Caterwauling

Because I’m about three days behind in my e-mails and other online activities, I’m rather impressed with myself that I got this up within the same week it was posted. 🙂

1. What does it say in the signature line of your e-mails?

At work, the usual hoopla about who I am, where I am and the website to visit if people happen to want to know more about my newspaper. At home, I do a simple signature with my name and e-mail address, because all these mail forward programs strip out the original e-mail addy. I used to be cutesy and put quotes in the signature, but Pride Fag trumps it with 17 quotes and all 9 of his academic degrees, and I realized how pretentious it is that a quote (or acronyms after your name) that means something to you could ever do anything but waste the reader’s time.

2. Did you have a senior quote in your high school yearbook? What was it? If you haven’t graduated yet, what would you like your quote to be?

Eeek! Don’t ask me to pull out that book!!! It’s been collecting dust since 1992. I don’t remember contributing a quote, but if I’d had the opportunity, it would have said, “Fuck all of you — I will never see any of you again, and I will be more successful than all of you put together. Watch for my name in lights!”

Of course, I do remember voting on a class quote by Langston Hughes — “Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” And our class song was “Wind of Change” by the Scorpions (all my metal-head friends and I made sure that was chosen!).

3. If you had vanity plates on your car, what would they read? If you already have them, what do they say?

Bah. I keep trying to get vanity plates, but every combination of letters and numbers that I’ve come up with are already taken. I wanted to do something simple like “writer” or “goddess” or something that would make people realize how fabulous I am. 😉 Failing that, I want a plate big enough to say, “Back the fuck up, motherfucker!” or “Hit me and live, and I will kill you with my bare hands.” Or some other vitriol related to highway rage.

Down here in NoVa, the capital of the vanity plates, I’ve seen some really creative ones. There’s the “IH8-495” (they hate the Beltway — who doesn’t?) and of course its counterpart, “IH8-395”). I saw a Maryland plate with “2ndHOME” and it made me laugh. I want to do something along those lines, if I can think of something that hasn’t been claimed.

4. Have you received any gifts with messages engraved upon them? What did the inscription say?

I think my grandparents might’ve gotten me an engraved bracelet some time ago. Or not. The memory fails me. So I guess not.

But every time Shan buys me a book, she inscribes a message inside the front cover. Most of the books have to do with writing or starting a business, and she always throws in some encouraging words that make me feel empowered.

5. What would you like your epitaph to be?

You know, I always loved “Spoon River Anthology” and what really surprises me is that, 15 years after I read it, the epitaph of “Lucinda Matlock” sprung to mind:

“At ninety-six, I had lived enough, that is all

And passed to sweet repose

What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,

Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?

Degenerate sons and daughters,

Life is too strong for you —

It takes life to love Life.”

I want to send loads of love to some really good pals out there for making my day (week, month, etc.).

I dragged my butt into work today to find a King Cake from Tricia and a copy of “Quirkyalone” from Erica.

Thanks so much, ladies! *hugs Tricia, licks Erica* You’re the BEST!!!

*yawn* *stretch* *shriek*

Ahh, much better now, although the neighbors must think I am having sex or something. And yes, I’ve been known to moan and shriek when it’s only sex for one, too. Lord knows I haven’t always had a reason to moan with pleasure when there is actually another person in the room!

But back to the here and now (or, the here and none) I was up till 2 a.m. doing edits. Just woke up, only to find that I have acquired another cold. Bah. Fucking sub-zero wind chill factors. I want to keel over and quit breathing, I feel so wretched, although Mother Nature has done her part to ensure breathing is difficult today. And I was hoping the watery eyes were a result of taking a break to watch an amazing episode of “ER” last night (“NICU” — reminded me of Alex’s early days/weeks. I didn’t realize that I was even crying until I went to fiddle with my necklace and realized my shirt was sopping wet). But, alas, the evil cold has planted itself in my being. Fucker.

I still have about five more editorial items to do before the paper can be laid out, but they’re gonna have to wait for me to drag my butt into the shower and then cover said butt with about four million layers of clothes.

I can’t wait for the weekend so I can catch up on the life I thought I left lying around here somewhere. …

Let’s see, editorial deadline was two days ago, and I am still getting in submissions. Two people at least had the courtesy to call me and ask me about a possible extension (i.e., they could turn in a crap piece on time, or I could wait a day and get their version of editorial gold). I always choose the latter, because their gold wouldn’t buy a dime-store hooker a gumball.

I got a late submission today, and of course it came after me repeatedly hunting these people down and finally telling them that I won’t accept a word over 1,600 because of their lateness. OK, this led them to A) Crawl out of hiding, B) Promise me an article and C) Assure me that 1,600 words was perfect and I would receive it post-haste.

Four hours later, I get the document. What’s the word count, O Great Editorial Goddess, you ask? 2,750. D’Oh! Was their, oh, “Word Count” feature not working properly?

Not to mention, it sucks. Blows. Hurts my ass worse than butt floss. I’m in editorial hell, I tell you. Hell.

I worked from 9 a.m. till midnight last night (with breaks, of course), editing pure shit. And today was no different. Sure, I did read some redeeming submissions, but my eyes are tired and my hands hurt from rewriting sentences and moving paragraphs.

In better news, I had great (work-related) phone conversations during the last two days. I really do love my people, even when I want to beat the shit out of them. 🙂 But some of these people are doing the work as volunteers (read: unpaid), so it is arguable that I get what I pay for.

Bah.

We have a furlough day tomorrow (read: I’ll be here till midnight again tonight) and a holiday on Monday. The printer graciously gave me a one-day extension, given this fact, but I ain’t tellin’ nobody that — I am going to ask my proofers to just work really fast so next week can be a little less painful than this one.

In any event, thanks to everyone who took Tricia’s survey (for her thesis)! If you haven’t done it yet, go now. Thanks!

Er, rather, do me A FAVOR.

Please take five minutes to help a sister out. Tricia has an insightful blogging survey that she’s actually doing for a grade. It’s fun, it’s fast, it’s easy — much like your Caterwauling hostess.

And besides, what else do you have to do right now? Work?!?! Um hmm. Thought so. Now scoot. I’ll be here when you get back.

And, of course, those who might want to do me, you know where to find me (dawn AT caterwauling DOT com)!

I stayed home today to do intense editing (that, and I had a wicked migraine last night, so bad that I had to leave work before I murdered someone, just so they’d feel my pain). So I’ve been engrossed in talk shows and soap operas (I love the former, detest the latter).

I think daytime soaps and maybe even porn have totally ruined sex and romance for us. Sure, they’re turn-ons, but is it really like that in real life? (Allow me to insert the caveat that, on the few occassions that I’ve been lucky enough to have porn-quality sex, it was usually with someone who couldn’t form a complex sentence if they tried, and my brain needs just as much stimulation as my clitoris.) I swear, I blame television for making me want to find a storybook romance. But on the other hand, it makes me hope that it really is out there somewhere.

But until I find it, I’ve enjoyed masturbating like a dozen times today. 🙂

The Fatkins Diet!

updated

Yesterday, Cruise Director was giving away a pound of nuts to the first person to respond to his e-mail. When someone claimed the prize, he sent an e-mail saying, “Nuts are gone!” Shan wrote to me, “Um, we’re still here.”

Another prize quote came from Ronnie at the dinner party on Saturday, “I’m going to start dieting tomorrow, honest. Right after I go to church.” *snerk* And hell will be freezing over next!

And one more. …

After my hour-long meeting with my supervisor today, I told Angie that I will absolutely kill myself if I hear, “Just so we’re on the same page” again. Ergh! I told her, “Yeah, you wanna know what page I’m on? The fucking epilogue!”

OK, because you’ve been good, one last one. …

During my meeting with my supervisor and Cruise Director, I made mention how my digital camera broke when I took a picture of Pride Fag. Cruise Director said, “And here I thought he only broke mirrors!” *rofl*

“Meetings: where people take minutes and lose hours.” — author unknown

OK, so today is my new day to meet with my supervisor, which was established at my request so that I wouldn’t have to wait around, waiting for her prior meeting to finish. Of course, at 10 a.m., I was ready to get it overwith, but she had people in her office. I left a snarky message for her to please correct me if I got the time wrong. She got back at 10:40 a.m. to inform me that I should KNOW to just knock on her door and tell her I’m there and ready (note that I work three doors down from her — it’s not like I make a special trip to the end of the earth for this misery).

In any event, we met. And I have to meet with her and Cruise Director later today. She wants us to face off (I’m not kidding) about our frustrations with each other. What’s weird is that my job has been going rather well lately. I really don’t have any complaints. The few issues I’ve had, well, I’ve told her about, but since she can’t make a decision, she takes them to Cruise Director and usually loses a few vital pieces along the way, because he apparently doesn’t get what she’s talking about (her words, not his).

She was really provoking me today to come up with a bitch list, and I said look, any problems I’ve had, well, I’ve identified and solved them. Or I’ve got a plan in motion to solve them. Further, I told her, my dealings with Cruise Director have uncovered three truths: I tell him that I had a problem and I solved it; I tell him that I have a problem and here’s how I plan to solve it and I need his blessing; or I tell him that I have a problem and I need some guidance on how to solve it effectively. I told her that I have no intention about going to him and whining, nor do I feel the need to come up with things to whine about.

The thing is, he’s very direct. Don’t waste his time with whining. Our members, governance and other miscellaneous leaders are permanent thorns in his side. He hears pissing and moaning every minute that he is working. And he turns off when one of us sees fit to whine — he really does tune out and (appears to) pray for death when you go in there, rambling and expecting him to make the decision for you. And that’s the thing with my supervisor — she doesn’t make decisions. And what I refrained from saying out loud is that, with every problem I’ve had (with readers, software, hardware, colleagues, etc.), I’ve fixed it myself. And, of course, there are some ongoing personality clashes, but those were happening long before I took this job and they will continue long after I’m gone.

Anyway, she seemed really pissed that I didn’t have an agenda. I said, look, I’m not trying to be combative, but I really do have to say that I am appreciative of my employer for approving some major expenses that I need to make to upgrade my equipment. I am pleased that, when leaders start fighting among each other and I get caught in the middle, Cruise Director jumps in and is usually quick to support me and to minimize the bullshit that distracts us all from doing our jobs.

In any event, I know I’m going to go in there this afternoon and feel stupid. I mean, Cruise Director hates meetings (especially time-wasters) as much as I do, but my supervisor is gleefully rubbing her hands together and beaming because she’s gotten the superpowers in a room together. All I know is that I need to get through this without saying anything negative (that will cost me my credibility). Maybe if she weren’t in the meeting, I could say that my No. 1 obstacle, sadly, might just be the supervisor herself.

Bonnie sent this gay quiz — I got a 44 percent. How did YOU score?