I believe in options

I do not have much to write about this evening. I do, however, need to apologize to the general public for my miserable attitude over the past week. I don't have anything to really say for myself that isn't an excuse; And we know what they say about excuses...

I haven't been feeling 100%, not necessarily ill, just off, which is rather unexplained and unnerving in itself. I was turned down for financial aid, and I'm still trying to get that figured out and situated. I've been extremely busy and have chosen to neglect sleep to be able to get everything else done. I'm still philandering around trying to find a new job, something that pays a good bit more, so I can feel like I'm doing my share in the financial department of our marriage. I miss my husband, I feel like I never get to see him because of our conflicting work schedules. There are  other reasons behind my mood, but as much as I love you dear blog, the world is not ready for those Kitty-isms. The above mentioned reasons/excuses/items are also referred to as life. I need to shut up about it, and buck up. I could be currently handed a much worse list, but the karma gods are still at bay for the moment I suppose.

Basically like I said, nothing but excuses. I'm just in a foul mood, and have never been so grateful that a weekend was readily approaching, so I could pout in the privacy of my own home. I've been in the nastiest mood, I need to just snap out of it.

Is there a pill for that? No? A solid thumbs down to that.

My mood was so foul this week that I'm actually going to purchase a card to apologize to one particular person, whom I will refer to as my Samantha Jones. I feel the need to use a card because she loves cards, I think she actually likes picking cards more than getting them. Maybe I should tell her to go pick her own out, and I'll sign it. Also, Samantha is my boss, and I'm shocked she hasn't knocked me out of my chair with the strong backhand I know she possess', or just fired me this week. She is the one who is trapped in a 10x10 office with me for 9 hours a day, thus, she gets the absolute brunt of my moods. Again, how she has not murdered me and buried me on the playground this week alone, is a miracle, I'm sure. I'll be giving her that card tomorrow, with my tail between my legs.

I need to be ashamed of myself, for being adult and being in such a Veruca Salt state of mind for the past week. What is the matter with me? Who knows, but hopefully tomorrow at work we have an awesome day, even though a co-worker I love is finishing out her two week notice tomorrow. Maybe I can blame my mood on that? No? Okay then. I finally get to spend a whole weekend with my husband, so hopefully that eases my tension and irritability. Please God, snap me out of this. That's my prayer before I go to bed tonight; It's probably all of my co-workers prayers too.

The highlight of my week has been this statement from Tippy P. Hopplebuns;

'I believe in options.'

Me too, Tippy. Me too. Thank you for letting me know that I am not the only one.

You're irritable too, you're just cuter at it than I am. Just sayin'.

A penny for your thoughts...

So, will a dollar shut you up? How about five dollars?

Have you ever felt like that? Like you would love to buy someone's silence? Not silence about a secret, or an event; No. Silence in general, like you need them to become a mute, instantly, or you may crawl into your own skin and disintegrate.

Have you ever purposly found something meaningless or extra to do, just to be on the other side of the building from them? Hidden in a bathroom faking an upset stomach maybe? I have a good list I go through to avoid them, whether it be unwanted loud mouthed company at home, or a pain in the ear co-worker. Oh please, we've all had at least one of them! You are more likely than not related to a few.

When people are shifting in their seats, or have visible signs of discomfort on their face when you're speaking, you should stop. It may be the subject, or it may just be you. Either way, just stop. Do us both a solid and grab a Twix, because I need a darn minute.

It's a shame life doesn't have a 'hide' button for selected people, like Facebook does. That hide button would make all the difference. Just sayin'.

Tippy P. Hopplebuns

Yes, you read it right; It says Tippy P. Hopplebuns. Who is Tippy P. Hopplebuns you ask? Tippy is my new pet name for my favorite friend that I have in my life right now. The nick-name is peppy, fun, and somehow odd; Leaving you with questions about what she's thinking. It suites her perfectly.

Tippy is a divine friend, and she says the right things at the right times. Also, she makes the right faces at the right times. I adore her! She is truly a go getter, and she has a straight head  on her shoulders. I am proud she has befriended me in such a way, and that she listens to my miserable, undoubtedly depressing, rantings on a nearly daily basis. Her typical solution to a problem is to go get 'Starbucks Wasted'; Completely amazing I say, completely amazing. Seeing her cry breaks my heart, and simultaneously gives me the urge to stab whoever made her sad.

 I can also see myself going on a road trip with her, maybe not across the country, but to another state for sure. Smoking Marlboro Smooths all the way, and talking crap about the Desperate Housewives of the Highway I'm sure. I think she is the type that would make the trip just as fun as the destination.

All in all, I love you Tippy. I can honestly say you are the best friend I have, out of anyone I know. My husband is not included in that statement by the way, before anyone puts their two cents in on it. My husband is the best aspect of my life at any given time, and for that (as well as a million other things) I adore him.

I tip my hat to you Tippy; It's not often I actually like someone the moment I meet them. It's also not often that I don't get the urge to physically harm them a month into the friendship.

For that, you deserve kudos. Just sayin'.

A place for everything...

And everything in its place. Right? Not in my house, well, my bathroom for sure. Each time I enter my bathroom there are at least the following 5 things out of their obvious, easily reachable, designated place. My husband's deodorant, his Axe body spray, the toothpaste, his lotion, and one prescription bottle. All in one little cluster/line on the counter. The deodorant and body spray belong in a blue basket on the right of the sink. The toothpaste and his lotion belong on the back of the counter to the left of the sink, and the prescription bottle belongs  in the medicine cabinet. Other items that are occasionally added to the disarray are a new roll of toilet paper (complemented by an empty tube remaining on the hanger), a hairbrush, and his electric razor.

Why? It takes me about 10 seconds to put those things back in their rightful homes, and change the roll of toilet paper, if necessary.

Why just leave it?

I don't think I will ever have a real answer to that question. I also suppose that as long as leaving it there is the last step in his bathroom routine, putting it back will be the first step in mine.

I would also like to point out, that if I'm in a hurry, and a few articles of my make-up don't quite make it back into their designated drawer, I get a lecture. I don't think that's very fair, yet, I'm still just sayin'.

Curiosity killed the Kat...

The title of this blog so kindly comes from a co-worker of mine, who I will refer to as 'Meow Wilbur-Beans'; She knows the exact reasoning of this entry, as does the rest of the staff!
Curiosity is slowly killing me; but it's not my personal curiosity, it's a co-worker's curiosity. She is beyond a shadow of a doubt, the nosiest woman I have ever encountered in all my days. She just watches you while you're talking to other people. I can feel her radar powered ears pointing towards me the second I open my mouth. It's insane. She just appears out of nowhere, and instantly knows what you're talking about. Most likely because she was eavesdropping for 20 minutes before she was comfortable enough with the conversation (that didn't involve her) to finally join in. That, or she pops over the fence and says 'what?' in the middle of your sentence. She's like the neighbor you avoid like the plague.

What happened to manners? Speak when spoken to? Not interrupting? Those were drilled into me at a very early age, but apparently not everyone was raised that way. What a shame that is.

I know this doesn't seem like it should be this big of a deal; Yet it is. It is for every other single member of the staff also. She is driving us crazy. We all just thank the Polkadot Gods that she leaves for lunch every day, so we get an hour peace.

I do not like her. I've passed my judgement, and it will take a very large helping of awesomeness from her to have her re-graded on the Kitty-Grading-Curve. Until then, she fails, miserably.

Overall, I give her a 12% out of 100%; Just sayin'.

Financially Speaking...

Today I called the college to see if they received my FAFSA application. They had, and it was denied. Then I applied for every other loan and grant they gave me; Those all got denied instantly too. Apparently my husband's income puts me 'over the fence' financially. Alright, fair enough, we pay our bills, and don't necessarily go without; Yet, if you throw in a $500/month tuition bill, I can't afford other things, such as electric.

I didn't have many programs to choose from, but there were plenty for other walks of life; Such as a Hispanic Scholarship Fund, American Indian Graduate Center, Asian and Pacific Islander American Scholarship Fund, oh, and of course the United Negro College Fund. Where is mine for being Caucasian? I can't have the same option because my skin is white, as a spanish person gets for having an awesome natural tan? Or what about me as a Jew? My 'people' were persecuted in a pretty severe way, being baked, gassed and tortured in other ways; How is that any different than an African American getting a 'Negro Fund' because of slavery? I'm pretty sure any Jew would have chosen slavery over their camps and ovens; Just sayin'.

I guess I'll never know the exact breakdown of these programs, and I've probably spoken completely out of turn. I do not care though; I'm mad I'm not going to be able to start school in August, unless I win the lottery. Maybe I should play it. I'm also just tired of applying, it's made me sick of my own personal information!

With that, I'm headed into shower, and then into my bed early, possibly to cry. I know God works in mysterious ways, and that everything will work out, but I really, really, really wanted this.

Sticks and stones

I have been extremely busy lately; but this is my vow to stop neglecting my blog! As busy as we've been, there really isn't much new to report. My husband got a promotion of sorts at the sheriff's office, the dog had an ear infection, my car registration is due, oh, and I've finally decided what I'm going to go to school for. I intend to do my best at getting into a nursing program at the local college. I haven't done school-type anything in close to 7 years, so studying for the test to get into the program has been fun. I realized during my studying fit over the past week that I despise fractions more in my adult life than I did in 6th grade! What ridiculous little things they are, and what random ways we have of doing equations with them!

Yesterday my place of employment competed in a 'story book forest' competition. We came in third out of about 16 other business', so I'd call that a wash. We worked so hard on this, and being that it is April in Florida, it was ridiculously hot outside. That being said, we headed to my boss' swanky pool in her swanky development... Now every time we go, there are these four women, whom we have so lovingly named the desperate housewives. They are constantly talking behind each others backs when one goes to the restroom, and so on. They're really fabulous people, naturally. As one of my co-workers was walking to the gate, she heard one of the desperate housewives say 'honey, you look pregnant'. Now, not knowing whether or not she was catching part of a conversation, or if it was directed at her, she did  not lose her mind on them, she just kept walking. Let me tell you about my friends body. I would kill her for it. Huge happy-to-see-you boobs, tiny waist, slender thighs, and curves you could ski off of. She's damn sexy. Now, the desperate housewives on the other hand, they're all a hot mess, in Ill-fitting tankinis. So, of course, this tidbit of info spawned us into a small badmouthing marathon geared towards them from our little side of paradise. I've decided they're jealous of her body, as am I, and they just couldn't contain it anymore. So, to the desperate housewives of The Trillium housing development..... I say sticks and stones ladies, sticks and stones. Also, you're faces look like poorly crafted leather, as well of the rest of your bodies. Just sayin'.