Stressed?

This is like the most horrible-quality image; and I apologize.
Found taped to the inside of our employee break room, it is a copy of a copy of a copy infinity...
Still funny as hell.

With special thanks to Matt Groening

"and that's... okay"

Lest my readers think I am unhappy at my job, or worse, work with a complete bunch of idiots... I really do like my job. And only some of them are idiots.
The rest of them think I'm pretty fabulous. I know, it surprised me too.
I don't want to jinx anything, but I must be doing something right. Beyond "User friendly" and "Funny as hell", my reviews have been astonishingly positive - something I'm not used to.
I really have no reason to complain, and yet I do. Other than the fact that I have this strong desire to jab someone with a sharp pointy projectile, I'm doing good. Blah, blah blah, something about eggs in a basket, blah blah. I don't have a lot to work with, so I cherish what I get.
So, just kwicherbitching already, you might say. I can't! Its what I do. (And quite well, I might add). Thing is, I can't come home and complain to The Boy. The Hubster is pretty tired of it as well. I figure, if anyone would understand, it would be the people inside my computer. I know you "get it", and can put up with the whining and torment. When it gets to be too much, you can just change the channel. These people IRL don't have that luxury. Which is one reason I haven't desired to share my woes with the coworkers up until this point. I don't want to be poor pitiful Julie with an unstable psyche. I want to be Wonder Woman! Or a Solid Gold Dancer. With Farrah Fawcet hair.
Meh. Anyway.
"Because I'm good enough, and I'm smart enough, and doggone it - people like me!"

Nyah nah nah nyah nah nah

Oh, he's so cute! Look at that hair! Awwww... he looks much bigger than 7 pounds.
Really?! 9 hours of pushing? Wow! And no pain meds.
Ok, ok, lets look at Amy's new grandbabies now. Twins! Of course! One of each! Wow, they sure are tiny. Awwww.... she had to have a c-section? She must have been disappointed.
Awww.... I want one. If you know of anyone giving them away, just let me know! Seriously, my boyfriend and I feel like, "if it happens, it happens", no big deal. But I think I want one more than he does. I wish my sister would give me the one she's pregnant with now, she doesn't even want it, she has three already. I've wanted one since I was a little girl. They're so cute and snuggly. I want a whole house full of them.
By the grace of whomever, a sub-fertile coworker stepped in here, explaining how "it's not as easy as it looks: sometimes you can't get pregnant, even when you try really really hard". Of course, her darling 3 1/2 year old gives her a little something to gush about, several times a day, so I can't cut her a lot of slack, but at least she sort of gets it. I mean, it took her 6 months to get him, and she still can't get pregnant a second time. She really should have tried while she was breast feeding. That's the way it works (when you least expect it or don't want it to). /sarcasm
At any rate, I was actually reduced to tears today. I sat there quietly ignoring them, finally realized I could take no more, breathed an odd sob/gulp/sigh thing, and walked reallyreallyquickly away. One person noticed, and called down the hall "What's wrong Julie? Are you okay? Where are you going?"...
{!!!?!}
Don't.you.fucking.imbiciles.get.it.YET?
Time for a full disclosure.
I will tell little miss "what's wrong?" what.is.wrong.
I will tell two of my closest coworkers what.is.wrong.
I will wear a goddamn sign if it helps .
I don't want pity, and I don't want them to have to ignore cute little babies or cease having general conversation about their own children. I just don't think that a teensy bit of respect and/or sensitivity would be tooooooooo much to ask.
And am I the only one who has to fucking WORK around here??? Get busy!!!!

Please pass the muzzle

She always bled during her pregnancies (all five of them). She said it had to do with her tilted uterus, a fibroid, and something else. But all of her pregnancies and babies turned out just fine! As a matter of fact, whenever she hears someone being all worked up about spotting, she just brushes it off with an exasperated sigh and exaggerated eye-rolling, and tells them not to worry because SHE had bleeding during each of her pregnancies (all five of them), and... drumroll please.... all of her pregnancies and babies turned out just fine!
Wow, I said.
Everytime I spotted during pregnancy it ended up in a miscarriage.
Aren't I just an attention-seeking drama whore.

When you care enough to send the very best

Hallmark Rejects:

• "Looking back over the years that we've been together, I can't help but wonder: What the heck was I thinking?"
• "I've always wanted to have someone to hold, someone to love. After having met you, I've changed my mind."
• "As the days go by, I think of how lucky I am that you're not here to ruin it for me."
• "As you grow older, Mum, I think of all the gifts you've given me. Like the need for therapy..."
• "Thanks for being a part of my life! I never knew what evil was before I met you!"
• "Congratulations on your promotion! Before you go, please take this knife out of my back. You'll probably need it again."
• "Happy Birthday! You look great for your age... almost lifelike!"
• "When we were together, you always said you'd die for me. Now that we're apart, I think it's time you kept your promise."
• "I'm so miserable without you, it's almost like you're here."
• "Congratulations on your new bundle of joy. Did you ever find out who the father was?"
• "You are such a good friend that if we were on a sinking ship and there was only one life jacket.... I'd miss you heaps and think of you often."

Don't ask

The less than ideal parking spot. Thanks, kid.

4

3

2

1

lift off

And then

Is nothing sacred?
I have been g00gled. Someone was looking for "free n00kie", and my site appeared (among a gazillion others, of course). What I hoped they realized is that I was advertising "hassle free n00kie", not a freebie. I have credit cards that need paid, dude.

Read it and weep
This article was interesting.
CONCLUSION: Women with prior fetal death are at high risk for subsequent pregnancy loss and recurrent fetal death, with fewer than 25% of pregnancies resulting in surviving infants. These data underscore the need for additional research into the pathophysiology and prevention of recurrent fetal death.

Trying to WORK here
I guess its not considered a "drive by" as such, if you are stuck hearing the same conversation for 8 hours straight. Yes, I'm glad the two of you had such wonderful pregnancies and cute little children, and I'm sorry your one baby was born early and you had a scary 48 hours at the hospital and worrisome first month or so while she continued to thrive, because she weighed the same as my dead baby who was delivered at the same gestational age, except, you know, he was dead and all. And no, I don't want more children, I'm just happy with the live one I've got and the one I get to visit at the cemetery because he never causes me any trouble. Thanks for sharing your birth stories and going on and on and on and on and on and on ad nauseum about how many MONTHS it took you to get knocked up the third time around, and how disappointed your husband was it wasn't a boy. Heh, yeah, that's funny. Could you just imagine if it was twins? What a hoot! Bet that would have been quite the stressor. Hey, um, would you shuthefuck up for a couple of hours, I apparently need to concentrate a little more than you to do.my.damn.job.

How I spent my day off

Having trouble loading the pics, will try them in a different post.

Oddz'n'endz

Am I out of my funk yet? Hell no! But, I figured I might as well make an attempt at posting that doesn't involve crying in my soup.
First off, let me report that I had a very long, drawn-out, yawn-fest of an inservice today regarding corporate compliance, privacy practices, goals, vision, and blahblahfuckingblah.
Half of the people in attendance were snoozing during the powerpoint. I, however, was seated front and center and was forced to doodle my way to alertness. Someone in my general vicinity smelled a little like butter, wrapped up in stale damp skidmarked underwear. I was not a happy camper.
Came home and took a nap. It was a bit warm out, so I cranked up the a/c and snuggled in on the cool leather sofa lined with doghair. Had a wicked dream. Check it.
There were rottweilers and Nazis and my friend with the cancer, her husband, me, and one of those silver Airstream RVs from the 70's. Her husband (in the dream) was portrayed by this new security guard at work, that happened to look quite a bit like Joe, but didn't seem to fit in the dream for any real purpose. Other than the fact I was trying my darnedest to convince him how much I loved him, and I KNEW we belonged together. If it wasn't for the fact that we were trying to outsmart the rotts and the germans so they didn't take my friend away (who didn't seem to mind, she thought they'd just make her work a little bit and then let her return), there was little indication he was supposed to be her husband, other than the resemblance. And the RV was smokin' hot, though it served no purpose beyond a lawn decoration, and a place to hide from the tanks. Oh yeah, I forgot, there were tanks. And dogs can't climb up the side of an airstrem. Booyah.
So anyway, about my bud with the tumor. They did the bronchoscopy, but were unable to get a satisfactory sample. Her needle biopsy was cancelled, due to the location of the mass vs the risks involved, so she's scheduled for another type of diagnostic next week, with possible radiation to shrink it until they can yank the fucker out. They just don't know yet what kind of treatment this particular tumor will require. Small details like that kinda piss with you, ya know?
In other news, I am not cycling this month. I have a vague idea of what cycle day I'm on, but I haven't even temped once. The peesticks are buried at the bottom of the drawer, and there are no red or green marks on my calendar. How refreshing.
Little dawg is back in the cone. She ended up with a golf-ball sized lump on her floppy little ear, and was walking around with her head cocked to the side, looking all curious and running into things. The HotVetGuy told us she had been scratching and digging her ears again, and gouged down into the cartilage, which had then tried to heal, resulting in a big infected bloody wad of goo that needed to be surgically removed. She even had to stay overnight! I was sad. But now I just laugh at her, she looks like a dork. I wonder if The HotVetGuy would do my insemination.
Lastly, I'm coming up on three years since the due date of my first miscarriage, and two years since I conceived Nicholas. And I'm surprisingly calm. I hadn't even noticed the date until now. How do you recognize the due date of a miscarriage, anyway? I don't even know how to write it without sounding silly. It was that pregnancy that blew me out of the water, and started the renewed efforts of TTC anyway. If for nothing else, I can credit it for that. I don't where he/she came from, or how in the world it happened after so many years, but it did, and made me think maybe I'm not completely broken, just a little rusty and dented. So, I took the old ute out on the track for a couple more laps, and barely made it back to the pit. Can't blame a girl for trying. I want my fucking trophy! One for "Best In Show"?

TMI

I know too much. I've seen depravity and honor. Senseless loss and inexplicable miracles. Life, death, and everything in between. The dregs of humanity who continue to get chance after chance after worthless chance, and those of strong character who get shit on at every turn. And I don't get it. If an answer were available, it would come with the disclaimer, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you". And I wonder if it would be worth it.
Manuela wrote recently about divine justice. Isn't that a bit of an oxymoron? Even if I haven't personally suffered through the absolute worst life has to offer, I ache along with my friends, from one's unimaginable grief to another's uncertain future. It is shock and awe and fear and release all wrapped into one little beaten down and torn package.
From the calignous (word du jour) viewpoint of CD1, I must proclaim loudly that I.Have.Had.Enough. I'm tired of playing by the rules. Nice guys finish last. Wish all you want, someone is laughing their ass off at you for your impetuous dreams.
I'm sure in a few days all this negativity will be gently washed away and leave me warm and fuzzy thoughts with bunnies and butterflies and a cool gentle breeze of contentment. Hope springs eternal. Bitter waits its turn.