Board Meetings, Beer & Cigarettes

Ahhh, a day in the bang ’em up world of property management.  I swear, this last year has been the most up ‘n down year of my meager existence. 

To update anybody who might have missed me in the last three or so years, I got hitched, lost my job, lost another job and have been on a total rollercoaster and trying to figure out who the hell I really am at forty.

Folks, I have finally figured this out.  I’m a bookkeeper.

A bookkeeper for a local property management company.

I know, I know.  Last time I blogged about my job… I got fired for being snide and bitchy.  Lesson learned.  The Man won that battle.  However, if I don’t find an outlet for all of my professional frustration, I’ll just explode.

Seriously, if pissed off restaurant servers can vent on how they get back at horrible patrons, I can surely tell some of the funnies that go during my day to day at this job.  It freakin hilarious. 

Most of my day is consumed with poking payments and bills into a computer.  Not so difficult, right?  Right.

But on occassion, my presence is requested at a Board meeting.  I know, fun, huh?  Right. 

Alls I can say, is if I had to do it all over again, I’d be born rich and have nothing to do  but be a Board Member.  If for nothing more than just go mess with my neighbors.  But, presently, I’m not rich.  I work for the rich…  see where I’m going?

So, I smoke. Alot. 

Life has driven me to bad habits in the last couple of year.   I have foud that the occassional night of drinking a butt load of beer is good for my psyche.    The downside to drinking obscene amounts of beer is that I smoke way too much.

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Scorched Dicks, Resignations &Pink Collars

In keeping with my Pitty Party attitude, I’d like to compose a list of people who’s laps I’d love to accidentally spill a nice cup of hot tea in.

#1 –  The asshat who went and changed wordpress.

WTF??  It was working just fine.

I knew where all the little buttons were.

It took me about 30 minutes to figure out how to save a draft and not publish this perfect post before it was full of sarcasm.

#2 – My step-son.

Why??  WHY??  Why is it every damn time I go out of town for a few days…

*that his dishes sit in the sink crusting with burnt, canned chili

*that his room seems to smell more like a kennel than when I left.

*that his chores never seem to get accomplished timely?

#3 – Big T.

Enough moping around already for fuck sake.

Put on your big boy shorts and find something to do.

When you hurt, take a pain pill.  That’s why you have them.

Quit thinking I’m mad at you all the damn time.

I’m not mad at you, I’m just sick of you drag assing around feeling sorry for yourself.

#4 – The dork at Taco Bell who refuses to give me enough friggin mild sauce to make my bean burrito tasty.

#5 – Christmas shoppers at the WalMart who are in a foul ass mood to be Christmas shopping… collectively, the whole tea pot in all their laps.

Do like me, don’t shop for Christmas if it pisses you off so much!

Ok, there are way too many to list.  So, let’s move on.

I spent the last 3 days in Huntsville at a distributor meeting…

I resigned my position as CFO as whoever was doing all the financial bullshit before me was a complete moron and nothing is as it seems… actually it is.

It’s in the shitter and I’m not about to take responsibility for it.

I’ll go back to my cushy little, high paying sales position… travel and eat in tasty places.

So, I still have a job.  Not the same job, but a job none-the-less.

I managed to talk to the Big Guy, my main boss who flew in for a Board Meeting before the meeting so he’d not be blind-sided and pissed.

The Board Meeting in which I was set to resign…  he had to know.

I told him in theory there is a big fucking difference in a bookkeeper and an accountant… and I just ain’t no accountant.

I can’t do magic with numbers…

unless it’s spending money… I can make that shit disappear.

Anyway… I ended up with a sweet chunk of real estate for my territory.

Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia, North & South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Arkansas.

Yah.  I’ll be a tired bitch from all the road rage in my future.

So, in a nutshell (too late), this week saw one job (the job I loved dearly) disappear, open up to me a new job.  And I only took a $700 a year cut in pay.

Go. Me.

The Redneck turned White Collar (albeit temporarily) is back to the Redneck.

I think I’ll call it Pink Collar.

I’ll be around to give wet, slobbery love to all y’all over the weekend!

Growing Up, My Penis Vase & Saving the Ta-Tas

Ech.  The time has come for me and OG’s tranquil, quiet, happy, little office to start to close it’s doors.

We’ve had 8 years of solitude and nobody bugging us… 

Well except for our hottie UPS guy popping in once a day.

What’s next?  Well, I’m packing. 

And just like people home’s collect years of worthless and dust collecting shit… so did this office.

What is breaking my heart isn’t necessarily the move and it’s not the fact that we are moving into a bigger office with 20 some-odd other people.

Well, yes, that is kind of it.

Why?  Am I anti-social?

No.  I’m not.  But, moving into a bigger and better position means I can’t litter my walls like a dirty old-man’s garage anymore.  

The new place has men in it.  Men who may not look at me as a professional type peanut counter if when they walk by they see penis flower vases and skantily clad men hanging on the wall.

So long to the days of gazing happily into the eyes of the Chippendales who hang on the inside of my office door. 

So long to the clapping monkey and pirates who hang on my wall.

Yah.  We’ll see how long I last before the penis vase gets put out in plain sight.

 

 

Ok LADIES!!!!  LISTEN UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you don’t do it regularly, take a minute and do it today!

Self breast exams, regular doctor visits, mammograms….

Not fun to think about…. BUT

It might save your life!

Click the logo to learn more about National Breast Cancer Awareness Month!

Just do it!

Bean Counting, Catostrophic Accidents & Shitty Pants

But first I must give my apologies for not being around… again. 

Work,  ya know?  It can really interupt regularly scheduled activities like blog reading.

The weekly roadtrip from KnoxVegas to HuntsVegas kicks my ass, in addition to the fact that I’m top bean counter now and that requires non-stop work when I’m there.

In addition to working, I had a near death experience Tuesday morning which rattled me up pretty good. 

I left the house to go to Huntsville at 5 am.   Was cruising toward Chattanooga pretty fast, but slowed down because everybody was bowing up. 

Well, I was creeping a good way behind the pick up in front of me.  Thank.God.

I looked back in my rear view and saw the little SUV behind me coming up, but obviously slowing down.

The semi behind it, however, was not.  Well, not enough.

The semi slammed into the SUV. 

I thought fast enough to find a gear… 1st gear.  Which bunny hopped my ass into the median.

That’s what saved me. 

By the time the SUV pushed by the semi stopped, they were beside the ass end of my truck.

Somehow, nobody was hurt. The ass end of that SUV was smooched.  The shit they had in the back, was now in the front.  Airbags blown. 

Me being the good and sweet humanitarian that I am, I got out and checked on them.  I called 911…  Scared shitless and shaking….   Actually I didn’t shit my pants.  Almost, but not quite.  But I needed a post title. 

I would have really been pissed if my truck would have gotten jacked up.

So, I’m back in KnoxVegas after a 36 hour whirlwind visit to our office in Bama.

I’m gonna sleep.  I will be around in the next few days to say hi to each and every one of you and leave wet slobbery kisses in your comments.

Clearing the Air, Old Folks & Pink Collars

So, I lied.   Yah, yah.  Forgive me?  K?

Didn’t make it around to visit today as I didn’t get the hell out of Sweet Home Alabama until 3:30.

Four hour drive back home and now I’m drinkin cold beer.

Swear, on my bottle of Jack, that I’ll be around Friday.

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I feel I must clear the air here.  It’s only appropriate.

Most of y’all have seen pictures of me on my bloggie. Yes?

Tell me, people.  Do I really look like a girl, who at any time has been a pole dancer???

Now before I offend any one of y’all who might be or might have been a pole dancer let me say, COOL!!

If I was built for it, hell to the yah, I’d have done it…. excellent money and the chance to sleep all day.

But, I digress.  I apologize to have mislead anyone yesterday.  I was not, in fact, a pole dancer at anytime, other than in my dreams.

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I would like to take uno momento to pay my respects to my Papa.  My grandpa.

This man loved me when I was an evil teenager and never gave up on me.

This man taught me how to drive when I was 14 on a dirt road in his new car.

He’s my hero.  He fought in World War II and he provided for his three sons and wife by a wing and a prayer.

He rolls the same route every day to visit all of the people in the neighborhood.

Happy Birthday, Papa!

You’re amazing for a man 90 years young!!

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So, I know every single one of you are just waiting to hear why the hell I ended up running to Bama without so much as a peep before hand.   I just know it.

Here’s how it happened.  My company has been involved in taking over another company, which is located there in Alabama.

OG (my boss and most excellent friend for going on 9 years) moved down and assumed the position of President of said company on Monday.  Go OG!!  You rock balls….

Anyway, I get an email Tuesday evening from OG saying, “Dude, get your ass to Huntsville ASAP.  I’ve called a meeting for 9am.”

So, I got up and went to Huntsville the next morning in time for the meeting.  As it turns out, I was offered the position of C.F.O…  Ain’t that some shit?????

C. as Chief

F. as in Financial

O. as in Occifer

Wooo!  I’m not only white trash, but I’m white collar.  If only by title and definition.  That, my friends, is the redneck dirtying the white collar.   How.Bout.That.

I’ll be turning the white collar pink. 

Granted, I’m good with other people’s money.

Granted, I’m an awesome bean counter.

But, really.  I had no clue and therefore I’m drinking beer to absorb the shock.

So, I’ll be running a marathon to catch up with all of my blog reading after the shock wears off and I sober up.

Have a swell Friday boys and girls!

The DeathStar, Big Daddy’s Dealings & Hillbilly Willy

So, I was in Huntsville, Alabama with OG for work again, striving to put together our little DeathStar and becoming Master of the Universe.  

The corporate take over went very well.  I actually got to touch a check that was in excess of a half million dollars.  More money than my poor, pathetic ass will most likely ever see at one time again. 

 They let me touch the check and I got chills.  They didn’t let me out of the room with the check, and rightly so.  My ass would have been headed to the islands where I could live cheap and suplement my drinking by selling thatch skirts to the tourists.

In addition, I’ve used my imaginative writing skills to compose an actual press release for the takeover, or merger as they like to call it.  It will be released this afternoon and it will be my one little claim to fame as far a publications go.

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Huntsville, Alabama is the home to NASA’s Space Camp and all that cool space jazz.

Of course, I, having only been to visit this particular town once, wanted to go see this space stuff all up close and personal.

I had dreams and aspirations of drinking way too much, getting nekkid and having pictures made on the wing of the space shuttle…. but alas… when one works during the entire span of hours that the space place operates, it makes it a little bit difficult to do something that will likely get ya thrown in the pokey.

I managed not to go to jail for anything at all while in Alabama.  This is always a good thing. 

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There are several interesting points on the 3 hour drive between Knoxvegas and Huntsville I’ve taken note of…  These points I will now share with you.

*** There are 34 churches on the Hwy. 72 that are visible from the road.  This is only a 92 mile trek, which means that there is a church an average of every 3 miles.   And that’s only the churches that are visible.  I’m sure there are at least 100 more on small road that lead to the country.

One can only wonder how many people actually attend all of these churches, as there doesn’t seem to be too many populated areas with houses where people would live. 

***Big Daddy is totally running everything between South Pittsburg, TN & Nickajack Lake.  Fireworks, clothing and outdoor goods… you name it… he gots it.

 

*** Hillbilly Willy’s BBQ.  I’m not so sure how tasty the food is, but I was hooked by the name.

Anyhoooo….

Gramma is still kickin and feisty as ever.  She’s still plotting her escape.  They’ve had to restrain her because she really is planning to bail.  Bad part is, she can’t make it far without getting off balance and biting it.  The whole thing makes me sad and I still cry alot.  It’s hard to watch the woman who raised me and was so vibrant and active just 10 years ago wasting away in a hospital bed.

Fucking heartbreaking.

Big T is set for knee replacement numero uno this coming Monday. 

Anyways, I’m back home now and back to worrying myself sick.  BUT it’s Friday and I have a stocked liquor cabinet and a fridge full of Sam Adams.

To all y’all and yours… Have a great weekend.

Trade Shows, Tacky Suits & Tourist Traps

Ok kids. 

So, I’m out of town again.

Where is Diva, you may be wondering to yourself…

BOSTON, baby!

That’s right.  I’m in Boston, where I’m not sure if they have an accent or if it’s me and my disgustingly thick southern accent just sounds even more sickningly southern.

Anyways.  I’m at a supercool tradeshow and I’ve jacked this computer from the boy that I’m working with.  He’s been duct taped and hidden behind our display for now.

I can’t wait to tell ya’ll about all the cool crap I’ve done since Sunday.  I’ve worn 3 tacky business suits and ate more convention center food than I care to remember.

But, I must digress.  I scarfed some mighty damn tasty clam chowder at Legal Sea Food last night.

Lord willing and the crick don’t rise, I’ll be home Thursday and I’ll be ready to regale you all with my atempts to be jailed in this very fine city. 

It’s harder to get thrown in jail in Boston that it is in Huntsville, Alabama.

Who woulda thunk.

PS, thanks Sage for the pimpin!  I’ll hit ya up when I get home.   The boy has escaped the duct tape!

xxoxo  to all ya’ll.