Caterwauling

I may not have anybody up my cooch, as of this typing, but I sure have an army up my ass these days.

I admit, I’m a little irritated that I missed a ticketed event last night thanks to that thing that both pays the bills and takes more years off my life than a thousand cartons of Marlboro Lights.

Sure, I could have gone late. Yes, I’m the one who ultimately decided that I didn’t feel like changing into semi-formal clothes, doing my makeup, hopping on the Metro and forcing myself to be social after the day I had.

It’s my own damn fault that I missed out on the awesome swag (cosmetics and such) because of my own homicidal tendencies. But damn, can’t a girl even get a half-hour in which to simply pull herself together and not always have to be rushing from one thing to the next?

I actually woke up this morning and thought it was Saturday. That there could not POSSIBLY be one more workday left in this week. Hah. WRONG.

Well, before I get forced at gunpoint back into the hamster wheel, a moment of levity. You’ve got to love a male doctor who puts you in stirrups and compliments you on the fact that your toenail polish matches them! (They were purple.)

A friend asked me whether I get freaked out at the hoo-ha doc since you’ve got your ass hanging out and such. I said no — perhaps too many people saw it in my 20s, so I think it should be housed in the Smithsonian with other property that belongs to the public.

I’m more vulnerable when it’s my soul on display. Which, luckily I guess, I don’t have the time of day to do, so at least something is being preserved during this ridiculous era of my life. ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t my sanity or the will to keep up this pace for much longer. …

Another day, another addition to my Dead Sea Scrolls-sized shit list.

Actually, the same assholes are on it — I’ve changed my analyst rating of some from “want to kill” to “needs killin’ STAT.”

Since I just made an appointment with the hoo-ha doctor for next week, I can share this story that’s sort of related to my ass:

Friend: So, where should I put these files?
Me: Up my ass.
Friend: Hrm. Well, I don’t know, because I’m not certain anyone would know to look for them there.
Me: There are so many people up there, I’m sure that someone is BOUND to see them and ask what they are.

I knew Amalah was going to have a baby this week (OMG, check out this wee one. Can you say Teh Kyootness? Yes you can!).

I decided I was jealous that yes, while she had someone up her butt, at least he was coming out. And as Tiff reminded me, the people up my butt? Not so kyoot. Not one bit.

My friends keep asking me when I’m going to post a new blog. I try to tell them that I don’t have anything to say, which they don’t believe for one minute. But then I say, “What I have to say would get my ass double-Dooced,” and they totally get it. Well, those who understand what the term means and all.

I actually heard that term at BlogHer D.C. on Monday. Which, OMG ugh. Can you imagine?

Speaking of OMG, let me give you my highlights from the conference:

1. Spending the day with Tiff. Which, yay! Although I was bummed that The Funky Feline couldn’t come out and play. I did Tweet to her that she wasn’t missing much.

2. Lunch. Nom nom nom. Healthy and tasty veggie-type stuff and fish with a curry sauce.

3. Afternoon break, with chocolate-covered apple slices and a soft chocolate chip cookie. Blew my diet for the first time on that cookie and holy shit, it was worth it! I still lost 2.5 pounds this week, so chocolate apparently does a body good. (And, sidenote to Tiff, diets may do a body good but his girlfriend will always be a ‘ho, no matter how much milk or whatever else she drinks!)

4. Cool-ass swag. Seriously. The sponsors were awesome.

5. The cocktail reception. I skipped the wine (I just heard about 35 of you hit the floor as you passed out!) but enjoyed the butternut squash soup, the crabmeat mac and cheese, and the mini quiches. *drool*

Mad, mad props to the Bethesda Hyatt for preparing food that was fit for a queen but that doesn’t push you into queen size.

As far as the conference itself, meh. There were some fascinating attendees. The speakers were OK mostly; I was sort of hoping to learn the finer points of creating an online experience for readers as opposed to “This is a blog. This is a blog platform. This is a feed-reader.”

One session in which I spent a whopping five minutes did me in for the day. The Internet wasn’t working and the panelists said they’d take questions in the interim. First question? “How do I find blogs to read that I might like?”

*thunk*

Um, other than the fact that you should start at, oh, BlogHer.com since it hosts 30,000 of us, is this what I paid $100 to learn? Jesus Christ.

Out of my mouth, very audibly and yes, very inappropriately, came “Are you fucking KIDDING me?” At which point I left and joined the Geek Lab and talked to others who already knew how to locate their asses with both hands.

I was rather entertained by the fact that the lunch speaker — a Yahoo! employee — mentioned several of Google’s tools for analytics and such. Blasphemy! Isn’t that illegal, to nod to the competition (even if it’s not even a close competition)?

What really surprised me was how many people peered at my name tag (with my real name) and said, “Oh my God — you’re Goddess!” Or the sponsors who saw my name tag and said, “I’ve checked out your blog — you’re the one who fell off the toilet!”

Oy.

Oh well. Beat being at work. There’s a reason why my vacation bank’s cup runneth over. (Well, accrual has halted until I start using my days, so no overflow there.) Chaos reigned while I was gone, and being away for a day was the equivalent of taking off a full week.

I canceled my planned vacation day for this coming Friday because of the insanity. Hope my friends enjoy having one less person at the cabin down in Shenandoah. My sanity is too precious to risk it (further) at this juncture.

That’s OK, though. There is a silver lining in all of this. Of course it has nothing to do with work, but let’s just say I’m working for the weekend, literally … it’s just in six weeks from now.

Lawd give me strength in the interim. …

Gemini horoscope:

“Trying to get too much work done in the course of one day might prove self-defeating today, Goddess. Your physical energy isn’t what it usually.”

Nervous breakdown in progress. Whee!

I think it says something when we had our first departmental happy hour in, well, forever. And five out of the six of us had to come back to the office afterward.

When you wake up as tired as you were when you went to bed, and you go to sit on the toilet in a sleepy stupor and you FALL THE FUCK OFF THE TOILET and land in the bathtub because you missed the seat in your quasi-comatose state, you just KNOW how your day is going to turn out. …

“Have you ever been so lost
Known the way and still so lost?”

– Katy Perry, “Lost“

Man, talk about knowing the way and not knowing WTF to do first. Am buried in what we shall heretofore refer to as “Crap-a-Lanche” (i.e., Crap Avalanche). Apparently we’re reorganizing a tad at work. And apparently that means giving up two projects and gaining 40.

The only other thing I will say about reorganizing, other than I’m grateful to have a job in this clusterfuck we call an economy, is that instead of having one person here and there say, “That’s not my job,” you now get the person who USED to do the task telling you that your request is no longer their job PLUS the extra-added bonus of the new person doing the task saying that it’s not their job yet.

*head —> desk*

I’ve donned what I call the cloak o’ invisibility — that is, I’m pretending to be on vacation so I can give the new projects a full week of love, as opposed to the neglect they were getting otherwise. Well, guess what? That just frees me up from the daily crap to deal with the other crap I never had time for. And have I made a dent in the projects I’m supposed to be working on? Oh HELL no. See “It’s apparently nobody’s job,” above. Since apparently I have to do it if no one else will.

Zoloft, can has?

“Table’s set
The beds are made
Seems I let them slowly fade
Here I am at winter’s birth
Called to from beneath the earth
These frozen songs beneath the street
Buying shoes to bind my feet
Once my face it scrapes the dirt
No one asks if I am hurt
I am hurt.”

– Tara MacLean, “Things Outstanding“

Speaking of vacations, I’ve been looking forward to a combined work/pleasure trip. It’s paid for. It’s all non-refundable.

And then …

I heard a nasty rumor that the trip is canceled.

This came on the day when I got another notice from payroll that I’m no longer accruing vacation days because my bank is full.

I’m hoping I’m allowed to take the trip anyway, since it’s all paid for and stuff. I told folks that I don’t even care if the thing is canceled — just transfer my eight hotel nights to a D.C.-area establishment and don’t tell my Extended Houseguest^TM that I didn’t leave town!

What really irks me is that I could have spent that money on another trip I’m trying to save up for. Just a weekend jaunt to see an old friend from college. And by “just” I’m lying and by “old friend” I mean “I don’t really know what we were, or what we are now, but I am determined to find out.”

“The pain is self inflicted
I know it’s not good for my health
But it’s easier to please the world than it is to please myself
Oh the rest is out of my hands.”

– LeAnn Rimes, “What I Cannot Change“

All right, I feel mildly better that I’ve spilled my pumpkin guts today. And speaking of guts, or losing mine slowly but surely, I am pleased to announce that I no longer have to unbutton/unzip any of my jeans or dress pants to take them off because they are all falling the fuck off. Easy-access clothes, can has!