Caterwauling

The more I sift through old e-mails (because, lawyers), the more I am so very grateful for that time in my life … and I’m just as grateful to recognize that the universe has other things in store for you afterward. Of course, it’s like stress just manifests in other forms rather than leaves completely.

Now if the universe can put its royal foot up the ass of the upstairs neighbors who awakened me today by yelling at their bastard elder child to put her fucking clothes on. And then they started fighting and throwing shit for good measure.

This is what happens when I work from home. And I need to be productive now because that fucking Fraggle comes home at 1 p.m. and all hell (and floorboards) will break loose until at least 10 p.m.

At which point it’s pot-smoking and rock concert for Big Giant Pussy and then the traditional “Yo, you’re a LOSER” screams over it by Thundercunt.

It’s no wonder my nerves are shot, my life is falling apart and leaving the planet has become a very real thought in my head.

In 29 days, I lose 28 days of vacation.

In other related news, water is still wet, a bear is taking a shit in the woods and Carly Fiorina continues to be more delusional than Donald Trump.

When bad things happen, you know inherently that there’s a lesson in them. But sometimes you don’t learn that lesson for a long, long time.

I’m used to employees grousing. I don’t hear it as much in my current life. But in some previous lives, you’d think people were being held against their will. I may or may not have been guilty of contributing to it. But I was also smart/lucky enough to move on, in many ways.

As a McManager, you have to learn the difference between regular grumbling and threats to the company. I detected a threat to the company earlier this year and sounded the whistle. And I was right.

Knowing myself, I feel particularly passionate when I’m super-invested in the situation. So I tend to have a higher appreciation for what I call “constructive bitching.”

I can’t say much more because, lawyers. But it gets me to thinking how annoying it is that people can make their thoughts/problems more important than yours, and it can impact/ruin your day/existence. Just like some people get all the perks when meanwhile you’ve been screaming “Pick me!” in your head and no one ever appears to be listening.

And at the risk of grousing (and lawyers), that’s enough for now.

Because I have a song for everything going on in my life.

Oh, and damn it.

A friend was supposed to come back to work today. Part of me was meh, because i like using speakerphone and dancing around at random times during the day. But then I thought, yay lunch buddy. You know, for the quarterly escapes. Alas, no lunching to be had because no buddy to be seen.

It’s all good. Given that eating popcorn resulted in blood loss.

Just another day in the paradise that is my life.

I got to thinking about the baby shower I missed out on.

When I last met my fambly in Orlando in December, I worked the whole time.

Sure, I joined them for dinner twice, and spent a couple hours at the pool with them. But other than that, when they went to bed/awakened/came back from wherever, I was on my laptop working.

Maybe they just figured I’d be working the whole damn time up there anyway. Perhaps they didn’t want to inconvenience me by making me feel obligated to buy a plane ticket/hotel stay/gift just to attend a two-hour party in Pennsylvania.

I don’t know. I’ll never know. And what I do know is that they are too nice to say otherwise.

Maybe I should send them a thank-you card.

There was an amazing, amazing article in Washingtonian magazine, “9/10: The Day Before.” Read it. I can’t do it justice to describe it here.

I thought back to my 9/10. I probably have a diary entry about the day. But my journals are in storage. And frankly I don’t care if I ever read them again.

But I can say with near-certainty that I didn’t document the day. I had my three smoke breaks with my boys Doug and Andy at 10 a.m., 1 p.m. and 3 p.m.

Doug and I were still in that “getting to know you” phase and everything was fun and flirtation … that we were super-careful to keep away from the disapproving eyes of cranky supervisors.

I know I worked late, un-fucking up a grant proposal my little fuckup “wrote.” I got home around 11 p.m., knowing I had a 7:30 a.m. meeting with Ora Lee (her real name) and my CEO who loved to treat me like shit based on my skin color not matching hers.

Read: No real reason to wake up.

Dinner was at Fox’s Pizza Den that I could see from my bedroom window. I ate there a lot and it explains why I was morbidly obese at the time. I’m pretty sure I picked up some Moose Tracks ice cream from the CoGo’s downstairs. Planning for the weekend or, at least, for the next night of eating my feelings.

That was it. I ate that ice cream while I watched the wall-to-wall TV coverage the next night. And fought back the feeling that I was already dead. And wondered whether I were too dead to come back from it.

That’s my story. Not one worth telling in Washingtonian magazine. But probably one more people can identify with.

Mom’s smoke detector has been chirping all night. I was knocked out on Benadryl and didn’t hear it. The banshees’ room is right above hers. I’m sad mom didn’t wake me up to change the battery, but thrilled that those fuqrs had a bad night because of us for a change. 

So I never slept last night. Thanks, Thundercunt. 

That’s not the confession. 

The confession is that I was just surfing Faceypages and saw another friend bragging about their betrothed online, like I was ranting about last night. 

But my missive wasn’t aimed at them. I wonder if they think it was. 

How do you apologize for something you didn’t actually do?

In any event, I am not going to worry about or even speak of the things I was thinking about the people I originally wrote about. 

After today, that is. 

I’m just very hurt that they are in a position to help me with something very important but refuse to. But when someone benefits THEM, they are all over that. 

It makes me sad and it makes me realize that some of the things from my old life that/whom I miss so much, are part of the past for a reason. 

And having the good memories be proven incorrect hurts almost as much as a so-called friend literally not giving a shit about a matter that’s life-or-death to me because they don’t want to get involved if it distracts them from living their happy life. 

But Poor Them if things aren’t going well … and my sympathy has run out. 

Thank you, TWC.

I was editing last night when someone IM’d to ask if they could call for clarification on a simple task. 

Since my editing deals with numbers, and because I HATE the phone … And, also, I hate people … I didn’t reply. 

Phone rings. Hilarity ensues. I find sledgehammer with which to numb my brain 15 minutes later. 

Today boss writes to ask why a section of a hugely circulated Thing wasn’t edited right. 

Guess what section I was editing during bloviatingly inane phone call. 

It’s my own fault. But it doesn’t stop me from being really, really annoyed.