Life is Good – November 13, 2009

Welcome to Friday! We made it! The weekend is upon us!

I’ll stop shouting now. Sorry.

Good stuff this week… ummm… let’s see…

I had some busy days at work this week. I know, I know. It’s called work and it’s supposed to keep you busy, but trust me when I tell you that is not always the case these days. So I was thrilled to be invited to participate in a particular project and have something to pass the hours a little more easily.

I had a good workout on Wednesday. I know it was good because I was sore the next day. Kacey’s winter volleyball team is holding weekly team workouts at the gym and she is showing me some of the exercises she’s learned. With any luck, I’ll beef up these spaghetti arms just a bit and prevent the dreaded bat-wing effect.

What else…?

I had a great birthday. There were tons of birthday wishes from friends and family and a couple of wonderful gifts and cards. And I got one of my wishes, a call from my oldest in the morning. The conversation went something like this:

Ring-Ring (Actually, my phone doesn’t go ring-ring. It goes We will find you acting on your best behavior. Turn your back on mother nature. Everybody wants to rule the world…) What? I like Tears for Fears!

Sorry. I digressed again.. so, back to the phone call:

Me: “Hello?”

Brad: “Happy Birthday, ya old geezer!”

Me: “!”

Brad: “Heh-heh.”

Me: “You’re lucky I love you.”

Brad: “I’m just teasing ya, Mama. You know I love you and you’re not an old geezer.”

In other good kinds of stuff, Jake went out and did some social things this week with other people his age. This was a very good thing. He’s a great kid and I love him to death, but sometimes I worry about his home-body tendencies. Did you ever see that movie, The Sandlot, where the mom tells her son, “Go out. Get dirty. Get in trouble… Not a lot of trouble, but some trouble.” That’s what I often want to say to Jake. I’m happy to see him expanding his horizons a bit.

Plans for the weekend? There’s still a mountain of laundry to tackle and groceries to be purchased before we all starve to death. I am possibly bowling in a tournament on Saturday. (I know. You’re surprised, aren’t you?) I am definitely getting together with my sister.

Life is good… except maybe for the mountainous laundry and bare cupboards… but other than that, life is good!

Da-Na-Na-Na-Na-NAH! You say it’s your BIRTHDAY!

Da-Na-Na-Na-Na-NAH! It’s my birthday too-oo-ooo! Yeah!

Yeah, I’m singing to myself today.

Thirty-Thirteen. That’s how old I am today. Yes, it’s my birthday! And I’ve decided to go back to being in my thirties, so thirty-thirteen it is!  (I stole that refusal-to-age concept from Rock Chef, I think… Rock Chef, wasn’t that you?) Really, though, I’m not embarrassed about my age. I’m happy to keep moving forward and really have no desire to go backwards.

There’s nothing special planned for the day. I’m not into having a huge celebration in my own honor. I’ll be happy just to have dinner at home tonight, AT THE TABLE, with the family. And it would be nice to get a phone call from my son whom I haven’t seen since August. Brad, if you happen to read this, CALL YOUR MOTHER! It’s my birthday and I can be demanding today if I want.

Mark gave me a present when he got home from work this morning, even though I already bought something for myself last week and told him it was his gift to me. Last week’s gift is an external hard-drive for my laptop. Isn’t Mark romantic? I guess he didn’t think that was a very good present, so this morning he presented me with a gift card for Victoria’s Secret (which will be easily spent on some new perfume or other such goodies) and some Godiva Chocolates. YUM!

This morning I had my teeth cleaned. No Cavities! WOOT-WOOT! And no gum disease either. ROCK-ON! And the dentist decided the little bump on my tongue was because I bit it, not because my tongue is getting tongue cancer. (Do I know how to celebrate, or what?) Next, I’m off to volunteer at school for a couple hours, then maybe have lunch with my friend afterwards.  And if I really want to party, I’ll tackle the mountain of laundry and go grocery shopping! WOOT-WOOT!

Da-Na-Na-Na-Na-NAH! We’re gonna have a GOOD TIME…..

I’m Over the Top

Gary of the always entertaining Gary’s World graced me with the Over the Top award! (I think the nekkid bowling thing made me a front-runner for the award!) Thanks, Gary!

So there’s a catch to accepting this award. You have to answer a few personal questions, but the catch is, you can only answer each question with one word. One word answers? Kind of a challenge for us bloggers, isn’t it? But I rose to the challenge! 

1. Where is your cell phone? Desk

2. Your hair? Scrunched

3. Your mother? Selfless

5. Your favorite food? Steak

6. Your dream last night? Faded

7. Your favorite drink? Beer

8. Your dream/goal? Writer

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9. What room are you in? Office

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10. Your hobby? Bowling

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11. Your fear? Loss

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12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Secure

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13. Where were you last night? Home

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14. Something that you aren’t? Judgemental

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15. Muffins? Jumbo

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16. Wish list item? Photoshop

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17. Where did you grow up? Minnesota

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18. Last thing you did? Drove

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19. What are you wearing? Jeans

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20. Your TV? Annoying

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21. Your pets? Lucky

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22. Friends? Fun

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23. Your life? Chaotic

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24. Your mood? Peaceful

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25. Missing someone? Yes

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26. Vehicle? Dirty

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27. Something you’re not wearing? Pantyhose

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28. Your favorite store? Express

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29. Your favorite color? Undecided

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30. When was the last time you laughed? Today

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31. Last time you cried? Sunday

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32. Your best friend? Gina

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33. One place that I go to over and over? ATM

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34. One person who emails me regularly? Mom

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35. Favorite place to eat? Mattie’s

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Now comes the big challenge… Who to pass this on to? Who hasn’t done this one? Or more to the point; Who is most likely to participate? Rock Chef? Joe? Jeni? Judy? What do you say?

Nekkid Bowling

I’ll bet you didn’t know that in order to liven things up, some of the teams play a card game while they bowl. I’m not exactly sure how it works, but I think the better you bowl, the more cards you get. It makes things more interesting. 

 

The Ball Busters, though…we’re pioneers. No card games for us. We were the first ones to introduce Strip Bowling! Throw a gutter ball? Lose a garment. First it was bowling without undergarments. Now, bowling without any garments.

 

Okay, okay. You got me. I totally made that up. There’s no nudity allowed in the bowling alley, and let me just say that I, for one, am very grateful for that rule.

 

Although there was no nekkidness, there was a bit of stripping going on at our lane. You see, I always wear a shirt under my bowling shirt. When the temperatures are warm, I wear a tank top underneath. When it starts getting cooler, it’s a long-sleeved shirt. Last night, I had on a black thermal shirt under my Ball Busters shirt. Before bowling even began, I realized I was hot! It was hot in that darn bowling alley! There was no way I was going to make it through three games without developing some seriously embarrassing armpit stains. I knew the games were going to begin any minute. I looked around me. We were in the middle of the women’s teams. The men’s teams were a few lanes down. So I peeled off my bowling shirt and as quickly as possible, peeled off my long-sleeved shirt and then whipped that bowling shirt right back on again.

 

Boy, if it weren’t for the tank top I had on underneath the long-sleeved shirt, I’d have had to actually go to the restroom to change!

 

We bowled the third place team last night. They had to win all three games to take over the second place position. Luckily, they only won two out of three. The Ball Busters are hanging onto second place by a thread.

 

Seems kind of anti-climactic after that whole nekkidness tease, doesn’t it?

La Vida es Buena! November 6, 2009

AND we’ve found our way to Friday once again!

It’s been a good week…

Monday began with a smile as I opened up my email at work and saw a message there from our good friend, Paul, along with a picture that he had attached. My boys had been hunting with him the previous weekend and he managed to capture a rare moment on camera – my two boys, standing together and appearing as if they actually like each other. There are very few such pictures in existence, so this was a treasured gift. I may have to frame it in spite of the presence of dead animals in the picture.

Wednesday brought an opportunity to spend time with the two best girlfriends I’ve ever had. Gina, Kendra and I met at the bowling alley. (I know, I know. The bowling alley. Big surprise, right?) After Kendra finished her league games, the three of us bowled a few games just for fun, then went into the bar to find a table and just talk, since we couldn’t seem to keep the game going for all of our gabbing. That night, I realized how lucky I am to have such amazing friends. Gina has been there for me for over twenty years. She knows me and gets me in a way most people don’t. Kendra is the person who filled those same shoes in an earlier part of my life. We kind of forgot how important we were to each other for a few years and I feel extremely blessed to have been given a chance to renew that friendship. And as the evening wore on, I realized that Gina and Kendra seemed to like each other just as much as I like each of them. How cool is that?

Speaking of long-lost friends, Facebook brought me another blast from the past. Becky is a coworker from the bakery where I worked during my teenage years. The bakery was a family owned place, and those of us who worked there were sort of like a little family. We have such good memories and so many stories from that place. (Suffice it to say that when the owners left teenage girls in charge of the place for the evening, there were plenty of antics.) Kendra was one of my coworkers there and so was Marilee, who now lives just a few miles from me and whose daughter is one of Kacey’s best friends. I haven’t seen or heard from Becky since she left her bakery career to go to college. She contacted me on Facebook yesterday and said she was trying to organize a little reunion of all of the people who worked at the bakery during our years there and wanted to know if  I would be interested. I responded something to the effect of, “BECKY! OMG! HOW ARE YOU! IT’S BEEN FOREVER! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO? AND OF COURSE I’M INTERESTED!” And soon, we were walking down memory lane, catching up on each other’s lives and promising to stay in touch from now on.

And finally,  I’ve been thinking this week about how much I love my daughter and how lucky I am to have her. I was talking with a coworker this week about daughters; particularly teenage daughters. They are famous for causing their parents much angst and frustration. But Kacey isn’t your typical teenage girl. She’s so easy-going and yet so responsible. She’s an excellent student and she has a great sense of humor. She’s a good person and likes almost everyone. She talks to me with ease (and often in Spanish, just to keep me guessing.) I am blessed to have such a great relationship with her. I know not all parents are so lucky. I love that kid.

La vida es buena!

Adventures in Bowling

Bowling was a blast last night, as always.

Shannon and I have developed a routine of going straight from work to the bowling alley. We order dinner and a beer and wind down a bit before the games begin. I guess we’re becoming regulars. It’s gotten so that we’ve hardly pulled up a seat before two Mich Golden Lights are plopped down on the bar in front of us along with a couple of menus. Ben, the bartender, even went so far as to let us know that he charged us for our second beers before we finished our meals because that way we’d get the happy hour price on our next round. We love Ben! I told Shannon we’ve become Norm and Cliff and Ben is our Sammy.

We were pitted against the Mattie’s Lanes team again last night and though we fought hard, they kept us pinned securely in that second place position. But the Ball Busters know what’s really important and in spite of the scores, we had a good time.

It seems that every week, there is some story, the retelling of which requires me to protect someone’s anonymity. This week there was an incident with the under wire in one of the girls’ bras earlier in the day. Rather than spend the day having her boob poked, she simply removed the bra and kept a hooded sweatshirt on all day. She made the mistake of sharing this story with the team and for the duration of the evening, there were nippin’-out and sweaty-boob jokes aimed at this particular woman. Any time she bowled a bad frame, it was blamed on her boobs.

Another team mate may have had a little too much to drink. I’m not saying who, but her name starts with “Gina.” (Oops! Oh well…) Thankfully, this week she didn’t belch at the top of her lungs, then point at me when the guys from the men’s league looked over in shock.

Gina kept wandering over to the table of “more mature” women, the team with whom we had so much fun two weeks ago. These women have taken to referring to Gina as “Ohio” since there’s been so much talk of her moving there, yet she returns to bowling week after week. (Looks like she’s staying through the end of the school year now. YAY!) Anyway, Alishea and I had to keep calling Gina back to our lane to take her turn. At one point, she was sitting on the lap of a tiny little older woman who didn’t look equipped to have anyone sitting on her lap, even a petite little thing like Gina. Those women were like a magnet for Gina. It got so that every time we turned around, she was gone again. Alishea and I were shouting out in unison, “GINA” when it was her turn to bowl again. And when that didn’t work…”GYNA!” (As in vagina. She loves it when we call her that. <=== Sarcasm again…) I’m not sure why, but Alishea and I found this so funny and we were laughing so hard, our stomachs hurt. Apparently, I am a third-grader at heart.

Tune in again next week at this time for more adventures in bowling!

Fecking Monday

The family dinner last night was great. Actually, the food wasn’t so great, which was disappointing since we were at a "good" restaurant, but the company was good. I sat near the sister-in-law with whom I’ve always gotten along very well. She kept us entertained with stories of her new boxer puppy and sprinkled the conversation with sarcastic comments which she knew I’d appreciate. She made use of the word "fecking" a couple of times, only she didn’t really say "fecking" if you know what I mean, and what made that so funny is that she is a very professional and proper woman and that word is very uncharacteristic of her, but give her a little wine and watch her go! Great fun! I love her. She makes me not care so much that there is another who hates me.

Mark’s mom tried to pin everyone down as to their Thanksgiving plans and whether or not she should plan on them. Mark was evasive in his response. I don’t know why. Sometimes he just likes to be difficult, I think. I mean…I KNOW. He seems to forget that I don’t find this behavior funny, especially when it turns the heat on me. Assuming his vague reply meant he thought he might be working that day, mom-in-law then hollered down to me, "Terri, are YOU coming for Thanksgiving?" I kicked Mark under the table as hard as possible without drawing surprised stares and said, "We’ll check Mark’s work schedule and I’ll let you know."

I love when he does that. <=== That is sarcasm, in case anyone was wondering.

I like the word "fecking." I think I’ll use it all day. Feel free to join me!

Scattered thoughts

Another Halloween has come and gone. Kacey made the most of it. I hadn’t hauled out a single decoration as of yesterday, so she went in search of our stuff and put a few things out around the house. She carved a pumpkin and baked a batch of homemade sugar cookies, cutting them into Halloween shapes and frosting them with colored frosting. Thank God for that kid. Sometimes I think if it weren’t for her, one day would just run into the next around here without anyone bothering to stop and take notice of special occasions.

Kacey invited a bunch of girls over in honor of the day. They played Wii for a while, then went trick-or-treating. Yes. This bunch of sixteen-year-old girls actually went trick-or-treating. My mother never would have allowed it when I was that age. But considering the fact that the girls could have been out, driving around, going to the big party that even I caught wind of, and doing god-knows-what, I actually decided that trick-or-treating wasn’t such a bad idea. They didn’t go far and just seemed to enjoy running around and being silly.

I had a couple of invitations to go out and celebrate last night, but passed on them since Mark had to get up early for work today. He’s always willing to go out with friends even when he’s got to get up for work the next day, but either he starts to mention going home just as the fun begins, or he sucks it up, stays late and goes to work exhausted the next day. So I stayed home and passed out candy. There were far fewer kids coming to the door than in years past. The neighborhood is growing up. We used to get well over a hundred kids. Last night there were only about sixty. And there’s too much leftover candy.

I felt good when I woke up this morning. I slept all the way through the night. It was a good feeling. I’ve been battling a bit of insomnia lately, waking up feeling anxious and panicky and unable to shut down my brain. It’s nothing more than the usual worries, but they seemed to be weighing on me a little heavier than normal.

I felt rested enough when I woke up to go for a run outside. I figure there probably won’t be many more days where running outside seems appealing. I wanted to take advantage of pounding the pavement before it gets too cold. It was thirty-seven degrees this morning when I left the house. Perfect running weather for me. I threw on a pair of wind pants, a warm hooded sweatshirt and an ear-band. I’ve come to realize that I run much better in the cool weather. I’m slow but steady. It works for me.

When I first stepped outside, the sky was a solid wall of clouds, making everything a little gray and gloomy. Eventually, the wall began to break up, creating popcorn clouds, allowing a bit of sun to shine through.  The gray was still there, the sun appearing a little weak today. Many of the trees are suddenly bare of any leaves. There was a hefty wind the past few days and those leaves just couldn’t hang on. It makes me a little sad. I like the fall weather, but it doesn’t last long enough. It always gives me a sense that things are ending; like we’re all closing up shop for the winter.

It’s November first already. It’s already snowed a couple of times, but thankfully, the temperatures haven’t stayed cold enough for the snow to hang around long. Everything seems to be changing. My parents leave for Arizona for the winter in two days. Halloween is over and the race to Christmas is on. At least, if you’ve set foot in any of the stores over the past few days, that’s what the retailers would have you believe. Kacey and I were at Target yesterday – on Halloween – and already, the Halloween and fall decor was being pushed aside to make room for the Christmas stuff. I like fall. I enjoy Thanksgiving. I wonder why we can’t dedicate a few weeks of the month to thinking about and preparing for Thanksgiving. These days, Christmas is shoved in our faces so early that I’m tired of it by the time the actual day arrives.

It’s one of those days when it’s almost too quiet in the house. Jake has been hunting for the past few days. He’ll return later today. I haven’t seen Brad since he left for school in August and I’m really missing him. He has met up with Mark and Jake a few times on their hunting trips, so they’ve been able to see him, but he hasn’t made the drive home since school began. I talked to him today and he says he doesn’t plan to come home until Thanksgiving. Sigh! It seems so far away. Even Kacey misses him. Since my kids generally sort of hate each other, the fact that she willingly admits to missing him is huge.

Tonight Mark and I are going to dinner with his parents and six siblings and their spouses in celebration of his dad’s eightieth birthday. Remember me talking yesterday about how silly and juvenile my family gets when they get together? There’ll be none of that when we’re with Mark’s family and not just because we’ll be at a restaurant. There’s always a slight underlying feeling of tension when we get together with his family. Maybe it’s just me. Sometimes I care too much what other people think of me.

I wish it were Monday.

He must have a mutated gene

My parents are preparing to make their annual migration to Arizona. Those lucky retirees get to escape Minnesota before Old Man Winter settles in for the next few months. They make their departure on Tuesday.  Dang, I’m going to miss them.

My sister, Cory decided that a going-away party was in order. And so we all gathered at her home last night for the celebration. There was a LOT of food. Too much food. I pigged out on Cory’s homemade guacamole before we even ate dinner! The food was simple but good. Food always tastes better when shared with the people you love, doesn’t it?

My family can be kind of… strange… at times. Really, it’s my brothers, Jim and Craig who are weird. Certainly not Cory or me. (Don’t worry, Cory. You’re dead-on imitation of the Mick Jagger chicken dance, complete with chicken lips isn’t considered weird at all! You just keep stickin’ that butt out and strutting! And everybody LOVES my Chubby imitation!) But it’s this weirdness that can and often does make our family gatherings fun.

During the party, the little kids mainly hung out in the lower level of the house where there were toys and a television. The adults stayed in the upper level, holding polite conversation and/or trying to see who could do the best imitation of Go Go Gophers and Tennessee Tuxedo while Mom rolled her eyes and shook her head with an ever-so-slight hint of a smile on her face.

We were knee-deep in politically incorrect cartoon impressions and reminiscing about the time when we were young and were supposed to be getting ready for church when Mom yelled at Jim and Craig because Craig, dared by Jim, was running around his bedroom naked and wearing nothing but a football helmet.

Suddenly, the youngest of the kids, Josh appeared with what appeared to be a child-sized megaphone. Holding it to his mouth and pointing it dangerously close to Craig’s ear, he spoke into it, but the sound that came out the other end was a far cry from Josh’s voice. He sounded like a miniature Darth Vader. The toy was a voice changer!

Soon, a second voice-changer was produced and for the next hour, we took turns trying to produce the creepiest of voices. The main entertainment was provided by Jim and Craig as they sung old Billy Squier and Queen songs into the voice-changers.  Little Hannah later came and confiscated one of the toys from her dad, Craig and before we knew it, she and Jim were arguing with one another through the voice changers.

But the *highlight of the evening came when Craig felt a bit of flatulence coming on. (Which happens quite frequently. Where there is Craig, there is flatulence.) Everything suddenly seemed to be moving in slow motion as I caught sight of Craig, sitting on the couch, voice changer in hand… my mouth had forgotten how to form words and I couldn’t find my voice to protest as he lifted his butt-cheek and his hand guided the voice changer to… to… you know… yes… there…

All other conversation came to a screeching halt as the sound of the Darth Vader fart filled the room. A collective groan was heard as I fought back the urge to vomit. No one wanted to play with the voice changer anymore, even after an attempt to sanitize it with Clorox wipes. Mom must have been SO proud.

Please… tell me you have weird family stories too!

*”highlight” is to be taken with a grain of salt.

Nothin’ funnier than 50-year old white women trying to properly pronounce “cracka”

It was a quiet afternoon. It all began when I heard Jane over the cubicle walls.

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“What? WHAT? If you’re still talking, I can’t hear you! What?… Your phone is a piece of crap!” SLAM!

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I strolled over to her desk and teased, “I sure hope that call didn’t land in the recording queue! Your phone etiquette falls a little outside the company standards.”

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“No, it was just my mom.”

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Of course it was. Doesn’t everyone speak to their elderly parents that way?

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Jane then followed me over to my desk and proceeded to rant to Shannon and me about her mother. The mother-daughter relationship there is clearly somewhat strained. Somewhere in that conversation, Jane made reference to her mom being an idiot for calling from her crappy cell phone instead of a land line. She also spoke of her mother’s immense, almost irrational fear of dying. (I’m not here to judge, but merely to tell the story.) Soon Susan wandered over and joined the discussion. As conversations among groups of women often do, the subject twisted and turned until we were talking about something else entirely… 2012, the End of Days, forgiveness, Heaven and Hell, and our own deaths.

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Jane insisted that unlike her mother, SHE is not afraid of dying. She’s not in a hurry, but she’s not afraid.

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“Jane, are you donating your organs,” Shannon asked?

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“I don’t know if anyone would want them.”

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“You should designate on your driver’s license that you’ll donate your organs if you die.”

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“I don’t know,” Jane responded. “I’m kind of afraid.”

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“Of what,” I asked? “That they’ll let you go sooner than they would otherwise if they think they can harvest your organs?”

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“Hell yeah! If I have a spitting chance, I don’t want them letting me slip away!”

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“Do you think it really works that way,” I asked, grinning at Shannon? “Hey! What’s this plug for? OOPS! I pulled it out of the outlet. Oh …. hmmmm…Oh well…Jane? … Jane? Guess she’s a goner. Someone bring me a scalpel! STAT!”

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Jane laughed and gave me the finger.

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Jane’s sudden and unexpected hypothetical departure prompted thoughts of funerals.

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Jane gave directions to us as to how she wants her funeral to play out. Apparently it matters not that she has children and family of her own. Her coworkers are to be in charge of planning a festive celebration of her life. Responsibilities were issued.

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“Sue, you need to make sure that there are no chin hairs or signs of a beard.”

Sue replied, “Sure Jane. I’ll check your facial hair. And if there are any blondies, I’ll get a black sharpie out and highlight them before the viewing!”

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Ignoring Sue, Jane went on. “I want Pachelbel Canon in D played.”

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“Jane, isn’t that a wedding song,” Shannon asked?

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“Yeah, well now it’s a wedding and a funeral song,” she asserted, glaring at Shannon for daring to question her choice in music. “Oh, and at the end of the service, I want one of you to speak in my memory. Your last words should be, ‘Oh, for f*ck’s sake! Let’s party!’”

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“I sure hope you don’t plan to have your funeral service in a church,” I interjected. “They kind of frown on that language inside the house of God.”

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“Oh, no. It won’t be in a church. I’m sure no one would let me in, dead or alive.”

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Susan added one last tip. “And make sure you put together your own picture boards. Don’t let the kids do it. They’ll pick out all the ugly photos. I better get started on my own right now.”

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All this talk of funerals reminded Sue of the funeral of a coworker’s brother recently. It was a unique funeral in memory of this Japanese man, with a celebration after the service to take place at an African-American gentlemen’s club. All of the funeral guests were invited to the club after the funeral service.

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The concept of a gentleman’s club was fascinating to Sue, and as she recalled the night of the funeral, she lamented the fact (as she has multiple times in recent months) that she couldn’t attend the celebration because she had to go home and get to bed. She had to be at work early the next day. She really regretted missing out on the chance to see the inside of this particular gentlemen’s club.

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“I just can’t get over the fact,” she stressed, “that they were going to allow women in this Black gentlemen’s club, much less white honkies!“

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Gales of laughter ensued. That was pee-your-pants and cry funny! Conversation over. Everyone retreated to their own desks to mop up the mascara running down their faces.

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I reported Sue to the Department of Redundancy Department, then shared this helpful entry from the Urban Dictionary:

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Honkies: honky, white people, crackers, whitey, crackas, racist, white, cracker, the man, l.l. bean, crackabugs, crazy ass crackas, honkey, abercrombie and fitch, white bread

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1. honkies - The plural of honky. Honkies: The whitest of meats.

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2. honkies – an acceptable term for a group of white people, specially for description purposes, e.g. reporting to the police. Look they were honkies, you know pig looking officer!

Sue then asked, “So, let me see. ‘Cracka’ or ‘cracker’ is sufficient? I don’t have to say ‘white cracka’?”

And Jane responded, “I would like to modify what you are required to say at my good-bye party. It needs to be ‘Oh for f*ck’s sake, you crazy-ass cracka! Let’s Party!”

And Sue again, “If you ask me to say it, it’s gonna be ‘Oh for f*ck’s sake, you crazy-ass white cracka!’ I don’t want anyone mistaking your white honkie ass.”

Have I mentioned before how much I love my coworkers?