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You tell me... OK, fine, be that way! When I think of a description, I'll type it here. Or maybe here ---> x But probably not there | | | V |
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wICQ Status: |
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Needed to Complete My |
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wWednesday, April 28, 2004 | |
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I'm really starting to get pissed off at people. Everyone thinks this is all about them. The first drama happened at the mortuary on Tuesday. My Grandma's brother (my great uncle) was a total pain in the ass. He had to have an opinion on every little thing. He didn't want my mom listed in the obituary as "daughter-in-law" because she's my dad's wife, whereas my uncle (dad's brother) is dead and his wife (who has since remarried, had a kid and divorced) is Grandma's "daughter-in-law". Next he didn't think it should say, "Jenny and sister", it should say, "Jenny, pseudo-cousin and sister." Because otherwise people would feel left out. Maybe my mom feels left out? We had already discussed this at home, and decided that it would say, "Jenny and sister" and then later it would list the other two as "daughter-in-law and her daughter." That wasn't acceptable to my uncle, so he started yelling and pounding his fists in the mortuary office. If it doesn't say "Jenny and sister", people won't know who we are. We have always been one word. Then he asked if his daughter could be listed as a niece. We had already decided to do that. But he also wanted two of his three stepkids listed. My dad said no. He was only married to their mom for a little while. One of them took his last name and he's still close to them, but my grandma wasn't. Plus, he wanted to leave one out, and if you're going to include two, you have to include the third. So I came up with the idea of saying, "aunt to many", which we did. Next we went to my grandma's room at the retirement home to find that her locked closet door had been pryed open and her expensive clothes and shoes were missing. My grandma had OCD, and I know that she would have checked and rechecked that closet door before leaving. Also, she was completely paranoid that the money she keeps in there would get stolen. Why is that important now? Mostly because we were looking for an outfit to bury her in. I had to pick out the underwear and bra she was going to be buried in. That's crazy. You don't even get to pick the underwear you're going to wear in perpetuity. After getting that taken care of we got a call from the mortuary. I heard the guy through the phone ask my mom to step into a room in private. Next my aunt and I listened as she gasped and made all kinds of noises. What was going on? The hospital lost my grandma's body. A little over an hour later I left for work and they hadn't found it yet. I called home 2 hours later and they still hadn't found it. As my friend who works in a hospital pointed out, if the body wasn't in the refrigerator, it would smell by now and they'd find it. So at this point they had one of the nurses who knows what she looks like checking all the body bags to see if one was tagged wrong. I also called my sister and told her what was going on. I got home about 2 and a half hours later and they had found the body. It was in a body bag with the wrong name on it. They were going to to release the body to the mortuary without having my dad id it. But he made them show him the body, because the hospital had already admitted that their bags get tagged wrong... He said he had to be escorted to and from his car by 2 security guards. Fortunately it was her, because my dad said he was justing compiling a list of reasons to sue them hospital. Even when you're dead Kaiser finds one more way to fuck you. Unfortunately I forgot to call my sister back and tell her that everything was ok. I did tell her the next day, though. Now, an interlude. Less than an hour after my grandma died my cousin (on my mom's side) went into labor 7 and a half weeks early. She had her baby at a little after 11:00 that night. She invited us to "get away from the tragedy" and "share her joy". But really, a 4 lb baby in an incubator creeps me out more than death does. Also, my friend's grandma died, and I had offered to pick him up from the airport and drop him off at either home or work. So I did that. I had been told he's really distraught, so I had hoped I wouldn't feel guilty for not being. It turned out to be a non-issue. I swung by LAX, waiting through the traffic line, and eventually pulled to the curb as another car pulled away. He jumped right into my car and we took off. I immediately merged across all the lanes of traffic to be on the far left. Next thing I know a motorcycle cop pulls me over. The first thing he says is, "Wow, you just did not want to pull over." As if that's such an easy thing to do at LAX, merge back across 5-6 lanes of traffic. He forced me to turn south on Sepulveda and I had to go through the tunnel and back just to get on our way. He said that I stopped in a bus zone, and that if he didn't give me a ticket I might do it again. That if people see me do that they thing it's ok. I totally don't think I was in a bus zone, I'm sure it was a white zone because it was exactly where I always pick people up. Also, there were so many other cars exactly where I was, including the one I took the spot from and the one who took it from me. The cop tells me that I made a $126 moving violation, but so that I don't have to go to traffic court he'll just write me a parking ticket for an expired meter. Little did he know I already have a speeding ticket on my record this year. Now, I could totally fight the parking ticket because I didn't even park. But if my dad agrees to pay it I'll just let it go. So now back to the drama. I'm pissed that I have to spend the weekend babysitting people. Ok, these distant relatives loved her and they're coming for the funeral. But at the same time they don't see the burden they're putting on people by hanging around all the time. My dad and uncle are supposed to be in mourning, so they can't drive to the funeral. Well, none of the people flying in are going to put out money to rent a car. My parents don't want to let people use our cars, and I can't say I blame them. I don't mind driving to and from the funeral, but I want to drive my parents and my sister. We are a family and she was our mother and grandmother and I think that we should go together. But instead my sister and I and maybe my mom now have to drive other people. If they would just rent a car my sister and I can go together. They won't spend money on a hotel, so they're going to stay in my grandma's room. We're not even sure if the retirement home will really let them do that, but they expect to. Well, all that is is a room. There's no food or any way to get any. So of course we're going to be responsible for taking care of them monetarily and in terms of food and transportation as long as they're here. I know that my grandma thought the world revolved around me, and she would have agreed with what I wanted over my dad, uncle, sister, psuedo-aunt or cousin. I know that, and I think my aunt and my dad know that. I don't want to be an asshole or anything, but what is wrong with these people? My grandma died, and I don't want to spend all weekend with people that I can't fucking stand hanging around the house being petty. My mom says that if I went to therapy this week instead of skipping I'd have learned how to deal with this better. Meanwhile, she's literally screaming and exploding over every little thing. And by little I mean, someone moved one of the new chair cushions she just bought. Or my dad bought 4 $6 bottles of wine and she didn't want him to serve wine. Shouldn't he be allowed to have wine at his own mother's funeral? And who cares if our chairs have new cushions from Pottery Barn on them? Now her newest fit is she doesn't want us putting out drinks on Friday morning before the housekeeper cleans the bar. By cleans she means dusts and runs and damp cloth over. It is totally clean right now. She cleans it every Friday, and it never gets dirty because we don't use it. I told her if she cleaned the bar Thursday night, that would knock one more thing out of the way for Friday morning. See, when we leave the burial we're coming right back here and people will probably already be here waiting. So the idea is to set up as much stuff as possible ahead of time, but the food won't be delivered until then, so that's the major thing that has to be done quick. Mind you, this has worked out fine at every funeral I've ever been too. But my mom is screaming and harping on us about soft drinks and 3 bottles of hard liquor. Like people are going to sit there and judge us if the housekeeper misses something. If the housekeeper misses a room while vacuuming, will it matter once people start walking around with plates of food? If the picture frames on top the tv don't get dusted this week, does that make us look like white trash? And if we don't pick the right selection of meats on our deli tray, why does that show that we didn't love grandma? Sometimes I feel like all the crap we're doing for this funeral shows that we love grandma more than we really did. posted by Jenny on 4/28/2004 05:52:00 PM |
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wMonday, April 26, 2004 | |
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My mom came home early today from work. We got to talking, and my mom realized (and thought it was wrong, but nonetheless...) that her family will have a field day making us miserable if I wear my one semi-nice pair of black pants to my grandma's funeral because I wore them to my great aunt's funeral 2 months ago. We ran off to the mall and quickly found 2 pairs of (different) black pants, a pair of grey pants and a button down white shirt that closes with hooks for less than $60 at the first store we went to. The whole trip was less than an hour and half. On the way home I ran into the supermarket to grab the ingredients for grandma's favorite dessert - anything Jenny makes (though more specifically lemon bundt cake). As we were headed towards our driveway I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 3:25. Then in the rearview mirror I saw my dad was driving behind us. She finally stopped breathing today at just past 3:00. Here is the response to my email: It all sounds awful. I'm sorry. I'm a little confused, though. Is she still talking? This is the reply I sent: She wasn't talking when I was there, but my dad said she still could in the middle of the night. She couldn't talk all day. She stopped breathing at 3:00 today. So about an hour an half ago. My dad said that once she couldn't talk, there was no reason for her to live. I'm making phone calls off the bottom of her list of people to call. And I have a cake in the oven. posted by Jenny on 4/26/2004 04:30:00 PM |
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This is an email I sent to a friend: Well, the doctor said she was going to die yesterday (mind you, I was in Disneyland) My mother called to tell me a. that she was going to die, b. not to come home and c. not to worr about it. So last night she was still alive, so I stopped by there on my way home. They don't know if she's asleep or if she's just paralyzed by the morphine. My dad tried to come home for lunch yesterday and she had a panic attack and started asking for him. The ex-daughter-in-law flew in yesterday, went straight to the hospital and hasn't left the room since. My dad is determined not to let her upstage him (his words, not mine). They were both sleeping in chairs when I got there. Now some distant and pseudo-relatives are there. 5 new people are staying with her so Laurie went to lunch and my dad followed. I don't understand why so many people want to be there for the exact moment of her death. Anyway, the news today was that the morphine IV wasn't set up right yesterday, so they upped it last night to a level that was actually supposed to kill her this morning. The doctor just went and upped it again because he says every time he ups it, she fights harder. So basically she's sitting up in a hospital bed with oxygen in her nose. She kept sticking her head out of the oxygen tent to talk (she said to mysister, "Jenny's the oldest grandchild, so she gets my diamond watch") and her body can't support a breathing mask anymore. Her blind eye is stuck open, and her other eye is half open. Her fingers are twitching and every so often her legs. Now she can't control them so she keeps bringing her knees up under the blanket. Her mouth is open, and she has to struggle for every breath. Some times she stops for awhile in between, sort of like apnea. Sometimes you can see her heart beating in her chest through the hospital gown, because her breathing is down to (or below now) 40% and her heart can't find enough oxygen. No one else can stand to watch her, but I don't mind watching. I want to bring strangers in from the hallway and tell them that this is what smoking does to you. Something I said in the message was, my dad sat with her for 6.5 hours on Friday trying to get her to sign a do not resuscitate order. Apparently the reason she kept giving was "Jenny needs me." She thinks that if she dies my mom will come down really hard on me. Like at 25 she can take care of me better than I can take care of myself. I was working Friday, got home sort of late, and left early for Disneyland on Saturday. It's sort of weird, I've gone to see her there so many times and my sister never has before. Right now I'm cleaning up the house and baking. My dad wants to have the funeral here. We've never had one here before. My grandma always had funerals at her place. And when my other grandparents died we still had their house. We cleaned out 2 rooms that were so full of crap we couldn't even go in them. Also, I'm baking. I really don't want all these old people coming to my house. They better not stay long. Anyway, that's basically what's going on. posted by Jenny on 4/26/2004 01:32:00 PM |
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On Saturday morning I was in the bathroom putting my backpack together trying to run out of the house undetected (it was 6am afterall) when my mom knocked on the door, scaring the crap out of me. Now at some point the night before I had realized that my great uncle had taken my grandma to the doctor on Friday where something happened so that my dad had to go meet them at Kaiser and that I never found out of she spent the night in the hospital or not. Alright, so what my mom told me was that grandma had had a heart attack. But it wasn't as bad as she made it sound (these are my mom's words, "Grandma had a heart attack... But it's not bad like it sounds, so don't worry.") From what I understand when she went to the doctor they told her that they could tell that at some point she had had a small heart attack. Nonetheless I was told that everything was fine and I should go to Disneyland. I called home once mid-day and was told everything was fine. I called home again in the early evening and my mom's sister answered the phone. She said my sister was sort of upset because when they went to see grandma in the hospital she had some kind of breathing mask on. But she was totally freaking out so she couldn't be taught how to breathe with it on. Typical. At some point she reached around whatever apparatus they had her using at the time and said between gasps for breath that I was getting her gold and diamond watch. I talked to my sister a little, but still, no one was telling me (or maybe her) what was really going on. When I got home late Saturday night my mom was telling me about how hard it was for my dad to deal with grandma on Friday night and was trying to slyly slip in all the ways in which I was part of the reason she was acting like that. Still, she kept insisting that I absolutely not go to the hospital. Sunday morning I even said I was going an hour late to California Adventure and I'd stop by the hospital first. But she said not to go. I called home in the early afternoon and was told that she's going to die today, but not to come home. Then my mom goes on about the laundry list of people who were visiting her in the hospital. It sounded pretty morbid, like they were all trying to be there for her last breath. I hadn't really planned to stay that late at California Adventure because, let's face it, it sucks. But a friend got me into the cast preview of Tower of Terror provided that I wait until 10 minutes before the park closes. I was so pumped full of adreneline afterwards that I practically ran over to Disneyland to watch Fantasmic. Mind you, I hate standing in that crowd of people to watch the whole show and I despise the narration about Mickey and "the power of imagination" so much that I had refused to watch most of the thing the night before. Funny what getting to drop 13 stories and the ability to rub it in other people's noses will do to you. Also, on a side note, I was hanging out with a friend, his friend and the friend's fiancee from the Czech Republic. The girl didn't speak a word of English. She said she wanted to go on a fast ride, but we ran out of those, so we took her on Pirates. Well, I'm sitting behind this girl when she realizes that the ride has a water drop. She suddenly sprung to life and started jabbering excitedly in Czech. It was hilarious. I love foreign people for the entertainment value alone. Now I continue... I called home again that night on my way home and was told that she was supposed to die yesterday, but was still alive right now. I told my mom that I was going to stop by the hospital on my way home. At this point she tells me that's a good idea, and to hurry. Now in reality I passed home before the hospital, but they're not that far apart. Getting a visitor's pass at a hospital at 11:30 at night is fun, since the security guard was probably working on his first or second day. But eventually I convinced him and navigated the maze of Kaiser. I ended up waking my dad and his ex-sister-in-law up and sat there on their "footrest chair" for almost 3 hours. She was on a lot of morphine and visibily struggling for every breath. Her blind eye was open and her other one was half open, but the doctors thought she was asleep. Her mouth was wide open and gasping for breath while her whole chest would rise, pause, sink, pause and eventually rise again. From what I understand the idea of the morphine is that eventually her chest will fall and not rise again. But at this point there were just long pauses at which point her heart would start to beat rapidly in her chest (no heart monitor, but her skin was so thin that you could see it through the hospital gown) and eventually she'd gasp again. The heart attack was a result of how fast her heart was beating to find enough oxygen. She was now going on her third day below a 72% oxygen rate. Every so often she'd start to make noises like she was talking and my dad would try to tell her that I was there, but it was just a morphine stupor. After the first hour and a half she started moving her legs up and down, bending them at the knee and often bringing one up to her chest. Also, her hands were lying out from her sides and she was twitching her fingers and opening and closing her thumb and forefinger like she was pinching something over and over again. Her gasping was getting louder, but the pauses where starting to be longer more and more frequently. After about a half hour of this the leg movement was basically happening all the time. They both had their backs to the bed and were watching the TV using the speakers in grandma's bed. The volume had to be turned up, but she couldn't hear it anyway. I was sitting under where the tv was mounting calmly watching her suffocate to death in plain air. Eventually it unnerved my dad enough that I could stand to watch it that he made me go home. Honestly it doesn't bother me at all. She was by far the worst person on her ward, which was full of people dying from lung ailments. It turns out that this is how bad off you have to be to get a private room at Kaiser. But anyway, it didn't bother me to watch, because I was soaking in everything I could about what a smoker dies like. I'm thinking about asking some people who smoke to come with me to see her again so they can see what it's like. posted by Jenny on 4/26/2004 11:21:00 AM |
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wThursday, April 22, 2004 | |
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I got an evite from my boss the other day. Personally, I hate evites because they're silly. And they go to my spam folder which I usually forget to check. If someone's going to send an evite I'd appreciate a personal little email telling me they're having a party and to look for the evite for more info. At least I'd feel wanted. It started last week when she emailed from working asking if I thought people would go to her birthday party on one of two nights at a certain karaoke bar. I said sure, but she should get one it because it was a week away. So we get this email that says, "Well I waited around for someone to plan something for me, but since that hasn't happened I'm doing it for myself". I didn't say that I was coming, I rsvp-ed yes, but just made a comment about what someone else said, rather than, "Sounds great, can't wait to celebrate!" Some friends noticed that. I was asked why I would be going. We agreed that the invite itself had a pretty bitchy tone. So the day arrives, and I happen to be working. I'm pretty glad that the show should go a little past the start time of the party so I have an excuse to be late. Unfortunately, they finished early because the show was having it's own party. I did what any logical person would do and went to the party to kill time. The time that I had planned to arrive at the birthday party came and went. I left and drove myself on over. There was another friend at the show party who opted not to leave. He said he had an agreement with his boyfriend that they weren't going to get there before 9:00. It was probably 9:30 when I left, the party was supposed to start at 8:00. I get there, and there are 2 booths side to side. One had my boss, her ambiguously lesbian roommate/best friend, another of her friends who I used to think was cool and the gay boyfriend. At the other booth are 7 of our friends sitting staring into space, leaning with their hands rested on elbows on the table. Ooh, rip roaring fun. I sit there unnoticed for about 20 minutes talking to a guy I haven't seen in awhile. Finally the gay boyfriend makes his way out of the booth, comes up to me and says thank god I'm there. Yea, that's exactly what I've been feeling up until this point. The guy I was talking to goes up to karaoke and neither the birthday girl or her best friend (who is his co-worker) can be bothered to get up, watch, look or encourage him in any way. Probably another 15 minutes goes by before the best friend starts giving me the third degree about where people are. My boss seems sort of put off by this. So I take a chance and just start saying real loud (more to everyone else than her) "Why do you have to start drama?" This goes along, me responding to most of what she says with a question or comment which basically said, "Let it go." At some point the boss goes outside to smoke. I approached her and got from her that it was bothering her that her friend was doing that. I didn't ask if it was ok that I was making the comments. I assumed it wasn't before I even started making them. In general I don't want to start drama because I've committed to spending two days at Disneyland with them. Everyone else I know has dropped out. If this is anything like last year no one in the large group (26 last year, supposed to be bigger this year) will talk to me. So I'm not trying to be their best friends, but I'm not going to bring too big a shit storm on myself right now either. As the evening goes on I start talking to people and finding out that the birthday party (i.e. birthday girl and her closet lesbian) were late. People got there, saw that no one was there, waited, got tired of waiting, left and came back. By now the questions have evolved into calling all the people who weren't there. I took pictures. At this point I have bored people with their heads resting on the table, a friend karaoking and the phone calls. How fun. Finally I ask her what time she got there - 8:45. I ask what time the party started - 8:00. I ask if it's possible that people got there and got tired of waiting and left - She had to do her hair. Sort of ironic really, because probably the most fun tonight was someone refering to her hair as "the 80s mall catalog look." Eventually more people showed up, the would-be lesbian left and my boss spent the rest of the night whispering to 4 different guys and 1 girl. I have pictures of her whispering in 6 different people's ears. She did not however talk to me other than a few nods and one syllable grunts when I talked to her outside. I didn't feel the need to hang around until the last second, so I left at last call which was around 1:20. So let's review. I'm planning to spend my weekend with some people who totally ignored me in a restaurant, treated me like crap on my birthday, physically attacked me in a bar, expected me to want to plan them a birthday party, got mad at me for not being willing to wait when they were late for the umpteenth time, and couldn't even be bothered to talk to me at their own birthday party. All in the last month. I clearly have issues. I just wonder what the best thing is to do about them. posted by Jenny on 4/22/2004 10:10:00 PM |
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wTuesday, April 20, 2004 | |
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It's been awhile since I put these pictures up, but I'm going to try to remember the narration of the story anyway. Please don't hold it against me if it sucks. Well, at least try not to too much. I bought a fish for my new betta bowl today. Before venturing to the aquarium store, I had it in my mind to get a red one. I plan to call him "Red". Previously I had a 2 gallon tank with a fish and a frog who I called "Fish" and "Frog" respectively. The store had a nifty little display with bettas in plastic cups stacked 5 high and at least 8 across. Most of them were flaring, so it looked cool. I decided on a red one with purple tips. After locating one in my ideal shade of red second from the top of a stack I hit a conundrum. I noticed another red one at the bottom of a stack with near perfect fins. Still red with purple tips, but not the one I was initally drawn too. Also, I sort of suspected that he'd get all torn up on the unncessarily sharp edges of the bowl's plastic plant soon after I got him home. But I took my life into my own hands and manuevered his little plastic cup out from the bottom of the stack. 
I had a hard time getting a good picture. 
Here he sits, getting used to things. 
The woman at the store was quite insistent about bottled water. 
Attemping a close-up. 
I just noticed that I wore red today. I don't even like the color red. I own 1 red shirt, it was on sale at Old Navy. I bet the pet store lady thinks I'm obsessed with red! 
Nice shot of the fins. 
His body has started to take on a purple sheen since I dropped him in the bowl. I'm guessing he's adjusting to the water. 
Just a cool double image created by the side of the bowl. posted by Jenny on 4/20/2004 10:31:00 AM |
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wSaturday, April 10, 2004 | |
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My birthday was April 1st. After having spent a ton of money on what other people wanted to do for their birthdays I declared a long time ago that I just wanted to go to the bar we go to every Thursday, people could come or not, I didn't need any gifts, and I didn't care if they drank or whatever. There was that crap with my boss where she called me and tried to convince me to cancel saying our friends told her they were coming, and that she wasn't coming. I hardly cared if she wasn't going to be there, and I was determined to go because I'd feel bad if even one person showed up and I wasn't there. The end result was everyone she said wasn't coming showing up, and us having a good time. Alright, flash ahead to that Saturday. Said boss and her tiresome roommate/best friend start im-ing me asking me to go out to lunch with them. I remind them that I was scheduled to work by my boss. Duh. They then start to send me e-cards, which aren't so much too little, too late as much as, too late from people who don't matter all that much. Later that day they say they want to take me out to dinner. I tell them I'm probably going to hang out with co-workers in the area we're working in. I say they're welcome to come, sort of knowing that my co-workers might kill me. At the very least they'll be annoyed. It was an easy out, though. Instead we agree I'll call them when the show is out. So the show ends, and the friend I had loose plans with says he has something to do, he'll call me in an hour and a half. I call my boss and she says she has a headache and can't go out. But I'm welcome to come hang over and out for an hour. I say sure, because it's closer to where I'll now be meeting my other friend anyways. I get there, they're both lounging around in sweats. An hour and 15 minutes go by, no phone call. I start to leave, we talk for another 20 minutes or so. I start to walk down the stairs, we talk for another 10 minutes as I go towards to door. What happens next? One of their friends comes through the door with dinner for 3 and a movie she rented! They say, "Oh, Jenny, we don't have any chicken for you, but would you like some salad." "Why sure, I'll eat your salad." Afterwards they start the movie. I've given up on getting a phone call from my friend. I've seen the end of this movie and thought it sucked. I start to watch the beginning, but only stay long enough to ascertain that it sucks the whole way through. Need I state the obvious that they lied about cancelling plans for my birthday because they made other plans with another friend? I ate their salad because I wanted to see how far they were going to take this. The other friend had no idea it was my birthday. By then I'd had enough. I was never that interested in going out with them or going over there to begin with. I allowed them to convince me otherwise, and look what kind of shit they pull. Now flash forward to the next Thursday at the bar. I get there after work. My boss and the friend who brought dinner and movie are already there. Our friends come up and say hi to me, but they stay off to the side and ignore me. I know they see me because we're looking right at each other. Eventually, after 20 minutes or so, 2 other friends who were talking to them come over. I've already told a couple of people about last Saturday. They all agree that I shouldn't have stayed for the salad. To be honest, I don't think any of them would have left at all. But then again, I don't think they'd cancel on any of these people's birthdays, twice. My boss goes up on stage to sing karaoke. Eventhough I was right in front the whole time with everyone else, she still doesn't acknowledge that I'm there. She finishes her song, finishes the beer someone was holding for her and comes over and shoves a birthday card in my face. Her friend says, "Oh, Happy Birthday!" Yeah, sure, right. She tells me she picked a gift out for me, but hasn't bought it yet. I tell her not to worry about it, I don't need a gift. Within 5 minutes she's dragged one of our friends off. That's the main reason I hate being there, or anywhere with her. She drags people off one or two at a time to talk shit about other people. When she's not around, we don't do that. They're gone for 5-6 karaoke songs. We're all remarking that this missing friend really would have liked 3 of them. Something else. The service that night was spectacularly bad. I waited at the bar with a friend for 20 minutes because 3 different bartenders refused to remove his signed credit card receipt with his full account number on it. Forgetting the fact that it's actually illegal to print out the full number in California, why is it such a big deal to ask one of them to take 3 seconds to put his signed receipt behind the bar. Finally I flagged down a server. He gave us the brush off, so I yelled at him that all we wanted was from him to put the receipt away. He rolled his eyes, but did it. At some point after we returned I decide to go to the inside bar and get a drink. Low and behold, my friend, my boss and her friend are sitting at the bar. The bartender was there, so I walked right over and ordered my drink. My boss grabbed our friend and dragged him out the side door, leaving her giant drink behind. She sent him back to get it. After 5 minutes her friend tells me she doesn't think they're coming back. Um, duh. I tell her I guarantee they're back outside. We go back out there, but they're not. In fact, they didn't come back for 45 more minutes. When they did I was dancing near to one of our gay friends. Not with, not touching, just nearest to. My boss grabs me, pulls me away, shoves me further away from him and pours 1/3 of her drink on me. As she was pouring it I was still reacting to being shoved and started yelling, "Ow! You don't have to push!" To give a quick recap of the rest of the night, she made sure she was the only one dancing with either of our 2 gay friends (who were playing straight that night) or one of the gay friend's little brother who was visiting from out of town. When another girl in the bar danced with the little brother she started rubbing up on him from behind, first grabbing his chest and then his crotch. He kept asking her to stop and trying to pull away from her. She couldn't even stand up on her own, and was going back and forth between being supported while dancing by our gay friends or the little brother. The older brother eventually got mad and started avoiding her. The little brother kept asking for help because he was saying he didn't want her touching him. She put a cigarette out in the other friend's hand. Her shirt was stuck up above her belly and her pants were falling down so you could see her thong and her belly flopping over the waist. Still, she thought she was really turning these gay guys on. Also, there was another co-worker there who she had briefly flirted with and kissed in a similar drunken episode. He called me later that night, but I missed the call and never called him back. Besides, I shouldn't have to tell him anymore to get over it, she's always going to do this. Suddenly she stopped everything she was doing and grabbed the friend whose hand she had burnt and took off again. Had someone put a cigarette out in my hand, I wouldn't put myself, again, at their beck and call. At least 15 minutes passed before he came back and hurriedly asked her friend to come too. She declined, later saying that she was upset with her behavior and didn't want to leave the fun again. I told her that he usually doesn't look that serious, and something was probably wrong, but she said she didn't care. 10 more minutes passed and he came back, so she went with him. After another 15 minutes or so the bar closed. We were being forced out, so the older brother checked the men's room (why?) and I checked the women's. In the end he found out where they were, and had to bring his car around to pick her up. He was upset that no one else helped him. I told him she was avoiding us all night, why should we go gawk at her now. His brother was annoyed because he hated her and didn't want to help her. Also, he was tired and couldn't go home. I suggested they call her roommate, say she's so drunk that no one wants her in their car, and she should come pick her up. No one agreed, I went home. But that's what I would have done. posted by Jenny on 4/10/2004 02:13:00 PM |
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wThursday, April 08, 2004 | |
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My grandma never made it to her dentist appointment this week. She tried to get the dentist to make a house call, but I mean, do you expect a dentist who doesn't make housecalls to make a house call? But she did get him to agree to have me pick up her bridge and take it to her to try on. How fun. First I had to go up to her place. That was a whole production in itself because she gave me a specific time to be there, then called to confirm it, then called back 2 more times to give me instructions. There was no parking. No spaces in the lot, no spaces on the street. I had to leave the complex and park at a meter. They were painting the curbs red between the metered spaces. I wasn't sure if it was even ok to park there because of all the cones. When I walked in the lobby was swarming with old people just waiting to catch a glimpse of someone's visitor. The elevator spelled like old people a bodily fluids. And old guy with a walker patted me on the butt when I pushed his floor for him. The reason I had to go up there was to write out a check. She literally hyperventilated because I wrote 4/9/04 by mistake. Meanwhile, she told me the wrong name of the dentist and he took the check regardless. At the dentist's office it was street cleaning day on the non-metered side of the street. So I had to park at a meter a block and a half away. I walked in to a waiting room with some 1962 pea green chairs what had permenant butt impressions on them and some dark wood paneling. (Last week I took my camera to my dentist's office because he hadn't changed the wallpaper since my grandfather redecorated the waiting room in 1971 only to walk in and and find that he took it down and painted the walls white!) I was then handed some teeth in a plastic baggie, with some pick liquid. On the way to her place I stopped home and took pictures:  I took the teeth back to my grandma's, and luckily found a spot on street, albeit about 2 inches into the red zone. I take the teeth out, and make her take them out of the bag with a warning to be careful of the pink liquid. Her girl comes over with scissors and cuts the tiniest little hole in the back, so small a finger could barely get in there. I tell her it's ok to cut the bag open. She refuses, and cuts it almost halfway, which was enough to finesee the teeth out. Of course, I'm refusing to touch them. She then proceeds to snatch the baggie away, run over to the sink, and careful pour and squeeze every last drop of pink liquid into a cup. I told her it was ok to throw it away, but she kept saying, "No, I have to save the medicine!" She put the cup in a plastic baggie and put it in the minifridge. So gross. But they didn't fit. So I went to the dentist again and got paper to test her bite. On the way back up, another old guy tried to touch my boob. Claims he's known my family since before I was born, nice, eh? In case you don't know how this works, She's supposed to tap her teeth on this little strip of paper a few times. Some color rubs off on the high points on the teeth, and then the dentist knows where to adjust. If you've ever had a filling, you'd done it. Well, she insisted on chewing and gnawing on the thing at least 30 times. I stopped counting. In fact, on one side, after she took the paper out, she took it back from my hand and chewed on it some more. So now it's back to the dentist to struggle with parking again. I stood in the wood panelled waiting room because the 70s holdout chairs look really uncomfortable. Like people with small butts had left indents the entire thickness of the cushions. Then it was back to the retirement home to struggle with parking. The adjustments weren't good enough, so we had to do the bite test again. This time on they way back to the dentist I stopped by my mom's office to get change for the parking meters. That was where a former dentist's secretary informed me that what I had was a partial, not a bridge. I supposed it was a good thing they gave me more paper, because she said the adjustment was too high again. Of course, before she even tried it on she made me wait 15 minutes while she talked on the phone. Gee, not in a hurry or anything. And then the end result is me going back to the dentist, again. She tried to guilt me by saying she had eaten all day because she didn't have teeth. Her caregiver even repeated the same speech to me word for word. I asked her if she'd been eating without it all along? She wouldn't answer. We do the test again. This time she chews on the paper so much it rips in half. She gingerly hands me this little blue spit wad, which I promptly throw away. Well, this results in hysterics. She starts screaming and waving her arms in the air. She tries to get out of her recliner, but it's way too soft and she's probably been in it for days. So she's stuck. But she just keeps on flailing about, insisting that I've ruined everything by throwing the blue strip away. I tell her not to worry about it, and go back to the dentist, again. This time around I decided to catch up on my Highlights reading. I read the last issue and was closing in on finishing the one after that when the dentist came out to talk to me. He missed his lunch hour for this. Me too, buddy. But I sympathize none-the-less. Now here's where it really all fell apart. I go back to Grandma's room to find her sitting in her chair, eating soup out of a cup. She wouldn't stop eating it to try on the partial. Kept telling me to sit down. I don't want to fucking sit down, I don't want to fucking wait. I tele her that the dentist wants to go to lunch. Eventually she tries it on and says it was a little off. Well, it sounds to me like you need to get your ass to the dentist's for 5 fucking minutes to get this taken care of. I managed to convince her that it could wait until Monday to get fixed again. But I also knew that some family was coming to stay with her tomorrow. She went back to eating her soup and I went home. In a little over 2 hours I managed to go to the retirement home 5 times, the dentist 4 times, get groped by dirty old men twice and touch spit covered things out of an old woman's mouth more times than should be allowed. posted by Jenny on 4/08/2004 12:46:00 PM |
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wTuesday, April 06, 2004 | |
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Yesterday I bought the Ghost World graphic novel and am consequently quite proud of myself. It was the first night of Passover and my family came home early. That totally sucked. I'm not working again until Thursday and then I'm not working again until next Friday. I'm sure that will suck too. posted by Jenny on 4/06/2004 01:54:00 PM |
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wSaturday, April 03, 2004 | |
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When Transsexuals disappoint you. I work with someone who decided to start living their life as if they were born a woman. This means taking minimal amounts of hormones, wearing skirts and asking to borrow tampons. This does not mean having any operations or removing any body hair. Since I never knew her as a man, I can't say if being a total bitch happened after the change, or if this is the way it's always been with her. Well, anyway, last night my sister and her insufferable best friend met her. I had warned them ahead of time because she's been a real piece of work lately, getting us all in trouble for things like saying "shit" if you drop something and claiming that curse words are sexual harassment. But of course, she's been seriously offending people in lot's of other ways. So I just told me sister was walk the straight and narrow, don't stick your neck out, and if she offends, write it down and complain. Anyway, apparently she totally ignored my sister and her friend, and was really nice to people around them. They wanted to know why I warned them about, "that she-male" at all. I must say, I'm disappointed that she didn't act up to the occasion. My boss keeps im-ing and emailing me trying to either get me to go out to lunch with her (apparently she forgot that she scheduled me to WORK) or meet her and her tiresome roommate after work. They say they want to do something for my birthday. I've been sort of like, "well, we'll see." I'd rather just go out with people after work and do something birthday-neutral, I think. Well, now since I've been saying, "we'll see" all morning they've both send me birthday e-cards. Did you know that you can send an e-card months in advance and they mail it on the right day? My birthday is over, I had my fun on Thursday night. I'm content to leave it at that. posted by Jenny on 4/03/2004 10:53:00 AM |
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wFriday, April 02, 2004 | |
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I planned this birthday party for myself. Lots of people have wanted to go out to dinner for the their birthday, and then go to a club with a cover and pay for parking or rent a limo, plus gifts and everything, it ends up costing $50 or more. So I've been saying that my birthday is on Thursday, we go to the same bar every Thursday for karaoke, there's no cover, parking is free, that's what I want to do. Then I talked it up and told a bunch of people that if they were thinking of coming by to see what the bar is like, they should come on the first. Well, first I got called to work, but I got permission to leave early. Then I realized that everyone else was working on shows that were likely to go past 2am (when bars in California close). But I decided to leave work early anyways, because if anyone showed up, I should be there. My boss called me at 4:30 (I was supposed to be at work at 4:00). I thought she wanted to know why I was late (When raindrops fall in So Cal people slam on the breaks). But she was just calling to tell me that 3 of our friends who said they were coming told her they weren't coming. And she wasn't going to be there either now. She tried to convince me not to go. But I told her that I was still going because someone posted it on his website, and people might show up, and I wouldn't just leave them there. Also, check out what I saw while I was idling on the freeway. Anyway, long story short, I get there at 10:30 and there are 6 people waiting for me, plus my sister, who drove back from school to be there. And by the end of the night there were 20 people there, including the 3 people who she said weren't coming. I had been trying for over a month to get someone to sing 867-5309/Jenny, but it didn't happen. One guy dedicated "Dancing With Myself" to me. I jumped around and shook my hair out until it was nappy. Good times. Also, there was a big party at the table next to us. They had lots of food and presents. We had a bunch of people clutching giant Long Island Iced Teas and an empty table. Um, are we regulars or what? They started yelling that they had a birthday, and someone told them that we did too. Some girl tried to get the birthday girls together, and when we met... It was my old drill team advisor from high school! How crazy is that? She kept saying I looked familiar, and I asked her if she was turning 21. She told me 29. Then she kept saying I looked familiar, was I 21. I said no, 25. Then I remembered her name, and I told her where I went to high school and it was her! She finally married her boyfriend who wouldn't commit 10 years ago. She was so wasted she was standing on stage and didn't hear them call her own name for karaoke, over and over again. Her husband lead a trio of Rapper's Delight. You want to be self-conscious, dance in front of your old drill team instructor. Clearly she didn't remember that I was the girl who sucked (there was no audition process, see, and I could afford the uniform.) Anyway, it appears the second quarter of a century may be interesting too! posted by Jenny on 4/02/2004 10:16:00 AM |
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wThursday, April 01, 2004 | |
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I think it's because I posted that stupid thing altlist sent me, but people have been finding my site by searching for "beastiality". Well, that reminds me of a story. When I was a kid (11 years old) I took a bus every day to summer camp. One Monday I repeated to the bus driver (some 19 year old UCLA student) a joke my younger cousin had told me that weekend. Q: "Why can't a hamster drive a car?" A: "I can't get out of Gere!" Not to go into the whole story, but it was timely back then. He proceeded to explain to me that what I was talking about was called "beastiality", and it's when people shove paper towel tubes up their butt and let a hamster run around in it. He told me that they liked to feel the hamster's feet running around in the tube. The story finished just as we were pulling up to camp. His boss came up to unload the bus. I must have had a horrified look on my face because he asked me what was wrong and I told him, "That was the most disgusting thing I've ever heard!" I was promptly pulled aside. I don't quite remember, but I'm guessing I left out the part about how I told the joke first. The director then proceeded to get back on the bus with the driver, and sent me on my merry way. When I saw the driver 15 minutes later he shot me a dirty look, but I don't think he dared talk to me again right away. He waited about 20 more minutes. Anyway, I turn 25 today, and looking back, it's been an interesting quarter century! posted by Jenny on 4/01/2004 11:55:00 AM |
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