Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Got your seatbelts on?? I've got lots of updates and a whole Cardio Funk class of hyped up to burn off... I'm told I have an hour of rapid metabolism and for some reason telling you all about my last few days is better than Tivo.
TV Junkie speaking here. I have been trying to kick the TV habit for years and here I am in front of a computer screen talking about how I am so good for not watching TV.
Keep Up. Bent, take notes. MOT, watch me grow up. Curmudgeon, be proud. Laurie and Mona and April and LBB... hope you laugh your asses off, I'm trying to be as cool as you =)
First, an update.
No, I didn't biff it like a drunk at a sobriety check at the class Thursday night. I felt good when I got to the gym, danced like the little (yet surprisingly rounded) latina told me to for an hour, THEN oogled my new favorite gym rat while on the bouncy ball... I just stared at him in the mirror on the super skilled level and bounced to the beat of the music and thuroughly enjoyed my evening - in fact I totally forgot I was drunk!!! Hahahaha... must have been good if I can't remember the hour before by the end of the night!
Oh, and I got a call from a new friend on my drive home and didn't get to sleep until WAY past my bedtime. Don't get excited, she is just a cool chick who gets me and lives on the other side of the states... no hanky panky with my Blonde Bombshell after class.
I left my cube Friday totally satisfied with my karmic destiny.
And with my ability to leave all that crap for them to figure out since I have done quite a few desk clean ups in my day. I've been working front desks, reception areas, and file rooms my entire post college career... this is me telling karma to shove it. I don't mind being the bigger person, but I'm slimin out of my britches and kinda like it so I'm gonna keep on doin it.
Do you get this? Where you don't have any plans, its been a big week (remember, this is the SAME WEEK of Disneyland with the sacked out and psycho family, job interviews and job offers abounding, deciding where my career was going by responding to one call back over another, understanding that Corporate American politics is severely too high school to even acknowledge as a part of my 'real life', and getting a whole heap of resolution the same hour Aunt Flo packs up and bails), and there you are waking up on Saturday morning and there is just nothin. No desire to get up. No one tugging at you to take care of them. No ache to soothe, food to scarf, errands that can't wait, friends buggin, family callin, roomies mimicking a pack of elephants... really nothing to break the mood of "huh. sleep. cool. yeah, I'm gonna roll over and sleep."
No? OK, think Office Space when he was supposed to go to work that Saturday and he was in bed until sundown... minus the answering machine (which is awsome for the movie, but not for my Saturdays.)
THIS WAS ME!!!!! The last three months in a cube I refused to watch that movie because I had dreams of finding a guy to drop dead of a heart attack while helping me deal with Cubeville... and as I kiss that goodbye, I DO IT!!!
I rolled over at 8am. My roomie is doing a yard sale. The other ones aren't up yet. I roll over. Sometime around noon the DownStairs Girls take off for manis and pedis (I heard the WHOLE conversation, yes indeedie, Sqweeky and K might as well use bullhorns to talk to each other), I sneak down for the deli sandwich I thought would be free but my lame ass couldn't read the coupon and it was only a dollar off, and eat in bed. Yep, no radio or TV, just four sets of eyes staring me down for the morsels stuck to the paper. And my new magazine that got delivered that morning.
I passed out from laying and reading in the sun beating onto my pillows. The house was still quiet. I take advantage of myself. Three times. Then pass out.
This repeats itself three times. Yep, an afternoon of naps and repeatedly rubbing myself rigid.
Eventually the sun went down and I got in the shower, took off for the gym, and came back for a bit of my usual Saturday - Tivo.
It was awsome. I recommend it to absolutely anyone. Really clears your mind more than a walk or cleaning the space or talking it out. Just sleep and masturbate as much as possible for as long as possible and F E E L the clarity just settle around you. Like feathers falling after a pillow fight.
THEN. There. Was. This.
This one time, at band camp...
I actually had to hear my best friend screw his little (4'8") freshman girlfriend in this gym we were using as our accomodations on a trip to be in a parade and field show competition.
The movie wasn't joking folks. Band geeks aren't geeks at all... on buses and traveling and cooped up together as much as the sports teams and cheerleaders - can you remember a HS football game without us and our brass and bass??
Huh? Was that a Hell No Miss Sassy?? Thats. Right.
To say I had a flashback would be putting it mildly. I heard K come home. I heard someone go outside; then (as I cursed out loud) come back in. They decide her room is too far away and park it 10 feet from her bedroom door on the couch. It is still warm from my ass being there all night, but they don't notice because within FOUR MINUTES I hear a faint then distinct whining... I am trying to find the black dog in the shadows HOPING AND PRAYING TO ALL THE CRICKETS IN THE WORLD that I find a whimpering spasmatic pooch in the hallway.
My roomie decided to bring her date home and do whatever makes a girl go "uhhh uhhhh uhhhh uhhhh" to the tune of Julie Andrews on that damn hill (yes, I had that flashback to. UGH is Right, byotch).
Thought I would do a little bitch move huh? Nope. I figure shes done, they will go to the BED 10 FEET AWAY.
Would I tell you about it if that were it?? I hear him, in a very impressive 2 minutes, moaning "oh, my, gawd".
NOW I pull out the bitch you knew I loved to save just for you. I scream "You Have GOT To Be Kidding Me!" as I toss the blankets and the four magazines and three books I'm reading to the wall and in one fluid triple dance step over the two black dogs soundly sleeping through my tyrad, to the stairs. Taking a moment to plan my attack, I hear "mmmmm" out of him. Um, OK. There are SO Obviously people home and sleeping, and you can't even find a pillow to shove in your fat hole?
I decided to start easy. I flicked on the stairwell light, then right back off, turn on my heels saying "You Are Kidding Me" in a tone very akin to K's very favorite saying and intonation, then SLAM my bedroom door. I wait.
There is a bit of hussle, some racket in the kitchen and a spilled glass of water and whatever else they flung their leg into in the wild panic of being caught humping like monkeys in the living room.
Nothing was said the next day. Too much drama to even metion spluge on the couch.
But not my drama. Something that made T come home crying from her parents house. I guess their brother needs to distract from his life by pointing fingers and dragging up shit so old the Voodoo King wouldn't touch it with a caldron of bats feet and pigs blood.
Anyway, I am similarly lazy on Sunday. I don't get much done, and without the gym, phone calls, or house cleaning I am somehow whipped by the end of the day and conk out by 9:30pm.
"I'm training today, and this new girl here is cool as sh*t."
Direct quote from the girl whos desk I am taking over.
She is 20, plays the barbie game with glitter everywhere (eye liner, french tipped fingernails, lip gloss, and body lotion), refuses to not talk to her boyfriend and the guy she asked out to dinner, or let her cell phone got to VM with the office line ringing.
Yep, shes out and I will ROCK this desk!!
They are used to her not being able to get through this pile of work. It got backed up Friday. Fine. DO IT. Make ME do it!! I'm gonna do it myself in three days anyway - Pass. The. Puck. Phuck!!!
Whatever. She's cool, I dressed way better than her, and apparently there was such a buzz about my coming in that I didn't need to be introduced to the people who I transfer calls to all day... I was lead by the branch manager right to the regional manager to talk about the vice president's visit tomorrow.
Thats right. How do you like them apples?? I am the golden child to the New Boss and SAHWEET CHICKEN do I enjoy this warm and fuzzy in me!!
Last thing, I promise.
Not only is the hip hop dancing wearing off, but my ass is falling asleep and its insanely difficult to roll into the closet and onto lame legs when you haven't cleared a path in the laundry from unpacking or the week of gym and work and weekend PJs.
So whenever I go to the gym, I get an emotional release with my endorphine buzz. Its like the runners high, but with tears. It usually last the 10 minute drive home - some song will tip me over the edge or I am wanting to scream at someone for being a dill-hole or am stressed about something and the water here makes me cry like a spoiled 3 year old in the candy isle.
Alrighty. I have been used to this. Its been happening since I started going, and is pretty consistently controlable by the time my sobbin ass pulls into the driveway.
Yoga. Wednesdays. My newest nemesis. Meditate = let the dredger Run MuthaPhuka!!! I will be tearing up IN CLASS. This last week - heaving and tears flowing before I get to the car. I sit in the car for an HOUR in front of my house. Workin some Shit.Out.Yo.
And when I got the giggles at how lame I was for barking orders of respect to my stearing wheel, I let the laughs come like the tears did and went to bed with a SMILE ON.
Check it out. I come out of the middle of the Week Of Hell 2006 ver. 3A grinnin like I just won gold in the special olympics. (They smile bigger than these professonal athletes, you GOTTA give me that.)
Then it happened... Thursday was my spiked water and dance class and Non-Incidental Core class followed by a phone call before the ick settled in... Friday was cathartic in so many ways, Saturday was simply Orgasmic (yeah baby!), and Sunday was so calm I can't even remember it.
So its Monday, right? I had a first day at work, trained on a whole new system, met 30 new people, wore heels and hose and a matching suit, came home for a brief moment to collect my thoughts and tennies, and blazed a frothy trail (its raining here) to try a new class.
And when the hour of hip hoppin around a room of strangers to steps I've never seen was over... well, NO MORE TEARS.
Johnson and Johnson would be proud.
I was soaked in sweat and rain and full of energy and driving in a town that hasn't repainted lane markers since the Regan administration and when I rounded the corner and looked out over the mountain I felt it.
Coming around in a way that is all to familiar to be just a phase.
Like when you walk into your space and you feel its YOURS. Like being home. Its just right to be there. And here, with a bit of a tug at my cheeks, and a bit of twinkle in my eye, I know the ME is waking up.
And you know what?? (MOT, work with me on this one) I started the gym the same week He and I had our third first date... and haven't talked to Him in weeks now.
Friday, February 24, 2006
I'm still at my cube.
They are all gone.
They all looked like they would cry about my leaving. The didn't invite me to the Happy Hour they were rushing off for though.
I tried to do the filing. It was all ollllllld ass shit that was in closed files anyway. So I am leaving all the filing.
I'm taking my cool desk calendars.
I ordered them for me, I'm taking them, I don't care how big they are. I don't know if that looks weird at the new place, but I don't care. I need a calendar in my kitchen.
I've labeled what everything is, told the manager whats where, and how to read a label.
She asked for my info to reach me. I nearly gave her a bad digit, but I'm thinkin karma here.
I got a call from that first interview call that gave me the wrong call back number... remember her?? She started the avalanche of good career karma and called me an hour after I accepted the job from the New Boss to start Monday. Um, yeah. Three weeks later.
I added a little gittyup to my sparkling water with lunch and finished that 20 oz bottle an hour ago. Think I can keep my balance at the gym?? How much you wanna bet I roll off the excercise ball? How many nickels you got? I'll be broke soon, I'm not picky. Maybe a machine with handle bars is more my speed tonight.
Or maybe the 2.5 hours of dancing and crunching and jumping and weight lifting is enough to carry me until tomorrow?? Maybe a little more gittyup to celebrate?? How many nickels you got to bet with... I can do this back and forth ALL NIGHT.
Actually, I have to go turn in my security badge at the temp agency before the Cinderella time... gotta get in the car for that... maybe some straight water for the road... then - SUSHI!!
They need one more reference call in order for that to happen.
Little Miss Bitch told me yesterday that she was glad I found something and would certainly return the call by the end of the day.
I get a call from my New Boss asking where Little Miss Bitch is because she didn't get a call yet.
I send an email to LMB asking that, at her earliest convenience, I would sincerely appreciate her participation in keeping me gainfully employed.
She replies in two minutes that she and her boss just talked about it and its against corporate policy to give references, written or verbal, and her hands are tied.
I go to the email from my coworker who would rather hire me as her personal secretary than see me go that reads "let me know if you need a reference, I would be happy to speak on your behalf".
I recall the conversation with the Department Head's secretary who asked if I was extended YET (nullifying the "we don't do extensions BS I got last week) and her emphatic "do you need a reference? want my number? at home??"
I wonder what the fuck I did to these little snotty lightweights to piss them off to the point that they will tell me to my face they are sorry but they can't help me.
Is this the "don't speak if you have nothing nice to say" cliche smacking me in the career?
Is this their way of power tripping?
Is there a nice way of saying "get your stories straight if your going to lie to someones face"?
LIVID. Fuming. Grinding my teeth. Chomping three peices of gum. Twitching. And suddenly not caring if the three feet of filing gets done.
Its not the next temps fault these people suck as human beings though, right? And I wouldn't want to walk into a desk with three months of filing stacked up, so karma wise I'm screwing myself.
I can feel my blood coursing through the capillaries in my fingers and fear if I am on LMB's side of the building and I see her I will releive the pressure by gripping her neck until normal blood pressure returns.
I go get a paycheck today. I'll be stopping for lunch and my gym bag. I am sure I will have no problem pumping out some seriously engaging reps this evening... if I make it that far. Perhaps I'll just take a shower, get into my gym clothes, and work out some reps this afternoon.
If they are fine jacking me, I'm cool with ditching them.
Fuckwads. 105 lbs of fuckwad. Stick that in you pipe and smoke it; report back with what it tastes like - all I can smell is Menthol.
My fucking picture won't post. Its a pissed little puppy staring under its eyebrow up at the camera in a stance ready to pounce. Its what I would look like if I could hide the fangs and stop snarling.
Aunt Flo picked the wrong week to fuck up my hormones - I am really ready to get this bullshit aired out and not care where the shit flies.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Let me give you an example of why I am becoming an alcoholic.
Two nights ago I come down stairs at 10pm to let her know that I can hear absolutely every word out of her mouth while lying in bed trying to rest. I tell her I can understand her excitement that Joe Blow called but that I am not feeling well and don't think 10pm is too rediculous a time to ask that the volume of her informing K of the texting festivities not measure on the Richter Scale.
She is quick to comply, looking at the clock and reporting "I totally understand wanting to lay down when your not feeling well and I think 10pm is a toooootaaaallllly reasonable time to maybe even make a rule to be quiet at."
I slowly and quietly thank her for being aware of her surroundings for the rest of her conversation and go up to my room to read in peace and quiet.
The next morning after snoozing the alarm twice I get the dogs up and get them outside. This is usually the end of my morning, but more often than not I wake to the slamming of cupboard doors. I was in the mood to walk in and just start slamming them with her to see how much fun it was. If she does it every morning with two people sleeping upstairs, its gotta be fun, right?
So I'm standing in the kitchen talking to and petting the cat while the dogs do their thing and she says "good morning, are you feeling any better? we tried to be quiet and went outside to talk but I wasn't sure if your window was open so we still tried to be super quiet so you could rest... do you want to take some of my vitamins? I mean is it like an upset stomach or like a cold or..." I started talking over her just to get her to breathe. "Its my period, and after all the busy-ness of the weekend its just hitting me hard and I wanted to sleep through it is all." "oh."
The dogs come in as she is meandering over to a cupboard. I watch in anticipation of fury (while my hair is partially mohawked, my eyes glued shut with pixie dust, and my clothes only half as wrinked as my pillow as my face print clearly shows) as she gently and considerately holds the door closed THREE TIMES.
And she didn't even slam the door when she left the house.
**can you all read that caption? It says "how many times have you just thought... "if I just close my eyes the bitch will go away?" Imagine the vocal chords on that yippy foo foo dog. Now make that frow on a 22 year old Cal State Long Beach Fashion Design graduate with a flat ass and long pointy nose. Continue.**
Flash forward. I've had a work day with no one at work, a job interview where references are the only thing standing in my way of starting a new job in 40 hours, and I took the afternoon off to email from home and lay flat in bed for a while. I come downstairs while Squeeky is in the kitchen making dinner. She hears me in the next room and two minutes later says "hey, hows it goin? are you feeling any better?"
I am SHOCKED that she quite talking after only two sentances. I turned the corner and said "no, not really, but if I take any more ibuprofin I won't be able to ask my muscles to get me back up the stairs so I'm thinking of trying the vodka and ibuprofin combo of numbing myself." I see her standing in front of the glass cabinet and sneer.
Her reply as a Catholic HS graduate and current bible thumper who dates a guy for months without sleeping with them but is out in the clubs three nights a week is "oh no, thats bad. Maybe try some Vicodin or Codine, ::big exaggerated head bobbing nod:: that stuff really helped me when I would get aching stomach cramps in high school."
UM. HUH. I'm confused. You have to get over your hangover by the late service and put on your flowered skirt to match your bible cover but you were on Vicodin in high school???
I came up with something like "well, since those things would take adoctors visit and perscription and I am taking a severe pay cut to stay employed next week, maybe I'll just stick to the double shot of vodka thats already in the freezer to work through this particular bought of stress induced physical pain."
"oh, ::smack lips:: yeah, it does cost money, that sucks. blah crackapoo suckfitlbugs.." I don't know what she was talking about because I was on my way upstairs. I heard her a good two minutes later when I went to wash down some ib's with the tap water, talking away to I don't know who since K wasn't home and T was upstairs with me...
This is an example of the kind of thoughts I am subject to in my own home.
This is the same person who takes magic marker to denote which food is hers in the fridge by covering the entire label with her name. It happens to be my nicname, but spelled wrong. I was raised hearing that name from my parents and family and best friends and now it is the name that haunts my home, and its spelled wrong.
My gym bag is in the car but I'm sitting here because standing at the copier sounds like it would hurt too much. Maybe tonight I can get a nipple on that bottle of vodka before she hogs the kitchen.
Practice my sucking up skills for the new job.
OH - UPDATE - The new boss still didn't get a call back from Little Miss Bitch at 3pm and the email I got at 10am was "lets plan on a Monday start date barring any complications". Its now 5:06pm and I know LMB has been at her desk for 35 minutes since I checked on her. She was oogling a sonagram picture. She told me at 9:30am that she was swamped with meetings today but would surely get back to that call and was so glad I found something so quickly because she was worried for me. Yep. Then make the f*cking call you eye rolling whiner.
My desk was cleared of all personal belongings since last Friday, I've told who I wanted to tell I am leaving (except Soooper Cutie who is out of town again), and unless LMB decides she is going to be a 'complication', I have to warn you all my blogging will have to be after hours until I figure out how much personal time is "too much at that desk".
Until then, I have one more day in Cubeville on the books... then I forsee white walls with blue carpet and business blazers over all my outfits and an eye on all the positions in the company so I can move up in three months like all the other girls who've been at that desk in the last year =)
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
My body feels like a jello mold out of its bunt pan, my eyes refuse to fully open, my mind is in a swirl of reflection and decision making (both draining, btw), and my ENTIRE department is off site at a meeting and didn't tell me they wouldn't be here.
So here I sit, with one manilla folder of pages to look up for someone, and the rest of the day to recover from my long ass weekend.
OK, I went to Disneyland with Dad, the wife, and her daughter fresh out of rehab. So the kid hasn't seen TV or soda in 13 months and we take her to DISNEYLAND on her FIRST DAY off the ranch.
I haven't seen that kind of sugar crash since I watched a 3 year old after a box of Pixie Stix.
And her mom was on sensory overload as well... by 6pm they were on the tram to the hotel - both days.
That left Pops and I to troll Dland for something to do. I was told to plan on 5 specific things; when asked when he wanted to do them he said they weren't THAT important to him. When asked what he wanted to do before I went on my merry way, he said 'buy you somehting' in an emphaticly strained squeel.
Alright, so its 8pm the night before I go home and we go through the MAJOR store chain on main street and I, knowing I have repeatedly told him how I resent that he refuses his lack of building a relationship with me and the only reason I maintain any contact with him is because I may someday need financial support and he can find it for me, choose my items carefully so as not to fill my home with things reminding me I can be bought. The register operator asks "did you find everything alright?" and I reply "yes" as Dad rifles through the bins at the counter. Grand Total: $16.16.
Flash forward to racing through crowds gathered to watch the fireworks to get in line for Space Mountain (what changed after all that time out of operation? NOTHING.), then another trip through Main Street shops just because I didn't want to go yet. I find the watch shop... I remember every clock and watch we had as kids came from this shop. I go to the counter with the hand designed and painted faces on the $200-$500 timepeices of heavenly artistry. I admire the craftsmanship and the detail and the entire case display. I move on to the $75 range, looking at Dad in his $68 sweater he bought yesterday, knowing that he has money to burn and that I have asked him for the time no less than 3,672 times in the last 48 hours. He finds me at the OTHER $200 counter, and directs me to the rack of plastic bands in plastic packages hanging behind me with a gentle "this is more in your price range" reminder.
And with that we left the park, I dropped him at the hotel, and somehow drove away without running over his toes.
I got lost on the way home. I am used to taking the 5; I now live off the 101. So instead of taking a freeway junction I know down the road, I decide to get off the freeway, get on going the other direction, and repeat so I can catch the merger. 25 minutes later after a midnight tour of DownTown LA, I am confident in saying I will NEVER live on the streets, that there is nothing exciting about the real LA nightlife (unless you like that Primal Fear button hit every 14 seconds), and that somehow in a city obsessed with driving there are no signs directing you to a freeway unless you are AT the onramp.
I get home at 1am. I am tired, my feet hurt, Aunt Flo finally barged in after two days of ringing the doorbell, and T walks in and asks how it went.
I get to bed at 2am. I know I should read up on the companies I will interview for in the morning, but figure I can do it in the am. I wake at 8am, roll over and wake again at 9:15am, and chill with the dogs and nap again until 10:05.
I get lost trying to get to my noon appt three towns away. I can see the buildings from the freeway, but they are 8 one way street blocks from the freeway. It was a group interview, I sit through it, and get invited to a second interview.
I loose my parking ticket for the parking garage IN MY CAR and have to ask 3 cars to back up in order to get out of cue, reverse into a spot and stand up to see it leaning against the seat belt reciever. Yeah. Fun. And only severly embarassing to kill the buzz of being told that I TOO can be just like them.
I race back to my town for my 2pm interview. I am not on the list. The girl I talked to is out of the office. I sit and register online in their office since I didn't get the memo to do that earlier. I meet with someone whos been at the job two weeks and who applied to all the same jobs I did at my current Corporate America place. Ugh. She is excited at my quick talk and big smile and tells me she has a few ideas of places I would be interested in, but that my current pay is WAY above what they will be able to offer. I knew C.A. was a severe step up in pay and that I can't expect every company to match it I tell her. She lets me know that her best offer would be ::drum roll: at THEIR office.
Thats right folks. I don't get an extension at my current position because and a temp agency that sees 100 people a day wants ME to fill a spot with THEM.
So I meet the district manager or whoever the big shot is this afternoon.
I feel like jello, my body aches, stairs are my enemy of the day along with any other form of not being laid up in bed with a pup or kitty as a heating pad, and the coffee caffienated my soreness instead of my wit - but I have a second interview at a company that sees 100 people a day and liked me so much they wanted to keep me for themselves.
The REALLY cool thing is that I told them flat out that I get bored, that I will stop coming to work on time if I don't have anything to do, and that my brain needs to be used at least once a month in order to keep me from looking elsewhere. They said "we will not let you get bored, and we see that this position is certainly a starting ground for you, not a permanent place for someone with your skills and desire to get the job done."
So here I sit, with one manilla folder waiting for my attention and an hour until lunch.
And about 15 emails from friends, family, and bloggers I think I'll attend to before getting to do anything I am getting paid to be here for =)
Friday, February 17, 2006
I get the faxed in crap, I give it to the big wigs, they do some data entry about it, and give it back to me to file.
So every day I get a bunch of crap, put it in neat little stacks with paper clips staggered for convenience, and walk around cube to cube until my stacks are gone. Then I come back to my desk and read blogs until another stack of stuff needs to be walked around. =)
This morning, I take a little something over to my manager, Little Miss Bitch.
I've never liked this one.
Not since the first day when I was supposed to meet my REAL manager and SHE came down all "I'm her right hand gal, she hand picked me to work with her, so follow my 5"1', 105lb, 3inch heel wearing, fake boob falling out of my top, rickity little ass all over the building since it isn't my job to aquaint new temps with where the bathrooms are and I have to show off how everyone loves me while I have an audience."
She then became the one I bring my problems, questions and concerns too... and the one who bitches at me for taking a lunch break or getting coffee in the morning.
OK, so I'm cranky today. Whatever, its still all true.
So I take a little something over to her desk to slide into her inbox and slink away like I usually do.
She says "wait, I have something for you, hang on..."
She usually waits until right about 2pm to see if I've made it back to my desk on time, but today I happened to slip right into her scatergloried area for a ripping of monumental ego shreds unimaginable by those who have actual humanity in their vains.
I look down at the stack of papers she is giving back to me, clarify the protocol, and look up to see her turning on her sad face. This is the little "I care" smile, tilt of the head to 65 degrees toward the left, and both hands on the table. .
"I talked to your actual boss about your six month temp position coming up and she said you hadn't talked to her about it yet. I wanted to let you know that the big super top of the organizational chart manager, as far as I know, doesn't let us extend temps, so, yeah, thats where that is going. Talk to your real manager first, maybe there is something I'm missing, but I don't think we keep our temps. So, ok, talk to her like you said you were going to per our last conversation and see what she says. Alright, ok, bye."
Yeah, um, I told YOU because I can't catch HER to say "will you let me keep my shitty soul sucking meneal job for a few more months please oh please?" I TOLD YOU THAT and YOU said YOU'D make sure she was on top of the paperwork.
All that I am totally fine with. That she has obviously talked to my real manager and discussed this like she said she would, and then tells me she doesn't know anything about it, ok. This is how she operates. Got it.
That she is trying to help by giving me an overhead managers supposed possible don't really have a clue and needs to be checked on by someone you are going to have this conversation with anyway WORST CASE SCENARIO with her head all sideways and watching me realize I will not be buying anything but peanuts and top ramen in two weeks... ok, well, she likes to torture the meek (and in person I can be) and I know that about her and her perfume is Eu de SatansAss so its to be expected.
That her excuse for letting time fire me is that the big boss won't let temps stick around is where I am ready to come back from lunch with a backpack for my personals and never come back.
Miss Menthol is a temp on an extended contract.
I could have been here, freely walking to and from my workspace for the last MONTH if the big boss wouldn't extend contracts.
Maybe the smile that was lingering from Vegas at that time wouldn't have turned into this scowl I carry now.
Perhaps I wouldn't have a drink or two at home every night if I didn't have to share my mini cube with a 6' 225lb woman with no common courtesy and a serious sinus problem.
Ok. So I don't work all day. I can't get to my desk before 9:04am EVER. I tend to save work until it warrents me getting up from my chair (read:I can't leave you all!). I am no longer fun to have around. I maintain that you don't have to repeat your directions to me 13 times, then ask you for clarification. I don't like you and you can probably smell it on me.
But DO NOT treat me like an imbesile.
Do Not question my ability to understand what is really going on here.
I am in a job where I am chastised for having a thought - that does NOT mean I can't form one.
I have NEVER come to you with basic workplace complaints, never told you when you are wrong, have always been humble when pointing out where you forgot to do your job, and laugh at your stupid jokes about how you and your 14 year old keep mixing up jeans in the laundry.
I have two interviews set up for Tuesday. One for a job that I might actually really get challenged and worked and respected for in pay and prestige and personal growth; the other for a temp agency that called me the FIRST DAY I posted my resume online. It is, at this point, entirely possible that I will just pack my things today and leave all this work I keep avoiding sitting here for whoever comes next. Its almost organized, dust free, and manageable in one good day of work.
I'm not sure if the pay is worth this amount of degredation.
And my roomie says I can make a fake resume saying I've got all kinds of waitress experience and she will help me learn the basics. She makes more than I do in tips alone in a shorter work day. And she can spit in peoples food when they treat her like this and have them pay her for it.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
I mean seriously, I don't ever work. What is this???
Maybe I'm allergic and this is my body's way of saying "slow down missy, you're doing 23 minutes of consecutive work is a little much... Back Off."
Or, its lunch time.
Either way... I'm not going to make any claims as to my future productivity, but I did get the stack of stuff I left Right In Front Of Me on FRIDAY taken care of... and it took me a whole 13 minutes to do it.
Yep, I'm a great employee... don'tcha wanna hire me?? hahahehehehhahahahehe SUCKAs!!
Who says you have to be on a couch to be a couch potato?
I've evolved to being an office chair potato and I find it to be a very nice development... the only mutation seems to be Secretary Spread, but soon enough there will be 2 hr lunch breaks to be at the gym to amputate (well, sort of) this useless side effect.
Until then, the evening gym rats are pleasing enough to avoid scratching in front of...
I called the number back and it was disconnected an hour after the message was left on my VM, but I got a call for an interview!!!
I'm a little miffed that I can't get a hold of this broad who calls at 4:45pm to say "I'm interested in talking about your resume with you; tomorrow in your town would be a good time, so call me back."
So I figure its a little test... you know, like the "if they got a manicure and are comfortable with eye contact then they've just won 80% of the battle" kinda test. I'm cool with that... weed out the weak, skim the pool, filter the fucktards. Good job LaKeisha.
I sent an email through the website she found me on. I showed interest in getting together with her as she'd asked, reminded her I am currently employed and need a TINY bit of notice for an interview, and reitterated my contact info for her convenience.
I got a call for an interview folks!!!! Yipee!!
So, I had PLANNED on having the whole 18 square feet of cube to myself today because Miss Menthol told me as she left yesterday that she was too PMSy and wouldn't be coming in today.
Do a little dance with me ya'll!!!
I come in and there she is... wet hair, sweat pants, flip flops, and all "morning dear, how are you?"
"I'm good. What are you DOING here?"
"Well, the only way I could be more comfortable is if I take my bra off ::wheeze hack cough:: and with my manager off today for her birthday and my mini-me having her last day today, I thought I'd be here. But see, I'm all dressed like I'm home on the couch!!"
"uh huh. and you can leave at lunch if you feel like it?"
"I can leave whenever I want!! But see, there is some stuff I can do here, so I want to be here in case something happens."
"umm... your boss is gone and your shadow is packing to move to her new desk and yesterday you were bored for 6 hours and TODAY you have stuff to do and something might happen? Ok, well, my phone is ringing so I'm gonna go take this call..." you life sucking, black cloud sharing Hefer who blocks me into my grey corner and hords my working desk space!!! Go on another smoke break Wheezy and be sure to bring back some carby fat loaded something from the deli to shove in my face when you don't like it and don't forget your cup of crunchy fuckin veggies to knaw on for the next three hours on your way back...
So I go around the corner to take a call from a number I didn't recognize. I know everyone can hear me, but I don't know whose calling and there is a congregation of 6 at the corner of hell-whole-alley and get-me-to-sunshine. When I realize its a recruiter for ANOTHER management trainee application I'd submitted, I BOWL OVER the little pow wow and try not to flat out run to the outside doors. With one deep breath I say "good morning, I'm sorry to keep you waiting but I'm at the office and the reception in the building is terrible... you were saying something about an interview on Tuesday?" A very friendly James gave me the digs on when and where and with whom I will have my one hour sit down. My pen is scribbling the shit out of this postit while he rambles this stuff off like its one of 100 he has to do in the next hour, he wishes me a 'good career fit here' before offering his direct number for any further questions.
Um, Yah Ya'll, I got ANOTHER call for an interview!!!!
Here is my Fa-vor-ite part. This all happened at 9:15am. I wipe the shit is finally starting to happen for me grin off my face and buzz back into the building. As I fumble with turning down the ring on the phone without smearing my interviewers name, I look up and see Little Miss Manager coming toward me. I'm not at my desk at quarter after the bell and she isn't in a very good mood (3 peice suit spells disasterous day).
She almost gets a fake smile out with her "hey, hows it goin?"
I speedily reply "pretty good, but I can't get my phone to stop ringing!"
"Well, things could be worse I guess, right? hehehe"
"You're right - I don't mind getting calls =)"
HA haha HA, Little Miss... you just keep not telling me if I have a job here in two weeks... just keep on not giving me any clue as to if I can pay rent next month... go on, I dare ya to string me along... I'm double your size and could toss you're waify little size 0 fake titty'd smirk across this hallway before not telling you what on my desk goes where in the files and just leave you're insincere smile and joke of a managerial style up a creek full of HS dropout temps.
Actually, I'm in a good mood and my soul is smiling today... but it sure is fun to know I have a very real possibility of not having to hope for more of this as my best option in life!!
Quick thought... is it possible to maintain healthy eating habits while having vacationers with FAT cash purses escort you to Disneyland? Can a peice of German Chocolate cake the size of your head eaten a few days before serve as a gentle reminder of how NOT to enjoy a meal? Just thinkin...
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
T and I are convinced that if we had met her BEFORE she moved in, we could have had a conversation about how free the structure of the house is, how we all live here and call it home and how the 'rules of the house' are set up to support that.
I open my fridge last night CONVINCED all I wanted was a beer. I didn't want the cans K contributed, so I went to the case of bottles under the bench/window seat and put a few in the fridge and two in the freezer.
I go upstairs to find something to do until the beer is cold and somehow the smell of fried burgers is stronger in my room than in the kitchen.
I find myself talking out loud TO MYSELF with keys in hand, purse under arm, and sliding shoes on at the door in PJ PANTS and a free Tshirt saying "there is nothing at Carls Jr that you really want, this is just because you smell burgers, you nearly puke up whatever you ever eat from there, you can eat the roasted turkey breast if you want meat, put the purse DOWN MISSY".
Actually happened. The dog was like "um, are you fucking nuts? are we leaving or what?"
So I go to the freezer to check my beer. Its been about four minutes by now, I'm thinking maybe. I see the freezy cups with the ice encapulated between the thick layers of neon green plastic with the flimsy handle and think "I can get my mouth around that - its worth a shot!"
Yes, I am that lunatic who will not remember that every time I bring this cup to my face I wear my drink.
No matter, there is beer to be had and I WIL NOT pour it Over ice, might as well be Into it.
I open the fridge to get the turkey and see a four pack box of Diet RockStars. Alright, at least I'll know where the cans came from next time and who to blame for stacking them on the leaning tower of recycling we tend to leave for ME to shove into the bag and drag outside... because there, in big red Sharpy marker across the top of the box, is Squeeky's name.
Before I could get a sip to dribble elegantly down my face, before the dog could calm down from the maybe of a ride she was offered, before I could feel the freedom that only PJ pants worn commando can offer... I am in my home saying in my mothers demon voice "thats just fucking GREAT!!! Y O U Have G O T to be Kidding Me!"
You know that voice. The one that comes from a woman when she has nothing left but the evil that spawns week long bleeds and no noticeable death. That voice when you were REALLY in trouble.
It came from a place in me I only thought I had. It rumbled through my chest, a purity of power and strength that would surely move a car off my Georgeous Girl (since I don't have kids) or let me punch a ballsack and then a cheekbone without ever feeling it in my hand.
I knew, in one glimpse, that my life as I know it is gone.
Its all downhill.
And I may become violent and have no recollection of the event.
I downed half the beer, cut some turkey, added a side of cottage cheese, and grabbed the other beer from the fridge before sitting down to eat.
I ate and remembered the breathe is the life force and that I was fueling my body and not my anger at this squeekbag of a bleach blonde hunchback who flat out refuses to allow anyone elses ideas penetrate her Catholic ingrained dogma of superiority.
I remembered that morning, when I watched her get into the loaf of bread I bought for two pieces of toast and the box of crackers T bought for a ziploc full of snack. I remembered her saying over and over that in her last house they each had a shelf and it worked great. I looked up to see the bottle of ketchup my last date brought over, the mayonaise jar T and I decided would be best on our last shopping trip, and the bag of lettuce that I distinctly remember K demanding be part of HER stash.
I remembered to breathe slowly and deeply and to clear my mind of the thoughts of pounding on Squeeky's door while she mowed dinner to point out that leaving condiments on the counter is a good way to give us food poisoning. I thought of adding "since its pretty clear you feel whatever you add to the food supply is for you alone, I would never suspect that the mayo I paid for would be the culprit for making me sick one day since I am very sure to clean up my mess before I ever leave the kitchen to eat."
It was all I could do not to sink to her level and demand that she play by our rules.
And it is ALL I CAN DO not to print sheets of labels with mine and Ts name on them so as to be clear that if we have a division of property issue in the single apartment sized fridge, that means that more than two bank accounts will be drained for the mysterious disappearance of cheese and tortillas, snack crackers, peanut butter, and mayo our fridge fairies can't explain.
If you have ever had a roomie who played these games, tell me how to maintain my sanity and my food budget with this two faced sack of self righteousness. I'm about this worn out just being home these days:
It was a series of pics, and he makes it over, but THIS STAGE was a challenge ya'll!!
Friday, February 10, 2006
I decide a cup of tea might curb the appetite and give me the pep I NEED to deal with Miss "Bugs Bunny" Menthol and the Friday Funk that settles over a marketing department that is still at work on a Friday afternoon.
As I bob the little bag in and out of the steaming hot water I wonder who the first person was to say "hey babe, lets teabag tonight". I watch the dark caffinated magic ooze and swirl with the dissolving sugar cube fighting for its composure in the bottom as I weave and bob my little brew.
Just then, I get a visitor.
I've never met this little indian woman before, but she starts with a smile and a "how is your afternoon going?" so I return the smile and say "its good but after this cup of tea I think it will be great!"
Yes, this is what came out of my mouth on a Friday at 3:30pm. The test said I was 40% weird; I am trying to figure out what part of me fits into the 60% when this peppy shit comes pouring out of my face.
She looks me dead in the eye and says "I LOVE tea, but I just drink water hear because I don't want to deal with making it."
Blink with me here folks. I will now offer the rest of the conversation the only way my 9th grade English teacher would allow.
Me: "Yeah, sometimes I don't bother, but today we have a new coffee maker with the hot water spout on it, and the box of tea bags is right there, so I went for it."
Her: "Uh huh. (Slurps on half a cup of water. This cup is identical to the one I am brewing tea in as they came from the same stack.) I know, it is just tea, but then you have the sugar to deal with, and it just gets to be a big deal."
Me: "Oh. Yeah. I sometimes drip from the teabag as I try to throw it away, then I have to wash my hands because I didn't want it to drip on my shoe, then my hands get dry and I have to put lotion on at my desk... I can see how it would be enough to make me stick to water."
Her: "OH NO. I just leave the bag in the cup. I just throw them away together."
Me: Watching her finish her water and refill it halfway and take another drink; "See, to me I just grab a cup, put the bag in, put the sugar CUBE in there, pour the water in, and pull the bag out when its dark enough. Is there a better way to make tea that you are keeping from me? (giggle here to try not to make it seem like I am calling her the scariestly retarded EMPLOYED PERMANENTLY AT THIS COMPANY ergo probably has a college degree)"
Her: "Well, I guess the water is right here (the spout NEXT TO the water she is pouring into the cup for the third time isn't the water I used, but whatever - there are TWO hot water spouts within a foot of each other, and that doesn't count the tap). But even at home I make my husband make it for me. I guess I am just so lay-zeee. Sometimes he says 'I don't want to' and I say 'just one cup!!' I just drink the water here so I don't have to deal with it. Nice to meet you!" and she exits the room.
Me: "uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhh, whew. wow. holy crapminster." I add ice to my cup of tea, continue to watch the swirling osmosis, and it hits me.
I just met a woman who is too lazy to make tea who has a permanent job at a very competatively sought after company who whines to get her HUSBAND to do things for her.
I enjoy how the cosmos have taught me certain lessons in my life, I Really don't want to be all "this little hunk of wasted breath has How Much Stuff I Want in MY Life" or "these are the people we make individually wrapped everything for and it is STILL too much effort to unwrap the paper from the tea bag, pick up an 8oz cup, drop in a sugar cube, and pick the red spicket instead of the blue" but I've already had my work place smack in the face this week and I'm not sure how much more of this I can take!!!!!
I found a representation of how I felt talking to this disgusting cutely perfect chicka; I had originally labeled it "Bite Me" and I think that is appropriate:
Its Friday. Its breaktime. I'm out. See ya after a weekend at a chocolate festival. Maybe I'll get laid or a date for next week or a call from any of the hosers who only ask for titty shots and never for the dinner that will get them the real thing... see? Its making me crazy just being here!! I've gotta bail.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
OK, its toward the end of my day and I've cleared my desk of anything I will realisitically do in heels so I'm on to the really important crap - blogthings tests.
Prepare yourself to see the truest me in 5 questions or less...
Laurie, this one is for you:
|You Are 40% Weird|
Normal enough to know that you're weird...
But too damn weird to do anything about it!
And also, depending on the convolution of names I give, this is entertaining... this is what you get when using Miss Sassy:
|Your Penis Name is: Bavarian Beefstick|
Though my favorite may have been Elvis. huh? Name it Elvis?
And this one is down right scary in its accuracy - considering it only had two quesitons:
|What Your Underwear Says About You|
You've washed your underwear so many times, you don't know what color it used to be.
You're a closet exhibitionist who gets a thrill from being secretly naughty.
And for the REAL DEAL, try this gem:
|Your Hidden Talent|
Your natural talent is interpersonal relations and dealing with people.
You communicate well and are able to bring disparate groups together.
Your calming presence helps everything go more smoothly.
People crave your praise and complements.
Now, how do they get all that super personal information by my choice of a picture?? My psych major is getting the better of me... time to bid farewell to Cubeville and dance my flab off with the little rolly polly spanish woman who has us shake our asses to the wiightlifters and yell 'TEQUILA!" while jutting our hips forward - may become my favorite since she assumed it would take six weeks of constant work to pick up the steps and I'm 90% there on week one!!! (yes, I am bragging. yes, the little blonde bimbette college girls got confused and didn't want to come back. yes, there is a ballerina in class who makes the rest of us look like lemmings roaming around the room. yes, you can compliment my club induced savaunt like brilliance on the dance floor without shame.)
This was from my phone camara yesterday morning.
You can see the cross of the plaid on the blanket I climbed back under when I mysteriously woke up 7 minutes before my alarm that usually gets snoozed at least twice. The dogs were abnormally active since my roomie got a job that requires her to be up and out by 6:45am and usually they snuggle in her room when I have to drag my groggy ass out of bed.
In the forefront and taking up the entire right side of the pic is the nose of my Gorgeous Girl as she didn't want to keep her face on my chest while I reached for the phone on the table behind me. She is old and grey in the face, but sweet as punkin pie when she nuzzles me for more ear rubbin.
Below the crook of my knee under the blanket is the curl of the black freakin lab my roomie refuses to train or take to the dog park. He is really sweet but dumb in that unruly way. Typically he sits on the floor and LEEEAAAANS with a groan against the side of the bed for a little morning scrub down... yesterday he was talking/fake barking (learned that from my girl, thanks so much) at me until I pushed GG off me and reached for him so I invited him up with us. Silly me I thought he'd stand over my head for a chest scratch or curl on the pillows I find him sunbathing in on lunchbreaks. Instead he decided the stacks of linens that were moved out of the hall cabinet to make room for the litter box cubby we made were Perfect for curling on... his nose is tucked in between the arches of my feet here.
So its 7am and I am awake. This NEVER happens. NEVER. I have Mr. Big Stuff curled at my feet, my Gorgeous Girl aka Short Stack curled at my belly, the sun coming in through the window, and the calm that only the morning can bring.
Then they realized I wasn't rushing into the shower. They have been taking in the kinetic energy from my hand rubbing them all over, they have been out to pee, they see that I am content in giving them all my attention. They find the stash of tennis balls. They toss them to each other and then to me.
For some reason the pic won't get off my phone, but you get the idea. Its first thing of the day, we had cuddle time, and now its chaos of tennis balls flying and running and stomping and flying down the stairs... Its time for me to get in the shower while they aren't looking!!! When I emerge from the fog of the bathroom 10 minutes later, they are Passed Out in my roomies room, where I normally find them in the mornings. Mr. Big Stuff is on her bed, the sun warming his hind haunches and his face under the corner of a blanket. My Gorgeous Girl is on the rug, in full sunshine, except her face which she has positioned in the shadow of the bed. The cats are tiny curls of fluff amidst her pillows, and all was normal in the world again... except for the warmness of my heart and the curl of my lips =)
Mostly because I get bored at work and the longer I do personal stuff, the less boredom I have to muster through.
So I have three that get emailed to me at various email addresses. One is all in depth with the whole spiritual aspect involved, another is so full of "could", "maybe", and "perhaps" that it could be written by a 5 year old when asked if they got into the cookie jar, and the third is a one sentance "here is you day, deal" quickie.
This morning I was not fooled by the empty Miss Menthol chair. As I read the second inbox worth of worthless junk, she comes in and tells me three times that she was just running late again. By the time she sits, talks to her computer screen, gets her boogers all aligned for maximum audio confermation that she is indeed still breathing, and pops in a piece of gum (yep, the mastication begins the moment she gets here), I notice a trend.
The soulful three paragraph tour of my day mentioned allowing others to be themselves and take every frustration as a chance to learn about oneself. The single wishywashy paragraph said my mental aspects are gonna be sharp as a tack and they will be tested to keep my emotions in line, that I suck at emotional control and today there will be nonstop hurdles to condition me to have my emotional aspects meet the mental agility I have control over. The one liner was simply "Some challenging situations might be in your way right now -- the most important being how you're going to speak your mind without losing your temper. Learn to acknowledge all your feelings. "
So its quarter to 10am and I have my headphones in already. I figure if I can keep quiet and at my desk like a hermit, I won't go OFF on whoever decides its a good day to ask me what all the papers at my desk are doing at my desk.
Fortunately I went to the yoga class last night. She had us standing on our heads and doing back bends and all these inverted poses that are supposed to be good for clearing the mind.
I already feel the tingle in my shoulders... as sure sign my ears will have pedastols to rest on in short order... or that I'll be ready to forceably toss anything thats in my way.
Oh, and that one where your legs are spread wide and you lean to the right with your right hand down your right leg and your left arm to the sky? Its called the triangle. And the little teacher chick said "gooood" when she walked by my triangle. But the room is full of mirrors and I can see that the only reason my right hand is on my ankle instead of the floor is the fat roll created in this position. My muscles were loose, my balance was awsome, and I couldn't stretch any more because of the spare tire created by squishing the fat together in the middle.
So I'm gonna be a little hungry until that goes away.
You've been warned.
And I'm NOT telling my coworkers. They will just have to see if I can speak my mind without loosing my temper all on their own.
Quick good will wishes to Avatar; being a temp sucks and being a temp that gets fired right after affirmations that you rock sucks monkey balls.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
The duration of these first months in Corporate America has been accompanied by Miss Menthol, My Cubemate.
If I were Laurie, I would shank her every week.
This is my impression of Miss Menthol (named for her type of cigarette which I am familiar with because she frequently rushes back to our 18 square feet (thats carpet squares for our two work spaces, not total space to move in) and sits in front of her fan and flips her hair afterward, sparking questions to me as to what kind of ciggies I prefer because my clothes and hair stink like I smoke):
See all that food? On the plate and in the mouth? And how it looks like that fat little chow hound isn't moving any time soon? Yep, I think it looks a lot like her - except Miss Menthol is six feet tall, stuck in the 80's half perm and black eyeliner with bangs to her lower lashes, and all the weight she carries is in her belly like she is about to birth a Virginia Ham.
Yesterday it was a toasted onion bagel with cream cheese at 10am, salmon and steamed (but still crunchy!) veggies at 11:30am that was snacked on before she left for 'lunch' at 12:30pm.
She returned to her desk at 1:50pm to really dig into the food that was sitting at her desk the whole time.
She commented on how it smells more fishy when its cold.
I left for lunch and came back to find her still HAND FEEDING herself bites of salmon, but she had moved on to her favorite snack of the month - a cup of carrot and celary sticks. I can't be sure if she left the peanut butter off because I was so disgusted at listening to her chew ALL DAY that the headphones were shoved in my audio caves and proudly bopping my head to the tune of the minute.
When she leaves at 5pm, she hands me the box of uneaten steamed at whenever this morning and been sitting ON HER DESK since 11:30am, asking if I wanted some fresh veggies to go with. She then handed me the rest of the fresh veggies as a bit of carrot is still being masticated.
I proceed to toss the funky food and loath Cubeville.
Today I come in and her computer isn't showing signs of her presence!!!!! I do a little ass shake and twirl in the cube as I easily slide into my seat.
You see, she got an extension to her temp position but only until they hire a full timer - then she's out. Her birthday was last week and her celebratory trip to the casino has her sitting pretty on months worth of car payments (the only reason she still comes in, supposedly).
I am overwhelmed with glee and my smile is engulfing my head when I hear her clodhoppen hooves get off the elevator and that raspy half laugh telling someone to have a great day with the 'bye bye' severly articulated to be sure it sounds insincere.
She comes in and boasts that she just didn't have the gumption to come in on time and so she didn't. Whatever. I am thrilled at the idea that all her extra time at home may give me a break in the noises of the trough she calls a desk.
Alas, I am a sucka.
35 minutes was all it took and she was off for breakfast. I got to hear the crunch of the walnuts and the slurp of the milk in every spoonful of her cream of wheat.
This is normally the part of the day I bombard myself with music, but today I was expecting numerous phone calls and pop ins and its never good to be checking CBW sites with headphones on when your boss is expected any minute - so I leave the headphones in my purse and concentrate on my own breath (yoga, chakras, third eye out of whack; you get where I'm going).
I finally get to leave my desk in search of someone and come back to find she is gone again!!! Oh Saving Silverman this is gonna be an alright day!
Oh, no, I am just an overzealous romantic with granduristic optomistic tendencies.
She was getting lunch. Tuna sandwich. That she puts together herself. With crunchy lettuce, goopy spoons to lick, and bite after bite coming from her desk, across the blast from her fan, into her mouth. This forces her to breath through her nose, which, like everyone's, is playing tricks on her due to the wind outside. So shes got the sniffles due to wind, and the fan at her desk that shoots right at her face is pushing the scent of tuna sandwich right at me. Got the scene in your mind??
Here I am in the pants I wore to my first post college job interview loathing the idea of taking lunch so early in the day, planning the gym routine for the evening, still trying to concentrate on my breathing while I wait for one last phone call, convincing myself that the only reason I want to eat is that I smell tuna.
Its now 1pm here. She is STILL eating that sandwich. She didn't take off for lunch. She has had TWO cigarette breaks since she started eating that sandwich. And I am about to drop my letter opener into the back of her neck if she doesn't stop sucking the bits of fish flesh from her teeth.
It is finally late enough in my day that I can feel ok about stuffing my face with a tuna sandwich. I have been adamant about not eating at my desk and find that control over my eating is a fantastic evolution on my will power and motivation in general. She looks me in the face and says "my birthday calories that don't count have been extended all week!! I don't know what they put in these cornbread muffins but they are gud." She leans toward me, pulls out the trash can, and, maintaining eye contact, SHOVES the muffin in until it won't go in anymore and smacks wide jawed until there is enough yellow paste dissolved to try to keep her chompers from full view.
So yesterday was onion bagels and salmon and crunchy veggies; today so far we have slurpy breakfast soup and two hours to eat a tuna sandwich.
The up side is she tends to disgust me with her bloated pregnant look, need for the elevator instead of stairs, and constant mow behavior that I actually loose my appetite. Though I am still in pants from years ago and they still fit, this has GOT to be aiding my health kick... right????
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
I want a whole post to talk about what I think about in the potty.
Yes, I am a full grown woman who loves to use the word potty. Potty Potty Pot Pot Potty. I don't have kids, but lemme tell you, I enjoy the 'wanna go potty?' conversation with the dog Every Day.
Its just fun.
And its a great place to collect your thoughts, if you don't have a cat wrapped around your leg or a dog licking your kneecap.
These thoughts all hit me today in the office stalled (not private) potty spot (though I Always snake the big one - its just better not to hit your elbows while trying not to hear other people poop.)
I had a big BIG confirmation that I am evloving as a self actualized woman - I shaved my cooch without any prospect of anyone else seeing it.
I was sick of changing into my gym clothes and getting three steps into visibility to the rest of the Super Cramped common area before the tiny undies I put on (I NEVER have panty lines and those workout pants are So Good for seeing my ass in that mirror wall; so out comes the stringy ones that, well, I just don't want my lips flappen when I stretch) start yankin on the wiry SOBs in the crease where my leg meets my lip.
I was quietly irking at the lack of direct cooch rub I would get by rocking in my chair at work; there was an unfamiliar pillow keeping me from my midday tease.
I soared with the idea that someday I would be in a long term committed relationship where I would enjoy keeping trim for my man but for now I can just shave the calves for the skirt I want to wear and leave the rest to fuzz up.
And I enjoyed the little finger warmer sensation at bed time.
Then, I noticed it. The smell of a woman. Coming from me.
I could tell what I had for lunch when I changed at the gym.
I realized why some guys just Won't. Go. There. after a long day.
There was a familiarity about that bottom filing drawer that should NEVER come to you while at work.
I knew that the woman in me was curious what her womaness looked like in its natural state; the woman in me that does laundry was dismayed at her inability to wear pants twice or thrice before washing.
I knew I had the power in my showered little hand.
And I hacked myself naked for the first time in a month.
Now, I am realizing all this while in the potty today. Its been a full day and a half since I dulled that razor and I am starting to get a little uncomfortable with growback stubble - surely the reason I decided to let it go the last time, since the legs haven't been lucky enough to miss the triumphant fun of stripping their top layers and being whipped by winds in the last month.
I then realized, in the ambiance that just sat with me as the heat from my legs and my pants aired before me, a bonus to being a girl.
You can change the scent of being a woman with a simple everyday habit - scented lotion.
Last week I was a bit sweet with a distinct musk that only comes with body oils having something to hang on to - this week I am a fruity floral that can only come in a muted orange bottle labeled "Embrace Today".
So there I was, sitting on the pot in the potty spot leaning over my knees to sniff the generous scents of womanness and Embrace Today and looking at my freshly shaved cooter and how nicely it all fits together there in the folds of my skin...
Ah, crap. Well, my mind is now racing over all that fun stuff. And I still have an hour to kill. Before I got to the gym. To see the little 20 yr old I saw stocking the melons at the store two weeks ago. And my gym rat dude who apparently came off hiatus and now has clients to keep him in my view every night of the week. And that other buff ass gym rat dude who is there Every Time I am and doesn't remember that I was the chick everyone was supposed to be super nice to when I started there (membership mishap, I don't wanna talk about it) and That is why he automatically posts a big salesman smile with the wink when I walk by. Mmmmm... and all the freshies who were in football last year and now in the off season get to work out with the normal people.
Yep, I'm officially ready for CBW.
I've realized how nice it is to have a cleaned off cooter, enjoyed the heated scent of myself mixed with the flavor of the day, and somehow imagined myself finding out how well I can work on my wrist strength with half the gym that I will be at in 45 min.
Ohm. Ohm. Ohm.
The big upside to having fluff on my muff was that when this little storm started its brewen I would have a natural barrier before the squishies got to me.
Oh, thats another fun word - squishy. Squishhhhy. Sqoooooishy. Sqooch. Cooch.
Ah boogers I did it again!!!! Boogers. Boog. Boogie. Booogga booogga. Pooka. Pookie. Poodie. Poodie Tang. Poonanie.
Fuck it, I have to go take care of something -
Monday, February 06, 2006
Is it a bit screwy that Miss Menthol has been part of numerous whisper meetingswith my bosses ... and within 48 hours I get a slew of new work to do or asked what MINUTE I left for lunch? And that she takes off for 15 minutes at a time no less than 6 times a day goes completely unnoticed?? And that I have never had a meeting with any of her team???
Is there something really complicated about taking lunch breaks to eat?? Or is there some rule about working at a desk that I missed while answering the phone that demands that lunch breaks be taken during a part of the day when everyone needs you only to return with lunch in hand to chomp in their face while they freak out that you were missing?
I get the whole health kick. I do. I really really do. But whose brilliant idea was it to sell nuts, carrots, celery, rice cakes, and stale (read: crumbs EVERYWHERE) crunchy baguettes to a bunch of cubies who can't get to the next building for food?? I mean we KNOW they will just go back to the desk and munch them, so are we just HOPING they will take it outside and not ruin the sanity of the rest of the quad?
I ordered some supplies, including a special order item, the first week of January. I got half the basic order the next day. Today I got the special order stuff (perhaps because I emailed on Friday saying "dude, 2 weeks my ass, give me the Dilbert day planner pages or I'm gonna tell on you"). I am still waiting for the rest of the backorder. I mean seriously, its a day planner!! I just got the special order stuff from the same company!! This is something that is a Stock Item and should be easy to have on hand. Don't even try to tell me manufacturing is backed up because they forgot to make enough for all the oraganizing freaks that came out of the closet on New Years. I want my little leather bound book AND reciept envelopes that have the holes punched right in them and little zipper pouch. Now.
My chakras are WAY off. I did a yoga class on Saturday and it was more in the traditional vein with the sitting on your feet and chanting and laying down for naps in the middle of it and all that. I've gotta say, I know its the first time for this kind of yoga for me, but I felt REALLY OFF when the room gets all into it and I'm stuck with having to stare at myself in the mirror and say "do not laugh at them. it is not funny. you are uncomfortable. omg, they don't know the words but still want to sing!!!! do. not. laugh. it is your first class. go with it and see what happens."
No joke. Almost spewed boogers all over my mat trying to keep this to myself.
Even with all the fluid movements and naps ("lay on your stomach, toes touching, heels apart, make a pillow of your hands, turn your head to one side, now close your eyes and breath deeply". I wanted a carpet square, but the mat wasn't bad) and guided breathing and focusing on my life force, all I did when I came home was have fajitas, crack a beer, and vedge. It took me all day to get off that couch, and when I did I just went back to the gym to get my heart to start pumping again. Perhaps this is the 'worse before it gets better' part but I really won't be rolling out of bed and rushing over to the 11:30am class if all its gonna do is make me sleep through the rest of my Saturday. I mean I do that already, I don't need chanting and public naps to help me out.
I don't want to grow up. Sweets in the cube next to me has $2500 in an account with a big major investment company that she put in 10 years ago and they now don't like her tiny account anymore and have asked her to close the account or they will charge her $30 a month until it empties itself and closes all on its own. So every two days since she got this letter (before we left for Christmas) I have gotten to hear her defend her right to have access to her own money, told them she would never have thought to leave the company unless they TOLD HER TO, faxed a form no less than 6 times, FedEx'd it twice, and plain old mailed it the first time. She has a list of names of every person shes talked to, has three managers that know her by name, and STILL is fighting to get her money.
I just found a really cool tin that I don't know what to do with. I think its my new savings account. If this is the pain in the arse you have to get the returns on your investments, I don't think I'll be up for it at retirement. I'll just take my tin of old school paper money to the airport and get the ever lovin f*ck out of town.
The are f*cking with my coffee again. Last week we got new pocket sized packs of the preground cheeeeep stuff. This week we now have the massive caraffe with the ppuuusssshhhh button on top. Having just mastered the sugar cube to sludge to powdered 'creamer' (seriously, can you call it creamer if it is in powder form? do we call ice 'liquified ice' when it completely changes consistancy and usefullness? NO. Its not right.) ratio, I am a little cranky about this. Here is the problem: lets see how long it takes to teach this many monkeys that when you make that much coffee, you need to rip open MORE PACKETS of coffee or else its just, well, bean tea. OK, not too big a deal, right? I mean now there is like NO excuse to be out of coffee at 9am, right? But these freaks were all about the two packets per pot before, and now there is a sign saying how convenient it is to rip open one packet and brew. IT ISN"T COFFEE IF YOU CAN SEE THROUGH IT.
I got an email this morning titled "FYI". The contents were "have you thought about this?" followed by a job description. Its the permanent position for my cubemates job. She is not qualified for the job she has been doing. The deparment is making it a permanent position beacuse of the audit she performed during the last quarter of last year, but with the new status of the position they are requiring that all candidates be certified smart. I happen to be certified smart. I happen to know the hiring manager and half the department, including the direct manager. They all think I'm Midas or some crap because I know how to file. While that hasn't transfered respect to any of the rest of my potential, I have a sneaky feeling that I know all of the interview panal and the forwarding party's followup of "let me know if I can be of any help" could get me in the door.
I applied for it as I was composing this post. I didn't tell my cubemate. I still have some issues with Cubeville being the best opportunity in town. This is everlasting. I wonder if there is some perfect job for everyone or if some of us are just lazy enough to find going to the gym for a nap a waste of a morning.
As the bosses chit chat for the last half hour of their day, right behind my desk, I contemplate how much nicer it would be to sit here knowing I had a dentist appointment, a physical, a massage, and three gym classes scheduled this week that were to be comped by the company. I think of how nice it would be to call in sick when I get sick ::knock on wood:: instead of wondering if I can make it with another short paycheck this month. I think of all the money the company would already put into a 401K for me, how many paid holidays I would have the first year, and how great 'fermentation seminars' would be with the likes of these lads I see every day.
Hmmm... and as the bosses that came in at 9:23am area bolting out the door after a two hour lunch today, I wonder "is it REALLY that bad to be here??"
With that, I'm out to catch the sunset... with my purse in hand in case I need something from my car... or to sit in because the wind picks up... um, yeah... (and if you have temps, just say hi once in a while, they are people too... otherwise don't bitch when they shuffle your files and bail early)
Friday, February 03, 2006
Actually I got a few comments about Mr. Fish here...
I thought of this photo while I watched Tivo'd "Lost" last night. I'm not sure how I'd missed this before, but the episode was a repeat where we learn about Hurley's past life.
To you non-followers (or those who SUCK at names, like I usually do - seriously, I can read a BOOK and not know the name of the main character if you ask me with my face in it), Hugo Hurley is the fat guy who after 50 some odd days hasn't lost any massive amounts of weight.
Yes they found a food locker but that wasn't until like a month later and he shared it with everyone even though Jack the hot doctor who used to be Charlie in "Party of Five" and the sole reason I missed the entirety of season one (how do you get over Charlie turning into Jack??? Take a year to get used to the idea, thats how. And Yes, I do miss Bailey too. But not Miss I'm so friggen cute I can squeak and fake cry through every episode Sarah, played my Miss Jennifer my tits were too big for my body until I ate something and got terrible bangs on my new show Love Hewitt.)
Hurley can also be recognized by the amazingly curly hair to his shoulders which probably isn't the most flattering style for the roundy face he has, but it does hide the sideburns and stays remarkably unfrizzed dispite the constant rainstorms and beachy breeze he is subjected to.
(ok, I wonder and wonder who is keeping the electric razor charged so all the guys don't have beards by now. I think I saw a straight razor in one episode, but they all seem to maintain that three day stubble for like WEEKS and it kinda freaks me out. At the same time I wonder if there is a switch in the brain that says "desert island + no food + lots of hot girls in clothes that stay terrifically tight and in place while never being washed or taken off = save bodily resources and acheive maximum Stetson Man appeal by not growing facial hair after three days." I also wonder if the girls have the same switch and thats why they don't have to braid their armpit hair already. Lemme know yo.** This is starting to distract me from the drama of the show.**)
I'm getting all wrapped up in it, I know.
The point was gonna be - check out the puffer fish. Then think of Hurley. Think of the close ups when he is biting his lip to not laugh at himself. Think of how often they have him turning to face someone and you get a partial profile with a great view of his puffy bottom lip, wide round eyes, and a super round face to frame these features. Now look at the puffer fish.
See!!! That little flipper hangen down frames the shot like Hurley's locks frame the, well, shot** half the time hes on screen. That unassuming face with the sweet lack of chisle or crease... and the potential to freak you right the f*ck out if you cross either of them (did you see how he was all fierce with Charley on the rerun this week? Come On, that was somethin!)
Yes, I do like Hurley. Not in a Must Have Him Now kinda way; more like a I'd Like To Play Darts And Share A Pitcher At The Watering Hole way. Yes, I would like to bump into some guy at the Scoop Shoppe who is as mild mannered, go with the flow, eager to please, shy in his pursuits yet determined to a fault to get what he wants (he ended up in Australia and landed him on that flight because he NEEDED to KNOW. That is dedication).
Go on. Give me shit. I don't care. He's cute. And so is the fish. Blow me* if you don't agree.**
*That works on SSOOOOO many levels here, doesn't it??
**I do not know whats with all the rhyming today. Just go with it.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
1 - I saw my gym rat dude again. He's been kinda MIA since I met him way back when... then Monday I saw him giving a free session to someone and watched him the whole time (hence the treadmill episode - seriously, those things are evil and I got off with vertigo for like 7 minutes). Then last night I went to take a class for the first time and asked if there was a protocol and the snotty 17 year old behind the counter told me to sign up on the clipboard where the trainer was standing. It was him. He was blissfully chatting with another freebie with his elbow right over the clipboard. It took a minute for anyone to notice I was just standing there, two feet from him, in my frumpy college sweatshirt and the missettes all smashed into a sports bra, seeing the definition of the bicep next to the triceps right above the elbow where his black tee ended and his tanned and toned skin began. One of the WAY too perky dude counter helpers asked if there were anything he could help me with and gym rat dude was quick to turn, look me right in the face with only the slightest recognition (or massive recognition without the gall to show it) while he said "well next time, just push me out of the way!" I stumbled on 'well ok then!' as he took his client down the counter a bit. Ah, a bit of a reason to be at the gym - much more fun to admire his strong swagger than the greasy hair guido that barely keeps the feet movin and doesn't hide his need to be on a machine next to the walkway, nor his need to watch the girls asses walk by until he is completely twisted in the other direction; boyfriend in tow or not. No joke. I laughed out loud at him last week. Better than muted Jeopardy.
2 - Its Miss Menthols birthday today. I came in to a severely decorated cube and a plate of straight from the tube to the oven cookies. They were half gone by lunch and I didn't/ haven't had ONE. That's right folks - this hating my body type out of nowhere syndrome has really taken its hold on me to the point of choosing water over fresh baked chocolate chip cookies!! Don't get me wrong, if they were real Tollhouse, mixed with two bare hands, misshapen and monstrously oversized... I would have snagged a stack while she was on her 1.75 hour lunch. Yes, MOT, I did tell her boss when she went to lunch... and her coworker came in saying something about how its her birthday and she should have stayed out until 3!!!
3 - Whoever thought to serve french fries with tacos is retarded. It just doesn't make sense.
4 - The size -2 (no kidding, she can't buy real clothes, she has to get them taken in to fit) freak of a smokers cough that used to be my direct manager came in today at 11am with a gigantic coke and a very full bag of fast food to share with my 105lb boss. They stunk up the place with hot salty greasy stench of cheap crappy food and it made me hungry about two hours early. Both of these girls I would gladly take over my knee and paddle if I weren't so afraid that their vampire-esque acrylic nails could quickly be used to carve into my torso and pick my heart out cleanly... or sever my Achilles tendon in one quick lash... oh, and I would really need to find a job, like, now if I swaddled my managers. Agh, nice thought though =)
5 - I was invited by Tempura (remember the guy who I was gonna do sushi dinner with before he went home at Thanksgiving who ended up staying here until after Christmas; I drove to his parents house for another sushi dinner and came home to get my CDs stolen from my car?? that guy) to fly out to Indiana for a weekend.
It didn't start that way, but he eventually backpedaled enough to make me stop hyperventilating that another guy met me and wants to take me home with him.
The kicker is that last time I fell for it, that I really like the changes in my personal strength and fortitude that has come from it, and these two guys went to high school together.
What EXACTLY do they teach guys in the locker rooms these days???
Oh, and what kind of loner do you need to be to not hear from someone for a month and when they finally give in to "are you still alive?" and return your call you invite them to come to the other side of the country to be with you? Yes, he invited me to be with him, even offer the 'L' word to make it somehow easier for me to stop laughing out loud at the idea that I would jump in a Uhaul and bust ass to go there.
Oh, and when I said I didn't call for a myriad of reasons, one of which being that I need a career change and am having a crisis picking a direction, he mentioned having kids. Yes He Did!!! I threw that back at him too.
It could be worse I suppose... I mean its kinda sweet that he met me for dinner and wanted to figure out a way to get me to his domain immediately and it only took another two months for him to bring this idea up to me. That he has been thinking of me the whole time I haven't talked to him and pointedly blown him off (no, not that way) and mentioned I had some personal stuff to work out that included closure with another man and that my latest coping methods for stress are alcoholism, insomnia, depression, bitch fits, and talking myself out of bulimia and cocaine as resolutions for my sudden onset of feeling like a fatass. He called me nuts, then told me the flights are really cheap and there is a breeze to navigate.
And you know what? I'm considering it. I mean come on... when else am I gonna go to Indiana??!!?!?? And its not like I hate the guy (Curmudgeon, hear me now), its just that I was a bit disappointed that he was so nervous around me he couldn't deal with entertaining me. Oh, and he uses food for coping more than I do. Oh, and I don't see myself in a long term relationship of any kind with him. But what's a weekend trip to me these days? I liked the change of pace last time I was out of town for him... and this time I will have an itinerary of time tables to know what I am getting into! I don't know, I told him I have some shit to work out here but I'd let him know.
6 - Is it maybe the weather that is giving me headaches? I swear, my shoulders were WAY tense the other day, you all called that one... Laurie was dead on in saying the drink would cure it... the hot showers and concentrating on getting my ears away from my shoulders and the yoga last night had me all chakra aligned and energy flowing and oxygenated and stuff... and this morning I was GREAT!!!
Its now 3 hours past lunch where I was home with the pets and in my safe place with a homemade sandwich and a yogurt and big glass of water. I came back to the desk and had 2 Excedrin an hour later. Now I can't stop peeing because of the amount of water I've had, am a little hungry but convincing myself its the RAPIDLY BEING HOOVERED plate of cookies (still none for me!) behind me making my mouth water, and that there is NO WAY one drink a night with an occasional binge is making my head hurt by 3pm every day. Yes, MOT, I am going to Target this weekend and GoldenSeal is on the list.
Its gotta be the cubes man. I'm thinking of calling in sick tomorrow. I can still make my car payment with a short paycheck. That, or I'm gonna see if my boss comes back from her afternoon gym class and if she doesn't I'm not coming back from lunch.
7 - I love you guys. =) I mean it. I love hearing from you, hearing about you, having you add me to your blogrolls, getting your help with my sidebar or health, and knowing that there are people scattered across the US thinking of me helps me appreciate the little things these days. You've collectively pushed aside my grey clouds and helped me admire the grey stitching of my cube walls for what they are - a box I need to start thinking outside of!! Its been a pleasure meeting you, and I am immensely interested in keeping in touch with you even if I do get a job that doesn't allow me to write emails and read blogs ALL DAY. =) Thanks for the smiles and the love, you make me feel like this with every email notice:
I saw it on CuteOverload and it had this caption that I will not keep from you:
Sleeping here, my cheek on your chest,
no greater bliss
well, except pooping
8 - I have noticed a lot of blogs mentioning their excrement, flatulence, or the places these activities are regimented to in public... (I'd link them but they are older posts and I'm not that savvy to direct you Right There) coincidentally I have just become able to freely think about my own digestive habits. As I am trying to understand the natural cycle of many of my habits (i.e. spending, hording, eating, dressing in heels, gym tendencies, drunk dial/text/email/blogging/journaling tendencies), I seem to have become more aware of myself as a whole. It seems my intestines have a very particular way of letting me know if they like my current lifestyle or not. Lately, not so much love from the insides... then again I hear the transition from eating fat laden carbs at any given chance to water and lean protein and veggies all the time is bound to take its toll on the public restroom etiquette. I don't even care anymore - if I want to fart, I do; if the coffee has stimulated ALL of me and you walk in to the next stall, I won't wait for you to finish so I can finish; and if I've just finished twisting my body for almost two hours and I want to let one rip in the ally on the way to the car, I don't care if you smiled at me walking by, I won't warn you to walk only after the next breeze. Thanks for the precedence ya'll.
We've now come to the part of the day where I make a quick trip to the other side of the building for no reason but to check the desks of my coworkers and see if anyone is left to catch me leaving early. Enjoy yourselves...
I don't think we should have to put cotton around the edges of the cupboards to sleep past 7am, or that we have to get out of bed at 3am to tell them to shut up, or to think there is an emergency downstairs because they are having a conversation and have to scream about it... and this whole "I have my own food, but thanks" is great except it makes me feel like whatever we have to offer isn't good enough.
Personality quirks aside, its like they feed off each others most selfish habits and let each other have them so they can have their own! Its amazing that they don't feel the house shake under their power! And I just can't think of a nice way to say "I know you don't drink during the week and your going to tell me you don't pass judgement but I heard you 'oh' when I poured the vodka last night - I only did it so I MIGHT be able to handle being in the same house with you while we are both awake. It didn't work, I still wanted to stab sharpened pencils into my ears. Is there any possible way the volume and frequency of your voice could be turned down? Oh, and I hear you walking, you don't need to "hmmm" and "aahhhhh" while you move to be noticed. And no, I will not be manipulated into asking about your day, where you were last night, what your having for dinner, or who you were talking to on the phone. I will give you until the end of the weekend to stop walking into a room talking over me before I will throw little yellow FOUL flags and put you in the corner for 10 min for doing it. Is there really something in your head that makes you have to repeat everything you say immediately after you say it only louder, faster, and more sing-songy? Like, Come On."
Yeah, I'm having a hard time thinking of a nice way to say that.
I am now sure that she was the cause of my headache. Boss sucks, sure; Miss Menthol isn't helping; the gym workout may have exacerbated the symptoms... but when it comes down to it, my world was at a level of stress and then this little bitch moves in and ten days later I need two days of concentrated breathing, self shoulder massages, muscle relaxers, and a yogi to kinda feel a little less pounding in my skull??? She is the only X factor.
The only way I know its not just me bitching is easy!
We have a cat who lives in the kitchen. Whenever Talks McSqueeky comes in, Binky (the cat) gets under the chair and watches her... with her ears flat against her head.
The dogs won't hang with us if we are in the living room - I found them upstairs. This had NEVER happened before. To be downstairs means party time to these lab mixes... and they take stairs to NOT be with us???
Oh, and we've had people over who give us "you've GOT to be kidding" looks when they meet her.
And the roomie who gave her the go ahead to move in without so much as us UpStairs Girls knowing her name or move in date? Completely oblivious to the problem because they are mutated from the exact same strand of the demon spaun of inconsiderate bleached blonde twits who need guys to drool over them to feel worth while - the only difference is one will sleep with them and the other won't.
In other news - My Sidebar Is Fixed!! Miraculously, I stirred up the code in the Template and the preview nor going to the side lent any satisfactory solution... then I check my emails today and I get Congrats and Whatsamatta's ... and come on over and Its Back Where It Belongs!!
I'm so glad to not have this waiting to be fixed and PROMISE to check my picture sizes and linked-like-this-sentances before hiding all my links at the bottom of the screen again =)
There's more, but maybe later, my finger nails are starting to get long and if I beat them on the keys too long they break =( Plus, I have to go read your blogs!!