Actually, I just work on the second floor.
The flying coffins elevators have been acting up lately, so one of the chicks in H.R. sent us an e-mail to ask us to specifically outline any troubles we’ve had with the elevators.
So Shan sends this:
“Elevator problems I’ve encountered:
Uh, it brought me to the 2nd floor… :)”
Yeah, it’s a recurring problem, coming back every day for more!
I have the “Cram It” bunny as my desktop and, of course, the “Hi. Eat me!” bunny adorning my car window, but the quiz says I’m this bunny:
congratulations. you are the “you smell like
butt” bunny. your brutally honest and
always say whats on your mind.
which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Link via Silver Blue.
My supervisor didn’t approve my budget at our meeting today — but the weird part is that she asked me to spend more money.
We were asked to cut 10 percent from our FY 2005 budgets, so I chopped out a good $53K. The only way I could do that was to cut one issue of the magazine out of the schedule, thus having 11 runs a year instead of 12. Not only that, but I also cut out all freelance writers’ services, because I think the money is better spent retaining our designer (they actually wanted us to bring the layout in-house — I deal with so much shit all month that I don’t think I would be mentally stable enough to lay out the paper, too).
My supervsior told me to budget for all 12 issues and to build in four freelance stories — she really feels that my budget should be spared from the suggested 10 percent belt-tightening. I was surprised — I really went into this meeting prepared to do battle because I thought they’d sooner see me get rid of the designer than a full issue.
But the weird news is that my supervisor and I really bonded today over a number of issues. I expressed my disgust with the fact that some of us with really good titles have little decision-making authority, when it comes down to it. I also said it bothers me that, like my last job, policies and procedures change depending on the mood of Cruise Director. And we had a long talk about how sometimes when you try to move forward on something because no one has the time to give you guidance, you get burned. And I wondered how many times she got burned before she became the type of worker she is today, which is often indecisive and definitely unsure about the decisions she does support.
I became that at my last job — scared to take a step forward, for fear of being slapped back into place. That scarred me for life, and I don’t want to be afraid. And unfortunately, I play a lot of political games (I’m the object known as the pawn). I told her that at a “real” publication, I could tell people to grow up and deal with things — that the rules can’t be bent just because they have big mouths and can create a lot of trouble until they get their ways.
Kind of like this recent debacle in which I interviewed the former child molestor, and everyone went apeshit and is trying to get me fired because of it. They get a hair up their asses, and who only knows how long it takes till Cruise Director gives them their ways (as he often does) just to stop the round-robin of e-mails and calls he gets. I doubt he would ever tell them that they should be ashamed of themselves and should maybe try being the professionals they supposedly are. Shit, this one wench running for president of the association started a flame war against me (unbeknownst to me), yet all the while we’ve been trading e-mails and having conversations in which she’s told me what a great job she thinks I’m doing. Fucking hypocritical asswipe.
At any rate, I just got home from work and I am tired. I have to wait around till things come together or people send me things, so my day really doesn’t even start until the early afternoon. Which, of course, means I work late. I still can’t figure out why my presence is required in the office during the a.m. hours — lord knows I’m not even awake enough to function even if I DID have the submissions at that time of day!
Motivation is hard to come by at work for me lately, even more so than usual. But we’re going into hella-busy time, and that’s the only time I feel vital. So I’ll be working a lot, but know that I am loving (every other) minute of it! 😉
The ever-wacko Michael “Jacko” Jackson has a warrant out for his arrest. The charge? Child molestation.
Clearly, the man needs some serious psychological assistance more than a night in jail (although he hasn’t been detained yet). Wonder who what he did to earn this trip to the slammer. 🙂 I wonder if there will be an O.J. Simpson-style chase with the cops and Jacko in a flying Dumbo machine or a hot air balloon. Heh.
Speaking of child molestors, I talked to the guy I interviewed for my last magazine issue. He was all hopes and dreams that somebody would hear his story and want to hire him. Shit. I was more than happy to tell him all about the letters to the editor declaring ME to be criminally insane for even interviewing him. I swear, in half of these letters, people are telling me that I must be in favor of child molestation, just because I told this guy’s story. I need to smack some of them around with a cluestick — just because I wrote his story doesn’t mean I condone it — I only shared it as a means of telling people in my profession that this is somebody who could be their client someday. Sheesh.
There are so many parallells between my interviewee and Wacko Jacko — not the least of which is a certain kind of innocence, in which they sought the company of young boys because, really, that’s their own level of maturity and mentality. But at least my interviewee knew he needed help — he just didn’t know how/where to get it, and even though he couldn’t afford it, he did get the help. Lord knows Jacko can afford some psychiatric treatment for his attachment to untapped anuses. 🙂
As I stepped off the elevator, the receptionist and I just exchanged weary glances. I said, “Somebody told me to go to hell. So I came here.”
I kept walking, but I could hear her giggles down the hall.
Meeting with Demure today. Weep for me.
Well, we’re all thrilled that John Muhammad was found guilty on all counts. Of course, you know what kind of punishment I think he deserves. Defense attorneys are still trying to argue that his finger never touched the trigger of the Bushmaster rifle, but I hope nobody’s buying that — he drove the car, he taught the boy to shoot and he willingly and knowingly contributed to widespread panic.
Now Lee Malvo’s trial begins. Laugh along at home at this:
(Samuel) Walker, one of several law officers who participated in the interrogation, said he was struck by Malvo’s maturity and intelligence. “I marveled at how intelligent he was,” said Walker, a veteran homicide detective who was assigned to the sniper task force.
If he were so intelligent, why the fuck did he think it was a grand idea to curl up in a trunk and shoot people through a hole? Not to mention, he truly believed the government would give the bumbling idiot pair $10 million to stop the madness. Mature and intelligent, my ass!
Dear whatever higher power might be listening: do not, under any circumstances, let Malvo’s insanity plea spare him in any way. He was not brainwashed (although, as I’ve heard it, it would’ve only taken a light rinse. LOL). Just because Muhammad was found guilty, I don’t want jurors to get soft and say that this kid has a chance to be rehabilitated. He doesn’t deserve that chance, after taking away so many tomorrows and possibilities from every person he spotted and took down.
Christ, I’m blogging about news, aren’t I? But it’s so much easier than forming an original thought. 🙂
Finally got the car inspected. My usual mechanic was there and took my order, and his response was, “Anything for Senorita Dawn!”
I liked that. Everyone should respond to my requests as such. 😉
Massachusetts court strikes down ban on gay marriage.
How sad that this is a victory — that people in love who don’t happen to be a man and a woman are treated as second-class citizens. Hurrah for common sense prevailing for once.
Well, I’m glad John Muhammad was found guilty of capital murder charges under Virginia’s anti-terrorism act, after his little sniper spree last year. But now the question remains whether he gets life in prison or death by lethal injection.
I’m sure you’ve all heard it from me before — I want to put him and Malvo into a fenced-off forest, and I want FBI sharpshooters in training to be outside of the fences, randomly shooting at them, so they never know when they’re going to die. In fact, I want the sharpshooters to only shoot to wound them at first — draw a lil blood from a finger here, just graze a shoulder there. Then go for the aorta. I want them to feel half as much fear as everyone in this area felt once they hit town.
A lifetime in jail at my expense is too fucking much. I pay a hell of a lot in property taxes and real estate costs — I don’t want another dime of it to go toward keeping these idiots alive and well in my state.
When you have a dream about someone — especially someone you haven’t seen/heard from since the beginning of time, does that mean they might have had a dream about you, too?
Even if it isn’t a dream had in slumber, suppose you crossed someone’s mind at the exact same time that they thought about you?
I had a dream about someone I knew in Pittsburgh, and the dream was, if not exciting, then at least pleasing (essentially the opposite of how we parted ways). And I recalled the person fondly, for a little while, when I awakened. I guess I just wonder if this person would ever stop to think, “Gee, I was lucky to know her.”
Of course, I am guilty of wishful thinking at times. 🙂