The Life and Times of a Peon
Thursday, November 30, 2006

I've had many boss's over the years. Napoleon complexes, nose pickers, farters. Boss's that laugh in the face of sexual harassment charges all the while feeling up your behind; you name them, I've had em.

I like to think I'm impervious to the storm of insanity that comes before the tornado of upper management, and for the most part I am.
I am the lone tree standing stoically in the face of gas, spittle, and most bodily functions, but not this one time.

This one time I almost broke and committed bossacide.

This particular manager was slightly anal-retentive. That is, if you define anal retentive as having a stick shoved so far up your ass that you could use it as a tooth pick...

There was a procedure for EVERYTHING. There was even a procedure on PROCEDURES. Yes...the only thing they didn't have a procedure in writing for was taking a crap...and believe me, it was closely monitored anyways.

For every letter written, I had to make sure the margins were exact, font only the correct size and type. Can't fit the letter onto one page at 12 pt? Too damn bad, go to two pages, even if it's one line on the second damn page.

Letter after letter I brought forward only to have it dissected for a word here or a punctuation there. Little notes adorned my submissions. They glared at me from yellow stickies, heckling my latest attempt at perfection. Stapled to the letters would always be a printed copy of The Procedure, because of course I must have forgotten; how else could I explain my gross lack of detail.
If I hadn't made a mistake..a mistake would be found anyways..If it was only use, "wouldn't" instead of "would not".

"This is a informal letter KaraMiaaaa" she would drawl out in slyly insulting tones. "'Would not' is much to formal" she would inform me, the fires of hell glinting in her eyes.

Day in and day out I corrected items that were never incorrect. I reprinted because of imaginary smudges and spaces that did not exist. So I spaced and entered and broke "The Procedure" time and again because she needed to make me redo matter what.

This particular Monday I was feeling pretty safe. I hadn't been called on display for public humiliation in quite some time. I had my letter, read it over several times, gave to my coworker to read it over, grabbed random English teachers off the streets to look it over...everything was golden.
I put the letter into the red folder (via proceeedureeeee) and put it in her inbox expecting a pat on the back, a "good job"...anything. Because after was perfect.

Later that afternoon I get called into her office.
'Here it comes' I think, she is finally going to have to tell me how great a job I did. I could feel the glee building in my chest.
There's no backing out of this one, the president himself would look at this letter lovingly and caress it's flowing pages of perfection in envy. Yes...this is my moment. I almost skipped into her office.

"Karamiaaaaaa" she drawls. "Doesn't The Procedure state the proper margins of our letters?"
"yes" I reply confused.

I'm sorry, but didn't she get the memo? This letter was Perfect...with a capitol "P".

"Well, I must say the left margin looks slightly off."

I glance at the letter and see nothing. It's not off...but she's off her ever loving rocker!

"I'm sorry but I don't see it" is my reply.
"Look here" she says as she points out the line of the left margin and the end of the letterhead with fingernails sharpened to red tipped daggers.

It's a smidgen off...If you're a broom stick wearing managerial type with visions of leading the hoards of hell that is.

"I'm not sure why" I reply, "it's definitely the correct margin."
"Oh really" she responds, "well let's just check" as she pulls a ruler out of her pocket.

My eyes widen. 'Hell no! She did not just pull out a ruler to check my margin!' I say to myself. I'm so pissed at this point that the proverbial steam is not only coming out of my ears but I imagine my eyeballs have turned red as the hair all over my body stood to attention awaiting the oncoming explosion.

She lays the ruler alongside my margin and makes 'tsk tsk' sounds as her actions reduce my pride to mince meat. "Well, it does seem to be correct" she says with a sniff. "I can't imagine why this is off."
"Maybe the printer is off for some reason" I say, desperately throwing someone else under the steam roller that is my manager.
"Yesssss" she says sibilantly, "Bring me the I.T. man at ONCE" she demands, turning back to her desk, subsequently dismissing me.

I notice the ruler laying on the ground behind her. Bending down to pick it up, I toss it from one hand to the other, thinking of the proper procedure would be for optimum placement of this particular ruler.

smacking the ruler against the palm of my hand, I back away from her desk and smile. It would take her a long time to get the splinters out of where I intended to put this ruler. I rushed back to my desk to right the proper procedure for splinter removal.

Hell Has Frozen Over
Wednesday, November 29, 2006

...Because I am receiving a child support check.

Now before you go having a heart attack like I did, let me clear up some issues.
Nope, Dead Beat didn't get a job.
Was it a voluntary payment? Nope, not that either; D.C.S. just found an open bank account and scooped up my child support payment like a seagull scarfing an unwary salmon. In this case the slippery fish belongs to Kendell's sperm donor father.

I'm betting there's one pissed off Dead Beat somewhere..hehe. Now he can know what it's like to go get some money from your account only to realize..oops..not there! Snicker.

Does it make me a bad person to enjoy this? It does?
.......hmmm, let me check...yup, perfectly ok with that.

Yesterday I was away from my work enjoying a snow day. Kendell's school was closed and my tires are bald..that's enough of a sign from God for me to take a vacation day dontcha think? Plus add in the fact that the sleeping pill I broke down and took the night before had me comatose till 11 a.m., well, yeah, I would have been a bundle of joy at work. If you define a bundle of joy as a cranky, sleepy, non communicative office services clerk wearing too much make up and crazy hair. Yup....a bundle of something I would say...Joy? Not so much.

So today I'm at work and of course am updating my blog. Shhhhhh, no one needs to know but you and me right? Just think, if D.C.S. keeps finding open bank accounts, one day I might be able to afford internet at home again!!!! Of course, I'll probably be eighty and too blind see the computer screen, but hey, the dementia should give my blog entries that little extra kick they've been missing right?

Ha, critics!

Ok...This One Might Not Bore the Pants Off You
Monday, November 27, 2006

BUT..If you're extra cute...You can take them off anyways!!
Hush, a girls gotta dream right? Ok ok, back to business people. I've been tagged by HoosierGirl5 and since weirdness is a part of my life, I figured this one fit right in.

Here are the rules:Each player of this game starts with the 6 weird things about you. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" in their comments and tell them to read your blog.


1) As a child, whenever I swung my backpack around and it hit something...I would say "ouch"...for the backpack. Because we all know backpacks have feelings too.

2) If I read a scary storey or watch a scary movie before bed...I have to leave the lights on. I also must tuck the covers around my neck to protect it from possible vampire bites. What protection will a sheet do you ask? I'll have you know that i'm sure there are vampires out there that have issues with unwrapping sheets!

3) I can't look out a window because I might see this:
and I can't look in a dark mirror because this could possibly be looking back:

4) Vodka makes me break out, Rum gives me heartburn, but Whiskey seems to go down just fine...

5) I can't sleep with my foot hanging over the side of the bed in fear something will grab it, nor can I look under the bed. If something falls under there it's lost for life.

6) I snort when I laugh. Hey, Chrissy from Three's Company did too and she was hot! So there...hmpfh.

Seriously though, my list is lame. I know you guys can come up with better then this. I'm tagging my girls Carrie, Gypsy, Fauve, Purring, Pam and my man Kal.

Thought of The Day

Why isn't evaporated milk...well...Evaporated??

You Know You've Got a Date with the Toilet When...
Wednesday, November 22, 2006

You've just gotten your chicken quesadilla from Taco Smell, look up and notice a pest control truck in the parking lot. You then see the pest control guy climb out and take inside what is obviously a bill...

What I'm Thankful For

...My silly habit of entering radio contests online.

Why? Because I won tickets to see Cedric The Entertainer at the WaMu theatre in Seattle this Saturday.

Woot Woot for me!

Is that a Ruler in Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy to See Me?
Tuesday, November 21, 2006

I think Ms. First Year Teacher has a case of KaraMia-itis. Yes, yes I do.

Kendell's conference is tonight. At our open house at the beginning of the school year we were invited to sign up for tonight.

Two months in advance you ask?

That should have been the first sign of a problem, yet I remained blissfully unaware.

Then there was the note home. "Sign and confirm you'll be there", it requests of me.
I do.

A few days later I get an email. "Ms. Kendell's Mother, will you be there?" it asks imploringly.

"With bells on" was my reply.

Another little note found it's way into my short man's back pack. "Please confirm" it pleaded with me.

I spurned it with my lack of response.

Then the emails started, cryptic little messages of inquiry, followed shortly by messages passed to me from my son, the unknowing pawn in this crazy little interlude.

Soon I got a phone call, "will you be there?" she asks sweetly.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! "Of course" I reply, "It's on my calendar." Her sigh is resplendent with relief at my answer.

I go tonight....and I'm telling you, if there's a bunny boiling on the break room stove, I'm so outta there!

Taking It a Bit to Literally
Monday, November 20, 2006

Driving down the road on a brilliantly sunny Saturday morning I reached into the glove box and blindly grabbed my sunglasses. Shoving them on my face one handed, I looked out at the road through psychedelic colors and blurry images. Acting quickly before I can go and kill an innocent pedestrian, I tear them off my head.

Tossing them over to Kendell I ask, "Honey, can you wipe these off for Mommy?"
"Sure Mom" he says as he takes his shirt and uses the hem to rub on the lenses. "Here yah go."
I take the glasses and manage to avoid poking out my eye as I wrangle them onto my face. I promptly pull them off again after I start swerving like a drunk on a three day binge. "Not quite there bud. Yah gotta use some spit, it's got something on the lens."
"Spit?" he asks
"Yup, won't come off just with rubbing" I reply distractedly.

I glance over to check out his progress and to my horror I see him hawk a loogie onto the sunglasses.
"Kendell!!! What are you doing??"
"What?" he said looking at me in bewilderment, "You said use spit, so I used spit."
Grimacing in disgust I say, "I know I said spit, I however didn't mean for you to SPIT!"
"Well, next time you need to be more precise."
"Duly noted."

Score: Kendell 10
Mom 5

Things Still Unsaid
Friday, November 17, 2006

My mother went into the hospital three years ago this month. My fingers have sputtered and gasped out lines and sentences like clouds of exhaust, only to disappear into the either with a tap of the backspace button. I stop and start and still get nowhere.

I've been doing so much better this year. Risen up from the dregs of grief, if not like a Phoenix, at least a Robin. My strength is the tentative unfurling of newborn wings and I am at once both afraid and eager to test their strength by spilling out my secrets for you here. Yet the story of her illness is something I find beyond my fragile dexterity. It sits upon my breast like a hidden cancer. Waiting to burn it's way through my innards with the sharpness of knives and cleaving through my skull with the swift down stroke of an axe.

But I'm not ready.

The words sit unspoken on my screen and I wonder when I will give them voice. I want them to dart through my veins like so many white blood cells, cleaning out my guilt with their swift travel, easily conquering the germs of pain that ride my body like an unwanted guest. I wish for the skills of a surgeon to self extract them, expelling them upon a medium for examination and dissection, but I am still interning.

Some ghosts extract a toll before you can exorcise them.

Forgery In The 1st Degree
Tuesday, November 14, 2006

"Hello? Ms. Kendell's Mother?"
"Yes, that's me"
"Uh, yes, hello, This is Ms. First Year Teacher. I've got your note here about the field trip."
"Uh, yes, It says you want to be a chaperone on the upcoming field trip."
blank again
"It does?"
"Let me read it too you. 'Dear Ms. First Year Teacher, this is Kendell's mother, KaraMia. I would like to go on the field trip with Kendell, ..My son. Please call me. Thank You very much. From KaraMia, Kendell's mom.'"
"Um, nope, I didn't write that."
muffled laughter
"I think your son would like you to come on the field trip."
"Yup, looks like I'm coming."
"We'll see you there."

....Now I've heard of forging a note as your mother to get out of trouble...but forging a note to make your mother come on a field trip??

I'm framing it.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

I laid the envelope on the table as I shrugged out of my leather jacket. It stared at me while I bustled about the business of coming home. Walking from room to room I could feel it's presence in my home, this omnipotent thing that knew no thoughts or felt no heat. It called to me and for a moment, I resisted it's pull.

Giving in to the inevitable I grasped the envelope in stressed fingers and walked to my bedroom with it clutched against my chest. I closed the door carefully and sank down onto my bed, the envelope in my lap.

With a precision born of resignation I opened the flap and pulled the paperwork out into the light. The words seemed to move before my eyes, made alive and mobile with my apprehension. Taking a deep breath, I pressed my lids closed, accepted that these words before me were but a passing blip in this life and opened my eyes to the small reality that loomed in front of me.

Scanning through legal jargon, discarding verbiage like so much garbage, I delved into the document till I found what I was looking for; judgment: $183.50.

The breath left my mouth and I felt the world settle once again to a gentle spin. Like a tongue that delves gently in search of an ache, I probed my emotions, ready to reign in at the first taste of pain; but there was nothing.

Just me and this small set of papers. Inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It did not render me helpless or bring me to my knees as I had feared. These words did not strike me down in despair nor did they elate me with joy. The stark black on white was just what it appeared to be...words.

The realization that this decision to lower my child support actually felt ok, was something that brought peace to my turmoiled soul.

In the end, it's just paper, and even paper can't change what has never been honored in the first place.

$183.50 of still nothing.

A letter to Kendell's Teacher
Friday, November 03, 2006

Dear Ms. First Year Fifth Grade Teacher,

Thank you for sending home Kendell's reading log yesterday. I have signed it and sent it back today as you requested.

However, you might notice that the reading log is, shall we say, a bit worse for wear. Evidently Buddy, our dog, was a bit peeved at being left out of the whole, reading for homework, loop and took some interest in Kendells log yesterday.

In the ensuing struggle between boy and dog over the homework, Buddy some how ingested some of it. Evidently reading does not agree with dogs and Buddy promptly gave it back to us, albeit in pieces. Please note that we did wipe it up as much as possible.

Kendell himself showed great ingenuity in taping together the remains of the reading log and using an iron to try and get rid of the wrinkles (that would be the burn marks you see).

I try to instill in Kendell the importance of turning in his homework despite all odds and was able to fill out what was readable and sign it for you.

I'm sure the smell of vomit will fade in time.

On the off chance that you feel the log is not readable as is, could you possibly send a new log home with Kendell?

I would greatly appreciate it and promise to keep it away from the dog, the iron, and any adhesive materials.


Kendell's First Time Mother

Reddies Awards 2006!
Thursday, November 02, 2006

Feel like voting for something other then a politician that makes three times in a year what you will make in a lifetime??

Feel like you need an ego boost or want to boost someone else's ego??

Feel like playing on the internet under the big boss's dime? (yeah, well...Me too)

Then get your Red Hot Ass over to my man Red Hot Sexy Papa's page and vote.

He's got fun little categories and lots of sexy, smokin hot eye candy to give the strictest teetoler a sweet tooth.

so head on over to Red Hot Heaven and tell him KaraMia said Hi.

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  • Name:Kara
  • Location: Tacoma, Washington, United States
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  • I'm a recovering single mother trying desperately to see humor in my day to day toil while simultaneously avoiding reality as much as humanly possible.

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