I haven't forgotten the blog.
I haven't been avoiding the blog.
I haven't been avoiding commenting on your blogs.
Its just such a pain to have 12 hours of work to do in an 8 hour day EVERY DAY.
I am writing you now from the middle of one of these such days to let you know that Wednesday of this week until after the holiday next week, my part time backup will be on vacation.
Since the topic of getting me a replacement phone answerer for the week was smacked down harder than the cat from the leftover tri tip, I'm guessing this week will include a lot of overtime and not too much social time.
However, I will brag that the weather in my neighborhood was delightful this weekend and I was able to get some housework done. This included lounging about until Aunt Flo was done forcing me to eat Oreos and drink beer and pop pills, dipping into the pool at dusk just for a better view of the twilight stars, and cleaning my room to the point of rearranging furniture to get the job done right. So, while my ass is firmly planted in front of a computer from 7:30am-6pm all week, I MIGHT be able to pull out the milk crate with a pillow topper in front of my new computer setup and let forth the spew of blogworthy happenings in the last MONTH since I've gotten to the site!!
The quick overview (because its 10 minutes until lunch, and lets face it, I won't get any work done in that time anyway):
--Dad gave me a wad of cash for having a phone conversation with him, I dreaded the bad karma that is always attached to his money, I deposit it the same day my sister calls saying one of her credit card companies will 1/2 her debt if she pays it off by July 1st, and I gladly transfer dads money to her account to take advantage of the deal. I figure they don't call it 'money laundering' for nothing, and maybe the karma will wash off in the transfer and won't stick through the slow dribble as it gets back to me.
--The sister roomies are in Vegas this week. This means that I get to worry about dogs puking and peeing in the house while I'm gone for 12 hours or more a day (haven't decided if I'll be going to the gym this week - running around the backyard like a freak with the dogs and rearranging furniture and closet space sounds WAY more fun!!).
--I'm getting props at work. While the kudos are nice, I know how much work I have to do and how I'm not getting it done and its driving me NUTS that I have to switch hats/roles so many times a day but apparently the trick is to keep a smile on and always be ready to say "I'll get right on that" and they think I'm a goddess. They are also familiar enough to me now, and the work is repetative enough to have learned it well enough, that Miss Sassy is getting some play again - they haven't decided if they like her yet or not, but the meek worker in the corner is now piping up and getting the respect she deserves. Miss Sassy likes the Managerial hat!!!! Matches the come-fuck-me-in-my-corporate-suit heels I wear everyday.
--My Mojo is coming around. I partook in a wedding a few weeks back and the single, barely older brother of the bride walked me out and spent about 30 minutes working his game before I let him know he could ask for my number any time now because the cruise was going to depart with me onboard and I wouldn't mind hiding out in his room but I'm sure his roomie would object to us having all the fun. Since I was the one with the cell on me, I got his home number. He lives 500 miles away, but getting concentrated flirts from a 28 year old who didn't have to wear a helmet was certainly a great reason to take a paid day off!!!
Oh, and the wedding was beautiful and I got to see basically all of my girlfriends from my hometown and get them all dolled up for pictures =)
Its lunch time, but there you have the last three and a half weeks of highlights that come to mind as I frantically minimize the screen whenever I hear someone walk by... OH... just kidding, I have one more thing... I heard through the grapevine that New Girl is no longer working in my old office and my old manager has to train ANOTHER someone to fill the receptionist position!!! I feel AWFUL for that office always having to train someone, but the whispered "come back!" was laughed at heartily that I would give up this great carreer opportunity just to hang with the gang and have an easy job again =) I'm getting the swing here, I am gaining TONS of experience, and am proud to announce what I do for a living and I'm supposed to be tempted by returning to being a triple layered subordinant just to have more people to chat up at the water cooler?? While the familiarity is tempting, I realized this weekend (when I found an old journal and the very telling entries) that going back for what the hindsight goggles have convinced you is a dream situation just ISN'T WORTH IT.
Yeah, I guess thats all I got for this minute.
Happy Monday Ya'll, leave a comment so I know all 52 of you who are still checking in got the updates, alright!?? =)=)
Monday, June 26, 2006
Friday, June 02, 2006
Cresent Moon
I was told by a friend that maybe it was the cresent moon that could be blamed for all the rediculousness abounding.
Whatever it is, it feels a lot like the cosmic jokes are adding a bit of satire or cynicism or prankster to the normal repetua (or however the fuck you spell that word).
Case in point:
1) I have a timeline for how my week, day, and hour should go for the new job. When I walk in I have certain things to get done. Every week certain things need to get done with varying priority (read:they can be moved and postponed when higher profile/more pressing issues come around). Every morning and every lunch time I make a list of things to get done.
To have the same things roll over PISSES.ME.OFF. This is the same part of the brain that threw a fit when I had to leave stuff in my inbox. I have created a folder of stuff that needs attention ASAP and I have stuff in there from yesterday.
The joke: I am having absolutely no spaz response to the stress, workload, emergencies, building stack of pressing matters, or the fact that some of the stuff I wanted to get done Tuesday is still waiting for the high priority stuff to get done.
On the one hand I am freaking out that I'm not freaking out.
On the other - I found a sushi place around the corner that BBQs their beef in onions and mushrooms and leaves the teriaki for the chicken. YUM. And if I so desire for a dinner to go box, they can add a Sapporo to the order. YEAH!!!
2) After the WTF with the roomie in the bathroom this week (did I tell ya'll about that?? "how many peoples shit do I have to scrub from my toilet now?" falling out of my mouth 14 seconds after waking up?? I forgot - anyway, I FREAKED about my territory being taken over by one of the DownStairs Girls and TRIED MY DAMNEDEST not to beat someone with freshly applied mascara), I have Squeeky all up in my How Can You Think This Is A Way To Function nerve center.
I come home to find both sides of the sink full and both sides of the counter taking over the overflow. Stuff with milk rotting in the bottom. A greasy pan that was left to soak now has grease covered silverware and plates and cup bottoms to leave its slimy mark on. Glasses under three full sized plates. UNREAL to me.
Then I see that the dishwasher has the CLEAN magnet on it. OK. They are using the magnets. After 4 months, we can read the sign before acting. But HELLO!!!!! We can't use the sink!!!! Whoever runs the machine should understand they can empty it by now.
I open the door to find the top shelf with 8 of the possible 20 spots filled. The bottom has 3 big peices and 4 plates. Apparently someone just didn't want to put soap on the rag when they rinsed and ran the energy sucking, water wasting, heat producing, noisy fuckin lazy mans pretentious machine when they cooked.
So, in my gym clothes, mostly dry from sweat by now, and leaving my shoes on for the productivity of it all, I clean the kitchen. It takes me THREE MINUTES to unload the dishwasher, INCLUDING rearranging the shelves to make these few items fit. Somehow matching nesting bowls is WAY too fucking complicated for these folks and each bowl needs to be sitting in its own place in our tiny overstuffed cupboards.
I am thinking the entire time that I will put my hand on something I used, but HELL NO. I am putting away a stack of dishes I didn't use.
If we didn't just, two weeks ago, have the "well if everyone does their own dishes, there won't be a problem" talk...
B R E A T H I N G. I resolve that I will not get icked out and turn the water to scalding and start rinsing the crap off the sides of the stuff in the sink to load the dishwasher.
Thats right. I could have put soap on the rag and washed them as I put them in... but I was struck again with the fucking HILARIOUS joke that I am doing dishes for a house I haven't been in enough to dirty even a fork in - TWO WEEKS after we agreed that this BULLSHIT shouldn't be happening to anyone.
I get the diswasher loaded.
I am scrubbing the grease and lettuce and smears of I don't know what off the inside of the sink when I hear Squeeky's door open. She squeezes her bony ass between me and the cupboard fora a glass. She walks to the other side of me, ALL up in my space, and reaches her glass over my arm. She, in a finally normal speaking voice, says "I'm just gonna grab a glass of water here."
I stand perfectly still, look at her hand in amazed disbelief, and mutter "its kinda hot."
She proceeds to lean in further to up the chilled side and down the hot side and eeks out "sorry, this is totally in the way of like the cleaning you are doing ::snorty sigh:: sorry, I'm just gonna, yeah, ok, almost done here. OK, and I'll put the hot water back on for you here, OK, I'm done."
Two examples of the FEROCIOUS temper that may or may not be working itself into my daily grind. I can't get a DAMNED thing done all day, and come home to complete ANYTHING, no matter how much I hate it on principle (THIS is how much I can't stand a filthy kitchen people!!!), I can't even get THAT done without being interupted by RETARDEDNESS!!!
Its TAP WATER you fucking inconsiderate selfish single track minded freak!! Use the bathroom if someone is cleaning your mess for you and the 37 seconds it might take for them to finish is TOO MUCH for your parched saggn flatttttttt ass!!!!!
Laurie at Beauty and the Beer said she was missing some of her Shank Tuesday Mojo.
I am thinking, if this Cresent Moon/Should only be Aunt Flo to make this much of a bitch out of me/Cosmic Jokester turning Punk Ass on me/where the fuck is this heat wave coming from if I was fogged in at work for the last 3 hours BULLSHIT of a shitty attitude keeps up, she can consult me for material ;)
To put it sucsinctly: I am in such a weird funky out of touch cranky surreal shell of reality mood lately that I flat out turned down a booty call this week.
Logically I am creating standards for myself.
Realistically I was sure I'd be disappointed and didn't think it was worth changing a razor blade for.
TGIF folks... If I had more than 8 more hours of this crap thrown my way before I could duck from in it a drunken haze, well, I might start phasing the bar up the street into my weekly schedule. I'm just say'n.
Whatever it is, it feels a lot like the cosmic jokes are adding a bit of satire or cynicism or prankster to the normal repetua (or however the fuck you spell that word).
Case in point:
1) I have a timeline for how my week, day, and hour should go for the new job. When I walk in I have certain things to get done. Every week certain things need to get done with varying priority (read:they can be moved and postponed when higher profile/more pressing issues come around). Every morning and every lunch time I make a list of things to get done.
To have the same things roll over PISSES.ME.OFF. This is the same part of the brain that threw a fit when I had to leave stuff in my inbox. I have created a folder of stuff that needs attention ASAP and I have stuff in there from yesterday.
The joke: I am having absolutely no spaz response to the stress, workload, emergencies, building stack of pressing matters, or the fact that some of the stuff I wanted to get done Tuesday is still waiting for the high priority stuff to get done.
On the one hand I am freaking out that I'm not freaking out.
On the other - I found a sushi place around the corner that BBQs their beef in onions and mushrooms and leaves the teriaki for the chicken. YUM. And if I so desire for a dinner to go box, they can add a Sapporo to the order. YEAH!!!
2) After the WTF with the roomie in the bathroom this week (did I tell ya'll about that?? "how many peoples shit do I have to scrub from my toilet now?" falling out of my mouth 14 seconds after waking up?? I forgot - anyway, I FREAKED about my territory being taken over by one of the DownStairs Girls and TRIED MY DAMNEDEST not to beat someone with freshly applied mascara), I have Squeeky all up in my How Can You Think This Is A Way To Function nerve center.
I come home to find both sides of the sink full and both sides of the counter taking over the overflow. Stuff with milk rotting in the bottom. A greasy pan that was left to soak now has grease covered silverware and plates and cup bottoms to leave its slimy mark on. Glasses under three full sized plates. UNREAL to me.
Then I see that the dishwasher has the CLEAN magnet on it. OK. They are using the magnets. After 4 months, we can read the sign before acting. But HELLO!!!!! We can't use the sink!!!! Whoever runs the machine should understand they can empty it by now.
I open the door to find the top shelf with 8 of the possible 20 spots filled. The bottom has 3 big peices and 4 plates. Apparently someone just didn't want to put soap on the rag when they rinsed and ran the energy sucking, water wasting, heat producing, noisy fuckin lazy mans pretentious machine when they cooked.
So, in my gym clothes, mostly dry from sweat by now, and leaving my shoes on for the productivity of it all, I clean the kitchen. It takes me THREE MINUTES to unload the dishwasher, INCLUDING rearranging the shelves to make these few items fit. Somehow matching nesting bowls is WAY too fucking complicated for these folks and each bowl needs to be sitting in its own place in our tiny overstuffed cupboards.
I am thinking the entire time that I will put my hand on something I used, but HELL NO. I am putting away a stack of dishes I didn't use.
If we didn't just, two weeks ago, have the "well if everyone does their own dishes, there won't be a problem" talk...
B R E A T H I N G. I resolve that I will not get icked out and turn the water to scalding and start rinsing the crap off the sides of the stuff in the sink to load the dishwasher.
Thats right. I could have put soap on the rag and washed them as I put them in... but I was struck again with the fucking HILARIOUS joke that I am doing dishes for a house I haven't been in enough to dirty even a fork in - TWO WEEKS after we agreed that this BULLSHIT shouldn't be happening to anyone.
I get the diswasher loaded.
I am scrubbing the grease and lettuce and smears of I don't know what off the inside of the sink when I hear Squeeky's door open. She squeezes her bony ass between me and the cupboard fora a glass. She walks to the other side of me, ALL up in my space, and reaches her glass over my arm. She, in a finally normal speaking voice, says "I'm just gonna grab a glass of water here."
I stand perfectly still, look at her hand in amazed disbelief, and mutter "its kinda hot."
She proceeds to lean in further to up the chilled side and down the hot side and eeks out "sorry, this is totally in the way of like the cleaning you are doing ::snorty sigh:: sorry, I'm just gonna, yeah, ok, almost done here. OK, and I'll put the hot water back on for you here, OK, I'm done."
Two examples of the FEROCIOUS temper that may or may not be working itself into my daily grind. I can't get a DAMNED thing done all day, and come home to complete ANYTHING, no matter how much I hate it on principle (THIS is how much I can't stand a filthy kitchen people!!!), I can't even get THAT done without being interupted by RETARDEDNESS!!!
Its TAP WATER you fucking inconsiderate selfish single track minded freak!! Use the bathroom if someone is cleaning your mess for you and the 37 seconds it might take for them to finish is TOO MUCH for your parched saggn flatttttttt ass!!!!!
Laurie at Beauty and the Beer said she was missing some of her Shank Tuesday Mojo.
I am thinking, if this Cresent Moon/Should only be Aunt Flo to make this much of a bitch out of me/Cosmic Jokester turning Punk Ass on me/where the fuck is this heat wave coming from if I was fogged in at work for the last 3 hours BULLSHIT of a shitty attitude keeps up, she can consult me for material ;)
To put it sucsinctly: I am in such a weird funky out of touch cranky surreal shell of reality mood lately that I flat out turned down a booty call this week.
Logically I am creating standards for myself.
Realistically I was sure I'd be disappointed and didn't think it was worth changing a razor blade for.
TGIF folks... If I had more than 8 more hours of this crap thrown my way before I could duck from in it a drunken haze, well, I might start phasing the bar up the street into my weekly schedule. I'm just say'n.
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