All good things must come to an end, right? Right.

So. Many of you know that I have been pounding the pavement (so to speak) for roughly six years (Let that sink in....Six. Years.) looking for a new kind of job. Going to grad school was supposed to open doors (NOT), putting in my time was supposed to lead to a promotion (again..not), etc, etc, etc.


What DID happen was a lot of hair pulling, cursing, bruised eye-balls (there's only so much job hunting a person can do online before her eyes want to fall out of their sockets), therapy, and the feeling that I was never, ever going to find anything I could do besides what I had done professionally for the past 13 years.

Boy. Was I wrong.

Thank. God.

That said, do not think for one second that I am not grateful to the company who is employing me until March 8th, 2012. I am. Very much so. They provided me with the opportunity to buy my own home, my car, take a smattering of trips and all in all, having not too bad of a life.

Leaving something you know like the back of your hand? Is scary. But it's time for me to step out of my comfort zone and embrace my future.

And that future doesn't include unpacking boxes, being mistaken for a college student (damn!), and a job that has become so monotonous, I don't have to think much anymore.

So, I'm on to learn a whole new world, meet all new people from all walks of life. I'm super excited, but extremely appreciative of the colleagues I've had for the past six years. They have made my job enjoyable, even fun sometimes. I can't say I loved coming to work everyday, but it wasn't because of who I worked with--but rather--what I was doing and how trapped I felt in my life. That, I'm truly hoping, is a feeling I won't have again for a long, long time. (Big thanks to all of you--and you know who you are).

Now. For the funny stuff.

For someone who hadn't had an interview in several years, the past seven months were a slew of meet and greets (And by slew--I mean 3. And that wasn't for lack of effort. I found over 400 cover letters on my thumb drive..that should tell you something right there.) One of the interviews was in a building downtown. It was actually my second interview for a position shockingly similar to what I currently hold, but I was flattered to have the opportunity and was stunned, at myself, when I told them "Thank you--but no thank you." They had me come in for the second interview anyway. I figured, what the hell--why not. It's good practice, right?

Yeah. It's good practice until you walk into the men's room.

But that's not the worst part.

Nope. That would be the fact that I used the men's room.

Yup. I was so out of it, I walked right in, hung my purse on the hook on the stall and took a seat. The outside door opened and I noticed a pair of loafers.

Large. Loafers.

And stupidly then thought "Gawd. That poor woman has HUGE feet. Wait? Why are her feet facing the wall. Is she peeing? How in the hell is she peeing facing the wall?!?!"

Earth to moron. You are the one peeing the wrong room, not the man using the urinal. You have no idea of the horror and mortification that hit me all at once. I was peeing. In the men's room. In a building where I had just had a job interview. I suddenly was cursing myself for not noticing the shoe choices of the men on the panel who had conducted the interview. It's a mistake I will never make again.

Or maybe I shouldn't make trying to figure the best way to sneak out of the men's room a habit? Then the shoe choices of random men won't be so important. Hmmm.

I had to wait for him to finish (And was pleasantly surprised when he washed his hands. Trust me, if women think they are alone in the bathroom--they don't. Well, I do--but I have found I am not the norm. I don't know why, but I'm very good at hiding in bathrooms.) to sneak out and run in to the ladies across the tiny hallway. I wasn't taking any chances of hand washing in the men's room. I had pressed my luck enough.

The lesson? Be sure to read the sign on the door--your kind may not be welcome inside : )

And new jobs may be scary--but it's all for the best in the end. (And they certainly aren't as scary as potentially being labeled a pervert in the workplace.)

Driving is disgusting...or is it men?

Okay...it takes a lot to gross me out. You're talking to (or reading from, more accurately) a woman who can eat dinner while watching autopsy shows. Enjoy a snack whilst watching how numerous wives/husbands/boyfriends/girlfriends have dismembered their significant others (Why is murder more okay than divorce? No..really. Tell me.)

That said.....there is one thing that can make me gag-a-maggot faster than anything. Snot/Mucus. (Spit comes in a close second due to an unfortunate incident when I was in fourth grade when a bully of a girl spit directly on to each of the lenses of my glasses. I promptly ralphed on her shoes. Payback's a bitch, huh?)

Okay, maybe it's not good for you to know my kryptonite, but there you have it. Why is this such a big deal?

I was minding my own business this morning, driving along in the gloomy mist of the morning (Oooh! Look at me being all fancy...) when I happened to take a look out my driver's side window.

And that...is when it happened.

The disgusting man in the beat down old Ford in front of me stuck his head out of his window...and.....

Hocked. A. Lugey.

No. Shit.

And it landed?

On my driver's side window.

Let that sink in. There was a big wad of another human being's SNOT on my window.

And it wouldn't come off! And I'm driving along trying not vomit as this lugey is wobbling in the wind.

God I hope it rains....I would really prefer NOT to scrape a snot wad off my car this afternoon. But hey--if it is dry, at least it won't jiggle like jello!

Okay, just even thinking about is making me want to throw up again. Blah.

Do me a favor people..don't spit out of a moving vehicle. Please?

Thank you in advance...

Sorta Squeamish

Slacker? Thy name is Rhea...

You want to get good at something? Then you should practice at it...you know--do it over and over and over again.

Well. Clearly someone doesn't plan on being a writer anytime soon. I can give plenty of excuses, but that's just what they are--excuses.

Play time is over children...I'm getting back to work.

Computer issues? Fixed. And look at the super cute new laptop case/bag/cover thingy I bought (this is the back):


Yes. I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old..I know, I know. (Kitty HATES you..bwah, hah, hah..it's an old joke that never doesn't make me laugh). And? If this doesn't get people to talk to me at Starbucks, I don't know what will. Great place to meet boys my ass....

In a mere few weeks, I will have new carpet down in my bedroom and office...which I will then re-design to actually allow me to write in it. Currently my desk is in my bedroom. And it gets used about as much as you think it would in such a poor location..it holds laundry that needs to be folded. And sad, sad socks that have lost their mates. Very, very sad. So sad that I really do think I'm going to make this thing and hang it on the door of my dryer--check it out (I found it on Pinterest...which is like crack for white girls...):

                                              

Clearly--I'm on said website, so you should totally follow me (roo13). I have very interesting things that could and should change your life. Like apple pies made from apples!
                                              

Is your mind blown yet?

It should be.

And when I get my groove back--don't blame me when your brain is shredded to bits.