watched him as he got off and stood on the street corner looking like he didn’t remember how he got there, like he forgot the past 20 seconds of his legs moving and propelling him off a Chicago bus. I was just thankful he was far enough from my neighborhood. And that there was no more OPEN MOUTHED STARING.

We’ll see how tomorrow’s ride goes.

:::

In other news, I got my hair did tonight. I asked for something a little different, a little red in my hair since Jodifur just did it and I want to be like her.

Close up for the color. What do you think?

It’s a different cut, a little, kind of shorter, but I like it.

This is my “I shall ask you using an eyebrow raise if you like my sexy new hair, even though the humidity has fucked it up already and I’m additionally trying to conceal my double chin” pose.

And now looking at these photos it probably looks no different to any of you.

Bacon says he likes it. But he’s just trying to butter me up for more Bacon-centric posts.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Hairapy, Transit Tales | 44 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 25, 2008

Because his daddy ended up on a BLT in a diner in Hoboken.

You know who we haven’t heard from in awhile? Bacon! Yay! I can feel your excitement reaching through my computer screen and grabbing me by my collar and shaking me because holy fucking shit balls! Bacon! IT’S BACON!

OK, so I know there are some new people visiting here. And I know that I talk a lot about Bacon and there are pictures and holy cow this woman loves Bacon so much she made fucking meat shirts! And a lot of you don’t quite get it. Even though I created a whole page on MY blog for Bacon. Seriously. Click here. You can read all about him.

But for those of you who are lazy and are reading in your feed reader at work and just want to get to something FUNNY that you can comment on, I will give you the rundown. Bacon is a folder. It says “WWBD: What Would Bacon Do?” And there is a big Bacon spinner and you ask Bacon questions, IMPORTANT questions, that can only be answered with things such as “Sizzle” or “Liven Up A Salad.”

Sometimes (like today) Bacon will go through my Google search terms and pick out the weirdest ones and respond to the Idiot Google Searchers of the world.

I know you’re so jealous because not only do I have cats that can type blog posts, and who also have quite a grasp on the English language, I also have an inanimate folder with mystical powers that also can type. It’s OK to want to be me. Or you could just buy a Bacon shirt here (cuss-free version) or here (R rated version).

Bacon had quite a few search terms to go through since he hasn’t done this in quite some time. And he’s kind of disappointed that the most searches are for Jen Lancaster. Which puzzles him so. One, because Kristabella’s name is not Jen Lancaster. And also, if you were searching for Jen Lancaster, wouldn’t you go to Jen Lancaster’s blog? Bacon is just saying. But he also wants to say thanks for clicking through.

Come for the snark, stay for the Bacon.

Anderson Cooper puppy dog eyes

Bacon is not quite sure who this Anderson Cooper person is, but he once heard that good old Andy is a fan of meat, preferably sausage. To which Bacon says, rock on with your bad self Anderson and “Liven Up A Salad.” You know, in case you like a tossed salad with your wieners.

Window air conditioner won’t start

Bacon overheard Kristabella get all excited about this one, like because she installed her window air conditioner all by herself, with MANY TEARS SHED Bacon might add, that means she’s a fucking expert or something. Which is loosely translated to Bacon being pissed because he never gets to go into the room with the air conditioning and is left to fry (pun intended) in the living room in the heat. But to this person wondering about their a/c unit not working, Bacon says “Put the ‘B’ in BLT” where B stands for box and not in another dirty connotation about Anderson Cooper’s sex habits. But in this instance, B stands for Box as in it tends to work better when you remove the air conditioner from said box.

Spongbob this is way i am hot

Bacon is wondering who this Spongbob character is. What exactly is a spong? And why would Bob have one? Or is a spong something you would bob for? Let’s ask Anderson. Anderson says “Smoke.” And Bacon says “Smoke” and a poke? To each his own, Andy. To each his own.

The correct taste

Bacon. The correct taste is bacon. Fo Sizzle.

What is a bump on your head that hurts?

It’s called a bump on your head. Bacon thinks this person should maybe stop asking Google and maybe get to an emergency room because clearly you have a concussion. And while you’re there, Bacon says “Raise Cholesterol” because it really freaks the fuck out of the nurses.

Orange glow outside my window?

Bacon says that is called the sun. And that means it is time to get your ass out of bed and get to work. Because Bacon has become accustomed to a certain lifestyle that he needs you to maintain. So get your ass out of bed before Bacon “Spits Hot Grease.” And obviously don’t forget your sunglasses.

Cat in closet

Bacon would like to point out that this is what he does every day after Kristin leaves for work, he locks the cats in the closet. And he admits that he may have been the one to search this since the one day he couldn’t get them out. You know, since Bacon has no hands nor opposable thumbs. So Bacon just “Beckoned ” the kitties with the smell of tasty, cured meat. And he ordered them to use their opposable thumbs, that they clearly have because they can type, and free their own stupid cat faces from the confines of the closet.

And then Bacon pointed and laughed at the gay cats. Because Bacon is an insensitive ass like that.

Category: Bacon | 25 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 24, 2008

You know what is not smart? Not smart is waiting to write your post for today after you get back from therapy. This is not smart for a few reasons: one, it is late when you get home from therapy because the fucking CTA decided to work on the tracks on the brown line, making you stand on the platform for seemingly EVER, and two, therapy generally brings out the tears and the Debbie Downer in me because hello, I’m in therapy for a reason and those reasons are not because I want to brag about puppies and unicorns and that I can poop rainbows. Yipee!

I stood on that platform for seemingly ever (seriously, our train was sitting there in the distance. JUST. SITTING.) thinking about what I could write about. Before therapy I thought about telling you guys how because I’m friends with a MAN at work, we’re clearly sleeping together. Because OMG! What single woman has FRIENDS that are MEN at WORK?

After therapy I’m all “woe is me. Wah wah wah. I’m fucked up. And I’m pretty sure it is mostly my dad’s fault. And I’m sure my therapist is convinced that I’m never going to find a man because I do not trust any men.” Which is not true. As told her, I trust Barack Obama. And I trust Bret Michaels and the fact that he will put out a quality season of Rock of Love every fricking time. Until he dies. Of gets some sort of venereal disease that he will probably get from Kristy Jo.

And then I started to wonder, what the hell can I write about when I’m all weepy and wondering if she’s right and OMG, I’m just like any contestant on The Bachelor because I cannot open up. I have an unpenetrable wall! I will die a lonely, spinster death with my 11 cats all because my dad was an asshole. Woe. Is. Me.

And then I punched my own self in the face.

One, because therapist knows only what I’ve told her in two 45 minute sessions. So really, she’s missing a BIG PART. I’m a talker but even I’m deeper than 90 damn minutes. Two, it isn’t really like I’ve had this line of potential suitors lined up outside my apartment that I keep turning down because I refuse to trust anyone with a penis.

She’s all “you do not trust people. Not everything is so black and white, honey.” (Yeah, we still have the honeys, but not as condescending this time around.) I told her, I’m inherently a very trusting person, almost to a fault, until you FUCK WITH THAT TRUST. Then, you have a bit of a hard road to go up because I make you work to get back in my good graces. I will not let you continue to fuck with that trust. You have to prove to me that you value it. It is a precious thing, so it should be handled that way. Treat it like something you CANNOT break.

I realize people make mistakes. I’m not perfect, I do not expect people to be perfect either. I’m mostly in the “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” camp. And shame on me means you will have a hard time ever regaining that trust. Yes I realize this is very harsh. And believe me, through the years I’ve gotten better about it. I used to hold grudges like it was an Olympic event. I’ve eased up on that a little in the last few years and grown up.

But I also don’t mess around with shit like that. Do not lie to me. Do not disappoint me over and over. I’ve been there, done that with my father. I do not want to go there ever again. This is why I surround myself with people that I know I can trust with anything. Because these people in my life will never, ever do anything on purpose to fuck with that.

I know I have my issues I need to work on (that’s why I am back in therapy in the first place). And I know that the things I experienced as a kid, the constant disappointment and lack of support from my father, has messed me up in more ways that I will ever know. But I will not let that affect me and how I live the rest of my life. He did his damage, I know what he did and I will not let him continue to make me feel like this from six feet under.

I will work through it and become an even better person in spite of him. Because my ultimate reward, and revenge on him, is turning out to be this fabulous person that he was too careless and too stupid to let out of his life.

Category: All in the Family, Therapee | 37 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 23, 2008

Today, guest blogging on my site are my two cats. Because Kristabella has run out of things to write about. Something she never would have thought was even possible.

Dear Human,

We need to talk. We are not satisfied with the food situation in our home. Notice we said our home, since we spend more time here than you do. Because YOU NEVER LET US OUT. And you come home wobbly and slurry a lot. And almost sit on us.

Do you remember when you used to serve us tasty goodness from a can? When you actually took your lazy ass to the pet store and bought us FOOD? Do you remember? Do you think you could do that again? Like yesterday?

I know what you say. We have dry food. We aren’t starving. Well, this is the equivalent of eating rice cakes all day, every day. How would you like that, huh Human? Huh? I’d image not so much since all we see you do is stuff your face full of FOOD.

How does that food taste? Good? I bet it does. WE WOULD LIKE GOOD TASTING FOOD TOO.

Let’s discuss you stepping on me, Simba. I have not yet forgiven you. Not even close. This is why I am constantly annoying you by LICKING YOUR ARM, since I know you hate it so. And this is also why I have puked every day since, including that one time on your shoe. Sucks, huh? Then DON’T STEP ON ME!

And while you’re at it, would it kill you to clean this apartment up a bit? I have enough cat hair on my CAT BODY, I don’t need to see tumbleweeds of hair balls floating around me at all times. That other cat, the girl one, she is stupid and sometimes chases her own hair. And it is irritating. All while you’re away at work in the air conditioning, while we sweat it out like a fat person wearing a parka in a sauna.

Please take care of our demands and we will not piss on your couch.

Demandingly yours,

CATS

:::

Dear Cats,

Shut the fuck up before I push you out the window. I’m sure there is a restaurant in Chinatown looking for some fresh cat meat.

Sincerely,

The Human

Category: A Dash of the Crazy | 33 Comments »
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