April 26, 2011

Who Is This Ephemily Character Anyway?

Ephemily is a construct, a release valve, an alter ego.  She lives in her pants, doesn't know the meaning of restraint (unless they're leather), and has let her id completely off its leash.  She exists in that moment before common sense grabs your tongue out of your head and says, "You might want to think about the consequences of saying that Hoss".  Ephemily is a curvaceous woman in body and a player in mind.  She wears her reality distortion field like a superhero cape.  Her superpower is that she feels no pain, and gave shame up for Lent in 1963, despite not having been born till 1977. 

April 24, 2011

Billing Department Run By Chimps

I can be an extremely patient person.  I'm forgiving.   I understand "Let he without sin cast the first stone." perhaps better than some Christians.  However, I am absolutely not afraid to say that my gas and water company's billing department is run by chimps.  We've covered that I'm a pretty recently divorced woman.  I think it's somewhat obvious that I'm enjoying it because I don't have to drag anybody along with me on this ride called life that doesn't want to be there.  This also means that my living arrangements have changed.  I'm staying in the house with the purpose of getting rid of it, and my ex and his girlfriend moved out.  That meant that all of the bills in his name needed to be changed to mine.  There were two of them on that list.  All the first one took was a phone call.  The second, being my gas and water company, was not so easily remedied.

The first call to the billing department in December seemed so promising.  We couldn't just switch the existing account into my name.  We had to do a reading on the meter in the basement to verify that the one outside the house was accurate, then we'd shut down the old account and open a new one in my name.  Sure, it could be less tedious, but it was a plan!  We set up an appointment over the phone to have the meter read.  Aaaand, we waited.  The tech never showed up on the scheduled day.  I called back, a little grumpy about being stood up by my creditor. I talked to another agent, and we set up a second appointment, to which their guy was 20 minutes early.  Not that being early is a bad thing, but it's a little unfortunate that I was stuck in traffic at the time and he complained that he'd have to wait.

Alrighty, second appointment snafu dealt with.  I'm expecting the bill to come with my name on it the next month.  Nope, got a call from the ex.  It had been sent to him, again.  I get on the horn and talk with yet another CSR.  I ask them why the bill hasn't been updated.  She didn't have a good answer for me, but promised that the bill would be under my name the following cycle.  *sigh*  Ok, sure.  I am going to let you believe that on its face, but I'm not holding my breath.  Sure enough, bill went to the ex again.  Awesome.  For those of you keeping score, this is the 5th month they've gotten it wrong.

The latest news is that they sent out a bill 2 weeks after I paid the last one, still to my ex-husband, for less than you can get lunch at Taco Bell.  Um, water guys, do you have a room full of monkeys on typewriters hoping for Shakespeare but making due with account statements?!  Really, one of these days, there's going to be a breakdown in communications and I'm not going to get the bill paid on time.  Nobody wants that; I'm pretty sure you want your money, and I'd like to continue to do first world things like poop indoors and wash clothes somewhere other than the river. 

Guess what I'll be doing in the morning.  Yup, that's right.  Making a phone call to the water company.  Wish me luck!

April 14, 2011

And On The Second Day, Mother Nature Said "Let There Be Clots!"

There is something that they never told you in health classes growing up. Certainly, the classic "Girls have a vagina, and boys have a penis" talk garners chuckles from just about any co-ed group, regardless of age. I mean, come on. Our parts are hilarious. They look funny, smell very distinct, and have a tendency to make rude noises when we least appreciate it. So, I can understand why, at the ages of 10-17, the topic of how your body changes in your formative years is kept as clinical and narrowly focused as possible. But, I think in your late 20s, there should be a refresher course.

I know we've discussed my history with artificial birth control previously, and my utter lack of a menstrual cycle for most, if not all, of my 20s. Now that all of those chemicals have been flushed from my body, I'm back on Mother Nature's Christmas Card list. She likes to come visit every 28 days or so too. Just so we stay close. You know how you do with friends, you just touch base now and again. Only, in this case, I'd call her more of a Frienemy than anything. Thing is, she's . . . changed. She's not the way I remember her. And that's why I say I need to go back to school.

Come to find out, a woman's body changes over time. Who'd a thunk it? As a woman reaches both her sexual peak, and inches closer to The Change, her body starts behaving differently. Our arousal threshold changes. Sometimes for the better, sometimes not. In my case, get me revved up enough and I'll walk around with a puddle in my shorts all day. But, if there are days when I'm under a heavy stress load, sex is the last thing on my mind.

Our cycles change; sometimes even from month to month. There are times when Mother Nature rides in on a dark horse and sends her troubadors; water retention, salt cravings, and pimples ahead of her. Other months, she sneaks in on cat's paws to tendely curl up with you and your lover in the pre-dawn hours to leave you to awaken in a crimson puddle of your own making. Certainly, a swift peek at the calender is often all a girl needs to know when to expect the Spanish Inquisition, so to speak. But, sometimes, the days just get away from you. Some days, she just shows up, bags under her arms, and her room isn't even picked up, and there are no guest towels in the bathroom. That woman is a bitch.

What's frustrating too is that her visits are so different! I mean, sometimes, she's very docile, preferring to eat dinner at the table, and read a book till she falls asleep for 4 or 5 nights. Other times, she throws wild parties and invites her friends "unexpected bleed through", "clots" and "terrible cramps" along. There have been times when those have lasted as long as Chuanuka. Talk about torture.

I'm of the opinion that, just like the "Congrats on Hitting Puberty! Enjoy the New Body Hair." class in Jr. High and High School, you should get a "Welcome to Peri-Menopause! Your Body is Gonna Act Even Stranger" with your first mamogram. You can have flatened, manhandled tits AND an education in how your body is going to fuck you, and not in the good way, all in one day. Heck, now that I've had the on the job training, I could be talked into teaching the damn thing. All I ask in payment is uteran ablasion. Seems like fair compensation to me.

April 13, 2011

The Help Desk Catchall - A Call From The White House

It was an average day at the City/County government help desk.  The afternoon was getting long in the tooth, and the mid-day witching hour was quickly approaching.  3:00 PM is about when you should start preparing for the tin-foil hat callers to come out to play.  And oooh boy, did they ever this day.

April 2, 2011

Eulogy For An Old Friend

Oh, my dearest, utilitarian G-Spot vibrator, how I barely knew ye.  Granted, you knew me about as well as can be, inside and out.  You seemed so young!  So virile!  When you first started to lose your potency, I figured it was just the rechargeable AAs.  I chalked it up to them having seen the charging station a few too many times.  Hey, a girl has needs, and this one is trying to keep all that lead out of the ground water by not throwing out countless single use Duracells.

I bought a new set, hoping to rekindle what we once had, and that seemed to be enough for a while.  But then, you stopped doing that thing you do, and it would take some percussive maintenance (smacking it around for those not familiar with the vernacular) to get you to be ready for some lovin'.  Finally, you shook your last shake, and gave up with a sad little puff of acrid smoke.  I cried, mourned, and attempted to move on.  Sure, there are other toys, even more just like you in your pastel purple glory.  But, little wand of joy, you will always be my first G-Spot explorer.  You will be missed.

Let us take a moment of silence to mourn the passing of this member of the Ephemily toybox.