Do I Look Frazzled?

Last night, as it neared closing time in my little store, Hot Sunglasses Guy came racing into my store and made a beeline for me. (According to my assistant, he didn't even acknowledge her when he ran in...too funny.) When I heard his voice, I turned around to face him, and he said, "Whoa, you look frazzled."

I don't think that's a compliment.

In our tiny little span of conversation, I didn't feel as though I had enough time to defend myself. I had been at work since 11:30 a.m. because the same assistant who was at the front of the store had called me at 5:45 that morning to say she probably wouldn't make it in. She couldn't decide if she was sick or if she would be out of state, so she just told me both at two different times throughout the day. Then it was somehow my fault that no one wanted to come in to work for her last night. Nevermind the fact that the weather was 90 degrees and beautiful yesterday. My rule for callouts is that if you can't make it in for a shift, you find someone to cover for you or else I expect you to be there. My business does not stop running just because you don't want to be a part of it. She didn't think that was particularly fair. A good chunk of my day was spent arguing with said assistant.

And the 5:45 a.m. thing? She couldn't understand why that was unacceptable to me. I would never call my boss at 5:45 a.m to tell her I have a tummy ache. I wouldn't even call her that early if I was in a full body cast. The phone call got my day off to a great start; I didn't go back to sleep after that. I was pissed. Oh, and I forgot to mention that I spent Friday night with a bottle of wine. The entire thing. Therefore, I was a little hungover.

Is it any wonder that I am frazzled?

Maybe no one noticed.

Stoned

Today was my first day back at work after my vacation over Spring Break. I spent most of last week at home with a migraine, praying for it to end or for death, whichever came first. Migraines blow ass.

On Thursday, I went to see my doctor, and she gave me two prescriptions for my headache. It has been ruling my life for months, and it is time for it to stop. As Dr. B. advised, I filled prescription number one and gave it a go for three days to see if it helped. With the exception of a brief (really brief) twelve hour period sans headache, it was back full force on day four. I had had enough.

This morning, I popped by CVS and filled prescription number two. I gave it a few hours, and finally popped a teeny tiny white pill at about 11 a.m. The pharmacist said it might make me a little sleepy, but I washed it down with some sugary Vitamin Water and a Starbuck's espresso. I am the queen of being sleepy. No problem.

Forty minutes later, I was straightening some shirts when I looked up and thought to myself, "Holy crap. I am stoned!" And then I started to giggle. Within ten minutes, I could not focus long enough to carry on a conversation. I was really freaked out. My boss called, and I didn't even know who she was. (I played it off well; she never knew that I was halfway through our conversation before it registered.)

During lunch, I took a nap in the stockroom.

Now, I feel terrific.

Say no to drugs.

No Judgements, Please

Why is it always my kid that freaks out in the middle of every public place that I see fit to take her to? I have a 70/30% chance of having her morph into Satan any time I leave my house in the morning, and those odds are not in my favor.

This afternoon, after spending most of the morning having our annual physicals with our family physician (the way every girl likes to spend a vacation day), we headed to the pharmacy to fill some prescriptions. Kylie and I had planned to head to the park afterward, but I really wanted to get started on the migraine medicine I was just prescribed. I have had the same headache for the past five years or so, and I was not waiting another minute to make it go away. I don't know what made me think this was a good idea. My headache was nothing compared to the nap that Kylie was in desperate need of. She had gotten up early after staying up late at Rat Bastard's house last night. I had dragged her to the doctor's office, the mall, the Vitamin Shoppe, and to the pharmacy. She was finished.

While waiting, Kylie entertained herself by looking at all of the art supplies. I staved off boredom by text messaging everyone I know while plopped down on the disgusting carpet in the toy aisle. It wasn't long before Kylie noticed the cartoon character helium balloons in the next aisle, priced at a freakin' ridiculous $3.49. And the meltdown began.

"Mommy, I want a balloon!"
"No, Kylie."
"But I want one!"
"No. You don't need it. I said no."
"But Mommy, I've been good today! I need it, want it, have to have it, will be good-er when I get it, won't love you anymore if I can't have it."

At this point, people were staring. After a couple of minutes of just hoping she would simply disappear, I gave up and dragged her out of the store. She continued to scream in the parking lot, where I wrestled her into a seat belt and drove the 1/2 block to my townhouse.

It took every bit of control that I had to refrain from letting my own inner six-year old out when all of those people were staring at me. I wanted to scream at them, "What do you people want me to do?! I'm trying to fill the birth control, dammit!"

Kylie's First Date

Hot UPS Guy (Eric) and I have lunch date number three tomorrow. We have been furiously text messaging each other over the past two days. My assistant, Amber, has called me randomly to tell me that she has seen him pushing his little hand truck with one hand and texting with the other. And she said he is all smiles. Eric called me twice today, once at lunch and once on his way home. Wow. He asked me to bring Kylie on our date tomorrow. His daughter is six, so he is no stranger to little girls that age. I wonder if he would be offended if I showed up with Kylie bound and gagged. I am a little nervous about what might come out of her mouth. After all, she has heard me go on and on to my mom and all of my girlfriends about the Hot UPS Guy for the past two weeks or so. And she remembers everything.

In preparation for our big day tomorrow, I asked Kylie earlier what she is planning to wear for our date. She looked completely bewildered for a brief moment and said, "I don't know, Mommy! This is going to be my first date!"

Tomorrow should be loads of fun. Maybe I'll stash a bottle of vodka in my purse, just in case of an emergency.

Rain and a Hot Pink Tankini

I am on vacation this week. One whole entire week of doing absolutely nothing related to work. This doesn't mean that I will simply vanish off the face of the planet. I talked to my assistant twice yesterday via text message, and I also sent and received email from my boss. If only work on a daily basis could be that short and sweet.

I basically picked this week for vacation out of a hat. There was nothing going on that required me to schedule these seven days for my absence from work other than the fact that Kylie is on Spring Break this week. I viewed this as an opportunity to get out of paying for a week's worth of childcare at the YMCA, as Rat Bastard (yes, I have labeled the ex-husband as such in my cell phone's address book) has decided that he is once again exempt from paying for such things. I have each and every day of vacation planned out. How sad that I must plan my time to relax.

Today, I planned to go to the beach. I love the beach more than anything else on the planet. Oddly enough, I hated it when I was a kid. The last time I went, I ended up with the worst case of sun poisoning to ever grace a human. I spent weeks in the worst pain I have ever felt, but I would do it all over again just to be able to relax like I did. I even went out yesterday and did the dreaded bathing suit shopping. And shocker of all shockers, I bought the first one that I tried on. Hot pink, two-piece (okay, the top is a tank, but still...), and super cute. And what is it doing at the beach? It is raining. The rain in itself is not enough to deter me. I mean, you're going to get wet anyway, so who cares if it's from the ocean or from a little rainfall? According to the weather, however, there is thunder and lightning, and that is simply not a risk I am willing to take, hot pink tankini or not.

The kicker of vacation week is that I have caught a cold, complete with runny nose, headache, and sneezing. I think I read somewhere that people who are super crazy busy tend to get sick when they finally settle down long enough for germs to fester in their relaxed bodies. Maybe I just made that up, but it makes sense. My energy is zapped, but it just gives me an excuse to keep my jammies on.

So I will probably spend Day Two of my vacation much the same way as I spent Day One. Most of yesterday involved texting my Hot UPS Guy. (He texted me first, FYI.) I will spare you the gory details, but I will share the best one of all. The 12th text that he sent to me read as follows:

"I thought texting you would help me get through the week since I can't see you....damn I was wrong." (sent at 2:17 p.m., as though you care)

I am absolutely smitten.

That Kind of Girl

I was driving to work this morning, minding my own business, jamming to Kelly Clarkson, and ensuring that my hair and makeup were perfect in preparation to see you-know-who. As I have mentioned, I spend a lot of time in my car (two+ hours everyday), and I see lots of crazy things on the interstate. I also do my share of flirting. Those hours get incredibly boring, after all. I get a big kick of getting beeped at by some random cute guy, or having a truckload of hot construction workers wave at me. This morning, however, it got slightly out of hand.

There I was, reapplying my lipgloss for the second or third time, when I noticed a big blue tractor trailer two lanes over to my right. (I prefer to drive in the fast lane.) When I sped up, it sped up. When I slowed down, it slowed down. I finally glanced over at the driver. He was waving at me. I giggled a little like a schoolgirl and waved back. I admit it, I was flattered. And I kept driving along, still minding my own business. But the truck driver was keeping pace with me. I glanced over again, and he was motioning for me to pull over. FYI, there is no way on God's green earth that that was going to happen. It was a bright sunny day, and I was not planning on wasting it in a ditch somewhere after this crazy guy dumped my body. I ignored him.

A few minutes later, I was still driving along, and I glanced over at the truck driver for the last time. This time, I was shocked to see him waving his wallet at me as he also gestured for me to pull over. Are you kidding me? What kind of girl did he think that I was? And the super sad thing is that somewhere out there, some girl would actually pull over for that!

Not me! My mom taught me better than that. I am most certainly not that kind of girl!

Holy Crap...He Has My Number

Okay, at this point, I am boring the hell out of all of you with my lust for UPS. However, it has been so long since an attractive person of the opposite sex has shown the slightest interest in me in a non-creepy way that I simply must basque in it for awhile.

When I got to work today, Hot UPS Guy was already unloading Big Brown (I have named his truck). He said, "Missed you yesterday." (It was my day off.) Then he said, "I started to go into your store and ask them for your number, but I thought they might think I was kinda creepy or something."

If he only knew. I had already instructed everyone on my staff that if he were to ask for my number at any point in time, they were to hand it over without hesitation. No questions asked. So I wrote my cell number on my hot pink business card and gave it to him on my way to the bank.

We had date number two today at Mr. Dunderbak's. Date number two was awesome. He is actually 6'5", and absolutely delicious. And he hugged me again as I was leaving, a little bit longer this time.

I don't think I'm going to sleep tonight.

Wow.

Victoria's Secret Bee-yatch

Today was my day off, and while it seems that I sat around blogging all day, I really did accomplish some really important things. Like shopping at Victoria's Secret. A month or so ago, I got a coupon from there that had a value $10, $20, $50, or $100 off any purchase. Free money! I have been on this matching underwear kick for awhile now, and I know some of you may not believe it, but Victoria's Secret really does have the best stuff on the planet.

I was so excited about the prospect of new panties. After all, the more I have, the less often I am required to do laundry! In fact, my trip to the mall was the only reason I showered and got dressed today. I would have been perfectly content to sit around in my pjs all day. (Except for the fact that I have worn the same turquoise tank top for two days in a row to work. I febreezed it in between though, so you really couldn't tell.)

I drove to the mall, walked inside, and rounded the corner to Victoria's Secret. Lo and behold, the panties were 5/$25. My God, five new pair. I wouldn't know what to wear first. I just stood there and took it all in for a minute. Finally, I narrowed down the style. Now, I had to decide on five colors that I didn't already have. There were stripes, dots, solids, and some funky prints. It was just too much.

Before I continue, may I please remind all of you that I work in retail, and as someone who has done such for 12+ years, I am incredibly considerate of other people's stores. I am not the girl who comes in and flings things around and makes a big mess just because I know I am not responsible for cleaning it up. I always hang things back up in the dressing room, and I usually return them to the salesfloor (unless the person in the fitting room demands otherwise).

So there I was in VS, carefully lifting up the corners of the stacks of panties so that I could see the ones underneath. When I found something I liked, I searched for my size (no, I'm not telling you what it is). That's when the salesgirl appeared. She was helping someone else who had dragged her over for assistance with the thongs. The customer was asking her questions, and the salesgirl was standing on my right, only a couple of inches away, completely ignoring whatever was being asked of her. Instead, she said to me, "You know, it would be easier ito find your size if you just look in the drawers underneath the table." (The drawers are used for the overstock.) I stood there for a second, not really sure of how to take her comment. I was being neat and considerate, and I was minding my own damn business. I sure didn't need her to explain to me what a thong was and the benefits of wearing one. I said, "Well, I'm trying to find a color that I like." She responded, "Still, you should just use the drawers." At that point, I stared her down. I was so irritated. What are the panties on the top of the table for? Decoration? And just to spite her, I opened a couple of the drawers. They were empty!

At that point, I wandered away from her and looked at some other things. I sprayed every tester bottle of fragrance that they had. I didn't even want panties then, but I prefer Bath & Body Works for my smelliness. Then I decided that I wanted a hot pink bra. They didn't have hot pink bras. (I even checked the drawers.) I finally made my way back to the panty table. And I picked out five pair that I don't have (I think) and went to the counter. I was a little less excited about my panty purchase.

But alas, I will simply use this as another training tool for my staff on how not to treat customers.

My Date with UPS, Part Two

So this part is just too good to not write about, but my first post about my date with UPS was already nearing novel length. And no one else on the planet will care about this but me, but at least I will re-read this post and be totally happy.

As I was leaving work on Tuesday (the day of my lunch date with Eric), I took the shortcut that allowed me to pass by the UPS truck on the way to the parking lot. Realizing that this could be the last time Eric might be delivering to the mall, I could not resist one more opportunity to see him. Sure enough, he was out there, and while I was talking to him, another UPS guy (they are everywhere!) came up to us and started chatting. Eric pointed to me and asked UPS guy #2, "See, wouldn't we make a cute couple?" UPS guy #2 replied with, "Well, you're kinda tall for her. She's more my size." (Eric is 6'2" or so; I am 5'4". I like 'em tall.) I laughed and gave UPS guy #2 a little hug.

Yesterday (Wednesday), I barely saw Hot UPS Guy. My DM, Megan, was in the store with me all day, and it is very hard to flirt with your UPS man when your boss is there. I had warned him that she was coming, and I think he stayed away. She knows that I lust constantly over him, but still... So when I left yesterday afternoon, I once again took the shortcut so that I could hopefully see Eric. And there he was, in all of his brown glory. He proceeded to tell me that he ran into UPS guy #2 earlier that day, and apparently they had a conversation about me. (Thrilling!)

UPS Guy #2: "Man, was that your girlfriend?"
My Hot UPS Guy: "Well, I tell everyone that she is."
UPS Guy #2: "She's hot!" {I am really not.}
My Hot UPS Guy: "Yeah, she is."
UPS Guy #2: "And she gave me a hug!"
My Hot UPS Guy: "You know, I've known her for six months, and I haven't even gotten that."

And with that, I hugged him. And as I said goodbye and started to walk out to my car, he asked me if I would meet him again on Friday for lunch.

I can officially die happy.

My Date with UPS

My shipping world was forever changed on Monday of this week. I showed up for work fifteen minutes late as usual, and my hot UPS man (Eric) was already backed into his usual spot outside of my stockroom door. (At least five times everyday, I use the peephole in the door to see if he is out there, and then I desperately look for some sort of trash that needs to be taken out. I'll bet he thinks we are very trashy.) I always do a little cheer when I pull into the mall parking lot and he is already there. I practically sprinted across the parking lot before acting calm, cool, and collected when I approached him. I hadn't seen since Wednesday of last week. I was suffering from withdrawals. Imagine my horror when he announced to me that it was his last day because he was being transferred to another route. I didn't even try to hide my devastation. He assured me that he would be back next week because the "new guy" would be taking vacation. But I told him that I will also be on vacation next week. (I briefly considered rescheduling. Honestly.) But my day got better when he said, "Why don't you come and have lunch with me one day next week?" OMIGOSH!!! Of course, I said yes.

Even with that awesome invite helping me to coast through my day (I thought of nothing else), it was overshadowed by the fact that it was the last day he would be bringing me my packages. I brainstormed ways that I could make the new guy (Lance) go away. Don't get me wrong...I love all UPS men equally. I just love Eric a little bit more than the rest of them. I contemplated telling Lance things like, "That's not the way Eric stacked my boxes." Or perhaps, "Eric could carry a lot more boxes than that at one time." I cannot be outright mean to him though; after all, he will still be responsible for bringing my precious merchandise to me everyday. Maybe I could bake cookies for Lance to welcome him to his new route, and then sneak out of my backdoor and flatten the tires on the UPS truck when he is delivering on the third floor.

The next day, I drove to work with a heavy heart. I couldn't be excited about anything. Usually, receiving shipment is the highlight of my day. On Tuesday, I just knew those boxes would be a slap in the face. As I drove toward my parking space, I saw the UPS truck parked at the bank, and I braced myself to meet Lance face to face. I started to get out of the car, and I looked up to see the UPS truck pulling in. Imagine my surprise when it stopped right in front of my car. There was my Hot UPS Guy, waving to me from the driver's seat! You could not have wiped the smile off of my face with a squeegee. I must have looked like the Cheshire Cat. I practically ran to the loading dock where he was (skillfully) backing the truck in. It was all I could do to not throw myself at him and hug him; I was that happy to see him. Apparently, the new UPS guy is so apprehensive about his new route that he is stalling. Good. When I told Eric how happy I was that the new guy wasn't there, he agreed, and proceeded to ask me to lunch with him that afternoon. OMIGOSH!!! After I said, "Yes!" without trying to sound too overly excited, I ran into my store and sent text messages to everyone in my phonebook.

So long story short, we went to the food court, where I spent forty five minutes trying desperately to sound intelligent while praying that I wouldn't drip southwest sauce from my sub on my t-shirt. I didn't want lunch to end. I instructed my assistant, Amber, that if I never returned, she was simply to accept the fact that I was not coming back. It was so tempting to kidnap him and drive away with him in that big brown truck. As though my lunch date was not enough to put me in a permanent state of euphoria, Amber announced to me that the Hot Sunglasses Guy appeared to be jealous that I left with the Hot UPS Guy. She said that he was staring at us as we walked away.

Hot Sunglasses Guy is no longer speaking to me, and I don't care.

This is Urgent

Dear Cabarrus Urgent Care:

While I was visiting your facility on Monday night of this week, I saw several notices that informed me that I would receive a confidential survey in the mail. It would allow me to give feedback about my visit. But I just can't wait for the mailman! I have to share my experience with you NOW!

One of the questions on your survey will probably ask about the time of my visit. First of all, I am sorry that I showed up 45 minutes before closing time. I kept apologizing to the receptionists, the nurses, and the doctor for my being there so late. You see, I work a LOT. I am away from home for at least eleven hours each and every day, and I really have not had time to deal with this annoying, throbbing pain in my right side. I ignored it for a week, only complaining to my mom. But after five days, I just could not put it off anymore. At no time, though, did anyone in the office make me feel like my being there was an inconvenience, nor did they make me think that their going home from their own eleven+ hour day was more important than my health. Rest assured, I tried to pee extra fast into that little plastic cup in an effort to speed up the process of finding out what was wrong with me.

Another question on these surveys is always about the comfort of the waiting room. I found it to be very comfortable. And incredibly entertaining. I was thrilled to see trashy entertainment news on the wall television. There were also other patients waiting to see a doctor. There was a little boy (around four years old ) with the sniffles who continuously insisted to his parents, "I am NOT sick!" Then there was the lady with the ugly orthopedic sandals who hobbled to the front desk every few minutes to inquire as to how much longer she would have to wait. She repeatedly proclaimed, "I am in a LOT of pain!" Kudos to the receptionist who politely reminded her that if the wait was unsatisfactory, the ER was only one street over. She seemed like a total faker to me. So dramatic. I probably hurt more than she did, but I just sat quietly and read the book that I had brought (you see, I am learning to "Think Like a Man"). I pretended to be laughing at the book, but I was really laughing at the Bum Foot Lady. Overall, I didn't have to wait very long, and I'm guessing that she probably didn't either.

There is always a question about the professionalism of the staff. Just so you know, the people who were working on Monday night rocked! The nurse, Candy, was super sweet (just like her name!), and she didn't even flinch when I brought her the cup o' pee. And the best thing was that my doctor was a girl! I am sure that all of the male doctors were extremely qualified, but since I had to have that kind of exam to diagnose this nasty ovarian cyst, there is no way I wanted some strange guy poking around in there!

Now for comments and suggestions... My entire visit went really well. I didn't wait long, the staff was great, and I found out what was wrong with me. I would only suggest that you check your office scale. It seems to be off a little. Ten pounds to be exact. Nothing major, because I know that the number that appeared when I stepped on is in no way correct; however, someone else may be less assured, and the whole weight thing can get pretty ugly!

Thank you for a job well done, and much appreciated. Hopefully, I will not have to come back to Cabarrus Urgent Care, but if I do, I know that I will have a great experience! I don't have many friends, but if I did, I would be sure to refer them to you as well.