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.



So I think somehow Bosslady found out where I am. She called my cell phone today, and someone (damn the fact that there is no caller ID here) has been calling the house all day. I blame Stoltz-a-ma-fus. She's probably been riding his ass about the event invites that should have been done 2 weeks ago. (Not my fault. She had the timeline before I quit. She could have planned ahead.)

I? Am not answering, the phone. Because everyone who counts, knows that G. Monkey is on vacation, and all of our friends have my cell phone number.

So I'm already entertaining paranoid fantasies about her. She's coming over. She was behind me in traffic. She's got the house staked out. Gaaaah. Fuckin' a. Damn mind.

And the continuing saga of the dealin' neighbors progresses. Apparently the cops are getting the list of license plate numbers today. Odie was a bit pissed off that the cops wouldn't pay him any mind when HE reported this a week ago. My father played the guilt card, apparently. He said to the female officer "Well, my conscience is clear. Even if you guys don't do anything and the toddler finds and eats their stash, and dies, my conscience is clear, because I told you guys. It's on you now. " So, we'll see what happens. I haven't gone home yet today,

The Muppet Show DVDs Odie gave me were most awesome indeed. Steve Martin, Gilda Radner, and Carole Burnett comprised DVD 1, and George Burns, Dom DeLuise, and Bob Hope comprised DVD 2. It was great to have a bit of my childhood back. And if I ever have any chillin of my own, they will indeed be raised on the Muppet Show. After watching them at this age, I now understand why my generation grew up as demented as it did. (And thank Elvis we did.)

So Diesel destroyed one of the pillows on the upstairs couch today. A throw pillow, ancient, from Ikea- so it's not excessively valuable- and I'm apparently going to have to take every single pillow-like object upstairs and stash it till her parents come home. (This one? She did while I was upstairs reading. Argh.)

Special shout out to my mom for making me think that I look like ass in every item I own, with her well-timed comment about one of my favorite outfits. Apparently said outfit, which has earned compliments from everyone I have worn it around, is "terribly unflattering" and is "makes your arms look like crap, and doesn't do your boobs any favors either". (mind you, she didn't say it in person, but in an email, when I mentioned my choices for interview wear) And when I wear my tall shoes I look "like an apple on a stick". Thanks for that, Mom. I'm considering a nun's habit or perhaps a chador, but they'd make me look wide as a barn too.

But I ramble, and I'm crampy, and I feel like I'm a giant walking blood clot, so that's not helping matters either. Pfui. I will go read more Rex Stout, and Calvin & Hobbes cartoons, and my crappy arms and my unfavored boobs will enjoy the remnants of today's portion of Toblerone, and sulk (all the while watching over my shoulder for insane former employers).


Blogger parcequilfaut said...

Your bosslady is stalking you. That's so fucked up.

I don't think the next door toddler could die from eating a stash (since toxic dose is 40 lbs consumed in 1 hour for adults), but I'm glad the creepy folks are getting ousted.

I want Muppet Show DVDs! Waaaahh...

Oh well. Sent out the invites for the birthday bash, we'll see what happens.

8:00 PM  
Blogger GoddessAradia said...

bosslady? Could someone direct me to the correct archive on this?

Jesus, your mom is worse than mine at insults!

11:07 AM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...

Well, she probably wasn't trying to be insulting, just motherly. She's good at that whole "self esteem building" thing... heh. Otherwise, she rocks it.

Ah, for archives, check out November-May of this year- probably really good stuff in January/February/March, I'm thinking. I'll read through, and if there's stuff that sounds good, I'll link ya.

And Parce- Good point, she probably couldn't die from weed, but that might not be the only thing they're dealing. Regardless, it seems like the only thing you can do to get the cops to do anything is mention "it's for the chillllldrennnnn!" (how I hate to use that...)

11:42 AM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...

This is one that sticks out in my mind as being especially stupid...

This is a pretty decent example too.

this is from the night she showed up at an after-hours, offsite meeting, IN MY FRIEND'S HOME completely cracked out of her mind on drugs. this is related.

I probably have a lot of anger issues. it looks like everything past February starts to pick up... Heh.

11:52 AM  
Blogger GoddessAradia said...

Oh. My. Gawd.

I am so sorry. Mother/Father God/dess please for give me fr EVER complaining about my boss EVER.

No dissing to your mom SS. My mothers fav respnse is "That looks...................................nice, I guess."

3:44 PM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...

No diss taken, Honest. :) *LOL* That sounds like my mom too- "Oh, that? I guess it looks... fine." Heh.

That woman is indeed the worst person I've ever worked for. She still keeps calling (hence yesterday's post) despite the fact that I. Don't. Work. For. Her. Anymore.

I'm sure she's calling now because they're working on invitations for this gala event that is taking place at the end of next month. (I made up a timeline before I left of what needed to be done, and when it was due by. Last I heard, she called Stoltz-a-ma-fus last weekend and told him to "just put them together, you know what the changes are", as she was in california on vacation, and Stoltz-a-ma-fus was very much of the "Um, not." persuasion. so... There's nothing I could do for her now anyway. I made the timelines, I set up as much as I could, and wrote her a freakin' manual. If she, or a member of her committee couldn't figure it out, it's not my problem anymore.)

*humming "You Don't Own Me..."*


4:12 PM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...

And I was a good housesitter today. Sorta.

My dad's making G. Monkey some bookcases, and has been for months... they'll be done Wednesday, the day after G. gets back. The room they're supposed to go into? Full of boxes of books and other assorted detritus. I moved 85% of the stuff, because I'm good like that. Will probably do the rest tomorrow.

Did their laundry too, but mitigated that by breaking the dryer knob. (I think it may have been on its last leg, though.) I know how much I hate coming home from vacation, and having all that... STUFF there waiting for you, so... this way, they're set.
I'll do some more cleaning this weekend, not crazy like G. Monkey does, but enough so that they go, "Hey wow!" when they get home. Hee!

(Because Mr. & Mrs. G. Monkey? Rock that hard.)

4:15 PM  
Blogger parcequilfaut said...

Awww. Love for the G. Monkey.

See, CDH, I told you your bosslady could be worse.

ET, the first thing out of my lovely and gracious sister in law's mouth when she came home today was "Holy shit, Special Sauce's bosslady SUCKS!" or something to that effect...I don't remember exactly what the last expletive was.

"It's for the chiiiilllddrreenn..." I had to pull that once on a dude I kind of knew, but there blow was involved. I feel the suckage on that.

My mom's identity building goes like this...
"Your hair used to be so pretty, when are you going to cut that mess off?" and
"That outfit would look better without that hair."

I figure as long as I keep the hair she won't bitch too much about anything else except the tattoos.

5:48 AM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...


Now I can look back on it all and laugh. At the time? Not so much. The woman's a nutjob.

9:41 AM  
Blogger Memphis Word Nerd said...

My mom finally quit complaining about my weight. Unfortunately, she hasn't stopped with the "nice girls don't have sex until they're married" comments. For the record, I? AM THIRTY. I'm pretty sure that I'm too old to fit in the nice girl category, no matter how much or how little sex I may choose to have. I swear if she doesn't cut it out I'm going to have sex on the middle of her dining room table.

During Thanksgiving dinner.

With three midgets and a donkey.

(Or do you think I can get a marriage license for them?)

2:35 PM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...

You forgot "while using the turkey in ways it was never intended to be, and ruining mashed potatoes for everyone, for life".

It's also fun to use the midgets as a film crew.

Not that I speak from experience or anything....

My parents like to believe I am still pure as the driven snow. Then again, I like to believe my brother and I were products of immaculate conception too, so I guess neither one of us wants to think about the other gettin' it on... *shudder*

6:15 PM  
Blogger parcequilfaut said...

And that, Sauce, is the way it should be.

When the Artist and I lived together my dad asked me how it felt to be a kept woman. (I had quit my job and was looking for another.) I was furious for so long it wasn't funny. But that's the closest we come to talking about sex.

11:43 PM  

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