Thanks everyone

to all of you who have read my blog, a heartfelt thank you. i would have never imagined the people that I have talked to who read my stuff or even really knows my name. As far as I know this is the end of ILYT CoaSM until I am a widow...hopefully that will not happen. I plan on dying first. You know what they say: "life is what happens while you are making other plans".

this is not the end of my blog. if you know me personally then you know I always have something to spout about. "Who?" used to say I am a veritable fountain of useless information and quasi-knowledge.

Nah, I'm just opinionated and have no child to raise and tell what what.

I will be sending ILYT to some publishers just to frame the rejection letters. If anyone wants to be my agent, you are welcome to 10% of nothing. YAY!

I know, my generosity is overwhelming.  :)

ILYT Confessions of Serial Marrier Lessons Learned

My dad taught me many things but the best thing he ever taught me is the following which I must paraphrase: Everything in life is a choice except breathing. You have to breathe to live, after that it is all choice. If you choose to live outside the law or the accepted morals and behaviors of the the society you live in then have chosen to possibly accept the consequences of your actions. GOOD ONE.

You pick your hassles. Nothing is idyllic. There is no nirvana or utopia. Every choice has an associated hassle. You want to live in the suburbs? You have to drive in traffic. You want to live in the country? You have to drive a distance to get anything. You want to live where it's cold? You are going to be snowed in sometimes. You want to live on a river? You will experience a flood. I think you get the general idea here. You pick your  hassle to have what you want.

Learn to entertain yourself. This is from my mom. I added, learn to like yourself when you are alone. Being at peace with yourself in complete silence and solitude is comforting. Cherish yourself.

Appreciate effort. You may not like the results but appreciate what someone tried to do.

There is something better at the end. This is the lesson from my friend Johnny.
Johnny was one of my gay friends at work He made me laugh everyday. We stayed in touch after we both moved on to different places and things in our lives. Johnny called me one day to tell me he had suffered a heart attack and almost died. Actually did die and was revived. He said he always chose to NOT believe in anything after this life because maybe God really does hate gay people. When he "died" he stood in the light. He felt the love and serenity and peace of heaven. He said he learned in an instant that in reality nothing matters but love. Loving and being loved in return. He couldn't wait to get back. His mission was to say "I love you" and why to everyone in his life. He made it. He accomplished his mission and passed away quietly in his sleep within days.

I am not saying be a Christian. I am saying know that what you do here on earth matters every day. Do not pass up an opportunity to show kindness. Do not miss that chance to say or show, "I love you".  Use your self to promote goodness and light and make the world a better place. You will be happier too.

Thanks for reading. I love you all.  Peace.

ILYT Confessions of A Serial Marrier Lillybell Advice

I wish I could gather all you women/girls at my feet and tell you all about the trials and tribulations you will or have faced and what you can or what you should have done. As you can see I learn by repeating the same mistakes, that is not good. So here are just a few general pointers.

 Men/boys, I have some advice for you as well.  Stop laughing.

Ladies: There is nothing special about sleeping with someone. It proves nothing except that you are easy. Mom always said, "if you give away the milk for free they don't buy the cow". NO. They buy the cow but they keep going back to the store for a carton with a different expiration date. Respect your vagina. My generation made the mistake of sleeping with every man who wanted us. MEN WANT ANYONE WITH A VAGINA. Those are the facts, Ma'am. Take a look around you. Look for a woman that makes you go "ew", and see if she has children. If so, someone slept with her. It's not a special talent, it isn't unique to you. You are not better at anything than anyone else. If women everywhere were less willing, men would respect us more not less.  Old fashioned? Yes and no. Yes, it seems archaic. No, it is smart for you. When was the last time some man hurt you because he didn't even call?

Friends with benefits: NO SUCH THING. Do not fall for this. Friends with benefits merely means the man has to do nothing but use his penis. "Not me", some of you are thinking. "just sex is fine". No. Go to your "friends" wedding. See if you don't ask yourself, "what makes her benefits better?".

Sex with another woman because he wants you to. STOP THIS NOW! If your man wants to involve someone else in your relationship ask him to fellate your best man friend. Men would ask you to screw a monkey if it was hot in movies, music videos and porn. Women having sex with women for real and not in some fantasy makes you boneheads. Me personally, never met a woman I just had to kiss or lick. IF you are indeed bi-sexual, go for it. If you are not, tell your mate, Uh....no. Respect your friend's vagina too.

 DO NOT DANCE TITTY TO TITTY WITH YOUR FRIENDS IN A BAR. If you cannot catch some man's attention all by yourself, he isn't worth it.  Famous women: STOP LOOKING LIKE WHORES. This just says, "all we got is sex". We all know that you are pretty and have a nice body. When you show it off, think class not ass. Talent says it all. Being naked to "express yourself" equates to, "gonna be a has been soon".

Lust is NOT love. It is a damn good imitation. It is satisfactory for a while and then it sucks. Being sexy does not make a man smart. Look beyond the twinkle in his eye and his smile that says, "yum". See if he has character. Looks fade. Sometimes quickly, both his and yours. You have to be with this man when he is vomiting, farting, burping, chewing his nails, repeating himself, whatever...you better really like him not just want him before you commit your time, money, effort and life.

Start off being you. Do not feign interest or pretend you are something you are not. Start with your worst qualities. If a man loves you after that it is pretty much a smooth ride.

Women/girls - stop being envious and petty. Someone will always be prettier than you, thinner than you, have bigger boobs than you, be a better whatever than you. Embrace each other and stop being competitive. Women hating women for such silly things makes us airheads. Be your best you. That's what you have. Celebrate it. Celebrate what your friends have.

MEN/boys

GROW UP. That is the best advice I can give you. Stop using women as sperm depositories. That makes babies. You have a tendency to walk away from those babies. STOP IT. Babies become people who need daddies. If you are not ready or willing to be a father take the responsibility. Women are not responsible for birth control, you are equally responsible. LEARN THIS.

Sleeping with every woman you can is not that attractive. Try a little respect for yourself. AND shut up about the women you do sleep with. We do not want to hear the sordid details. If you simply cannot keep your mouth shut about your abilities to attract women and who did what to who, you need your lips sewn together for a bit as a reminder to show a little respect.

Proving how much you can drink loses it's appeal after the age of 16. Burping is NOT impressive. Farting really should be private. Bathroom humor should lose it's appeal at the time of puberty.

You are not the only man with a penis. Every man has one unless they have faced a tragic accident or birth defect. You cannot do anything with your penis that any other man cannot do. I know, I'm sorry but it's true.

Sex is more than the act. There is a prelude. Learn this.

Every woman/girl is some one's daughter. If you have a daughter think about how you would want her treated and follow that path.

This applies to your sons too. Getting laid as soon as possible is NOT an accomplishment. Do not treat it like one.

Those women in the strip clubs DO NOT like you. They want your money. If you are between the ages of 50 and 60, or over, going into a strip club makes you pathetic, sad and a source of ridicule.

When you date someone young enough to be your daughter you both look foolish. What do you talk about? How much you and her parent's have in common? And you young girls who date these old men, remember, women their own age have rejected them for a reason. NO, I am not jealous of you girls I feel sorry for you. I know what old dudes are like. By the way, I want to be with a 30 year old almost as much as I would like a root canal. Raised enough men, thank you.

And  being yourself applies to you too. Don't start off being fabulous if really it's an act you perform to impress your lady and then suddenly become thoughtless. Just start off being clueless and thoughtless. Trying in the beginning proves that you can and makes you a bigger ass when you don't.

GET A JOB.

PULL UP YOUR PANTS!!!

That's it for now. I bet I think of more later. Oh dear.

ILYT Confessions of A Serial Marrier Apologies and etc.

First I want to say that I am not perfect. I know that sounds odd after reading all the pages of me being awesome. I have not always been faithful and true. I've lied and cheated. That gift of bullshit is a blessing and a curse. I have made many, many mistakes. I have hurt people. I have treated people with little regard and at this stage of my life I realize just how wrong I was and just how often.  If you got in my way or I covered you in venom, I am truly sorry.

I have been proven wrong many times. Did you know that the Alamo is in downtown San Antonio and NOT out in the country? I didn't. Elsie taught me that after I made us check out of our hotel on the river walk. I was convinced it was very far away. It was right around the corner.

Did you know that always having an answer is not a good plan? I learn this lesson over and over. Not everyone wants my opinion. Wow, they do not know what they are missing. Or maybe they have just had my opinion a little too often. Sorry.

To husband, Who. Sorry, I didn't know how stupid I was. I am so glad you found happiness and someone wonderful. You deserve that.

Paul, I know you and I don't tell our story the same way. I also know that I am not the only 15 year old on earth who fell too in love, too deeply, too soon. I hope we have a drink someday. I hope we both understand that no one is too blame. We were both kids. I hope you re-find your perfect her. You were right to marry her and not me. Sorry.

Oops, I thank you for making me who I am today. You made me stand up. I like it here on my feet not in the corner. I hope your life is calm and peaceful and that your talent still shines.

Elsie, I thank you because I got to do something I always wanted to do. Be your wife and a musician at the same time. I am so glad we are friends. My life would not be the same without you.

Current. You are the Prince.

Bear in mind that these stories are my recollections, not completely accurate I am sure. Some of the instances are based more on feelings than accurate memories. You read the drug chapters, right?. Some things are verbatim. Mainly the melt downs and rants. I have vivid memories of those moments.

Most of the people mentioned in this book(?) are still very important parts of my life. Cassie, Alan, Zelda, Ruby, Frankie, Golden Girl, Elise, Inga, Shaneequa and Bubba, (Bubba's wife too). They are my chosen family. I miss Jeff everyday. Even now almost thirty years later and I can hear his voice in my head. I wish we had made a record. I would love to hear him outside my head too.

Nomercy got walked out of the Center one day years after I was gone. WMB.  Without My Business?

Brother and I have actual conversations now. He is quite funny and still talented and smart. His wife is his equal. His children I would steal if we were not related.

You know those kids that you just know will be perfect? The ones voted most likely to be everything? Then they end up in the gutter? Didn't happen with Bridget. Last I heard she was a very successful attorney in the northeast, married once with several beautiful children. She was the Angel Fish. I was the Flounder.
I managed.

Mom and dad are both sick now. They have dementia. Mom is almost gone, dad is fading. It kills me every day. And yes, dad was almost always correct. Not always right but correct.

Don't miss the Appendix: Lillybell advice: For Heavens Sake SOMEONE Learn From My Mistakes and The Best Lessons I Ever Learned.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier REALLY?

The next day was Friday and we had the same flight back home. Then I would have to drive like a maniac to get my parent's to visit with brother and his family. LOVE HIS KIDS. Couldn't wait to play Aunt Lillybell. Friday morning Current took me into downtown and showed me the Institute of Art, The Drake Hotel, Marshall Fields store with the Tiffany mosaic ceiling. I had my mouth open all day. I had never seen things like Monets and entire glass wall by Marc Chagall. The Drake was elegant and Marshall Fields, well, I was in shopping heaven. Picked up gifts for niece and nephew and a little something for me. When we got to the airport MY seat had been upgraded to first class. Not his,  mine. I had never flown first class. I felt like a fish out of water. Fortunately, I adapt easily.

I made it to my parent's house on time. I was all dressed up and got the Aunt Lillybell thrill of children's adoration. My dad immediately started grilling me on how the very important meeting with all the important MEN was. I told him important women were there too. He was not amused. I told him it was great. I expected to get the money I had begged for and then we would start rolling out national plans. Then I added that the most difficult part of my trip had been telling my bosses boss I wouldn't marry him. I was kidding. My father said, and I quote, "I'm sure he wants something from you but I doubt seriously a man like that would want to marry you".  REALLY? STILL?

"Daddy, shut up. In case you have not noticed I have no problem finding men who want to marry me I just haven't found one worthy of my fabulousness. YOU'VE NEVER MET THIS MAN who is too good for your daughter based on his position in business. I know when a man wants to marry me and he does!"

Time passed. Current took me places and sent me places. He never booked himself in the same hotel. He sent Shaneequa and me to the Caribbean on vacation for HER birthday. He bought me car he thought I would look good in. A classic Corvette that I couldn't get out of without groaning. He showed me life could be different all right. If I mentioned I liked something it appeared. If I said I always wanted to go here or there, he sent or took me. This can't be real.

I finally took him to meet my parents. My dad took me aside and said, "marry him". I did.

I don't talk much about Current. He's my secret. I always describe him as the massive solid wall in the  gallery or museum where the art is displayed. He provides the platform and gives everyone their time in the spotlight. He doesn't like it there, being the center of attention. He likes the background. He is solid. He is my rock.

We have not had a perfect life. We have had every problem you can have. Financial, illness, deaths of family members, difficult ex wife, care giving to our parents and a money pit house. But I never have to worry about whether or not he will be here, be sober, have an answer or suggestion. He always is and he always does. He is calm when I am railing. He is reasonable when I am ranting. In other words he is a Saint that I do not deserve.

And I will keep him.

Stayed tuned. The final chapters are about what happened to everyone, apologies where necessary and the world's best advice. Mine.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Stop Being Perfect

Of course I was kidding. I didn't want to get married and I didn't want to cavort with my bosses boss that would be like a mini National Enquirer nightmare at work. I so appreciated this man's kindness. When he found his apartment I did all the shopping for him. Dishes, glasses, towels, all that stuff you need to start over. It was the least I could do.

I had spent months doing a dog and pony show about how we should train customer service representatives to work on the phone. Sending them through umpteen departmental training sessions would take forever and they didn't need to know how to do everything. They needed know how to FIND everything and interpret the information in the appropriate fields on the on-line system screens. We needed a manual and curriculum for our team. It took months and months of preparation to write all the curriculum and processes and create the reference binder to help reps navigate the many systems. I didn't do this all by myself. I had help from several sources but this was my dog and pony show. I was a SME. Subject Matter Expert.

Current had to attend a meeting of all bigwigs in Chicago with other Center bigwigs and headquarters people and the president of sales and the CEO. He wanted me to come to Chicago and give my presentation for the prestigious gathering. Sure. I could do it in my sleep and answer all the questions I knew would follow. At the same time my brother and his family, now with two children, (a boy and a girl, perfect), were coming to visit. Mom and Dad wanted a family picture taken and all of us to go to dinner on Friday night. I told dad that my flight wouldn't get in from Chicago until late Friday afternoon but I would haul butt and try to make it on time. Dad was FINALLY impressed with me. I was giving a presentation to IMPORTANT CORPORATE people. I had done it before, no biggie, but I let him be impressed.

Current was already in Chicago when I arrived for my part of the meeting. I did my little show, answered four zillion questions and never cried or vomited. In other words it was a success. YAY. Current said to me after the meeting that he was proud to have me in his organization and how they couldn't run without me. Did I want to go downtown and have some real Chicago pizza to celebrate?  "Hell, yes". I was too afraid to venture into downtown Chicago by myself so I was THRILLED to see a big city and eat famous pizza with someone who had lived there.

I put on my comfy jeans with a Tee and sandals to walk around the city and eat Chicago style pizza. We arrived at the restaurant and there was no pizza. There was however a very suave man in tails and people who looked like they were going to or coming from the opera. I felt like a bumpkin. The waiters knew my name and brought me a cocktail I didn't order. The sommalier arrived at the table with wine selections for the pre arranged dinner of Duck something, vegetables I couldn't identify and fancy flaming something for dessert.  OK. I better go the ladies room and adjust my demeanor. HOLY COW! I had never seen a public bathroom quite like this before. With an attendant. And real towels. And private bathrooms, not toilets, bathrooms with sinks and  mirrors.  Say what?

I made polite conversation through dinner and tried to draw no extra attention to myself being the only homeless looking person in the establishment. We dined. Dining takes forever. I am kind of impatient with sitting, eating and the drinking that accompanies fancy dinners, not for me, not often anyway. Current and I were going to have a little talk on the way back to the suburbs and our very separate rooms. VERY SEPARATE.

We got in the rental car and I thanked him very much for the dinner and told him that I had never experienced anything like that before. Then I ripped him a new one.

"I DON'T LIKE BEING MANIPULATED", was how I started. "Of all the men on EARTH I thought would do this, you were the last on the list. I am STUNNED. What, do you think I am going to date my bosses boss and completely commit professional suicide?" I needed to breathe. He needed to chain smoke, he threw a butt out the window. "AND don't EVER do THAT!, how disgusting. Good grief. You need to know the truth about me. I am NOT corporate Barbie. I am Old Hippie Barbie. I smoke a joint EVERY MORNING BEFORE WORK so I can deal with 22 whiners not to mention customers who are convinced that Xerox does INDEED begin with a Z. I AM NOT cheerful and fun. I am opinionated and bitchy. ASK ALL MY HUSBANDS. AND if I am having a bad day I go some place quiet and smoke a joint AT LUNCH. You can imagine what I do at home. FIRE ME. I will not put up with this SHIT from ANYBODY".

"I don't have a problem with anything you just said and I apologize for being grandiose. I just think a woman like you deserves so much better than you obviously have received. Any man who would let you go without doing everything he was capable of is an idiot. As for smoking marijuana, I don't see that as being different than alcohol. We've all had those lunches. I just wanted to show you  that life can be different and I would NEVER take advantage of you or expect anything in return".

oh.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier And In The End...almost

Seems like I walked numbly through the next several months. Or strutted numbly. After all, I did love those CMFM pumps.  Work was constant and unbelievable. Twenty two customer service representatives is a huge number of people to make as happy as possible. Customers were either completely unreasonable or we had made their lives so miserable we deserved every ugly thing they could say or write. The corporate bigwigs had again decided to change the name of our Center. No More Customer Service Center. Now we were the Customer Care Center and again it made no difference. Gosh I wanted them to pay me the big bucks to make decisions like that. Expensive and ineffective. They expected me to produce results.

We had a new hire on our team I just adored. Isabella was a first generation American with both parents being from a country in Central America. Her dad was a doctor, her mom was a matriarch  and she was a walking, breathing beauty who had no idea she was luminous. Isabella was smart as a whip and picked up on the complexities of her job quicker than many long term employees. She was a talker, very animated and as was her culture she touched you when she talked to you. Not in a flirtatious or weird way in a human and friendly way. Everyone loved her. Nomercy found her fascinating. Yeah, maybe WMB stood for Women Must Bendover. Isabella and her family went to their homeland for a two week vacation. She returned with rolls of film of the landscape and 900 relatives. She came to my desk and told me Nomercy had asked her to come to his office so he could see her photos. Right. "Isabella", I said, "he does not want to see your photos". "He seems lonely and like he could use a friend. He seems very interested in my trip". She was so innocent. "Isabella, be careful. The man is NOT lonely. He is married and can afford to buy friends".

I didn't think too much about Isabella, she could handle herself. She probably had men lined up asking if they could buy her a car or take her away to someplace exotic on a regular basis. WRONG. Isabella didn't know how to say, "you're creepy".  But I did. Xerox held another teamwork day where we all proved how clever and smart we were to have brilliant and creative ideas to help run our business that our executives profited greatly from. We peons were still happy to get a two percent raise in a good year. Isabella's apartment was close to the facility for this year's really big show. She and I left early to drink and smoke and talk bad about every one. Her phone rang. It was Nomercy per her caller ID. "Oh let me answer", I giggled. "OK", she giggled back. "Isabella's apartment, she isn't available at the moment, Nomercy, I will tell her you called. I will also tell her NOT to call you back".  "I must have cacacacalled the wrong number". "No, you didn't. Buh bye". Damn that was funny. Damn, that was my career.  Not really, what could he do? He already made my life miserable as possible. I hoped he was sweating and his testicles had returned to their pre natal position.

At home things were odd. I wasn't financially able to move in a huff. I had to move in a while when I could afford it. We had things to divide. He got the stereo. I got all the CDs I wanted. He got the house. I got to help pay for the house for eight years. I got a new washer/dryer and a mattress. He got everything else that I didn't bring with me. I took all the Christmas decorations. I got the almost paid for Blazer. He got the New Mazda SUV. We shared custody of the dog. He would keep her and I could visit.

We were OK roommates except I still wanted to kill him sometimes and he wanted me to get lockjaw. I finally found a roommate I thought I could stomach, an apartment we could afford and had enough money to pay deposits. I could not afford the actual move yet. It's expensive to hire people with a truck to move your meager belongings across the metroplex. I was finally going to live closer to the job I now all but hated. Yay. Life was not at all what I thought it was going to be. Surprise.

One morning on the way to work I had a major meltdown. One tear led to a flood. SHIT. I hated being a wussy and now I was going to have to wash my face and reapply my makeup so I could be professional and listen to people whine about a hangnail making it impossible to answer the phone.  Teaching kindergarten has to be easier and the people more reasonable.

I reached the elevators all Tammy Faye streaked and Current was just hitting the button. "You OK?" he asked? "No, but I will be. It's personal crap from home. My husband and I are divorcing and I just had a moment." I stuttered. "Go home", he said, "you need a mental health day".  "My husband is off today, I don't want to go home".  "Come to my office, I'll get you a diet coke". 

I went to his office. We talked. He understood my mental state. He and Mrs. Current were separated too. I thought he looked thinner and haggard. He also didn't have on his wedding ring. We talked about how hard it is to start over. He could not find an apartment because he made too much money. That made me laugh. I told him I had an apartment and couldn't afford the actual move.

The next morning Current came to my desk and asked for my Fort Worth address and the address of my new apartment. He had called in some favors and had trucks and men ready to roll on Saturday.  Done. "I can't pay them, Current, that's the problem. I have no money to even say thank you if you know what I mean". "Taken care of", he said. "What time on Saturday?'

"Will you marry me?" I said.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Revorce is in the Air

I was beginning to fear for my mental health. I figured crazy couldn't be too far behind. It is not my nature to give in and not whine about something I want when I don't think what I want is unreasonable. I wanted to move closer to my job so I could earn enough money to live and have tons of vacation every year. Elsie wanted to sit in his house forever and live 20 minutes from work on a bad day. There was no answer, there was no compromise.

Then let's move some place in Ft. Worth that is OUR house, not your house. That seemed ridiculous to Elsie as our house payment was cheap. Our neighborhood was also deteriorating and soon the property would not have the value it currently held. We lived one block over and three blocks east of where I lived when Bridget was my best friend. Moving inside Ft. Worth didn't seem like a solution either. I really just craved some sort of change. I felt like I was dying on the vine. All my friends, or most of my friends, had children and were completely wrapped up in the wonders of their lives. I had a stressful job and a quasi-husband.

I finally said the words: "You need to decide. Do you want to be married to me and let's grow up and have a goal, some goals, something other than when and where the next party is OR do you want to be a Bub and party and hang with the same people and tell the same stories over and over? When you decide, let me know so I can start making plans to start over again if I have to."  Elsie said he would think about it which of course means, "yeah I don't want to be married to you anymore". And that's what he said three days later.

So there you have it. Being married to me is not quite as good as partying and drinking. Sounds about right. OK now all I need is money and a roommate unless I wanted to live in a ghetto. I had a car payment and an engine payment and credit card debt. Xerox didn't pay me what I was worth. There wasn't enough money in the world or the budget.

Yay! I was going backwards again. I just love that. Plus there was the added thrill of telling my parents that once again I was going to be revorced. They were so proud. I guess it was pride. It was hard to tell through the head shaking and crying,

So proud to tell everyone I was getting revorced. And all the arguing and dividing of things, that would be fun too. Time to start saving money so I could afford first and last month rent and deposits and cable and whatever else would be needed, like furniture.

That all sucked but what really bothered me that was not even love worked. Or my version of it. Or our version of it. That blew every theory I ever had about relationships. I believed in TRUE love. Not anymore. I believed in, "leave me alone you sorry bastard". That went for everyone with a penis, unless they were gay. I was done. I could be the crazy lady with cats and a job. That was fine and probably where I was destined to be anyway.

I was never getting involved in another relationship much less get married. I obviously was not good at that. I mean I could get married but staying married seemed out of the question. So the hell with it. Men seemed as useless as tits on a boar. I would stand on my own two feet and work my ass off so some day I could retire to be alone. No husband, no children. Awesome. It was that or kill myself and I am far too chicken to do that. While God and I were still at odds I didn't want to have that conversation about how I didn't value my life. I feel certain He/She didn't want to hear about how pissed off I would be forever that I didn't have children.

Old Maid. I could do that.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Is It Me? Duh

This time of my life was very confusing and complicated. As a management candidate I was supposed to eat, sleep and breathe professionalism. As I person I wasn't good at that. I found holding my tongue to be slightly harder than algebra. I'm quick with a quip. I cannot help it. I also had a problem that was checked on every report card in elementary school, "acts before thinking".  Now it was more like, "blathers before she can help herself".

Employees made me crazy. Not all of them just most of them. I thought I was a whiner. These people could whine about everything and they did. It was too hot, it was too cold. Their cubicle neighbor wore perfume they didn't like. They wanted a window view. They should have gotten the $5.00 recognition check. They just couldn't drive three miles to work and get here on time. They didn't get asked to go to lunch with those people. They took more calls than Bobby. Bobby NEVER did anything. Bobby had an offensive picture hanging in his cubicle. The manager likes Susie better. You never give me the best schedule. It was daily and endless.

REALLY? Shut up and do your job, get here on time. LEAVE ME ALONE, I have actual responsibilities that don't include your issues. NO WAIT, that is my job. I am supposed to make sure you're happy so my managers don't get bad employee reviews. OK, "ah, cluck, cluck, coo, coo, poor baby...get to work".

And customers. I was the person who talked to the customers that wanted to speak to "your manager".  I learned to be a nightmare from these people. My first call from an angry customer was a man who was beside himself with humiliation because our computer system held enough characters to list his business as, "Mr. Really Angry T. Butthead and Ass". Not associates. Ass. He didn't want his name reduced so we could make "ass" "assc". No, he wanted us to make the system use his entire company name. NOT HAPPENING DUDE! was not the answer, although really it was the answer. Compromise with me OR ass will be appropriate.  Actually, I said, "Sir, I do understand your frustration and I wish I could reprogram the mainframe for you to accept your entire company name. I will forward that as a suggestion to the IT department, however, in the mean time if you let me change your company name to, "Really Angry Butthead" that will give me two more characters to give you Assc. on your invoice. Will that make you happy until Xerox can make the mainframe changes?"  Yeah, that would never happen. He didn't need to know that and I needed him off my phone because I had an employee with a blister. Bullshit always comes in handy.

There has to be a better way to live than this. It was my first thought every morning and my last thought at night, Should have been a Beatle. I bet their lives were way more fun and they could hire people to deal with everyone. Was I asking for too much? A happy personal life? A relationship with a husband who respected me and wanted to be in my presence? A satisfying work life that didn't take 20 of the 24 hours of my day? A place to live with my husband that wasn't cities away from where I worked?  I missed performing but I certainly had no time or patience for that. Elsie and I even jammed with Oops a few times. The harmony was spine tingling but I just couldn't do that. Creepy. Great band name, All My Husbands.  I had no joy. I had nothing to look forward to and it was becoming apparent I was going to have to support myself  forever so being in management would give me a better lifestyle than sharing an apartment with someone else. I might kill that person.

I was going to be forty soon, FORTY and still didn't feel like a grownup. I was sick of that too. Almost everyone I knew could not wait for the weekend so they could PARTY! I needed the weekend to catch up on my work and sleep. FORTY seemed like a good age to not have to be in a bar everyday or at some one's house or trying to get drunk and/or laid. I wanted a little island of silence, peace and contentment. Drunks were the same everywhere.

Drunksarerealsmartandlitketolectureabouteverysubjecttheyeverheardoforthoughtaboutonce.

I didn't need alcohol to be like that. I came that way. Trying to have a conversation with a drunk is like herding cats. You have to get their attention and hold it, then move them from point to point without them being distracted by anything that moves or is shiny. Pointless. I learned to just walk away from them. Yeah, blah, blah, blah, you're an idiot and you're welcome for my pointing that out.

Elsie and I were giving it another shot. I loved him underneath all the resentment and frustration. We went on vacation that was so much fun that I had hope. I held that hope until we returned home. Back to the routine. Back to our battle lines. I would not quit my job. He would not move. He would not stop or cut back much on his drinking. I had no tolerance left. The Lead Bub told me that Elsie just wanted to have sex. OH, well goody for him. ME TOO with a sober partner. And by the way Lead Bub, your advice carries NO weight. Try not to burn up your nose.

I believe people called me "Miss Congeniality" behind my back. I didn't care. Once the world figured out I was correct about everything it was going to be a much better to live.

Unfortunately, I still feel that way.

ILYT Confessions of A Serial Marrier Welcome To The Phone Team

The phone team. That is what the general population called us. For now we were an experiment. Customers would call the 800 line, one of our reps would answer the phone and then based on their personal knowledge and background they would resolve the issue OR transfer the call to the responsible administrator in either Billing, Credit, Finance, or to Sales or Service lines. It was a start but it did not solve the problem of efficient customer service. The vision was that a customer could call, we would resolve the issue on initial contact when possible or explain the process necessary to resolve their issue. Not have representatives with varying degrees of expertise taking stabs at what might work

The Xerox Billing System is not quite as simple as the U.S. Tax code. There are limitless bill plans based on equipment type, accessories, marketing gimmicks and offers. There are several different levels of customers, mom and pop, major accounts and Government. Some customers pay monthly, some quarterly, some semi annually some not at all. Government customers use purchase orders. Service contracts are different from sales contracts and renew on specific dates based on the contract purchased. Leased equipment is different than sold equipment. Refurbished is different than new. And the name of the company starts with an X that sounds like a Z so customers have a hard time finding you in the phone book.

Apparently the computer system that was the brains behind all of our billing and collection on line systems were older than the abacus and required many hamsters in wheels to power. As I understand it baling wire and duct tape were major hardware components. Making changes to the system was not quite as easy as building the Great Wall of China. Departments developed "work arounds" and "manual billing" systems. This made building a team to deal with all customers a challenge.

All we had to do was put together a team of people, train them in all aspects of Xerox, install phone equipment that was not antiquated, write procedures, curriculum, convince people that working on the phone with customers is fun and not hell. Then sell it to headquarters and the rest of the Centers and make it run smoothly and beg for money. Alright then. Let's get started.

We got volunteers and/or transfers from several other teams. We got the cream of the crop and the dregs of the pot. We got lots of new hires. We got the best first line manager, Pauladean, a Lead Rep, Bobblehead and Me, the Specialist. I had no technical knowledge of any of the departments. I had a great amount of knowledge of how things were supposed to work inside the company. What action caused what reaction in other departments, etc. My job was to write procedures, makes the employees happy and of course be in all the dog and pony shows. Keep people informed up and down the chain of command of all changes and issues and suggestions and successes. In my spare time I was to learn the technical information  and workings of each department.

Thank goodness that was all. No. Current had somehow threatened or convinced Nomercy to make me a management candidate. That meant classes and seminars and training and Oral Panels with Middle and Senior Management. The next few years were going to be fun and awful and challenging and infuriating.

Just like life.

ILYT Confssions of a Serial Marrier Thank You For Another Problem

I just couldn't believe my luck. All of it bad. Elsie and I, mainly me, had decided that I would live in Dallas during the week and at home on the weekend. My good friend Inga and her husband had a mother-in-laws room where I was welcome to stay. This cut my drive time to work to less than a third. There was no snoring in my end of the house. I slept. I almost felt good so of course it was time for something bad to happen. It did.

My Blazer quit running one day on the way to my Dallas home. Oh please let it be something simple. It was. Apparently there was some planned obsolescence built into the engine and this day was it's last. Cars don't run without engines. I don't run without a car. It was a simple problem. I needed a new engine. Not a simple solution. I had no money.

Time to go to the credit union and explain my problem. They were more than happy to lend me the money after I filled out paperwork to ensure that I would give them an arm if I didn't pay back the money or something. I was going to sign anything. I had to have my car fixed.

Current asked me where my car was one day. I explained my problem and that I was riding to and from with Inga. I had borrowed money but hadn't yet found a mechanic to do the work. Really, I didn't have a clue who to call. My mechanic was in Fort Worth but I couldn't afford to have my car towed there. Inga's husband was willing to get the engine and put it in for me. Uh no. He was a car guy. He was a car guy who always fine tuned this and forgot to do that. He could do it on the weekend. I really needed my car yesterday.

Current called me and asked to come to his office. He was my bosses boss now so off I went. He wanted to know the address where my car could be picked up. He had a mechanic with the engine waiting and AAA was taking my car. I wasn't to worry, it was not going to cost more than I could afford. That's all. Done. Inga had told me he was truly amazing and solved problems for his employees when he could. WOW. I expressed my thanks and, damn it, cried just a little. It was just such a relieve to have that off my plate of things to worry about.

What a nice man. He had two adorable sons and one less adorable wife. I had never met her but Inga was full of tales of what a witch Current's wife was. Other people who had worked and lived in the same cities where his family had been based had the same story. He was a doll, she was a witch.

He was a champion of employees. Uncommon in many executives. He could spot winners and wanted them to achieve their potential. He promoted these employees to his peers as his management candidates. I was on the top of his list. He thought I was a problem solving genius. He faced some problems with Nomercy in that area. He called me to his office. I could tell there was something squirmy. "I hate to ask you this but why does Nomercy hate you?"  I gave him a few examples. The remote controller story, my fault. The calling for locals with torches during the now infamous Frankenstein meeting. Small things like that. "Um, have you had a relationship with a Senior Staff member?"  "WHAT?" I asked, "just be clear here. I spent the weekend at Wonder Woman's lake house with my husband once. We have been to her house for dinner....". "No", he said, "this has to do with guitar playing Senior Staff member". "OH, that. I sang with him several times here and in public when I still was in a band so of course I had his baby and we were WILD and sold company secrets".

I told him about my very funny sense of humor and how I was SO kidding. OF COURSE I had not had a relationship with Guitar Senior Staff member. Then I ranted a bit about the double standard of that attitude. That I could rattle off a few names of MEN who had let me know their penis was available. Grrrr, now I was angry. Current assured me he was not backing down. I was his best candidate and he would handle Nomercy. I knew he was fighting an up hill battle. I am not good in an environment where someone wants me to fail and I know I could slit him with my tongue in front of the world and he would be left wondering what I said while people laughed. He was vulnerable when people laughed AT him. No one laughed with him.

I was thrilled to be back in Lady Day, (black Blazer with black interior and some extra black just to be REAL hot in the summer). My attitude was a little better but, damn it, I missed Elsie. Not the Elsie I had been arguing with. The one I fell in love with. I wanted THAT guy. I wanted the fun, easy going, funny NOT falling down Elsie. He wanted the hot, sexyish, eager kitten he had married. I wanted to play slap and tickle with him when he drunk never. He was only interested when he was drunk. I was the bitch who wouldn't put out. He was the drunk who didn't deserve it. We put the funk in dysfunctional.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT ANYONE IN PARTICULAR....
An aside to drunk men everywhere: You are not sexy. Your performance is substandard when you can't remember your name or your partners. Taking a break in mid act is not fun. Screwing for an hour and a half while you try to climax is not fun either. There is not enough pressure on earth to achieve that erection you want so badly. This is based on many discussions with many women. Yes, we talk that way.  Try to stay sober AND don't forget kissing. Sex does not start with boobs. Some day you will thank me. Or just call me a bitch.

PARENTING

I grew up wanting to have children and spoil them rotten. Or at least give them the tools necessary to navigate the very difficult world of growing up. I was not blessed with children so I never imagined the things children would "need". All I can say to you parents out there is: Have you lost your minds?

I'm old and out of touch so of course that makes me a genius. I also have never had to face the, "everyone else has one" or "everyone else does it" argument in the middle of a mall.  Has our generation forgotten what life was like when we were growing up?  I don't know about you but I never had my own car, phone line, television, stereo, or diamond jewelry when I was in high school.  Didn't kill me. My family did not plan our meals around my likes and dislikes. I could not entertain members of the opposite sex in my room. I did not get all the latest fads much less get an upgrade every time one was available. I also had no problem getting into any and all trouble.

Now our entire society revolves around children, They are treated like Kings and Queens of the World. Preschoolers have graduation. Elementary school children dress like Baby Gaga and Baby Rapper. High School Students are unbelievably spoiled. Football players are like the Gods of the Olympiad. Banquets and rallies, and fancy buses to the out of town games. Homecoming is like your first wedding. Mums big enough to cover an entire girl and the multi hundred dollar dress she's wearing. And Prom. My stars, I had to wait until a family member died before I rode in a limo. And, sure stay out all night, I mean everyone does. And get a hotel room that will be safer. And let mommy and daddy pay for it. Now behave. Say What?

Can mommy and/or daddy buy you some booze? We don't want you to get caught so invite all your friends to drink at our house. Mommy and daddy are soooo cool. I hope we get a mention in your high school annual. "Most Likely To Be Prosecuted". 

Don't clean your room honey. You're so busy playing video games. Here let me do the laundry, sweetie. Those knobs and settings are confusing for a college student. How's that car? OH, you want to use ours? Well, or course, we didn't buy you a car to drive it. We want you to drive ours. And please be careful while you're drinking behind the wheel.

Is your cell phone to out of date? Well, OK, use my upgrade and get the most expensive one. I don't want your peers pointing at you. Yes, that TV in your room is kinda small. We'll get you an HDTV and surround sound. What? Your IPod is full? HONEY!!! We must get you another.

OH NO! Sweetie isn't happy. Sweetie is bored. Mommy and daddy must let you do whatever you want so you don't suffer the sadness of life. What? You have an interest in, guns? guitars? motorcycles? computers? pornography? HUGE dogs? Modeling? Dancing? Jet Skis? Travel? Well don't you worry. We will work ourselves to death until you find out which one is your favorite. When you get bored with it we will store all associated equipment for you, forever.

Am I bitter? Yes, indeed. Would my children hate me? I don't know. They would be in their room until their 30th birthdays.

You're Welcome,
Lillybellblues

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier You Want Me To WHAT?

At work I was still the target of our Controller, Nomercy. I was editing the newsletter because of my printing background and my connection to a printing company. That meant Nomercy had to work with me. I felt I knew what people wanted to read and see in the Center newsletter. Nomercy thought it should be all about him, his Mission Statement and his slogan WMB. I believe it stood for World's Meanest Bastard.

His management style was on display during his first lecture, I mean Center wide meeting. One employee stood and asked the following question: "When we have off-site team meetings we have trouble finding people to cover our phones. Can we establish a plan for phone coverage?"  "Sure", said Nomercy. "We will not have off site team meetings so phone coverage will not be necessary".

Not only did this ruin our best meetings and "team building" time it also pointed out another small problem. Our customer calls were answered by whatever administrator got the call. No 800 line, no switchboard, just whoever was around to answer the ringing phone. We were going to set the standard in our Center by creating a team of employees dedicated to answering customer calls. They wanted me to help with this endeavor. They made me the"Specialist". This is a title meaning, "figure it out and let us know what to do".

We were about to have our first off site Center Wide meeting. Nomercy wanted to kick off his reign with pomp and circumstance. The location of our building was not far from a studio. They produce Barney there. I am sure we spent tens of thousands of dollars on this meeting.  The theme was "Academy Awards". Some employees were to receive tiny statues that looked like the Oscar and make little speeches about how grateful they were to be so honored. And thank all the little people and be disappointed they weren't getting recognition money because the meeting cost so much.  Two Senior Staff members called and asked me for a private consultation. They were afraid the meeting was going to bomb and Nomercy would be even more reviled. They wanted me to be, you know, funny. "Write one of your songs....the employees love that. Make it light and, you know, funny". Then when you receive your Oscar be, you know, funny?"

"I think you are putting my head on, you know, the chopping block because Nomercy has, you know, no sense of humor. I need my job and I really don't need him to, you know, like me even less".  These men obviously thought I was, you know, stupid. "NO", they assured me. Nomercy was on board with the employees having fun and poking a little fun at ourselves". Uh huh. "Well, OK, I will write the little song and try to be funny. If he tries to fire me, I expect one of you to insist your department needs me, you know, because I might sue you for, you know, wrongful termination". I was smiling and laughing but I wasn't kidding.

We had the meeting. Nomercy kicked it off with the acceptance of his Oscar for being Most Pompous or whatever, Then he sat on stage for the rest of the meeting while a make-up artist turned him into Frankenstein. No reason why, just because. I was next with my little vocal band. We rocked a parody of Oh Bla Di, Oh Bla Da and finished with a gig at Nomercy's slogan WMB. Frankenstein look mad. I called for locals with torches when I gave my little acceptance Oscar speech. Humor bad. Fire good.

I heard the next workday from my manager that Nomercy was not amused. I called the two senior staff members who had encouraged me to be, you know, funny and asked for a private meeting. "Don't think I will be considered for management here now that I have, you know, followed your advice. Please do not leave me hanging". "Oh, Lillybell, you are so highly thought of blah, blah, blah. Enjoy your new assignment. You will prove your worth there".  Yeah, enjoy your retirement old fart, chicken shit butt heads. The employees loved me. OK not all of them. Some of them thought I was too everything. Management was definitely stepping away from the girl with the target on her back,

All but one. I had a new Senior Staff Manager. Current was going to run my department now that the region was no longer necessary. I was about to have a true champion.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier I Blame Walt Disney

After my very dramatic performance for the Bub's they did not come to my house anymore. Pretty sure they thought I belonged on the Group W Bench and didn't care to have the veins ripped out of their necks. I wanted to give Elsie my ultimatum but I put it off because I just couldn't take what I knew was coming.

We lived in the same house but that is about as close as we were. He all but snarled and I was as passive aggressive as I could be. Slamming things was my specialty. Doors, cabinets, drawers, whatever created that satisfactory "whack". I needed therapy but, really, who has time? Elsie and I tried marriage counseling but I didn't feel comfortable with that process. How could everyone miss how correct I was all the time? I only wanted to be the most important thing in some one's life. Me. Not others, not booze, not drugs, ME. Yes, I was all about me.

I felt certain that if Walt Disney were directing the animated feature of my life I would have come through all the darkness and scary parts and be at the happily ever after part. That just wasn't happening. I was at the, look there is still more crap part.

I hated life. I hated my job. I hated men. I needed a long vacation and someone to tell me I was fine. That it really was everyone else and not me. I needed someone to tell me I was indeed capable and smart and worth every effort on earth. Lots of men wanted to comfort me while we lay naked and I serviced them but that REALLY was not what I was looking for. Not sure why men think "penis" is the answer to everything. I really hoped there wasn't some sort of testosterone born disease that would wipe out the male species but oh well if it did.

I kept waiting for the little happy singing birds to follow me around and the animals of the forest to show me the way. I was certain that the evil witch or troll or king or princess or prince was just about to get his or hers. No. Walt Disney wasn't directing my feature film. Maybe Peckinpah or Fellini but definitely not Disney. I was ready for a new director. Maybe Franco Zeffirelli or Frank Capra.

At least things at work were on an even keel. It was still overwhelming volume wise but I was the expert in my area. That of course meant I was about to get a new assignment and new bosses.

I thought the file project required patience and fancy dancing. What I faced next made that look like a piece of cake.

ANTS and ELEPHANTS

My husband has a saying, "we watch the ants and the elephants walk by". It translates to petty things getting the attention while the major problems are ignored. In this election cycle I feel it is a good time to point out what is and what is not important to citizens. As you know, I plan to rule the universe.

First and foremost. I do not care what your personal religious beliefs are or even if you have any. I am not voting for you to be my religious leader. I would, however, appreciate it if you not comment on my personal beliefs. As I understand it, I was granted the freedom to have those by men, not women of course they didn't count yet, who actually wrote the Constitution. They understood that the government and the church should not be related in any way. This doesn't mean not to revere God. Just don't put Him/Her in office. This also does not mean that atheists have more rights than Christians, Jews, Muslims or Buddists. They just have better lawyers and get more media attention.

We are broke. We need to balance the budget and quit depending on foreign money. Let's create jobs. Let's NOT send jobs overseas because labor is cheaper for big business. Let's incentivize big business to keep jobs here AND create new ones. Big Business works against America and reaps all our benefits. Unions need to chill. You aren't really necessary anymore. This is not the 1920s. Sure, eventually big business will get even more greedy and tramp on your rights and then you can reorganize but for now give it up for America.

Stop the ridiculous war on drugs. It is expensive and after 40 some odd years it is still not working. Legalize marijuana. Tax and regulate it like an adult product. Take the business away from the cartels and create an industry. Harder drugs can be regulated too and/or controlled by the medical profession. I promise not too many people really want to be heroin addicts. Those that do won't have to rob you if they can go to their doctor for a fix.

Oil will not save our ass forever. Eventually there will not be any so let's invest in other forms of energy and untie the chains of foreign oil. We have solar, wind, hydroelectric, nuclear and other forms of power. I don't care to be dependent on people who hate us and raise their prices as the wind blows.

Define "Media". People are so confused. While the "lame stream" media merely reports the news, the "fair and balanced" version seems to come from one source. This is why people think Jon Stewart is the most trusted man in political news. People, he's funny and often right on target but he IS a comedian. Let's limit "news" to an hour a day. All other "news and opinion" should be an optional part of your cable or satellite package.

I do not want to hear what is wrong with your opponent. I want to know if you have a brain, can think on your feet, string together an intelligent sentence and NOT just repeat rhetoric. I do not want to hear the same thing over and over. Have a real debate not a pissing contest.

Never speak for my gender. If you are not a woman do not tell me what it is like and how I should behave. Do not tell me that I have to have a child that will suffer tremendously because of birth defects. Do not tell me I have to have a child because a man raped me. Do not tell me I have to have a baby I cannot afford because I was abandoned by baby daddy. DO feel free to tell baby daddy he will have to support my child and be responsible and not just be a sperm donor.

DO NOT let the NRA interpret the second amendment. It has nothing to do with the ability to own every weapon known to man. DO NOT tell me that guns don't kill people that people kill people. I can counter with, "knives dont' cut meat, people cut meat", the knives just make it SO much easier.

Try not to look like a rich pompous ass. We all know you are but somehow it just makes you  more creepy. Think John Edwards - yuck.

Be a statesman/woman who would make me proud. Do not be wishy-washy and kiss your base's rear end. Tell them to grow up. Times are tough. We are supposed to be AMERICANS who can accomplish anything not just play nanny, nanny boo-boo across the aisle.

You're Welcome,
Lillybellblues

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier I'llbetheredirectly....please don't

One Tuesday night Elsie was out and I was at home trying to sleep. I would sleep at any hour I was blessed with it and this night I was on the sofa. Around 9:30 the pone rang and woke me up. "Here'thedealI'llbehomedirectlyleavingsoonseeya".  Great. I went to the bedroom knowing he was likely to come home and play the stereo slightly louder than a B-52 taking off. Finally drifted back to sleep when the phone rang.
"ReallyIamleavingrightnowIwillbetheresoon". Whatever.

Tried to sleep and couldn't. Got up and turned on the television and watched something boring hoping it would bore me to sleep. Phone rang. "Here'sthedealIstoppedbyBub'sandtherearepeopleherebutIwillbetheredirectly".
 "Please, don't", I said. "Don't call back and don't come home. I need some sleep and now I will have to get up in about two and a half hours so please just leave me alone".  Phone rings. "Youmad?", he said like I was having an issue. I hung up. No sleep now. Now my blood was boiling. I was going to kill something and eat it raw. Phone rings. I unplugged it.

The hell with it. I got up and showered, did hair and make up, got dressed in my power suit and high heels.
Got my briefcase. Left my husband a note. Something like."FUCK YOU, DO NOT CALL ME WHEN I AM SLEEPING AND YOU ARE DRUNK. Love, Lillybell".

I got in my car and headed out of the the driveway to go to work. I would be there real early today. I could get so much accomplished before the whiners started calling and lining up at my desk. I was thoroughly planning my day when I pulled into The Lead Bub's driveway.  I pounded on the door. The double the fist and beat on the door until your hand is bruised and tingles for the rest of the day door pound. There was music and laughter on the other side. Then silence. Then the sound of many people hoovering up the cocaine. "Cops", I heard The Lead Bub say. "Mywife" slurred Elsie.  The door opened. "He'llberightouthewasjustheadinghome".  "No". I stepped past him and strode into the den of inequity.

Drunks and coke heads and a chippie or two. I started pacing back and forth and explained to each and everyone of them why they were the lowest form of life. I loudly expressed my displeasure with the owner of the party house and told him maybe he should get a job so he wouldn't lose his house, (he did). I advised others that living with mommy and daddy was really not appealing to the hot babes they want so much so maybe they should, you know, get off their fat, drunk, lazy asses and find work or panhandle. I went on to explain how I really never wanted any of them in my house ever again. They were welcome to keep Elsie. He was worthless anyway. At the point I almost left. One of the chippies was almost crying and curling up closer to a bub. I told her her night's honey was married AND I would call his wife as soon as I got to work.

You know that song, "I don't want to spoil the party so I'll go"? Mine was more like, "I just want to ruin the party so I'll stay".  I flung a few more insults and personal digs before taking my leave.

Insomnia makes you do crazy things. I was tired of other people's drinking problems. I barely drank and alcohol had made my life miserable more than once. I thought about a one woman intervention. I figured it had all the chances of a snowball surviving hell. I decided I would ask Elsie to choose. Me or the lifestyle of a drunk. Pretty sure I knew the answer.

I started preparing myself mentally for the inevitable.

Hello pit.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Thank Heaven for Friends

The most relief I got from my stress was spending time with Shaneequa and Bubba. We could kvetch and laugh about everything. One morning Bubba was having a bad day, talking about how tragic his childhood was, (it was), and how it always hurt his feelings when his long deceased mother would call him stupid when he was a boy. Shaneequa and I did the appropriate clucking and cooing and being sorry for him. Then we went to have breakfast before work. When the waitress asked if we were ready to order Shaneequa relied, "I am, how about you, stupid?"  Love her.

This is why Bubba should hate me. I introduced him to his second wife who happened to be certifiably nuts. I set them up on their first date and things were great. Then they were not. I introduced Crazy Lady to another guy at work and they dated a little. I didn't know she was crazy. Neither did Bubba. He didn't want to date her. He didn't want her to date anyone else. How very man. Bubba quit speaking to me. I asked him what his problem was, not quite that nicely, and he whined about never finding the right woman and it could have been "her" but now she was dating someone else I introduced her to. I had no business interfering. Excuse me? "You DON'T want to date her, just have her hang around until you what? Find that 24 year old stripper. Keep her as a "just in case" girl?" Yeah, don't hold your breath. "You know, we women just don't do that any more, most of you aren't worth it".

Well, they got married and were happy for about 15 minutes. Quick divorce. Then Bubba would speak to me again. That probably wouldn't last long. One lunch hour and a half or two, Bubba and I went for a drive in his car that he couldn't quite afford. He started his lament. "Why can't I find a young, beautiful woman who worships the ground I walk on and thinks I hung the moon?" "I want someone like her". he said pointing to a billboard.

OH THANK YOU GOD! YOU JUST MADE ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS I WILL SAVOUR FOREVER. The woman on the billboard was Golden Girl. Ruby's daughter, now a model for a major nation wide brewer. OH BOY! "You want me to call her?", I asked. "I know her. Known her since she was a little girl. I will be happy to call and see if she is tired of dating men with money, actors and the handsome straight models. If so, I will tell her about YOU. Fortyish, almost able to pay his bills, can almost see his feet when he stands up and should have hair for a few more years". "You don't know her", he said. "Yes, I do. She is like my niece. I will call her mom right now if you want. I think Golden Girl might be in Europe...ahhh, poor thing". "Really?", he said. "You would call her about me?"

This is where I told Bubba what, what. "You are such a man. Hell no she wouldn't want to go out with you. You could be her daddy and she  would rather vomit that even consider going out with you. LOOK at her. She can pick and choose any man she wants. And she does. And it would NEVER be you. You are too OLD for her, Aqualung. When you get back to your desk, you might want to avoid inhaling the pixie dust that obviously permeates your office".

I know how to win friends and influence people. AND he still likes me.

Shaneequa was my rock. She listened to every sad story about the drinking, the SNORING, the inconsideration. She of course told me I was correct about all things seeing as how she and I are both perfect. It's a burden, but we handle it gracefully.

One weekend the four of us, Elsie, me, Shaneequa and her husband, Grumpy, went to Austin for a weekend at Ruby's house. Elsie and I slept upstairs. Shaneequa and Grumpy had the very comfortable sofa. In the middle of the night I got up, went downstairs, made a pallet and slept on the floor by the sofa. In the morning Shaneequa told me, "you know, I thought maybe you were just being bitchy about the snoring thing. I mean lots of people snore but that noise Elsie makes is not human. It is prehistoric. It is teeth shattering". Yes, and it doesn't go well with insomnia.

Elsie started becoming unreasonable in my opinion. I became the bitch of the world. If he wanted me to work he had to give me a break somewhere. "Please, can we move?" We could move to Arlington close to Kia and your Mom. Your drive would still be after traffic and a straight shot to Ft, Worth". "No, hell no", Elsie said. "My house and I am  not moving, why should I? Quit your damn job."

The he decided he would no longer smoke cigarettes at home. He smoked all day. I couldn't smoke at work, I smoked at home. He started complaining that it was nasty. My cigarettes smelled bad. Would I please stop?  No

Then it started becoming the norm on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning he and I would pass in the hall as he was coming home and I was going to work. Wednesday was his day off so Tuesdays were party til dawn nights.

One Tuesday night he made the mistake of calling, repeatedly, to tell me he would be home soon. Bad plan. By the end of that night-morning I would ruin my marriage and alienate all of Elsie's friends.

Revorce, here we go again.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Not A Good Question, Ever

Inga and I started arriving at work around 5:30 a.m. Current could churn out some work. He always took the notes in every meeting. Copious notes we called them. Little teeny tiny writing that made my head hurt to look at when I got something handwritten from him. Current arrived around the same time we did. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later. On Fridays Inga and I would sit at her desk on the twenty second floor and watch the sun rise and eat donuts and have diet colas. The diet counter acted the calories in the donuts. And we also walked about three miles a day a piece between meetings on eleventy different floors.

One Friday Current arrived with diet sodas and donuts. Freebies! We went into his office and shared company blah, blah, blah, and then I said something about Jethro Tull. I turned to Current and explained who they were. He looked like I had kicked him. "How old do you think I am?". LORD, never ask that question. Ummm, "42?", I said guessing low. No, 37. OH. "Well, guess I have a resignation letter to prepare, so I will take my leave."  "Really? 42?". I explained that when I see the executives in suits and ties and shiny shoes and fancy briefcases I think 50. I explained that sometimes my husband wore shoes. Not often, but when necessary. Urp. I was rather embarrassed. He seemed to get it. I think he was born looking 50. He still looks 50ish.

Other things were changing at work. Evil had entered our presence. Maybe I am slightly stretching the truth. We got a new Controller. His name was Nomercy. He came from somewhere up north. He had an ivy league attitude and a slight stutter with the letter C. He was dictatorial. He was pompous. He thought he was THE MAN. His first day he had a Center wide meeting to talk about himself. It went something like: I am Your cacacaController. You will respect Your cacacaController. You vill show us your papers, you vil speak when spoken to, you vil have no opinion or input. You vil be punctual. I am THE cacacaController. That's how it sounded anyway. I said under my breath, "too bad he's not a remote controller". People snickered. I felt the finger of fate point at me. Smart Ass. Smart Ass in the audience. This vil not happen. This vil never happen again, EVER!  Yes, I was number one on the list of things that needed to be indoctrinated. I'm not good at that.

People were in a snit. This was new. He was a, well, prick. No one but his minions could stomach him. His own staff was in hell. He wanted to know who I was and who I worked for and what my position was. I believe he wanted to make an example out of me. I wanted to be invisible. Nomercy put a target on my back. He was going to make changes immediately. He wanted a Center wide newsletter so he could spread his vast knowledge and vision to the masses. Anyone with a background in that area? Indeed. Me.

One of the senior managers in the building was a generation older than me but he was an old time musician. He had cut his teeth on the Everly Brothers and The Lettermen. He had played in a band in the late fifties or early sixties. Once bitten, always addicted. He and his wife would come see us play when we were still performing in public and he would play set breaks once in a while. At work we had a Holiday talent show that all departments participated in. Skits, singers, dancers, departmental humor. I always sang with someone and/or alone. This year I sang with that senior manager. You know what that means. Yes, I was pregnant with his baby and we were having an affair to end all affairs and we were stealing company secrets and I was a whore. Or we were just singers. It depended on your perspective. Ah, just like junior high. I was so happy.

I had insomnia that was life threatening. I almost never slept. Still driving and driving and driving and working and working and working and NOT sleeping. Made me cranky and even more fun to live with. I so needed some relief. By now I had three weeks vacation and 5 personal holidays. I was vested. 401-K with company matched investment. Soon I would have 4 weeks paid vacation and 5 personal holidays. I wasn't letting go of my time off. When you work hard enough to lose your mind vacation is very important. I took mental health days when needed. Still, my brain never shut up. I needed to be two people or I was going to explode.

Poor Elsie. I wasn't very sympathetic with his woes at work or on the golf course. I was slightly resentful that on a good day he could watch TV all day and laugh and have cocktails with Kia and whomever else was hanging that day. I could barely put one high heel in front of the other. Elsie started complaining about how much money I spent. I needed professional clothes, shoes, nails, purses, briefcase, the trappings of the wannabes. It was how they did it then. Yes, it was expensive. I also had a job that paid for most of what I needed. Once I had all the wardrobe I could scale back. We weren't hurting for money. We were some of the few people I knew that had money. I like to share. I can get quite generous with little provocation. Elsie found this habit really irritating. I couldn't help it. I can't stand to see people in need if I can help a little.

I did not feel this way about the collection of dudes I called, "the Bubs". They liked to hang out and drink our booze but especially smoke our pot. Yeah, get a job. Quit living with your parents. Sooner or later those DTs are gonna getcha. And then there was lots of, "here'sthedealIremeberwhenwewenttothedealandthesmearthing". And a louder voice, "nononoitwasthethingandthedealwththewatchacallithing". LAUGHTER. Not from me. Eye rolling from me. I could recite these stories. Do all the parts and bitch slap everyone verbally in a single shot.

Not popular at work. Not popular at home. Still self righteous.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Meanwhile, Back at the Comet Cans

By now Xerox had completed moving all the branches into the Center. At this point Xerox decided to change the name from Customer Administration Center to Customer Service Center. This makes a HUGE difference. No, it doesn't. It just requires new printed everything, signs, letterhead, envelopes, business cards, any and all things that already said Customer Administration Center. I can only imagine the number of executives it took to make that decision not to mention the amount of money.

The sad news for me was that I had to work for a new boss. Wonder Woman was moving on to bigger and better things. I was going to be working for a woman that many people confused with a retired U.S. Marine. Turned out she was awesome, she just had the ability to make you sweat with a well phrased question. She barked orders and employees were tempted to reply, "Sir, yes, Sir, I MEAN MA'AM". She did not have many personal skills and she did not communicate well, written or verbally. That became part of my job. I wrote all her memos, presentations and most often delivered them for her.

The file purge and new side tab system project was almost complete so that was a sure sign something would change that would create a new headache. I was stunned when I learned what the fly in the ointment was. The sales organizations still in the field were so unhappy that they could not deal face to face with their order administrators, they could not bribe them with goodies to get their orders installed long distance, so Xerox was moving approximately one third of the people from the Center back to the field. WHAT? This is a good plan? The sales reps can't suck it up and get their orders in on time? No, the company will spend a zillion more dollars to move 'em out. Can't have sales be unhappy.

This created a small problem for me. Files would now have to be shared from the Center to the field and vice-versa. This meant a new medium to store documents. All those 80 zillion files would have to be scanned and put on microfilm. New files would have to be sent in from the field to be scanned or scanned there for quick access at the Center.

Of course this could not be just done. It required many more dog and pony shows and begging for money. I was so tempted to just do an entire presentation on how much smoother things would run if we could reduce the number of presentations by half AND not have to beg for company money to solve company problems.

Oh, well, by now Xerox had a whole new concept. We were going to be NICE to customers. This plan was a last ditch effort to retain some business. Those employees who dealt with irate customers everyday were disappointed. No more telling the customer to pay up or else. No more waiting several months to resolve issues. We were going to act like our business depended on customers. REVOLUTIONARY! Of course this required training and meetings and classes and millions of dollars to teach people how to work together and be nice to customers, internal or external. We employees were lucky to coax out a one percent raise while the  Mother Corporation was busy polishing and rolling out their "Quality Process". That equates to many, many more dog and pony shows only now we had to compete with other "Quality" producers in an annual Team Work Day! Expensive Dog and Pony Shows! Money could be spent anywhere but on the employees salaries.

Of course most of this training and preening and strutting was done in your spare, spare time. You had to carry your workload and participate and learn Quality and NEVER work overtime. Just too expensive for the company. So to be a suck-cess you worked for free, under the radar with the full knowledge of your boss. If you were lucky your manager would give you comp time but that was against policy so not all bosses did this. It you really busted your butt and worked yourself almost to death, you might get a plaque. Sometimes a check. I received a recognition check for the work I did for three or four years fixing the Corporation's file problems. I received an extra fifteen hundred dollars, minus taxes. I figure the hundreds of hours I worked for free was worth at least that. Of course I got a plaque too.

My friend Inga was getting a new boss too. She would be Current's Admin Aide now that he no longer had to be on a plane everyday. She was very apprehensive about this assignment. Rumor was Current could produce more work in an hour than most executives do in a day. He was also supposed to have very high expectations and did not tolerate people who couldn't meet those expectations. I told Inga I had a meeting with him once and he was very nice and seemed like he would be great to work for or with. She was skeptical but would keep an open mind,

Wonder Woman invited a few people over for dinner as a personal thank you for those of us who had literally given blood, sweat and tears for this women. She and her husband had just built a beautiful new home where rich people live. Zelda was invited and Elsie too. Dinner was on a Friday night so we all met at our house after work to drive across the Metroplex to Wonder Woman's house.

Elsie wore cut offs, a tee and no shoes. He refused to wear shoes. To my bosses house. For dinner. With other people present. REALLY? "Please wear shoes", should not be a question or a favor to ask of your nearly forty year old husband. "No, wore shoes all day". "Elsie, you have to wear shoes". "Nope". We agreed he would take his sneaks and put them on in the car once we got to Wonder Woman's new house. As soon as she opened the door, Elsie announced he was not happy to be wearing shoes. She, of course being a polite hostess, told him to feel free to be barefoot on her beautiful white carpet. All he needed was a piece of straw hanging out of his mouth to complete the picture. I was ready to be grown up. He was ready to stay a boy just like Peter Pan. 

I just couldn't give up on my third marriage. THIRD MARRIAGE. Even I thought I belonged in a junk yard now. Maybe I expected to much. Maybe forty year old men don't wear shoes when invited to some one's home. Maybe cut offs and an "If I leave here tomorrow, will you still remember me" tee shirt with a cowboy hatted human skull emblazoned on the front was all the rage.

It was not just Elsie. All of our male friends, with a few exceptions, had drinking problems and/or cocaine problems and/or no job. I was going to save them. Not with religion, not with AA, not with concern. I was going to save them by making them shake in their boots and beg for mercy.

They just didn't know it yet and neither did I.

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Pretty Sure I'm Dying

When Elsie wasn't drunk and I wasn't bitchy we really had fun.  The music, playing together was a gas. Traveling with Elsie was always fun. We laughed so hard sometimes I couldn't breathe. I love a man with a sense of humor. I love a man who loves a sense of humor. Mine.

Elsie was quite the yard guy. He believed in letting nature do it's thing but keeping it at bay. Our yard looked like a little tropical world. He could grow dead plants. I could kill the healthiest weed in the universe. Still we somehow seemed to fit. I could see us growing old together. Or killing each other.

Playing in bars added to my frustration with drunks. It is a unique perspective. On stage observing the crowd. Perfectly sober and fun people become loud and obnoxious. People get so drunk they can't walk a straight line. Weaving to the bathrooms was very common. Groups of people weaving to the bathrooms at the same time very common. Cocaine is a bathroom habit. YAY, wired drunks! Drunks get loud because everything they have to say is important. We weren't singing club rock, we were a vocal band, acoustic, a group to listen to. Oh well, I was happy to just hold one table's attention. We would always say, "thank you table 7", when the crowd was LOUD with great stories of the time the guy picked up the transvestite in New Orleans and when "disagreements" happened. Yeah, it was still fun but sad to watch.

I had learned early in my time on stage that drinking alcohol was a hindrance to performance. Falling off the stool is a distraction and the audience never thinks it's part of the show. Had to sleep in the car for a while that night. This is when I learned about "the spins".  No thank you. Never again.

I felt stretched to my limit and Guitar Man had a problem that annoyed me. He thought he was perfect and a STAR and I often wanted to vomit on him. I hate that attitude. There is no "I" in band. There is however "bad". I was starting to want him to shut up bad. One day he disappeared. No goodbye, no wishing us dead, just gone. OK, I was too tired anyway. I had one last on stage thrill. One night my parents came to see us play and brought some of their friends. When the time came for Summertime which was now done in honor of Jeff with a cello moan that could make you weep I nailed it. The crowd rose as one and gave me standing O. With my daddy there. And his friends. So much for note sliding sounding bad. Pretty sure he was proud. He didn't so much say that as stand himself to applaud his little girl.

I also had one more off stage thrill. People would hang out until the bar closed and ask you to please snort their cocaine. Well, OK. If I must. One night someone invited us to a party after our last set. Cool, we were wired anyway. When we arrived at least an ounce of cocaine had been lined out on a huge table with straws everywhere. Helpy selfy. I did. Can't let the cocaine be left over. That's just wrong.

Bad plan. Leave the cocaine. Do not make sure it is all gone. Just a piece of advice from a former snorter.

When Elsie and I got home I was freezing and sweating bullets. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it wasn't beating at all. I was mute. No way to express how I was feeling. The ringing in my ears was constant and seemed so loud, like a beehive in my head. When I could finally talk I sounded very far away. I had my deathbed request ready:  "DO NOT LET MY PARENTS KNOW I DIED FROM A COCAINE OVERDOSE". "Just tell them I ran away with another man. They will believe that. Bury me in the back yard, PLEASE".

Elsie assured me I would live and left me in my semi-coma to go to bed and crash. I promised every God I could think of that I would never, ever touch cocaine again if only I didn't die right then, however, if I was going to die, please get it over with.

That was the end of my cocaine problem. No straw has penetrated my nostrils since that day.

Drinking problem got worse and soon every one of Elsie's friends thought my head should be displayed on a pike. I wanted to be their moral compass too. They were not at all appreciative.

FOR TREVOR

Trevor,

I only saw you twice. You were just adorable. You and your brother were so close people told me you were twins. I believed it. For a little boy you were a big guy and your light shined so bright.

We had to say goodbye to you yesterday. Your family was so sad and so strong for you. So many people came to say goodbye. You just had a world of friends. So many beautiful words were said and so much love and pain filled your church. You got your family through it, little man. Your heart was big enough to hold them all.

Though I hardly knew you, I will never forget you. You touched me too. You made me see how precious life is and how petty we big people can be. Thank you for that, Trevor, it's a great lesson to learn.

Sleep in Heavenly peace.
An admirer

CUSTOMER SERVICE? HOW ABOUT CUSTOMER IRRITATION...

I worked in Customer Service. I supervised 22 people on a customer service 800 line for a huge corporation. A Malcolm Baldridge Award winning corporation. For those of you who do not know or care that is an award for not being stupid. They don't state it that way, it's something about quality service but believe me it's basically the same. We had customer service reps staffed to answer calls within 20 seconds AND the person answering the phone could usually help you.

The knowledge I gained in this job makes me the worst customer on earth.

As a favor to all of you let me give you one valuable piece of information. Always call the 800 line twice. If you get the same answer, that is company policy. Exceptions and letters and headaches will follow if you want anything changed. If you get two different answers, you're safe. Refund, credit on your account, or the reason for your call should end in your favor. Speak to the supervisor and advise him/her you have spoken to "Ann" and "Bob" and received two different answers. You will have a great day. Ann and Bob will be getting a letter in their file.

Calling an 800 line and speaking to someone in a foreign country is the norm. The only way to change this as Americans and to return these jobs to America is to refuse to do business with the company. If you have no choice, sit down, write a letter or email and explain to everyone important why you will not call their 800 line, "the people are impossible to understand and they read from a script. They are not making decisions, they are reading". After corporate American is drowning in complaints, and NOT growing their business, they will have a vision: "I know, let's hire Americans to talk to Americans. It will be  revolutionary". The person with this vision will earn in the millions for his/her brilliance.

Corporations who build your call centers in America: Go to Detroit, The Mid West, anywhere other than a coast. Labor is cheaper and tax breaks are bigger. There are unlimited small cities that probably would pay for jobs. I DID NOT GO TO COLLEGE. I HAVE NO DEGREE IN BUSINESS. Unfortunately, I have common sense which makes everyone crazy.

Corporate America, here is a hint. It is not a good idea to keep a customer on hold listening to either horrible music or a litany of other products and services you would like us to pay for and still receive bad service. But the most important lesson you need to learn: Do not tell me how important my call is. If it was important, you would answer it. After 10 minutes of hearing how important my call is I can assure your service representative will be talking to a now angry customer.

It isn't just service on the phone, it's face to face service. You know those commercials for home improvement stores where the employees know everything? The employees in the big box stores around me know one word, "Uh...". I bought my husband a new grill and had to show Mr. Handy Man where the boxed ones were located in the store. Helpful? Yes! For him.

I was in a major department store after the holidays when the store was having a "HUGE up to 70% OFF Sale". I won't name names but it rhymes with "Racey's".  There  must have been 6 check out stands in the department and NOT ONE was staffed. I heard a man from across the aisle yell, "will someone please take my money?".  I applauded him from my position.

I had an AC unit go out this summer. I had a unit go out last summer. Five year old units with warranties and maintenance contracts that I pay $300.00 a year for. Apparently when they manufacture these VERY EXPENSIVE units whose name rhymes with "Bane", they use the lowest bidders capacitors that are not built to withstand heat. WHAT?  I called to express my displeasure and was hung up on by customer relations, lied to about who is in charge and was told they don't have email, They are getting a letter. Hand written and very professional, with a copy to the BBB and any and all organizations I can find dealing with the HVAC industry and for good measure the State Attorney General. Could be me, but pretty sure air conditioning should work in the heat. Air conditioning that works in the cold is redundant.

I assume this blog will become a series as rancid customer service is everywhere and never fails to get my attention.

You're Welcome.

REALITY TeeVee...Really?

I am getting ready to alienate some of you, I just know I am but I can't keep it to myself anymore. There is no REALITY TeeVee. There is cheap production programming that we as a society appear to lick up like a kitty does cream. I am sorry to be the one to tell you that some of the programming you watch is, well, crap.

I don't have a problem with crap. I watch crap. I love American Pickers and Pawn Stars and Antiques Roadshow. That is mainly because I want to know if I might have inherited anything of value or if The S&H Green Stamp store has become chic in some way.

Where to begin.

THE BIGGEST LOSER.
I admire anyone who can conquer any kind of severe personal problem. I do not want to watch it however. Not sure putting people who are obese on camera in shorts, sports bras and/or shirtless to prove they are fat is necessary. Also, you don't really need zero body fat trainers yelling at you and treating you like farm animals. Being humiliated on national television can't be enjoyable. I encourage everyone to live a healthy lifestyle and find your comfortable weight. Please don't make me watch.

THE BACHELOR AND  BACHELORETTE
I don't know about you but I never cared to compete with 20 plus other women for one ego driven man. Who else would be on television? An actor, model wannabe or  Celebuman. AND Bachelor contestants those women want to be famous too. Actress, model, stripper, or a guest on the talk shows. Reality is NOT living in a house with women who all want the same man. Reality is knowing the man you want is dating twenty other women and you don't know their names. You really don't want to be roommates with any of these women. AND Bachelorette. I remember being courted by twenty-some-odd men at once, no wait, that's just odd men throughout my life. All those plane trips and yacht rides and handsome men begging for you, yeah, NOT reality. Those men all have a tattoo that says, "Committmentphobe".

AMERICAN IDOL
I went to high school with people who can out-sing 99% of the "Idols".  I really don't think an artist needs to be insulted and embarrassed on national TV.  Many. many people can sing. It takes something else to be a musician and/or a star. Andy Warhol must laugh at the universe everyday.

DANCING WITH THE STARS
Shouldn't they just call it, "Dancing With The Has-Beens and Incredibly Good Looking Professionals"? And over bearing, "r" rolling, loud judges...not necessary.

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF ANYWHERE
Seriously? Does anyone think this is REAL. Uh huh.
None of these women just want to be on TeeVee to be outrageous. None of them want to be famous and promote personal products. They have cat fights in real life everyday. That's why they have so many friends. I have met one or two women in my entire life that are as outrageous as these characters but they were later diagnosed with personality disorders.

SWAMP anything, HAND FISHING anything, PEST CONTROL anything, WORLD'S DIRTIEST JOBS, I CAN EAT MY WEIGHT IN FOOD. Stupid. Is there a direct connection between the number of teeth and the oddness the profession? I know that sounds rude. That's because it is. If you are on TeeVee, you can afford to see a dentist. If not, you are not getting paid enough to be rastlin' gators in your wife-beater or flannel plaid.

ALL POLITICAL OPINION SHOWS
NOT reality. Opinion. One sided opinion about any and all things. Not news, not reality, not truth. It's called propaganda. In the fifties we feared the Communist propaganda, now we feed on American propaganda like it is a life force. NOT one. Have you noticed how many people in the "media" hawk their book on air? Can you see Walter Cronkite closing with, "and that's the way it is. Buy my book"? OPINION, get one of your own or I will let you have mine.

That is a threat.  :)

Peace?

ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Here'sthedeal

I mentioned earlier that I started hating drunks and then I confessed I had a drinking problem. That was a tease. I had a drinking problem but I was married to it. It was most assuredly my problem. Elsie had no problem with it at all. I did not look forward to coming home from work after 14 hours to find out that cocktail hour had started at 11:00 a.m. and continued until the store closed at 6:00 p.m. I wanted to have a conversation with someone who did not speak in one word sentences, "IamsorryIdrankalittletoomuchatleastwehavesomebeerinthefridgesoIdon'tlosemybuzz". That is the closest I can come to describing the slur

And the snoring that followed the drinking. MERCY! I had no idea people could make that noise. NO ONE ELSE ON EARTH SNORES THIS LOUD. I know you think I am incorrect, however, I present as my argument the following:

One evening in the spring or fall when you can sleep with the windows open and not die from the heat, you Texans know the three or days a year I am talking about, Elsie and I had the bedroom windows open. The neighbors called and asked us to close the window closest to their house because of the snoring.

I could get up, close the bedroom door, walk down the hall, close that door, lie on the sofa and pile pillows on my head and still hear the snoring.  Olympic Gold Medal Winning Snorer.

The drive to and from work was starting to kill me. Really, making me crazy. I needed a break somewhere in my life. I thought it would be nice if my husband and I sold the house WE were paying for and moved to the mid cities and split the drive to our work places. Elsie thought I should find another job in Fort Worth and then quit my job at Xerox. He was never leaving HIS house. His cold dead butt would be dragged from HIS house. 

I have been told that I can win any stubborn contest. Elsie is my equal. We dug in and went to war for years over many things. His drinking, my intolerance to his drinking, my bitchiness from being exhausted, his unwillingness to give an inch. I wasn't giving up my job and our benefits. He wasn't giving up being 16 and staying in his house forever.

Still I loved this man. I wanted to find a way to make this THIRD marriage work. I thought I could compromise but I found I was much, much better at bitchy. This marriage was going to work if it killed me, Elsie and anyone else who got in the way.  We were going to be happy, damn it. I will complain and whine until said happiness was ensured. He would drink more and more to make sure I had something to bitch about.

Little things began to make me wish I owned a gun. One night or early morning I awoke to the sound of running water. Must be a plumbing leak and it sounded like a big one. "Elsie", I said, "you hear that?'  no response.  "Elsie? where are you? what are you doing?"  A small voice said, "camping?". Nope, peeing in the corner of the bedroom. That didn't make me happy but I did find out what a near stroke feels like. "YOU ARE PISSING IN THE CORNER. STOP!!!".  "too late", said a tiny voice.

One spring we were so excited about vacation. We had a new Chevy Blazer and we were going to the mountains with cameras in tow. Leaving early Saturday morning to drive across West Texas without having to see much of it. Elsie came home and said, "here'sthedeal", standing and bobbing and weaving on his feet, "Iamgoingtopackthecarweareleavingtonight".  I explained that I was more likely to poke myself in the eye than get in a car and head across West Texas with him drunk as a skunk. "Youcandrive", he thought, perfect! No, I had been up since 3:30 or 4:00 a.m. and I was packing and sleeping, in that order.  "FineIwillleaveyouhere", said Elsie and he proceeded to pack the Blazer.

First we needed to take the Hibatchi just in case we were going to cook out in a National Forest. And that meant kindling. He packed the entire back end of the vehicle with sticks and tree limbs before he passed out. In the morning he couldn't figure out what happened to the truck.  Yeah! Let's drive across America!

Yes, my drinking problem was getting worse but my cocaine problem was just about to kill me.