Archive for February, 2004

Moore no more

I got Gracie’s new birth certificate in the mail today. Wayne and I had her last name changed to his when we went for the first meeting at the child support office, and I just now got around to getting everything changed. It took me a little over a year to get it done. That must be some sort of record for procrastination. I had to hurry up and get the birth certificate taken care of, because kindergarten registration will be sometime next month (I still can’t believe she’ll be starting school in August!). Now comes the hard part. I still have to get her name changed on her Social Security card, her insurance, with her doctors, etc. At least both of my kids have the same last name now, and maybe people won’t ask me if they have different dads anymore. That bothers the hell out of me. And besides, Natalie Grace Turner has a much better ring to it than Natalie Grace Moore.


I don’t want to work

Well, actually I do. It’s just that I hate that getting used to a new job period. I’ve only worked on day so far, and it went okay, but we weren’t exactly busy that day. There’s so much stuff to remember! I’m afraid I’m going to freeze up and forget it all. I’ll probably be okay once I actually get there, though. It’s just the getting there that’s hard. I hate working in fast food! Blech. I should probably go finish getting ready. I’ll be so glad when this day is over!


Why in the world is it so hard to find a pair of freaking black pants? I finally found a pair at K Mart, but I had to go to Scottsboro to get there. Scottsboro is about the same distance from here as Chattanooga, but it’s south instead of east, and the traffic is a lot lighter. I hadn’t been there in a long time, and I enjoyed the drive. I was prepared for Arien to scream and cry for most of the drive, but I got lucky and she slept the whole trip. I found out why Waynie’s in jail, too. His granny came by to see the girls, and she told me. He got indicted on something he did last summer, and they picked him up last night. I’m not really sure what she was talking about, but I heard something about transporting, and I assume it was something to do with drugs. So, even if he does get bailed out, he’ll probably be sentenced to serve time anyway, so what’s the use? It’s probably best to let him stay in there anyway. Maybe he’ll learn something from it and finally grow up. Nah, he’ll never grow up. He’s going to end up in prison just like his dad.

Waynie’s in jail!

Wayne called me at about 9:00 last night. I didn’t look at the caller ID before I answered it, or I wouldn’t have been so surprised about what he said. He asked me if I could do him a favor, if I could come get him out of jail. At first I thought he just needed a ride home, so I said I would. Then he said, “It’s going to be at least $400 to get me out.” What? Where am I supposed to get $400? No one in my family is going to loan me any money to get him out of jail. They all hate him. Then he wanted to know if I could get my dad to sign a property bond. Yeah, like my dad is going to risk losing his land to get his daughter’s sorry-ass ex-boyfriend out of jail. He might if we were still together, but after all the shit he put me through, my dad would probably just laugh in my face if I even asked. It’s not that I don’t want to help him. I hate the thought of him being in jail. He’s only been in jail once, and he had to stay overnight because I was at work and I didn’t know. I remember how he acted after that: like a scared kid. But, there’s nothing I can do. If I had the money, I would get him out, but I have about $7 to my name right now, so he’s up shit creek, I guess. Let Daphne get him out. Of course, she’s probably happy that he’s in there, she probably had him put in there. I’m not really sure.


I got the job! Oh hell yeah! All thanks to Jenny, the best friend in the world. The manager told me that she normally checks all references, but she didn’t for me. She hired me because Jenny recommended me. I’m only part time until I get my training in, and I’ll be on first shift while I’m training. I’m going to second because the manager said she needed “a mature adult to run the back line.” What that really means is that everybody on second shift is about 16, and they have to have someone over 18 to operate the slicer. That’s fine with me, though. As long as I get paid, I’ll be happy. I’ll be starting some time next week. I won’t know exactly until tomorrow when I take all my paperwork back. But I do know that I’ll be working every day Jenny works, because she’s going to be training me. That should be fun, Jenny’s hilarious.Before I work, though, I have to find a pair of black pants somewhere. I have looked everywhere in town, and all I could find was a pair of leggings. Well, I did find one pair of regular black pants, but they were tight in the waist and huge in the legs and ass. It was like they put a size 14 waistband on a size 18 pair of pants. That’s the bad thing about being fat. You can’t find good clothes just anywhere. Basically all the plus sized clothes they have at places like WalMart look like they were designed for old ladies. I’m 23 years old, I don’t want to dress like my granny!I’m very picky about my clothes, too. I don’t like to wear pants that have tapered legs. They make me look like an ice cream cone, all pointy at the bottom. I don’t like wide leg pants because, well, my legs are big enough as it is, I don’t need a pair of pants that makes them look like freaking tree trunks. I prefer flares, and even they have to fit a certain way, or I won’t buy them. I want them to fit snug until the knee, then flare just a little. A good pair of pants is hard to find, and I’ll try on every pair in a store until I find the right ones. The best-fitting brand I’ve found so far is L.E.I. The only problem with them are that they only come in one length. I have to cut about 3 inches off the bottom for them to fit right. I’m 5’7″, so it’s not because I’m short. I’ve come to the conclusion that whoever designs these clothes thinks that all fat people are 6 feet tall. Okay now, back to the point. I’m going to have to make a trip to Chattanooga tomorrow just to get some pants for work. Eww, Chattanooga traffic on a Saturday. I usually make it a point to not go to Chatt on the weekend. The traffic is bad enough during the week. Why can’t they just let us wear tan pants like every other fast food place does? I found plenty of decent tan pants while I was shopping. I even found some cute camo ones. Did they just stop making black pants or what?

regarding the post below

If you would like the password to the protected post below, email me (remove the NOSPAM). I protected that post because I don’t want certain people to read some of the things I wrote, but if I know you and you’re not one of those people, I’ll give you the password. Be warned, though. It’s long, rambling, and full of foul language.

that sucks

After one day back on the job, I’m laid off again. What was the point of them bringing us back, just to let us work for one day? They hired some new people who started yesterday, too, but they didn’t get laid off. That’s the main reason I’m so pissed off about this. That, and the fact that I was promised that we wouldn’t be laid off again any time in the near future. I blew off an interview, which could have led to a more stable job, so I could go back to work there. If the woman that called me hadn’t promised that we wouldn’t be laid off, I would’ve told her that I wasn’t going back, that I had another job. I thought I was making the right choice by going back to work there, but as usual, I was wrong. I swear, I have the worst luck in the world. I did get a bit of good news this morning, though. Jenny called and told me to be at Arby’s at 3:00 for an interview. I thought that since I didn’t show up the other day, that I wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a job there. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and they’ll hire me. Maybe I’ll get even luckier, and they’ll have an opening on first shift. It’s going to be really hard for me to work second shift, because daycare closes at 4:30, and I’ll probably be working until 10. Babysitters are hard to find these days.