Let me start by saying, that Tiffany is a little worried that I might make her look bad! And trust me, Tiff, I am trying, but it is kind of hard. Cause seriously, she doesn't ever screw up too much. It is me that says the really mean things, yells, screams, and curses. Tiffany tends to keep her cool and level me out a bit. So when she does screw up a little, it is even funnier. Cause I screw up all the time, and in big ways. So Tiff, I won't make you look too bad, and yes, I will share some stories that make me look stupid. Trust me. They are coming.
Now. It wouldn't be an accurate depiction of our friendship with out some work stories. But in order to make them easier to follow, I should give you some background.
Tiffany and I first worked for rival apartment management companies. When my company opened a new complex we recruited her. I being bossy, demanded I become the leasing manager. Th manager allowed this to appease me. It really didn't mean anything except I did more work, and received no more pay. But I felt special, and was able to tell people what to do. Technically that meant Tiffany worked directly underneath me. But, like, I said. Not really.
The other girl that worked underneath me was S. We don't like S. For no good reason. We talk a lot of shit about her. Still do. I run into her at the gym almost everyday. I hardly ever speak to her, and when she looks bad I make sure to call Tiffany right away to report. And she always has a camel toe. Ewwwww.
Then there was Bobby. Not his real name. Bobby we like. Except he got really moody, but that wasn't until long after I quit. Bobby was the Assistant Manager. For those of you not familiar with the chain of command in an apartment leasing office, it goes leasing staff, leasing manager, assistant manager, manager. Then you have your lovely supervisor who works with many properties. But back to my point. Bobby was number two in command, but did all of the manager's work too.
Because Frat Boy Mike is an idiot. Really. The worst boss I have ever had. A lot of our stories revolve around Frat Boy Mike. So it helps to have a little background on him. Mike is married with one child. A son. Jill and Mike's son are literally just days apart in age. His wife is nice. Lord help her. Who knows what she was thinking. They all live with Mike's mom in her TWO ROOM house. I don't mean two bedrooms folks. I mean two rooms. And they both made decent money. I am talking two adults that both bring home between 30 and 40 grand a year. This situation still perplexes me to this day. But moving on. Mike liked me for some reason. I don't think he ever had any idea that behind his back, I talked the most shit. He was seriously confused when I quit.
The last player is SheDevil. SheDevil was our supervisor. She graced us with her presence from time to time. She was slightly scary.
So there you have it. Our office.
And I have to warn you. I will soon be taking a break from "A Tribute to Tiffany" to post my "100 Random Things" blog. Because this, folks, is blog number 98! Just two more to go until number 100!
Friday, February 29, 2008
Kanye!
When Tiffany drinks she morphs into her alter ego, Tippy. Tippy is fun good times. And she appears after, like, two sips of alcohol because Tiffany has the worlds lowest tolerance, which is amazing really when you think about how often she hits the box wine before noon. While we all love Tippy, I am pretty sure random strangers do not.
After Tiffany went out to eat one night, she could not keep Tippy at bay. Deciding it was unacceptable to return to her husband and children as Tippy the Wonder Drunk, she hatched a plan. Hang out at Walmart until the buzz wore off. Fine enough. So off to Walmart Tippy went.
The problem? Tippy sees some poor guy and decides it is none other than KANYE WEST. And she wants an autograph.
"KANYE!" She yells! And yells. And giggles. It was so not Kanye. Poor guy.
And, although, Tippy never did get Kanye's autograph, at least we did manage to get one good photo of Tippy and Kanye at Walmart.
Photo courtesy of Tricia's boredness circa 2005.
After Tiffany went out to eat one night, she could not keep Tippy at bay. Deciding it was unacceptable to return to her husband and children as Tippy the Wonder Drunk, she hatched a plan. Hang out at Walmart until the buzz wore off. Fine enough. So off to Walmart Tippy went.
The problem? Tippy sees some poor guy and decides it is none other than KANYE WEST. And she wants an autograph.
"KANYE!" She yells! And yells. And giggles. It was so not Kanye. Poor guy.
And, although, Tippy never did get Kanye's autograph, at least we did manage to get one good photo of Tippy and Kanye at Walmart.
Photo courtesy of Tricia's boredness circa 2005.
As if a stalker wasn't bad enough.
So Tiffany has banned me from telling some of the funnier stories because she is afraid they will make her look like a hooker or make her husband look like a douchebag. I keep trying to tell her they will not make either her or her husband look like big dorks. Seriously, Tipp, white guys who can rap while riding on their kids minibikes are cool, I tell you. And Hubby and Cousin have talent, even if they do say p*ssy a lot in the video. And we all know how much I hate that word. I won't even write it. But, really, we need to talk her into letting us either tell the Captain Hook story or posting a link to the video of her Hubby and his Cousin rapping. So if you could just stop by her page and harass the shit out of her until she concedes, I would appreciate it.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Tiffany's Stalker. Part III.
Okay, see, I have a bajillion funny stories in my "Tribute to Tiffany." And they all make me giggle thinking about them. They make Tiff giggle too. Then we get on the phone and we laugh some more about how fucking hysterical we are. So the point is I have to go ahead and finish up the Stalker story, so I can move on to some of the other stories.
It had been awhile since Violent had shown up at Tiffany's house, but that didn't stop her from calling and calling and calling...until one day. She stopped. Tiffany and I stared at the phone in stunned silence. Maybe it was broken? Was there a dial tone? Surely Violent the Stalker hadn't finally gotten the hint? Or? Maybe she had.
And when she finally got it, it was baaaad. Real bad. It started with the emails. Demanding ones. Apparently Tiffany had a book and an outfit that her child had long since grown out of that she needed back URGENTLY. She demanded that Tiffany mail them to her. Right away. The urgency of it all sort of scared Tiffany. She mailed them out that day.
It should have been the end. But it wasn't. Violent was pissed. And she wanted revenge.
I imagine her sitting at her computer, squinting her beady little eyes (okay, in reality, she didn't have beady little eyes, but go with it. It makes the story better.), rubbing her hands together, throwing back her head, cackling before she settled in to draft her email. The one to the mommies of the online message board. We don't know the exact wording of the email, but I am sure it goes something like this:
Hey Online Message Board Type People,
This is Violent. Well, my real name is Violet. But I stalk people and write scarily demanding emails, so most people have taken to calling me Violent. It fits. And no one ever gave me a nickname before, because I have no friends. Also, I like to tell people about how I have no friends. Actually, it was the second sentence out of my mouth when first meeting Tricia. Come to think of it, I also told this fact to Tiffany right of the bat, which should have been a warning. But that Tiffany girl is a suuuucccckkkkaaaa! And a bitch. Which is why I am writing. I want everyone to stop talking to that hooker right this minute. And if you don't, I am going to show up at each and every one of your homes. If that doesn't phase you, I will call until you have to take the phone off the hook. Don't make me hunt you down.
Hugs and Kisses,
Violent
Tiffany got kicked off the message board the same day.
It had been awhile since Violent had shown up at Tiffany's house, but that didn't stop her from calling and calling and calling...until one day. She stopped. Tiffany and I stared at the phone in stunned silence. Maybe it was broken? Was there a dial tone? Surely Violent the Stalker hadn't finally gotten the hint? Or? Maybe she had.
And when she finally got it, it was baaaad. Real bad. It started with the emails. Demanding ones. Apparently Tiffany had a book and an outfit that her child had long since grown out of that she needed back URGENTLY. She demanded that Tiffany mail them to her. Right away. The urgency of it all sort of scared Tiffany. She mailed them out that day.
It should have been the end. But it wasn't. Violent was pissed. And she wanted revenge.
I imagine her sitting at her computer, squinting her beady little eyes (okay, in reality, she didn't have beady little eyes, but go with it. It makes the story better.), rubbing her hands together, throwing back her head, cackling before she settled in to draft her email. The one to the mommies of the online message board. We don't know the exact wording of the email, but I am sure it goes something like this:
Hey Online Message Board Type People,
This is Violent. Well, my real name is Violet. But I stalk people and write scarily demanding emails, so most people have taken to calling me Violent. It fits. And no one ever gave me a nickname before, because I have no friends. Also, I like to tell people about how I have no friends. Actually, it was the second sentence out of my mouth when first meeting Tricia. Come to think of it, I also told this fact to Tiffany right of the bat, which should have been a warning. But that Tiffany girl is a suuuucccckkkkaaaa! And a bitch. Which is why I am writing. I want everyone to stop talking to that hooker right this minute. And if you don't, I am going to show up at each and every one of your homes. If that doesn't phase you, I will call until you have to take the phone off the hook. Don't make me hunt you down.
Hugs and Kisses,
Violent
Tiffany got kicked off the message board the same day.
Tiffany's Stalker. Part II.
For those of you just joining us, I am currently working on a series of stories called, "A Tribute to Tiffany" cause, well, Tiffany and I are fucking funny. So kick back, relax, and enjoy another installment.....
Truth be told, I blamed Tiffany for the whole Violent incident. Gah! I mean, it was her fault that Crazy was at her house. Yes, I know. Perhaps if I had not been talking shit about her, I would not have been caught talking shit about her. But if Tiffany had just warned me that sometimes she gives in to Violent and lets her come over, then I wouldn't have opened my big mouth. See how I did that ladies and gentlemen? See how I made it all her fault? And? I planned on telling her just how it was her fault. Which I did. I even cried. But first, I had to know.
"What happened when she heard me say that?"
"Ha! I told her you were just jealous of her!"
"And she bought that load of crap?! Moron!" You can see how well I learned my lesson about talking shit. "But seriously. what are you going to do about her calling all the time? You have to put a stop to it."
Tiffany agreed. It did need to stop. But Tiffany is notorious for being non-confrontational, so the only option she could come up with was not answering the phone. I voted for telling her just what a loony she was, but apparently Tiffany felt this was the wrong plan. No. no. no. Tiffany thought it much better to ignore the problem and pray it went away.
It didn't.
Instead, it showed up on her doorstep.
Thinking quickly, Tiffany pulled the suitcases out from under her bed, dragging them into the living room, before throwing open the door.
"Hey Violet," she says angling the door so Violet can surely see the pile of suitcases. "We are just getting ready to go out of town." Like forever. So don't ever call or write. Okay now?
Crisis temporarily averted.
Truth be told, I blamed Tiffany for the whole Violent incident. Gah! I mean, it was her fault that Crazy was at her house. Yes, I know. Perhaps if I had not been talking shit about her, I would not have been caught talking shit about her. But if Tiffany had just warned me that sometimes she gives in to Violent and lets her come over, then I wouldn't have opened my big mouth. See how I did that ladies and gentlemen? See how I made it all her fault? And? I planned on telling her just how it was her fault. Which I did. I even cried. But first, I had to know.
"What happened when she heard me say that?"
"Ha! I told her you were just jealous of her!"
"And she bought that load of crap?! Moron!" You can see how well I learned my lesson about talking shit. "But seriously. what are you going to do about her calling all the time? You have to put a stop to it."
Tiffany agreed. It did need to stop. But Tiffany is notorious for being non-confrontational, so the only option she could come up with was not answering the phone. I voted for telling her just what a loony she was, but apparently Tiffany felt this was the wrong plan. No. no. no. Tiffany thought it much better to ignore the problem and pray it went away.
It didn't.
Instead, it showed up on her doorstep.
Thinking quickly, Tiffany pulled the suitcases out from under her bed, dragging them into the living room, before throwing open the door.
"Hey Violet," she says angling the door so Violet can surely see the pile of suitcases. "We are just getting ready to go out of town." Like forever. So don't ever call or write. Okay now?
Crisis temporarily averted.
Tiffany's Stalker. Part I.
There once was a girl named Violet......but for fun, we call her Violent. Violent holds a special, special place in our hearts, because Violent is a special, special girl. And so the story begins...
"We should start a play group." It was an excellent suggestion Tiffany made. We didn't quite fit the mold of the other playgroups in the area. We were about ten years younger than most of the moms in the other playgroups, and yes that makes a difference. You know, like, when they say things like, "Oh you wouldn't understand, you are soooo young." As if mid-twenties is the same as sixteen. Also, while Tiff and I love our children, we are the first to admit we don't love being moms all the time. The playgroups we had attended were filled with mothers claiming they loved every single minute of parenthood. Smile. Liars. We wanted a group of moms that were real. That complained when their kids cried for hours at a time. Moms that admitted it was a lot harder to be a parent than we ever expected. And also, a group of moms that didn't criticize us for being "young" when we had our children.
We had a few people we were interested in inviting to our playgroup. One of them was from an online parenting board Tiffany was part of. She was about our age. Had three children around our children's ages. She seemed to fit what we were looking for. We set up our first meeting at the mall play area. We were excited. Very excited. We just knew this was the start of something amazing.
It didn't go well. We just didn't mesh. Here were Tiff and I riding on the plastic alligator in the play area, hooting and hollering like idiots. And the other mommies just kind of looked at us funny. Although, they quite nicely took pictures for us to include in our lovely video montage. But it was awkward. We left there, snickering about how weird it had been.
"Wow, good pick Tiff with that Violet girl. She was buckets of fun," I said sarcastically.
"Yeah, I think we are never going to hang out with her again." For the next few days Violet became the butt of our jokes. It was mean. We know. But irresistible. And? She set herself up by doing things like calling Tiffany FOURTEEN times in a row. Girl. She didn't answer. Leave a message, then do what normal fucking people do. WAIT FOR HER TO CALL YOU BACK.
Tiffany eventually became slightly alarmed by the behavior, when Violet started randomly showing up at her house. I mean, that is normal right? Call forty times and when they don't answer, load your bajillion children in the car and drive thirty minutes to their house. Creeeeeepy!
But, the problem was. Tiffany had a soft spot. She felt sorry for poor friendless, creepy girl. So she would eventually answer the phone or open her door. Now, I am not saying having a stalker was her fault, but I told her not to answer the phone! She just doesn't listen to me, though. Shame. So the stalking continued on.
A few weeks after the initial playgroup fiasco, I went to Dallas for an appointment with Emmi's ENT. Something big happened at that appointment. Honestly, I can't remember what. They scheduled Emmi's surgery? Or we got some test results? I don't know, but I do remember that I wanted to talk to Tiffany very badly. I called. She didn't answer. I waited another hour. Still no answer. I drove from Dallas to Houston without hearing back from her. I tried her again. I got the answering machine.
"Tiffany! Damn it! Answer your stupid phone. I know you are there, and I have something important to tell you! Don't make me turn into Violent and start....."
Tiffany grabs the phone. "He-hello," she stammers. She sounds funny. But who cares. I have something important to tell her. Whatever she has going on can wait! I launch into my story. She interrupts. "Oh that's great Tricia." Huh? That response didn't go with what I was saying. I am confused. And now irritated. "Well, I'll have to call you back when Violet and I finish the movie we are watching."
Shit.
Violet. Watching a movie. In Tiffany's living room. With the answering machine about a foot from her head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was not pretty. Not pretty at all.
"We should start a play group." It was an excellent suggestion Tiffany made. We didn't quite fit the mold of the other playgroups in the area. We were about ten years younger than most of the moms in the other playgroups, and yes that makes a difference. You know, like, when they say things like, "Oh you wouldn't understand, you are soooo young." As if mid-twenties is the same as sixteen. Also, while Tiff and I love our children, we are the first to admit we don't love being moms all the time. The playgroups we had attended were filled with mothers claiming they loved every single minute of parenthood. Smile. Liars. We wanted a group of moms that were real. That complained when their kids cried for hours at a time. Moms that admitted it was a lot harder to be a parent than we ever expected. And also, a group of moms that didn't criticize us for being "young" when we had our children.
We had a few people we were interested in inviting to our playgroup. One of them was from an online parenting board Tiffany was part of. She was about our age. Had three children around our children's ages. She seemed to fit what we were looking for. We set up our first meeting at the mall play area. We were excited. Very excited. We just knew this was the start of something amazing.
It didn't go well. We just didn't mesh. Here were Tiff and I riding on the plastic alligator in the play area, hooting and hollering like idiots. And the other mommies just kind of looked at us funny. Although, they quite nicely took pictures for us to include in our lovely video montage. But it was awkward. We left there, snickering about how weird it had been.
"Wow, good pick Tiff with that Violet girl. She was buckets of fun," I said sarcastically.
"Yeah, I think we are never going to hang out with her again." For the next few days Violet became the butt of our jokes. It was mean. We know. But irresistible. And? She set herself up by doing things like calling Tiffany FOURTEEN times in a row. Girl. She didn't answer. Leave a message, then do what normal fucking people do. WAIT FOR HER TO CALL YOU BACK.
Tiffany eventually became slightly alarmed by the behavior, when Violet started randomly showing up at her house. I mean, that is normal right? Call forty times and when they don't answer, load your bajillion children in the car and drive thirty minutes to their house. Creeeeeepy!
But, the problem was. Tiffany had a soft spot. She felt sorry for poor friendless, creepy girl. So she would eventually answer the phone or open her door. Now, I am not saying having a stalker was her fault, but I told her not to answer the phone! She just doesn't listen to me, though. Shame. So the stalking continued on.
A few weeks after the initial playgroup fiasco, I went to Dallas for an appointment with Emmi's ENT. Something big happened at that appointment. Honestly, I can't remember what. They scheduled Emmi's surgery? Or we got some test results? I don't know, but I do remember that I wanted to talk to Tiffany very badly. I called. She didn't answer. I waited another hour. Still no answer. I drove from Dallas to Houston without hearing back from her. I tried her again. I got the answering machine.
"Tiffany! Damn it! Answer your stupid phone. I know you are there, and I have something important to tell you! Don't make me turn into Violent and start....."
Tiffany grabs the phone. "He-hello," she stammers. She sounds funny. But who cares. I have something important to tell her. Whatever she has going on can wait! I launch into my story. She interrupts. "Oh that's great Tricia." Huh? That response didn't go with what I was saying. I am confused. And now irritated. "Well, I'll have to call you back when Violet and I finish the movie we are watching."
Shit.
Violet. Watching a movie. In Tiffany's living room. With the answering machine about a foot from her head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was not pretty. Not pretty at all.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
I am calling this series....
A Tribute to Tiffany
The trials and tribulations of a friendship through the eyes of Tricia.
While on the way home from Austin today, Tiffany and I decided I should present a series entitled "A Tribute to Tiffany." We have so many funny stories that did not get the credit they deserved, because well, we didn't have blogs back then. Although, let's face it, Tiffany has done a piss poor job of updating her blog lately. Also, she never shares her funny stories. Take for instance, the giving away of the kittens today with the girl buying a cat for her boyfriend. I even set you up with the best punch line, Tiffany. "That isn't the kind of pussy he wants," is seriously funny shit. But I digress. I am going to go back, and share some of our better moments. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, and some will scare you (we had a stalker, y'all!).
Until my first installment, take a moment to enjoy a little video montage Tiffany and I put together back in 2006.
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