Boss HATES cats. I discovered this fact within just a couple of months of working for him. It was a topic that came up naturally, in the course of casual, relaxed conversation. But since Zilla didn’t have the benefit of a couple of month’s worth of casual, relaxed conversation with Boss, she didn’t get the memo that Boss despises felines.
Now, don’t misunderstand this chronicle to be a personal judgment call against cats. I’m not exactly a cat lover, but my lack of affection has more to do with discovering severe allergies to cat dander as a child, and having a Dh and a whole houseful of children who share that identical ailment. Nevertheless, we tried to have a cat as a pet several years back. She was a sweet cat, and she had a litter of the cutest kittens you ever saw….. to all of which we were highly allergic. As an alternative to tearing our eyes out , she and her brood had to go. We had given cat ownership the old college try, but we’re just not cat people. So please, no offense. But whether or not MY family loves cats is irrelevant anyway; I just wanted you to know where I’m coming from.
Boss’ hate does not seem to be allergy-related in any way. He just can’t abide cats. He doesn’t like how dainty they are, he doesn’t like how snooty they are, he doesn’t like the way their food or their litter boxes smell, how they bathe or how their hair floats in the air and clings to everything in sight. Maybe that makes him more aloof and unfriendly than the cats he blames for those traits, but you gotta give him credit for recognizing that he NEVER wanted to have a pet cat.
Zilla LOVES cats, and had been attached to the same one for something like sixteen years, a tiny little female that looked more like a kitten than a full-grown adult. Up until the very week before the wedding, Boss had no clue. How this morsel of information escaped him is beyond me, but given that the first instance he ever laid eyes on Zilla’s home was when they entered it to announce their engagement to her parents, and the first time Zilla ever glimpsed Boss’ home was in the short period of days between the engagement and the wedding, the subject of their respective pet preferences was apparently never broached.
Boss arrived at the office one morning and queried dully, “Guess what? Zilla has a cat ,” knowing that I would fully comprehend what a profound calamity this was for him. I surmised he’d just made this dreadful discovery via a phone conversation with Zilla, and needed to get it off his chest. “What are you going to do?” I asked, wondering if he’d somehow offer to substitute a cute little dog for Zilla’s cat , and pseudo-charitably offer for the cat to remain in the home it had always known. “Oh, it’s coming with her. It’s going to live with us,” Boss drawled thoughtfully, as though he was even then trying to hammer out a way to avoid it. Dh later admitted that he and Boss had some fun with the matter over lunch one day, when they each crafted appalling scenarious about various “accidents” that might befall the poor thing when Zilla wasn’t looking.
Definitely too kind-hearted to carry out any of those plans (I think), Boss resigned himself to his most dreaded pet scenario. Zilla moved her stuff over to Boss’ with a trailer. She set up the litter box and scattered cat toys to make Kitty feel familiar and secure. Kitty stayed with Zilla’s parents during the honeymoon, but once the happy couple came home, so did Kitty.
Poor Boss. It was quite an adjustment. Zilla put up the Christmas tree. Kitty took it down. Numerous times. She was either very playful or traumatized from the sudden move. Kitty was gnawing on the tree lights, batting glass ornaments around the house until they smashed into smithereens against the wall. No need for a cat bed. Kitty slept with Boss and BPzilla. Since Kitty was getting a little age on her, she wasn’t so fastidious anymore. Boss reported the abject horror of finding little chunks of kitty litter (and occasionally worse) on his pillow and in his sheets at night.
Now, if you really think about this, given Pregzilla’s germ-o-phobic status, the fact that she could even momentarily tolerate living with this cat is nothing short of amazing. Consider this: She couldn’t stand to sit at a desk at the office that wasn’t thoroughly disinfected, yet she had no issue with Kitty traipsing all over the house with litter-y feet. She later ripped out an entire roomful of carpet because of a busted light bulb, but stepping on a ralphed-up hair ball on the way to the bathroom at night was okay by her.
Except that Kitty wasn’t supposed to puke up hair balls. And she basically stopped attacking the Christmas tree and took to sitting, entranced, right next to it, stupefied by the lights. It was cute for a while, but then Boss and Zilla realized that something was wrong with Kitty. So, though they could ill-afford the bills, Kitty was taken to the veterinarian for treatment, again, and again, and again, and again. Kitty had some kind of surgery, even though she was growing elderly and the vet advised putting her to sleep. Then Kitty needed follow-up care, and expensive medicine. Kitty became incontinent.
By way of some sort of poetic irony, since Pregzilla was well, pregnant; BOSS had to be the one to change the litter, administer the medicine and clean up the accidents.
Finally, Kitty was admitted to the veterinarian office as an inpatient with, if I remember correctly, acute kidney failure. Boss was beside himself about the cost, and the futility, but he didn’t open his piehole about it because Pregzilla was beside herself about the cat. I mean she was hysterical. He couldn’t even discuss it with her. She refused to admit to herself or anyone else that her little cat, however dear, had attained its life expectancy. She seriously just wasn’t rational. But then, you have to take into account; it’s Pregzilla – is she EVER?
Days went past, and the poor cat got graver and graver. Boss was doing his level best to be compassionate as the bills mounted. Whatever emotional spectacle Zilla had made of herself, it had affected Boss to the extent that he wasn’t touching the vet decision-making with a ten foot pole.
Fortuitously for Zilla, they’d stumbled upon a vet whose policy was that as long as the patient’s family was willing to carry on with treatment, the vet was willing to provide it. They even tossed around the idea of securing a kidney transplant for that poor aged cat. I nearly choked on my staff meeting donut when Boss shared that with the office. And that would cost HOW much??? And Pregzilla remembers that she’s got a baby on the way, right???
Finally, late one night came a mass text message from Zilla. Kitty is an alias I’m using, because the cat’s REAL name is a people name. That people name was one I THOUGHT I’d heard attached to Zilla’s mother, so when I got the missive that “My dearest lifelong friend, my precious ‘Susie’ has left the earth and gone to be with Jesus tonight. She left into heaven from my arms at 11 p.m.,” I thought for SURE it was the unexpected death of Zilla’s mom. Poor girl, she was in the midst of raging hormones and first trimester morning sickness, was all emotional anyway over her dying cat and THEN her mom passes away. But I paused in confusion -- I suddenly feared that it might not be Mom’s name after all, but Kitty’s, and so, embarrassingly enough, I was pressed upon to shoot back a generic sympathy message that would apply to either bereavement, because at that moment, I couldn’t get hold of anyone who could actually give me the definitive info about the identity of the dearly departed. Let me tell you, crafting The Pregzilla Chronicles is a CINCH compared to trying to give expression to a note that is sensitive, compassionate and appropriate for the demise of EITHER a mother……..or a cat. Have a go at that yourself, just for kicks, and post your efforts below.
Pregzilla remained inconsolable and secluded in their home for at least three weeks following Kitty’s funeral. Boss and Zilla haven’t, to date, replaced Zilla’s beloved cat. And I think taking over kitty litter cake, at this point, is probably a really BAAAAAD idea.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Chapter 9: A Pregzilla Sighting
Okay, I KNOW I just posted a new chapter last night, so maybe it's too soon for another one. But this one is FRESH, soo.....
Turns out I didn’t need to move a muscle to get you guys your Pregzilla fix. She stopped in the office yesterday on her way to run some errands.
I heard her greeting her SIL and chatting with one of our clients in the foyer. They were making maternal small talk. Yes, she’s feeling much better than she was. She’s due August 7, but, obviously, the baby will be here anytime from mid-July on. Oh? Yes, the baby is measuring a little large, so he’ll be here by the end of next month, at the verrrrry latest.
The experienced mom gently reflected that SHE had measured four weeks “ahead” with her first child, but that her doctor ended up having to induce – more than a week after her due date. Stone silence. No, kind stranger, although Pregzilla might be able to sing like a bird, and reportedly types 80 words per minute, she is NOT good at math or common sense, and she will NOT comprehend that just because she’s measuring a bit large for dates, this does NOT automatically translate into an early delivery. As incredible as it may seem, she has absolutely no doubt that if she’s measuring 36 weeks, she WILL have that baby in exactly four weeks. You’re wasting your breath to attempt to explain. Accept it and move along. Thattagirl.
I was Pregzilla’s next victim. I greeted her with a hug, after which our eyes met and she directed my gaze to her belly by tugging on her shirt and smoothing the curve of her abdomen. Yes, dear, you’re still pregnant. Perhaps even more so than when I last saw you. Duh. (WHY does this irritate me? I don’t mean for it to do so. )
Anyway, I asked after her well-being. She was looking cheery, but perhaps a little haggard and swollen, I thought. Hard to make comparisons really, since she neither wears makeup nor fixes her hair anymore. Seems the baby was active for THREE whole hours in a ROW last night, and it had affected her sleep. At the end of her wits, she had awakened Boss, because little man “always quiets right down” when Boss speaks to the little bugger. Wow. Three whole hours of (noiseless) activity, and it drives her over the edge. Boss had attributed his tardiness (by no less than ½ hour) to the staff meeting this morning on lost sleep due to being disturbed thusly by Pregzilla. Does anybody else speculate that these people are in BIG trouble when they bring that baby home?
Pregzilla also announced to me that upon awakening this morning, she realized that she had dropped 2 inches overnight. See, Mrs. Elderly Grand-Multipara?(What they called me last pregnancy, because I was over 40 and had birthed a cumulative litter. ) Delivery is imminent. Cool for you. But WHY do both she and Boss seem to have this insatiable NEED to make me agree that this baby will be arriving before its due date? It doesn’t matter to me!! I pray good health and safety for you all, but honestly, I don’t care if she emits babies like drop cookies every few moments, so it CERTAINLY won’t make a big difference to me whether little man joins them in July or August. Seriously. And all this after I only casually mentioned, ONCE, that fetal size has little to do with birthdate.
She disappeared to check some emails or something, but when Zilla re-emerged, she invited me to call her anytime. I would, I said , and encouraged her to feel free to give me a call too. “Well,” she responded, “I usually just tell people to call me, because I’m always either asleep or awake.”
Yeah. Meeee toooo. What a coincidence. I’m also always either asleep or awake, since unconscious and dead are the only other two options available. WHAT??????? WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY TO ME? I waited in stunned silence for her to realize what had passed her lips, giggle and then reword it so it made sense. No such luck. Zilla went on to explain that if she’s awake, she’ll see who called and call them back (I guess it’s never occurred to her to just ANSWER the phone?), but if she’s asleep, she won’t pick up at all. (Is THAT how that works? How enlightening. I’ve often wondered how folks handle phone calls while sleeping. )
Mercifully, before Pregzilla said anything else I’d have to file away and attempt to decrypt later , she had to sally forth on her errand running. I did learn that she has a prenatal visit with her OB this week. Can’t wait to hear the latest…
And Dh is pretty well DEMANDING that I spend some time with her soon. Isn’t he mean?? But evidently, you guys aren’t the only ones who love them some Pregzilla news.
queenofbooks said:
I dare you to make her that cake that looks like a cat's litter box.
Bethany, you don't know it yet, but this is a PURRRRRRfect segway into a future chapter of the Pregzilla Chronicles.
Turns out I didn’t need to move a muscle to get you guys your Pregzilla fix. She stopped in the office yesterday on her way to run some errands.
I heard her greeting her SIL and chatting with one of our clients in the foyer. They were making maternal small talk. Yes, she’s feeling much better than she was. She’s due August 7, but, obviously, the baby will be here anytime from mid-July on. Oh? Yes, the baby is measuring a little large, so he’ll be here by the end of next month, at the verrrrry latest.
The experienced mom gently reflected that SHE had measured four weeks “ahead” with her first child, but that her doctor ended up having to induce – more than a week after her due date. Stone silence. No, kind stranger, although Pregzilla might be able to sing like a bird, and reportedly types 80 words per minute, she is NOT good at math or common sense, and she will NOT comprehend that just because she’s measuring a bit large for dates, this does NOT automatically translate into an early delivery. As incredible as it may seem, she has absolutely no doubt that if she’s measuring 36 weeks, she WILL have that baby in exactly four weeks. You’re wasting your breath to attempt to explain. Accept it and move along. Thattagirl.
I was Pregzilla’s next victim. I greeted her with a hug, after which our eyes met and she directed my gaze to her belly by tugging on her shirt and smoothing the curve of her abdomen. Yes, dear, you’re still pregnant. Perhaps even more so than when I last saw you. Duh. (WHY does this irritate me? I don’t mean for it to do so. )
Anyway, I asked after her well-being. She was looking cheery, but perhaps a little haggard and swollen, I thought. Hard to make comparisons really, since she neither wears makeup nor fixes her hair anymore. Seems the baby was active for THREE whole hours in a ROW last night, and it had affected her sleep. At the end of her wits, she had awakened Boss, because little man “always quiets right down” when Boss speaks to the little bugger. Wow. Three whole hours of (noiseless) activity, and it drives her over the edge. Boss had attributed his tardiness (by no less than ½ hour) to the staff meeting this morning on lost sleep due to being disturbed thusly by Pregzilla. Does anybody else speculate that these people are in BIG trouble when they bring that baby home?
Pregzilla also announced to me that upon awakening this morning, she realized that she had dropped 2 inches overnight. See, Mrs. Elderly Grand-Multipara?(What they called me last pregnancy, because I was over 40 and had birthed a cumulative litter. ) Delivery is imminent. Cool for you. But WHY do both she and Boss seem to have this insatiable NEED to make me agree that this baby will be arriving before its due date? It doesn’t matter to me!! I pray good health and safety for you all, but honestly, I don’t care if she emits babies like drop cookies every few moments, so it CERTAINLY won’t make a big difference to me whether little man joins them in July or August. Seriously. And all this after I only casually mentioned, ONCE, that fetal size has little to do with birthdate.
She disappeared to check some emails or something, but when Zilla re-emerged, she invited me to call her anytime. I would, I said , and encouraged her to feel free to give me a call too. “Well,” she responded, “I usually just tell people to call me, because I’m always either asleep or awake.”
Yeah. Meeee toooo. What a coincidence. I’m also always either asleep or awake, since unconscious and dead are the only other two options available. WHAT??????? WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY TO ME? I waited in stunned silence for her to realize what had passed her lips, giggle and then reword it so it made sense. No such luck. Zilla went on to explain that if she’s awake, she’ll see who called and call them back (I guess it’s never occurred to her to just ANSWER the phone?), but if she’s asleep, she won’t pick up at all. (Is THAT how that works? How enlightening. I’ve often wondered how folks handle phone calls while sleeping. )
Mercifully, before Pregzilla said anything else I’d have to file away and attempt to decrypt later , she had to sally forth on her errand running. I did learn that she has a prenatal visit with her OB this week. Can’t wait to hear the latest…
And Dh is pretty well DEMANDING that I spend some time with her soon. Isn’t he mean?? But evidently, you guys aren’t the only ones who love them some Pregzilla news.
queenofbooks said:
I dare you to make her that cake that looks like a cat's litter box.
Bethany, you don't know it yet, but this is a PURRRRRRfect segway into a future chapter of the Pregzilla Chronicles.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Chapter 8 – Pregzilla: In the Spotlight
Pregzilla possesses, how do we say, somewhat diva-ish tendencies. Case in point, and an interesting element of the wedding processional I’ve forgotten to include previously. Boss evidently had some sort of dream, years ago, regarding his eventual wedding. It seems that in this vision, his bride materialized out of a kind of blaze of brilliant glory. Well, once the betrothal had been accomplished, he resolved to attempt to convert that reverie into reality.
The way this was achieved was riveting in itself, but let’s hold our collective horses for a moment. If your fiancé recommended that you enter your wedding hall like some sort of phantasmagoric celestial fireball, your MILDEST reply might be something like,”Oh, honey, wouldn’t that be silly? Of course, you aren’t serious.” With an unspoken, “…because if I thought you were, I would put the brakes on this whole thing and have you committed.”
Not Zilla. She was enraptured with the idea that her march down the aisle could be so theatrical. So. After the attendants had all made their respective ways to the altar and were turned and waiting for the bride, the sanctuary doors closed. Zilla swished into place behind them, and one of the 7 foot tall nephews crouched behind her, holding Boss’ 25 million candlepower flashlight. (Just so you know, this thing is ridiculously bright. Long before Bridezilla was a blip on the radar, Boss had demonstrated it to Dh and me outside our offices. It’s got “retinal damage” warnings and everything, and I have no idea WHY he bought it except for being able to say he has the biggest flashlight around. Boss is just like that. )
At the appointed moment, the sanctuary doors swung wide as nephew tripped the switch on the flashlight. There stood Bridezilla in the doorway, surrounded by a dazzling flood of blinding candlepower. The effect was potent, and we heard lots of shocked gasps , whether from the sensational display or the retinal damage, we might not ever know until the lawsuits start rolling in.
You might already be aware that when she and Boss returned from their honeymoon, Bridezilla had a position awaiting her at our place of business. I had dismissed Boss’ sister’s skepticism about whether or not she would fit in by chalking up Sis’ doubt to a tad bit of apprehension about the prospect of having to divide her already limited work hours with yet another employee. Now I realize that my perceptive colleague had already comprehended what would take me yet awhile longer to realize. Pregzilla might never have had any intention of working in our office at ALL, but she CERTAINLY wasn’t willing to just morph into the role that Boss wanted her to fill.
No way. I have wondered if her initial attraction to Boss was the straw man she built of him. She moved in circles where there was a lot of buzz about Boss. Boss was doing this, boss was going here. Boss was speaking there, Boss was planning that. Boss knows this person, Boss is good friends with that person. Boss sounded glamorous and exciting. Add to that the fact that there were several young ladies in her acquaintance who had significant crushes on Boss , and I have the impression that Bridezilla may have fallen in love with the IDEA of Boss long before she was introduced to the individual. I’m just saying.
The first week that the newlyweds were back in town, I took a little time off from the office. You know, to let Bridezilla settle in to her new job , with Boss training her , rather than some know-it-all has-been whom she might have, at some misguided time, half-suspected of having romantic designs on her husband. (And, just in case you’ve forgotten, gag. ) I wasn’t feeling unfriendly toward her, in fact, despite the Bridezilla that had emerged during the wedding preparations, I had adopted a pretty compassionate attitude toward this young wife who I knew had not fully realized what she’d just stepped into.
My desk was located just outside the window of Boss’ office. If he ever actually USED his office, which he did only rarely, Boss could stare at the back of my head as I worked at my computer. Not that he ever engaged in that practice, but as a result of the feasibility, I considered that location to be the PERFECT one for his new wife. And an olive branch of peace from me, who didn’t want to even have the INTIMATION that Boss could potentially be staring at the back of my head. I cleared out my drawers, polished up the desk, set up a new computer for her, and even stocked her up with her own array of office tools in her favorite color. I penned a sincere and congenial “Welcome Home” note and made myself scarce for a few days.
When I stopped in mid-week for my paycheck, I didn’t find Bridezilla or Boss. What I DID find was an economy canister of Clorox wipes and two cans of Lysol reposing on my old desk. The desk organizer and file trays I had carefully cleaned and arranged for Zilla were absent. When I carried something to the kitchen later, I found the file trays dumped unceremoniously in the sink, and the desk organizer stuffed in the trash. The office tools I’d set her up with were missing altogether, and I never have set eyes on them again. I’d guess if the computer at her workstation were in any way disposable, it would have departed as well.
Seems Zilla is a germ-o-phobe. Immediately after the announcement of her ovulation, she caught a really nasty cold. Which, to me, just reinforced the reliability of my pregnancy prediction, because in my experience, early pregnancy is often accompanied by a suppressed immune system. To keep the mother’s body from attacking the new baby as a foreign object. Yeah. So I’m thinking, “See, I told you so. She’s knocked up,” while Bride-now-Pregzilla is thinking, “I’ll bet ELLEN is the pathogenic minefield who is responsible for this awful cold. I must destroy everything she’s ever touched.” Or something like that.
Now, to be fair, just a few weeks before, after we had buttoned up our last big community event, which occurred the day after the shower with the impromptu Japanese guests, Boss’ sis wasn’t feeling well. Like really bad. So she stopped by the hospital to get stuff checked out, and it turned out she had MRSA, which is not funny at all. Sis ended up staying in the hospital almost the whole next week and was released practically JUST in time to be able to attend the wedding. So maybe MY microbes weren’t the only bugs Zilla was wigging out about. But, as has been reinforced repeatedly since then, Pregzilla IS a germ-o-phobe, and she’s BIG on decontamination. Scorched earth.
Dh keeps telling me I should pay Pregzilla a visit in her home, which I haven’t done for a few months. Given the delicate circumstances, most recently the scoop that she virtuously ripped up an entire roomful of carpeting in tribute to a kamikaze lamp bulb, I’m not sure I want to risk taxing Boss’ budget (or benefactors) further by inflicting my non-sterile self into their prophylactic abode.
The way this was achieved was riveting in itself, but let’s hold our collective horses for a moment. If your fiancé recommended that you enter your wedding hall like some sort of phantasmagoric celestial fireball, your MILDEST reply might be something like,”Oh, honey, wouldn’t that be silly?
Not Zilla. She was enraptured with the idea that her march down the aisle could be so theatrical. So. After the attendants had all made their respective ways to the altar and were turned and waiting for the bride, the sanctuary doors closed. Zilla swished into place behind them, and one of the 7 foot tall nephews crouched behind her, holding Boss’ 25 million candlepower flashlight. (Just so you know, this thing is ridiculously bright. Long before Bridezilla was a blip on the radar, Boss had demonstrated it to Dh and me outside our offices. It’s got “retinal damage” warnings and everything, and I have no idea WHY he bought it except for being able to say he has the biggest flashlight around. Boss is just like that. )
At the appointed moment, the sanctuary doors swung wide as nephew tripped the switch on the flashlight. There stood Bridezilla in the doorway, surrounded by a dazzling flood of blinding candlepower. The effect was potent, and we heard lots of shocked gasps , whether from the sensational display or the retinal damage, we might not ever know until the lawsuits start rolling in.
You might already be aware that when she and Boss returned from their honeymoon, Bridezilla had a position awaiting her at our place of business. I had dismissed Boss’ sister’s skepticism about whether or not she would fit in by chalking up Sis’ doubt to a tad bit of apprehension about the prospect of having to divide her already limited work hours with yet another employee. Now I realize that my perceptive colleague had already comprehended what would take me yet awhile longer to realize. Pregzilla might never have had any intention of working in our office at ALL, but she CERTAINLY wasn’t willing to just morph into the role that Boss wanted her to fill.
No way. I have wondered if her initial attraction to Boss was the straw man she built of him. She moved in circles where there was a lot of buzz about Boss. Boss was doing this, boss was going here. Boss was speaking there, Boss was planning that. Boss knows this person, Boss is good friends with that person. Boss sounded glamorous and exciting. Add to that the fact that there were several young ladies in her acquaintance who had significant crushes on Boss , and I have the impression that Bridezilla may have fallen in love with the IDEA of Boss long before she was introduced to the individual. I’m just saying.
The first week that the newlyweds were back in town, I took a little time off from the office. You know, to let Bridezilla settle in to her new job , with Boss training her , rather than some know-it-all has-been whom she might have, at some misguided time, half-suspected of having romantic designs on her husband. (And, just in case you’ve forgotten, gag. ) I wasn’t feeling unfriendly toward her, in fact, despite the Bridezilla that had emerged during the wedding preparations, I had adopted a pretty compassionate attitude toward this young wife who I knew had not fully realized what she’d just stepped into.
My desk was located just outside the window of Boss’ office. If he ever actually USED his office, which he did only rarely, Boss could stare at the back of my head as I worked at my computer. Not that he ever engaged in that practice, but as a result of the feasibility, I considered that location to be the PERFECT one for his new wife. And an olive branch of peace from me, who didn’t want to even have the INTIMATION that Boss could potentially be staring at the back of my head. I cleared out my drawers, polished up the desk, set up a new computer for her, and even stocked her up with her own array of office tools in her favorite color. I penned a sincere and congenial “Welcome Home” note and made myself scarce for a few days.
When I stopped in mid-week for my paycheck, I didn’t find Bridezilla or Boss. What I DID find was an economy canister of Clorox wipes and two cans of Lysol reposing on my old desk. The desk organizer and file trays I had carefully cleaned and arranged for Zilla were absent. When I carried something to the kitchen later, I found the file trays dumped unceremoniously in the sink, and the desk organizer stuffed in the trash. The office tools I’d set her up with were missing altogether, and I never have set eyes on them again. I’d guess if the computer at her workstation were in any way disposable, it would have departed as well.
Seems Zilla is a germ-o-phobe. Immediately after the announcement of her ovulation, she caught a really nasty cold. Which, to me, just reinforced the reliability of my pregnancy prediction, because in my experience, early pregnancy is often accompanied by a suppressed immune system. To keep the mother’s body from attacking the new baby as a foreign object. Yeah. So I’m thinking, “See, I told you so. She’s knocked up,” while Bride-now-Pregzilla is thinking, “I’ll bet ELLEN is the pathogenic minefield who is responsible for this awful cold. I must destroy everything she’s ever touched.” Or something like that.
Now, to be fair, just a few weeks before, after we had buttoned up our last big community event, which occurred the day after the shower with the impromptu Japanese guests, Boss’ sis wasn’t feeling well. Like really bad. So she stopped by the hospital to get stuff checked out, and it turned out she had MRSA, which is not funny at all. Sis ended up staying in the hospital almost the whole next week and was released practically JUST in time to be able to attend the wedding. So maybe MY microbes weren’t the only bugs Zilla was wigging out about. But, as has been reinforced repeatedly since then, Pregzilla IS a germ-o-phobe, and she’s BIG on decontamination. Scorched earth.
Dh keeps telling me I should pay Pregzilla a visit in her home, which I haven’t done for a few months. Given the delicate circumstances, most recently the scoop that she virtuously ripped up an entire roomful of carpeting in tribute to a kamikaze lamp bulb, I’m not sure I want to risk taxing Boss’ budget (or benefactors) further by inflicting my non-sterile self into their prophylactic abode.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Chapter 7 – Bridezilla: Notes from the Honeymoon
To this day, I don’t know where Boss & Bridezilla spent their wedding night. The only info forthcoming was that they were staying at a hotel somewhere in the greater metropolitan area.
Were they afraid their more rustic friends and relatives would organize an unnerving shivaree? (I suspect the answer to this one is “Yes!” and secrecy was probably a good call on their part.) Did Boss worry that a one of his jilted lady friends, in a jealous rage, would hire a hit man to ambush the newlywed suite and do away with his blushing new bride? Was he nervous that a disgruntled former associate might sabotage his vehicle overnight and wreck their honeymoon plans? We may never know for sure, but I don’t put any fear completely outside the domain of Boss’ neuroses.
Regardless of motive, this silent treatment was remarkably odd, because boss is typically overflowing with extraneous details. In fact, in the many months since I had been in Boss’ employ, I could expect from three to five calls per day from his cell, even on holidays, even if he was out of town.
Boss is quite unreserved, so I could expect to spend no less than 15 minutes per call trading opinions on issues about which I never realized I needed to be incisive. For instance, whether McDonalds utilizes “real” chicken for their McNuggets, whether cell termination fees are legal, whether the fluoride in toothpaste is toxic over time, or whether that burger he’d grabbed from Hardee’s was liable to agree with his innards. All this in addition to the numerous business-related discussions we would have over the course of the hectic workday.
As the wedding had drawn nearer and nearer, and I’d heard NOTHING about where he and Bridezilla were going, how long they’d be gone, or even what the heck I should do about the pressing day-to-day business decisions I’d have to make in his absence, I was quite astonished. But there was zero. No calls, no notes on my desk, no explanatory emails. Knowing Boss’ penchant for last minute directives, I kept looking for something just around the corner, but nada.
I’ll have to admit, I was half anticipating this shutdown of contact. You see, Boss had previously experienced no gender barriers to his communication. He liberally made cell calls to other females with the same sense of freedom that he felt to call one of his sisters, or his mom. No strings attached, no apparent ulterior motives, no seductive intentions. He is unfailingly kindhearted, gregarious and compassionate. He is notorious for giving friendly, spontaneous hugs to people of all ages, even upon first meeting. Whatever woman agreed to be the other half of this expressive individual would have to be okay with all the love he liked to spread.
Bridezilla had been in a romance-induced stupor for a bit during the preceding weeks, but sometime close to the wedding, she apparently realized she WASN’T okay with her fiancé’s bountiful chatting and serial embracing after all. She hadn’t known Boss well, obviously, but even though she recognized that he was REALLY outgoing early on, I don’t believe she was prepared for the sheer volume of women that regularly come rustling through his personal space.
Or for his frame of mind about some of those women. Preening his ego he might have been, but he remained genuinely convinced that, in spite of his personal disinterest, many of these women fervently yearned for his carnal attentions. By virtue of his long years of bachelorhood, during which he felt the need to recurrently remind himself and any bystanders that he still had it “goin’ on”, Boss often disclosed his hunches that a particular woman or other had made desperate attempts to get him alone. When he became affianced to Zilla, I think that bravado was compounded by Boss’ desire to reinforce in her mind the concept that she had made a PRIME catch. So, Boss had no qualms about amusing Bridezilla with bygone tales of thwarted passion. The breakdown was that poor Zilla wasn’t amused. She became suspicious. And a little ticked.
(How suspicious? How ticked? Later, in the flurry of fantasy during which we imagined that Bridezilla would become Boss’ executive assistant, I noticed that the business cell phone bill had mysteriously disappeared. All umpteen pages of it. Mmmmhmm. I deduced later that Bridezilla had swiped that thing and gone over it with a fine-toothed comb. I imagine she was none-too-pleased to see that there were HUNDREDS of calls to a whole host of females (including me) over the course of the month in question, adding up to DOZENS of hours. Even now, months later, the cell bill will intermittently appear on my desk with only the statement page present, and I know Zilla has struck again. I envision her holed up with Boss’ contact list and a calculator, furiously deciphering who he’s been talking to and for how long. All I know is, MY cell phone is now utterly devoid of calls from Boss, and I’m no longer required to thrash out whether Bill Gates will really come across with that $250 if Boss forwards that email to ten people. )
Post-wedding, almost all executive communication now comes through Boss’ sister, who is also on staff in our office. The honeymoon was no different. We got updates on the conjugal goings-on two, sometimes three times per day. They had a nice trip to points south. Beautiful scenery, so relaxing.
And Bridezilla was getting sick. She was having mild abdominal pain, but so disquieted was Zilla, and so concerned was her Dh, that he had rushed her to the emergency room. Boss got word to us that she had cystitis. I could tell from his message that he wasn’t quite sure what that was, but he feared it was serious. We married ladies around the office giggled a little. Some of us had experienced a bladder infection on our honeymoons too. But poor Zilla; even though the ER doc gave her some meds, they apparently didn’t tell her what was causing the problem or what she should do about it, so she got even sicker.
You know how, after it’s been a REALLY long time since you’ve been to the theater, and you finally go – the popcorn smells SO good, you just can’t resist, so you buy a BIG TUB, with extra butter, and before you know it, you’ve eaten it ALL, because you can’t get enough POPCORN? Well, that’s how it must have been for Boss, only not with popcorn – well, YES with popcorn, only not the movie kind, the Fishie kind. Anyway, I think one of his sisters set him straight on exactly what was going on, and how Bridezilla might be able to, um, alleviate that problem by a quick trip to the facilities after . But I heard that he blamed himself, because he just couldn’t get enough popcorn, which was WAY more info than I wanted to know.
Once the newlyweds got to the bottom of the cause of the first problem, and the antibiotics started to kick in, they did a little day-tripping at their honeymoon destination. They even attended the taping of a television show, during which the host had interviewed them and given a special celebratory gift to commemorate their marriage, and invited Bridezilla to come back and SING at the next show taping.
Sadly, it was not to be, because before the clock struck midnight, Bridezilla was back in the emergency room with more abdominal pain. The doctor ordered some tests. One of the tests showed that Bridezilla had a functional cyst on one of her ovaries. The doctor shared the results, emphasizing that he wasn’t concerned about this, and given Zilla’s latest health trouble, he thought the pain was probably associated with the increased activity in this region of late , so he put Bridezilla on a day or two of pelvic rest. BWAHAHAHAHA. Just what Boss wanted to hear on his HONEYMOON!!!
Meanwhile, Zilla was flipping out about the cyst on her ovary, and recruited Boss to join her. Of course, the two of them asked no questions of the medical professionals, conducted no research, they just spread the horrid news with what they considered appropriate gravity. Bridezilla has (sniff, sniff ) a functional cyst on her ovary. (Yes, dearhearts. Zilla is a fertile female of childbearing age, so yes, she WOULD have cysts on her ovaries. Those are called eggs, and they are ripening and preparing to burst and consequently be available for fertilization. It’s called ovulation. You may have heard this term before?)
But oh, no. This news drove Zilla to take to her abstinent bed. Boss called the TV show and notified them that Bridezilla couldn’t come to sing because they had just received the report that she had a cyst on her ovary. Accckkk.
As I may have mentioned before, Boss has a habit of sharing WAY TMI. Back a few weeks ago, when I’d been lobbying for a much later wedding date, Boss had indicated that the later dates were off-limits because of proximity to Bridezilla’s menstrual cycle, and then before I had time to jam my fingers in my ears and sing “La,La,La!” he told me the precise date of her last period and the date we could expect her next one. Oh, hurl.
Nonetheless, based on this unwelcome but unavoidable bit of data, I instinctively knew when Bridezilla could be expected to ovulate, and it was. Right. About. Now. Yessiree. Boss and Bridezilla shelved Zilla’s vocal television debut because she was preparing to release an egg.
And that’s not all. A couple of days later, after their journey back home, they attended a fairly large gathering at which Boss had been asked to speak. Zilla herself recounted to me later that as Boss addressed the crowd, she felt a “painful pop,” and when Boss introduced his new wife to the throng, she announced that the cyst on her ovary had just burst. Woo hoo.
I’m entirely confident that Bridezilla had NO idea that she had just proclaimed to all and sundry her first ovulation as a married woman. Or that she, now off pelvic rest, was about to become Pregzilla.
I came home and instructed Dh to mark down the first full week of August in his planner – because I predicted this was the week that Boss would be adding another nut to the family granola.
Were they afraid their more rustic friends and relatives would organize an unnerving shivaree? (I suspect the answer to this one is “Yes!” and secrecy was probably a good call on their part.) Did Boss worry that a one of his jilted lady friends, in a jealous rage, would hire a hit man to ambush the newlywed suite and do away with his blushing new bride? Was he nervous that a disgruntled former associate might sabotage his vehicle overnight and wreck their honeymoon plans? We may never know for sure, but I don’t put any fear completely outside the domain of Boss’ neuroses.
Regardless of motive, this silent treatment was remarkably odd, because boss is typically overflowing with extraneous details. In fact, in the many months since I had been in Boss’ employ, I could expect from three to five calls per day from his cell, even on holidays, even if he was out of town.
Boss is quite unreserved, so I could expect to spend no less than 15 minutes per call trading opinions on issues about which I never realized I needed to be incisive. For instance, whether McDonalds utilizes “real” chicken for their McNuggets, whether cell termination fees are legal, whether the fluoride in toothpaste is toxic over time, or whether that burger he’d grabbed from Hardee’s was liable to agree with his innards. All this in addition to the numerous business-related discussions we would have over the course of the hectic workday.
As the wedding had drawn nearer and nearer, and I’d heard NOTHING about where he and Bridezilla were going, how long they’d be gone, or even what the heck I should do about the pressing day-to-day business decisions I’d have to make in his absence, I was quite astonished. But there was zero. No calls, no notes on my desk, no explanatory emails. Knowing Boss’ penchant for last minute directives, I kept looking for something just around the corner, but nada.
I’ll have to admit, I was half anticipating this shutdown of contact. You see, Boss had previously experienced no gender barriers to his communication. He liberally made cell calls to other females with the same sense of freedom that he felt to call one of his sisters, or his mom. No strings attached, no apparent ulterior motives, no seductive intentions. He is unfailingly kindhearted, gregarious and compassionate. He is notorious for giving friendly, spontaneous hugs to people of all ages, even upon first meeting. Whatever woman agreed to be the other half of this expressive individual would have to be okay with all the love he liked to spread.
Bridezilla had been in a romance-induced stupor for a bit during the preceding weeks, but sometime close to the wedding, she apparently realized she WASN’T okay with her fiancé’s bountiful chatting and serial embracing after all. She hadn’t known Boss well, obviously, but even though she recognized that he was REALLY outgoing early on, I don’t believe she was prepared for the sheer volume of women that regularly come rustling through his personal space.
Or for his frame of mind about some of those women. Preening his ego he might have been, but he remained genuinely convinced that, in spite of his personal disinterest, many of these women fervently yearned for his carnal attentions. By virtue of his long years of bachelorhood, during which he felt the need to recurrently remind himself and any bystanders that he still had it “goin’ on”, Boss often disclosed his hunches that a particular woman or other had made desperate attempts to get him alone. When he became affianced to Zilla, I think that bravado was compounded by Boss’ desire to reinforce in her mind the concept that she had made a PRIME catch. So, Boss had no qualms about amusing Bridezilla with bygone tales of thwarted passion. The breakdown was that poor Zilla wasn’t amused. She became suspicious. And a little ticked.
(How suspicious? How ticked? Later, in the flurry of fantasy during which we imagined that Bridezilla would become Boss’ executive assistant, I noticed that the business cell phone bill had mysteriously disappeared. All umpteen pages of it. Mmmmhmm. I deduced later that Bridezilla had swiped that thing and gone over it with a fine-toothed comb. I imagine she was none-too-pleased to see that there were HUNDREDS of calls to a whole host of females (including me) over the course of the month in question, adding up to DOZENS of hours. Even now, months later, the cell bill will intermittently appear on my desk with only the statement page present, and I know Zilla has struck again. I envision her holed up with Boss’ contact list and a calculator, furiously deciphering who he’s been talking to and for how long. All I know is, MY cell phone is now utterly devoid of calls from Boss, and I’m no longer required to thrash out whether Bill Gates will really come across with that $250 if Boss forwards that email to ten people. )
Post-wedding, almost all executive communication now comes through Boss’ sister, who is also on staff in our office. The honeymoon was no different. We got updates on the conjugal goings-on two, sometimes three times per day. They had a nice trip to points south. Beautiful scenery, so relaxing.
And Bridezilla was getting sick. She was having mild abdominal pain, but so disquieted was Zilla, and so concerned was her Dh, that he had rushed her to the emergency room. Boss got word to us that she had cystitis. I could tell from his message that he wasn’t quite sure what that was, but he feared it was serious. We married ladies around the office giggled a little. Some of us had experienced a bladder infection on our honeymoons too. But poor Zilla; even though the ER doc gave her some meds, they apparently didn’t tell her what was causing the problem or what she should do about it, so she got even sicker.
You know how, after it’s been a REALLY long time since you’ve been to the theater, and you finally go – the popcorn smells SO good, you just can’t resist, so you buy a BIG TUB, with extra butter, and before you know it, you’ve eaten it ALL, because you can’t get enough POPCORN? Well, that’s how it must have been for Boss, only not with popcorn – well, YES with popcorn, only not the movie kind, the Fishie kind. Anyway, I think one of his sisters set him straight on exactly what was going on, and how Bridezilla might be able to, um, alleviate that problem by a quick trip to the facilities after . But I heard that he blamed himself, because he just couldn’t get enough popcorn, which was WAY more info than I wanted to know.
Once the newlyweds got to the bottom of the cause of the first problem, and the antibiotics started to kick in, they did a little day-tripping at their honeymoon destination. They even attended the taping of a television show, during which the host had interviewed them and given a special celebratory gift to commemorate their marriage, and invited Bridezilla to come back and SING at the next show taping.
Sadly, it was not to be, because before the clock struck midnight, Bridezilla was back in the emergency room with more abdominal pain. The doctor ordered some tests. One of the tests showed that Bridezilla had a functional cyst on one of her ovaries. The doctor shared the results, emphasizing that he wasn’t concerned about this, and given Zilla’s latest health trouble, he thought the pain was probably associated with the increased activity in this region of late , so he put Bridezilla on a day or two of pelvic rest. BWAHAHAHAHA. Just what Boss wanted to hear on his HONEYMOON!!!
Meanwhile, Zilla was flipping out about the cyst on her ovary, and recruited Boss to join her. Of course, the two of them asked no questions of the medical professionals, conducted no research, they just spread the horrid news with what they considered appropriate gravity. Bridezilla has (sniff, sniff ) a functional cyst on her ovary. (Yes, dearhearts. Zilla is a fertile female of childbearing age, so yes, she WOULD have cysts on her ovaries. Those are called eggs, and they are ripening and preparing to burst and consequently be available for fertilization. It’s called ovulation. You may have heard this term before?)
But oh, no. This news drove Zilla to take to her abstinent bed. Boss called the TV show and notified them that Bridezilla couldn’t come to sing because they had just received the report that she had a cyst on her ovary. Accckkk.
As I may have mentioned before, Boss has a habit of sharing WAY TMI. Back a few weeks ago, when I’d been lobbying for a much later wedding date, Boss had indicated that the later dates were off-limits because of proximity to Bridezilla’s menstrual cycle, and then before I had time to jam my fingers in my ears and sing “La,La,La!” he told me the precise date of her last period and the date we could expect her next one. Oh, hurl.
Nonetheless, based on this unwelcome but unavoidable bit of data, I instinctively knew when Bridezilla could be expected to ovulate, and it was. Right. About. Now. Yessiree. Boss and Bridezilla shelved Zilla’s vocal television debut because she was preparing to release an egg.
And that’s not all. A couple of days later, after their journey back home, they attended a fairly large gathering at which Boss had been asked to speak. Zilla herself recounted to me later that as Boss addressed the crowd, she felt a “painful pop,” and when Boss introduced his new wife to the throng, she announced that the cyst on her ovary had just burst. Woo hoo.
I’m entirely confident that Bridezilla had NO idea that she had just proclaimed to all and sundry her first ovulation as a married woman. Or that she, now off pelvic rest, was about to become Pregzilla.
I came home and instructed Dh to mark down the first full week of August in his planner – because I predicted this was the week that Boss would be adding another nut to the family granola.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Appendix I: The Official Pregzilla FAQ
I have realized that in an effort to provide you with accurate reporting, I have totally dissed most of your questions.
1.Are you absolutely sure that these are real people that you are telling us about???????? I could supply you with their names, addresses and cell numbers, but then, of course, I’d have to kill you.
2.Honestly... Really..... Seriously ?? As a heart attack.
3. Were there any wagers placed on how long it would be before Bridezilla now Pregzilla would turn into Ex-zilla? There have been none. Their bloodlines seem to have quite a bit of forbearance for misery. Let’s just suffice it to say that Pregzilla’s parents don’t appear to be any longer in a state of wedded bliss, but claim the same mailing address. Boss’ folks don’t even live in the same town, yet are still legally husband and wife. So I think there’s a tremendous precedent here to stick with the routine regardless of degree of difficulty.
4.Is she his trophy wife? He THOUGHT she was his trophy wife, but it was an optical illusion. Once the first trimester nausea set in, the makeup came off.
5.Please tell me there was a prenup? Well…..each of them began this adventure flat broke, so there’s noplace to go but up. Hard to exceed the credit limits on charge cards you can’t get. I'm guessing that if one of them cleaned out the bank accounts and ran off with the money, they’d be able to get maybe as far as the state line, after all the ER and immediate care visits of the last several months. I’m just saying.
6.I hope you're printing this out for his next wife to read and laugh hysterically at. This is not really a question, but it deserves an answer anyway. Hork! (Can I borrow that, Natty?) If you were a prospective spouse, wouldn’t just the first installment of this mess make you want to run far, far away???
7.Did he really think she would be good wife? Yes, naturally. He didn’t consider himself able to pick anything but the perfect mate.
8.What were they doing in the car at that Speedway? Calculating their gas mileage???
9.Although, considering the courtship, engagement and impending new spawn, Speedway is somewhat fitting, is it not? Hadn’t thought about it, but that’s an excellent point!
10.Did the van thing, at the Arby’s, REALLY happen? Scouts’ honor. And I had even left supper for my sons at home with Dh ; they just decided on a whim that they’d rather have a boys night out at the very restaurant that the Japanese students happened to request along the 72 mile journey (I just Mapquested it. Shoooeee, I didn't know it was that far!) to the bridal shower. No cell phone coordination of plans, no preknowledge of itinerary. So you see, it was DESTINY that we transported our Asian visitors, and company, to that party.
11.When exactly is Pregzilla due? Officially, August 7. Her OB happens to also be MY doctor, so I don’t think they’d be bold enough to fudge the date for fear I’d find out somehow.
12.What if she's planting the early delivery seed because she was already pregnant(not by her Dh)?? Hmmm. Planting the seed. Clever play on words there. You know, that possibility had never crossed my mind until you mentioned it. But….. Nah, couldn’t be.………. Hmmmm……. No, surely not……????
13.Is he planning on a paternity test? I mean, stranger things have happened, but I really, truly think this baby’s gotta be his.
14.I wonder who raised her??? Pregzilla, unfortunately was raised by people who still, although she is broke and pregnant with her first child, call HER for financial assistance and moral support. And so was Boss. So you can kind of see where their behavior might actually be a step UP from the lives they’ve known.
15.I wonder how her child is going to turn out??? So do I. Lamentably, I already have a gut feeling. Where’s the alien graemlin?
16.How long have you been working for this guy? A couple of years, although we’ve known him a few longer than that.
17.Has being around him always been this...ummm...well, the word "crazy" just doesn't seem to fit...how about challenging, hilarious, chaotic and somehow dysfunctional? Absolutely. (Brilliant choice of adjectives, BTW. My job in a nutshell. ) There’s never a dull moment. I feel like “Miss Jane” from the Beverly Hillbillies.
18.OMG how do you work for this man day in and day out? Okay, I know this will make NO sense, but if you all actually MET him, I’d wager 95% of you would LIKE him. He doesn’t make a deeply weird first impression, oddly enough. And he’s a seriously nice guy…. Oh, crap, I can’t explain it.
19.Are you paid well for your job? You mean, like, with money?? That would be a negative, Ghostrider, and I can’t tell you my hourly wage because Boss forbids it. But since a great degree of my job satisfaction comes from the entertainment value, I consider myself handsomely compensated. Wouldn’t you?
20.Do you have to laugh alone or do any other employees tag along? During times of extreme outlandishness, we try not to make eye contact. The radically flaky nature of these characters is the elephant in the room that nobody talks about. Sometimes we do catch each other with gobsmacked looks on our faces, though. Yeah. Gobsmacked. Look that up.
21.What makes him think he should be given free carpeting? Oh, you’ve no idea. The bigger question is why WOULDN’T anyone want to give him free carpeting? This guy is just charming. He secured free rent on the building that houses our non-profit headquarters. The owner is THRILLED to provide it. His three bedroom residence? Free rent from that owner too, just because he’s a great guy. I could go on and on. And honestly, he makes a REAL clear delineation between tax-deductible donations to the non-profit and any personal gifts to himself. People just like giving this guy stuff.
22.When are you going to write the next chapter? Well, I do have a job. And I certainly can’t crank out these stories on my WORK computer. Neither can I stay home JUST to write, and come to think of it, if I did, I’d run out of material for the Pregzilla Chronicles in short order.
23.Are you sure this isn't just a screenplay for an absurd comedy and we're the unwitting test subjects? Oh, boy, do I wish I could make a living off this story. But alas, it’s just my highly amusing life, which will remain just between us password-enabled Fishies – unless possibly sanitized by the passage of many years, or the parting of the ways, or some sort of author protection program. Maybe I should call Salman Rushdie?
24.What will I ever do to keep myself entertained until the next installment? Don’t worry, I still have several Boss & Pregzilla chapters under my hat, all I need is time to flesh them out so that you can see what I saw….
So, until next time…. (Seriously you guys, I’m having so much fun just describing this for you all! I've been bursting with these stories for MONTHS with no one to tell them to but Dh!! So thank YOU!! )
1.Are you absolutely sure that these are real people that you are telling us about???????? I could supply you with their names, addresses and cell numbers, but then, of course, I’d have to kill you.
2.Honestly... Really..... Seriously ?? As a heart attack.
3. Were there any wagers placed on how long it would be before Bridezilla now Pregzilla would turn into Ex-zilla? There have been none. Their bloodlines seem to have quite a bit of forbearance for misery. Let’s just suffice it to say that Pregzilla’s parents don’t appear to be any longer in a state of wedded bliss, but claim the same mailing address. Boss’ folks don’t even live in the same town, yet are still legally husband and wife. So I think there’s a tremendous precedent here to stick with the routine regardless of degree of difficulty.
4.Is she his trophy wife? He THOUGHT she was his trophy wife, but it was an optical illusion. Once the first trimester nausea set in, the makeup came off.
5.Please tell me there was a prenup? Well…..each of them began this adventure flat broke, so there’s noplace to go but up. Hard to exceed the credit limits on charge cards you can’t get. I'm guessing that if one of them cleaned out the bank accounts and ran off with the money, they’d be able to get maybe as far as the state line, after all the ER and immediate care visits of the last several months. I’m just saying.
6.I hope you're printing this out for his next wife to read and laugh hysterically at. This is not really a question, but it deserves an answer anyway. Hork! (Can I borrow that, Natty?) If you were a prospective spouse, wouldn’t just the first installment of this mess make you want to run far, far away???
7.Did he really think she would be good wife? Yes, naturally. He didn’t consider himself able to pick anything but the perfect mate.
8.What were they doing in the car at that Speedway? Calculating their gas mileage???
9.Although, considering the courtship, engagement and impending new spawn, Speedway is somewhat fitting, is it not? Hadn’t thought about it, but that’s an excellent point!
10.Did the van thing, at the Arby’s, REALLY happen? Scouts’ honor. And I had even left supper for my sons at home with Dh ; they just decided on a whim that they’d rather have a boys night out at the very restaurant that the Japanese students happened to request along the 72 mile journey (I just Mapquested it. Shoooeee, I didn't know it was that far!) to the bridal shower. No cell phone coordination of plans, no preknowledge of itinerary. So you see, it was DESTINY that we transported our Asian visitors, and company, to that party.
11.When exactly is Pregzilla due? Officially, August 7. Her OB happens to also be MY doctor, so I don’t think they’d be bold enough to fudge the date for fear I’d find out somehow.
12.What if she's planting the early delivery seed because she was already pregnant(not by her Dh)?? Hmmm. Planting the seed. Clever play on words there. You know, that possibility had never crossed my mind until you mentioned it. But….. Nah, couldn’t be.………. Hmmmm……. No, surely not……????
13.Is he planning on a paternity test? I mean, stranger things have happened, but I really, truly think this baby’s gotta be his.
14.I wonder who raised her??? Pregzilla, unfortunately was raised by people who still, although she is broke and pregnant with her first child, call HER for financial assistance and moral support. And so was Boss. So you can kind of see where their behavior might actually be a step UP from the lives they’ve known.
15.I wonder how her child is going to turn out??? So do I. Lamentably, I already have a gut feeling. Where’s the alien graemlin?
16.How long have you been working for this guy? A couple of years, although we’ve known him a few longer than that.
17.Has being around him always been this...ummm...well, the word "crazy" just doesn't seem to fit...how about challenging, hilarious, chaotic and somehow dysfunctional? Absolutely. (Brilliant choice of adjectives, BTW. My job in a nutshell. ) There’s never a dull moment. I feel like “Miss Jane” from the Beverly Hillbillies.
18.OMG how do you work for this man day in and day out? Okay, I know this will make NO sense, but if you all actually MET him, I’d wager 95% of you would LIKE him. He doesn’t make a deeply weird first impression, oddly enough. And he’s a seriously nice guy…. Oh, crap, I can’t explain it.
19.Are you paid well for your job? You mean, like, with money?? That would be a negative, Ghostrider, and I can’t tell you my hourly wage because Boss forbids it. But since a great degree of my job satisfaction comes from the entertainment value, I consider myself handsomely compensated. Wouldn’t you?
20.Do you have to laugh alone or do any other employees tag along? During times of extreme outlandishness, we try not to make eye contact. The radically flaky nature of these characters is the elephant in the room that nobody talks about. Sometimes we do catch each other with gobsmacked looks on our faces, though. Yeah. Gobsmacked. Look that up.
21.What makes him think he should be given free carpeting? Oh, you’ve no idea. The bigger question is why WOULDN’T anyone want to give him free carpeting? This guy is just charming. He secured free rent on the building that houses our non-profit headquarters. The owner is THRILLED to provide it. His three bedroom residence? Free rent from that owner too, just because he’s a great guy. I could go on and on. And honestly, he makes a REAL clear delineation between tax-deductible donations to the non-profit and any personal gifts to himself. People just like giving this guy stuff.
22.When are you going to write the next chapter? Well, I do have a job. And I certainly can’t crank out these stories on my WORK computer. Neither can I stay home JUST to write, and come to think of it, if I did, I’d run out of material for the Pregzilla Chronicles in short order.
23.Are you sure this isn't just a screenplay for an absurd comedy and we're the unwitting test subjects? Oh, boy, do I wish I could make a living off this story. But alas, it’s just my highly amusing life, which will remain just between us password-enabled Fishies – unless possibly sanitized by the passage of many years, or the parting of the ways, or some sort of author protection program. Maybe I should call Salman Rushdie?
24.What will I ever do to keep myself entertained until the next installment? Don’t worry, I still have several Boss & Pregzilla chapters under my hat, all I need is time to flesh them out so that you can see what I saw….
So, until next time…. (Seriously you guys, I’m having so much fun just describing this for you all! I've been bursting with these stories for MONTHS with no one to tell them to but Dh!! So thank YOU!! )
Chapter 6 - Bridezilla: The Wedding Files
I assure you, the events and characters depicted in this account (and all the others) are real. The details are accurate, albeit skewed from my point of view. Any similarity to actual persons is totally verifiable, but I will refuse to do so. The names have been changed to protect the implicated.
Due to having been pressed into service as an emergency caterer , I didn’t get the thrill of being present for the whole ceremony, but I can provide the highlights.
After Bridezilla shrilly (I heard her shrieking from the church kitchen ) banished the wedding party from her bridal chamber for some “she” time, the maid of honor (AKA: Maid of Onher ) wandered around the corridors of the church halfheartedly disparaging Bzill’s temperament. It was evident MOH was trying to be gracious, taking into account that Bridezilla had been railroaded into this occasion on a veritable bullet train, but at the same time, MOH was feeling significantly underappreciated. (understatement alert)
You might remember that MOH had been an eleventh-hour substitute, designated by the groom, because all Bridezilla’s friends had abandoned ship. Boss had made this particular choice for MOH because Bzill had seemed to “hit it off” with this woman the one time she met her. Okay, taking Bzilla’s side for a moment, can you imagine asking someone to be your maid of honor that you had met ONE time?
Since accepting the honor of being head attendant, MOH had stepped up to help host the bridal shower , provide connections whereby the tuxes and gowns were obtained (wholesale, I might add), help shop for said clothing, provide quite a bit of the materials (and labor) to create the bouquets, decorate the church and reception hall, and had outfitted her toddler daughter adorably as a flower girl. All in a space of less than 2 weeks. So yeah, underappreciated about covers it.
Inside the auditorium, the music had begun, right on schedule. There were lots of guests, which I thought was just short of miraculous since every summons had been via word of mouth. Remember, no time for invitations.
I don’t remember exactly at what hour the wedding was supposed to begin, but at the appointed time, Bridezilla wasn’t dressed yet. It was okay though, because the best man had left his tux somewhere , AND the groom’s socks were AWOL. (I’m a little fuzzy on the exact details of the oversights, because I was otherwise occupied with 500 pieces of chicken and several gallons of baked beans.)
While reconnaissance missions were executed for the missing items, the musician in the auditorium, who had been recruited to provide no more than interim keyboard music, decided that the delay provided a grand opportunity for a full-fledged, by-the-seat-of-his-pants concert. He is a burgeoning performer, and has a pretty good voice, so it wasn’t unpleasant, just REALLY weird, because obviously, the audience hadn’t COME to see his show. Dh said he really got into it, crooning and emoting all over the place. Since, with this crew, wacky is a way of life, the whole state of affairs was oddly appropriate.
At last, the wedding party was dressed, in place, and ready to go. I had come out of the kitchen to watch the processional. Bridezilla wasn’t the only member of the wedding party who was having a meltdown. MOH’s young daughter, one of the 3 flower girls, had missed her afternoon nap and was panicking at the idea of being physically separated from her mother in front of a crowd of strangers. Rather than disrupt the ceremony further, MOH handed the shrieking toddler over to her dh, who took her to a remote location in the church, where she could still be heard but not quite so LOUDLY. Little miss continued her paroxysms of grief through the entire ceremony, and MOH’s dh missed the whole thing.
I cut out to go back to the kitchen after the processional, but dh said the service was a little unusual (imagine that). Boss’ clergy of choice was an outspoken mentor of his. He is from out of state, had been shipped in at unnecessary expense, and looks like Colonel Sanders, right down to the white goatee. As testified by several in attendance, it became noticeable during the ceremony that he had not performed many weddings, as he kept losing his place in the vows, and several times asked the bride and groom what came next. Do I really need to tell you that there had been no wedding rehearsal? You guessed it already, I know!
One of the highlights of the service was the foot-washing ceremony. An unusual feature at a wedding, for sure, but it was added because the bride and groom wished to demonstrate their willingness to serve one another. I was able to sneak into the balcony, accompanied by the SIL with whom I was doing the slapdash catering, just in time to witness this ritual.
Bride and groom each had his/her own water basin. As the groom knelt and clumsily unbuckled the bride’s sandals, I gripped the SIL’s arm with my NAILS. I had just noticed, with unembellished HORROR, that those water bowls were actually SERVING BOWLS from our place of business. Oh. My. Gosh. One was a decorative chip bowl used for events and luncheons, the other was my favorite biscuit mixing bowl for breakfasts we hosted. SIL and I ALMOST squealed and/or gagged.
(Sure enough, BTW, those bowls showed back up in their places in our kitchen the week after Boss and Bridezilla returned from their honeymoon. Just so you know, as soon as I laid eyes on them, I slithered out the back door and buried them in the dumpster. :x )
After the pronouncement came the photo montage, documenting both lives from birth to marriage. Boss’ portion was longer because frankly, he’s had more life. We spectators thought we’d watch the age-morphing, catch a couple final frames of the happy couple and the wedding would be done, but Boss’ family members are just PROLIFIC videographers and picture-takers, there’s no other way to put it. So even though Boss & Bridezilla had only been entangled a few weeks, there were just DOZENS of posed photos of them. It was mind-numbing.
SIL and I skipped out of the receiving line queue to see if there were any last-second needs in the kitchen, where the wedding coordinator, another of Boss’ plants, was tying up the loose ends of what we’d been toiling over all afternoon. I'll have to say she was very gracious and even tempered and didn't even look like she wanted to strangle anybody.
The guests wolfed down the chicken & veggies and guzzled the beverages. My youngest DS helped himself to a fingerful of icing off one of the side sheets at the cake table. ( The kid LOVES cake, I was a little preoccupied and dh wasn’t watching him every minute either. Oh well.)
Finally the bride and groom arrived in the reception hall, after the pictures and the ambulance visit. They entered to the Theme from “Rocky”. It was the song they specifically chose for their grand entrance. Now, think about that and all you know about the longevity and relationship of Boss & Bridezilla. I did, didn’t understand, and don’t want to mull it over again, really. But what could that MEAN??? The Theme from “Rocky”?????
The DJ at the reception was the same musician who had provided the tunes at the ceremony. He was a rock star coming down off a concert high. He was also TERRIBLE as a DJ. But he soon had to leave for another engagement. I can’t explain to you how predictably random it was to watch the DJ packing up his toys to go home just after the reception began.
The good news was that Boss’ BIL took over, who was a REAL disc jockey in a former lifetime and just “happened” to have a few CDs in his vehicle. He rocked, so the event ended on a high note.
Except that after all the guests left, we realized that Boss and Bridezilla hadn’t enlisted anyone to set the venue back to rights. But there we were, my family and I and some of the in-laws, and we suddenly had, poetically speaking, miles to go before we slept.
Stay tuned for Chapter 7- Pregzilla: Notes from the Honeymoon
Reesesmom made a much-too-late but much more creative suggestion than trashing the footwashing bowls: I think I would have left them and the next time you hosted a breakfast...I would just keep saying "I smell feet"...
Due to having been pressed into service as an emergency caterer , I didn’t get the thrill of being present for the whole ceremony, but I can provide the highlights.
After Bridezilla shrilly (I heard her shrieking from the church kitchen ) banished the wedding party from her bridal chamber for some “she” time, the maid of honor (AKA: Maid of Onher ) wandered around the corridors of the church halfheartedly disparaging Bzill’s temperament. It was evident MOH was trying to be gracious, taking into account that Bridezilla had been railroaded into this occasion on a veritable bullet train, but at the same time, MOH was feeling significantly underappreciated. (understatement alert)
You might remember that MOH had been an eleventh-hour substitute, designated by the groom, because all Bridezilla’s friends had abandoned ship. Boss had made this particular choice for MOH because Bzill had seemed to “hit it off” with this woman the one time she met her. Okay, taking Bzilla’s side for a moment, can you imagine asking someone to be your maid of honor that you had met ONE time?
Since accepting the honor of being head attendant, MOH had stepped up to help host the bridal shower , provide connections whereby the tuxes and gowns were obtained (wholesale, I might add), help shop for said clothing, provide quite a bit of the materials (and labor) to create the bouquets, decorate the church and reception hall, and had outfitted her toddler daughter adorably as a flower girl. All in a space of less than 2 weeks. So yeah, underappreciated about covers it.
Inside the auditorium, the music had begun, right on schedule. There were lots of guests, which I thought was just short of miraculous since every summons had been via word of mouth. Remember, no time for invitations.
I don’t remember exactly at what hour the wedding was supposed to begin, but at the appointed time, Bridezilla wasn’t dressed yet. It was okay though, because the best man had left his tux somewhere , AND the groom’s socks were AWOL. (I’m a little fuzzy on the exact details of the oversights, because I was otherwise occupied with 500 pieces of chicken and several gallons of baked beans.)
While reconnaissance missions were executed for the missing items, the musician in the auditorium, who had been recruited to provide no more than interim keyboard music, decided that the delay provided a grand opportunity for a full-fledged, by-the-seat-of-his-pants concert. He is a burgeoning performer, and has a pretty good voice, so it wasn’t unpleasant, just REALLY weird, because obviously, the audience hadn’t COME to see his show. Dh said he really got into it, crooning and emoting all over the place. Since, with this crew, wacky is a way of life, the whole state of affairs was oddly appropriate.
At last, the wedding party was dressed, in place, and ready to go. I had come out of the kitchen to watch the processional. Bridezilla wasn’t the only member of the wedding party who was having a meltdown. MOH’s young daughter, one of the 3 flower girls, had missed her afternoon nap and was panicking at the idea of being physically separated from her mother in front of a crowd of strangers. Rather than disrupt the ceremony further, MOH handed the shrieking toddler over to her dh, who took her to a remote location in the church, where she could still be heard but not quite so LOUDLY. Little miss continued her paroxysms of grief through the entire ceremony, and MOH’s dh missed the whole thing.
I cut out to go back to the kitchen after the processional, but dh said the service was a little unusual (imagine that). Boss’ clergy of choice was an outspoken mentor of his. He is from out of state, had been shipped in at unnecessary expense, and looks like Colonel Sanders, right down to the white goatee. As testified by several in attendance, it became noticeable during the ceremony that he had not performed many weddings, as he kept losing his place in the vows, and several times asked the bride and groom what came next. Do I really need to tell you that there had been no wedding rehearsal? You guessed it already, I know!
One of the highlights of the service was the foot-washing ceremony. An unusual feature at a wedding, for sure, but it was added because the bride and groom wished to demonstrate their willingness to serve one another. I was able to sneak into the balcony, accompanied by the SIL with whom I was doing the slapdash catering, just in time to witness this ritual.
Bride and groom each had his/her own water basin. As the groom knelt and clumsily unbuckled the bride’s sandals, I gripped the SIL’s arm with my NAILS. I had just noticed, with unembellished HORROR, that those water bowls were actually SERVING BOWLS from our place of business. Oh. My. Gosh. One was a decorative chip bowl used for events and luncheons, the other was my favorite biscuit mixing bowl for breakfasts we hosted. SIL and I ALMOST squealed and/or gagged.
(Sure enough, BTW, those bowls showed back up in their places in our kitchen the week after Boss and Bridezilla returned from their honeymoon. Just so you know, as soon as I laid eyes on them, I slithered out the back door and buried them in the dumpster. :x )
After the pronouncement came the photo montage, documenting both lives from birth to marriage. Boss’ portion was longer because frankly, he’s had more life. We spectators thought we’d watch the age-morphing, catch a couple final frames of the happy couple and the wedding would be done, but Boss’ family members are just PROLIFIC videographers and picture-takers, there’s no other way to put it. So even though Boss & Bridezilla had only been entangled a few weeks, there were just DOZENS of posed photos of them. It was mind-numbing.
SIL and I skipped out of the receiving line queue to see if there were any last-second needs in the kitchen, where the wedding coordinator, another of Boss’ plants, was tying up the loose ends of what we’d been toiling over all afternoon. I'll have to say she was very gracious and even tempered and didn't even look like she wanted to strangle anybody.
The guests wolfed down the chicken & veggies and guzzled the beverages. My youngest DS helped himself to a fingerful of icing off one of the side sheets at the cake table. ( The kid LOVES cake, I was a little preoccupied and dh wasn’t watching him every minute either. Oh well.)
Finally the bride and groom arrived in the reception hall, after the pictures and the ambulance visit. They entered to the Theme from “Rocky”. It was the song they specifically chose for their grand entrance. Now, think about that and all you know about the longevity and relationship of Boss & Bridezilla. I did, didn’t understand, and don’t want to mull it over again, really. But what could that MEAN??? The Theme from “Rocky”?????
The DJ at the reception was the same musician who had provided the tunes at the ceremony. He was a rock star coming down off a concert high. He was also TERRIBLE as a DJ. But he soon had to leave for another engagement. I can’t explain to you how predictably random it was to watch the DJ packing up his toys to go home just after the reception began.
The good news was that Boss’ BIL took over, who was a REAL disc jockey in a former lifetime and just “happened” to have a few CDs in his vehicle. He rocked, so the event ended on a high note.
Except that after all the guests left, we realized that Boss and Bridezilla hadn’t enlisted anyone to set the venue back to rights. But there we were, my family and I and some of the in-laws, and we suddenly had, poetically speaking, miles to go before we slept.
Stay tuned for Chapter 7- Pregzilla: Notes from the Honeymoon
Reesesmom made a much-too-late but much more creative suggestion than trashing the footwashing bowls: I think I would have left them and the next time you hosted a breakfast...I would just keep saying "I smell feet"...
Chapter 5 - Pregzilla: Called on the Carpet
Boss brought up the delivery date subject out of thin air at the office this week. "You saw her," he chirped eagerly. "You think she's going to go early, don't you?" he accused, as though he believes that her gestational maturity must surely occupy my every waking thought. (Um, sure, that's JUST what I was pondering. How did he know???? Not. )
He seemed deflated when I told him that firstborns are statistically likely to be late, and that the size of the baby doesn't have that much to do with "ripeness", in my admittedly limited experience. (I mean, I've only had seven kids.) I get the idea that Pregzilla & Boss are secretly peeved that there are precedents for childbirth. They are out to break all the records. They are definitely sure that they are going to produce the biggest, smartest, most athletic, earliest-yet-healthiest babe on the face of the planet.
Boss subsequently chatted about the carpet remnant he was in search of, for the baby's room. I was kind of surprised - I knew for a fact that their carpet had been in pristine condition just weeks ago. Well, not anymore. Seems an insurgent table lamp had vaulted off a dresser and broken its bulb. All by itself. Or perhaps pushed. By evil spirits. Or by the ghost of Pregzilla's cat, which died recently.
It was just an incandescent bulb, NOT even a CFL(I asked), but Pregzilla flipped out, declaring a hazardous mercury spill and demanded that Boss immediately rip up the hazardous carpeting and pad all the way to the subfloor. Which he immediately did.
Now, I know they've got a vacuum, because boss has previously pointed out that he's been doing the family sweeping, as Pregzilla isn’t and hasn’t ever been able to drag the heavy machine back and forth across the carpet. Or push a heavy dishrag back and forth across a dirty plate, or push a heavy spatula back and forth across a non-stick skillet, among other things, but I digress.
Instead of merely vacuuming up the bulb fragments, they’re planning to replace the carpet, which honestly, they can ill-afford to do. And because Pregzilla didn’t actually RESEARCH any of her misconceived notions, and neither did Boss, they don’t know that regular light bulbs don’t contain mercury. (And frankly, though it’s somewhat debatable, even if it HAD been a CFL that broke, cleanup is pretty straightforward, and the mercury vapor would have been long dissipated by the time baby ever got a crack at the carpet. Particularly since the breakage WAS only in ONE small spot in the room.)
So, because of the afore mentioned challenged finances, they’re looking to get a remnant DONATED. What?? Can you imagine, having the cajones to walk into a flooring business and asking the salesperson to GIVE you a piece of carpeting and pad, enough to do a whole bedroom? I can just see bewilderment on the salesperson's face - "because you're pregnant and you are having a baby and you broke a lightbulb???"
"And twenty miles away, the river overflowed its levee, and the babies there would have poisoned, contaminated MUD to crawl on if their mamas put them down on the floor of what used to be their carpeted nurseries. And you had perfectly GOOD carpeting, but you broke a LIGHT BULB, (not even a "bad" one) and so you ripped UP the perfectly good carpeting and now you want me to GIVE you a replacement (with pad, don't forget the pad) big enough to cover the whole room. Right. Next."
That's my disagreeable daydream of what might happen. Realistically, knowing Boss, he'll probably get the free carpet, free pad and free installation to boot. Shoot, they'll probably throw in new carpet for our foyer at the office. Just you watch. I'll keep ya posted....
A sweet Fishie asked if I'd pointed out that the lightbulb was NOT mercurious:
Not after the poor gullible soul had already ripped up the carpet, no I didn't. He acts a lot on hearsay and jumps to conclusions quite a bit because he's too busy (and sometimes inept) to check out things for himself.
He's the type of person who will get one of those mass emails with the erroneous info (you know, the kind you can easily debunk with a simple Google or Snopes search) and spread the news like Gospel. Before his matrimony, I used to be able to head him off at the pass or at least catch him before he made himself look like a total fool. Since the wedding though, he and Pregzilla are pooling their ignorance and plowing on, and I don't have half a chance. I mean, don't get me wrong - I don't have egotistical delusions of matchless intellect or anything, but I can use a search box.
And as for why I stay on - other than the obvious captivating entertainment - I genuinely believe in the mission of our organization. It's 85% the best non-volunteer job I've ever had , 14.9% just plain unexplainable (although I do try... ) and only 0.1% completely intolerable. Those aren't bad numbers for a job, after all, right? I don't think many people can say they like their jobs as well as I do, so unless something changes for the much worse (which might happen at any moment ), I'm there!
He seemed deflated when I told him that firstborns are statistically likely to be late, and that the size of the baby doesn't have that much to do with "ripeness", in my admittedly limited experience. (I mean, I've only had seven kids.) I get the idea that Pregzilla & Boss are secretly peeved that there are precedents for childbirth. They are out to break all the records. They are definitely sure that they are going to produce the biggest, smartest, most athletic, earliest-yet-healthiest babe on the face of the planet.
Boss subsequently chatted about the carpet remnant he was in search of, for the baby's room. I was kind of surprised - I knew for a fact that their carpet had been in pristine condition just weeks ago. Well, not anymore. Seems an insurgent table lamp had vaulted off a dresser and broken its bulb. All by itself. Or perhaps pushed. By evil spirits. Or by the ghost of Pregzilla's cat, which died recently.
It was just an incandescent bulb, NOT even a CFL(I asked), but Pregzilla flipped out, declaring a hazardous mercury spill and demanded that Boss immediately rip up the hazardous carpeting and pad all the way to the subfloor. Which he immediately did.
Now, I know they've got a vacuum, because boss has previously pointed out that he's been doing the family sweeping, as Pregzilla isn’t and hasn’t ever been able to drag the heavy machine back and forth across the carpet. Or push a heavy dishrag back and forth across a dirty plate, or push a heavy spatula back and forth across a non-stick skillet, among other things, but I digress.
Instead of merely vacuuming up the bulb fragments, they’re planning to replace the carpet, which honestly, they can ill-afford to do. And because Pregzilla didn’t actually RESEARCH any of her misconceived notions, and neither did Boss, they don’t know that regular light bulbs don’t contain mercury. (And frankly, though it’s somewhat debatable, even if it HAD been a CFL that broke, cleanup is pretty straightforward, and the mercury vapor would have been long dissipated by the time baby ever got a crack at the carpet. Particularly since the breakage WAS only in ONE small spot in the room.)
So, because of the afore mentioned challenged finances, they’re looking to get a remnant DONATED. What?? Can you imagine, having the cajones to walk into a flooring business and asking the salesperson to GIVE you a piece of carpeting and pad, enough to do a whole bedroom? I can just see bewilderment on the salesperson's face - "because you're pregnant and you are having a baby and you broke a lightbulb???"
"And twenty miles away, the river overflowed its levee, and the babies there would have poisoned, contaminated MUD to crawl on if their mamas put them down on the floor of what used to be their carpeted nurseries. And you had perfectly GOOD carpeting, but you broke a LIGHT BULB, (not even a "bad" one) and so you ripped UP the perfectly good carpeting and now you want me to GIVE you a replacement (with pad, don't forget the pad) big enough to cover the whole room. Right. Next."
That's my disagreeable daydream of what might happen. Realistically, knowing Boss, he'll probably get the free carpet, free pad and free installation to boot. Shoot, they'll probably throw in new carpet for our foyer at the office. Just you watch. I'll keep ya posted....
A sweet Fishie asked if I'd pointed out that the lightbulb was NOT mercurious:
Not after the poor gullible soul had already ripped up the carpet, no I didn't. He acts a lot on hearsay and jumps to conclusions quite a bit because he's too busy (and sometimes inept) to check out things for himself.
He's the type of person who will get one of those mass emails with the erroneous info (you know, the kind you can easily debunk with a simple Google or Snopes search) and spread the news like Gospel. Before his matrimony, I used to be able to head him off at the pass or at least catch him before he made himself look like a total fool. Since the wedding though, he and Pregzilla are pooling their ignorance and plowing on, and I don't have half a chance. I mean, don't get me wrong - I don't have egotistical delusions of matchless intellect or anything, but I can use a search box.
And as for why I stay on - other than the obvious captivating entertainment - I genuinely believe in the mission of our organization. It's 85% the best non-volunteer job I've ever had , 14.9% just plain unexplainable (although I do try... ) and only 0.1% completely intolerable. Those aren't bad numbers for a job, after all, right? I don't think many people can say they like their jobs as well as I do, so unless something changes for the much worse (which might happen at any moment ), I'm there!
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