Suzanna Danna

My my my… time really has flown hasn’t it? I am sorry little ones, I have been away, and the drama… aye, the drama, it has been a-flowin. Well, not really, that just sounded sorta corny and like the start of some 1970’s folk song … either that, or a tampon commercial.

So, I’m back from San Antonio. Last week my boss and I put in almost 60 hours. The majority of those hours were spent at a conference for old people in San Antonio. We flew down Wednesday afternoon… wait, let me back up.

I have to ask you people something.

Let’s say you were a meeting planner. No, let’s say you were a sales person for a large convention center in San Antonio. Let’s also say that your name was something that rhymed with Ho-handa and you were about 5’8” with brown hair and eyes, of Hispanic decent and you were wearing a blue shirt and black trousers on Wednesday 8/25/04. Let’s just say, for the record that I hate you.

Let’s also say… for fun’s sake… because here at Princess of Irony, it’s all about the fun and games is it not poppetts?

Let’s say that I called you a frillion and eleventy four times for my boss the week prior to our event Ho-handa, let’s say I called your assistant. Let’s say I called your convention center operator. Let’s even say that I told everyone on your staff that I am just a neurotic little meeting planner and all I needed was just a verbal confirmation and a little compassion from you.

Just a little, “Hey, yeah, I got your message. Yes, your pre-con meeting IS at 4:30 pm. Yes, our administration offices are on the surface of the sun, yes… sorry sweetie, you will have to walk 1000 miles to get here with 80 pounds of audio visual equipment, but we are looking forward to meeting you and your boss… and your director.”

Not that it is my job to set up the pre-con meeting or the registration area… it’s not even my ass on the line here Bub, I was just trying to be a nice gal. Because dammit, I am a nice gal.

So when we showed up, lugging all that shit. Sweating, and not happy to see you and your non-message returning ass, I started to hate you even more. And when you did not apologize or even show the slightest concern for our program or the many, many, many messages you apparently did not get from many, many, many people in your office, I started hating you even more than that… but what did it is the mother of all piss offs.

Let me spell it out for you Ho-handa.

Lack of attention to detail on your part should in no way EVER necessitate an emergency on my part.

Got it?

My boss asked you nicely when you would accept a large shipment of boxes from our supplier. Boxes that are the materials that make up the reason people come to our conferences. You told him Day X. He shipped them Day X.

Your security guards down stairs denied UPS when they delivered said shipment of materials on Day X. UPS took them back to UPS never, never land, and said that they would not be sent out for redelivery until Thursday between 10:30 am and noon…ish. Our conference starts at 7:30 am on Thursday.

You see the problem here?

[Yes, ya’ll… my tense and grammar is all messed to hell and high water but that is ok. You love me and my hair looks pretty no?]

After much hemming and hawing from Ho-handa the wonder-bitch we called the fantastic people at our printing company. They called UPS, the director of the call center of UPS made the girl at our printing company cry, bastard.

Anyway… even though it wasn’t their baby daddy (no clue what that means ya’ll… it just seemed to fit) they put two of their lovely workers on a plane, flew them to San Antonio, rented two Suburbans, loaded up 80+ boxes, almost got denied again by the security Nazis and delivered our materials at 10:45pm Wednesday night. Much love to the printing company, much hate and gonorrhea wishes to Ho-handa.

All she kept saying was not, “I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?” “Can I bear your children and juggle these flaming bowling balls for your pleasure oh paying customer who is giving me commission for putting you and your old ass attendees with an average age of fucking EIGHTY! With WALKERS! in the FURTHEST REACHES of the UNIVERSE! Of the CONVENTION CENTER!” or “You meeting planners rock with your solid will power to not choke the ever living shit out of me right now” *genuflect*

Nope… she just kept saying… over and over… “Well, we’re not like a hotel, we just can’t accept things that are shipped and store them.”

No shit, you imbecilic tard. That is why we asked you when we could ship them.

Hate.

Stupidity makes me crazy with anger.

And also… tired.

But… On the other hand. I really want to smoke. Like a whole forest of tobacco.

Oh, and my sister is pregnant… YAY! Another baby! This was the cutest of all cutestenest.

Is too a word. Hush.

At like… Eleventyfour thirty at night on Friday, my boss and I are stumbling around trying to get our baggage from that twirly carnival of metal thingy (ok… sorry with the words… coworker just helped me out… it’s the carousel in baggage claim… duh Sue… yeah, still with the tired) anyway, my cell phone rang. I looked down to see my parents phone number on the display, it was late, I just wanted to make sure they were ok, but I wanted to call them back when I had my luggage, was in the car and on the (blessed) way home.

I answered and my sister said, “Gray has something he wants to tell you.”

Me: “Can I call you back, I’m at baggage claim… and my bag, there… ”[mumbles]
Reb: “Gray has something he wants to tell you.”
Me: “But, bags… there *points* um… let me call you back…. ” [watches bag go by, makes an awkward lunge for it]
Reb: “Really quick.”
Me: “Call you right back…”
Reb: “Kay.”

So I hung up quickly, watched as my (nice) boss snagged my luggage for me anyway, got it all situated and called my sister back at my parent’s house. She answered right away.

Me: “Hey, what’s up?”
Reb: “Gray has something he wants to tell you.”
Me: “Okee dokee”
Gray: [shouting]“WE’RE GOING TO HAVE THE BABY THOMAS!”
Me: “……what sweetie?”
Gray: [shouting]“WE’RE GOING TO HAVE THE BABY THOMAS!”
Me: “We’re going to have a baby Thomas?”
Gray: [shouting]“YES!”
Me: “How exciting! Can I talk to your mommy?” [Reb gets on the phone]
Reb: “Hey…” [laughing]
Me: “You’re pregnant? Oh My Goodness! How Cool!”

Et al.

She went on to tell me that Gray wanted to name the baby Thomas after Thomas the Tank Engine. I asked her what if it was a Girl, she said she already asked Gray about that. He said her name would be Thomas Elizabeth.

How cool is that?

Can I talk to you guys about some things?

I am convinced that there is something going around. That maybe a bit of crazy is in the air. I have stayed off of the internet for a few days because reading about people I care about in pain hurts my heart… wait… let me see if I can articulate this better.

With Dooce going through her struggles. Amy over at Amalah having a tough time. Pineapple girl, one tough cookie showing a bit of blue. Martha at Random Muse wanting to hide from the world. Trance with so many demons, SSI and prescriptions. Judd in Colorado with his personal and relationship wrinkles. AB with her fertility issues. All of them, all of you.

I may not know these people or you people on a personal basis although sometimes I feel like I do. I know a few of them or a few of you, Erica at Marigold Mind, a private lady with a big heart and a private soul, being one, going through tough times… it just seems like we are all in this together. Like one large wet blanket has been laid over the whole country making it harder for us to breathe, harder for us to turn our faces towards the sun to find the calmer spots the more colorful areas.

It seems we are more apt to look for the angst and not for the love and admiration and the better parts of us all.

We’ll find it, I am sure we will. It may be a long time coming, but I hope, just like neon… this too will pass.