Just catching up:

Some of you here already know me, some don't.  My previous moniker is dead and shall remain that way forever more, so please address me as FP or fuppet for short.  I'd rather my real name not be used on public sites.

In regards to my old nickname, one I'd been using for several years now, it became more of an egregore than a nickname. In other words, instead of remaining the servitor I created it to be, it took on a life of it's own and was no longer an accurate reflection of me; who I am, who I was, and who I hope to become.

2010 was a hectic year.  I buried a favorite aunt and a good friend, and as sad as that is, at my age one is grateful when a year passes that only generates two funerals.  Both of my folks are still alive and kicking, but my mom isn't kicking nearly as high, having endured major back surgery last spring, leaving her with all sorts of rods and pins and screws in her spine.  She had denerative disc disease (as do i, but to a lesser degree) and the doctor told her she could have the surgery or start shopping for a wheelchair.  She'd already lost feeling in some of her toes and had taken to falling a lot, very dangerous for a woman in her mid 70's.  Anyway, the surgery was a success and she's back to working out at the YWCA four days a week and staying active in her church.  You go, mom!

My husband got FIRED for the first time in his life back in September, and for no good reason at all.  He was working off-site, as a consultant "on loan" to the city's DPU, and the HR manager (his company's, not the city's) kept hassling him to turn in his weekly time sheets earlier and earlier, sometimes even before the work week was over.  It came to a head the last week of September, when she sent him a snarky email at 8:59 on a Monday morning, stating that if he couldn't get his time sheets in by 9:00 AM, she would just assume he hadn't worked at all the previous week.

The company handbook clearly stated that time-sheets for off-site contractors were due in by NOON each Monday, not 9AM.

Panicked by the prospect of not getting paid, he responded to the email immediately with his hours, and then tried to call the woman for clarification in regards to what the deadline actually was, and she let his call go to voice-mail.  A second call an hour later resulted in the same thing.  This time he left a message.  No profanity or raised voice, but clearly irritated.  Another hour or so passed, without response.  He then called her supervisor and left a message.  No response.  By noon he was still uncertain as to whether or not he was going to be paid that week.  He left a message with her supervisor this time.  Again, not raising his voice or using any sort of nasty language, but clearly expressing his irritation.

He finally got a response from the head-cheese, asking him to come to the home office the following morning.  He did, and they terminated his employment, the only reason given was "We didn't like your TONE."

What sort of TONE would YOU have if you'd busted ass all week and were then being threatened to have your pay witheld because some bean-counter in the payroll department decides they want your timesheets three hours before they're even due?  (shakes head.)  The DPU was highly irate about his termination, because he'd been there for several years, having started with a different consulting firm, and the only reason these jerks got the contract at renewal time was by agreeing to hire my husband and one of his co-workers so the DPU wouldn't have to train replacements.

So...they were in breach of contract not only with my husband, but with the city as well.  None of that makes a lick of difference when it comes time to pay the rent, however.  To shorten a long story, they didn't bother to contest his unemployment, but he found a new and better job by the first of November.  Permanent employment, at the corporate office of an engineering firm in Virginia Beach.  Head of a specialized department he is tasked with creating from the ground up.  WooHoo!

The move was a real bitch because he was already in Virginia Beach, working and living in a motel--the job wouldn't wait--and I had to handle every detail by myself.  Hard enough for any (almost) 50 year old woman, but doubly hard for myself due to some intractable and disabling health issues.  I managed, I always do, but I'm so glad it's over and I really hope this is the LAST move I have to make in my life.  I'm tired!

We've been here a month now and really haven't had the time (or the weather!) to get out much and explore the area.  I've found the essentials, like grocery stores, the closest post office, auto mechanic, convenience store, etc.  And we've been out to eat a few times, and spent Christmas day evening in the only tavern open for miles, a place called Greenies, west of here in Norfolk.  I had a decent cheeseburger there, and the ol' man got a basket of fried oysters that were as big as golfballs and so juicy they squirted obscenely when bitten into. 

The drinks were too expensive though.  I don't mind shelling out $4.50 for a shot of rail whiskey if the ambiance lends itself to such extravagance, but this place was pretty dumpy.  Friendly, but dumpy.  (The men's and lady's rooms are the same room, for instance, but there are two stalls, one for each sex. There was only one sink to share between them, however.  Yechh.)

We've been down to the beach exactly once, it was deserted and cold and VERY windy.  This is a windy town it seems.  The temps haven't been too brutal, but even a 40 degree day feels miserable when the wind is kicking up at 20-30 mph.  I look forward to summer when that breeze will be a blessing rather than an annoyance.

Prices here are shockingly high for everything, we're paying twice the rent for half the space we'd become accustomed to, and had to leave a lot of furniture and other items behind.  I'm told that the reason most dinky little 2-BR houses or apartments are going for well over $1000 per month is due to the military housing allowance of $1200 per month for digs of this size.  Yikes, we moved from a three bedroom, two story, 1800 square foot house on seven acres that we were only paying $600 per month for to a ranch style, 850 sq feet, 2 BR, one bath, crowded suburban street right off of Virginia Beach Blvd at twice the price.  It does have a decent back yard, privacy fenced even, and not having stairs to negotiate makes my life easier.  It's just adjusting to such a small place that's been difficult.  I like the location as well, I can be at the beach in ten minutes, I can be in downtown Norfolk in the same amount of time.

For the past year and a half, I've been blogging at www.Blogster.com.  The place looks nice on the surface, it has a lot of bells and whistles that this place doesn't have, but appearances can be decieving.  The place is corrupt, and that corruption runs deep.  The owners are admitted liberals who want everyone to 'be nice' to each other.  At first, the moderation activities were draconian, even indirectly referring to another blogger as a 'troll' could get you suspended...IF you were a conservative.  The tree-huggers and other assorted marxists got a free pass.

Then, with people leaving the site in droves, they adopted a 'no moderation' stance, only taking action when complaints were filed.  The conservatives didn't file complaints against other bloggers, we're the type who eschew nannies and babysitters, preferring to be treated as adults who can handle themselves, even on a blog site fraught with danger!  (/sarcasm)

Alas, the liberals played dirty--as they always do, and logged complaint after complaint not only against yours truly, but against anyone who didn't embrace the fairy-tale world they envision for themselves...and you, even if it has to be created by force.

Adding to the problem was that there were no limits on the number of accounts one could set up from a single IP address so you never knew who you were talking to on your blogs.  Liberals would create new accounts in order to access the blogs they were blacklisted from, decieving the authors of those blogs into befriending them for the sole purpose of 'collecting intelligence' that they'd then file abuse complaints about under their 'true' identities. 

LoL, the owners were SO protective of the gays, the marxists, the race baiters there that I was once admonished to stop rating their posts.  (They had a system there where you could give any post one to five 'stars'.  You could also view any member who had recently read your blog by checking out your 'recent visitors' list.)  So if one of these weenies had a 5-star streak going because their blog had only been visited by their friends, they'd know who gave them LESS than a 5 star rating if someone like me had been by.  Why have a rating system at all if the owners are going to tell other bloggers what they can rate and how they must rate it?  What a crock!

Even private messages were read by the staff and shared with their political comrades and personal buddies.   And the "lists" were always skewed as well.  They had three lists, one for "most popular article", another for "highest rated" and a third for "most commented."  While the site itself forbids commercial activity and the posting of sexually explicit material, there's a chick there that goes by the name of mmmhollywould who does nothing BUT promote her phone-sex/soft porn sites and post explicit content.  And even her lame throwaway posts always hit the number one spot on the most popular list within hours of being posted, even if they'd had very few hits.

How did she manage this?  LoL, I was friends with her for a SHORT time and she told me her dirty little secret.  The main coder there, a fellow named bobski, was one of her customers, and a sexual submissive.  She'd give him a little free feminine domination over the phone and in return, he made sure every piece of shit she posted made the top of the list, every time.  Even if the entire community ignored it.

Turns out that was not the only way she made money online.  She was the queen of sob stories too, even suckered me out of a small monetary gift of $25.00.  She messed up though, and I caught her in more than a few lies...end of friendship on the spot.  She returned my previous kindness by getting her code-monkey slavedog to disable my account.  On New Year's eve, no less.

As I said, the place is corrupt.

So I'm back at JU.  Hopefully Draginol will tolerate my presence.  He only gave me a boot in the ass a couple of years ago because I was playing devil's advocate with him, presenting a liberal argument instead of 'attaboys' out of sheer boredom's sake.

Given the lessons I've learned in my internet wanderings over the past couple of years, I'll say this about the man.  At least he's honest and upfront about his bias.  He's a conservative and this site is dominated by them in the political forums.  While I've never seen him boot someone just because they're a leftist, he makes no qualms about being fair and equitable in regards to who he permits to blog here.  I can respect that, especially after being subjected to the lunacy, lies, and duplicity of blogging on a site where the liberal owners preach about being 'nice' and 'fair' and 'positive' when in reality they are as corrupt as anything coming out of the Chicago political scene.

Time will tell.

There's a certain freedom in not being noticed.  But knowing myself, and how I write, my relative obscurity here will not last long at all.

In leaving, I'll share a poem I wrote two weeks after my husband lost his job in September, before he'd found the new job, and while things were looking grim.  It's called:

Life With Hyde

Sudden separation has brickwalled all expectations,
how fast the old familiars cease to be.
Comforting routines are tossed like so much cheap confetti
So flung into this dismal maze are we.

Muttering menace deep in cups that deny forgetfulness
the bottle brings not the oblivion sought, but increased attentiveness.
Maggots of rage infest his thoughts, they bloat and multiply,
Burst from his mouth to sliver my flesh like hungry, sharpfanged flies.

Greyblack days, with inky gaze, overt hostility,
There's no one else around here so he takes it out on me.
He plots revenge, he feeds his pain, he prays to hateful stars,
With 14 shots of bourbon primed for yet another spar.

Should I speak? Cajole? Fight for control? Attempt to soothe the beast?
Or tiptoe 'round this mine-filled ground for what offends the least?
I vaccilate myself these days 'tween fear and bitterness,
I shut my mouth, or scream and shout, but always fail the test.

I need some daily respite from the murderous thing that hides
Just behind the black malignance glittering in his eyes.
The 50 hours, (including lunch) I used to get each week
Have been revoked by some foul bloke, in some strange fit of pique.

So now I reside with Mr Hyde around the clock each day.
The markers that divided time have all but slipped away.
Dreadful days and tear-drenched nights that never seem to end,
But end they do and with the sun, come slouching 'round again.

If you can find this beast a job I'll stand fast in your debt,
It's been two unholy weeks so far, he hasn't found one yet.
He'd excel at torture, inquisition, swing executioners ax,
Death comes to all, but if paid in cash...at least we can pocket the tax.

Copyright 10/10 SGMcM  (plagiarize me and be hunted down like a feral pig.)

~

Welcome to my blog.  Blog on!

fuppet.