Just a heads up

I am a nervous drinker. I'm a little socially awkward, as I'm sure a lot of bloggers feel they are, and that's what I do when confronted with actual human interaction. I mean, if booze is present, of course. I don't stash a flask in my purse or anything. But if the occasion warrants it, and I happen to be having a glass of wine, rather than open my mouth and say something weird, I open my mouth and put wine in it. And then maybe some more, because, well, that glass is right there in my hand. And the bottle is so close! Right there by my elbow. And then I've had 3 or 4 glasses and I'm saying weird and inappropriate things anyway, but oh well, what the hell do I care? I'm shmammered.

Years ago - like, 9 of them in fact - some wonderful friends of mine got married very close to Hallowe'en. They had the theme wedding but managed to make it nottacky, as they have a fantastic group of talented and creative family & friends. At some point, because the people surrounding them were so clever and articulate, they had an open microphone. Soooo many people got up and said such beautiful things about the newlyweds. I was twitching in my seat. I had been best friends with the bride for ages, surely I should say something too?

But I hadn't lived in the area in several years, and none of their friends were MY friends. So I was nervous. And drinking. And I'm pretty sure it was an open bar, or possibly I had just been helping myself.

I got up anyway and started a rambling speech about how in the beginning it had just been my friend and me, and we had been inseparable, and everyone had referred to us as "Keelyandfriend", or "FriendandKeely", but now it was "Husbandandfriend", and um, that was okay too. I guess. But back when we had met we had bonded instantly over chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, and been inseparable, and what the fuck was my point again?

I think my friend started to get that teeth-clenchy look so I abandoned the microphone to someone else and wandered off to tell the MC how I thought if he moved his plastic stick-on devil's horn from his forehead to his chin that he'd be really popular with the girls, heh heh. My friend expressed surprise when I apologized the next day - "you were drunk?" - but she was just being her very kind self. I still cringe when I think of that wedding.

So, yeah. What the fuck was my point again?

Oh, right. See you at BlogHer.

(Don't say I didn't warn you.)

Nom nom nom, Humble Pie

Since we replaced our prehistoric TV for Christmas, yesterday there was some guy in our basement, his jeans obscenely low (I imagine - I wasn't actually here), muttering obscenities while he installed a high-def line. I'm not sure why we decided to do this, since we don't actually watch that much tv, except that by our tally it would leave us with less switching of cables when we wanted to play the Wii or watch a DVD.

(What it actually did was leave us with one MORE cable to plug and unplug. Which is fucking annoying in the pre-dawn hours when you want to switch it so the kid can watch PBS and not Ice! Age!, because Curious George is less interesting and finite and Ice! Age! just goes on and on and gawd help you if you want to get his coat on before the credits roll so you can get to work on time. And you probably just should have spent the extra 5 minutes fumbling around with RCA cables because now you have a full-blown meltdown AND you're late. Again.)


After dinner I felt chilly so I went to turn up the heat and, lo, the thermostat was completely blank. It no longer had any power, and therefore was no longer telling my furnace to keep me from freezing.

I poked a few buttons and the thermostat did not miraculously start blinking, so I plunked the toddler in front of Ice! Age! (I'm trying to fast track that Mother of the Year award) and spent 15 minute on hold with the cable company. Because surely the wiring and snipping and drilling their tech had been doing, followed by the immediate demise of my thermostat, was not coincidence?

They said they'd look into it and call me back. So I spent the next half an hour peering at the bewildering array of wires and cables that appear to be growing through my basement. This house used to be two obviously very small suites and there are phone cables and wires everywhere that lead to nothing. Which is exactly what I came up with.

Cable dispatch dude called me back and said the tech had declared himself not responsible. Which I didn't really buy, and neither did the dispatch dude, but he said he couldn't dispatch someone on his own say-so, he'd have to escalate it to a manager.

"Okay," I said.

"It probably won't be until tomorrow," he said apologetically. A tiny pointy creature made of Panic popped up in my chest because, hello? My furnace hasn't been running in hours and it's effing cold outside, guy.

"Oh," I said. "Um, okay."

"Is your furnace running?" he queried.

"No," I said in a small voice.

"Oh," he said with more concern. "Is it cold?"

"Not yet!" I chirped with false bravado. And he kind of laughed and promised he'd have someone call me as soon as possible, and I told him I would have someone come and look at it in the meantime and not to worry.

And here is where I'm really glad I remained polite and didn't give in to my Panic and demand "better service" or shriek "My baby could FREEZE, you asshole!!" or something. Because then I called hubby at work and snivelled a little and he came home to see if he could fix it.

Turns out? My thermostat runs on batteries. Which I considered, but apparently you have to be 6'3" to be able to see how the fucking thing actually opens up. Nobody considers us shortasses when they're designing thermostats. Paul changed the batteries and - cue the angels singing - they're not going to find my frozen corpse curled around a Bic lighter after all. The timing of the tech dude was sheer coincidence.

And I'm okay with telling you guys what a dumbass I am because now I'm used to it. I called the cable company back and sheepishly explained that no, their wonderful tech guy with his proper-fitting pants did not, in fact, cut the wire to my thermostat. In fact, there IS no wire and I'm just not that bright, so they don't have to 'escalate' the matter to management, let's all just forget it didn't happen, ok?

Except I guess the message didn't get passed on, because this morning someone in Management called me and I had to explain AGAIN that, in fact, it wasn't their fault. Their tech guy walks on freakin' water, even, and I'm just an idiot. Thanks for calling.

So, yeah. Lesson learned. Always be polite to service companies in the face of a potential frozen fate, lest you turn out to be not dying after all and look like an even bigger asshole.

Or something.

My job is eating my soul, but I promised not to blog about work, so you get this

On Tuesday Cristin at Tiptoeing Through the Tulips did this thingie with her blog and I demanded to know how she'd done it. Of course she didn't answer me within 30 seconds so I got impatient and googled it and it's possible I've broken my blog template, but anything I can break that easily is not worth having.

At least that's what I always told myself about men.

Anyway. Right-clicky, please. I'll wait.

So there you have it. Now go read Cristin's blog, she's brutally honest and touching and wicked funny and she swears a lot. She may present me with some competition for Jason Mraz, but I think I can take her because she has that big heart.