The cubicle walls are bare. All the cabinets and drawers are empty. Almost. The write board is completely white, except for the lone Café Rio magnet in the corner. The name tag I created is the only thing left to prove I was once there. But it won’t be there much longer.

I say goodbye to the head of Accounting, thanking her again for lunch today. The head of our corporate Finance Department wishes me luck in my future endeavors. He really doesn’t know me. But I accept his good wishes. What else can I do?

Heading down the stairs, I feel the tears wanting to come. But I hold them back. Not today. I will not let my emotions…well, you know.

I remember how earlier today my boss refused to talk about tomorrow being my last day. I will miss her. I know she will miss me. I think she feels badly that she is now staying on another month. A recent change. I don’t blame her. I feel so grateful to have met her and gotten to know her. It is sad that she will be there alone now. I will miss her.

I walk out the door and get in my car. I only have to do this one more time. Tomorrow.

My last day.

I know it will be hard. Very hard. I don’t want to say goodbye. I work with some great people. I am forever changed by having them in my life. I refuse to let them walk out of my life when I walk out the door for the last time. I think it will be slightly easier knowing I will meet some of them later for drinks.

And I WILL drink.

I back my car out and leave the parking lot.

One more time.

Tomorrow.

I am in my last week of work. Four more days until I am officially laid off. Is it bad to say that I already wish it was over?

I received my separation packet last Friday. I was totally fine while the HR rep went over the agreement. That was until he thanked me for my professionalism regarding the lay off. Which made me start thinking, “Well HELL how am I supposed to act it’s not like I didn’t know this was coming for a YEAR NOW and can we just get this over with, cuz I don’t wanna have to think about this right now I have to go deal with my daughter’s first weekend visitation with her father and I HAVE to be home right now and OMG I’m gonna be without a job and divorced and what the FUCK am I gonna do I’ll be an outta work divorcee student with a daughter at home who will be hitting puberty soon enough and I’M TOTALLY FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW BUT I REFUSE TO LET YOU SEE ME CRY MOTHERFUCKER!”

Yeah, he really doesn’t have a clue how close he came to being stabbed right then. Prolly for the best.

**********

It’s been a week since I made the husband move out. How am I doing? Well, I’m handling it. That’s all I can do right now. Take each day as it comes, knowing that some days will be better than others. School will keep me busy, especially starting next week when I won’t be going to work anymore. And I have a long to do list that I plan to make a huge dent in. Finally.

I’m staying strong for my daughter. Even though she is dealing with it fairly well so far, I know this is hard for her. She was understandably upset when her father moved out. And she was sad after her first visitation with him bcuz she felt she didn’t get to spend enough time with him. I completely understand that. I tell her that it’s okay for her to feel sad, angry, etc. about the situation. I tell her that none of this is her fault and that her father and I love her VERY MUCH. I tell her that I’m here for her to talk to about anything. Anytime.

I am amazed with the changes in me I have already seen. The past two years I was hiding more and more at home. Hiding from the tension. Hiding from being hurt. Hiding from him. And I was losing myself in the process. I feel I am coming back now, though, and it feels really good. I know I will stumble occasionally, but I am definitely moving forward. Forward is good.

**********

Friday was the Elton John/Billy Joel concert at the Energy Solutions Arena (which I don’t care what you say, it will ALWAYS be the Delta Center to me). The concert was originally scheduled in November, but had to be postponed bcuz of illness (Damn old men, WTH? Never mind we partied it up big time anyway WITHOUT YOU. So there!).

The show? Well, it was AWESOME!!!!!

We started out in nosebleed seats. They were totally fine cuz the sound was great and they had a screen set up above them so you could see a little better on that when they showed them. But then, Sarah’s dad got us down on the floor. YAY SARAH’S DAD! Y’all are jealous now. I know. Billy played one of my favs of his songs, Allentown, and the two of them played one of my fav Elton songs, The Bitch is Back (which means more than they will ever know right now ). Michelle and I sang pretty much all the songs (loudly of course) and it was a blast. And I will never forget Billy Joel talking about how he always wanted to “mess up” Marie Osmond when he once used the Osmond studio for rehearsals. And if you’re thinking oh no he di’int? Oh yes he did. LOL

I haven’t gone through all the pictures yet, but here’s one of Billy and Elton together on the screen.

Did I mention that the concert was just plain AWESOME? Yeah, well, it’s worth repeating. Trust me.

**********

So. I’ve been hit with a lot of spam comments on my blog for almost a week now. I know I’ll never come close to dooce or The Bloggess, but does this mean I’m getting closer to being in the big leagues?

No? Oh, ok. I’ll keep working on it then. j/k

Disclaimer: Today’s GTT post has the potential to be really REALLY offensive. Yeah, I know. What about my blog ISN’T really really offensive? Point taken. However, if you would rather not take the chance of being offended, you should click over to read about trolls. Cuz honestly. What’s offensive about trolls?

Hey! Did y’all hear? The Olympics are going on right now. No, not the games with the swimmers and the gymnasts. The OTHER games. The WINTER Olympics. Yeah, the games with the questionably masculine figure skaters and the red-headed snowboarding god that made me totally wanna have his babies last night. That is, if I even wanted to have any more babies. And since this baby factory is permanently CLOSED, I’m thinking the chance of me having his red-headed babies is… um… ZERO. But I bet he dies his hair anyway.

Anyhoo… Today’s Girl Talk Thursday question asks “What would you be an Olympic champion of?” Well, shit. That’s easy! I don’t even have to think about this one AT ALL. And it’s a totally new Olympic event, so the gold is gonna be all mine. ALL MINE. Wanna know what it is?

Blow Jobs

Bet you wish you had clicked on that link to go read about the trolls right about now, huh?

And now I bet you’re asking, “Is she SERIOUS?”

Well, if today were different, I might write this whole long thing about my prowess with oral sex and leave you really scratching your head wondering if I was dead dog serious or if accidentally overdosed on Nyquil last night and was still feeling the effects.

But today is what it is. So, I guess a better answer to the question is that I am an Olympic champion of survival. I’m trudging through this challenging course that is life. With my latest set of obstacles of staying in school, looming unemployment, and being a single parent. Again. And I’m surviving. I’m still here.

I’m not the only one out there doing it, though. We all do it. We all make it through each day, through all the trials and challenges that are set before us. Sometimes we miss and take a deduction. Sometimes we totally crash and burn, eliminating any chance for a medal on that round. And sometimes we TOTALLY FUCKING ROCK IT and get the gold.

And that’s all we can do.

I salute you all, fellow champions!

**********

So raise your hand if you were even the TINIEST bit curious about what I would have written if I had stuck with my 1st answer. Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. Y’all are as sick as I am. Good for you.

Please don’t make me go here! PLEASE!

Valentine’s Day.

You know, I can remember a time when I really looked forward to Valentine’s Day. A day when I would give ‘something’ to the people who mattered most to me at the time (even if it was just the perfect card). A day when I would wait with bated breath to see if I received ‘something’ from someone who thought I was special to them (which happened more often than I thought would yessirree!).

But now? I’m not sure what I think about Valentine’s Day.

Ok, so yeah, I admit my turmoil has something to do with the current state of my marriage. Honestly, who wouldn’t be affected by that? It’s possible that once things settle down on that front, I may be able to look at Valentine’s Day as I once did in the past and welcome it back into my life with open arms.

But then again, maybe not.

**********

A former coworker once told me that he and his wife didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. I was still wore my heart-shaped rose-colored glasses at the time, though, so his words kinda shocked me. And, of course, I HAD to ask…

“Why?”

His answer was interesting. He explained that he and his wife felt it was more special to do something romantic on any other day of the year, not on the day when romance was encouraged and (for many) expected. They both felt that when romance was unexpected and spontaneous, it meant more to them.

I told him I understood what he meant, but I don’t think I really did understand. Then.

Fast forward 15 years. And I think I get it now.

I would rather have romance any time that was heartfelt and sincere and… meaningful… than have a lifetime of Valentine’s Day gifts that might have very little thought behind them (have you met my husband?) and that might be given out of a feeling of obligation.

That being said, if flowers show up for me on Valentine’s Day? I would be ok with that. You might even catch a smile on my face. I’m not nuts after all. Yeah, I know there are some that would beg to differ with that.

Just no candy. Cuz then I really will have to stab someone.

I’m not really sure how it came about, but this morning I started thinking about nicknames I have had over the years. And I have actually had quite a few. Most of them came about during (or shortly after) high school, which could totally mean something. Maybe. Anyway, I thought I’d share some of them with you.

Happy Cat – A (guy) friend of mine started calling me this out of the blue one day. I found out he started it bcuz he thought I was happy. All. The. Time. And that was when the commercials for Happy Cat cat food were on the air. So, there you have it. I got named after cat food. And it stuck. My graduation mug has my name as HC Stacey. True story.

J.B.T. – Decisions. Decisions. Do I tell you what it stands for? Or not? I can start off by telling you a GUY gave me this one. You’ll totally understand in a minute. And one day he just started saying, “Hey J.B.T.!” But he refused to tell me what it meant. He wanted me to guess. I never could figure it out on my own, though. So a friend who had been let in on the ‘joke’ told me that the first part was a type of food. No help there dood. He then went on to tell me, “Jelly…Bean…”, and I tried to punch him. Which did me no good cuz he was on the wrestling team, and well, you know. Then I made the mistake of telling someone else about it (another guy) and he never let me forget it. But that’s ok, cuz his nickname was Hot Rocks due to a little Ben Gay ‘incident’ at band camp one year (I didn’t do it!), so payback’s a bitch.

Did you get it yet? Lemme help ya. Jelly Bean Tits. Yeah, high school guys are SO mature. *eyeroll*

Weenie – Tanya gave me this one. We met at band camp the summer before my senior year. (Are you sensing a trend yet? Ya should.) And I cannot for the life of me remember why she gave this to me. But she still calls me by it. Tanya? I’m getting old! Can you remind me? Again?

Phone Sex Girl – I JUST remembered this one as I was writing this post. No, it doesn’t mean what you THINK it means. Perverts. A friend decided that my voice was perfect for phone sex. When I was 18. But then he got called a ‘girl’ when a group of us got caught by the cops hanging out at Ladd’s Marina, so I totally think we’re even now.

Puddy Cat – The husband gave me this one. And I hated it. So it wasn’t just sent to the nickname cemetery. It was sent to the nickname crematorium, NEVER to be heard from again.

Utah Hostage – Tanya’s responsible for this one too, although it isn’t really a nickname, per se. But…I do actually know how this one came about. YAY ME! I’ve been in Utah for the past 7 years, but it was only supposed to be a temporary move. Thus the birth of the Utah Hostage. It IS a little anti-climactic, isn’t it? I know, you were thinking it would be something sexual, weren’t you? WEREN’T YOU???

The funniest/most embarrassing nickname that I ever received, though, is really what this post is about.

I was a band geek in high school. I might have mentioned it. And I loved being in band. Our band was awesome. TOTALLY awesome. Hand on the Bible, right hand raised, “I solemly swear to…” awesome. No joke. Our band director was a little nazi-ish, but the ends totally justified the means. Sometimes. Sometimes it just caused us to let off a little steam.

Letting off steam often times involved practical jokes. We were notorious for them. Let’s put it this way, you were taking your life (and at times your face) in your own hands if you fell asleep on the bus to a band review. Especially the guys. I put pink lipstick on our teddy bear of a tuba player, who came after me when he found out that I did it. Another guy ended up with a complete makeover, including WATERPROOF mascara (not my doing I SWEAR!). Remember the Ben Gay incident I mentioned before? All I’m gonna say is: Ben Gay + underwear = Hot Rocks. Nuff said. Yeah, nothing was safe in our group. NOTHING.

One night, another band member talked me into writing on her boyfriend’s windshield with lipstick. Yeah…I know…twist my arm, right? While we were in the middle of it, we were caught by his friend (yet another band member) and ratted out. We couldn’t let him get away with that, so what did we do? Put soap in his trombone mouthpiece. I know! We were merciless! Unfortunately, we were ratted out AGAIN. WTH? Can’t we catch a break?

Now, mind you, I was not the mastermind for either of these pranks. I was just along for the ride. The fact that I was all, “Yeah! Let’s DO IT!” does not in any way imply MY guilt.

We had after-school marching band practice the next day. I headed to the locker room to get my flute. As I came out, I noticed some of the guys grouped around the piano, but didn’t think anything of it. I SO should have known something was up. I went over to the other side of the band room to get ready. I opened my flute case. It didn’t look right. There was something YELLOW in there. This can’t be MY case. And in a split second, it clicked. Someone put a condom on my flute!!!!! I immediately slammed the case shut and ran out of the band room, half laughing (cuz it really was fucking funny as hell!) and half crying. I don’t even remember if I took my case with me or not.  I know those assholes were still in the band room rolling on the floor laughing cuz they got me. And they did. They got me good.

I seriously considered going home. Right then. The after-school practices were required as part of the class grade, but I didn’t care. I was ready to just say, “Screw you guys. I’m going home.” (The guys from South Park totally stole this from me and I have yet to be paid for it. Assholes.) A friend came out, though, and calmed me down. I went back inside, got ready, and headed out to the field for practice.

But they weren’t through with me yet. Not by a long shot. Out on the field, I got the rest of it. I got my new nickname.

You ready for it?…..

Rubbermaid

No, I am NOT kidding.

And it stuck. Like duct tape stuck. For 3 MONTHS!

**********

So, now here is where I put it out there to you. What funny/weird/hated/embarrassing/awesome nicknames have you been given? Can you beat Rubbermaid? Can you come close? I desperately need someone to commiserate laugh with right now until I start drinking again and forget all about this.

A year’s worth of plans, emails, phone calls, and even a few boo-boos here and there finally came to fruition. To say I was excited? Yeah, doesn’t even BEGIN to cover it.

Leaving SLC
My flight was at 7 am. UGH.

I set my alarm for 4:30 am. Stacey doesn’t DO 4:30 am. That is unless it’s 4:30 am because I’ve been up all night playing Guitar Hero and singing ’80′s songs. Then it’s NO PROBLEM. I might as well have stayed up all night since I was up until after midnight finishing my homework and packing anyway. And I figured I would sleep on the plane, which kills two birds with one stone. I had no idea how wrong I was.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

By the time I actually woke up, the clock said 4:40. Yeah, you might be saying, “Wow! 10 whole minutes!” But this is me. Not a morning person. It’s hard for me to get up (I can be down right bitchy) and I need every minute to get ready with none to spare. I tore outta bed and everything became a blur from then until we left for the airport.

One GOOD thing about having a 7 am flight? There is NO ONE on the road. One BAD thing?  No breakfast and NO STARBUCKS! I was cranky, freezing my ass off (cuz I was already dressed for Miami, or cuz I was stupid – take your pick), starving, and badly in need of caffeine.

Got to the airport, checked in with Sky Cap (and was pleasantly surprised to find out that I only had to pay $15 for my bag since we had booked our trip so far in advance), and headed inside. The line for security was AWFUL. I figured I was gonna be there until I turned 50. But then a TSA Agent directed ‘seasoned’ passengers to another line. If it got me in a shorter line, HELL YEAH. I think I was through security in about 20 min. SCORE!

I flew out of SLC on American. Do you know what airline SLC is a hub for? Delta. Not American. D-E-L-T-A. Where are the majority of the vendors in SLC? In the B gates. Which are for? Delta. Where was I departing from? The A gates. Cuz I wasn’t on Delta. Do you see a pattern here? Cranky, freezing, starving, and in need of caffeine, with nothing except a damn Quiznos in sight! And it was almost time to board the plane. *sigh* I was not a happy camper.

I boarded the plane and found my seat. A window seat. I prayed to the airplane gods and thanked them for my window seat. I would be ok. Well, sorta ok. Lemme back up a bit. Those who know me really well, know that I don’t fly well. At all. I HATE to fly. I give white knucklers a bad name. Don’t believe me? Let’s take a flight together sometime. I guarantee you will never fly with me again. I once had a flight attendant watch me VERY closely on a flight from Austin to Chicago, bcuz I was about to break off the armrests. True story.

The plane was fairly empty, we were pretty close to our departure time, and I had my window seat. All was good. And then? A family with a young girl and an infant came to the back of the plane and sat…behind me. And where did they put the young girl? RIGHT BEHIND ME. What did she do the entire flight? Kicked my seat. The parents? Were comin due for a couple of bitch slaps. Seriously? One of the things I drilled into my kids over and over again was about showing others courtesy and respect. I would have done a HELL of a lot more than just saying (in a voice with no authority whatsoever), ”Don’t put your feet on the seat. It’s not nice.” I would be all, “Get your gawd damned feet down RIGHT NOW!” But that’s me.

I almost fell asleep once with my head against the side of the plane, only to have her kick the seat which shoved my head into the window frame. I nearly went over that seat and duct taped that kid’s legs above her head. But then I remembered I left my duct tape at home. I really have to learn to remember that stuff. You just never know when it will come in handy.

Needless to say I couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.

Layover in O’Hare
I totally lucked out. My flight from SLC arrived at one gate, and my flight to Miami departed from the gate right next to it. And what do I see as I get off the jetway? STARBUCKS! I think I might have drooled a little. But then my stomach chimed in with, “Um…HELLO? You haven’t given me anything in like…5 DAYS. ME FIRST!” And then my bladder jumped in to the conversation with, “Well I can make things really embarrassing for you REALLY FAST HERE.” So bladder trumped stomach, bcuz OBVIOUSLY. And then stomach stomped all over my mocha frappuccino craving, so no Starbucks for me.

My friend Michele’s layover was in DFW. Have you ever been to that airport? It’s a hub for American, so I bet you have at some point. Ok, so raise your hands if you EVER had to get off at one gate only to have your connecting flight depart from a gate on the other damn side of the terminal, or better yet, ANOTHER FREAKIN TERMINAL ALTOGETHER? Come on, GET YOUR DAMN HANDS UP! You know you have. Well, this was what she had to deal with. I was calmly waiting for my flight to Miami, while getting texts that my friend might not make her connecting flight. I was crossing fingers, legs, eyes, ANYTHING I could think of to send good vibes her way so that she would make her flight. Which she did. Cuz I haz GOOD JUJU.

Arrival in Miami
The flight from Chicago to Miami was pretty uneventful. I managed to keep my anxiety to a minimum and even chatted a bit with the nice lady sitting next to me. As soon as we landed, Michele and I started texting. Yes I KNEW that we were gonna see each other in just a few minutes, but it took FOREVER to taxi to the gate. And then I didn’t know which gate I was arriving at, so I couldn’t even tell her where to meet me. We finally found each other & set off to take care of priorities (bathroom, food, drink – & not necessarily in that order, except the bathroom. DUH.).

Got our bags, caught the shuttle to the hotel, and met up with the rest of our group. By now my stomach was rebelling. And not from lack of food. We were finally in the promised land. And my stomach wanted something with liquor in it. Now. A shot of 1800 & a Sam Adams plz thankyouverymuch!

Ok. Time for food. Holly wanted Cuban food since we’re in Miami, and we were all up for that. The hotel recommended Mojitos Cuban Restaurant in Dolphin Mall, which is (just what you’re thinking) a mall. (And I had to actually look up the name of the restaurant cuz I totally forgot it. OOPS!) The food was really good and the Sangria was AWESOME!

After dinner, Holly found us a cab that would take us to get alcohol for the ship. Two stops later, we had wine and liquor. We were SET! It was back to the hotel and an early night cuz the next day we were all gonna be sufficiently drowning our livers. No need to overdo it on the first night, right?

To be continued…

I’m posting my fav pic from my camera for each day of the trip (except the last one bcuz I didn’t take a single pic that day, go figure) For day 1, here is the group at dinner in Miami:

Mojitos in the front. Sangria in the back. Does anyone else notice how my boobs are on the table?