My New Year's Resolutions

Here's a list of crap I hope to accomplish when this suck ass year ends. I'll even actually attempt to accomplish most, if not, all of them.

1. Stop Being a Doormat. Yes, I'm too nice to people which explains the deadbeat ex-husbands and lying-ass landlords. Starting tomorrow, unless you are friends, a significant other, and/or family, you can kiss my ass. I'll just assume you're lying to me so that if you aren't, I'll be pleasantly surprised.
2. Lose Some of My Fat Self. I'm topping the scales out at 143 pounds now, up from a svelte 125 from Spring. I'm not even digging the big hooties any more 'cause they just make my back hurt. Goal is to get down to say, 130 or so.
3. Get Into My Job. Sure, it can be downright boring but I do get paid well.
4. Start my MPH program. That would be a Master's in Public Health which I start on Monday. This is so I can parlay what I now do into a job in the health law arena.
5. Find New Hobbies. Time for me to start doing stuff I've always wanted to do. Like travel and maybe a cooking class or wine tasting.
6. Start a budget. Don't laugh. I mean it.
7. Be a better parent. This includes homeschooling both of my offspring.

So Long To A Screwed Up Year

I wish I could say that the close of 2008 would bring an end to the craziness, stupidity, and general wrongness of the year, but I'm afraid that it won't. How wonderful is that? What am I talking about?

1. Iran nears completion of its nuclear program. Seriously, is the world going just sit around and talk while chimpanzees figure out how to operate a flamethrower?

2. Michigan Football has its worst season in my living memory. Ok, I joke with my Buckeye boss about us being allowed a rebuilding year once every ten or fifteen years, but we didn't even make it to a consolation bowl game, and Michigan State did. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

3. The Democrats wreck the economy... by demanding banks give mortgages to people who can possibly pay them back, refuse to let us exploit our own oil resources as gas nears $5.00 a gallon, their candidate for President is remains a cypher even after his nomination, and they win the White House, The House, and The Senate? It's true. We have become an Idiocracy, and we have the government we deserve.

4. Hollyweird Continues to Crank Out Hate America First Movies...like 'Stop Loss', 'War Inc.', and other stinkers that insinuate or outright claim that WE are the bad guys and savages in the world, and then is surprised when they tank at the box office. Memo to the studio heads: We want to be entertained, not preached at by a bunch of clueless over sized egos who are insulated from the real world by their exorbitant salaries. You don't know dick about politics, the economy or reality. You are actors. If you were capable of understanding such things, you'd have real jobs. Now go make a good movie.

5. The GOP Ran A Woman For VP...and the party of inclusion, equal rights, and "making America live up to its promises" immediately savaged her with unfounded attacks on her character and belittled her executive experience, despite the fact that it exceeded that of the Dem's entire ticket.

6. A Republican President Declared It Necessary To Give Away Billions In Taxpayer Dollars...to some banks to restart credit markets stalled in the housing freefall prompted by years of Democratic thwarting of oversight over Fannie and Freddie, and as soon as the Secretary of the Treasury got the money, he didn't spend it as he said he would when he begged Congress for it in the first place. Yes, I know any one of us here in the real world outside of Washington D.C., the same world where bills have to eventually get paid, and bad behavior and crappy decisions actually have consequences could have told Congress that it would happen, but instead of taking appropriate action, Congress had hearings on even more bailouts...for the auto industry no less. And America just sat on the sidelines and watched. Where are the torches and pitchforks? Where is the tar and the feathers? Where are the politicians, quaking in their shoes and wetting their pants in fear of the populace that they continue to screw?

There is more. There is always more, but really, I can't stomach more right now. I'm gonna go hurl now.

Ten Rules for Dating My Son

Someone on the local Craigslist did one about dating their daughter which was quite humorous so I thought I'd throw out some rules of my own.

1. Dress Appropriately in my Presence. I am the Queen of my house. Therefore you will not be presented to me dressed like a pole dancer. Wear your best church clothes. If you don't know what those are, dress the opposite of Paris Hilton.

2. No Piercings. If anything other than your ears are pierced, I had better not see it. Yes, I know why people pierce their tongues and it has nothing to do with speech improvement. If you're some skanasarous with piercings everywhere, I will tell my son to drop you off where he found you. Oh and he'll listen otherwise he'll get cut out of the will. I have no problem leaving everything to some obscure charity.

3. Abortion, Adoption or Child Support. Should you think that getting knocked up is a trip on the gravy train, I have no problem recommending any of the three to my idiotic child. Trust me when I say that paying your dumb ass child support for 18 years is far better than him marrying you and supporting you forever. I recommend getting married (the first time) at 30. By then, both parties should have their heads out of their asses.

4. I Will Do a Background Check. That's right, Sunshine, I'll talk to everyone who ever knew you from the time your wore Huggies until now. If I don't get a, "She's a candidate for sainthood," report, you are out the door. Again, he'll listen 'cause poverty sucks.

5. I Am Not Your Friend. Do not call me by my first name. Do not say, "Yeah...um...no...um..." Ma'am is not required but will earn you extra points. Consider me the Mama Bear protecting her cubs. Mama bears are not to be trifle with lest we rip you from limb to limb. Approach us with caution and respect and no one loses an arm.

6. Dumb Does Not Get You Anywhere. I'm not saying my sons need to date rocket scientists but if you know more about, "The Bachelor," "American Idol," and "Oprah," than you do current events, then we have a problem. Yes, I will quiz you. I will audition you and make Simon Cowell look like Mary Poppins. I will not tolerate a dumb bimbo no matter how cute she looks. Cute wears off, stupidity lasts forever.

7. Your Parents Better Impress Me. Oh they don't need to be rich or snobs but if they have a single wide they're real proud of then I'm thinking you are out of your league. Seriously, one of the best quotes out of Gone With the Wind was when Scarlet was whining about not marrying Ashley and her dad was telling her that it was a good thing he wasn't marrying her. Said Pa O'Hara, "Like must marry like or there will be no happiness." 'Tis true. My sons are spoiled rotten little prima donas. Their idea of roughing it is a 3 star hotel. That whole, "girl from the wrong side of the tracks," worked in Pretty in Pink. However, it's highly unlikely here.

8. Have Some Ambition. No, getting married and having a passel of kids while my son works his butt off all day is not what I'm talking about. You'll want a career. You'll want to do something with your life other than breed. I don't care if you're an accountant, IT guru, or a classical pianist but you better have a piece of paper from a 4 year college with your name on it.

9. Don't Be a Bitch. That's my job and I'm not giving it up. Do not nag my son or dictate what clothes he should wear. No, I'm not buying him Abercrombie clothes. Get over it. Do not boss him around. You haven't earned that right and if I see you doing it, you're likely to get a swift kick in the ass for your effort.

10. I Don't Have to Consent to the Wedding. But I can make it the worst event in the history of weddings if you piss me off. If you are lucky enough to snare my son into marrying you, I better have some input. Otherwise, things could suddenly start happening. Things like your dress order being cancelled or the cake getting dropped or the invitations not getting mailed....you know, STUFF.

The Year That Was: 2008

Am I the only one who's glad this suck-ass year is almost over? Here's a recap of how my 2008 went:

January: Went to Key West with the kids, Spud, my sister and her friend. Thought all was well. Spud starts to take more control of the pub.

February: Spud takes over all my roles at the pub. He then starts telling me how unhappy he is and how I'm a loser with no direction in my life. This was after I planned the Mardi Gras party for the pub which, as far as I know, is still the biggest money-maker that place has ever had. This would be the Mardi Gras party that he didn't want to do for fear it would be a bust.

March: Spud walks on the 24th. No goodbye, no "Go screw yourself," nada. Just a, "I can't do this anymore." This was a week after the sorriest trip to a theme park ever where he refused to ride any rides and just sat next to me on a bench for 5 hours while ogling everything with a bustline.

April: I gave the idiot until the first of April to get his head out of his ass and come home. He didn't so on the 2nd I filed for divorce. This led him to tell everyone that I was the one who ended the marriage. I'm thinking that leaving me for a 27 year old bimbo you met at the pub constitutes ending a marriage. I still have the fateful words of what he told one of his friends ringing in my ears, "You know who I'm fucking and it ain't your wife."

May: Spud discovers that I'm dissing him on Folly and decides to bitch to his lawyer like a 4 year old girl. I get chastised by my lawyer and Folly goes down in flames. Go visit my sister at her farm in Tennessee.

June: Still haggling with Spud over the decree. I want my share of the pub. He says over his dead body. I'm thinking that's a fair trade.

July: Discover Spud's profile on Match.com which he later denies ever having. Of course, I printed it out. What a load of crap that was. Meanwhile, I went out with one of the biggest losers I've ever met that I didn't marry. It took days of ignoring his crazy ass behavior ("Are you any happier today than you were yesterday?") for him to stop. Then I met my current beau who is a decent, upstanding individual. This makes me wonder what he sees in me.

August: On the 12th, Spud is officially my ex-husband. I gave him the house. He's supposed to give me $15k for my share of the pub. As of today, still haven't received a dime of that. First date with my current beau. Moved out of the marital home and into a rent house which I got screwed on.

September: Beau's birthday. Bought him an awesome Civil War print which is currently hanging in his living room. Decided to move from the rent house after I had to tell the process server on a Sunday morning that the landlord's wife moved with him to North Carolina. She is being sued. He proceeds to act like an ass and threatens to sue me over the lease. Dillweed.

October: Had to put in a $300 battery in the Jaguar. Moved to another rent house. Discovered the fine art of plumbing after having repaired the toilet in the master bathroom. Discovered I got screwed on this deal as well. Vowed to never live in another rent house. Marital home goes into foreclosure after Spud doesn't offer a deed in lieu as required by the decree. Broke ass broke.

November: Obama is elected and I am sad. Hoping I don't get laid off. Boss is muy unhappy with me over billing. Thanksgiving with Beau's parents is not the disaster I had feared. Still broke ass broke.

December: Christmas is muy expensive. Go to an hourly rate instead of salary thanks to my boss. Still broke ass broke. Decide to move after to IRS agents come to the door looking for my landlord. Landlord claims it had only to do with a missing form from a couple of years ago. I say bullshit. Found a house to purchase on the 4th hole of a golf course. Got my fingers crossed but mortgage guy says even with the foreclosure it shouldn't be a problem since Spud got the house.

Here's to a better year in 2009.

Post-Christmas Fun

Well I hope everyone had a Joyous Noel. For the first time in years, I had a holiday that didn't involve bitching, whining or fights over who got the better toy. And the kids behaved too. While out shopping, I saw many an Obama sticker with "hope" and "change" on them which led me, in the middle of the night 'cause I couldn't sleep, to come up with a game. Here it is:

• Use the words "hope" and "change" in a sentence that has nothing to do with Obama. The more random, the better.
• Example: "I hope that dumb bitch at the drive through remembers my change." or "I hope you brought a change of underwear."

Yeah, it's lame but it's the holidays and I'm stressed out so cut me some slack. The goal is to show just how vague those two words are and that they can be used for anything.

Wal-Mart Tree Part 2

Not having learned my lesson on the crap ass fake tree, the boyfriend and I went to Wal-Mart yet again only this time we bought a real tree. How could a real tree go wrong? Well trust me to pick out the only tree with a crooked base. Despite the boyfriend sawing off part of it, it still looks like this:

In case you can't tell, it's listing to the left like a drunk sailor in Times Square. The ONLY reason it is even upright is a strategically placed book underneath the tree stand. BTW, the crap ass fake tree I returned? Back on the shelf with all the other fake trees.

"Why No, Mr. IRS Agent, My Landlord ISN'T Here."

So I was stuck at home for two days with the offspring due to all the ice we had everywhere. If you've never seen Okies drive on ice, picture elephants ice-skating. Anyway, I'm sitting in my home office yesterday when a truck pulls up in front of the house. Out comes a big black guy who looks like Refrigerator Perry and a middle-aged white lady. I thought, "Great, freakin' Jehovahs." For a moment I thought about not answering the door. Then I saw his briefcase and realized that Jehovahs don't carry briefcases.

They ring the doorbell and I answer it. Keep in mind, it's 19 degrees and the streets are covered with ice. Fridge says, "I'm Joe Friday with the Internal Revenue Service. I'm looking for Bob Taxfraud." I said, "Bob Taxfraud is my landlord. He moved to Virginia. You wanna come in, it's cold." I said that last bit 'cause I know better than to piss off the feds. Besides, they're not coming out in 19 degree weather to discuss old Bob's 1099. He's in deep sh*t. Everyone knows that if you owe them a couple of grand, they send you letters forever. They only pay you a visit if you're on your way to Club Fed.

Fridge and his side kick come in and he starts asking me questions like, "When did you move in? Do you have his phone number?" I didn't have his number but I did have his address which I gave him. Then I said, "I know you probably can't tell me but does this have anything to do with the house?" He said, "I can't discuss it." Me: "Oh. I just wanted to know if I'm going to be homeless for the holidays." The lady laughed but the Fridge didn't. He gave me his card and said to let him know if I got Bob's number.

Last night I sent Bob and email. Bob calls me, chitchats about the weather then proceeds to give me the lamest ass excuses I've ever heard. Excuse 1: "Maybe it was a joke." Uh, no Bob, the feds have no sense of humor. Excuse 2: "Maybe their after my former tenant. He never paid taxes." Uh, no Bob, they asked for YOU so I think you never paid taxes. He asked for Joe Friday's number and I gave it to him. Yeah, right, like he's going to call.

Anyway, first thing this morning I called Joe Friday and left him a message with my landlord's phone number. Then I shot an email about the visit to a colleague at the office who is a CPA as well as a lawyer. I said, "What does it mean when two revenue agents come looking for your landlord?" Her response, "It means it's time to move 'cause chances are he's committed fraud or something."

So, I've decided to start from scratch and move back to my old house that I actually still technically own. I hate moving. I hate Bob.

I'm Freezing My A** Off Without a Christmas Tree

It's 17 degrees right now. Yes, 17 degrees. That's up from the low of 16 on its way to a balmy 22 for the afternoon high. There's a 1/4 inch of ice covering everything which means I didn't go to work today. My little Jaguar wouldn't make it out of the driveway much less the neighborhood. Of course, everyone else is at work. Then again, everyone else has a Lexus/Lincoln SUV.

So what does not having a Christmas tree have to do with freezing my a** off? Well, yesterday it was 75 degrees. I went to Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart. I went to Wal-Mart to buy, among other things, a Christmas tree. I found one that looked great on the box. 7.5 feet and only 3 sections. So I snagged it and some other stuff.

When I got home with my haul, I moved stuff out of the way in the designated Christmas tree spot and opened the box. I realized something was amiss when I got a whiff of stale cigarette smoke. Then I started taking the tree out. "3 Easy Sections," suddenly became a thousand individual branches with a center stand that you hook them to.

Oh, it only took me a second to figure out what happened. Some deadbeat loser bought the real tree then boxed up their old piece of crap tree, took it back to Wal-Mart and got money for their piece of crap tree. Kudos for their ingenuity and complete lack of moral character. Kudos also to the Wal-mart employees in the returns/exchanges section who didn't even bother to check the box.

While I was getting my return sticker from the mentally-handicapped employee at the front of the door, I was on the phone to my sister explaining this whole debacle. It took Scooter a couple of minutes to figure out how to get the sticker out. Meanwhile, the over-dressed old bitch behind me says, "Is something wrong?" Scooter, "No." Bitch, "Oh I thought you were waiting for her to get off the phone." WTF? I wasn't holding up the parade, it was the retard employee. Granted, at least HE has a job unlike the old bitch who I'm probably supporting via Social Security.

Again, I f*&king hate Wal-Mart.

Ho, Ho, Freakin' Ho

I am in a SNIT. Why? (Oh, like you give a rat's ass). Hmmm, get a call from the sperm donor aka my babies' daddy this morning about the older one. Apparently, the older one has chosen to act like a 4 year old this weekend. He wanted to know what to do. Hell, I figured a guy with 6 kids would know more about child rearing than I would. I said I didn't know 'cause I didn't want to tell him the truth which is, "He hates your guts and I made him go."

Then I made the mistake of going to Walmart. At Christmas time. I then realized why I hate shopping and Walmart. My older son (the one who is acting up) wants a dog. So I went to Petco (x3) and Petsmart looking for a dog to adopt. I finally found one then I discovered I need a HOME VISIT by the FOSTER PARENT. Jeez, it's not a kid.

Then I talked to the significant other who was in snit (being on duty all weekend) and proceeded to criticize the dog idea as well as the kids latest misery at school. The older one wants to be home-schooled. So apparently I'm incapable of making a proper decision.

Friday's What the Hamster?

Well other than Chicago corruption, an auto bailout and finding bones that may belong to Caylee Anthony, it's been a slow news week. Speaking of which:

1. For Sale: 1 Senate Seat, Slightly Used. Corruption in Chicago? Say it ain't so, Joe. Corruption is to Chicago is like clam chowder is to Boston. The Illinois governor and his trailer park wife decided to make some cash off of the seat formerly held by Barack Obama. Unfortunately, he was being monitored by the feds. Makes you wonder how Obama got that seat to begin with.

2. Brother Can You Spare a Dime, Part II. Since the government has bailed everyone else, the big 3 automakers decided to ask for their share. The House said, "Sure, get in line." The Senate said, "Go screw yourself." Ever get the idea that the Senate is the older, smarter big brother while the House is the slightly retarded younger brother?

3. Dem Bones. Unfortunately for uber-mom of the year candidate, Casey Anthony, it would appear she did not do a good enough job hiding the body of her 2 year old daughter. A meter reader stumbled upon the skeletal remains of a small child in a plastic bag not too far from her parents house. DNA results are pending but that would be like one in a million coincidence. What kind of sick bitch stuffs her baby into a plastic bag and just dumps her in the woods?

4. OU is going to the Big Game. I can't go 'cause tickets are $580 each. EACH. What the hamster? That's more than my car payment.

5. Creepy Story of the Week. What is up with Asians and robot girlfriends? I'm sorry but that's just damn bizarre. Some software engineer who is 33 and still lives with his parents built himself a girl robot. Here are some disturbing excerpts:

Aiko is still a virgin, AND NO I do not sleep with her," he writes on the Project Aiko Web site, though he admits that she "has sensors in her body including her private parts, and yes even down there."

Uh, okay.

Craigs List

I discovered Craigs List through my significant other. No, we didn't meet there. He goes there to look at furniture and other crap for sale. I go there for that, real estate, and the rant and rave section. The rant and rave section is where I have discovered that people are basically retarded. At least here. Seriously, here's the link:

http://tulsa.craigslist.org/rnr/


Apparently, people have no idea what punctuation is or how to spell. "Their" is 3rd person possessive plural while "there" is an adverb/pronoun/noun/adjective and "they're" is the contraction for "they are." So the sentence, "There a bunch of idiots over their," should be, "They're a bunch of idiots over there."

Oh and go to the "collectibles" section. That old phrase, "One man's junk is another man's treasure," applies there. For example, you can find the following items for sale:

• Harley Davidson cordless phone ($50)
• M & M Dispenser motorcycle ($25)
• Harley Davidson drive-in speaker set ($300)
• KISS Trivia game ($25)
• 1950's Kenmore hairdryer ($100)
• 1978 Orange Bowl tickets (make offer)
• Yoda hand puppet ($35)

Pretty much any old piece of crap you want to buy is available. There are also the hard luck stories of people with no money and whatnot. Of course, some of them are scams and some of them are just plain irritating. However, a few are kind of pathetic. So if you have some spare time, check out your local Craigs List. It makes you feel a whole lot better about your own life.

Mindless Quiz

Stolen from Deadman.

Your Spiritual Number is Five

You bring adventure and change to people's lives. You are willing to challenge your friends and push them to grow. Right now, your life is about figuring out where to direct your energy. If you're not careful, you can become too unreliable or flighty. You need the perfect project. You live a free form life - which allows you to be very innovative and a great problem solver. Rules, schedules, and structure practically destroy you. You have to do things your own way.

What's Your Spiritual Number?

Okay, I can go with that.

Friday's What the Hamster.

Yes, yes, it's been awhile. Anyway, it's been a slow news week. Here's some of the more "interesting" stories of the last week.

1. Seem Like a Good Idea at the Time...A would-be-bride was swept to sea in Oregon after her boyfriend decided to take her to a rock to propose. I guess a simple, "Will you marry me?" over dinner was too boring.

2. Brother Can You Spare a Dime? Obama supporters are paying the price for the election of their idol. They are now being asked to pick up the $7.5 million tab of Hilary Clinton's failed presidential campaign before her confirmation hearings begin. They're even having a "debt retirement party," hosted by that chick from Ugly Betty. Why doesn't she just ask Congress for a bailout?

3. Discrimination in the Salvation Army. I did not know that if you're an "officer" in the Salvation Army, you can only marry another officer. Apparently that is the case as Capt. Johnny Harsh (not making that up) is being tossed out of the service because he intends to marry a non-SA member. Jeez, talk about some hardasses.

4. Achmed the Lego Terrorist. Showing that people can find insult in anything, Muslims and some non-Muslims (aka "idiots") are upset over a Lego ripoff character called the White Bandit who comes compete with a bomb-belt. Tacky? Yes. Enough to spark riots in the streets? Probably. I wonder if the maker plans on a Burka Betty figure to go along with Bandit. Oh and the quote of the day comes from the spokesman for the Ramadhan Foundation, who said it is, "glorifying terrorism." Yeah, that's it. It's the TOY'S fault.

5. Dems to Obama: Step Up. Forgetting that he isn't president yet, some Democrats think that President-elect Obama needs to just take power now and get it over with. Barney Frank, Dirtbag from MA, says, "He's going to have to be more assertive than he's been. At a time of great crisis with mortgage foreclosures and autos, he says we only have one president at a time," Frank said. "I'm afraid that overstates the number of presidents we have. He's got to remedy that situation." Nice insult, douchebag, considering your boyfriend help create the crisis.

Frank also scoffed at the idea that they can work with the GOP after Obama is anointed. "Having lived with this very right wing Republican group that runs the House most of the time, the notion of trying to deal with them as if we could be post-partisan gives me post-partisan depression." Hahahaha. What a card.

"The Obama team has to step up," Sen. Christopher Dodd, chairman of the Senate Banking Committee and one of the lead negotiators, said Nov. 21 in Hartford, Conn. "In the minds of the people, this is the Obama administration. I don't think we can wait until January 20."

I'm sorry, Chris, but this is not the Obama Administration regardless of what the half-educated moonbats who elected him think. Obama is not the President and will not be the President until January 20. Period. End of story.

So we have a party that simply wants to seize power using the economic crisis as an excuse....now where have I seen that before....

Map Quest

I got the wrong maps. Yes, it's true. My boss told me that this morning. "I thought we understood," he said. What WE understood was that he wanted coastline of the state of Louisiana and not the goddamn Gulf of Mexico. "I'll go by there myself," said he in a huff. Good. Maybe they are better at mind reading. You could see him twitching in that camel hair overcoat of his as he stalked out the door.

This happened about 11-ish which is roughly two hours after I arrived to discover my office was the temperature of Nome, Alaska. One of the male attorneys very kindly turned my little space heater on which was like using a space heater to warm a Sam's (or Costco). So I'm sitting at my desk, hunched over in my wool coat like Bob Cratchit when I'm summoned into the conference room and informed of my error.

About 4-ish, Bossman calls me to tell me he's at the map place and they are getting him what he wants and oh, can I get in the car and drive half way across town to bring back the shitty maps I bought? "Sure, thing, Boss," I said. So I hop in my little car (with no gas) and drive to the crap-ass side of town to bring the maps back.

While I'm there, Bossman calls the map place to talk to me.

"Ask her if they have a schematic of a blah, blah, blah, or a blah, blah, blah, or a blah, blah, blah or a blah blah blah then call me back and let me know."

So I ask the lady, "Do you have a schematic of a blah, blah, blah, or a blah, blah, blah, or a blah, or blah, blah."

"No," she said. "We just sell maps."

So I call the Bossman and tell him that. Then he says, "Ask her if we know where we can get one." By then, she's gone back up stairs to her office so I gotta call her from the waiting room phone.

"Boss wants to know if you know where to get one," I said.

"No," she said. "Try Google."

I then went back to my office, got my crap, and went home. Oh yes, I earn my keep. He just doesn't realize it.

My Boss is a Dillweed, II

So Tuesday, the Bossman tells me I gotta go to this publishing company to get five maps. Not just any maps. Coastal maps of Louisiana. Really, really big maps. Okay, no problem. I go and order the maps (they are shipped out of Houston) at $395/each.

Yesterday morning, Bossman sends me an email: "How much were the maps?"
Me: "$395/each."
Him: "Wow! I wish you had run that by me first."

Then I get a call from him. "You should have called me first. You need to think. It will be difficult for me to recover those costs."

Of course, I had thought that he wanted the maps (for trial exhibits) at ALL COSTS. Not once did he say, "Find out how much they are. If they're more than $____, only get one." So after the phone call, I shoot him back the following email, "Sorry. I thought you wanted the maps regardless of cost. In future I will clarify." Then he calls me back and says we can allocate each map to a different case.

(Keep in mind, I'm an hourly employee which means this crap ain't billable.)

Late yesterday, I get another email from him: "Need sears case."

I put "Sears" into Westlaw and come up with 1100 cases.

I write him back, "What's the other party's name."
Him: "Don't know. Has to do with a hammer."

Okay, so now I have, "Sears," and "hammer." That drops me down to 30 cases. Finally, he tells me it has to do with a manufacturer and a retailer. By that time, it's after 5 and I'm done with him, Sears, and hammers.

I really need a new job.

My Boss is a Dillweed

I've been demoted. Oh I'm still an attorney. However, the bossman doesn't think I'm doing enough to earn $120,000/year (read: I'm not providing him BJs) so I've been reduced to an hourly employee. Now I'll be earning $60/hour (and being billed at $150/hour) and will only be paid on the actual hours I bill. And apparently, I'm also the only one who gets two weeks vacation per year.

Oh never mind that I'm the token single parent and have a chronic illness that has to be managed (gee, no labor law violations there). Of course, that just makes me more inclined to surf Craigs List and Ebay. I could job hunt but who's going to hire a 40+ female lawyer who is a single parent and has a chronic illness? Yes, even the legal profession engages in discriminatory hiring.