What Happens in Vegas

Hello my darlings,

Happy New Years Eve, or as I prefer to call it, Happy Good F*ing Riddance 2016!  In 2016 I lost two uncles, one aunt, one job, one dog and one husband.  Needless to say this entire year has pretty much sucked, so I am very happy to welcome 2017 with the anticipation that it has got to be better than 2016.  One silver lining in all of this chaos is the job situation!  The timing of that layoff could not have been better.  I am very lucky to have received that severance package and have the time available to keep myself busy and distracted so I don't actually have to deal with the madness that is my real life. Since my last coffee update I've gone to Vegas, moved the old people home (aka shopping, dusting, toilet scrubbing and laundry) engaged in/co-hosted one very debaucherous happy hour, began coordinating the a memorial service/celebration-of life service, initiated a mass purge of my closet and a guest room that's been housing the previously purged closet items and started planning a spring trip to Tuscany with my friend Kristen.

Where oh where shall I begin this tale.....  I could start at the beginning, but chronology bores me, so I think I'll start with the fun and go from there in any damn order I choose... you all know how I do loves being in control!!!!  ❤️ (I also love how auto-correct tries to tell me that I should say "love" instead of "loves" in that sentence, to which I say screw you auto-correct I do LOVES me some control!) FWIW I do NOT resolve to become a grownup in 2017, so this shit will continue... You're welcome!

Honestly, don't all of the best tales end in debauchery?  Clearly, that's where this nonsense must begin.  In order to keep in touch with some of former IHS co-workers, I attempt, thoughnot always successfully, to coordinate happy hours for us to get together a few times per year.  As a result of my shitshow life, newly found freedom from responsibility (I do know that shit will get REAL once this whole probate business gets going, but until then I'm in responsibility limbo) and love of all things happy hour, I asked my friends Tom and Kim if we could host a happy hour at their house and if I could spend the night so I didn't have to behave or figure out how to get my drunk butt home.  Since they too love all things happy hour and take pity on my sorry ass they said yes.  The story that I am sticking with is that technically I only had ONE glass of wine (ok, full confession I drank 3 while we were getting this ready before the others arrived) but the one glass that I am telling you about, somehow became a couple of bottles, (ish - counting was not a thing I did or could even possibly consider doing) because my dear friend Alex kept refilling my damn glass.  Every time I got near the bottom of the glass more wine magically appeared.  Short of that whole water to wine trick, (Alex please let me know when you've mastered that one) which would save me a boatload of money, this was a pretty awesome game, at least I seemed that way in the moment.  The party was great!  We ate, we drank, I cried, because my stupid head will not stop leaking, we laughed and generally had a blast. After everyone left Kim and I relaxed in the hot tub (yes, with more booze, until the bottle fell in the hot tub) and finally we all passed out.  This morning was a lethargic one for all of us, but luckily Kim makes amazing sausage gravy for biscuits and gravy, so after much coffee, even more water and a generous serving of b&g the world was once again rotating on it's appropriate axis.

After a night of debauchery I figured it would only be fitting that I next tackle gluttony, so I recruited my friend Lara to help me haul a carload of crap that I'd previously purged from my closet to ARC. Once we dropped of the four boxes of clothes, two boxes of housewares and a giant stack of bedding I decided that I was in a purge mood and since I had a willing sidekick it would be the appropriate time to purge my closet.  The closet purge resulted in two more boxes of clothes to donate, a nearly full closet rack of clothes to sell at a consignment shop and an expurgation of 19 pairs of shoes and 12 handbags.  I know - stop the damn bus - Ronda is getting rid of purses and shoes?  Clearly this is not a thing that happens often.  This was, however, truly a gluttony purge.  I'm not sure why I even had much of that crap and I promise you I haven't worn it in a very long time, but don't you worry your pretty little heads about me I still have more than a dozen purses and at least 40 pairs of shoes.  Once again, all is right with the world!

I'm not going to bore you here with a lot of details about the oldies other than to lament that they did not go into assisted living, rather they are once again as home.  She is not coping with her son's death well at all and as a result seems to want me to be her new super-best friend (I trust that you all remember the puppies, homeless Vietnam vets and autistic children I am currently recruiting)  As for the old man, well, not much to say other than he is still really old and pretty much as crazy as always.  Rest assured I will be regaling you with plenty of tales about the old and the crazy in your coffee future.

In honor of the chinese food Christmas dinner enjoyed in my all time favorite movie, A Christmas Story, (I know that is obvious to those of you who have had the pleasure of witnessing my bordello curtains and year-round leg lamp display) I had to share one very humorous Vegas Christmas experience.  It was Sunday night, not terribly late (oh, who I am kidding, it was 8:30, I was going up to my room to read my book and go to bed at 8:30.  That's how I start my new super, sexy single life in Vegas, in bed, alone at 8:30 - no judging)  as I get into the elevator to return to my room on the 10th floor, there was a cute, but ancient, little Asian woman struggling to work the elevator.  She kept pressing her floor (7) then would immediately press the "lobby" button again.  After a couple of attempts with her at the controls and the elevator not moving, I stepped in front of her, pressed the 7 then the 10 and voila, the doors close and the elevator began to move.  To this amazing act, she responded with something that sounded like this....  "Ooooohaaa, ju hassa prass tuuuuuu buttom to maasck eleeevatoo goes uuuup"  That night I had visions of frail little Asian women, not sugar plum fairies, dancing in my head.  As a bonus, if this whole unemployed widow gig doesn't work out I now realize that I have some mad elevator skills, so maybe I can become a doorman.  BOOM! 😜

Vegas was good, but it's not my thing.  The casinos give me sensory overload.  They are too loud, to blingy and too crowded for me to enjoy (oh and I would rather buy purses and shoes than donate money to slot machines) but I will admit that it was very nice to have a distraction and I can truly say that Christmas Day came and went pretty much like any other day without even a hint of nostalgia. (Wahoo my avoidance strategy is working!)  The other highlights from the trip are pretty much typical Vegas fare.  There were an obscene number of very poor fashion choices, many of them verging on criminal, way too many near misses with strollers and/or camera wielding Asians/Indians, an overabundance of dumb bitches taking selfies, including at least half a dozen with selfie-sticks, a very short-lived streak of beginners luck at the blackjack table (sidebar: I did leave Vegas $150 up!) and one incredibly fun, but very expensive night in a dueling piano bar with my friend Kim.

This next week is going to be a tough one for me.  I have to finalize the details for the memorial service, coordinate activities with the funeral home, meet with the lawyer to initiate the probate case, clean my house in preparation for the friends and family that will be in town next weekend, deal with the phone calls from my idiot family members, attempt to maintain an arms-length from Ray's grieving mother to maintain the last shred of my sanity and continue to search for what my new normal is going to look like.  I appreciate the calls, cards, texts and emails and my apologies for not acknowledging them all individually.   As always I appreciate you tolerating my therapy rants.  I am looking forward to experiencing and sharing some much more entertaining coffee topics than death and old people, but until that happens thanks for tolerating this....

Until next time....

XOXO - R

Squares and circles and letters, oh my...

Happy FRIDAY!!!!!   It's been another riveting (yawn) week at the factory.  I really do feel like I'm working pretty hard for a person that only has SIX more Mondays!  Wahoo!  I'll be sure to report back about how hard I am working when there are only THREE more Mondays.  

I've actually had a pretty great week.  I took last Friday off and the relaxation from that one day out of the office and away from home stayed with me throughout the weekend.  I even SLEPT!  Seriously, I haven't slept more than four hours straight in months, last Friday, I slept for more than seven hours and I'm not sure I even moved.  (I realized how truly pathetic it is to be spending this much time writing about sleep, but damn that felt good)  Then Monday night I had a fabulous night with my Bunco babes enjoying beers and laughs are Zwei Brewing.  In true-Ronda fashion, even with all of this fabulous, well-rested pleasure, I managed to find a few rantable moments to share with all of you.  Once again, You're Welcome!

Full disclosure, the person I am talking about does NOT work for my company, seriously, I swear it was a woman in the same building as me, but she really is not part of the Ag-circus.  

On a very blustery Tuesday as I was returning to the office from a crazy-hard, lunchtime spin class, I shared the elevator with a woman that works on my floor.  (YES, I know my fat-ass should be taking the stairs, but that spin class was so hard that my legs were still shaking at 4:00, so rather than hauling my wobbly butt up three flights, I opted for the elevator.  No judging!)  Typically, the topic of the day was the wind, because it was ridiculous, but I was relieved that she decided to complain about traffic instead.  She was lamenting that she almost got killed turning left out of our parking lot when she left for lunch.  It really is a terrible corner, the road curves and cars are going really fast,  I told her that when it's really busy I just turn right and go back to the roundabout and make a U-turn.  She had a very puzzled look and said "how do you make a U-turn in a roundabout?"  You all know how superb I am with my poker face, to which she responded, "oh, based on that look, I'm guessing that was a dumb question."  As is customary in polite conversation (HA!) I responded to her questions with a question.  I asked her "what kind of car do you drive?  I mean detailed description, I want make, model, year, license plate, color, all of it?"  Another puzzled look crossed her face to which I responded with "I need to know what car I need to avoid on the road."  The poor thing really did not know understand what was so ridiculously stupid about her question and I give her props for having the courage to ask, the clearly very judgemental bitch in front of her, to explain.  She actually said, "seriously, I wouldn't have a clue how to make a U-turn in a roundabout."   It will surprise exactly no one that my explanation included a lot of overly-exaggerated hand gestures which clearly can't be replicated here, but I trust that you can all imagine how wildly I was gesticulating during my rendition of roundabout etiquette. 

Here's a summary (mentally insert additional hand gestures as you see fit, you probably won't be too far off) of how I explained how one might successfully make a U-turn in a roundabout.  I asked her "What shape is a roundabout?"  Puzzled look - I assured her that is was not a trick question and gestured the shape of a roundabout.  Then I asked "what shape is a U?" while once again drawing a U in the air.  Then I said if you need to make a U-turn in a roundabout you just continue around almost to a full-circle, but not quite, hence making a U.  Sidebar: It's humorous to me to realize how slowly I speak when delivering such a condescending tirade.  Finally, the lightbulb came on in her poor, sweet, adorable little 20-something head and she giggled and told me that she understood why I had such a horrified look on my face.  She ended the conversation by telling me that she would not tell me what she drove and that I would just have to find out for myself.  HA!  I think I might have a little protege on my hands, if I can just keep her from asking stupid questions.

I also have riveting tales about face wands, tattoos and abductions to share, but sadly I have to stop doing this and go start the nonsense that actually pays my bills....

Until next time....

XOXO

Rocks unturned, words unspoken....

Hello my lovelies,

I am thrilled to be wrapping up another week, well, sort of, it sounds like I am going to be working most of this weekend on a huge project that is scheduled, but not even close to ready, to go live next weekend.  Oh joy!

It's been another lively week, but sadly this week I've been far more impressed with the Tata's than I have with the actual employees.  I know that as roll-off dates get closer the motivation continues to diminish, but this week really has felt more like an adult day care center than an office.  I am trying so desperately to remain positive and I am failing SO often at managing to do that, but I really am trying to hold my tongue.  I thought I'd share with you a few things that I WANTED to say, but that I refrained from saying.  Full disclosure, it hurt, bad.......

1. So, if you decide to stop being a dumb bitch, what do you think you will do in your next career.  (big smile)
2. WOW, they met you and they actually hired you? (spoiler alert that was Ms. Shay)
3. Wait, she's pregnant? I thought she was a lesbian (OK I did actually say that in my out loud voice, but not to the chick that is knocked-up)  FWIW, I do realize that lesbians can get pregnant, I mostly was just surprised that ANYONE would actually sleep with that horrible troll.  (shocking as it may seem, NOT Ms. Shay)
4. That was a really lovely little mantrum (Totally made up word for a grown-ass man throwing a temper tantrum) now will you shut the fuck up and do the job that you are actually being paid to do!
5. Problems?  Bitch Please!  You think you got problems?  Buckle up, cuz we's bouts ta go for a ride......
6. Yay, I see you got dressed all by yourself again.  Maybe you should buy a mirror to hang in your hovel, so you can see how trampy you look before you leave the house.
7. Do you realize just because there are 28 shades of eye-shadow in that new pallette you bought a Wal-Mart, they do NOT intend for you to wear ALL of them at the same time.  (Full disclosure, also Ms. Shay)

I also learned a very valuable lessons that I am going to share with all of you.  Just consider this a little public service announcement, Ronda-style... 

When considering the topic of drinking in the morning (FWIW - I'm sooooo NOT opposed to this) the distinction of when you add alcohol makes all the difference.  If you start with alcohol, rum, gin, vodka, whatever, then it is clearly a drink, BUT if you start with fruit and add alcohol, you know to thin it out, then it is a fruit smoothie and is TOTALLY breakfast worthy!

Mind Blown, right!  You're Welcome!

Until next time.....

XOXO

Other people's problems

As I'm sure you remember from previous coffees and or whining conversations with me things at work are generally a mess.  We will soon be receiving the official announcement about the selected outsource partner and the timelines for transition (aka how soon I am going to be out of a job).  As the announcement date gets closer the actual productivity output continues to drop precipitously.  A few weeks ago there were a number of internal positions posted and like an idiot I applied.  After much consideration (read agonizing hours of endless chatter in my stupid head) I decided to withdraw myself from consideration for one of the roles and was rejected for the other.  Since then I've been encouraged to apply for another of the internal roles.  I was tempted to say no, but then I took a step back and decided that the pay is pretty darn good, the health insurance benefits are fantastic and the commute is a breeze, so I applied.  I HATE that I am now that dorky little kid on the playground jumping up and down like a damn fool shouting "pick me, pick me" but that's pretty much what this is at this point.  

Late this week, my boss, who is also the hiring manager and the one that encouraged me to apply, told me that our CIO is now questioning my"qualifications" for that final role.  I will admit that there is a part of the role that I do not have a lot of expertise in, fortunately, that's the part that is easy to learn.  The majority of the job requires being able to pull people together to drive decisions and being "a bit of a bulldog" with the new vendor as necessary.  WHAT?  Decisions -- check!  I LOVE making decisions.  Bulldog -- hhmmmm I typically get referred to as a pitbull rather than a bulldog, but either way you all know that if the role requires someone to play the bossy bitch card, I've got that card at the ready.  Needless to say I am annoyed that the CIO is questioning my qualifications.  Seems like a woman in charge of eliminating 100+ jobs might have a few other things to worry about aside from my experience with web applications.  Either way, I am anticipating getting the rejection for that job next week and will need to focus on my job search in earnest.  

Rather than getting in my own head and generally making myself crazy, I've decided to focus on other people's problems to make me feel less like a loser in my own pathetic life.  Please know that any resemblance to any recipient of this coffee is purely coincidental (not really) and shared with love (that's totally true)!

Here are a few "Other people problems" that I've been graced with recently......

Decisions, decisions....

While attending her child's orchestra performance I had a friend who arrived a few minutes late and was forced to make the painstaking decision of which ex-husband to sit beside.  It's not like she's been married to all of the men in the audience a few of them actually had wives with them, but she did have a few options and lucky for her all of them had an empty seat available.  

Solution:

I am going to buy her a portable chair that she can schlep around with her, so she avoid this awkward situation in the future.  Not sure she really needs a walker just yet, but that rolling walker/chair thing could really help in these situations.

Swinging anyone......

Recently my incredibly beautiful and single friend went on a date with a very good-looking man that she knew only casually.  After a long diatribe on politics and how she is expected to vote in November, Mr. Very-good-looking-until-he-opens-his-damn-mouth decided to inform my friend that he is a swinger, but his WIFE is not. 

Solution

To help her and all of my single friends avoid this situation in the future I am going to setup a website called "swingingpigs.com" and will make sure this louse gets registered there.  See Ms. CIO fancy-pants, girl gots some web skilllzzzzz!

Allowance increase.....

What is the proper protocol when ones child (who's in college) insists that he be compensated for helping his brother (who's out of college already)?
Solution
Buy them both one-way bus tickets in opposite directions at least two-time zones away from your current residence.  How you like that allowance now son?
 

Hair-club for black women

After a few very unfortunate attempts at DIY hair color Ms. Shay is now nearly bald.  She knows that she is going to need to be interviewing for jobs very soon and there are large patches of hair missing from the sides and back of her head.  How does she address this issue?  By asking yours truly for advise.  

Solution

Uhhhhmmmmm, yeah, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm  Decapitation seems a bit harsh, a wig (especially one that she would pick) would not be a viable option, so I suggested (actually, in my out loud voice I said this) "shave your head and embrace the gray when it starts to grow back"

Limitations, schmitations........

I seem to attract people that aren't necessarily good at expecting their physical limitations.  They decide to do things like hike a vertical mile (with a gimp foot) or sign-up for a damn 500-mile bike ride then end up suffering or agonizing about these stupid decisions.

Solution

Maybe this moron should get an ex or two or become a swinger or pop out a few kids just to have something else to focus on........

Until next time....

XOXO

An Ode to Mom

Earlier this week I heard a statistic, from a very reliable source (it was a morning radio show ) that 71% of moms said that the ideal Mother's Day gift would be a day away from the kids.  FWIW - I suspect that the real number is much higher, but many of the moms were those polite, sweet, doting women that were embarrassed to be that honest.  I also heard a radio commercial for a jewelry store touting that Mother's Day isn't only for Mothers, but also for wives.  Ridiculous, but I digress!   Yesterday I had to stop by Target (I needed to buy razors so I could shave my legs because I had an appointment with my new uber-hot physical therapist today)  so I was able to witness first hand the hoards of men in the card aisle.  Really?  Guys, I think you can probably find a little more creative way to thank your wife for pushing a child or two out of her hoohaw than a stupid Hallmark card.  The whole card aisle scene was a silly, but I got my razors (and a few other things because damn you Target I can't leave without dropping $100) and I picked a place in line behind one of those hapless chaps.  He bought a card.  JUST a card.  It cost $7.63!  WTF!  I almost passed out!  I wanted so badly to pull him aside and let him know that his wife can read on the back of the card how much he paid and when she sees that his stupid ass paid almost $8 for a f*ing card she'd going to beat him and he will probably be sleeping on the couch... for a month!    I pay for my items and as I was walking out I pass a register where father-of-the-year guy was talking, very loudly, about how every year for the last 15-years he's bought his wife a card and a box of candy (he had those nasty Ferrero Rocher things - YUCK) and his kids always buy her flowers for her garden.  Wow - BIG creativity points for buying the same crappy shit year after year!  She's one lucky gal!  After this I was happy to retreat to my car and escape this nonsense, but it occurred to me that should probably capitalize on this opportunity and start a service to help these pathetic creatures purchase gifts that might actually result in them getting laid!  Not sure what I would call that business, but I think it's a fabulous idea!

While I am building my business plan to rescue men and sex lives I thought I would offer a bit of free advice to the dads that share my coffee.  Here are a few things that your wife and the mother of your children, might actually want for Mother's Day.

1. A Spa day - 71% of moms want a day away from the kids.  I love spas because they NEVER have kids running around in them and seriously it's a gift certificate.  It's easy, she's relaxed and voila! 
2. A night in a hotel - alone!  I know you love your wife and that she loves you back, at least most of the time, but seriously we ALL need some time away, so a night in a hotel by herself (at least as far as you know) where she can read a book or watch a movie and order room service would be fabulous.  
3. A vacation - alone!  Depending how raucous your kids are this may be 2-days to 2-weeks.  
4. A Maid service - one time or ongoing. FYI - Ongoing is REQUIRED if you have male children because seriously there are not enough damn Cheerios on the planet to help you men aim!
5. Jewelry - if you wife is into jewelry then this might be an option, but tacky, cheap jewelry is never the right option
6. A very nice dinner out - without the kids!
7. A very nice meal in as long as she doesn't have to cook or clean and if the dinner is served with copious quantities of very good wine.  NOTE: this is really only an option if the kids are actually well-behaved.  If you happen to have produced a few little devil spawns this option is clearly on the DON'T list

Here are a few things your wife does NOT want for Mother's day.

1. A bouquet of flowers
2. A box of crappy candy
3. A homemade anything crafted by anyone over the age of 4
4. Attitude from her mouthy teenagers
5. Attitude from her obnoxious husband
6. That annoying hard-on back poke thing.  That technique does not and will not "get us in the mood" and by the way this is not just a Mother's day thing - women don't want that, EVER!
7. Lingerie or anything from Victoria's Secret
8. A trip to the petting zoo (or any other zoo) as a family
9. A trip to an amusement park with the family (caveat, if you married a people watcher this might be an option because those places offer freaks-o-plenty, but an amusement park won't get you any nookie on Mother's Day... or ever!)
10. A f*ing $8 card

I hope I was able to save you all from making and unfortunate Mother's day purchases.  You're Welcome!  

Until next time...

XOXO

BTW - earlier this week I saw that O-Magazine had an article titled "How to Dress-Up Sweatpants"  YOU'RE DEAD TO ME OPRAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Potlucks and Root Canals! Oh, the holiday joy....

I hope this finds you all well.  Many of you will think I am out of my mind over this one (or perhaps you've all known that for years).  Ms. Shay, I trust you all remember being regaled with stories about Ms. Shay wants to get everyone (or actually it appears only the people that sit near her or that she works directly with, but I digress) in the holiday spirit, so she purchased and erected two miniature Christmas trees and made centerpieces for all of the conference room tables in our building (I will give her props they are cute, entirely unnecessary in my opinion, but nicely done).  Additionally, she bought cards and gifts for everyone on the team.  (Note: I did not return the favor largely because I am an ass, but also because.... nope, really just because I am an ass and I was too lazy to go shop for an obligatory cheap gift that I didn't really want to give.)  But the kicker in all of it is the office potluck that she arranged for everyone in our building and a handful of people that she works with in two of the other buildings.  All told there were about 50 people invited to this soiree.  Don't get me wrong I love to cook (clearly from the size of my ass I also LOVE to eat) and I love to entertain.  Inviting people over for dinner and drinks is fantastic, but I absolutely detest potlucks.  HATE HATE HATE them! 

Lucky for all of you there is some childhood trauma involved in my hatred of potlucks, which ironically, is also why (OK potlucks are only one small part of this one) I possess such staunch anti-church views.  As a kid growing up poor and in a small town I was forced to endure what feels like hundreds of church potlucks.  All of them offering a cornucopia of crock-pots containing a brown mushy pseudo-meat substance, the obligatory cocktail wieners (HA! it's not everyday you can work obligatory and wiener into the same sentence) in nasty-ass barbecue sauce, a few thousand dried out dinner rolls which were likely too hard to even be used for hockey pucks, but the piece-de-resistance had to be the completely unnatural and terrifyingly bright jello salad.  (I swear I just threw up a little typing that.)  I was also raised by a mother who expected us to "try everything" but also to clean our plates, so not only did I have to attend these events, but I had to actually eat the food (I did get much more creative in finding ways to not eat there it as I got older).  I remember one church potluck where all the kids got to go outside to play while I sat there crying because I didn't want to eat that food. Thank GOD for therapy helping me deal with all of this fun 35 years later!

Now I realize that work potlucks are slightly different.  Now you get meatballs in various kinds of sauce instead of just cocktail wieners and there are fewer crock-pots of brown mush, but there are a lot more items that have to be microwaved to reheat them, so you get a variety of lukewarm pasta-esque dishes (yeah, I totally made up that word because some of that shit isn't easily recognizable as pasta, so I am just guessing that's what it contains).  The one redeeming quality in work potlucks is that there are also a few hundred varieties of chips or crackers and dips, so there is at least something that I COULD eat without remaining at the table for three hours crying about not wanting to eat that food.  

Lucky for me I found out in late-November that I was likely going to need a root canal and when I went back to the dentist last week he confirmed that I do indeed need to proceed with that.  In an attempt to continue hiding these repressed childhood memories from the majority of my co-workers I scheduled a root canal the same day as the potluck.  To get out of this one I just have to stop by the store and buy some jello salad to contribute (for real, that might actually happen because I SUCK as a human being) but then just when they start firing up those microwaves to reheat the food substance formerly known as pasta I will have to leave to drive to the Endodontist.  Shucks!  Maybe next year I can participate in the fun, unless I happen to need a colonoscopy!  

Until next time......

XOXO