F*ck THAT Noise

Goddamn Facebook changed their privacy settings and now I'm all naked in the freakin breeze. My cult-member first cousin found me and sent me a message asking me how I am and where I live and do I go to my brother's shows. You know, I don't hate the man, but I do fear him.

How about "With all due respect to you and your 'religion' - and go to it, God bless - I would prefer not to communicate with someone who was raised to believe that my mother is the primary cause of evil and suffering in the world today. I appreciate that you're trying to reach out to family - 'blood is thicker than water'...blah blah blah. Please don't send your people to slash my freakin tires, or kill my dog"?

First they came and gave me a crapload of work...

And I said nothing, because I thought I deserved it.
Then they robbed me of my social life, and I said nothing, because I thought I could handle it.
Then they sucked away my soul, and I said nothing, because I had such a sad one to begin with.
Then they took away my drinking buddies, and I TOTALLY LOST MY SHIT. OMFG.

These people don't deserve me. They deserve someone who loves her work, who is devoted to them, who has her shit together. I am just barely hanging on here. I do care, deeply, for the ones I work for, but I am coming to deeply resent those people. Everyone is working at 90 miles per hour there now, and I can't keep up. I am failing miserably, and I hate myself.

So here I go again tomorrow. FSM help me.

Update

As bad as I thought yesterday was, it was soooo much worse today. OMG. Now apparently some a-hole in Saudi Arabia has it out for me because I can't cater to his every whim. I don't even know what this guy looks like, but I hate him - because of my preconceived notions of his cultural attitudes toward women, and the fact that, as it seems most high-powered, high-paid folks can be - he is completely oblivious to the idea that some things are out of my control, i.e. in the hands of OTHER evil sexist heartless douchebags who have no desire to assist the hard-working, eager-to-please peons like yours truly.

Hey, A-hole, do YOU want to call the Saudi Embassy and tell them their website is ridiculous and that they can suck it? Yeah, I didn't think so.

I spoke to Sparkle for the first time in almost a week. She's been really busy with her mother, who's apparently monumentally worse than the last time we saw her...at least, as far as my denial was concerned. She took her mother to Texas, which is where they would go when she was a little girl, every year, for Thanksgiving, to see family. It seems that her mother didn't know who anyone was, and has even forgotten who SHE is. Sylvia didn't know who I was the last time I saw her, but I didn't freak out or anything, but then she's not MY mother. I can't imagine having to deal with that. In fact, I try not to think about that very real possibility. I complain about not being able to handle my bullshit little life, and I don't even have to handle the hard shit. I'm so sorry, Mama. I'm so so sorry.

Ok. I get it. I take FULL responsibility for being a douchebag.

Y'all may have known this for some time, and I suppose I have as well, but I'm coming clean about it now. I'm a douchebag. No excuses. I just am. I hate my fucking job right now. It's an utter misery. I'm working for 3 of the busiest people in the office, plus I'm liaising with building management, plus I'm dealing with this new accounting system, plus apparently I have to deal with the goddamn office drama which I did not instigate (WTF?). But, you know, I'm gainfully employed. I'm single, with no kids. I have no one to worry about but myself. I live in the richest country in the world, and I still have my feet (unbound) and my sexual organs intact. I have shoes on said feet, and shampoo and conditioner in the shower, and cable tv and the internets. And yet, I'm soooo fucking miserable, I have no words. I spoke to my supervisor and basically told him I'm at the end of my rope. I can handle no more, and I'm really worried. He told me it was going to be ok, and to relax and have a shot of whiskey. YES HE DID. As far as I'm concerned, that's permission to drink at work. I only wish they would let me smoke at my desk, too.

Mad Man or Messiah

Every time Mad Men is on, I notice the commercials in-between much more than I usually do while I watch tv...when I fast forward or pause so they'll shut the fuck up. Did you ever notice how much louder they are than the regular programming? Anyway, the constant discussion during the course of the show how to hook the consumer is so interesting...with the all of the carefully crafted words, lilts and pauses - the overt attempts at manipulation about how a car or a new pair of underwear can change your life. Ha. I guess if you believe it will then it will. I noticed especially this week all of the car commercials and Viagra commercials - are they marketing to the audience they HAVE or the audience they WANT?

Sometimes I'd Rather Just Take My Chances with the Lotto

We had some layoffs about a month ago, and a bunch of my friends went 'buh-bye'. One of them had the same position as I do, at work. We'll call her "Mon". So Mon was let go, and after the initial shock subsided, all I could think was, "Please please please don't let me have to work for her boss". I like the man - he's really fun, and really interesting, but he made me cry. Whenever I had to fill in for her at work, because she was on vacation, or she left early, he gave me these ridiculous tasks like trying to transcribe his hieroglyphics in negative time (i.e. 20 minutes ago) or spinning binders into gold. He's like a real-life version of Jack Donaghe. We'll call him "Jack".

So, of course, I now work for Jack - "support" Jack. I told my supervisor to please make it clear to him that he's not the only one I work for, but I'd be willing to take him on - after much hesitation. Well, it turns out he's great. He likes to talk a LOT - likes to listen to himself talk, A LOT, but he's way cool.

I work for two other folks: one man and one woman, both of whom travel constantly - in and out of the country. I deal mostly with travel itineraries, visas and licenses, expenses, meetings and meeting requests, clean-up and set-up - your basic monkey-type tasks.

These highly-paid folks I work for are not just experienced. I've come to learn that they value themselves...GREATLY. And this is a huge reason they are highly paid. Daniel - the other guy I work for, is funny and nice, and I've never had a problem with him, but he LOOOOVES himself. Like - mock-turtle-neck-loves himself, but in my experience, not at the expense of others. So while it might otherwise, I don't let it bother me.

Talking with Mon the other day, I mentioned that Daniel recently gave me an additional ridiculous mundane task - update his resume - his 12 PAGE RESUME (NO, REALLY), in MS Word. So Daniel sends me new things, about 4 or 5 times a week, via email, to add. I have a folder in Outlook for all of them.

So Mon asks me, "He didn't, by chance, give this to you just after you took on Jack, did he?"

"Oh...my God. Are you saying he PEED on me?"

"Well..."

"Oh, fuck. That's DISGUSTING. UGH."

Yeah. I don't like being marked as territory. Tonight is the 252 million dollar jackpot for the MegaMillions Lotto. Wish me luck.

A Man Named Joe Levine

It took me a really really long time to get home tonight. I had a flat tire yesterday, filled it with air, woke up this morning without my AAA card, waited for them to come and change it before I went to work, and then got lost on my way home in the dark, doing my best to avoid freeways. I'm almost out of gas now, and exhausted, relieved, and all jacked up on Mountain Dew at the same time.

Feeling oddly philosophical right now. On my way home from work I listened (or more correctly: heard) a radio show on NPR and its discussion on the health care crisis. It must have permeated my subconscious because I was so panicked and focused on trying to find my way home, but I got to hear lots of fun things about people finding out they had cancer or who were born with autoimmune diseases that cause every joint to dislocate and now they can't pay their medicals bills because insurance wouldn't cover them. I then heard a show about organ trafficking - the people who buy organs, and the ones who sell/donate them. Somehow I don't think it's greed that motivates the donors. Correct me if I'm wrong. I have decided that we, as a human race, do not deserve to survive, if we don't want to take care of each other, and it appears we don't.

I was feeling snarky today and, when the much-better-paid higher-up who sits next to me tried to appeal to my sense of empathy in the war of the sexes, I basically bit his head off. I was working with a pout on my face (pretty typical, frankly) and he asked me if something was "up" and I said, mockingly, "Yes, but if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," - the reply he was expecting, but which I have never uttered in any seriousness in my life. He then began telling a story of some women on the train in front of him who were speaking rather "rudely" about men, and how if men had been doing that it would have been "P.I" (politically incorrect?). Um, since when? I have been in many a room where women have been ogled and poked and prodded and verbally ripped to pieces based on their appearance, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I just told him I had no sympathy for his sadness over the supposed double standard. When he again tried, I said, "You're right. I'm sorry. It must be incredibly difficult to be a white heterosexual male in the richest country in the world." This is why I shouldn't be around people.

Sparkle doesn't understand my impatience with people. It's doubtful she has any idea how little I can stand MYSELF, either. Who knew someone so extroverted could give birth to such a creature? It's ok, I guess. Slim was born with enough self love for the both of us.

Pet Peeves

Ayayay. I'm only doing this so you'll stop hounding me to update my blog. I really have little to say. Maybe more caffeine would do the trick. I've picked a theme, and it's only so I have something to write about.

Pet Peeves. I'm reaching here, but they're coming to me. Here they are, not in any particular order.

- PT. Present Time. I stole this from L. Ron Hubbard who doubtless stole this from someone or something else. As any good thief would do, as well, I bastardized it and altered its meaning. PT is the point at which your Tivo/DVR's recording is live, as in "I fast-forwarded through all the commercials and now we're in PT" - thus forcing one to watch all upcoming commercials and ridiculous/stupid/pointless commentary by Kara DioGuardi.

- Comic Sans Font. (PLEASE keep in mind that pet peeves are, by definition, ridiculous) It drives me insane when people use this font, which is FAR too often. It's like the font that tries too hard. "Look at me! I'm silly and I like to tell old jokes that people who don't read still think are funny." If you ever want to be left out of my Will, use this font in an email or on your website. Really.

- "all of the sudden..." You would not BELIEVE how many times I have come across this in text as well as spoken. For f*ck's sake, people, READ A BOOK.

- People who quote themselves. I don't mean when they say "so I says to her, 'What are you doin' after?' ". I mean people who list, among quotes that inspire, something they themselves said. OMFG. Seriously. And if you're gonna do it but only put your own initials, we can still tell.

- Long-winded- and/or repetitiveness. This, often times, though not always, can be confused with ageism. How many times do you have to call to ask the same question 8 different ways? Oh...8, I guess. Also, please don't write a 10 page email, or leave a 10 minute voicemail message. Make me laugh/make me cry/inspire me/enrage/enrapture/illuminate me in 20 words or less and we are good to go.

Ok, that's 5. Good enough? If I think of more, I'll let you know.

Stupid Raisins

We have a materials library at work, and the librarian always has reps who come in and bring treats with them. Today it was cookies. I went to get a cookie all sly-like, and I saw one piece that was upside down. It looked like it was chocolate chip, and then even up-close it looked like choc chip w/nuts. I was SUPER excited. Then I bit into it. OATMEAL RAISIN! DAMMIT. You know…actually, I don’t even see any oatmeal in here. It’s like someone deliberately put raisins in a regular cookie to mess with people. Fucker.

Really? Buca? Again?

Birthday Season will soon be upon me, and when it arrives, I will be barraged with invitations to overpriced, fatty dinners and expected to provide gifts I can't afford and drinks I should not enjoy. Call me an a-hole, but I am totally over the 20-person dinner where we each pay extra to cover the birthday boy/girl, and pay an additional $10 to cover the Piña Colada that douchenozzle brother-in-law-of-the-birthday-boy had. What jerkfaced American came up with this tradition? They don't do this in Europe, you know -- and Europeans are SMARTER than us. Each person has her/his OWN birthday dinner and s/he pays for it his/herSELF. So you don't end up paying upwards of $700 per year on various birthday outings--birthday outings, I might add, that take place in or around venues you would never EVER visit of your own accord, like Ed Debevics or Buca DiBeppo or FUCKING HOOTERS (REALLY? HOOTERS? YES, REALLY). You also find yourself subsequently weighing the value of your friendship with the value of your time (two hours waiting, despite the fact that you made a reservation, plus 2 hours for dinner, and then maybe another hour standing in line somewhere) and money (remember douchenozzle?--oh, and then there's parking, and cover) and wondering if the friendship could withstand your flaking on the party the following year. "You know, I really don't even KNOW him very well anymore. And how many times did he call so we could hang out this whole year? Like twice? He doesn't even make an effort. I can't believe I spent all that money on a Best Buy gift card so he could buy a stupid video game. What a dick."

I will never again do the no-host dinner thing. I like my friends too much.

Oceans

I'm home on a Saturday night after plans shit the bed...can plans do that? I don't know. I learned the expression from someone from New England. Anyway...home eating my favorite disgusting fast food nastiness...Del Taco. Mmmm, mmmm, nasty. I love it.
Oceans 13 is ending. Damn what an awful movie. I don't know what I was expecting, really, after what I consider to be arguably the best remake (11 of course) ever. It would've been near-impossible to live up to my expectations after that. Seeing Bernie Mac again made me sad. I keep forgetting that he's died. I did that a lot with my friend Judy, who had the cancer. I quote her all the time now. "You are so FUNNY Judy!" She didn't regularly refer to herself in the third person...she was a comedienne, who once did the best routine about how she got into the cult. YOU know. It was 15 years ago...DAMN I'm old...and we had it on video tape. We must have watched it like a thousand times. The tape also has Bob Odenkirk doing the oddest, funniest routine I think I've ever seen him perform, and Julia Sweeney when she was first writing all of her "And God Said Ha" stuff-- if you ask me MUCH more earnest and clever than the way it ended up in her show all put together. We had like 8 copies of that tape, and Sparkle lent them all out to different people, and now there are none. It makes me sad, but I have hope that we'll find one-- just one-- again, in time to convert it to dvd and show everyone how great Judy, and Julia, and Bob were circa 1994.

Quickie

I'm supposed to go to Sparkle's house and walk with Edie, but I'm tired and I SOOOOOO don't want to. I drank a Diet Red Bull earlier, when I started scrubbing the tub, but I'm not getting the up-and-at-'em results I'd hoped for. Instead I have the snarky bitchy bitterness that I used to get about 45 minutes after I drank Frappucinos from the bottle. I'm paranoid and ridiculous, but I'm trying to be good and not do or say anything I regret. Notice, I didn't say "not say anything I don't mean". I usually mean what I say, I just didn't intend to say it. Even in the heat of a battle. I don't think very highly of my own criticism, and therefore don't feel the need to be obnoxious about it...at least...not ALL the time. While those of you who read this might think I'm pretty much an open book, you have NO IDEA how much I bite my lip. Sad, huh?

Went back to Whale Watchers today, during lunch. There's one meeting downtown that meets 3 times a week in this weird empty retail space. Oy. I thought I was really making an effort this last week, keeping track and exercising, but I don't think I lost any weight between the time I weighed myself at home last week and when I weighed in today. Bummer.

So before I go, I've been considering joining some sort of Mennonite community. I wouldn't have to worry about the size of my ass, or having a designer purse, or being coy, or getting my kid a PS3 and a cell phone and an IPod. Life is simpler there. Hard work is good. Plus they have fried chicken. And full-fat butter. Heaven, right? The only hesitation I'd have are the beards--yeah, not turned on by the beards...and the whole God thing. Yeah...not so much. I mean that's fine and good, but I think God is a personal thing. I don't think it should be compulsory.