Granted, I should be at the Veggie Patch right now, searching for horse tranquilizers in unlocked offices, but no, I’m here in my jammies, drinking coffee, chainsmoking and throwing treats at my 20-pound puss.

The “Veggie’s Revenge” triple feature ended with a bang this morning. 😉 Hallelujah and holy shit.

The Status Quo

So very tired. Cat was jumping on my hip like it was a trampoline this morning. “Feed me!” vibes emanated from her hot little breath when she showed up in my face a few moments later. She does not understand that tired Mommies still can throttle bad little kitties in their sleep, but I chose the non-violent route of dragging self out of bed to feed the little brat. As soon as I opened my door, she darted to the bathroom sink for her morning drink from her personal waterfountain.

Shan surprised me yesterday with a trip to the nail salon for a full set of nails. While they just look too pretty for words, well, the little Asian butcher who did the manicure drew more blood than my doctor when I went for blood tests last year. I winced 12 times, teared up six times, and left there with her name and a promise to never see her again. Those Asian chicks are rough as shit on your hands. I have the overabundance of glue that she used in the cuts that she inflicted too. Christ.

But it was a lovely idea, and she even bought me a po’ boy sandwich meal at Popeye’s afterward too. That made the pain better. Of course, Popeye’s makes everything better. …

Had an intense meeting with Demure late in the workday. She came back essentially begging for the dummy layout, because as she put it, what Kumquat wants, Kumquat gets. (For those who are just tuning in, King Kumquat is the king of the Veggie Patch. I used to refer to him as Jackie Chan, but this fits much more compactly into the Veggie Patch Playset.)

*Now, back to my regularly scheduled ranting. …*

I was livid. I shut the door and I was like, look, I am all for picking up and doing all the work in the department, but if you’re gonna throw yet another project on my overloaded plate, it had better be a necessary and a reasonable one. I reminded her that yesterday was, in fact, one of three vacation days that I was not able to take, so I think it’s pretty wonderful of me to even have busted my ass for the past three days on necessary work.

She pursed her lips and did her weird deep-thinking lip movements and tried to reason with me. I said again, look, I’m not trying to be insubordinate, but rather, I am trying to have a closed-door venting session with my supervisor. I told her the three thousand things I have accomplished in three days, and I noted that most of those items involved eight e-mails and four phone calls each, so it’s not like I have my thumb up my ass, waiting for their guidance.

I’m too much for her. She was about to throttle me at that point. So, I calmed down and I said that I know everyone’s busy and worried that I’m not going to be able to pull this off, and that if I can just do the work that I can’t even get to, well, I promised to make things “all better.” But that they have got to make reasonable allowances and accommodations, because while I’m still a 9-to-5 employee at the Veggie Patch, well, the Veggie Patch Gazette is an enigma, an entirely different entity that simply cannot follow the established expectations of her other departments.

And then I said the magic words that got her *temporarily* off my back. I said that look, I can’t promise to do something that I know I can’t do. I can promise to save the paper, I can promise to be there till the end of the publication process. What I cannot promise is to do this fucking dummy layout when I just don’t have all the materials on-hand with which to produce such a cumbersome document. I said that, more realistically, if she can wait until deadline day passes, on Friday I will know what I have in-hand and therefore I will have a much more solid idea of how to give them what it is that they are looking for. I said, look, right now, I have a better chance of predicting the patterns of the moon than what’s going on Page One of the publication.

And I kept going. I said that I don’t want to promise her something in vain,only for her to promise it to Kumquat, and then when I fail to produce it, we all look bad for even saying sure, you’ll have it, Kumquat. She finally became human with me then and said that while she will still need this document ASAP, perhaps if I revisit it on Tuesday, I’ll be better able to predict (the patterns of the moon, essentially). Argh. But while I didn’t win this battle, I didn’t lose the war either.

Of course, Shan keeps reminding me that if I weren’t working at poverty level, I’d probably be much more inclined to crank out the damn document, just to quiet them.

Random offensive Dawn and Tiff IM conversation:

Tiff: Just what IS a Kumquat, anyway?

Dawn: A hairy little fruit.

Tiff: lol

Tiff: *pictures a kiwi in chaps*

Dawn: Little. Yellow. Different.

Tiff: LOL!

Kumquat brought Kiddie Kumquat to the Veggie Patch Holiday Fiesta last night. As soon as dinner was over, they were outta there. (*Note to self: Bring a child to next work function so I can leave early.*) Kid looks just like him. Scary.

For the record, Shan and I looked way too good to be at that party. So did a lot of people, which surprised me. People who have the Krispy Kreme (i.e. glazed) looks on their faces 40 hours a week can clean up surprisingly well. I saw ballgowns and jewelry and well-dressed spouses. I was floored. It’s amazing how many members of that bunch can be really attractive (not gorgeous, just pleasant on the eyes), once you wipe the dejected looks from their faces.

As for Shan and me, this is our last corporate party that we are not running or that we are forced to attend. We made a promise to each other and to ourselves. Just a few months more of digging shit out of our nostrils and washing our hands after wiping asses, and like we are saying now, this, too, will be a faded memory. …

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