The Return of Pandemonic

I can hardly believe it has been three years since I posted as Pandemonic. However, lest you think I have been lazy, incarcerated, or perhaps both, my real life person has been busy writing novels. Also busy working in the Real Life business, but that’s boring.

So far, I have completed three novels, self-published one, and am in the process of editing the other two. Also working on finishing a fourth. So I have been very busy. I’ve also been blogging in my real name.

So why would I come back to the Pandemonic blog?

In a word, anonymity. I love that while here, I am a nameless, faceless pandemonic person. My other blog features my real name. There I feel as though I can’t quite cut loose as myself. You always have to worry about stepping on someone’s toes. If you can say one thing about the modern man, most of us are too sensitive to take a joke, and too closed minded to look at things from varying perspectives.

This is why Pandemonic’s Time and Space was started: as a way to vent and bitch and moan and be politically incorrect without suffering the slings of Internet trolls. Been there, done that, and I can tell you, it’s no fun.

I nearly forgot the password and the email address I had used to launch this area of WordPress. But…obviously not. Perhaps I am not getting as old as I thought I was.

Anywhooo…I will be changing around the look of the blog. I feel a bigger need for anonymity.

Adventures with G-Men and Conquering Paranoia

I love Tigereye. She has the convoluted but perhaps valid idea that just because her favorite ice cream has been taken off the menu at fine ice cream parlors and grocery stores in her area, that means she’s on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List. On one hand, it sounds far fetched, but on the other hand, I don’t doubt it in the least.

I’m thinking it’s an omen, a sign from God that she really should lay off the ice cream.

But no, really. Consider the Federal Government. At the risk of inflaming The Powers That Be and causing them to wiretap my phone and monitor my internet activity, I have to say that their usual modus operandi is to act irrationally. That’s why they are in charge. Sensible human beings would have nothing to do with the Federal Government. I know. I speak from experience.

First of all, My First Husband had a top secret clearance. The CIA was probably watching both of us all through Europe. I made the mistake of writing a rather scathing letter to the ex’s commanding officer, which earned me a couple of G-men tag-alongs every so often. It didn’t matter. I pretty much did what I wanted to anyway.

Later on in my life, I was employed by a government agency, and for about twelve years. During this time, I witnessed an amazing amount of government waste. Some of this was human waste (and no, I’m not talking about what ends up whirling down a toilet bowl). The stereotypical government worker standing around while people are waiting to be served is not a joke or cartoon. It’s a real deal, people.

There’s also a fair amount of wasteful spending. Even in my rather benign section of government employment, I saw first hand that certain supervisors could be paid off. It didn’t take much, either.

For example, let’s say you have an item to sell, like a computer or printer. My old boss was a master at obtaining perks for throwing certain vendors the deal. You can be sure that some of the perks were not monetary or even tangible in nature. Sometimes the perks included rolls in the hay. Yup, he was a slut. Because he was a lecherous boss and guilty of sexual harassment, I ended up filing an EEO complaint. In my complaint, I outlined what was going on in our little cesspool of the government. Handy tip of the day: That’s not a good way to make or keep friends or influence people.

There’s nothing like being investigated by the Federal Government. During my EEO complaint process, I not only had to deal with local police departments, but also with the long arm of the Federal police. The locals might be Keystone Cops, but you don’t want to mess with the federales. For one thing, they have no sense of humor. For another, they tape and record everything. And for yet another, they will trade the information they collect with other agencies, like the IRS and Department of Labor. Doing so unleashes all of the dogs so to speak, and they’re free to nip at you as if you were a tasty pork chop.

The resulting paperwork from my EEO complaint amounted to six inches of pain and suffering. It’s now collecting dust in my basement, an anchor to remind me of what great pals our Federal Government is. (If you cannot detect a sense of snarkiness here, feel free to insert a full can.) In the end, nothing happened to my old boss. I think he’s retired now. I could have been retired now, but I decided that my sanity was worth more than a big fat paycheck and early retirement, so I quit my high-paying government job. I’ve since shucked off my experience with working for the government as continued learning.

In retrospect, none of it was worth it, and you have to wonder why the government would want to waste time and taxpayer money on frivolous crap like this. If only they would concentrate on their jobs, we’d all be a lot better off. They might have even captured the 9-11 hijackers before those dudes got on the planes.

But, as they say, hindsight is 20-20, and for the government to learn from their mistakes would be an oxymoron.


They don’t scare me or the cat, but they sure scare the hubby and daughter…

Silly people. It’s just a bug.

When Office Sex Become “HO-hum”

For the squeamish of heart, I would skip this post entirely.

I never thought I would live to say this, but office sex has become routine. Mundane. Run of the mill.  HO-hum. Bordering (need I say it?) boring.

You’re probably thinking, “Why doesn’t she just do it in her house? Doesn’t she have a bed?”

For the uninitiated, yes, we do have a bed. Several of them, now that many are empty because of nest evacuation by the little birdies. We also have a hide-a-bed in the basement, but there’s a brigade of centipedes down there, and I don’t spend much more time other than running to the laundry room and back.

We also live in a house that is largely windowed with no window treatments. The upside is that the cat doesn’t have to scratch his way up the drapes to get to a window sill. The downside is that everyone, including God, the meter reader and the retired doctor neighbor down the street can see inside straight to the back yard.

Office sex used to be exhilarating. There was a bit of taboo in having sex almost in public, along with incorporating inspiring moves among the furniture usually not conducive to sex. (Ever do it in a standard office chair? That takes some imagination.) We would hurriedly clean up. Sometimes, we would forget the box of Kleenex and have to run willy-nilly (heh, heh… willy?) down the hall to get something to absorb body fluids. (The poor leather couch!) Then there is the fact that we buy Febreze by the case, just to get rid of the lingering odor of sweat and stuff. We own the building, so we can do whatever we want. The business doesn’t officially open until 9, so we would usually make hot nasty love between 8 and 8:30. Our walls are paper thin, but that psychologist who leases the space below my husband’s conference room is never there at that time of day anyway.

Yesterday, while putting my clothes back on, I thought, “Hmm, this doesn’t feel quite as exciting as it used to.” Perhaps it’s because we’ve overused the space. It used to be kind of thrilling in a weird way when the one employee who has been trying to catch us in the act shows up at 8 a.m. to see what we’re doing. It was quite hair raising when the workmen came at 8 to make repairs on the roof and they weren’t scheduled until 9.

I’m thinking a change of venue might be in order. Hmm… I wonder if we can get into a nearby now-closed sports arena?

I’m opening up the floor to suggestions.

And Now, For a Little Diversion

I’m taking off tonight, for the Left Coast. This is because Ms. MiniDemonic has been accepted to a college there, and we are checking it out before signing our life away.

As a result, I will be noticeably absent this week, although I may drop in say hello or rant or rave about something.

I am so happy to be leaving! There’s still snow here, and all y’all know how I feel about the cold wet white stuff.

Dreaming of A Greenhouse Effect

There is upcoming news on the wire that the area will again be hit with another heavy snowstorm. The weather people are predicting eight more inches on top of the six inches we received yesterday. And that was on top of the melting four or five inches that turned into a slick lake of frozen water in my backyard, successfully icing in my pear trees and grape vines.

Oh, whoopee!

I will try not to sound suicidal (or homicidal, right now, at this moment it could go either way) so I took an extra chill pill this morning. I’m beginning to think that the soothing effects of antidepressants are no longer working for me. In order to gather what little sanity I have left before spring (and believe me, I’ve lived through winters like this before. I’ll be surprised if it isn’t snowing on Mother’s Day.), I have decided to think positively, at least for today. I can’t promise what tomorrow will bring, besides the eight inches of snow.

Pardon moi, Al Gore, but I am dreaming of the Greenhouse Effect. It’s not that I want the entire Florida peninsula to disappear under rising sea water (although that would be great fun!), or the North Pole to dissolve leaving polar bears stranded on ice floes, but I need, I desire, I CRAVE some sunshine and fair weather over my own head.

Since I seem to be stranded here at Rust Belt Central, I am wondering if Mr. Demonic can construct a greenhouse for me, enough to cover our house and entire yard. Perhaps he can enlist the help of city leaders and get the entire downtown covered. I’m thinking that would be the best way to tackle the problem. You see, it is 1.1 miles from my house to my office. In between is the downtown area of my city. A large greenhouse spanning the area would solve all problems.

I hear that in Dubai, the rich sheiks there have constructed a similar dome and placed a ski resort in it. In Dubai, they are probably sick and tired of sunshine. You know what they say about the grass being greener somewhere else. They also have more money than a country or people should ever have.

My greenhouse would successfully remove the harshness of winter. Inside the dome, my plants would continue growing far beyond the first frost of October. In fact, I’m thinking winter vegetables can be grown. The Greenhouse Effect would mean my house plants can stay outside all winter. What a great deal for my orchids and cacti. Blooms all year round! I don’t need the scorching sun of Dubai, but it would be nice not to have to venture out in precipitation. Having a greenhouse would mean that what little sunlight makes its way through the clouds would be instantly magnified by glass.

If I had a greenhouse, I could sell my snowblower and shovels.

If I had a greenhouse, I could give away my fur and gloves.

If I had a greenhouse, I could effectively wear light sweaters and jackets all year. My shoes would never be caked with mud and salt.

If I had a greenhouse, I could choose when to put my boots on and go beyond.

Ah, dreams…

Does someone know a sheik’s address? Perhaps one will listen to a personal plea.

Various Items Someone Should Invent

1. Smell-o-Internet. If Al Gore really wants to win another Nobel prize and make his claim to fame, he should honestly consider this. Just think of the possibilities. My internet boyfriend could smell me. I could smell the bouquet of a bottle of wine before purchase. Or you could smell flowers, or chocolate, or big honking donuts without leaving your desk. If people could smell porn sites, maybe they wouldn’t go there. If we could smell garbage, maybe we’d do a better job recycling.

2. A recorder for people on hold. Ever wonder what those people are saying while they are sitting on hold getting madder and madder? A two-way hold button would be a fantastic invention. While the caller is on hold, the phone will also record any noises they make. This would be a wonderful marketing ploy. I could take all of those conversations and put them on the internet or on CD and sell them. Like “Girls Gone Wild” except everyone would have their clothes on. This would be taking entertainment to a higher level than regular reality shows.

3. Since I’m on the subject of phones, another handy invention would be a zapper placed on your telephone for telemarketing callers. Since a lot of these are automated, it would have human and mechanical capabilities. For humans, it would emit a high pitched noise before shocking the caller with an electrical current of enough voltage to send the person flying across the room. For the automated callers, the current would be much stronger, as to permanently disable the server and hard drive of the offending computer caller. My bet is that the telemarketing bizz would show a sharp decrease in the workforce.

4. Vitamins that don’t smell. I hate vitamins because they smell, and I know I should take them. I become highly nauseous when opening the bottle and can barely choke one down with eight ounces of water, a piece of toast, a half cup of coffee and a small glass of orange juice. After all of that, it still feels like it will come back up. You’d think the vitamin manufacturers would want to sell more vitamins, not less. A hint: chocolate flavored vitamins! Make mine Godiva please.

5. Squirrel birth control. If you saw the army of squirrels around here, you’d know why. Why is it that we look at rats like they’re rodents, but we look at squirrels like they are a fluffy little animal? Get with it people! Squirrels are rodents, the same as rats!

6. Garden burgers that taste like real meat. Tofutti that tastes like Ben and Jerry’s. Bran cereal that tastes like anything except twigs and bark.

7. Cars that wash themselves. I haven’t washed mine since last spring. Part of the reason is because I’m too busy to go to the car wash, even the automated one. Another big reason is because every other day some sort of precipitation falls out of the sky, thus making my car just as dirty as the day before. A car that gives itself its own oil change would be a good idea too.

I have more, but I think I’d better go back to work now. I can see a Part II in my future.