Caterwauling

I already hate PETA anyway, and my own cats make it very realistic for me to support cruelty to animals. Or, lest I get the hate mail that I am absolutely uninterested in, let’s just say that animals are meant to be eaten, and I know a nice Vietnamese restaurant where I’m taking my pets for dinner. (Or, for someone ELSE’S dinner!)

Last night, Maddie took a wet shit on the living room floor after I’d gotten done cleaning the place. So I scooped that up and took it through the rain to the trash.

And then you’d think her bowels were empty. But oh NO, she had more left in her. I awakened this morning not to the scent of coffee or even freshness, but more fucking SHIT. And sure enough, in approximately the same spot, was another whopping pile of poo. Piles, actually — she got it everywhere.

It’s very hard to start off the day on the right foot when your cat shat on the rug and wiped her butt on the wall.

Bought a strap-on (ha!) heating pad for my lower back. Only problem is that I have to stay parked by an electrical outlet at all times to benefit from it. Feeling not unlike “The Electric Grandmother.” If I wear it to work, would anyone notice my plug hanging out of my ass as I go into meetings?

I’ve been fighting a backache for three days (sitting for X amount of hours on end in a non-ergonomic chair probably contributed), so I’m bitchy. And ouchie. And misery-filled. And “cwabbers,” as my niece says when she’s crabby.

My colleague has some sort of poison ivy/oak/sumac/who the hell knows. She called yesterday to say she had to work from home because she was puffy and itchy and twitchy. And I’m like, yeah, that’s how I get on Wednesdays (my supposed “power day” as a Gemini but it’s really nowhere close), and I have to come in, so no staying home for you!

Anyway, we’ve become known as “The Bitchy and Scratchy Show.” Something tells me these monikers are going to stick around for a LONG time after this week passes. …

Dear cat who pissed in my beloved and so-not-cheap Samsonite rolling luggage thingy: I’m never coming home once I leave. Ever. Love, Mommy.

I don’t suppose any luggage stores are open at 8 a.m. on a Sunday? *kick*

My new theory is that I am not going to let anyone drive me crazy, but they can sure as hell be a passenger during the journey there. I just reserve the right to strap them to the sunroof.

Notice: All instant messages sent to and from this buddy name will be logged by the IMAuditor and are subject to archival, monitoring, or review and/or disclosure to someone other than the recipient.

C: are the Web sites down?
Me: does a bear poop in the woods?
C: kanks
Me: sure
Me: The fun never begins!
C: eggzactly
Me: while I have you, can I bug you for a word-choice conundrum?
C: of course

(actual professional discussion)

Me: that works
Me: kanks!
C: ahhhh
C: awhhhhh
C: yeah, awhhh
Me: what’s sad is that we can differentiate among the different grunts around here
C: hunh!
Me: quack
C: hunh?
Me: snarf
C: this is redickalous
Me: snort
C: uncle!
Me: ack
C: aaaarrrrggggghhhhh

Me: seriously, though — you’re a lifesaver
C: does that make me a sucker?
Me: I can’t answer that on company IM 🙂

I can actually get out of here on time tonight. I know, I’ve never really defined “on time” but hey, I’ll take it! Probably in a half-hour, by my estimation. The funny thing is that a colleague just offered to pick up dinner for me and I’m like, nope, I’m leaving soon. Which made us laugh and he asked again because, well, we all know how THAT goes. 😉

Still, I am hopeful to enjoy some of the daylight that’s left. And yes, I’m aware the days are getting longer. Mother Nature’s days aren’t the only ones that drag on, but today? Mine will hopefully NOT be one of them!

GAWD, what will I do with all this free time? 😉

So we’re having our annual health assessments at work tomorrow morning, a voluntary thing where they swear they don’t screen us for drugs. (I suspect that they’d let us go if we WEREN’T pissing foam from all the beer we drink to recuperate!)

Anyway, I left work about 20 minutes before my fasting had to begin, so I had a joyous dinner at Wendy’s in the car on the ride home. *barf*

I was bitching because that means I have to do my morning-shift work without the benefit of coffee, but my friend said I could probably have caffeine; it probably depends, though, what I add to it. I thought about it and said, “Well, it’s not like I’m putting a hamburger in it!” So, it must be OK, right?

Goddess sans coffee plus work that requires alertness equals a very scary start to tomorrow looming. At least I already know it’s going to get better from there!

I haven’t driven in more than a week, but boy, have I covered the miles in a whole bunch of unpleasant ways. …

SPOILED

I’ve typically taken Amtrak’s Acela Express for my roundtrip jaunts between D.C. and Manhattan. And last night, in the interest of time, I hopped aboard the Regional Service car and paid the $35 to upgrade to business class. And you know what? It sucked in comparison! All they did for biz class was take a coach car and tape a sign over “Coach Class” to read “Business Class.” The seats were so much less comfy than the Acela’s, and the ride took 45 minutes longer.

The neat thing about the Acela is that it only makes about six stops: BWI Airport, Baltimore, Philly, Wilmington, Del., Newark and Penn Station in New York. But the Regional Service only added Trenton and a couple of others, and I swear, the ride felt like it took forever. Next time, just for the happiness factor of my ass alone, I’m just going to pay the extra $100 and ride the Acela, which is all biz class and is comfy as hell. (And, it only takes a little less than three hours in a nicer car.)

I can be cheap about a lot of things — I won’t pay retail for designer bags/shoes/clothes, I shop the grocery store specials, etc. — but I am one unhappy goddess when my ass hurts. Oh well — I guess it still beats sitting on it all day in an office in a suit. 😉

JUNK IN THE TRUNK

When I left, my car had been buried in an ice avalanche for days … I am looking forward to actually driving — these cabbies are NUTS!

Speaking of cabbies, N.Y. cabs have a “Customer Bill of Rights” that pretty much every driver I had managed to violate. First of all, half of these guys had no idea where to go when I gave them addresses. I’m not going to obscure places — I’m tossing out hotel and restaurant names and telling THEM which direction to go in, which is odd. How can you be a New York cabbie and not know where to go? GAH.

But the worst took me from the train station to the hotel in Chelsea — a $4 ride, really. (I was being lazy and hailed a cab anyway.) So, $20 later (yeah, I know!), I was infuriated because not only did I have to put my own bags into the car, but I had to get them out. I got dropped at the hotel, and after (unfortunately) tipping the asshole with the turban, the B.O. and the cell phone plot done in Arabic to blow up the city (seriously, I don’t know — they’re not supposed to sit on the phone for the whole ride!), I got dragged away while I was still in the trunk.

It’s funny now, I suppose, but it took me so long to get my big, honkin’ suitcase out of the trunk myself that he thought I was done. (I still had a small bag with a laptop in the trunk to fetch.) Anyway, Terrorist-in-Training decided I must have been done (even though I never closed the trunk) — which I wasn’t because the trunk was so DEEP that I had to practically crawl IN to get my second bag — and started driving away. HAH!

He didn’t speak a word of English, but he sure as hell recognized, “HEY ASSHOLE!” because he stopped and I was able to put my FEET ON THE GROUND AGAIN.

Two obnoxious gay men stopped to laugh at me. Which, they reminded me of someone I dislike anyway, and I immediately shot them a big, fat, “FUCK YOU” while I was at it. *kick* No wonder people think I’m a native — my trash-mouth fits right in!

I really do love New York, though. I love that people think I’m coming home when I go there, and I can put up with the assholitry because I have stories to tell when I come home. Because really, how funny is the image of me riding in a cab with my feet sticking out of someone’s trunk? I suppose that’s NOT an unusual occurrence up there! 😉

You can tell that my hallway is filled with a bunch of single workaholics. The office closed at 3 p.m. for inclement weather (pussies!), and the joke here is that it closes at 3 A.M. for my team. (Don’t laugh — last time we closed early, I left at 4 a.m.) Five of us are still in the building, which means we can turn up the volume on our speakers and enjoy each other’s life soundtracks.

Anyway, we’re all blasting our iTunes, and out of various offices I can hear “Since U Been Gone” (Kelly Clarkson), “Say it Right” (Nelly Furtado) and “Song for the Dumped” (Ben Folds Five). (I’ve got ’em all, and I’m listening to Papa Roach’s “Scars” at the moment.)

Yep, we’re a happy bunch. *blows out brains*