Caterwauling

I came home tonight to find a door hanger placed there by the apartment company, telling me that maintenance had entered the premises. They of course did not list WHY these yin-yangs came in and scared my cats. All I can figure is that they went on the balcony (they didn’t put the window bar back where it belonged) and left my deadbolt unlocked when they left. God damn them … I take care of my place and would like to come back to all my belongings here and not stolen by someone who could’ve gotten in to either door. Fuckers.

I’m embroiled in battle at the Veggie Patch with a “leader” who wants to take over the newspaper. Insert that bitch on wheels is already a column editor and couldn’t write a declarative sentence properly even if it could save the ozone layer. She is trying to organize/found an editorial board that would oversee our activities, from hiring practices to content to whatever the hell else she wants to control.

Let’s just say that, after eight epic e-mails from me, and I’ve heard not word one from either of my superiors. Eight. I am so against this woman’s politics and personal political agendas that I would rather hand in my resignation than report to her EVER.

I need to buy some memory for my Mac at home (so I can work there more often and escape the assholitry that eats up my workdays). Any suggestions on which brands to buy and what kind of cost it will be? (I need a shitload of memory — I’m gonna bite the bullet and buy Panther).

Remember the crazy sexual harasser at the Payless in Springfield Mall? I finally got an acknowledgment from their corporate HQ:

“Thank you for your message, and making us aware of your experience with our store. I apologize for the behavior that you have described. I will forward your comments to the Operations Executive for this store for follow up.

Angie, Customer Service Department.”

Thank me for my time? Whatevah. I was expecting maybe more questions, maybe even some propaganda that harassing customers is against store policy, and the offending employee will be appropriately disciplined. Or maybe, hell, they should’ve asked me for my address so they could send me a nice gift card for my trouble. 😉

Quotes of the day:

“I am not publishing that idiot’s submissions until Satan becomes editor of The Pearly Gate Times.” — me, talking about some incoherent twit who keeps sending me crappy reader viewpoints and keeps asking when I’m going to publish them.

“I’m not setting a good example for you, are I?” me again, telling Angie what a poor excuse for a supervisor I can be sometimes. And clearly, I need to not be teaching her my grammar, either. 😉

I always enjoy the Superbowl halftime shows (actually, just the commercials), so I was sad to be in Silver Spring, Md., when Justin Timberlake exposed Janet Jackson’s breast during “Rock Your Body.”

Because CBS execs are in an uproar over this crazy stunt during what it thinks is a family show (um, no — the show was appropriately tailored to its horny hetero male target audience), everyone’s issuing apologies that the act was unintentional and unrehearsed. Yeah, sure. ‘Cause, you know, Janet just HAPPENED to have a silvery, sunburst-shaped pastie on her nipple. ‘Cause, you know, I’m wearing one right now ’cause those aren’t itchy or uncomfortable or anything. HAH!

In any event, I’m hurtin’ today from Shawn’s grand move to Maryland last night (although I am MOST grateful that he sold a lot of his furniture prior to this odyssey!). We left a two-floor house and dragged everything to a third-floor apartment. Problem with the third floor is that it’s at the top of five flights of stairs. I’m already a wimp and can’t carry much because I’m just not altogether that physically strong, but trying to drag this ass (and Aunt Flow, who showed up just to attend the move) up all those stairs was just morally wrong. But the new place is way cute, and I hope Shawn and the boys will be happy there (Kirby seemed OK, but Jynx was giving himself a heart attack from yipping and freaking out over the adventure).

I had more doggie adventures than I care to recount, but what the hell — while I’m here, I’ll share. 🙂 Kirby rode to Maryland in my car, and he was very good, lying in the backseat and not whimpering much. But then he got the bright idea that I might drive better with his head in my armpit. He attemped to crawl into the front seat a few times, but luckily, I had Bryan with me to shove him back where he belonged. I have a Garfield doll clinging to the window (shut up, it’s Valentine’s Day-themed), and Kirby was licking its ass for part of the ride. (Sidenote: Kirby likes poop. He eats poop all the time. He sniffs Jynx’s ass and waits for poop to come out. So he has an ass fetish.)

The other doggie adventure came when I REALLY needed to use the bathroom at the new place. Jynx had been creating such a ruckus that someone had shoved him and his cage in the small bathroom, and I literally had to wedge myself in between him and the toilet. I later told Shawn that his dog got a firsthand account of how to insert a tampon correctly, and Shawn shuddered and chastised me for scaring his puppy.

The night ended on a dramatic note (it always does, but the source of the drama always rotates), but I was at least home to catch the end of “Sex and the City” to see Charlotte’s bleeding dog. Ugh. That reminds me that I’ve got to get Kadi spayed soon so she doesn’t start adding blood to her already nasty shitty skid marks on my beige carpet. *twitch*

The State of the Union Address, as given by the Soda Jerks.

… is the United States Postal Service!

I went to my P.O. Box yesterday, and in it was a birthday card from my mom. Look, I know she has no idea how old I am (29, but she’s been telling people I’m 30 for the past five years), but being that my birthday was back in, oh, MAY, I was confused. The postmark read Jan. 14.

So I called Mom today to ask her what the hell that was all about, and she said she sent it in May … and that there was CASH in it. She had forgotten all about it, although I do remember her asking way back then if I’d received her card.

In any event, when I opened the envelope, there was NO cash to be found — someone had steamed open the envelope, re-sealed it and put it in my box. The NERVE of those motherfuckers!!!

I remember chastising her for sending money through the mail (she’d told me back then that she had sent me some cash for my birthday so I could pay my phone bill, which was out of control). I cannot fucking BELIEVE the postal service is so shady.

I have had problems with them before. Years ago, I had sent a long letter to a friend, pouring my heart out about some very sensitive subjects. Months later, I received the envelope that contained said letter, but it came with a note that the envelope was damaged and that there was nothing in it. Um, I don’t THINK so. I used to decorate my envelopes with stickers and little made-up song lyrics and personal jokes, and I think someone got curious and wanted to see what else I had to say.

And they WONDER why we have all reverted to e-mail!!! Yeah, keep raising the cost of stamps, motherfuckers. I hope the Internet puts your fucked-up monopoly out of business within the next decade.

ARLINGTON/FALLS CHURCH/ALEXANDRIA VA

… WIND CHILL ADVISORY IN EFFECT UNTIL 11 AM SATURDAY…

IT’S FUCKING COLD! GET IN YOUR GODDAMNED WARM HOUSES AND STAY OFF THE ICY ROADS AND QUIT CAUSING ACCIDENTS, MOTHERFUCKERS!

MAKE SURE THAT ALL EXPOSED SKIN IS COVERED … UNLESS YOU’RE HOT AND IN DAWN’S BED. THERE, YOU ARE ENCOURAGED TO WEAR AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE.

You have just won one million dollars:

1. Who do you call first?

Mom. Of course, she’s like me and never picks up the phone, so the technical answer is “Mom’s answering machine.”

2. What is the first thing you buy for yourself?

Can you buy peace of mind? Failing that, I’m getting the best Powerbook under the sun, complete with Quark, Photoshop and any other pricey program I covet. Then I’m going to take my current computer into the shop and have it upgraded. Then I’m going to clean out my Amazon Wish List — only I’m gonna add a LOT more to it! (Like a Plasma TV.)

3. What is the first thing you buy for someone else?

Easy — my mom and grandfather have never lived in a house they owned, so I’d make that happen. Only thing is, I’d bring them down here with me and not leave them in Pittsburgh. I miss them!

4. Do you give any away? If yes, to whom?

Um, after the IRS takes its hefty chunk, I’ll need some tax write-offs. I’ve already worked for three screwed-up non-profits (securing donations for two of them), so I’ll pass on those. I’d probably send a few bucks to NARAL or Planned Parenthood, cancer research, mental health/illness research and maybe corporate Easter Seals (and not the affiliate I worked for!).

5. Do you invest any? If so, how?

I suppose so. But I don’t know nothin’ about saving money, so this question is lost on me.

Quote of the Day:

“I’m the only person in the world who tried to cook Tuna Helper then burned my foot and still forgot to put the tuna in.” — Shan, who burned herself (again!) making lunch.

Site of the Day:

Regular readers will get this. Viva Pussy Demure!