A couple nights ago, I just happened to look up at the cameras while at work. I noticed a fat yellow orbweaver had built a web over one of the cameras outside and have been wanting to get a picture of it to show the hubs. Finally got the shot, but it was incredibly blurry as you see below.
Me: *shows him the pic* It’s blurry but there she is!
Him: It’s blurry cause she’s nude.
Tiny disclaimer about the 1LW pic I’m using: No offense to the winner is intended but I’d like to support my husband Martians Attack and use his picture. He worked so hard on it and I hated to see it go to the trash.
I haven’t had squat to write about in the last couple days. So… instead, I’ll give you some small highlights to tide you tf over, lol.
~ Hubs bought me some grapes and proceeded to feed them to me like a Nymph would Bacchus. He didn’t really, I was just shoveling them into my face and then happened to notice a teeny, tiny wormy caterpillar in the bowl. I was promptly ill, began googling the shit out of said worm in grapes. Didn’t really find anything but haven’t noticed anything strange, like, caterpillars growing in my stomach. Hubs went back the next day and got a refund for those $6 grapes. Also, never buying grapes from Kroger again. They were the best looking bunch he found and they were fucking $6! But. They. Were. SOUR. AF.
~ I value my nights off of work like I value food and air. Matter of fact, it’s probably the most important thing to me aside from my husband, whom I fucking love and cherish. So after a terrible day of being sick while trying to sleep and getting up and down all day because of it, we finally sat down at like 1:30am to follow through on our plan to enjoy each other’s company and watch Star Trek Beyond. Welp, that idea was shot through because I had to hold the guy’s hand who covers my nights off, all. fucking. night. From 1:40AM to about 9AM, I was on the phone with him at various times and trying to reach our managers in between those calls. I was not happy. Not happy at all. Needless to say, I put my phone on silent tonight.
~ Linda G. Hill is hosting a contest for a new badge to represent her writing prompt, One-Liner Wednesday and hubs whipped one up. It’s pretty fancy. Please go vote for him! His is the “yellow badge” that you can see HERE and vote for HERE. This badge will be used for the rest of the year and will likely help draw traffic to his blog. Voting ends today at noon GMT. HALP HIM!
Those are the only highlights that I can really think of for the moment. So… scram!
I have always had some pretty crazy dreams. Very detailed, too. I usually remember everything about my dreams and the one I just woke up from is no different.
Our scene begins in a normal mall. Shops are open, people are everywhere and I’m walking along just browsing, kind of aimlessly walking with the crowd of shoppers and out of nowhere someone just about runs me over without apologizing.
Now, I don’t take that kind of abuse from anyone and this stranger is no different. I called out to them in an upset kind of tone. The gentleman turns around and…
It’s John fucking Cusack.
Normally, I’d be shitting my pants because, c’mon… It’s John Cusack! Who doesn’t love this man? I do! Or… I thought I did.
John turned around and whipped out a gun and opened fire on me! In a crowded mall!
I thought John was cool! I mean, I loved him very, very much in Hot Tub Time Machine. Hubby and I watch it often enough that we can quote the entire movie from beginning to end. But this time… Adam really does suck Cox n’ Dix.
So there I am, avoiding this lead hailfire, running bodies and splintering wood from the impact of said lead. I’m running my fat little ass off, which, in dreams, is always much easier than reality, lol.
I don’t know what crawled up John’s ass and died but fucking excuse me for not wanting to be run over like I’m the autobahn. Celebrity or no, you don’t get to do that John.
Except, apparently he does, because my confronting him about it has now turned into a deadly chase where he’s like the Terminator and I’m poor Sarah Connor, except… there’s no Kyle Reese to save my lily white behind. It’s up to me and I don’t feel like dying today!
So I haul ass to the underbelly of the mall where workers are trying to do their job and it looks like a scene from Titanic where Rose and Jack are running through the boiler room. I’m sure the workers didn’t think that shit was cute, either. GTFO!
Anyways, there I am, dodging and weaving around heavy machinery and the workers trying to do their jobs while John is steadily trying to kill my ass. Crazy, right?
Blood is being sprayed everywhere, people are screaming. It’s not pretty.
We finally work our way back up to the topside of the mall where I finally make it to the police station. (It’s a dream, shaddup.) The Chief of Police assures me that they’ll handle this and tell all of us scared civilians to keep down while they do their job in apprehending Undesirable #1.
It’s not to be. They haven’t given John Cusack enough credit. He’s fucking crafty. He knows exactly how all of this will end.
Over the loud speaker we all suddenly hear him saying to surrender the girl or everyone will die when he leaks this toxic nerve gas.
This shit is rapidly turning into a scene from Batman (1989) where Joker murders everyone in the art museum and rearranges their faces, well, artfully.
Everyone looks at me and starts putting on their gas masks. Lo and fucking behold, there’s no mask for me and some poor unfortunately souls whose eyes start bugging out of their heads like the scene from Total Recall where the window is blown out and the air from Mars causes a truly agonizing death.
Of course, right before I actually kick the bucket, I wake up and all is well with the world except that the humidity from outside has permeated the coolness of our central air to make for a very balmy sleepy time and I really ought to not eat pizza before going to bed.
Also, there’s a moral you can learn from this!
Don’t confront someone over something small. It could be deadly! Learn from my example, folks.
Him: Ah, this turned out fucking great, if I do say so myself.
Him: Almost ready to post.
Me: Woo, woo! I’m trying to catch up on my reading list now. You’ll be number 2381290387.
Him: Can you bump me one up or so?
Me: Uh… *inserts gif*
Me: Lol, of course I’ll bump you up.
Him: WOOHOO! *inserts pic*
Sorry y’all, guess my duty as a wife trumps my duty to CDO in reading these posts in order, lol. If y’all are interested in what he posted, it IS fucking funny and you should totally read it. JUST DO IT!
Of course it isn’t April 1st, you fool! I’m just saying that my blog is a month old. I started it on April 1st, last month and I can’t really believe that it’s going strong.
“So? It’s only a month!”
Scoff all you like but this is monumental for me.
I’ve started and deleted so many blogs that I’m sure hubby didn’t take me seriously when I started this one up last month. HA! He and I are both astounded by the rate in which I’m gaining followers and the rate in which I’m churning out posts.
Astounded, I tell you!
As of May 12th, 2017… I have 46 followers, 4 views away from 400 and this will be post number 30. I told hubby that I felt like this attempt could be taken seriously when I reached 50 posts and only then would I buy my domain name for it, so it’ll be 20 more posts before that happens.
My whole purpose in posting this was not only to celebrate this weird success, but I wanted to tell everyone that I’m hosting a small giveaway when I reach 100 followers! What better way to reward you and show my appreciation for reading my drivel than by extorting you luring you in with promises of a gift?!
To participate, all you have to do is click that follow button if you’re a WordPress user or follow via submitting your email.
Once I’ve gotten close to 100 followers, I’ll update with information on what the prize is going to be. Don’t worry, while not lavish or expensive, it’ll be something people will enjoy using.
Thanks so much to those who have followed already… hubby and I get so freaking excited when we see we’ve each gotten someone new to subscribe to our nonsense.
Speaking of hubs… I may have heard he might be doing a small giveaway, too, if he also reaches a certain number of followers. Go follow him here at Martians Attack to not only keep an eye on that rumored giveaway, but follow him anyway because he’s funny af.
So! Yay for me and yay for you! It’ll be a win/win. Let the wild rumpus begin!
The last two days have not been good for me in a mental capacity. My thoughts, especially, have been like a thicket. I hate brain fog with a passion. There’s so much I want to write about (and it’s a good thing I have a list to put my post ideas on), but when I sit down to smash it out on the keyboard, nothing happens and my ADHD kicks in and all of a sudden I’ve been trawling youtube for 18 hours.
I think Sunday will be a random thoughts kinda day. For those little things that don’t really require a post of their own, ya know? So… I’ll just ramble here for today and get back next week with a spectacularly uninspiring blog post about something inconsequential to wow and amaze my friends. Have I mentioned that this blog is legit trash? Hey, you’re the one who decided I was worth following, so you get to deal with the fallout.
1. I realized I need a meat hammer. I could have cut down my cooking time on the giant chicken boobs from dinner a few nights ago if I had only had a meat hammer. But I’m strangely resistant to using things that normal adults would use. I distinctly remember the times my mom would use her meat hammer and it was loud af. Every time I think of it, I think about how she was such a better adult then than I am now. But mostly, I remember that it was loud.
For those of you who don’t know, hubs and I share a house with his mother and the sound carries very well. Also, we keep weird time since I work third shift. It would have woken her up for sure. If you’re curious about the house set up, the house itself is a cottage type and we live in the very back in an addition that was built on in the early 70s. We pretty much live in a small studio. Back to the meat hammer… guess I’ll pull up my big girl bloomers and put it on my list of shit I need to buy soon. *sigh*
2. Maintaining friendships on social media is tiring af. It’s also, apparently, a one way street. In August last year, I decided I needed to unfollow some people and limit my timeline to a very select few friends and family and videos of cute animals, crafts, recipes and shit. It was a desperate attempt to block out all the negativity I’d been seeing on Facebook for a long time. I even posted on there that I needed to take a break from Facebook but that I could always be contacted via Messenger.
A few weeks ago, I decided to go back through my friend list and re-follow everyone because I was in a good place where I felt I could handle all the talk of politics and every other Debbie Downer conversation that takes place on social media (but shouldn’t). So as I’m scrolling through my list of people, I notice that someone deleted me. And not just on Facebook, but on all of my other platforms as well.
This someone, I had thought, was good enough friends with me, that she’d at least message me to talk it, whatever IT was, out, before just haring off and deleting me. She’s a good online friend of the hubs, has been since before he and I met. He messaged her to find out what happened and she came back with some cockamamie excuse about we hadn’t spoken to each other in a while. *blink blink*
To be quite honest, it fucking hurt my feelings. Hubs told her so and she came back with the lame suggestion of, “Well, I could re-add her?” No. That ship sailed and you’re not allowed back on it. I didn’t realize a friendship of ten years had suddenly required talking to each other on a regular basis and that, my loves, is why maintaining friendships on social media is exhausting.
3. There is no number three that I can think of and I’m now realizing that number two really could have been a post of its own, but… it’s here now and you’ll just have to deal with my longwindedness. Actually, there is a #3… Back to my mental capacity and perpetual brain fog… Poor hubby has had to explain super simple things to me the last couple of days. It bothers tf out of me because I’m usually a really sharp tack. Three separate times he’s tried to talk to me about something and I argued with him about how it didn’t make any sense to me. Wow. Really need this brain fog to gtfo.
So, those are a few of my rambles and rants for now. I know I’ll have a heap more by next Sunday. Hope everyone had a lovely weekend. Pray for me that I make it unscathed to next Sunday, lol.
For those who haven’t picked up on it yet, I work at a hotel as a night auditor. By the time I get to work at 11pm, it’s usually a ghost town and I have the place to myself.
The last hotel I worked at was more of a resort, you may have even heard of it. I’m talking about the Great Wolf Lodge. I did two stints there. If you’re thinking me saying “stints” sounds like jail, then you would be correct and you get a brownie.
That place… It really was hell. I was there for about two years the first time and it was a real eye-opener and a shitty introduction to the hospitality industry. You would think a thousand+ screaming and laughing children would have been the downside but I honestly loved that. The kids were the absolute best part about working for that hellhole.
(Side note: I am SHOCKED that “hellhole” is an actual word in the dictionary, lol.)
My second stint there lasted almost five years until I was wrongfully fired on Thanksgiving of 2015. (More on that in another blog post.) Both times were hell because my coworkers and management, bar a very select few, were terrible individuals. Catty, petty, gossipy. I hated it there but I loved the money I was making and that I had achieved 7 almost solid years at a workplace.
It wasn’t until I started working for the hotel I’m at now that I truly understood that the only good thing to come of my 7 years at the GWL was that I cut my teeth on almost every possible terrible situation that could happen in a hotel.
It prepared me to be able to handle anything that crops up at the new hotel, which is still, frankly, a breath of fresh air to me. For the first couple of months at the new place I was a very tightly wound wire and my boss had to take me aside and explain that they weren’t going to bite my head off and that I could relax. That they understood how shitty the GWL is. I wanted to cry. Seriously…
Almost a year and a half later and I’m still so happy. I love everyone I work with, management has my back in every situation, the hotel is beautifully designed. I have zero complaints. Sort of.
My one complaint shouldn’t be a complaint, but it is. As a night auditor at the GWL, the work required spanned about 5 or so hours over the 8 hour shift. Not to mention it had to contend with the myriad of angry guests, hundreds of room requests, millions of phone calls and various other unpleasant shit that went on in any given night.
As a night auditor for the new hotel, my work is completed in an hour, guests are typically asleep before I come in at 11 and the phone rarely rings, and when it does, it’s usually a guest asking for a wake-up call.
The rest of my time is typically devoted to reading a book or scrolling tumblr or facebook on my phone until about 6 and then I hang out at the front desk to greet guests as they come down in the morning for breakfast or whatever they happen to need.
It gets boring af. And when I get bored, I get bitchy and antsy and anxious and all that downtime that my brain is not engaged in a book, it’s battling with memories from like fifteen years ago when I did something and now I wonder if that person from back then still thinks about what I did and are they still angry and omg, anxiety!!! Stupid brain.
The boredom is the only thing I have to complain about. Usually. Some nights, like last night, was hectic AF. Sold out, certain room types overbooked, had to change guests original booking to smaller rooms, unhappy guests, make them happy within reason.
We’re sold out again tonight and I’m not looking forward to the potential mess that I’ll be traipsing in to. Since I left work this morning I’ve been dreading going in tonight. As of right now it’s about 9:30 at night and I’ve been watching the clock since until I just slapped myself an hour or so ago when I reminded myself that this hotel isn’t the GWL and that I’m grateful AF for the lessons it taught me and that I can more than handle anything that crops up with a grace and dignity that I never had while working for the GWL.
I have it so good. I legit love my job. It literally takes one moment to remember how bad I had it at the last place to remember those two facts and then all is right in my little trashy world.
So… lemme pull on my big girl panties, put on some fucking makeup and give the GWL a middle finger. (Not gonna lie. If we ever have to drive by, I stick both middle fingers out of my window at them. Childish? You fucking bet!)
With all of that in mind, it’s easy to say, “Not today, Satan, not today.”
I’m a few minutes late posting this, but hubby said to post it anyway because it’s still Wednesday somewhere… So, here you go!
The owner of the hotel I work at loathes when we front desk people leave our office door open. We’ve flouted those rules for a very long time now, but apparently, no longer. We have a new regional director and she told me tonight that it can’t stay open anymore. Sucks for me because I like lurking in dark places and watching the cameras to see who approaches the desk before I make my attack. Naturally, I complained to the hubby and said…
Me: I’ll have to buy a cushion for the table I like to sit on while I’m at the desk.
Me: It hurts my hoo-ha after sitting on it a while.