Both Hands

Alive

I think I've sufficiently recovered from my trip. I'm still exhausted and the time change is still fucking with me, but I'm here. I was going to post something real today, then my neck developed a HUGE cramp or something, so now I'm going to spend the evening lying down with a heating pad.

Tomorrow I'll post pictures of our trip to Dog Beach on Memorial Day.

Stranded

This is the first chance I've had to blog and I've managed to avoid all of the weird computer issues I was having at the hotel. Their wireless network apparently couldn't handle 60 people all trying to log on at once.

I'm at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport in Texas. My plane is delayed. I am not pleased about this. They are closing the McDonalds next to me.

I did, however, find Auntie Anne's Pretzels while here. Good stuff. However, I'm facing the pretzel booth and the creepy pretzel guy keeps staring at me. He's already asked, "How you doin'?" once. I think it may be time to leave the food court and head for my gate.

I have gotten less than 5 hours sleep each night I've been away, last night I hit my worst night--3 hours. The time change from California to the midwest has just killed me. Once I'm on the plane I can sleep...

Hopefully I'll have time to put in a real blog entry tomorrow.

Your regularly scheduled programming

This is not actually Ensie. This would be husband Frinklin. Ensie is in the wilds of whatever mysterious midwestern land that Bob's Hogs is located in, and despite having the super-fancy laptop, she is unable to blog.

She wants to though. And don't worry, I'm sure she will return with interesting stories. From what I understand, a BHWP business trip is a touch more like Summer camp that previously thought.

And yes, I will tape the Lost finale for her. I won't even watch it.

I mean, I will when she's here, not before.

The Missing of the Finale

I love Lost.

My husband loves Lost.

We always watch it together.

Next week is the two hour season finale.

I will be on a business trip in another state.

Dammit.

Do Not Judge a Book By It's Cover

Holes in the linolium. Cigarette burns in the "new" carpet. Burn spots on the counter tops. A very bad smell. Twenty five feet from a six-lane highway.

These are all characteristics that my dream home apparently has.

Damn.

The in-laws checked it out for us earlier today and said it is a dump. I have gotten over my terrible house crush and am moving on.

The District Manager responded to my request for an official letter stating I have a job--she said she'd send it ASAP. I have a job! (even if I don't know the details yet!)

Now I Am Terrified

I found a house. A house that is just about within what I imagine our price range to be. A house that has been dropping in price daily. A house the seller is desperate to get rid of. A house that is everything I have ever wanted in my first house (plus a finished basement as opposed to a scary, serial-killer inhabited basement). It is absolutely wonderful.

I emailed the District Manager of Bob's Hogs in Washington tonight to ask for an official job offer letter so that we can get prequalified for a home loan. I'm now frightened to death she'll be emailing me back something awful to the effect of, "While I know I said I would transfer you up here, I still don't know for sure the details or if I'm ready to make a real job offer."

Please God, don't let that happen. I couldn't bear it.

Real estate agent has been called. Mortgage broker phone call arranged for tomorrow.

Waiting on the official job offer...

One Hot Dog, Please

It is officially Spring/Summer in So Cal. The Jeffrey loves nothing better than melting into a pool of brindle puppy in the sunshine.

I'm almost as paranoid as Richard now

Tuesday, while making deliveries in my car, the odometer readout reached the 70,000 mile mark. I continued to drive, acknowledging the milestone, and duly noted that I should make an appointment for 70,000 mile maintenance soon. We drive our cars A LOT, averaging just over 30,000 miles per year, so our maintinence needs don't match up with most drivers.

As Frinklin and I carpooled home, I reminded him that we needed to schedule a check-up for the Beetle.

As we walked into the house that evening, the phone rang. Frinklin rushed to answer it while I turned on the computer and let the dogs out. He declined something several times and stated that we would call soon. As he hung up, I asked him who was on the phone.

"Drew Volkswagon, wanting us to know that we were due for our 70,000 mile maintinence and offering to schedule an appointment."

How the fuck did they know? Am I being monitored?

News of Me Appears to Be Spreading

Have you ever received an e-mail from someone at work, usually a superior, that just sets you on edge, even if you have no idea what it's actually about?

Today I received just such a vague e-mail from one of the big-wigs at
Bob's Hogs, lets call her Jane. The e-mail read thusly:

Ensie, I have a matter that I would like to discuss with you. Can you please give me a call, I'd prefer not to do it via e-mail.

I called Jane immediately and, of course, got voicemail. I left a message and called her cell phone. No answer. I began to panic. What could it be about? Did I get busted for checking my blog on my new laptop? Nabbed for sending mean e-mails to a few people about the Director of Everything Ensie Does resigning yesterday? Is she going to tell me that I should give up, as I suck at my job? Maybe she just needed to explain why I wouldn't be a likely candidate for the job I want in the Seattle area. The possibilities were limitless!

Jane, fortunately, had not left for the day and returned my call pretty quickly. It's amazing the frenzy I had worked myself into in just a few short minutes.

Jane: "Hi Ensie. I have a strange question for you."

Me: "Sure, what do you need?"

Jane: "I was wondering if you would be interested in relocating in your current role to another area?"

Me: "Um, would this be the area I'm alreay likely to relocate to--the Pacific Northwest? I've been looking at a couple of positions there."

Jane: "Ah, no. I'm actually not at liberty to say where it is. I just wanted to know if you would be interested."

Me: "Hm. Unfortunately no. Due to some family health issues, I am only looking to move to one area of the country."

Jane: "OK."

Pleasantries were exchanged and we discussed a few other minor matters, but that was the whole point of the call.

Now I am desperate to know--where the hell is this job, and why did they want me for it?

Ensie will totally kick your ass

Movin' on Down

The Forbes List of the Best Places to Live has ranked San Diego thusly:

#25 San Diego CA
Population: 2,986,000
RANK

Engineers1 24

Cost of Doing Business2 148

Cost Of Living3 145

Crime Rate4 44

Culture & Leisure5 17

Educational Attainment6 27

Income Growth* 3

Job Growth* 21

Net Migration* 68

Overall 25

And Tacoma falls just behind it at, um, 123rd:

#123 Tacoma WA
Population: 753,000
RANK

Engineers1 120

Cost of Doing Business2 78

Cost Of Living3 102

Crime Rate4 127

Culture & Leisure5 38

Educational Attainment6 115

Income Growth* 149

Job Growth* 36

Net Migration* 34

Overall 123

But it means the houses are cheaper!

Don't Do This

Do not spend your afternoon with your husband looking at houses that will be WAY off the market in Tacoma by the time you get there at the end of June.

Also, don't up your price range "just a little bit to see what's out there." It will make you cry.

Lastly, definitely don't look at the houses in downtown Seattle that are WAY out of your price range.

The Kinks

Cannot...get...Picture Book out...of...head.

HP too powerful!

I've given in and forced Frinklin to download it.

If you like your issues black and white...

...take this test.

I'm such a grey-area sort of person. I wish I took a stronger stance on many issues.

Found at so anyway...

I Hate the Local Paper

Last week I placed an ad with our local paper for a garage sale. The ad clearly states (as does my receipt) that the ad would come out in the 05/12/05 edition of the paper and that the garage sale would be Saturday, May 14th.

I read the (05/05/05 edition) paper this morning and there is my ad in the garage sale section clearly stating that Saturday (no date) we would be hosting a garage sale!

Pissed off garage salers have been drivng by my house all morning.

Until now, I had no story that contained the phrase, "Then the stripper showed up."

I'm finally getting around to writing about the stripper. Which is something I was hoping to avoid. But really, when a stripper comes into your life, you have to deal with it.

Last Saturday night I attended a work friend's 21st birthday. This was pretty exciting in my world, as I'm usually in bed by 9pm. We actually drove the 40 minutes to the birthday girl's apartment after dark, and planned to leave after an hour or so. We got home at 3am.

Becuase it was a 21st birthday, alcohol was the gift of choice. I contributed the making for Buttery Nipple (aka "Slippery Nipple") shots and a six pack of hard cider. Upon arrival I wrote my porn name (Brandy Hermasillo) on my cup and did a couple of double shots to loosen up. Good thing.

Then the stripper showed up.

The apartment had a kitchen separated from the dining area by a bar and a living room, all in the same general area. I pressed myself against the far wall of the kitchen, holding my husband planted in front of me, while the stripper did his thing to Nelly's "Hot In Herrre". I'm really a one penis sort of girl. I had no desire to get any closer.

The unsuspecting birthday girl had a wad of dollar bills in her hand when he first appeared. First came off the fireman's coat. Then the helmet. Then the pants. Once he was down to the boxer/briefs and the birthday girl had gone from red to purple, a sudden attack of modesty came upon him and he declined to go all the way down to the neon green thong. It's not that he wasn't pretty, but the idea of a stranger coming into a room of friends and removing all his clothes was a little, well, odd. Certainly not sexy. Mostly just funny.

As he got dressed before leaving, he pulled on a shirt with print on the front. I noted the name of a prominent gay bar in town. I found out later that b-day girl's best friend had paid $150 for 15 minutes of half-naked gay giration. Hardly worth it if you ask me.

PS--Dad, since you just told me tonight that you read my blog for the first time today, indicating that you might read it again in the future, please note that this is not the sort of thing I usually do on a Saturday night. I'm usually at the lesbian bars.

On the Job Front

Thanks to Gir, Violet, and Eden for your comments on my last post regarding my Seattle-area job that didn't happen. I did some crying, talked with my Mom and my husband, and came to the realization that this job just wasn't the right one.

Today I gave the Washington District Manager a call and we discussed the job possibilities up North. She surprised me by describing something I wouldn't have thought possible; not just a transfer, but a promotion! She has offered to create a position almost identical to my own in the store closest to the area we plan to move into, then promote me into a District-focused (as opposed to store-focused) role once the kinks are ironed out in the near future (Corporate hoo-ha and whatnot). The job would be created specifically for me, and I would be based out of any store I would like, as well as working from home much of the time. Hello, possible dream job.

We also discussed a store management job that would propel me toward a future as a General Manager, so I'll likely apply for that and see where things take me.

Finally, she asked what my timeline is for moving to Tacoma. I told her I wasn't sure, since I was anticipating moving when a job happened, not moving whenever I wanted with a job waiting.

I feel a real sense of possibility right now.

WTFWJD?

Many, many thanks go out to Eden of so anyway... who sent me this great shirt in return for the Bob's Hogs' Free Schlock I sent her way. I love it!

I cracked up at the note she sent along with it:

"I need a picture of you wearing this, in public. Preferably in church."

I’ll do my best to get that shot soon.

Thanks Eden!

I did not get the job. I didn't even get to interview.

...

Monday, One PM, PST

Barring any more missing resume problems or time difference miscalculations, my final interview should happen next Monday.

And I was afraid this interview process might get dragged out a bit.