Wednesday, January 31, 2007

All you nay-sayers can bite me now...

I'll be posting pictures soon of the almost-completed living room update that the fiance and I have been working on since we started it back in June by painting the new color. (Not pink.) We got the new couch yesterday, and the new lamp that I ordered from Tarjay (which I think I wanna hump, it's so beautiful...but I won't because I'm sure that would just get it all messed up and stuff...), and I just can't wait to show everyone how awesome it looks, because my dastardly and secret plan all along with this blog is to create many, many jealous-of-me readers who can't help but keep return to read about my ultra-fabulous lifestyle as I update about it. Mwahahahahahaha!!!

Seriously, though. Be jealous. Because the new living room is looking pretty fuckin' nice right about now.

Ok, seriously seriously now...I don't want anyone to be jealous. Because for a small fee, I can tell you how to achieve such awesome living roomness on your own.

Wait a minute...I just thought about it, and (a) I'm not an interior decorator, so scratch that last bit I mentioned. Also, (b) I've spent a good amount of monay updating our living room this way, but it's because I can. If you can't, then I can't help. (It's worth it to me, because we've chosen stuff that, while it's somewhat expensive, it's still got a promise of longevity that most cheaper versions, a.k.a. my previous couch, don't have. Also, I've noticed that the higher quality items make my living room look like a much richer space, if that makes any sense. Also, spreading out the updating makes it less painful, pocketbookwise. I'm smart like that, yo...)

There are some things that can be done for a decently low price, though. The Target lamp only cost me $50, I think. To which some might say, "Pa-ho!!" But all of the lamps I've bought from Target over the years (and each and every lamp I have in my home is from there, mind you...) have both lasted as long as I've wanted them to (excepting the ones that have been knocked over in clumsy moments, causing replacements to be made accordingly) as well as maintained their stylish mannerisms while living in my bedroom, living room, kitchen, etc...THAT makes it worth my while, I think. Plus, if they do break, I don't have any reason to cry over them. Because they only cost me between $25 and $50. So, yeah. Just replace them. It's my same theory that I apply to sunglasses I purchase. Why spend fucking $150 on a pair when I'm just gonna lose them or break them or something...I'd rather get a pair from Target or Limited for $24. (Ironically, those are the ones that tend to last longer than anything else I own!)

Other stuff that can make a room look nice and sleek is the proper art. My choice is old Audrey Hepburn prints, as well as a few smaller prints of movie stars from the 30's, 40's and 50's that hang in different parts of the room. Also, a great big mirror that I bought years ago when it was on sale at the P.B. (That's "Pottery Barn" for the Faith-knowledge-challenged of you out there...) Big mirrors are the shit, I think. They really make an average room look a bit more stylish, IMO.

I'm also not a matchy-matchy kinda decorator. My lamps are all different from each other. I use a nesting table that I bought (also from the P.B.) years ago for a side table on one end of the couch, and a brand new, shiny side table from the Dolce collection from Target at the other end. While I had the entertainment unit stained to match the color of the coffee table (also Dolce collection), it was bought at a barewood furnishing store, and therfore the style of the piece is a bit different from the other stuff in the room. In the kitchen, we have a black cabinet that stores our overflow of dishes, pans, and all my cookbooks. It matches because my appliances are all black, even though the countertops and cupboards are light. Mismatching shit in this manner makes things look more homey, warm, and professionally decorated. 3-piece sets from Jennifer Convertables only wind up making someone look like they tried too hard. (If you have something like this in your home, first of all, don't be offended by what I just said. This is just my opinion, after all. Secondly, try going out and picking up a slip-cover for one of the couches that coordinates with something in the room, whether it be one of the colors on the couch, or something in a rug on the floor, or maybe even the curtains. You'd be surprised at what a difference it makes, and it's cost-effective!) A long time ago, I bought a chair from Anthropologie that I love, love, LOVE, and which has truly shown me what quality furniture can be over time. I paid a lot for the was a floor sample that was on sale for $800. Just a chair. Crazy, no? But here it is, something like 8 years later, and that chair has really stood the test of time, my ass, and even a cat that used to piss on it on a regular basis. It was the bext furniture purchase I've ever made, and even though it's a different style, material, and even a slightly different color than the new couch, they really look good together. I knew I would find it a match that made it happy someday...

Anyway, I'll be posting pictures of it all for you to critique...and then when we get the bookshelves we wanna get, I'll post more. But we haven't found them yet, so I can't. In the meantime, you are welome to make fun of the cheesy, fake-wood shelf that I currently have in there amongst all the nicer stuff. Maybe it doesn't look as bad as I think it does. You guys tell me, once I post the pictures.

I gotta go now. Hope this wasn't too boring for y'all! I'm just feelin' all decoratorish, and wanted to share. I'll be better tomorrow, I promise.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Stuff on my mind...

It’s mean cold outside. Not normal cold, mean cold. The air hates all human beings, and is taking out its wrath upon us here in the Midwest this week.

Yeah, global warming. Uh-huh. Sure, I believe its happening.

Also, I’m not clearly understanding this horse issue. It was the number one story on Good Morning America this morning. #1! Not to sound like a complete asshole here or anything, even though you guys all know I really am one, but a horse died, ok? That’s…sorta kinda normal, I think. What is NOT normal is the doctor having to pause to fight back tears while talking about their decision to finally euthanize this poor creature. Perhaps I don’t fully understand the sport and the feelings involved with it. I’ve watched “Black Beauty” and “Seabiscuit” and those sorts of things…I know how dear animals can become to some people, and have even experienced overwhelming feelings for an animal myself once or twice (the day we had to put our first family dog to sleep has been engraved into my mind forever…). But it’s the main news story? Nothing happening in Iraq? Nothing going on in politics?

Oh, holy jeezy…I just looked up’s page and saw that in it’s top story line-up, it’s including a story about a ridiculously stupid $155 million house (why do people feel extravagance on that level is necessary, really?), something about the UN being all freaky about global warming concerns, some guy that Bush nominated to a “CENTCOM” position being all wary about our position in Iraq, and this horse thing. Oh, and a new surgery that might be able to help victims of that “lobster claw” syndrome thing where certain people are born with their fingers all pulled together into two big fingers instead of being all separate. Because THAT’S information that all the world should know about.

I’m feeling a bit picky today, it seems. Let’s move on…

I’ve been feeling a bit more introspective than usual lately, and I’m not sure what’s up. Could be attributable to a number of things. The e-mail I wrote to a friend the other day which included a “quick” re-cap of my toughest teen year(s) started the brain a-workin’, and it just hasn’t really let up since then.

I’ve been thinking about how ill-equipped I was to deal with the new issues I had to deal with back when I was 13, 14, and 15. I’ve been thinking about how it’s all changed since then, and how it must be for a kid in this day and age (only a decade and a half later, and I’m calling it “this day and age”? Christ…) to have to get by. With shows like “My Super Sweet 16” and “Laguna Beach; The Real Orange County” (which, by the way, no it’s not…) on MTV to watch and sort of learn from, it must be awfully confusing. I had Mike Seaver and Vanessa Huxtable as t.v. peers when I was growing up. 13 year olds these days look at people like Lauren from what is purported to be a real slice of Orange County life, and they think that she’s normal somehow. That mumbling when you talk, and throwing parties that most grown ups would consider to be extravagant and unreasonable for teenage entertainment, and being a general asshat is ok and what’s expected of folks. And that struggling with which boy issue to deal with first is the most important task to consume oneself with rather than something like an important paper that’s been assigned, or what truly fascinates and interests them and how can that become a career for them one day down the road? It’s. Messed. Up.

And now that I’m old, I have confused thoughts like I did when I was a teenager, but it’s more boring, to a degree. While one day I catch myself wondering if I’m doing the right thing with my life, the next day I’m too exhausted to care about anything other than making it through the day somehow, going home and eating something or other and then try not to fall asleep while watching the latest Anthony Bourdain. This morning, I marveled over the fact that my body has changed as much as it has in just the last 10 years. 10 years ago, if I had worked out this hard and this much, I’d have lost at least 2 pounds a week, if not more. Now that I’m almost 33, I work out this hard only to be comforted by the idea that I must be building muscle, and the cardio training I’m doing is keeping my heart strong as well, and that’s all that matters. Never you mind the fact that my belly is bigger than ever and has almost surpassed the boobage in the distance it sticks out from my main frame work; that will take care of itself over time if I keep up with my strength training (which was particularly evil today…just the way I like it!), and the super-tough cardio workouts that I’m gradually becoming more accustomed to. Each day, I think about how much I’ve grown to love cooking, and I wonder if I shouldn’t look into a change in careers further down the line. But it’s a fleeting thought, and usually a conversation with the fiancĂ© about his work life shakes me back to reality in a quick manner. I’ll just keep my cooking confined to our kitchen, I think.

Could all of this recent flashbacking and foreshadowing all be attributed to my approaching birthday? I just realized this morning that it’s next week…the Twin and I will be 33. As I drove from the gym to work this morning, I couldn’t help but think of the line from “When Harry Met Sally” when Sally was crying over the news of a former boyfriend’s engagement to the girlfriend that he started dating after they had broken up, and she said to Harry, “And I’m going to be FORTY!” in a manner that made it seem like it was the end of the world to reach that somewhat middle age. Harry wondered what she meant? When would she be forty? With a dramatic pause and a toss of the hands she replied, “Someday!” It makes me laugh to think of it now, as it did this morning. Not just because it’s a well-delivered scene from a silly, beloved film, but also because I have started to refer to my age not just by saying how many years old I’ll be at this next birthday, but also tending to add the, “…only 7 years to 40!” statement on top of it. I have a lot to count down for, though. Ok, I have one BIG thing to count down for…I’m getting a boob job when I’m 40. It’s gonna be my gift to myself for achieving the beginning of those formidable years when the middle essentially begins. I’m having them reduced and lifted, and I can’t wait.

Anyway, I got some stuff on my mind, is all. And we’re getting our new couch today. And I froze to death on the way to the gym this morning. And I’ve discovered a yoga class that I can actually start to attend at the gym in the evenings each week. And work is too easy at this point, and I’m starting to get scared about what's coming. And I haven’t the first clue what I’m going to make for dinner tonight, which kind of makes it more fun for me, actually.

See what I mean? I got stuff…on my mind…

Monday, January 29, 2007

No title. Just an update.

Just an FYI and as follow-up to my post from the other day about the old lady that was walking home from Price Chopper in the snowstorm...

I saw her walking down the street on Friday when I was coming home from work. So, YAY!!! She didn't catch pneumonia and die because of me being an asshat last week!

She's a trooper, alright. Woo doggy!

Next time I see her walking home in nasty weather, I'll be stopping and offering her a ride. This past week of wondering whether she'd died because of me not stopping was a rough one, dammit. Plus, as nice and fun as I think hell will be, I'm the type of person that would rather be too cold than too hot. So I worry about that sometimes...

Friday, January 26, 2007

Musical Commercials

I didn't post anything yesterday because I instead took the time to send a note (i.e. short novella) to a blog friend in hopes to help them out in a current situation they're dealing with. Plus, I didn't really have anything much to talk about besides the weird behavior of my bowels between about 9:30 and noon, and I think I've done enough shit-talking around here for the week.

Last night, as I lay on the couch attempting to overcome a serious bout of dizziness that came out of nowhere (I'm buying a carbon monoxide detector on my way home today, because I can't figure out what else it might have been...), I half-watched the re-run of Iron Chef that was on Food Network, and half dozed off, because apparently I turned 85 this week without noticing.

One thing I did notice, though, is that Kia was a major sponsor of last night's Iron Chef rerun, and they MUST get a new ad out soon. Must. Before I find where they are located, take the advertising department hostage, and maim the person who was in charge of the current ad they have on the air. At one point, I finally paused the t.v. at the beginning of the commercial (I'd already seen it once, during the first commercial break they had for the show...and once is enough) so I wouldn't have to watch/hear it again, and then did some stuff that needed to be done (took out my contacts, put dirty dishes in the kitchen, etc...) so I would have some stored up "pause time," which, as most Tivo users (and the regular DVR people as well) out there probably know is something that we can't believe we ever lived without before this beautiful and fantasico invention came into our homes.

Ah, remember the days when all you could do was mute the t.v. when an annoying commercial came on? Yeah, me too...

Anyway, this commercial SUCKS BIG, FAT, MOTHERLESS FUCKING WHORE BALL ASS, as they are using an old, tired, somewhat cute tune from a movie that was out in theaters, ooh, about 30 years ago, and they are trying, unsuccesfully IMO, to make us believe that it applies to their sales floor techniques, or some shit. You guys know what I'm talking about...don't say you haven't a clue. I'm not gonna sing it or write any of it or anything, so if you don't know what I'm talking about, count yourself as one of the lucky ones, crawl back under your rock, and have a nice day. (Let me know if there's room under your rock for one more, please...)

Not only do they sing it wrong...I don't know if they were trying to "pop" it up, or some shit...but the words don't make sense as they sing them. (Shit, I'm gonna have to write some of it here to illustrate my point! Dammit! Ok, just know that I didn't want to have to do this.) For example, this big black dude with a fake-ass smile on his face sings, "I hate to go and leave this pretty sight!" as he waves to someone driving out of their showroom in their new minivan. The guy doesn't go anywhere except back to the group of retards that are all dressed alike to sing and "dance" some more. The MINIVAN left the showroom. So they are the ones that are going and leaving any kind of sight, pretty or what have you.

It. Bugs. the SHIT out of me!

As today is Friday, and things are still pretty slow around my new job, I'll be spending most of my time over here today, hopefully finishing up reading it and figuring out how she got the book deal she was offered. (Funny blog...especially if you enjoy food, which I do. I plan on picking up the book sometime soon, too.) I also need to research a few other things online, none of which have anything to do with actual work, seeing as I still don't have access to a bunch of stuff I need access to, so I get to "play" most of the time I'm here. After a 20-minute long conversation with the Twin on Wednesday, she finally asked me, "Do you do any work at your job?" I thought for a moment and said, "Not today. But yesterday was kinda busy." I'm expecting that when the hammer finally comes down, it's gonna come down hard. So don't be too jealous of me.

Adieu! (DAMMIT!)

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

You want some candy, kid?

Ok, are there any children out there that haven't been warned about the whole strangers-offering-candy dealio? Because this guy seems a bit behind on the times.

Maybe if he offered the kid $100, or something.

It's just so 80's to try the candy bit, IMO!

What was nice to see was how a stranger that was driving by thought enough about the situation to stop and ask the child if everything was ok. This confirms for me my place in hell, as I passed up a good samaritan task over the weekend when it was snowing on Saturday. There's this absolutely adorable ancient, ancient woman that lives around the corner from my house (actually, she's about 4 blocks away, but it's not far is my point), and I see her walking all over the place all the time. One day a few weeks back as I was walking Izzy, I passed her when she was taking a break on a curb. I smiled at her as we approached where she was sitting, and she asked me as I passed, "What kind of dog is that?" I told her that she was a terrier of some sort, but we weren't exactly sure, and she just replied, "She's very cute!" I thanked her, and kept walking. We passed her again on another block around the corner from there, so I figured she was just out for a walk that day, not headed in any place specific.

But on Saturday, as I was on my way to the local drug store to pick up some drugs, I saw her walking home from the Price Chopper at 75th and Metcalf with a bag in each hand. It had just started to snow, and she hadn't even reached Lamar yet. (Her house is on Nall at about 73rd Street, I think.) The walk isn't a super long one, especially for someone that's used to doing it all the time, as she clearly is. On my way back from Walgreens, I saw that she was still walking up 75th Street on her way to her house. She hadn't gotten very far in the 10 minutes it had taken me to pick up my prescription, and the snow had gotten a bit heavier in that same amount of time. I thought about how I would have liked to offer her a ride...but she was on the opposite side of the (very busy!) street, and I also wasn't sure how she would react to my offer. I didn't want to scare her! So I kept on my way, constantly double-thinking myself all the way to my destination.

I haven't been able to forget about it since.

I really should have turned around and offered her a ride home. The woman can't be a day younger than 85, and here I was in my nice, warm, comfy BMW breezing past her as she fought against the wind and snow to walk home. With groceries, no less!

I'm going to hell, and you guys are probably all going to hell with me just for reading my shite day in and day out.

Don't expect me to give you a ride there, either...

Next time I see her, I'm giving her a ride, dammit. (To the store, or home, or wherever...NOT hell. Jeez.)

Tuesday, January 23, 2007


I really can't understand why this happens. This second colposcopy wasn't anything scary. Nothing unusual wasn't particularly painful, by any means...the doctor is a guy I really like and appreciate for the "bedside manner" he possesses.

I felt fine while I was there. Standard procedure. Questions all asked and answered. Discussion of doctor's unfortunate volleyball injury was had. And then I got to get dressed and went back to work.

So why did I feel like crying when I started to head out of the parking lot towards the freeway? Why did I feel so down and ucky and sad all of a sudden? We don't know anything yet. And even if things do come back reflecting an unhappy outcome, it will still be a relatively simple process to adjust things and make me healthy again.

Is it because of the digging around that's been done, and the sense that there is an unknown involved, even if it is a low-level unknown that can be somewhat easy to irradicate? I don't get it.

I feel better after some silly discussions with the fiance over a dinner of shabu shabu at a restaurant I haven't been to since about 1997, but which hasn't changed much at all in the 10 years that have passed, thank goodness. I'll feel even better after a good night's sleep, I'd think.

I just don't get it.

Maybe the Federation of the Blind will want a spare cervix when they come to pick up their new couch on Tuesday next week. I don't really want it any more...just causes me trouble I don't need.

Lovely day

I get to go have my second colposcopy today. I'm so excited!!! I love having someone peer into my vajayjay, looking to see if they can find what's causing all my lab tests to come back with negative info on them. It's like I have my very own cave on my body for people to go spelunking in. Spelunking for negative cells on the cervix = fun, my friends. Aw yeah.

I finally was able to find someone willing to come and pick up the couch from our house, thank GOD. Luckily for us, they will be in our area next Tuesday, which happens to be the very same day we're going to be getting the couch. The only thing that is kind of a pain about it is that (a) I have to get up beyond early to go to the gym on Tuesday to meet with my trainer, (b) it's the fiance's day off, so I feel super bad asking him to do something like get up to help me put the couch out in front of the garage on the driveway before I leave, and (c) I don't want to put it out the night before, as it might ruin it, so I'm gonna have to be mean and ask the fiance to get up super early. As strong as I'm getting due to the evil deeds of the trainer, I am not able to move a 3-piece sectional couch out into the garage by myself. And as strong as the fiance is, he's not as strong as me, we don't think. (But we aren't sure...he does work in a kitchen 5 days a week, constantly lifting and moving and basically getting a 12 hour workout every day, but he doesn't lift weights like I do, so it's a running question in our home as to whether I might be stronger than him at this point. Boring, eh? Yeah...that's us!) I'm thinking we're going to have to move it into the garage the night before, so I not only have time to clean the floor beneath it before we get a new big piece of furniture placed over the dirtyness of it all, but also so that we can put our two powerful bodies together to get the job done as safely as possible. This means that my beautiful car will have to be left out in the cold over night, but I think it'll survive ok.

Anyway, it was the Federation of the Blind that won, God bless 'em. I'm very happy to have that all taken care of and set up. And I can't wait for the new furniture to arrive!!

Ok, I have to go do other things now. I'm pretty sure that according to the rules here at my brand new company, I can blog while I'm at long as it doesn't take away from my ability to get my job done, and as long as I don't blog about the company or share any of it's secrets out here. (They tell me all their secrets, too! Me. An admin. Who had to convince the procurement people that it was necessary to order a laptop instead of a desktop to perform my job efficiently. Yep. The CEO runs all the big ideas past me first. But don't ask me, because I can't tell you, ok? Sheesh...) I was finally able to access the part of our intranet that went over the rules on this topic yesterday, and while it might be me sort of interpreting things to my own advantage, I still say that typing a post for 10 minutes never hurt anyone, or my work, or what have you. So there.

Happy Tuesday, all. I'm already fucking exhausted, so I'm countin' down the days until Saturday!! Count with me now! 4!!

There...wasn't that fun?

Monday, January 22, 2007

Isn't that their job?

On my way home from work, I often get stopped at a signal that places me next to a little side street while I wait for our turn to go. I recently noticed that the street sign for this particular street is wrong. It's labelled as being "103st Street." And it immediately made me wonder, isn't that one of their only jobs, the guys/gals that create the street signs? I mean, besides painting the things, or printing them, or whatever the hell they do to create them, aren't they required to know their "st" from their "nd" from their "rd" from their "th"? Maybe the person that created this particular sign hadn't had a drink of water all day long, and had a freudian slip, as it were? (Hardy har.)

Anyway, it bothers me. I want to steal the sign, sort of, so the city will be required to replace it, and I can see if it's just something with that street in particular (maybe it really is supposed to be named "one hundred and thirst street"), or if they fix it so all will be well on my ride home again. But, as I am not a vandal, I will probably never steal it, and so it will always be there to taunt me with its grammatical incorrectness.

On that same note, I read a question on The Vine (at Tomato Nation) last week that disheartened me when it comes to the general American public and their gradual descent into adopting a vernacular that just isn't acceptable, or correct, or that even makes any sense at all. This chick had written in (here's The Vine link for that day's Q & A) about a spat she was having with her boyfriend over the word "too." Apparently, her (obviously very intelligent) beau had taken to shortening the word to just "to," because, as he said, the second "o" had largely been dropped in modern vernacular. She did mention that she thought he had made this excuse up in order to cover for his poor spelling, but still! That this was even an argument between two people! AUGH! Disgusting. And I don't even care for grammar all that much, really...but it still bothers me when it's so blatantly misused.

This is what's on my mind this early Monday morning. And so now I will go and see what else is going on in the world, so I can be bothered by bigger things that make more sense. Like Hillary Clinton planning on running for president. And that Obama guy. And all the little retards* that think it's a good idea to spend millions on a campaign that they can't possibly win (eh-em, Brownback? Really? Really? Dumbass...), because, hell-OO! If it comes down to a race between a Republican white dude and a Democratic white chick or black guy, who do they really think will win, hm? Can all of us Republicans already start our "4 More Years!**" chant, or what? (But not Brownback...nuh-uh...) I want to vote for the right person this year (who, at this point - which is a very uneducated and premature point, I might add - would probably be Barack...but I need to read some more shit in order to figure that out for sure), but I doubt that the old, crusty, tend-to-be-more-male-than-female voters will seriously consider voting in a woman as president. And they sure as hell won't vote in a black man. Half of the eligible voters out there are just like my sweet fiance...who likes to sit and bitch and moan about the decisions that G.W. makes about troops, or what have you, only to hear me end my argument on the subject with the inevitable reminder about his failure to vote up to this point in time. Ever. In any election. So his argument doesn't really work for me, really. (I'm willing to bet he's sorry he ever mentioned that little factoid to me. And I actually promised, after our last fight, to try not to bring it up any more. It's starting to irritate him, and I try to avoid doing that (shut up! I really do!) as much as I can.) Anyway, I think Edwards is going to wind up being the Democratic nominee, and I can't vote for that guy.

Wait a minute...why am I discussing politics? Has the world become this boring to me at this point in time? Shit.

*This is not to say that I think Hillary or Barack are retards in any sense of the word. I mean it towards people like Brownback, who knows he won't win, and almost seems to look at this race as a way to just generally waste time, or perhaps toward someone like Gulliani, or Gingrich who has stated, for the record even, that he will run "as a last resort" if no other Republican emerges as a front runner in the race. Nice.

**And I know that we have to vote in a new president, so don't think that I believe people will be saying "4 More Years!" for Bush, or whatever. I just mean it in the sense that we will be chanting "4 More Years!" for a Republican president in general, is the thing.

Friday, January 19, 2007

Mmmm...that's so smelly!

(Sorry Twin! I couldn't resist...)

There are days when I start feeling a bit too prim and proper for my own good. Days like this one when I'm in one of the better moods I've had in a month, happy to have the downtime at my new job, happy to have the new job, and happy that I still don't have the proper access to all systems yet, and so I don't actually know what the policy is about personal blogs. I'd ask someone, but I don't want, in any way, to call attention to the fact that I actually have a blog. In the past, that's only caused trouble. And anonymity is anonymity. (Well, as anonymous as one can be with a fake name but real pictures of herself posted...) I'll just wait until I have access to those policies before I quit the blogging at work (if that's even what it requires me to do...which it likely does, but I don't know that for sure now, do I?), and in the meantime, I can fall back on my ignorance of the actual rule if I'm caught and given issue about it.

So on these days when I feel like I'm being good because I've managed to keep my swearing to a minimum, and I've started off the day with a tougher-than-usual 40 minutes of cardio at the gym, and I've straightened my hair and have it pulled back off my face on the left with one of my trusty butterfly clipies (or whatever they're's flat, it's silver, and you push it in the middle to open it up, and then snap it shut on the end when you get the hair grabbed into's very 70's/Brady hair, IMO, and I love it...), and I'm wearing a black sweater over a white, long-sleeved shirt with pants that fit, and all that, it takes a lot to pull me back down out of that and remind me that I'm not as perfect as I may think myself to be.

But if you could smell the shit I just took? Well, you'd be brought down out of any cloud 8 you were on, too. DAMN!

Thursday, January 18, 2007

"Boss" from hell: Part the Third

Ok, I'm gonna continue my boss story now...thanks for all the charity suggestions (and other ones as well!) on the couch issue, guys! Also, I think this is going to be the last installment of the story, since it really can't be broken up very well without really messing with things. It's a long bit, just to warn y'all...

So a couple of weeks pass. I made extraordinary efforts to be as courteous and helpful as I could be to all the brokers, since it had been mentioned in my evaluations (from both the admin and Dipshit) that it was something I needed to work on. I thought I was doing a great job, actually. There was one broker that I felt didn’t like me much early on in my employment with the company, and he and I were getting along much better by then. He asked me to complete an utterly ridiculous task late in the day one Thursday afternoon. Basically, he wanted to send some information about our company to an interested client in Des Moines. He asked me if I could help? Sure! I told him that I had been planning on pulling some info together quite soon, actually, but I didn’t have anything yet, so what did he have in mind? He started showing me some printouts that he’d done from our website. He wanted to pretty much send the same info we had out there, but he couldn’t figure out how to print it out without the web info printing along with it at the bottom of the page. I told him we couldn’t do that. So he asked if I could “cut and paste” the info from the website into a presentation that was clean. I thought that was possible, at first, but then he started showing me all the info he wanted me to print out. It was the ENTIRE CONTENT OF THE WEBSITE! Literally all the info on the brokers, their pictures we had with their profiles, the info on the properties and clients we had previously worked with and what clients we currently represented, etc, etc, etc…It was crazy. BUT. It was doable. I wanted to do it, he needed it, and I told him I would get it done. Unfortunately, I had to do it in PowerPoint, and as most admins might know (maybe some don’t…) PowerPoint doesn’t take well to cutting and pasting info from some other software medium into a slide it’s creating. At least, the PowerPoint I was working with on my computer wasn’t ever happy with it. It made the fonts huge and different and fucked with the indents and the margins on everything I brought in. SO. I started copying the info by typing it all in by hand. It sucked.

About an hour after this broker had dropped this project on my lap, he stopped by my desk to see how it was going. He saw me typing and asked what I was doing? I told him I had to type it all out, and he started balking about how he thought I could cut and paste it and how long would it take the way I was doing it, blahblahBLAH??? I showed him what happened when I cut and paste the info. “Oh no,” he said. I said, “Yeah. It sucks! But don’t worry! I’ll get it done! Look how great it looks already!” I printed some out for him, and he was very pleased with how it was looking, so that was nice. I told him, “I should have it done by tomorrow afternoon, or Monday mid-morning at the latest.” The look on his face told me that he wasn’t happy with that deadline. “I really wanted to get it sent to him tonight, so it would arrive there tomorrow morning, though…” He looked hopeful. I just shook my head. “That’s not possible,” I told him. He explained that he had already promised that he would have the information to the client the next day. I told him that he might want to point him in the direction of our website, then. (Kinda what the rest of us might’ve done, right? I mean, DUH!) He said that he thought all I had to do was cut and paste some info, and he didn’t realize it would take so long…I apologized to him for the issue, but told him I would do my best to get it done quickly. He went away after that.

The next day, I went ahead and started cutting and pasting, and then reformatting the fonts and margins, as it went much faster overall than me typing everything. It was still a pain in my ASS, but it did the job, and I had the full document ready to go out by Friday afternoon. The entire time, I was saccharinely sweet to this man, saving my complaints and my venting for the closed-door sessions with my admin-boss.

About a week later, this same man came to me looking for help on another issue. He wanted to send out a mass e-mail about a property to all the brokers in town. I told him how to do it as he looked over my shoulder, and he said he understood, and went back to his desk to give it a go. He called me over to his desk a couple minutes later, and I went and showed him step by step what to do. (Never mind the fact that about 2 months into my employment at the company, I had taken the time to write out very specific directions on how to do exactly what he was trying to do, and I was just repeating everything that was in that memo out loud to him…for about the 4th time, no less!) It seemed we had things down, I went back to my desk and got back to work, and thought all was well. Except I noticed that I never received the e-mail from him that day. I figured that maybe he decided not to send it out that night…maybe he needed more info on the property before he could send it out, so there was a delay. I didn’t think much of it.

The next day, he came back to me looking for help again. The mass e-mail didn’t work, and he was getting an error message. He came to my desk while I was on the phone, though, and while I was able to comprehend what he was telling me, he needed to wait until I was off the phone (I was talking to a potential customer about a property and trying to find the appropriate broker to help them) for me to get over to his desk to help him. Apparently, he was on FIRE about sending this e-mail, and he couldn’t wait the couple of minutes I needed in order to get off the phone. He went and got another person to help him, and then that person came to my desk to let me know what was up just as I was getting off the phone. “I was just coming to help with that,” I told him, and I headed over to the desk to see what was up. Now, the machine was giving an error that I’d never seen before, so my suggestion was to try the whole process one more time, and then if that didn’t work, then he needed to call the help desk. So we walked through it one more time. At one point I told him how he could close something because he didn’t need it anymore, and he snapped, “Well, I’m going to leave it open, because I did it that way yesterday and it didn’t work, ok? So I don’t want to have to go through all of this again!” I didn’t say anything in response. I just watched him cut and paste an address block, and then I said, “Ok, so you do that with the other 2 addresses, and then you should be good to go. If it doesn’t work again, then I don’t know what’s wrong, and you’ll have to call the help desk…” And I backed out of his fucking cube and walked away.

He had NO RIGHT or REASON to snap at me like he did. Especially over a fucking e-mail about a property that hadn’t sold in over 12 months, and probably WOULDN’T sell for another 12 months, and just because his last deal on the place fucking fell through wasn’t any allowance for him to be a COMPLETE DICK to me over the stupid mass e-mail issues he was having. It wasn’t my fault his computer was a pain in his ass! They worked FINE from my computer!

But apparently, he complained about me to Dipshit. Because the next day, Dipshit asked if he could talk to me. We went into his office, and he told me “this isn’t working out.” He told me about how he had just spoken to me about my attitude less than 2 weeks before, and here he was hearing about problems already, and he thought it would be better if we just moved on. He cited a problem that another broker had mentioned…one of my favorite brokers who was kind of a pain, but was also on the older side, and I didn’t mind helping him at all. Plus, he was very gracious whenever he needed help, thanked me all the time, and when it came to getting his work done for him, I was all over it. Because it was easy! Usually a letter needed to be typed, or he needed something copied. Dipshit told me that this broker had told him that he came to me looking for help, and I had told him I didn’t have time to help him. Before I had time to process that info, he went ahead and told me that the other broker had come to me for help, and I had gotten frustrated with him, so he had to go to someone else for help – another broker, no less – instead of getting help from me. Ok, so part of that was true. The part about him going to another broker for help was true. But I can honestly say that I did not show signs of frustration with him when he came to me for help, I helped him when he asked me, and HE got frustrated when his system wasn’t working properly. And I can’t see how I should have been blamed for either his frustration OR his computer issues.

I started to cry. Mostly because of the fact that the favorite broker had made a completely false statement about me denying to help him, but also because of the situation. I said, “Frustrated broker doesn’t like me! He never did! And I have been sooo nice to him over the past couple of weeks, Dipshit, honestly!” And then I continued, “And Favorite broker? He really said that? I didn’t do anything to him! I didn’t do anything…I don’t understand…” I saw he had a box of Kleenex in his office, so I stood up to get one, and then sat back down. Dipshit explained that he wanted to give me at least 2 weeks to look for another job. But he would need to reevaluate that based on my performance over the next week. I kept crying, but thanked him, and then he left the room while I tried to compose myself.

It was awful.

What’s even worse is that the favorite broker that he said made a complaint about me was out of the office the rest of that day and the next day. I finally saw him on Monday morning the following week. He and I were alone in the copy room, and as he is a favorite broker to me, I felt comfortable approaching him on the situation. “Favorite broker? Did you tell Dipshit that I denied to help you recently?” He looked confused. “No. Why?” I explained what had happened the Thursday before, and told him it was one of the reasons Dipshit had cited in his decision to fire me. Favorite broker was, to say the least, shocked. “I NEVER said that to him! Oh, I need to talk to him about this, because I never said anything like that to him. I can’t believe that guy!” I said, “No, no! I don’t want to make this worse than it is…please don’t tell him I said anything to you. It’s not going to change the situation, really. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t unhappy with me for any reason, because I always try to do everything you ask me to do as soon as I can, and it didn’t make any sense to me that you had complained about me to him.” He started to walk away (he’s sort of a curmudgeonly old guy…) and said, “Well, he just made that up, is the thing. I never said that to him. We’re fine. You do a good job for me, Faith.” I followed him back down the hall toward our desks (his office was a across the hall from my desk area) and said, “That’s all I wanted to be sure of, Favorite broker. Thanks.”

So, yeah. Dipshit made that up. When I told the other admin about it, she couldn’t believe it. (How she has any loyalty to this man is beyond me, seriously…) But she told me that she’d heard that it had to do with a document that had needed to get sent out, and apparently some executive from the other side of the company had said I told Favorite broker that I didn’t have time to help him on it, and I completely remembered what it was that she was referring to. I had sent the document out, but Favorite broker hadn’t allowed enough time to pass between me sending it and the date he was looking for a reply. And the executive from the other side of the company? Yeah, she wasn’t anywhere NEAR me when he and I discussed it, and I hadn’t the first clue that she was even involved. So I didn’t know what the fuck was up with that.

It was all very screwy, and basically, I felt that I was being wrongfully terminated. I never did turn in a resignation as Dipshit had suggested I should do because “then [he] could give me a reference,” because I didn’t feel it was appropriate for me to turn in a resignation for something I thought was total bullshit. Plus, if I planned on claiming unemployment at all (which I never wound up having to do…) I couldn’t quit. I also was unsure about whether I could bring a lawsuit against him for what he’d done, but after initial inquiries into that, I found it’s almost impossible to sue an LLC for wrongful termination. I don’t know why. You can only sue large corporations for it, if you plan on winning, apparently. I couldn’t waste a bunch of time on legal shit and money on lawyers for no reason other than to piss Dipshit off, so I decided to just move on.

And I have.

And I still think he needs therapy.

The end.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Couch for sale

Unbelievable. Ok, we bought a new couch, and would like to donate our old couch to charity.

Unfortunately, I cannot find a single charity in this town that actually comes around and picks up couches that are being donated. St. Vincent de Paul doesn't have the proper staff right now. Goodwill doesn't pick up at all. Salvation Army doesn't have the gas to go around and pick up items.

They all suggested Disabled American Vets, or American/Missouri Council for the Blind, or Big Brothers Big Sisters. But I haven't been able to find any info on local chapters of the DAV or the ACB regarding donating furniture, and Big Brothers Big Sisters doesn't take donations of furniture. "Only items that one person can lift by themselves." Jeezus.

I can't find anyone that will actually pick our couch up! Our new couch will arrive on the 30th.

I think we're fucked. Anyone have any ideas? I'll probably be putting up an ad on Craig's List later tonight, but let me know if you're in the KC area and if you're aware of any charitable organizations that will actually swing by and pick this mother up. It's too big to fit into the back of the fiance's truck, but it's also too dirty back there for me to want to put it in in order to transport it someplace. (Plus, my favorite feature of his new vehicle is that the tailgate doesn't lower. We found that out after we bought a new chest of drawers for his closet a couple of weeks ago...) So me.

Now I know why I see people leaving furniture out on the curbs in front of their houses so much throughout my neighborhood and in Prairie Village. Fucking ridiculous...

"Boss" from hell: Part the Second

Another issue I was dealing with had to do with working with his homeowner’s insurance regarding two different properties he was either building or rehabbing. He gave me a form one day and told me to fill it out. I didn’t have the slightest clue what to put on it, but the other admin in the office had some things she could provide me, so I was ok to a certain extent. I filled out as much as I could, and sent the form in. Of course, the insurance agent had questions. She started calling me because she couldn’t get a hold of him. I called him and then called her or e-mailed her back. She sent more forms to be filled out and signed, I got them taken care of, and then MORE questions would arise. Of course, I couldn’t answer them. And this went on and on and on for about a month and a half. The insurance chick and I got to know each other. She felt my pain, and I felt hers. She was trying to earn a commission, though, and I was just trying to get the monkey off my back. As far as I was concerned, that stuff was NOT PART OF MY JOB, and I was taking time away from doing what I actually needed to be doing for the brokers in the office trying to get all his bullshit taken care of for him.

To be honest, it took a little wind out of my sails. When I wasn’t too busy with actual work for the brokers, I would procrastinate on the other random tasks I needed to do in order to search for shit on the ‘net, or read blogs, or send e-mails to folks. After the proposal from my honey, I was interested in searching for dresses and finding locations for the reception. I lost all my verve for the job, it seemed.

So I talked to the other admin about it. As far as I was concerned, she was my boss, and I needed her advice as to how I could overcome this hump I’d run into with regards to the job. I wasn’t doing what I wanted to do. What else could I do for the company? And how could I get away from helping Dipshit with his personal stuff. (That wound up not being much of a problem, though. After the homeowner’s insurance fiasco, he stopped bringing me things to do for him. Thank God. This was also my first clue – which went unnoticed – as to his distaste for me and my assistance to “his” company as an admin…)

I didn’t want to leave her in the lurch, but honestly, I was planning on leaving the company after the first of the year. I was going to give plenty of notice, but I wasn’t happy, and I needed to find a new job to move on to. I needed the end of year bonus, was the thing, though, so I wasn’t willing to leave earlier than that. My 3rd quarter bonus had been less than the previous one – SIGNIFICANTLY less – and I was hoping that the 4th quarter one would make up for it. (The lower bonus in the 3rd quarter should have been my second clue to the Dipshit’s distaste for my administrative abilities in his regard…I missed that clue, too. He had changed the rules to the bonus, though. Suddenly, he was making the decisions about how much we got and who got a piece of the pie instead of another boss that usually made those decisions, and I was no longer privy to the percentage of commission I was receiving. When I asked for him to please consider letting me know what it was from month to month, and to also let me know if the fluctuations were based on performance or not, his answer to me was, “That sounds fair. I’ll get back to you on your question.” And then he never, ever got back to me about it…)

So. October begins, and I’m given an evaluation. It was weird, though, because I needed to fill one out for myself, and then Dipshit filled one out, and the other admin filled one out. They compared theirs together before I met with the other admin one day to discuss their conclusions. She liked my work, felt I was doing a good job, and appreciated my desire to do more. He, however, felt I was doing a substandard job (shocking), didn’t like the feedback he was getting from the brokers about working with me, and asked me to stop planning my wedding while I was in the office. (Which is complete bullshit. While I did scan The Knot for dresses in my downtime, I never, EVER took to “planning” my wedding while I should have been doing other work. There were moments when I had no work on my desk and I felt it was appropriate for me to call some churches to set up meetings, but everything else was completed via e-mail…which literally takes me about 30 seconds to take care of, so whatever the fuck he was talking about, I think back on now and realize he was making it up. I’ll tell you more about his creative complaints about me in a later part of the story…)

I took the evaluations to heart, and trusted the one from my fellow admin more than the one from Dipshit as she was the one working next to me day in and day out, seeing what I was really doing all the time. If she was unhappy with my performance, then she failed to mention it to me.

And that's that for today. I might have to start posting these in the evenings, just an FYI...there are "rules" at my new company about personal blogs, and while I can't read them yet (I don't have the proper access to all of the company info yet), I'm sure one of the rules is "Don't blog while at work." And I'm inclined to follow said rules for at least the first few months that I'm here, I'm afraid. Something about this place makes me feel like behaving all prim and proper all the time. I don't know if it's a Bermuda Triangle type thing, or what, but I hope it goes away soon! Happy Wednesday all...TOP CHEF NIGHT BABY!! WOO!!

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

"Boss" from hell: Part the First

Now is the time I have decided to share with everyone the account of my dismissal from the company I previously worked for. This is long and sort of (meaning "very") detailed, but still, you all obviously know that I've changed names to protect the innocent (meaning "me"), never will mention the place where I used to work (which is the case for all my places of employment, so just don't ask, ok?), and want to tell this story so as to explain how it all went down. I'm not "dwelling" on anything, and I'm not "stuck in the past" or what have you. I told you all a long time ago that I'd tell you what happened when I could, and now I can, so that's that. Also, let me assure you all that I hold recovering alcoholics in high regard, in most cases. I've known a few, and I have to say that making such a huge life change can be a difficult and treacherous road to hoe, so more power to 'em. However, when I talk about the degenerate piece of shit that was my boss and refer to his so-called "recovery" from his bout with alcoholism, I mock it because he deserves it. This story wound up being longer than I expected (and I'm not even done writing it yet), so you can expect it to take up the rest of the week for me to post each bit. Anytime I have additional stuff to post on the days when I'm posting bits of story, like today, I'll put it in blue text, so as to make the distinction clear between current stuff and the story. Alrighty then, here we go...

Ok, so…the dipshit of a boss that I had at my last job – yeah. Let’s talk about him, shall we?

First of all, the guy has/had a drinking problem. He went to rehab for it about mid-way through my employment at “his” company (and let me say, those 2 months he was gone? The sweetest ones I had while I was working there…), but he immediately took to drinking more O’Douls than anything else he consumed when he returned, so I’m not sure how well the rehab thing went overall. (For a “non-alcoholic” beer, it still has a .5% alcohol content in it. Kind of like drinking “decaf” coffee, IMO.) Also, he stopped taking his ADD meds while he was in rehab, as was required of course, but he never returned to them. (I think it’s part of the rules of AA, or something…but if they knew this guy, they’d suggest he get back on them, seriously…) This seemed like a bad idea to me, to be quite honest.

One of the first things he told me and the other admin (who is on friendlier terms with him than I ever could be…meaning he liked her – not that they were sleeping together, mind you) when he got back from rehab was how they explained to him that his emotional growth had been stunted to the age when he started drinking. Meaning that apparently, when he started drinking at age 12, he stopped growing emotionally, and was therefore only able to handle the issues at a 12-year-old’s emotional level. Now, I don’t know if once he went through treatment, he was supposed to start developing beyond that level emotionally, or what. But in the few months after he returned from rehab, I didn’t see it happening. I personally think he regressed back a few years, based on my experiences with him.

So here’s what happened (lots of detail to follow here, folks. Just to warn you all…): Dipshit wanted me to do some personal stuff for him. This was ON TOP OF the regular job that I was already doing, which I was hired to do, so, yeah. Not good. As far as I was concerned, Dipshit’s stuff was to be completed when and if I had the time. If he needed someone to call his alcohol treatment center to check on why he owed them a balance of 8 grand after the insurance company paid it’s portion of the bill, he could do it himfuckingself, right? Right. So, one day, he plopped a bill on my desk and asked me to check into what was going on. Fine. I had a minute, and I called the treatment facility. Of course, they couldn’t release any information to me. Ok, I said. I called the insurance company. They couldn’t release any info to me, either. No big shock.

So I told him what happened. He told me to “pretend to be [his] wife,” which he thinks is the magic key to getting people to discuss personal information about him. (He’s divorced, big shock of all shocks. The scary thing is he has kids and he spends time with them on a regular basis. *shudders*) So I called the treatment facility back and did what I always did when it came to him asking me to do his shit for him. I explained that we needed to find a way around this privacy thing because my boss was one of those people that doesn’t know how to do anything for himself, and as far as he was concerned, I was him in this situation. Thank goodness the billing lady seemed to understand what I was talking about. She obviously deals with this sort of thing a lot. (I think it’s the same facility that movie stars and stuff go to when they need rehab, sometimes. It was in Minnesota, is all I remember…) So she told me she had a form for us to fill out and send back. GREAT! She sent it to me, and then the Dipshit wasn’t in the office for another 2 weeks. When he did come back, he was there when I wasn’t, and vice versa. He normally was in the office for about 5 hours a week anyway, so there’s that I had to deal with. I never knew when he was going to grace us with his assholeish presence again, and it was frustrating as hell to have to wait on him to get his fucking shit taken care of. He needed to sign the form, and by the time he got back from whatever he was doing when I needed it signed initially, I was caught up in other duties (i.e. the ones I was HIRED to do…), and pretty much forgot about it, anyway.

So one day he stops by to see where “we’re” at on it. (Um, yeah, just me. ONLY me handling this crap, asshole. GOD!) I told him that I hadn’t gotten to it yet, as I had been busy with my work. (And yes, I placed emphasis on that word, trying to get a point across…) He started to walk away, and then returned after a second to say, “By the way, this is your work.” I’m kinda feeling a bit belligerent at that point – probably due to the stress he was adding to my already pretty stressful workload I probably had that day – and, staring him straight in the eye, I replied, “Yeah, but I don’t like it.” He walked away without saying anything else. I went into his office a couple of minutes later to get the form signed so I could get the original sent back to the rehab facility so I could move on with things, and that was that.

I found out that the 8 grand he owed was because his insurance had run out. That’s right…he had made so many claims last year that his insurance was through with covering any additional amount beyond something like $16,000 that they paid towards the rehab already. (The total amount of the rehab was $24,000…nice, eh? That’s for 2 months, I think. Quite a business they have going there. Especially considering that they only half-fix people while they’re there. “Hey, we’ll cure you of this drug/alcohol/eating disorder thing you got going, but you might want to get some additional therapy when you get back on the outside, is the thing. No pressure…just think about it, ok? More therapy might be good. Maybe.” This is what I imagine they say to their clients, as I can’t be too sure. Dipshit didn’t get more therapy. He attended some AA meetings, but that was it. After a few weeks, I’m not sure he even attended them regularly anymore. If they advised him strenuously to get more therapy, he certainly didn’t take that and run with it…) But really…he’d fallen off a horse at one point, and had some issues with doctors relating to that, and Lord only knows what else he did to himself last year. After all, he was drunk for half of it. All I know is that just about every week, he was bringing me some new claim statement that had been sent to him by the insurance company. Sometimes it was for his kids, and sometimes, it was for him.

After I told him what I did, though, he didn’t bring them to me any more. I took him the bill that was requesting the $8,000 one day, explained why they needed it, he said, “Oh. Ok.” And that was that.

Part the Second will be displayed for all to see as of tomorrow morning, I hope. Now that we're back to work, I actually have a log-on ID and all that good stuff starting this morning, so we'll see if work takes precedence in the mornings anytime soon. No matter what, I'll try to post a little bit each day so the story won't lag too much. I hope...

Thursday, January 11, 2007


How bad is it that there are strawberry pop tarts for sale in the vending machine right around the corner from my desk? They're only $.85, people. In order for them to protect those pop tarts from the likes of me, they really should charge at least $1.50/package, dammit. (I haven't fallen to their siren call yet...but I can't say it's not likely to happen in the future.)

In other nutrition news, I'm back to pooping normally again! YAY! (Oh, and theD, just an FYI, no secret pooping toilet is needed when it comes to me releasing the kids. If I gotta do it, I'm just gonna, regardless of whether I'm in a secret toilet or a not so secret one or whatever. Plus, the hike I have to make to the toilet on my own floor is insane...I can't imagine finding one on another floor to go use in case of pooping emergencies! GAH! Do not delay the poopage! That's only gotten me into more trouble in the past...)

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

What's your conference code, please?

Good LORD! What with all the conference calls, meetings, and discussions about work that happen around this place, how do they find the time to actually, um, WORK?? Amazing. They must do it all when the rest of us are sleeping, the sneaky buggars...

Loving it, though. My boss is the nice guy, according to everyone here, so that's good news. And I work for him. Only him. That's it.


Still waiting for work to do, though. I'm sure it'll happen soon. Unfortunately, due to some software upgrading issues, I can't become a "real life" employee until next week, but that's ok. No one seems to mind what I'm doing to fill my time up. (i.e. reading things on the internet, wandering around and checking things out, chatting with the other admins...)

I've graduated to my official grown up admin job. Yay!

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

What is the question?

What to do with a high maintenance – no wait…a medium maintenance friend (she’s far away, so she’s not high maintenance so much, when I think about it…) that you can’t dump? I’m talking guilt trips, and then the “Are you mad at me?” e-mails, and the apologies for the guilt trips which then amazingly include the same guilt trip attempt, but just in different clothing this time around…it’s tiresome. (Especially since guilt trips don’t even remotely work on me anymore. Thanks to Mom, I was cured a loooong time ago of that disease!) And the “Are you mad at me?” e-mails are silly, because, hell no, I’m not mad at her…I read the e-mail, and then likely went shopping online and forgot about the e-mail, and then never looked at it again. When I’m online at home these days, I tend to spend very little time in e-mail…I’d rather shop. So I do. And I forget about the e-mails. Until I get the whiny ones reminding me about them again, dammit.

And then there’s the whole issue with wanting to have phone conversations with me on a regular basis. She doesn’t understand that I’m not a phone person. Wait…that’s not a fair statement, actually. Maybe she does understand that I’m not a phone person, now that I’ve said something to her about it in particular. But apparently, I need to become one because she doesn’t have a sister to talk to like I do? WTF? Nuh-uh.

Thing is, I LOVE this person, and I want to have a good relationship with her, but I’m not willing to bend over backwards into an uncomfortable state of being to be some person I’m not in order to make her feel better, you know? I don’t think I should have to. Just the same as I don’t feel she should have to become someone she’s not in order to please me somehow. I thought we’d met somewhere in the middle with the e-mailing and the chatting through another person when she’s on the phone with him (i.e. my fiancĂ©…getting the picture here?), but apparently she wants more, and wants me to feel bad for not being willing to do/give more. But there I go again with being unfair…maybe it’s not that she wants me to feel bad, so much. Because she’s not an asshat like that. Maybe it’s just the way she was raised, and how she deals with her other relationships in life, but she thinks she’s apologizing for an attempted guilt trip she gave me via the phone and what she winds up doing is the “I’m sorry I tried to guilt trip you into doing something you don’t like doing! But here’s why you should feel bad for me and do what I’m asking you to do regardless of your discomfort with it…” thing, which pretty much makes me want to shut down. (And go shop on the internet…)

So. I’m having a hard time with this. And I try to ignore it, but it’s apparently unignorable, so now what do I do? This is a person that I not only want to have a relationship with…on some level, I’m kind of required to. But I WANT to, is the thing. So how do we begin to understand each other? That is the million dollar question, my friends.

I’m too lazy for all this relationship-building bullshit, really I am. Dammit.

Monday, January 08, 2007

It was the best of times...

So I started the new job today with Big National Company. I love it. Very happy. Feelin' good.

I know, I's only been one day, but still, I think I've learned to guage these things pretty well at this point, especially considering the asshattery I had to put up with from the main boss at the last job. (More to come on that later this week, since I am now securely in a new position at a new company, and can feel free to kick up some dirt all over my memory of him...)

Although I don't have a computer or a log-on ID or a badge to even get in the door every day at this point, and won't until next Monday (maybe), I'm still finding plenty to do. The last admin I'm filling the shoes of left due to baby issues. Mainly that she had one and suddenly doesn't wanna work any more. Seems to happen a LOT around these here's how I got my last job, too. Sort of. But anyway, she left just after she packed a bunch of boxes for a move her department made over the summer, and so the boxes were sitting and waiting to be unpacked by me today.

One thing I learned about the woman I've succeeded: She loved pens. All kinds. Mostly the more expensive kinds. Since she was in charge of ordering the pens, apparently she took advantage of it. And she ordered them. Like, every day, it seems. Shit ton of pens to wade through, folks.

Also, she likes pads of paper. And little notebooks. Maybe she's a writer in her spare time, I dunno. But the woman has MORE than enough pens and paper in her drawers to supply the department for a decade, it seems.

She also left a note in the shelf area of the cube I've taken over. It says, "Please eat me." Of course, with my dirty-ass mind, I see that in it's most derogatory sense and it makes me giggle when I see it. Since I also appreciate the polite introduction of the derogatoriness (my own word, yes), I'm keeping the note where I found it. I know it was probably written a long time ago and placed next to a basket of homemade muffins brought in to share with the team, or a box of donuts that were picked up on the way to work one morning, but still. "Please eat me." C'mon! HA!

Now I must away to bed, as tomorrow marks the return of my ass heading to the gym at ungodly hours to be beaten to a pulp by the trainer I can afford to visit again. (Because I'm now rich. Thanks to the job and the holidays all rolled into one lovely package!) I'm seeing him Tuesdays and Thursdays, and somehow will manage to get in the gym on two other days of the week for my own personal asskicking sessions in cardio mode. I can't WAIT!

As much of a pain in the ass trying to get into better shape is, though, it really does make me feel better over all. I didn't put on as much weight this year while I was out of work as I did last year while I was out of work, mostly because I've been building muscle and keeping up with workouts at a minimum of twice a week this time around, but still...something feels off in me. I'm bloated and irregular and that makes me feel like crap much of the time. (No pun intended, even though it seems like it was...) Also, the girlie parts still aren't happy, and I need another colposcopy this month. Which, since I can afford it, and since it will hopefully rule out bad things, will probably lead to the biopsy I need to get done, so we can just move the fuck ON already. I'm not looking forward to it all, I must say. But I'll keep everyone in the loop on that. I'm giving up beer, and sticking to a maximum of 2 glasses of wine when I'm out with the friends. I'm eating more veggies, bought a 4 pound bag of oranges over the weekend at the supermarket, and am hoping that at the end of this month, poop is coming out of me in a more normal and acceptable manner. I'll be looking closer at labels and making sure that partially hydrogenated (I know I spelled that's late, and I don't care) oils aren't in anything I eat. Did you know that saltines - fucking saltine crackers!! - have partially hydrogenated oils in them? WTF?

I guess it's a new year after all, eh?

Thursday, January 04, 2007


Anyone else feeling back to normal yet? I'm not feeling back to normal yet.

Maybe tomorrow...