Lowes sell Bubbles? Humph! Who knew!

Tomorrow is my birthday and I am feeling like hot steamy dookie today. Usually I am very excited that I am turning a year older. I love birthdays. I used to. It's tradition every year my best friend and I would celebrate the entire month of our birthdays and we would call everyday up until the actual day to say something kind, encouraging or sing. This year's song to me is "Happy 49th Birthday!" Followed by...You look good girl! No one will believe you are turning 49 this year! Your skin is some tight! Damn girl you look some good for 49! Mind you, I will be 49 in like a million years from now. She's just a clown and Black Magic knows how to make me laugh when I am in the funk.

To this day, we keep the tradition alive. We have another tradition too. We go back down memory lane. We review our accomplishments with our lives, or lack thereof rather and toy with the thoughts of "what ifs." Talk about heading down a slippery slope real fast...that will do it every time! It's like a cycle. We do it every year.  

So while in this feeling, I asked her if she knew where I could find a bubble. She told me that she knew Lowes sold big ones and little ones, but the little ones were on sale. I would have to come up with a whop for the big one. In our minds, a bubble will house you while depressed. It protects you from being fucked with while you are in your feelings. If you get the big one, it can hold about the size of a bed and a bottle of booze. A little one don't hold shit. That size is pointless.

So we both agree that I can no way afford to purchase a big bubble unless possibly it was on sale. Since Lowes only had little ones on sale, that did me no good. In her role, she decided for me that I had better come out of this funk by 3:00pm today and get ready for my birthday. I agreed to that too.  See, the responsibility of the Bestie, is to make important decisions in the best interest of the other party when they don't see straight. They are to also keep spirits uplifted and excited about birthdays and my Biffaduh (BFF-uh-duh!!!)  comes through every time. What's not to be excited about...after all, turning 49 never looked so good.

What's the P and B?

I work in a position that requires me to pay various items like invoices and reimbursements, things of that nature. To pay these items you need a Cost Center (where the monies to pay are coming from) and a Purpose and Benefit. 

The Purpose and Benefit (PB...not peanut butter!) is a term used to explain and justify spending according to this particular institution's policies.  The more and more I've had to request PB's from recipients, the more I've grown fonder of the term.  Not just for some of the outrageous replies but also for the complexity and weight 3 words can offer to one beyond a payment. 

I'm curious how the phrase can be transcribed by others. Today presented an opportunity for me to put that phrase to the test. Now I have to say, the person I used it on know what it means from a working standpoint but I wanted to know what response I would get if I used it for a personal question. 

Not surprised at all I got just what I thought. Like on the professional side, I usually get one but not the other and have to coach or fish for an answer.....sort of be a mind reader. This experiment was nothing short of the usual, I got the purpose, but not the benefit. I think its substantial and reasonable to know how one's intent can benefit you. And to hear it in the other person's thought really can put things into perspective for the requester, at least in my case anyway. So that will become my new practice. I shall ask, what's the Purpose and Benefit? Then, I shall decide or think on it.

Ewww! Yuck!

I love definitions. I use a dictionary and thesaurus daily. Those two are my most favorite reference tools, more than Google and more than a calculator. I love it because our language can have more than one meaning for a word and some can have the most hidden and unlikeliest meanings. I found this out by evidence of Black Magic and I at work again.

I called her because I was fed up. I was angry at the situation and mostly at myself. I had been asking for it and finally I got it, but it didn't feel like I wanted it to feel. I wanted to be released of something with satisfaction, but on my own terms, and in my own time. When it didn't happen that way, naturally I was pissed.

But somebody had to pay and that somebody wasn't gonna be me. So I did what I know and called who I knew could help me commit a crime. I called Black Magic. After giving her the run down, we came to a resolve. We labeled. We issued a name to it, so when we see it, we know what it is and it's identified. Like an itchy, flaky, red, inflamed, fungal irritation, that appears in the most inaccessible areas of your body is what we've discovered some people or some circumstances can be to me. A fucking RINGWORM!

And like with any plague or disease no matter how you try to avoid it or get rid of somethings on your own, they keep coming back like a ringworm too! Although I'm rid of something or something is rid of me, at first glance, I'm really not because I'm left with the residue and I have to deal with that shit until it goes away on it's own. So for therapeutic purposes, when I see it coming, I call it by it's name.....Ringworm.