Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


I'm a Bowl of Pea Soup Away...

from being Reagan in the Exorcist. My head is spinning so fast, I don't know what the hell is going on. (Although I do have a strange desire to tell Richard Pryor that "[his] mother sews socks in hell.")

Thursday, after a bit of deliberation, and one long, drawn out conversation with our director/benevolent dictator, we decided to close The Little Nonprofit That Could (drive me to become a raging alcoholic). We spent Thursday afternoon in a flurry of activity; calling the newspaper ( in which we were featured LAST Sunday) to cancel our lecture series, letting our guest speakers know we couldn't host them, calling the people who RSVP'd for our open house and deciding our plan of dissolution.
Friday, I wrote a letter for our members, wrote out refund checks, addressed, stamped, stuffed and licked about 700 letters (with the assistance of the indefatigable G Monkey, of course). This used up almost every sheet of paper, and every envelope in the office, I might add. When we left on Friday (I had to work at the codger corral, so I couldn't stay), I was about 100 letters short of completing the mailing. The letter had time sensitive information, letting our members know that The Little Nonprofit That Could (make me justify workplace violence) was closing, and letting us go out with grace and dignity. We asked our Benevolent Dictator to please finish the mailing and, since it was already indicia'd and arranged by Zip code, it merely needed to be dropped off at the post office. I left for my weekend thinking everything was ok. A bit sad, because despite my needing to leave, I thought The Little Nonprofit That Could (make me wish I had an army of bees that shot lasers out of their eyes) would go beyond me. (Ok, and I thought that 2 of the upcoming authors were rather cute, which didn't hurt any either.)

Imagine my surprise and dismay as I breezed into work this morning to find that absolutely nothing had been done with the mailing. Actually, I take it back. something had been done to the mailing. It had been moved off of the table, and onto a big ol' chair. Seething, I finished the mailing, which only took about an hour, loaded it into trays, and got it ready to go. By this time, G Monkey rolled in, and wondered where our benevolent dictator was, and why the hell she didn't finish the mailing. We tried to track down the benevolent dictator (and even went so far as to call Mr. Benevolent Dictator to see if he knew a) where the hell she was or b) if she had said anything to him about perhaps why she hadn't finished the damn mailing. (He was, I am proud to report, his usual toolish self, and was absolutely no help.)

At long last, the Benevolent Dictator rolled in to work. At 11:15. Acting as if nothing had happened last week. In fact, Ol' B.D. decided that maybe she DOES want to keep The Little Nonprofit That Could (seriously harm my mental health) going. She wants to restructure The Little Nonprofit That Could (maybe even kill me), and fundraise, and get a board going (perhaps she even means it this time). And oh-by-the-way, I guess we'll have to do another $*)(!)%_!&$&#(@)! mailing, instead of the one I just did. B.D. then proceeded to insinuate that I was a major reason why she wanted to close The Little Nonprofit That Could (make me cry) in the first place.

Backstory: When I first started at The Little Nonprofit That Could (at one time have made me very happy), I thought I could live on my pittance. I was incorrect, and found that out very quickly. Mamma and Pappa Sauce are wonderful people, but I am rapidly reaching the point of wearing out my welcome. When we originally approached BD about seriously restructuring and imposing budgets etc, I asked for either an increase in salary, or I was going to have to, unfortunately, leave. I am being paid to do receptionist work, when I perform well above and beyond what a receptionist does. (Advertising, marketing, budget, bookeeping, etc.) She met me in the middle for my salary request, shortly after first agreeing to restructure and commit to making things work, to recanting everything. In light of that, I was not comfortable accepting this (knowing that if I did, and would ever leave, I would be "the bad guy") and immediately began putting out resumes.

Apparently my refusal of her offer (which she waited until I was in the middle of lunch with G. Monkey, to ask me if I decided to accept or not, and caught me completely off guard) "Deflated and shocked" her, and the knowledge that I might leave, along with G. Monkey's iteration that she cannot live on her salary, much less ever have a child (especially without health insurance)- and if any other position were offered to G, she would have to take it... these things apparently caused our Benevolent Dictator to want to close up shop. Twice- TWIIIIIIIIICE I tried to explain to BD my reasons for turning down her offer (see above), and she completely ignored me. (Which is unwise, but I held my tongue. Damn near bit it off, but I held it.) And, among other things- it was us who made her call off the lecture series, and for that, WE are the bad guys. We just wanted us to go out with a little dignity, instead of completing another season with wooden smiles, lies, and a whole hell of a lot of discomfort. She dragged out her litany of complaints again, and I left at 12:00-


G. Monkey did set our benevolent dictator straight on a few points this afternoon in my absence. Which is good- she's so good at working with BD. It's really hard for me to not burst out with "Are you fucking KIDDING me" half the time, when we're talking. She told BD that the least she owes me is the opportunity to explain exactly why I turned down her offer, and a few other things. I'm going in late tomorrow, because there may still be nothing for me to do until Friday, when maybe a different mailing will go out. Who knows, by then the Benevolent Dictator may decide that she still wants to close down the Little Nonprofit That Could (cause weeping, gnashing of teeth, lower G.I. problems, and rashes). Then again, she may want to merge us with the local Scientology branch or something. All I know is my resume is getting punched up, new cover letters are being written, and I'll be hitting the pavement until some poor soul takes pity on me, and I can get the hell AWAY from the Little Nonprofit That Could (suck away the very last traces of my will to live).

Current mood: Vengeful
Current goal: gainful employment
Current outlook: wistful

That is all.


It's Fair Season Again!

In the spirit of love and caring, I want all none of you to read this to pay attention to this next missive. It may keep your limbs intact, and your wallets unfleeced.

It's fall. Glorious, illustrious fall. The leaves are changing, the mercury is slowly dropping, and the crazy guy at the end of the block is going to be gainfully employed for a week and a half. That's right, boys and girls, it's Fair Season! Here in my section of Pennsyltucky, every town has its own fair. You can't swing a dead cat without hittin' a funnel cake booth, and I am delighted. Fair season brings the first real feeling of fall, and provides an excuse to eat everything short of gym socks, battered and deep fried (usually on a stick, too), made by men who have enough spatter residue on their upper body to lube a 58 Buick.

Fair Season also brings the Midway, and this is where my real warning comes in. Eat as much fried food as you want, (personally, I will stock up on fries, funnel cake, snickers fritters, fried pickles, and if I can find it- fried lasagna or I'll settle for Fried ShooFly pie. And maybe a lemonade, and a cream puff too) Your cholesterol is between you and your doctor. No, I'm here to save you from dangerous midway rides. I offer to you, a list of rides and attractions that you should, under no circumstances, board or even get within 15 feet of.

"Uncle Jeddroes Trailer Park Twister Ride"
The "Kissin' Cousin's Tunnel of Luv"
The "Spine Snapper"
The "Extra Chromosome Splice-O-Matic"
The "I'll give you something to cry about" Strength Challenge
The "Rusty Fishhook"
The "Duct Tape and Baling Twine Express"
The "Guess the baby daddy" booth
The toss a ping-pong ball "Win a Pit Bull" booth
The "Ruby Ridge Shootout" booth
The "Bobbing for venison" booth
The "Catch a Greased Geezer" event
The "Parole Officer Shuffle"
The "broken bottle pit"
The "Deliverance Tunnel Of Love"
The "haunted vd clinic"

I hope that I have been able to save you, and perhaps a loved one fom tragedy and heartache.

I also highly recommend the chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick.

...That is all.


Holy Cannoli!

Yes. Cannoli.

For I have tasted the pastry, and it was crispy. Its creamy ricotta filling was perfectly sweet. The miniature chocolate chips were subtle. The powdered sugar was understated. I very nearly had to smoke a cigarette after enjoying the delightful little dessert.

I'm talkin' Termini Brothers baby.

Their cannoli is proof that there is a god, somewhere, and she definitely wants us to be happy.

And they deliver.

Now if I could just get Ambrosia to airmail me a Florida Roll or twelve, I may never have to leave my house again.


Of course, I wasn't in Philadelphia just for the Cannoli, although that would be reason enough. No, I was in Philly to explore Fabric Row, and find some lovely prints for our Apron-a-thon (or whatever we decide to call this). We got a lot of exciting fabric, and barely made a dent in 4th street. Most places were closed for the holidays, so we missed out, but the ones we did go to- Wunnerful! So, we'll have to make a few more trips down there, and enjoy ourselves. (And cannoli.)

Today's Mood : Forgetful
Today's Project: Multidirectional Diagonal Scarf in Gefrida's Stripes.
Today's Goal: To find out who put the bop in the bop sh'bop sh'bop.

Miscellaneous Link Du Jour- Because someday, I will Marry R.K. Milholland.

That is all.


Holy Slacker, Batman!

Yikes! Ok, so I've been a bit of a slacker. (And by "bit" I mean, "complete and total".) If I swore to you (all none of you, who are reading this) that it was for a good reason would you believe me?

Nah. I wouldn't believe me either (it's the shifty, beady eyes).

OK. In the intervening time I have managed to turn another year older, and continue to inch toward that age where things like "decency" and "respectability" are mandatory.

I'm also still employed by the little guild that could. (yeah, could drive me crazy, could turn me into a raging alcoholic, could suck my will to live, could make me question every move I make, could remove all sense of dignity and self-worth and could continue to employ me at poorhouse wages.) I'm also still playing Resume Roulette. So. Here's the pitch.

If anyone is looking for a qualified, experienced, competent Administrative Assistant, Executive Secretary, or other similar position, feel free to contact me. I have excellent skills, impeccable phone manners, am ridiculously organized, learn new things rapidly, and am a thousand times more polite in person than I am on here. Salary is negotiable, but things like health insurance are not.

This is something new for me, because usually, I'm the girl everyone wants- but I've put out at least a dozen resumes and re-upped at my local temp agency (where I was their Temp of the Month, for god's sakes, and had nothing but positive reviews, and was even hired Permanently by one of my placements) and have heard NOTHING. A bit disheartening. The big boss knows I am looking. She agreed to provide a pay raise (less than what I was asking) with a 40 hour week, but it still wouldn't kick in immediately, and she wasn't offering a similar package for my co-worker who needs the money just as badly, and has been there 4 years longer than I had.

The whole thing about the little guild that could (...) is really kind of sad, because it has so much potential, if it weren't for the fact that we work for a woman who is absolutely batshit crazy. There is no advance planning. Everything is triage, for a zillion reasons. I could share stories that would make your hair fall out, but they'll serve no purpose but to make me want to cry. This isn't really how I envisioned things turning out, you know?

But enough self-obsessed navel-gazing.

On to self-obsessed chipperness.

Things seem to really be coming together for a business plan with G-Monkey. (Familial naysaying aside) We had a really encouraging meeting with a local small-businesswoman and have new direction for starting up.

I also have a jonesing to do some writing again, and perhaps that will show up here. Fall usually gets my creative muck flowing.

Today's mood: Angrily Perplexed.

Today's projects: 1300 random direct mail pieces (with papercuts on my tongue to prove it)
Multi-directional diagonal scarf with neat tomatoey stripey yarn from gefrida.
Maintaing will to live.

Tomorrow's goal: at least starting to sew the placemats for Saturday's craft at the codger corral.

That is all.