Caterwauling

Y’know, if it weren’t a holiday weekend, I would sincerely pick up an Uzi and clean the workplace out. Thanks to the saving grace of tomorrow being a federal holiday, there is hope indeed for my sanity. This place makes me want to eat carbs. Or kill myself. Whichever weapon is handier. 😉

Two hours with Demure today, total. Yes, when I came back from the doctor, she plopped in my office for an hour, with more of King Kumquat’s unrealistic expectations. And I said look, I tried what he wants, but he didn’t respond to that either. He assured her that this time, he’ll respond. Yeah, whatever. He also wants the paper to be done a week in advance. Um, sure. Demure and I had this convo a week ago, at which time I told her to tell him to sit and spin. I said it’s not impossible, but it’s going to take a few months to make the evolution. So he told her he wants it a week early next month, and she promised it. I told her I refuse to kill myself like that, especially when I told her that it will be a process, not an immediate change. Further, I told her that if I have to bust my balls to meet his deadlines, the least he can do is to not hand in his shit to me five or six days after my submission deadline — that he has cultivated such an environment of apathy and turn-it-in-whenever-you-feel-like-it among himself and his staff and associates that nobody feels that they have to adhere to anything you tell them.

Oh, and here’s the latest: if I haven’t received Kumquat’s corrections to the paper, I have to delay its publication until I get those corrections and input them. I made it very clear that it’s not like we get delayed by a day — the publishing house can’t book runs in fewer than seven days from the day that you ask. Kumquat and Demure are OK with this — just as long as he gets his stupid 10 suggestions bowed down to. Fuck around.

Oh god, I can’t take it anymore. I’m ready to croak. I am sincerely walking out at 2 p.m. today and I’ll come in during the weekend, but I’ve GOT to get away from Demure.

In better news, Shan and I gave our friend RC a big box full of food and a grocery store gift certificate. RC burst into tears and hugged us tightly. She was grateful not only for our little gesture (we wanted her to have some snacks and food for her first weekend in her new place), but for the fact that she’s never experienced the benefits of friendship like that — that nobody has ever done anything like that for her.

We were surprised at her reaction — pleasantly, of course — but Shan and I lean on each other all the time, so much so that we’ve become accustomed to, whenever we need a helping hand, it’s always there. We look at it like we’re keeping each other afloat — to the point of taking turns with the ventilator and the I.V. tube — just to ensure that the other one will make it for awhile. And now RC is part of our circle … so, all in all, what started out to be a box full of pantry items turned out to be two friends throwing a life preserver to a new friend and helping her to have a good start to her weekend (after a truly shit-fuck week). RC and I will be neighbors come Aug. 1, and she’s already called to ask me if she can help me to plan Shan’s surprise baby shower, so I guess it’s true that karma always comes around to lend a hand when you’re going to be the one in need. 😉

All my best to all of you this holiday weekend. Here’s to hoping the poison of work courses out of your veins and that you can share some special time with the people you love and/or dote a little bit on the most important person in your life — YOU. 🙂

I had an unpleasant optometric experience today. Seems my contacts came in five weeks ago, only nobody bothered to call me. So I strolled in today, and before I could take them out of the building, I had to attend “Contact Lens Class.”

The short version: I left the contacts there and ran screaming to the car. The long version: I fought for an hour, getting those bastards in my eyes, only to not be able to get them out. My corneas ache, the whites of my eyes are red and my tear ducts are in overdrive. The good news is that my irises are this amazing emerald shade today, thanks to the tears and pain. The bad news is that I have a tension headache and will have to continue wearing my glasses for a long time to come.

I was already miserable from an hour-long, unnecessary meeting with Demure, which I walked out of so I could make my appointment time. I still don’t know what she does for a living, other than interrogate her two staff members. I really don’t. Perhaps half of my eye pain comes from rolling my eyes every five seconds. 🙂

I’ve opted to post some photos of myself on this page. It never fails to amaze me that, in four different photos, I look like four different people. I may whittle it down to only one shot — if you have a favorite, leave me a comment, and I will gladly remove the rest in due time. 😉 And if you don’t like any of them, come over and take some photos of me yourself! lol

And I’m messing around with the template, so pardon my appearance while I reconstruct the sidebar.

Went to see a sneak preview of “Terminator 3” with the boys last night — Shawn, Dave, Paul and Bryan. Although it was Dave’s idea to go, he was the only one who hated it. The rest of us loved the pic for both its silliness and its adventures. ‘Twas a fabulous way to spend a Tuesday evening. Oh, and did I mention how hot “John Connor” is? *drool*

And as far as I am concerned, how could I possibly have a bad time when I am surrounded by four sexy men? I love adorning a hot male harem as my accessory of choice … that, my friends, is the way life is supposed to be. 😉 I need to do it a lil more often!

Thanks for pimping me out!!! Any takers?

Those of you wandering over here from Bill’s site, he referred to the “Bad sex or no sex?” entry. Damn permalinks. 😉

Two things to kick off my day:

1. Cruise Director of Club Medicated left me a ripping VM during the weekend. He turned in his corrections to the paper on Friday morning, when the paper had gone to bed Thursday night (as it always does and always has for the entire duration of his employment here). I’d informed him that while I appreciated his time, his corrections didn’t make it in because it was past the deadline, so moving forward, I will start placing a “need by” date on the proofs. So his return VM to me said, “My corrections obviously mean absolutely nothing (to you).” He went on to say he needs more than 24 hours to do a proof (um, this was the first month I was able to give him a proof on a Tuesday morning, to turn in Thursday). I am not overly concerned — my review sucked when I was supposedly doing a great job. He’s the worst offender with turning things in five days past the deadline, so maybe this will send a message that everybody’s deadlines really do impact each other.

2. Town Crier’s mother died. And while I would also be devastated if my own mother were gone, I have not one sympathetic bone in my body for Town Crier. Can she ever realize that she has burned and pissed off so many people that the whole group of us can’t collectively come up with an ounce of compassion to throw her way? I’m continuing my pattern of avoiding her, and I’m also breaking my tradition of always buying a sympathy card for a grieving colleague. I would hate to be as bitter and nasty as her — Personally, it would devastate me that, even in my time of need, my colleagues harbored so much pent-up hatred toward me that they couldn’t offer me a simple, “I’m sorry about your loss.” It’s very difficult to care about such an uncaring person, and it saddens me that I am as cold-hearted toward her as she is toward everyone.

Is it Friday yet?

Guys, I was so traumatized by my performance review that I forgot to share some highlights:

1. The reviewer wore white pants with a little brown stain in a very bad place.

2. The reviewer noted that she caught me trying to hide from her in the library (it was 8 p.m. and I was cranky and headed to Shan’s desk; the reviewer was just leaving Shan’s desk). I didn’t feel like dealing with her (it’s called overkill), so I hid in the stacks. She caught me and it made it to my evaluation.

3. It’s really hard to take a reviewer’s critiques seriously after you’ve noticed what I mentioned in Item Number Two No. 1.

This situation gets a 1 — Needs an Improvement Plan. No shit. 🙂

Shawn and I were having a discussion about the whole myth that “sex is like pizza,” and we concluded that, in fact, you can have bad pizza and bad sex and they can both leave you gagging.

Last night’s “Sex and the City” showed some anti-climactic (ahem) scenes between Carrie and Berger. Oh, the agony. The thing is, first-time sex with someone is, by definition, supposed to be bad. I think, anyway. I mean, there’s a person from my past whom I couldn’t wait to strip naked and tie to the bed. But like with Carrie and Berger, it was quiet and well, just strange. I mean, you start off in this mood where you want to rip their zippers with your teeth, but when you finally DO start dancing the horizontal mambo, it’s like something in your brain stops you and says, “Whoa. This is really happening!” And that’s when we deflate and it seems to become an effort — whether to impress the person, or to just come already. Girls are lucky in that we can fake it, just to get it overwith, but guys can’t. And maybe they’re too tired, too drunk, too emotional to complete the act. So they get frustrated and may even drop off the planet, so as not to face you again.

Perhaps, like Carrie wondered, we should all be drunk when we take a tumble through the sheets. Most of the best sex of my life was had when there were a few pitchers and some shots involved. I was stone sober during the worst moments. Maybe it’s not that I like sex as much as I think I do, but rather, it’s the drunken sex. The sex when you’re not as concerned about the other party noticing your flaws — the sex when you moan as loudly as you want to, when you’re not thinking about whether or not one of you will walk or run out when it’s done.

At any rate, Carrie and Berger did hit the jackpot on the third try, and good for them. But it left me wondering whether guys, on average, come back and try, try again … or if they just figure that the magic’s not there and they go find somebody else. I commend Berger for figuring out that it was just performance anxiety on both of their parts.

I found myself feeling incredibly horny today. Seriously, today is one of those straddle-anything-that-moves days. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a lively piece of plastic, but still — it was something. 🙂 Something about this heat brings out the sex-starved, raving lunatic in me. A part of me just wants to go out to a club and find something with a heartbeat, just to amuse me.

That’s something that has changed about my life in the past year (well, six months). I became accustomed to going to bars and randomly playing tongue twister with someone. I’d barely get a first name out of them, but I’d just kind of be attached at the lip with them until it was time to go home. I called it safe sex — no contraceptives necessary. I even had a person or two with whom I could do that regularly, with no strings attached. Ah, I’m missing my youth today. …

“Alex & Emma” was fabulous. I loved every minute of it.

Broke down and bought the new memory card for my camera. I’m glad I did it, even though we all know I’m going to find the lost one now that I’ve taken the card out of the package. 🙂

I realized that the place where guys can meet chicks is at the movie theatre during any Sunday afternoon. Goodness gracious, there were single women crawling the place! Some came in pairs, but the majority of us were silenly sipping our Diet Cokes (no ice, thanks) and enjoying our small butters with extra popcorn. 🙂 I saw some guys sitting on the benches outside of the restrooms, and I realized that if they weren’t waiting for women, they could have had their choice of about 100 women on the top floor of the AMC alone!

Granted, I was probably the only one who thought to apply cosmetics and wear something other than sweat shorts and a T-Shirt, but hey, if you’re looking for a natural girl, there’s your day to find her. And for those of us who do put together an outfit for a date with ourselves, you see who really gives a shit about her appearance, even if no one is looking.

< / public service announcement >

I ordered my ticket online so that I would have to make it to the show on time. It was kind of neat, actually, to schedule this much-needed time with myself. That I actually made a reservation showed that I took the date seriously … I didn’t do my usual, “Oh, screw it. Things to do and people to see. No time for me.” Oh hell no. Maybe this is what I need to do with my writing — to block out X amount of time on whatever the days and bar any unnecessary distractions. And although this weekend was one where I was continuously on-call for work, I still managed to give myself some TLC and undivided attention. That’s why I get my nails done every two weeks, too — not just because I like having pretty-looking hands so I can show off my abundance of jewelry, but because it’s two hours out of the month where I am being absolutely pampered. I can’t answer the phone, I can’t run out the door to solve a crisis. I have to sit and be attended to. When you look at it that way, it’s a wonder that “self time” isn’t mandatory for more women. 🙂

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for “Sex and the City” and a warm foot bath!

I am in a great mood. I really am. It took awhile for it to happen, but a good hair day, coupled with a cute outfit day and a splash of my Ralph Lauren’s Romance perfume, can work wonders for a girl’s soul. My digital camera is working again, and I took some self-portraits for my personal ads.

We put some photos on Shawn’s website. I’m hosting them over here, so as long as my site is up, his photos are available. I s’pose I was inspired to put more of my own photos up — maybe that certain special someone is out there reading my site and wants to see a current photo of me. 🙂 Yeah, I’m dreaming, but right now, dreams are all I have, and they provide a great escape while I’m sitting around playing with myself, waiting for The Next One to slither into my life. LOL. I’m going to go out and buy a new memory card, seeing as I lost my good one. Damn it. I’m sure I’ll find it when I move.

My boss said I’m looking happier lately. She figured it was the excitement of finishing the paper (which crept into my night last night with a 7 p.m. call from the print shop. Gaah! I can’t escape!) as well as my impending move. I guess she was right on both counts — another paper down, the prospect of hiring someone to help me come Aug. 1, the prospect of using the salary we’re not paying that person to finance three extra freelance articles (Scott, are you listening?), and the joy of having a change of scenery are doing wonders for my ability to smile.

Oh, and Michelle Branch’s new album is pretty good. I can’t get past Song #2, “Are You Happy Now?” but I assume the rest of it will be good ear candy for me this summer as well.

On that note, I’ve gotta run if I’m going to make it to the movie I want to see this afternoon. Later gators!