Caterwauling

“SLOW DANCING ON THE BOULEVARD

IN THE QUIET MOMENTS WHILE THE CITY’S STILL DARK

SLEEPWALKING THROUGH THE SUMMER RAIN

IN THE TIRED SPACES

YOU COULD HEAR HER NAME

WHEN SHE WAS WARM AND TENDER AND YOU

PULLED HER ARMS AROUND YOU

THERE WAS NOTHING BUT HER

LOVE AND AFFECTION SHE WAS

CRAZY FOR YOU NOW SHE’S

PART OF SOMETHING THAT YOU LOST

AND FOR ALL YOU KNOW

THIS COULD BE

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WHAT YOU NEED

AND WHAT YOU WANT TO BE

NIGHT SWIMMING IN HER DIAMOND DRESS

MAKING SMALL CIRCLES MOVE ACROSS THE SURFACE

STAND WATCHING FROM THE STEADY SHORE

LAYING WIDE OPEN AND WAITING FOR

SOMETHING WARM AND TENDER WHILE SHE’S

MOVING FURTHER FROM YOU

THERE WAS NOTHING THAT COULD

MAKE IT EASY ON YOU

EVERY STEP YOU TAKE REMINDS YOU

THAT SHE’S WALKING ON

EVERY WORD YOU NEVER SAID

ECHOES DOWN YOUR EMPTY HALLWAY

EVERYTHING THAT WAS YOUR WORLD

JUST CAME DOWN

IT JUST CAME DOWN

DAY BREAKING ON THE BOULEVARD

FEEL THE SUN WARMING UP

YOUR SECONDHAND HEART

LIGHT SWIMMING RIGHT ACROSS YOUR FACE

YOU THINK

MAYBE SOMEDAY

MAYBE SOMEDAY.”

— Matchbox Twenty, “The Difference” —

Having a 4 a.m. craving for Primanti Bros. sandwiches (or sammiches, as we called them in Pittsburgh). While the Steelers’ loss to the Titans in today’s football match prevents them from entering the Super Bowl, the world’s best sandwiches live on in the hearts of our friends in Tennessee. And to thank us, you’d have thought they would’ve been gracious enough to have forfeited the game to us, right?

Now when is somebody gonna serve me a sammich with fries and coleslaw here in D.C.? I’m in withdrawal!!! *shudder, snarl, shake, growl — craving Mancini bread. …*

Do yourself a favor — if you ever find yourself in Pittsburgh, go there first. And then go back the next day. Have a pastrami, a roast beef, a ragin’-cajun chicken, whatever floats your boat. Skip the cheesesteak, but get fries in a gravy boat. Trust me. You will worship me for doing yourself this favor. Pittsburghers either throw things between two slices of bread, deep fry it or drown it in gravy. You’ve never seen a friendlier city — because everyone’s stuffed and happy.

Link and nostalgia inspired by Tiff.

Stopped by the Veggie Patch yesterday for a moment — thought I’d wade through some e-mails in-between errands and meeting Shan for dinner. Noticed that IKEA Boy’s old office carpet had been professionally cleaned — it smelled and looked really good. I’d been quizzed repeatedly over the “mustard incident,” as they liked to call it. I was vague about it when they asked — all I’d done was put in a request for the cleaning crew to take extra care with cleaning, the evening that he resigned. I was also interrogated about a few other events — again, I was vague and said I wasn’t completely present when shit went down. And I chose to omit the cigarette incident — seems that the Town Crier took good enough notes on everything else that she saw/heard/imagined.

The “mustard incident” has been a source of great amusement among my friends. The phrase “Colonel Mustard” popped out of my mouth at an opportune moment, and I believe it was Tiff, a dedicated “Clue” fan, noted, “IKEA Boy, in the office, with the mustard.” lol. Yes, humor has definitely been one of the few threads holding my sanity in check this past week.

Unrelated, Shan and I realized that, despite the inhumane torture that was the Veggie Patch Holiday Fiesta, well, we were really the only ones who had fun. It was a boring bunch — after dinner, everyone just sat in their chairs and stared at each other. Granted, a small number of folks got up on the dance floor, but the rest — including the few managers who showed up — looked like they were miserable. We, on the other hand, giggled maniacally for the two painful hours that we were there — we know how to make the best out of a bad situation. That, and we just decided to enjoy each other’s company. And to laugh at Town Crier’s expense. 🙂 It was bad enough that we didn’t have dates that night, but shit, to spend our unpaid time with that group? Looking at Town Crier and Co. was just not our idea of fun, but once again, we got each other through it, something we will continue to do for a long time to come. …

“You show your pain

Like it really hurts

And I can’t even

Start to feel mine

And I’m standing in place

With my head first

And I shake, I shake, I shake

And I see your progress

Stretched out for miles

And miles

And you’re laughing out loud

At just the thought of

Being alive

And I was wondering

Could I just be you tonight?”

— Matchbox Twenty, “Could I Be You” —

When the Town Crier (formerly the Yellow-Haired Biatch) was walking out of the soiree last night (to presumably create trouble in the hallways), I said exceptionally impuslively and equally loudly — from my seat at my table inside the door — “Bye now! Don’t come back!”

Woops. 🙂

You know, there are many exes of mine (okay, three) whom I would love to resurface in my life in some way. Then there are the rest of them. And while sure, a good lay was had by all, well, is that really a reason to continue correspondence, especially when we’re 250 miles apart? Although he COULD eat a pussy like a juicy filet mignon. … (::smiles fondly in remembrance::)

To: The Goddess Dawn

From: 42 Boy (from the April/May 2002 era)

Subject: Trying EVERY way. …

Message: “Ok, ok, so I can’t take a hint. I miss you, and some other things!! ”

Funny, I’ve had this e-mail address since April, and not once have I received mail from him here. 🙂 I purged my AIM buddy list awhile ago (and took advantage of the blocking feature), and he was one of the casualties. Also, with the recent cell phone # change, I didn’t exactly notify the whole address book of my new number. No hard feelings at all, just no real point in continuing what was a sordid and short entanglement anyway.

It just pisses me off that the ones I WANT to hear from have similarly discarded ME. ::grumbles::

Granted, I should be at the Veggie Patch right now, searching for horse tranquilizers in unlocked offices, but no, I’m here in my jammies, drinking coffee, chainsmoking and throwing treats at my 20-pound puss.

The “Veggie’s Revenge” triple feature ended with a bang this morning. 😉 Hallelujah and holy shit.

The Status Quo

So very tired. Cat was jumping on my hip like it was a trampoline this morning. “Feed me!” vibes emanated from her hot little breath when she showed up in my face a few moments later. She does not understand that tired Mommies still can throttle bad little kitties in their sleep, but I chose the non-violent route of dragging self out of bed to feed the little brat. As soon as I opened my door, she darted to the bathroom sink for her morning drink from her personal waterfountain.

Shan surprised me yesterday with a trip to the nail salon for a full set of nails. While they just look too pretty for words, well, the little Asian butcher who did the manicure drew more blood than my doctor when I went for blood tests last year. I winced 12 times, teared up six times, and left there with her name and a promise to never see her again. Those Asian chicks are rough as shit on your hands. I have the overabundance of glue that she used in the cuts that she inflicted too. Christ.

But it was a lovely idea, and she even bought me a po’ boy sandwich meal at Popeye’s afterward too. That made the pain better. Of course, Popeye’s makes everything better. …

Had an intense meeting with Demure late in the workday. She came back essentially begging for the dummy layout, because as she put it, what Kumquat wants, Kumquat gets. (For those who are just tuning in, King Kumquat is the king of the Veggie Patch. I used to refer to him as Jackie Chan, but this fits much more compactly into the Veggie Patch Playset.)

*Now, back to my regularly scheduled ranting. …*

I was livid. I shut the door and I was like, look, I am all for picking up and doing all the work in the department, but if you’re gonna throw yet another project on my overloaded plate, it had better be a necessary and a reasonable one. I reminded her that yesterday was, in fact, one of three vacation days that I was not able to take, so I think it’s pretty wonderful of me to even have busted my ass for the past three days on necessary work.

She pursed her lips and did her weird deep-thinking lip movements and tried to reason with me. I said again, look, I’m not trying to be insubordinate, but rather, I am trying to have a closed-door venting session with my supervisor. I told her the three thousand things I have accomplished in three days, and I noted that most of those items involved eight e-mails and four phone calls each, so it’s not like I have my thumb up my ass, waiting for their guidance.

I’m too much for her. She was about to throttle me at that point. So, I calmed down and I said that I know everyone’s busy and worried that I’m not going to be able to pull this off, and that if I can just do the work that I can’t even get to, well, I promised to make things “all better.” But that they have got to make reasonable allowances and accommodations, because while I’m still a 9-to-5 employee at the Veggie Patch, well, the Veggie Patch Gazette is an enigma, an entirely different entity that simply cannot follow the established expectations of her other departments.

And then I said the magic words that got her *temporarily* off my back. I said that look, I can’t promise to do something that I know I can’t do. I can promise to save the paper, I can promise to be there till the end of the publication process. What I cannot promise is to do this fucking dummy layout when I just don’t have all the materials on-hand with which to produce such a cumbersome document. I said that, more realistically, if she can wait until deadline day passes, on Friday I will know what I have in-hand and therefore I will have a much more solid idea of how to give them what it is that they are looking for. I said, look, right now, I have a better chance of predicting the patterns of the moon than what’s going on Page One of the publication.

And I kept going. I said that I don’t want to promise her something in vain,only for her to promise it to Kumquat, and then when I fail to produce it, we all look bad for even saying sure, you’ll have it, Kumquat. She finally became human with me then and said that while she will still need this document ASAP, perhaps if I revisit it on Tuesday, I’ll be better able to predict (the patterns of the moon, essentially). Argh. But while I didn’t win this battle, I didn’t lose the war either.

Of course, Shan keeps reminding me that if I weren’t working at poverty level, I’d probably be much more inclined to crank out the damn document, just to quiet them.

Random offensive Dawn and Tiff IM conversation:

Tiff: Just what IS a Kumquat, anyway?

Dawn: A hairy little fruit.

Tiff: lol

Tiff: *pictures a kiwi in chaps*

Dawn: Little. Yellow. Different.

Tiff: LOL!

Kumquat brought Kiddie Kumquat to the Veggie Patch Holiday Fiesta last night. As soon as dinner was over, they were outta there. (*Note to self: Bring a child to next work function so I can leave early.*) Kid looks just like him. Scary.

For the record, Shan and I looked way too good to be at that party. So did a lot of people, which surprised me. People who have the Krispy Kreme (i.e. glazed) looks on their faces 40 hours a week can clean up surprisingly well. I saw ballgowns and jewelry and well-dressed spouses. I was floored. It’s amazing how many members of that bunch can be really attractive (not gorgeous, just pleasant on the eyes), once you wipe the dejected looks from their faces.

As for Shan and me, this is our last corporate party that we are not running or that we are forced to attend. We made a promise to each other and to ourselves. Just a few months more of digging shit out of our nostrils and washing our hands after wiping asses, and like we are saying now, this, too, will be a faded memory. …

Shan and I were delirious in our pain at the Veggie Patch Soiree tonight, and we decided that as part of an employee’s welcome package, they should get the Veggie Pak, a starter kit filled with your first bottles of Prozac, Zoloft and Xanax and a coupon for your first refills. …

Oh shit, time for “Veggie’s Revenge,” part deux. Shit.

1. Where are you right now?

In my apartment, recovering from the Veggie Patch Holiday Fiesta. My ass hurts. However, I am sitting on a nice cushion as I type at my lovely blueberry iMac. I like to think of the past few minutes as “Veggie’s Revenge.” 🙂

2. What time is it?

Nearly 1 a.m. Had both a pre-party and an after-party at Benny’s with Shan (i.e., preparing for, and then recovering from, the excruciating agony).

3. What are you wearing?

My all-purpose black surplice cocktail dress, from Old Navy — best $52 I ever spent. Wore it to the Xmas party at my last job too, although it seemed MUCH looser last year. …

The question is, what are YOU wearing?!?!

4. Any people or animals around you? Describe them.

I’ve got a big fat pussycat nuzzling my ankles. She hasn’t seen me since 8 a.m. Friday, so she’s a bit attention-deprived and demanding to have me rub her behind her pointy little ears.

5. What are your plans for the weekend?

Thanks to the wonderful grace of hell, I will be working for a substantial portion of it on a ridiculous project for my superiors as well as trying to get on track with the two jobs that I now hold for the lower salary. Fuck. However, I am also having dinner with a friend tomorrow night and brunch with more friends on Sunday, so I am very much pleased to have those items to which I can look forward.

My hero. ~hearts and flowers~

“Take a deep breath…. It will all be okay. Remember, stress isn’t cracked

up to what it is supposed to be. My motto is to GIVE stress, not get it!”

“Happy Friday (or how I like to refer to it ‘down a bottle of red wine and

pizza night’)!”

“Keep (me) in the loop for a business. We’ll all be rich (and happy). …”