Caterwauling

Since giving special people special dispensation is absolutely against policy, I decided I’m going to give “average” a shot.

And an hour into the day, I’m ready to go throw a stapler at someone.

I’ve been bugging one department to fix something or explain to me why Outcome D is only true for Player B and how we can get Outcome C for ALL players across the board.

I’ve gotten some movement but more silence than anything.

So today I ask, where are we with the process?

I get a “this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

DO I NEED TO PRODUCE LAST WEEK’S 15-INSTALLMENT E-MAIL CHAIN?

Then there’s an “well I was fixing (some other unrelated issue)” that I’ve never requested. It WAS an issue, yes, but I never opened my trap because then I won’t get the important stuff fixed.

America’s corporations killed America’s exceptionalism. And there’s a whole new generation of ideas dying a thousand deaths as I pound the keyboard with all my might to produce this blog entry instead of doing something that will bring in revenue instead.

I just do not know why there are no exceptions for the exceptional.

Yes, I rally and cry for what’s fair. I also know that nothing is fair. And if you constantly prove yourself again and again, why should you settle for not just fair, but LESS THAN fair?

So I got the resolution my vacation request.

Let me put it this way.

They had a chance in one instant to tell me something that would keep me there for the next five years.

They didn’t.

Why should I even dare to think that if you put in the longest workweeks, bring the platinum roldex nobody seems to care about and have experience that no one else can replicate, they’d see that and reward you for being amazing because you can’t help but dance circles around others without even trying?

Silly Goddess.

You know what’s stuck in my craw today? (And since 2006, really.) How employers allow folks to claim their spouses and kids on their insurance but I can’t claim my parent.

I have no plans to marry. Hopes, but not plans. And certainly no desire to have kids without said mythical partner. But if we can support all those people — people those workers rush out every day at 4:57 p.m. To see — why can’t my momma have a shot at survival when I give till it hurts us both?

I’m not looking to get myself disciplined or fired. I just think that if we are as a society increasingly covering life partners, well, what about mine?

Made it home from work in time for the end of “Undercover Boss” last night. A guy was just given $20K to buy a new car because he stays late and has a long commute. I almost choked on my cold dinner.

The nice dinner mom lovingly made at my request with the expectation I’d leave work at 6 and be home at 7. Something that never happens in my world but God a girl’s got to strive toward something

On the same day the CEO bugged me again about when am I going to go lease a new car. Whereupon I reminded him again that you can only put 12,000 miles on a lease and I drove 35,000 miles just last year to work.

He’s in the process of moving the office closer to civilization. But not close enough. I said if he can get it closer to my neighborhood, I’ll finally be able to get a safe car that I can afford.

Of course, then that would fuck up HIS lease with added miles. But he didn’t say that and I thank him for being classy enough not to.

I see this Undercover Boss shit also on the same day I finally had enough and went to H.R. about the unfairness of losing 168 vacation hours when I work 12-hour days and not only do we not have the staff to back me up, but now that I DO have a person who can learn how to do my job, WE DON’T HAVE THE FUCKING TECHNOLOGY to make it happen.

So yeah. A guy works late and has a long drive and gets a new car. I get reminded on a weekly basis that I should really go lease a new car and everyone’s eyes glaze like Krispy Kreme when I say “day off.”

Like I told H.R., I like what I do. I am just tired of hopping from job to job, working myself into the ground, losing vacation days, being promised bonuses, and in the end I am just burned out and my only vacation ends up being the days off between old jobs and new. It’s time I started preserving me and I want this to be the company that cares enough to let me do that.

Writer’s block is manifesting in my world as “Editor’s Block.” Which is really shorthand for “DON’T WANNA!”

The Mai-Tai crowd is looking for things from me, which they could very well help with if they didn’t believe with all their hearts that the building burns down after 5 p.m.

And I’ve got a list of things I need from the Mai-Tai crowd. Which I would appreciate them doing before my customers light me ablaze. Alas, their priorities are set by a different arm, one that seems to backhand our requests to the bottom of the pile.

Alas, speaking of “Don’t Wanna,” I don’t want anymore shooters in my beloved adopted city. And yet …

Send some prayers for the police officers who were shot just a few minutes ago at Constitution Avenue and Second, will ya? Everyone should realize that THEY ARE WORKING UNPAID RIGHT NOW.

And furthermore, those are MY streets, motherfucker. I drove them often. They belong to US, you moron. Don’t wipe your ass on them. I’m glad you’re in custody and I hope they Tase your nuts every 10 minutes.

Is it wrong that I blame Allen West? I kind of blame him for everything. And I totally wrote to his welcomed replacement to thank God I don’t have to be ashamed for Florida because I know I don’t have a Tea-bagger representing me and BOY am I proud.

While CNBC wets its pants over what they dub the “Shutdown Showdown” (What is this, the parallel-universe “The Price is Right”?), let’s take a moment to mourn the fact that the Panda Cam has gone dark.

You know I have PLENTY to say about those Tea Party twits. But Obamacare launched today. Hell. Yeah. Thank you that my mom has a SHOT at having some quality of life. If only I could get into the website without it breaking …

I remember working at a D.C. nonprofit and being on furlough. At my paid-nothing job. That required I spend one weekend a month working at a well-known print house. Whose contract I negotiated over a year in advance. Workers whom I could not let down because I was small potatoes and they just couldn’t move dates without it being a cost.

I worked through all our furlough dates. My staff did too but I took the brunt of it. Which I was OK with because once you miss publication dates, they run into the NEXT set of publication dates. It was either “keep working hard at a normal pace” or “renegotiate deadlines and BUST ASS EVEN HARDER” when everyone else came back rested from their unpaid vacation days.

I never got retro pay. I never got much of anything, really. Not even a thank-you.

I guess I’ve always understood the concept of Choose Yourself, even if it is choosing the lesser of two evils. As was pointed out to me yesterday though, the lesser of evils is still evil.

Speaking of evils, isn’t it time we called it quits on this Congressional experiment and move on with our futures? Quit rewarding the sequester/fiscal cliff/shutdown masterminds (really, 40 people in the House) and clean, well, House!

I was just about to type a list of all the things that irked the fabulous fuck out of me today, but I will digress.

I will say, when everybody else “Chooses Themselves,” who’s left to pick up the slack?

Anyway, I look toward the north to my lovely friends who went from a “couple” to a “family” in just one weekend, and I realize, they’re doing something that counts. They are taking a break from everybody and everything else (minus the house full of loving grandparents and great-grandparents) and they are investing in what matters. Their future. Their present. Their NOW. Their insanely cute little boy. Their relationship. Their family who dropped everything to rush to their side. Investments that will more than pay off when this ephemera wears off.

What am I investing in today, except for a few pennies that got thrown into my 401(k)? What relationships did I build? What texts/e-mails/Faceypages messages did I answer? What connection did I make with my mom, my friends or basically any other human who either wasn’t asking me for something or avoiding my requests for something else?

I forgot how exciting it is to have cute boys checking me out in public.

Mom says they do all the time, but I noticed it twice this weekend. She caught it a third time that I missed.

Never considered blonds before, but hey, it’s Florida. Maybe I need to stop limiting myself to the dark-haired boys, with early hints of silver, these days.

I never settled when it comes to men. I’ve had a few feed me lines and outright lie to me. Mostly they were bosses. But still. The guard is never down and even for as pudgy-wudgy as I’ve been throughout most of my life, I NEVER took that as a reason to settle in the man department.

Anyway, I’ve been disgusted with an online dating site that promises guaranteed results. OMG. The hell, man. They all want people under a certain weight, and I can’t say I’ve seen anything attractive about any of them.

I wised up and put income restrictions on my respondents. And I’m not getting any respondents. Mostly because they all want some young, Skinny Minnie looking for a sugar daddy who is probably 10 years older than his lone photo (of himself — plenty of boat photos) conveys.

Such a shame that I’ve always been confident in myself but it takes melting off 15 pounds for others to see it. Of course, the shorts I wore today that haven’t fit in two years really DID look damn cute!

Two people I’ve known forever … from being a part of their very first date to their wedding to seeing them live the happily ever after … have brought into the world today their first child.

If you thought I was homesick for D.C. now, just DON’T talk to me if you are in any way keeping me from being there right now.

It all happened because two people fell in love. Amazing what can result when that happens.

Welcome, little one. I think you hit the parental lottery. Can’t wait to meet you, and to see your amazing parents again, and to spoil the shit out of you in any way I can.

After all, tonight you gave me something I haven’t had in a long time: peace. And hope.

I haven’t talked about my pudgy pork roast ass in two weeks since I lost 3.5 pounds (which, rock), but I’m still plodding along the journey.

Maintained last week and dropped 1.6 today. Again, rock.

Today the leader decided to have a conversation with me while I jumped on the scale. Which, eek. Because, I barely tracked my food this week and I knew a surprise to the upside could very well be in store.

Oh, sweet Jesus, hallelujah.

I took a minute and welcomed a brand-new member today. Something I wish anyone would have taken the time to do for me. I also thanked my leader for taking time to have a real conversation with me about my journey so far.

I do different things every week. I eat whatever I want. I eat whenever I want. I never abide by my daily points and I stop eating whenever I decide I am done.

Back in the day your points value changed every time you dropped to a new “decade” in weight. If you went from 190 to 180, you lost a point. The new system is different, and even though I am certainly between numbers, I lost a daily point.

Again, not that I adhere to them because I have “bonus” points, if you will. So I presume I won’t even notice. Although, perhaps maybe I should.

My tweaks to my life have been small. For instance:

• Powdered coffee creamer 100% of the time. And no skim milk or my fake milk if there isn’t any — go for the half-and-half and enjoy it. Otherwise skim milk means it will suck and need two packets of asparteme, and asparteme gives me headaches and possibly causes cancer.
• Whole wheat is just as bad as white bread. And if my local bagel joint’s nutritional page is to believed, it’s actually worse. So, multigrain whenever possible, when it comes to starches.
• Egg whites are terrible. Says she who has consumed gallons of them. Real eggs only now. With yolks. Fuck you nutritional studies that say they’re good, then bad, then good again. Done listening.
• Light beer sucks. Give me a Magic Hat, a Purple Haze, a Guinness. I will drink less and enjoy it more.

And that’s the key — when you eat or drink something that doesn’t fulfill you emotionally or physiologically, you won’t stop till you find what might … no matter how many points you’ve already consumed.

We all just want to go to bed happy, I think. If I “cheat” per se but DAMN IT WAS WORTH IT, those are the weeks I lose weight. And more of it than just three-tenths of a pound.

My boss gave me a book on how to “Choose Yourself” and I have been reading it. Funny to get that from a workplace that I give 60-65 hours of work, eight hours/300 miles of commute, five Advils, three nightmares, two tanks of gas and one night of lost sleep every week, and it’s still not enough. But, you know, I appreciate the thought.

But really, choosing to get healthier IS me choosing myself. Because as the book says, you can’t have success if you don’t have your health. Just look at my mom, whose health has declined so much that I can’t even look at her anymore. (And yes I hate myself for it.)

So fuck you GOP for blocking Obamacare and fuck you Michele Bachmann for “earning” an $80,000/year pension for life for contributing NOTHING to this word and fuck you everyone who sees us decreasing humanitarian aid overseas and worrying WHAT ABOUT THE OIL TANKER STOCKS because there’s less caaaarrrrrgoooooooooo. And everyone like them who would rather let us die on the inside and the outside when it wouldn’t exactly kill them to throw us a lifeline. Ted Cruz and your goddamned Goldman Sachs healthcare plan. Fuck you most of all.

Anyway.

Down a pound and a half. This week in my life counted for something. Hooray.