I just cleaned out the litter station (20 pounds of poop, I kid you not!) and was in the bathroom drying my hair when Kadi (aka Short Bus Cat) went into her box and decided to have diarrhea. The problem? She missed the litterbox entirely, so there’s a good two pounds of runny, slimy shit on my rug. So I must clean it immediately. But first. …
Must. Kill. Cat. Now. …
I haven’t answered the questions in awhile, and while this week still ain’t worth it, well, I’m just tryin’ to kill time before I scrub my butt and head over to the insane asylum Veggie Patch.
1. What vehicle do you drive?
Pontiac Sunfire, 2002, indigo, coupe.
2. How long have you had it?
Two years on Oct. 12. My dealer told me I will go down in history as the first person to buy a car without knowing how to drive — I had to have my mom take two buses with me to get to the dealership so she could drive it home. 🙂
And now she drives the same damn car, only hers is a 2004 and has that XML satellite radio. I’m so jealous! 🙂
3. What is the coolest feature on your vehicle?
I’m all about the sunroof, but I think what I liked most when I bought the car was 1. the color, and 2., the way, when I brake (which is a rarity), the word Pontiac lights up just above my license plate. Gas mileage is pretty good, too. And that it’s tiny and fits into any parking space. And that because it’s small, it’s easier to cut people off when I’m feelin’ the need for speed.
4. What is the most annoying thing about your vehicle?
That people keep slamming their doors into mine. Motherfuckers.
Also, when I’m listening to a CD and it goes back to song one, it jumps past the first two minutes of the song. And the ignition doesn’t always start on the first try. And that I smoke too much, so the inside windows are always in need of cleaning.
5. If money were no object, what vehicle would you be driving right now?
I’m hardly a car elitist. I bought the one I wanted. But I might want a Mustang or a Mitsubishi in my next life — I’ll probably always have a sports car.
On second thought, I want some big-ass Hummer or something so that I can retaliate against all those assholes in huge vehicles who tailgate me at night and shine their headlights into my car. That bugs the shit outta me. Big cars try to bully my little Samantha Jones and attempt to make her scared for her life because she’s so small. Bastards.
OK, I probably stepped into some type of parallel universe, but after the last month of frustration (sexual and otherwise), I’m feeling strangely giddy. I find myself laughing out loud for no apparent reason, and I find myself smiling over funny conversations I’ve had with my buddies lately. Dare I say it, but for all my kvetching, am I actually happy?
… You know it’s time to do laundry.
Damn it.
All my cute scandalous guchies (that I try to save for special occasions that just never seem to happen anymore!) are irritating the fuck out of my appendix scar. I suppose that means I need to make time to do laundry sometime in the near future. That, and get the damn apartment into some type of shape for my housewarming.
Shawn asked if I’m really ready to have a party, what with being laid up for a few weeks and still not being remotely unpacked. Also, he really wants to paint my apartment, but time is tight for him this month and it won’t happen by Nov. 1.
So I have a solution: Have an apartment-warming party with the house clean but not brilliantly decorated … and THEN have a New Year’s Eve party when it’s lookin’ all spectacular!!!
Yes, I’m a party queen. Who’s up for TWO occasions to drink among friends?!?!
There is something that’s trying to roll around in my head, but I’m not entertaining it. At least, not right now. But it still keeps pervading my consciousness. It’s not the worst thought I’ve ever had, by any means. In fact, it’s a rather interesting item of bemusement.
Until, of course, I truly go with the thought and do something about it.
I wonder if I’m sometimes afraid of taking chances because I wouldn’t know happiness if I fell over it.
After yesterday’s childish brouhaha, I was treated to my computer blowing up. Yes, as in *poof* — goodbye data. Two and a half hours later with the Disk Doctor, and I’m running fairly well, although slowly. And after THAT, it took three hours to print the proof of the paper. I almost took the fucking disk to Kinko’s, that’s how frustrated I was.
But, as always, we had the usual suspects together in my office, laughing and bullshitting while the computer and printer decided to go berserk, and so it was a bearable — if not, dare I say, enjoyable — afternoon.
Today, I’m in hiding in my office. I have major edits to do, and I’m not in the least bit of a mood to deal with anyone other than my staff writer.
Talked with Shan last night. She graciously made contact with someone at the Veggie Patch who had requested her help on a few issues. The conversation didn’t sound too pleasant, but Shan remains unruffled. After she heard about MY day, we just kind of collectively shook our heads and said how typical our experiences with our colleagues was. But she was, like me, disappointed that the CFO went so apeshit on me — he was our hero around here. Oh well. Time to get some new heroes. 🙂
I didn’t sleep a wink last night — my mind was racing. Shawn and Tiff both recommend that I just let the chips fall where they may, and they’re right. The big companies that we owe money to, well, they’ll survive without our money arriving on time, and if they choose to no longer do business with us, that’s the breaks. I’m sure they’ll be patient, because of the great relationships I’ve cultivated with them, but they won’t keep doing me personal favors. But it’s the freelancers who are not getting paid who concern me. It’s the people who are depending on their meager checks to pay their rent and feed their kids and buy smokey treats (heh — you know who you are!) for whom I am fighting.
I made it known today that all the bullshit has broken my heart. I articulated that I can’t believe how easily we forget that we are all on the same team. That ripping e-mail from the CFO — which basically said that I need to quit insinuating that his staff makes mistakes, because he can certainly mention a tally of mistakes that have been made in my department — really did a number on my morale. I said once again that I came back (early, mind you) from my recovery because I cared about the paper, and it’s just a shame that so few others give a shit about it or the people who make it possible.
It’s funny — at my former job (Two Strikes), I was striken with anxiety because EVERYTHING was a priority. I was always running, always jumping, always juggling a thousand things at once, because NOTHING was to be put on the back burner. Here at the Veggie Patch, it seems like everything is on hold — everything will happen in due time. Granted, at least in the fiscal arena, it’s because there’s only so much money, and it’s not enough to cover expenses by a long shot. But overall, it just feels like NOTHING is a priority. Will I EVER find a place to work where there is a balance? Where my spirits won’t be stuck to the bottom of somebody’s shoes at the end of the workday?
For all my promises to not complain about work anymore, I am revoking that promise this morning to just say
WHAT
THE
FUCK?!?!
Long story short, I spent Friday raising hell about a change in payment procedures that will directly (and negatively) impact my department. I clearly maintained that I’m hardly an opponent of change; however, I don’t wish to damage long-standing relationships with my vendors and writers, who are becoming increasingly frustrated with the lag time between the time services are rendered and the time they are compensated (a separate issue, but I needed to blow some steam off). I said I was “less than thrilled” with the new procedure, because I ask the printer for enough favors as it is and do not want to put them in the position of having to tell me that they can’t print the paper because they haven’t received the money.
The problem is that I am no longer permitted to hand-deliver checks to my vendors and writers — which you would think they would like because I save them the fucking postage. At least when I have the checks in-hand, we all know that the paper can be printed, and if I don’t have the money in-hand, I know to go up to Accounting and fight for it. Now I am going to have to start calling and begging to know the status of my checks, and if they’re not received, I’m going to be getting even more vendor calls than I already do. Joy. And this isn’t the friendliest bunch of people to deal with (the Accounting staff), so I would like to avoid them when possible.
That’s my whole problem with the Accounting department — I know money is tight, but they aren’t the most cooperative bunch when it comes to letting us know if/when checks are cut/mailed. All I want to know is that my people and vendors are getting paid, because if they’re not, they have every right to go on strike until we catch up with their invoices. And it has been suggested too many times by too many people for me to not bring it to the McManagement’s attention.
I have to say that I am impressed with my boss. She took my side immediately and strategized with me how to get my money on/before the date it needs to be at the printer. (Read: If Accounting needs to mail the checks, then they’re going to have to cut my checks a week earlier than planned, so as to accommodate putting them in the mail and having them arrive at the print shop, the post office and the address-quality company before I transmit the paper.) She’s a devious one, I’ll tell ya, but I’m glad I’m the one benefiting from it!!! 🙂
The “less than thrilled” phrase came back to bite me in the ass, in the form of a terse e-mail from the CFO, copied to tons of people, including H.R. (excuse me, but is this a performance issue? As far as I (and my boss) could tell, I brought up a valid concern about my department. Not to mention, but I run a tight ship and am always under budget — it’s not like I am requesting money to go on a shopping spree — I’m asking them to pay people for services that have already been provided, for cripes’ sake. *scream*
OK, time to get the blood pressure down a little bit.
So much for “taking it easy” during my recovery.
Shan (our dear new mommy) wants to open a daycare. I hope she gets the small-business loan that she’s seeking — I will be glad to defect and help her with the administrative side of it (lord knows I won’t want to be the one watching the kiddies!). Shan is back on her kick that I need to have a kid, but Shawn said that I need to wait another five or six years till I’m ready, ’cause I sho’ ain’t mommy material now! 🙂
But back to Accounting, one staffer wrote me an e-mail that said — and I quote — “Do too the new procedures. …” Imagine how much I wanted to copyedit that note and send it back!!!
Ah, weekend.
Spent Friday night with Shawn at Apex in Dupont Circle, where we went out scoping cute boys.
It was my first post-op adventure out, and I wasn’t much up for dancing because, well, it didn’t feel all that good. So I kind of hid in a corner and danced a little bit there. One good-looking guy came up and hugged me and said, “You’re just too fabulous to be dancing in a corner!” I love him. 🙂 Too bad he liked penis more than I do!
Another hot boy ordered a drink for me (which was nice, because I kept gettin’ screwed and getting watered-down drinks ’cause I’m a chick — Shawn at least was getting nice, strong drinks), and my drink was thankfully strong. Hallelujah — it shouldn’t have taken eight drinks to get me buzzin’! But without that last drink, I’d’a still been sober.
Last night brought an unexpected invitation from Shan to come visit her and the adorable baby Alex, who is up to a whopping 8.2 pounds these days. I took over a huge pile of gifts that I’ve had sitting here (double-bagged so as not to attract cat hair) for the munchkin. The gift pile included a cute inflatable bathtub, which held all the gifts, but I just lost the ability to blow before it became fully inflated, so it was a sad little duck that had to carry loads of baby items. 🙂
I hate it when I lose energy while I’m blowing. 😉 Any tips you can suggest?!?!
Shan calls Alex “Fussy Bunny,” because she (understandably) fusses a lot. The kid goes to five doctor’s appointments a week, is attached to a monitor, has acid reflux and is continually monitored for cardio-pulmonary and neurological issues. Like Shan always says to her, “It ain’t easy bein’ a princess! You eat and poop and fuss and smile!”
Lord, that kid is cute. What’s funny, though, is for all her fussing, Shan put her in my arms, and she didn’t make a peep for more than an hour. You just have to be sure to hold her upright, to accommodate the acid reflux, which I did. In fact, I asked Shan if Alex were just being good for company, and she said oh hell no — the little one had seen her paternal grandparents earlier that day, and she’d howled for most of the visit.
We figure, Alex heard my voice nonstop for the seven months she spent baking. I joked that she was always under the table when Shan and I went out, listening and remembering my voice, because she responded to me really well, and even when she was in Shan’s arms, she knew I was there and seemed very cool with it. 🙂
I kept making fun of Alex because, while she was in her slumber, she was moving her mouth like she was sucking on a bottle. I kept asking her if she were dreaming of bottles, and Shan got the biggest kick out of that. What do kids dream about? Do they realize that they are being pampered and doted upon by every adult within earshot? I mean, shit, she’s got the John Lennon crib by Carter’s, which plays songs and has a nightlight and, best of all, vibrates? My god, where can I get a bed like that?!?!
I reluctantly left the girls after Alex was fed and started to get a little bit sleepy (she only sleeps for a few minutes at a time, so I figured I’d let Shan enjoy the rare moment of peace. That, of course, and I didn’t want to wear out my welcome — I definitely want to come back, and seeing how good Alex was with me, I might just earn some munchkin-watching privileges so her mommy can get some rest. 🙂
I went over to Shawn’s for a belated birthday party for our dear buddy Bryan, who turned 26 on Sept. 12. I’d dropped off a happy birthday cookie from Mrs. Field’s earlier that day, and they wanted me there to cut the cookie. Everyone seemed like they’d enjoyed quite a few drinks before I got there, but when I arrived, Shawn served the champagne. He remarked that he and I always have weird combinations of “champagne and. …” On my birthday, he took me to Dave & Buster’s, where we had “Champagne and Skee Ball.” Last night, it was “Champagne and Cookie.” Lord only knows what our next combination will be, but I look forward to finding out!
It was a good night, albeit a short one. But it was a rare treat for me to see nearly everyone I love in the area, whether at Shan’s or at Shawn’s, and on another rare occasion, I felt glad to be me. 🙂
My new catchphrase is sweeping the office today — I’m all about vocabulary and shit this fine Friday.
When I enter the tropical oasis that is (not) our ladies’ room, I nuke it with air freshener as soon as I walk in, so that I may breathe (somewhat) freely throughout my journey. It usually stinks like cat piss in there, and it is not uncommon to find brown trout swimming about the three available bowls on any given day. And as a special treat, in addition to piss droplets adorning the seats, we occasionally get the person who missed the bowl and seat entirely and who shat straight down the side of the throne. Because, you know, it’s so hard to aim your little asshole into that big bowl hole. 😉
Do you have a phobia? Spiders, snakes, heights, closed-in spaces, oh my!
Today, I learned about apocolocynposis — the fear of turning into a pumpkin.
Yes, there is a word for everything. 🙂