29 April 2008

Beaten to the punch.

In one of my brief moments of downtime today, I came across a lovely gem of a news story in the Strib. I wanted to blog about it, but I'm pretty paranoid about blogging at work. It's a new job, for one thing. Also, my cousin who attends Marquette had me take a survey his professor was conducting on workplace surveillance and that made me even more paranoid.

So I e-mailed the story to Big Blue Monkey and he posted it immediately. Dammit. It saves me the trouble of trying to think of something clever to say about that poor, unfortunate child, though. It's probably for the best. You may have noticed that my blogging has taken a pretty shitty turn since I returned to the workforce. Having to think all day is harder than I remember. And I'm tired. And drinking. Anyway. Local readers have probably seen it already, but if you're not local or you are and you haven't seen it ... What are you waiting for? Check it out, already. (Yes, it's the same link twice.)

I'm not sure what the reason may be, but work is not completely horrible this week. I only wanted to cry and throw up on the way in yesterday. I think I may have made it through the entire day today without a single mini-panic attack. Maybe I'm adjusting? Maybe the horrible anxiety last week was due to my stupid first week of birth control pills that make me crazy?

Maybe it's because I'm realizing that tomorrow I'm going to see one of my favorite bands in the whole wide world. (And! There is a Slats show on Friday. You should totally come out to see them!). Oh, but Elbow tomorrow. *sigh* God, I fucking love Elbow. I can't even tell you. Though I have tried. Macho Man doesn't get them. The Boy I Currently Like asked if it was a Peter Gabriel tribute band. Whatever. I love them. LOVE. THEM.

I managed to turn a good handful of friends on to Elbow with their first album. Personally, I think it's the best. It's probably the least accessible. Christ, I hated a couple of songs on that album until after the second time I saw them live. But I remain undaunted in my mission to spread the Elbow love and so, I think you should listen their new album, The Seldom Seen Kid. This gives you time to listen and decide you need to come to the Fine Line to see them tomorrow. I know the Fine Line blows, but Elbow could play in a Dumpster and I would get all up in that bitch to see them. I'm already a little misty. (down there)

28 April 2008

The heat is on.

It's very sad that I was so happy to arrive home from work today to a heated apartment. But damn, it's nice to not have to be wearing a hat and scarf and four layers of shirts. The Boy I Currently Like made me feel like a baby because I was complaining about the cold. In fact, he straight-up called me a baby. But fuck, y'all, being outside when it's 55 degrees is entirely different than sitting in your apartment all day when it's 55 degrees.

But I have one less thing hanging over my head now. Work wasn't the most horrible thing in the world today. I left mostly on time. Got my Maple-Bacon Lollipops in the mail today. Had a good workout. Watching the new House. Have an empty-stomach, post-workout buzz.

There seemed to be other things I thought about saying, but they are all gone from my brain right now. Such is life. At least I'm not bitching about my shitty job, right?

26 April 2008

Oh, and also?

Is anyone watching the draft? What in the name of all things holy is Keyshawn Johnson wearing? Honey, that is too much shit going on in one outfit.

I need a massage.

I'm so scheduling one this week.

It was 55 degrees in my apartment when I got up this morning. When I came home from yoga it was 54. While I was struggling to get my yoga mat, gym bag, purse, coffee, Target bag and Lunds purchases into the house, I was nearly dive-bombed by one of the robins that is apparently trying to build a nest on top of the light next to my door. And now I'm finally sitting down to work.

Christ. I'm so fucking crabby and stressed that my shoulders are up around my ears and I'm walking around with a permascowl on my face. Yoga didn't even do jack shit for me this morning. I'm so getting drunk tonight. Not drunk enough to get talked into going dancing, which is what Blondie wants to do for her birthday. It's not that I don't like to occasionally shake my ass, or anything. It's more that whatever venue they end up going to Downtown will inevitably be full of people that will make me homicidal, and fuck, I think I'm stressed enough.

When my life finally gets back on the right track, it's going to seem so fucking awesome after this shit.

25 April 2008

Remember when I said I wasn't working on Saturday?

I lied. But at least I can work at home? This means no drinking with Muffy tomorrow. Fuck.

Last night, I went to see Casiotone for the Painfully Alone with Macho Man, Mrs. Macho Man and ... a guy for whom I don't have a blog nickname. Macho Man bought my ticket, otherwise I probably wouldn't have gone. I'm not a huge fan or anything. But I do love, love, LOVE the Entry. And I love, love, love that the Entry has a Wikipedia page.

I left early because I was wiped out (and I'm a million times more wiped out today. I doubt I'll make it past 10:00 tonight), and quite frankly, the show wasn't very good. The first opening band was fucking terrible. Can't remember their name, but it had "unicorn" in it. It was a guy and a girl who sang -- and I use that word very, very loosely -- over samples or their own pre-recorded shit. Their last song consisted of the two of them screaming, while the guy (who was wearing some sort of mask and tapered, acid-washed jeans) danced on the floor. Again, I'm using the word "dance" in the loosest possible context. Mrs. Macho Man and I were concerned that he may actually have been having a seizure.

Y'all know I love to support indie artists. But fuck, man. I have standards. I don't like weird for the sake of being weird. And masked, flailing screamers with asymmetrical haircuts and tapered, acid-washed jeans are weird for the sake of being weird. You cannot tell me any different. They did have a keytar, though. But I think that was more for ironic purposes.

Sometimes it's so very easy to understand why people hate hipsters.

24 April 2008

I am not working on Saturday.

Seriously. Maybe I'd work from home, but there is no way in hell I'm going to come in to the office because you didn't do what you were supposed to do for two fucking weeks. Honestly. If you people had your shit together, we wouldn't have had to work until 7:00 last night.

Besides, I want to go drinking with Muffy Willowbrook on Saturday afternoon.

More tears today. The Boy sent me an e-mail that made me tear up. I just got off the phone with my dad and started crying when I hung up. It's probably ridiculous to bawl when people just check in to see how I'm doing, huh? But I'm a little on edge, you know?

I did get to leave at 5:00 today and eat lunch. Though, my lunch was foul because it had been sitting in the fridge for two days. And I even got time to read a bit of the paper today! Did you know that "Stressed workers often reach for calorie-rich foods, skip the gym after a taxing day or forego meals because of heavy workloads. Or they indulge in other bad-for-you behavior like smoking, drinking or staying out late."

My goodness. That is shocking news, isn't it? By the end of tonight I'll have done everything on that list but smoke. And it's always good to know that the drinking means I'm totally going to get breast cancer. What.Ever. I just can't fucking win.

I'm going to forget about it as best as I can for now. Macho Man and The Wife (she's really his girlfriend, but he calls her The Wife) are coming to pick me up in a bit to go see a show at the Entry. I haven't been there for so long. Nothing like a little live music to soothe the soul. And shit. Tomorrow is Friday. I can do this. I will make it through.

23 April 2008

Tears and booze.



There's nothing like showing up to mouse poop on your desk in the morning after a day that had you nearly in tears. Apparently they're all over our floor. Poop in my coworker's desk drawer. The office across the hall? Stuart Little has chewed through plastic and strewn spaghetti from the trash on a chair. GROSS. Our floor is now blanketed with classic traps, the traps that the mouse is supposed to go in and not come out of and poison (there's some under my desk!).

I suppose it's good that I've been so busy the past two days that I've not been able to eat. I've been on the verge of hurling anyway. It's a nice combo?

Tears and booze seem to be the theme of the past couple of days. Well, I managed to mostly stave off the tears last night. I don't need to subject The Boy I Currently Like to tears. Not unless he's the one making me cry, of course. And he's been far too nice thus far for that to happen.

Today was an 11-hour day with no food and missed yoga. I suppose it's okay to miss a workout if I'm taking in under 1,000 calories in a day. Ooooh, healthy!

Today also featured a boss who forgot to take the proposals that gave me an eye twitch yesterday to Fed Ex. They were due today in Florida and Alabama. A last-minute meeting that did nothing for me made me 20 minutes late for a phone interview. I'm worried though that I might end up making another horrible decision if I get offered another job. But sweet, merciful crap, I can't take much of this job. I spend most of my day in and out of tiny panic attacks. It's not good. Especially when I've not even been there a month.

Clearly, something is up, because I am having weird dreams. Like, a sex dream about Cute Coworker. Not good. And that dream just got more bizarre after the coworker sex part. When life shows up in my dreams, it's a sign I need to take a step back.

I don't know where I'm going with this, because I am drinking on an empty stomach and my brain is fried. Plus, Macho Man is on his way over to pick me up for Happy Hour. Obviously, this is exactly what I need.

21 April 2008

So bad it's comical.

As if my job couldn't possibly be any more odious, I discovered a new wrinkle today. I think we have mice. You may be asking yourself, "But Jess, why on Earth would you think that?" Why? THERE WAS MOUSE POOP ON MY DESK TODAY.

MOUSE POOP.

ON MY DESK.

Oh, Sweet Jesus. I overheard a conversation between my coworkers, too, that kind of filled in whatever blanks the mouse shit may have left. It seems that they might have thought they had them and received some sort of confirmation today. And it was not the mouse turds on my desk. I didn't have time to be freaked out or even ask if they meant what I thought they meant, because I was on my way to a totally fucking pointless conference call that took me away from work I should have been doing. We'll be having a chat tomorrow, though.

Newer visitors to I was told there would be bacon. might not know of my dealings with Stuart Little last year. My fear of mice is pathological. It's completely irrational. It's like a phobia. I freak the fuck out when I see one -- tears, sweating, borderline asthma attacks. It ain't a pretty sight.

And it's not just the fear. Rodents are unsanitary. They carry things like The Plague and the Hantavirus. My respiratory difficulties that seem to mostly go away when I leave the office could be due to breathing in pulverized mouse crap all day. I kinda wanted to hurl when I realized I'd eaten on that desk. Hooray for the new break room! Oddly enough, since the break room is right off the shop, I was worried about mice getting in there. Clearly, that ship has fucking sailed.

I'm actually laughing about it right now, but I won't be laughing when Stuart Little shows up for a visit while I'm there, I can tell you that. There'll be no way I'll be able to get anything done. They're already making me unproductive by not letting me listen to music. Maybe I can embrace Stuart and think of him as Mike the Office Rat from NewsRadio. I may talk a good game, but that ain't happening. Though, I do feel safer with other people around. Still, not even drinking can help me all that much and I can't drink at work.

Thankfully, the interviews are still coming in and I don't have to sleep there. And I barely ate anything at work today, too. Hooray for bright sides!

20 April 2008

At least I have a job. At least I have a job.

If I just keep repeating it to myself, um ... Hmmmm. I don't really know where I was going with that. I'm not sure there is even anywhere to go with it.

Good Lord. All the sitting on the sun-drenched, 70-degree deck and Twins' 10th inning wins in the world can't change the fact that I have to go to work tomorrow. I want to cry. I almost have several times today. The good stuff from the weekend just doesn't seem like enough to make the upcoming work week seem even barely tolerable. Especially since I started the work week today. Fuck.

The stupid thing is, I know I'm overreacting and I cannot stop myself. Guess my pill-induced anxiety is starting a day or two early. It must be because I'm paying $32 for them now. It's hard not to get caught up in the "Oh my God, we're totally going to have a week from hell" stuff rippling through my department at the end of last week. Yeah, there is a lot of stuff to get done, but I really don't think it's nearly as bad as they make it seem.

They all may be fine with working until 7:00 or 8:00 at night, but I have plans on Tuesday and Thursday (and hopefully Friday) and yoga on Wednesday. I've already been taking work home and not taking a lunch. I'm working fucking plenty and I will leave at 5:00. Maybe 5:30 if it's absolutely necessary that I stay.

GAH.

Honestly. I need to get over myself or something. So I have a shitty job. Big fucking deal.

There's a beer festival on the horizon. In the next two weeks or so, two of my favorite obscure-ish British bands are coming to town. Elbow will be here on April 30. Unfortunately, they are playing the Fine Line, but not even that shitty club can put a damper on my enthusiasm. Guy Garvey has the voice of a fucking angel and seeing that band live is the closest I will ever come to having a religious experience. And I'm just going to try to ignore the fact that The Boy I Currently Like asked "What is this? A Peter Gabriel cover band?" when "Scattered Black and Whites" came up on my iPod the other night.

While I was typing that previous paragraph, I was listening to South. They'll be at the Turf Club a few days after Elbow are here. Say what you will about MySpace, but if it wasn't for the message the band sent me through MySpace, I might have missed that show. And the only South show I've missed was the one where they were playing while I was at the Coldplay show at First Ave (but I didn't miss this show). I've been pretty shitty about keeping up with my concert calendar, but with the new Raconteurs album being out, that's all going to change. Their show was one of the best I saw when they were here a couple of years ago.

So, yeah. My job is shitty, but it's giving me money to go see bands that make me so very fucking happy. I'm really sorry for all of these woe-is-me-my-job-sucks posts. I feel like a broken fucking record. Probably because I am a broken fucking record. I suck.

18 April 2008

That's it? Not even a "Congratulations?"

Last week when I made my unemployment benefits request, I noticed that there was an a question asking if I'd returned to work full-time. This popped up because I had to report working a whopping 16 hours the previous week. I knew this week that I wouldn't have to file because I was back full-time and didn't need the dole any longer.

However, being the statistics and public policy geek that I am, instead of just not requesting benefits, I went through the whole thing so I could report that I had gone back to work full-time. I wanted to make sure I was counted, you know? Yes, I'm a total fucking nerd, but I have used that data in my work and God dammit, if I have a chance to make an impact on it, I'm going to do it. I thought perhaps once I indicated I had re-entered the workforce I'd get some sort of acknowledgement for it or something. Wishful thinking, I know. What I got was some sort of message saying there was a problem or I'd made a mistake. What the fuck ever.

It's a good fucking thing I'm working, too. Holy shit. I spent $42 putting gas in my car and $32 on ONE MONTH of birth control pills. I vaguely remember them being expensive when I was in college (didn't report them to the 'rents insurance), but I can't remember the last time I paid more than $15 for three months. Shit. For the last year they were free. Still, though, it's a small price to pay to keep my womb free of intruders. I'm terrified to see how much my Advair is going to cost under this stop-gap insurance. My guess is somewhere in the neighborhood of the actual cost of the insurance. But again, I have to breathe, so what's a girl to do?

I'm starting to think work is bad for me. And not just because it is the end of my second full week and I have a bag full of work that I brought home with me. I'm talking like, physically bad for me. I got sick after my first day (still blaming that one on The Boy I Currently Like, though) and I thought I was better at the beginning of the week. That was either a cruel joke or my allergies have kicked in. Except they are far worse at the office than at home or anywhere else.

Wearing dress shoes is fucking up my feet, which is in turn fucking up my knees, because they are hurting the entire time I'm on the treadmill and elliptical machine and continue hurting after. Lower back pain around my herniated disc? Check. Probably from sitting in a desk chair. Sore right hand? Check. I'm thinking it's from using a mouse constantly after not using one at all for two months. Stiff neck and shoulders? Check and check, motherfuckers. That's where I carry all my tension. I'm sure the tension headaches are just around the corner. That thing under my right shoulder? Still there.

Good God. I sound like (and feel like, quite frankly) an old woman. I have barely been home from the gym for an hour and I'm ready for bed. Ooooh, hooray Friday! Clearly I was not meant to work at a desk. Or wear shoes that are not Chuck Taylors. But I have to be able to buy booze and birth control pills, so I must work. Someday I will find that perfect job, though. I know it!

16 April 2008

Hootertown, USA.

Saturday night was my first night out on the town in ages. I was so stoked to be going to not one, but TWO parties. And one was at a bar! So, when I was out shopping for new work clothes, I came across a couple of not-exactly-work-appropriate shirts that were totally appropriate for going out.

Or so I thought.

The shirt is hard to describe. It's this Calvin Klein number (originally $69, I paid like, $11 and change. This is why I bought one in purple and one in black), with ruching on the sides and this drapey neckline. There are pictures, but I'm not posting them here. Anyway, I quite liked the shirts and wore the purple one Saturday night. I was actually concerned that it was a bit tight when I left the house.

Oh, did that change drastically over the course of the night. It wasn't too bad when I got to the engagement party, but I was feeling a bit too booby for the occasion. But I got a few compliments on the shirt and I tried to not be too concerned.

Fast forward to the World's Worst Wing Woman's birthday party at The Independent and Lord almighty, I was having problems. That shirt had stretched out so much my bra straps were hanging out and the neckline was always dipping dangerously close to where my bra started. It probably passed there a couple of times. It was so bad that I had to put Mrs. Dirk on Boob Patrol. I got a ton of compliments on the shirt there, too, but I also kept apologizing for the vast amount of cannage I'd unleashed on the group. It's one thing if you go out intending to be hooterific, but I didn't think the shirt was that bad when I bought it or when I put it on initially.

I might even have a new nickname after all this. Macho Man was calling me "Twin Cannon," or "TC" for short. Awesome.

But I can fix this problem in the future, especially now that I'm working and have some money. I'm heading over to Brides of France tomorrow on the way to the gym to pick up some Hollywood Fashion Tape, or as I've been calling it for a few years, Boob Tape.

Do y'all know about this? It is a fucking miracle product, created by a couple of ladies from Minneapolis. My aunt introduced me to it a few years ago when I was using a tiny safety pin to cover up some of my cleavage in a wrap dress I was wearing to my cousin's Confirmation. I didn't think it would be appropriate for me to have the fun bags hanging out at the Basilica. At the block party, maybe. But for Confirmation Mass? I didn't want to doom my cousin just because she chose her sponsor poorly. My aunt got a box for me at her salon and Sweet Baby Jebus, y'all, my life was changed. Yeah, you could just use double-sided cloth tape or whatever that shit is, but that stuff is unwieldy and so not convenient.

Not only have I used the Boob Tape to keep necklines from slipping too low, I've used it to keep bra straps under shirts very often. And it comes in quite handy when the hem falls out of one leg of your pants and you're too cheap/lazy/forgetful to take them somewhere to have them fixed. At some point, I realized I could use that stuff between buttons on button-down shirts. Button-down shirts are not Hootie McBoob's friend. There is ALWAYS a gap that shows everyone on one side of me what color bra I'm wearing that day. But with the boob tape, no gaps!

How I managed to run out and not buy any more for a while now is beyond me. I guess my wardrobe just hasn't needed it. But if I want to wear these new shirts, I'm going to need some. I'm going to need like four pieces every time I wear one of those shirts. But it'll be worth it. Oh, and Muffy, you might want to check out some of their other stuff for your turkey problem at the gym.

15 April 2008

Random Tuesday Night Drinking.

Oh, how I love spontaneity! KayGee (I see you!) called while I was driving home from work tonight and we decided to go out and have a few drinks. It was entirely too windy to sit on the deck or go for a walk, so what other choice did we have?

I honestly can't remember the last time just the two of us hung out. It was so totally lovely to get to talk and have some cheap drinks. I haven't been to Rudolph's for Happy Hour in ages. God, they have some good Happy Hour grub. And it's really great to know I can work late, go home, change and catch the bus and still get two Happy Hour (two-for-one!) drinks.

We're going to try to do this more often, but you know how that always goes. But it is Spring and everything is different in the Spring, you know?

14 April 2008

What the fuck, Twins?

I get in the shower and the score is 9-5. I expected the game to be over when I got back to the TV however many minutes later, and instead the stank-so-far-this-season Tigers have roared (get it, roared? HA!) back to make the score 10-9. What the fuck did you do, Matt Guerrier?

So, that's not what I was going to blog about today. But damn, y'all. I just had to get that out. I suppose it's fine, 'cause I was going to be all over the place with this thing anyway. And I know y'all don't ever expect that from me.

There's a quirky perk at the new job. There is an industrial component to the business and there is a shop out past our fancy new breakroom (which is indeed new, but absolutely not fancy). It reminds me of the machine shed at the home place (someday I'll write a blog post about the weird farm language I sometimes speak). I was out to lunch with my boss today to debrief and whatnot and I mentioned the fact that I needed to find someone somewhere to get the cap off the coolant tank in my car, as it was impossibly stuck and my "low coolant" light was on. She said, "Oh, just ask one of the shop guys. They'll do it for you."

This thought had crossed my mind, but it's not their job or anything. And I needed to get my oil changed anyway, so I was just going to stop at a quickie place and have them do everything. But she told me who I should ask and all that. I should mention that the guy at Lyndale Auto Service (I think that's the name. It's at 28th and Lyndale) this morning was kind of a dick. He's like, yeah it's stuck but I can't help you. We're too busy and you're going to need a ... tool of some fashion.

Wrong, dickface! I just needed a big, strong man. The guy who did it just put a little brute force behind it and had it off in seconds. Then he offered to put the antifreeze in for me! But I can do that myself. It was totally like having my dad at work. AWESOME. Also, guess where I'll never, ever go to get work done on my car? I know you're busy, dude. I'm going to be late for work because of this. But you could have been a little nicer. You're in the customer service biz, you know? Anyway, the shop guys are my new heroes (even though the first one I talked to was also kind of a dick).

The job seemed a bit less hateful today. The helpfulness of my new heroes, a free lunch and PAYDAY probably helped. What a joy it is to be earning money and actively contributing to society again. Okay, maybe that's a bit much. But it's nice to have worked two days and have more money than what I would have gotten for a whole week of unemployment. Now I can buy stuff! Like tickets to Rock the Garden and Arborfest. And sports bras and makeup and new clothes that actually fit me! Oh, it's so exciting.

Let's not forget the weather. It's supposed to be 72 tomorrow? Hot fucking damn, y'all. It will be an epic struggle for me to get my ass to the gym when I could very well be sitting on the deck, enjoying cocktails and listening to the Twins. I don't see this ending in the gym's favor, especially since my knee hurts tonight. Stupid constantly hyperextending knees. Why can't you be normal?

13 April 2008

Oh, HELL NO.

I hate, hate, hate reality TV. Hate. It. Go out of my way to avoid it and all that stuff. And you want to know why? Because it gives the world shows like this: Deion & Pilar Prime Time Love.

Oh my God, y'all, I hate Deion Sanders so fucking much. You don't even know. And what the fuck is the Oxygen network doing giving that fool a show? Did we as a society learn nothing after letting that man make the worst album ever? I can't believe that shit is listed on Amazon. Fuck you, Hammer, for getting that douche involved in the music industry.

Because I'm only a marginally horrible person, I won't embed the video in this post so you have to watch it. But I am enough of a bitch that I'll provide you a link to "Must Be the Money," and you know you're going to watch it just so you can see how bad it is. And it is BAD. Sorry, suckers.

PS: I was only flipping to Oxygen during the commercials in the Twins game because Brown Sugar is on and I like that movie despite the fact that I do not like Taye Diggs. Mos Def totally makes up for him, though. I do not normally watch Chick TV, as it makes me stabby.

11 April 2008

I was going to write all this stuff.

About being a freak about terms of endearment. 'Cause The Boy I Currently Like has started busting them out (darlin', sweetheart and others), but because I'm a freak, calling him anything other than his name is a HUGE DEAL TO ME. After six months of ... dating or whatever it is you might call what we've been doing, I can't even come up with a better blog nickname for him than "The Boy I Currently Like." Lord knows I can't come up with something cute to call him to his face.

And about how I don't actively hate my job after this first full week, but I certainly don't like it and I never will. It's amazing how much your brain can be fried by even relatively mindless work when you have to do it for nine hours a day for a whole week after not working for two months.

And about how tough it is to have enough of a life so that I have to go to two parties in one night. And how seriously I take my job as DJ for one of those parties. Party starts at 9 and goes until bar time? How about 26 hours of music? And I cut it down by like, five hours.

OH! And how totally fucking stoked I am that F-Bomb is pitching on Sunday.

And probably about other stuff, too, but I can't remember what any of it is. I'm tired and already a little drunk. And y'all? Star Wars is on, so this is all you get. Do or do not, y'all. There is no try.

Suckers!

09 April 2008

This is why I have a camera on my phone, right?

So why do I never use it? On my way home from my crapass job (still hate it! maybe more than yesterday!), I saw this U-Haul with an odd picture on the side of it showcasing something or other about some kind of "adventure" aspect of Oklahoma. But what the fuck is that thing?

After examining the side of the truck for a few minutes at a stoplight I realized it was a radar image of severe thunderstorm and a tornado. Nice! Yes, U-Haul, that's really going to bring the tourism dollars to Oklahoma. Who doesn't love severe weather? By the time I remembered I had a camera on my cell phone and fished it out of my purse, it was entirely too late. Damn you, plumbing truck! Now no one will believe me.

So glad it's Hump Day. 'Cause Hump Day is also yoga day and god damn do I feel good after that class. I think I can even soldier through this fucking weather after yoga last night. Plus, I have plans with The Boy I Currently Like tomorrow night. We're totally having corn dogs (veggie for me) and tots for dinner. I swear, sometimes I do make good food for us. Or, you know, I intend to at some point. Maybe I should stop asking what he wants for dinner and just make whatever the fuck I feel like making and he'll just have to eat it because, um, dude? I made dinner for you.

I had this big plan to see if I could trick him into eating a veggie corn dog, because I think they taste just like regular corn dogs. I mean, if you're making frozen corn dogs at home, why not make veggie corn dogs? You totally save a bunch in fat and calories. Obviously, a deep fried fair corn dog is a different animal entirely and I'd never substitute a veggie corn dog in that case. But anyway, I told him of my idea on Saturday, so ... yeah. I wasn't sure how I would be able to tell them apart on sight anyway. It was a fun idea in my mind, anyway. And honestly, isn't that what matters?

And shit, then it's Friday and I've got parties and no work for TWO WHOLE DAYS! And then the bosses are gone the whole following week. Awesome, y'all. I wonder how badly I'd have to fuck up to get them to say, "Hey, this just isn't working out," so I can go back on unemployment. I suppose I'll find out when I'm left to my own devices/mind reading next week.

After proofing this, I feel like if I was listening to myself say all this shit out loud, I'd be saying, "Holy shit. Has she taken a breath?" I like writing the way I talk, y'all. Suck it!

08 April 2008

Guess what I'm doing right now?

Okay, well, not right now actually. I'm blogging right now. And I'm not even taking a break from said activity. That's all neither here nor there, really. What I was doing and am now finished doing? Working. At 7:30. PM. At home. On my fourth day.

My boss popped in to the office at 4:59 today with a bunch of things that needed to be copied. She was going to take them home to read them and then compare notes with me early tomorrow morning. Um, not before 8:00, lady. There are some deadlines hidden in there that might be coming up very soon and so we need to know about them.

Do I stay late? Bring the work home? Wait until I get in tomorrow and potentially still be working when the boss lady wants to compare notes? I've already been yelled at and quite frankly, I don't like being yelled at. Even when I know I'm being yelled at for something completely retarded.

So, I bring the work home. And I spend 10 minutes finding said deadlines. I considered e-mailing my boss to tell her what I found, but that would be opening a door I want to keep closed for as long as I can. If I indicate I'm willing or able to work outside regular business hours, these people will take advantage of me. And I do not want that to happen.

After just a few days at this place and getting trained in on things, I'm starting to get the feeling that these people are of the ilk who make everything a HUGE DEAL so they seem like they're so busy and such good workers and so fucking important. Pardon me while I roll my eyes out of my head. They've made all the stuff I've done thus far seem like it's going to be hard or something. And it isn't. Hence why I think I'll be bored and hate the job. In addition to the other reasons I'll hate the job.

Oh well. It's temporary. And I guess it's good I had to "work" tonight. Can't work out because I've got some pulled muscle or something in the middle of my back. I was nearly in tears after working out last night and I just did cardio. I just have to remember that it's better to take one night off and get a little rest than to push it and end up having to go to the doctor and/or take a couple of weeks off. So, I'm drinking instead. Yay!

07 April 2008

Oh, honestly. Why don't you just give up?

It's been two months since I worked out in the evening, save for maybe one yoga class. It's April, for God's sake. But has the crowd dissipated? Not very fucking much. Look people, I admire your dedication. But I'm sick of you being here!

Maybe it's just because the weather is still so shitty and people aren't running and shit outside yet. Whatever the reason, I really expected to see a smaller crowd when I got there tonight. Guess I have to wait another month or two yet. Big sigh.

Work seemed not as bad today, even though I got yelled at, along with my coworkers. Seems we fucked something up on Friday and I should have known to do something that I didn't know I was supposed to do and I only might be asked to do in the future. Um, sure. I'll be making a note of that. I just checked and "mind reading" is not listed under the "Other Skills" heading of my resume. I'll see if I can't get on that, though.

It feels good to be back to a routine. Saying that kind of makes me sad, but a routine keeps me in check for the most part. And when you step out of that routine life suddenly feels a lot more fun. You know?

05 April 2008

Wasted Saturday II: Deck Bloggin'.

Just like last Saturday, this one wasn't really wasted. But honestly, this cannot become a habit. Fortunately, my partner-in-crime agreed. Going to bed at 7:00 or so in the morning probably isn't generally good for you, but it's likely worse when you're sick. Gee, I wonder wonder how we got sick in the first place.

I actually did feel a bit like I'd wasted my day when I finally went out to my car to head home this afternoon. Holy shit! It's gorgeous! Damn. I could have walked around the lake after I went to yoga this morning. If I'd gone to yoga this morning instead of sleeping through it. But never fear, Dear Readers. As I type these words, I am enjoying my first glass of wine on the deck for 2008. And the wine seems somehow a bit more delicious. Damn. I should have my sunglasses on.

This wasted Saturday has actually been rather productive, especially considering I didn't really start doing anything until after 3:00. I've rolled my 401k over to an IRA, I showered (yes, this counts as being productive) and I'm currently doing laundry. I think Macho Man is on his way over to drink with me on the deck. No one else I called could make it. Yeah, I should probably be watching the Final Four, but I don't so much care at the moment. It'll be too cold to sit out here soon enough and then I'll go in. Plus, I can see the score from the screen door if I stand up.

A day like today makes my potentially soul-crushing job seem considerably more bearable. And really, it seems more likely today that I am just overreacting from the tumultuousness of my life from the last couple of months. I'm flexible. I'll be able to adjust. Even if it is bad, I've got yoga. I've got my deck and wine. I've got baseball. I've got walks around the lake. I've got my friends. I've got wasted Saturdays.

04 April 2008

Talking myself down from the ledge.

On Wednesday, I thought my new job might bore me in fairly short order. Today I started thinking that it might make me absolutely miserable. I've managed to calm down a bit after a couple of glasses of wine, but there was more than one point today where I was nearly in tears.

I'm probably overreacting like a motherfucker. I mean, I didn't work for two months. And the previous three plus years? I didn't work much then, either. Honestly, I really can't remember the last job I had where they really gave a shit what I did as long as I got my work done. It's been 10 years since I worked a real corporate job. Yes, I'm in the corporate sector. I hate myself enough, so you needn't hate me more.

So where was I? Oh, the two-month "vacation" which came after a few years of not having much to do at work and where no one seemed to care one way or another what I was doing. I'm also sick and even when starting a new job is a relief because, hey, you're working! It's still stressful. Oh, and the hormones are probably still in play because my boobies hurt so bad I skipped the gym tonight so as to avoid any unnecessary jostling. I'm trying to remind myself of all of these things and talk myself down after today.

What has me so freaked out? Absolutely stupid shit. My supervisor is apparently very particular about office etiquette. Oh my God. I was eating oatmeal at my desk this morning when I got in. Look, I can't get up early enough to eat at home. I have to take my thyroid meds on an empty stomach and that means waiting an hour to eat after I take them. Well, it's time for me to leave for work by the time an hour has passed. I'm sorry. Yes, I'm aware the break room is being created and when it's done, I will totally eat there. I've been living on unemployment for two months and you're not paying me all that much, so I'm not going to go out for lunch every day. Also? I'm trying to not eat shitty take out food. Where do you suggest I eat my lunch or breakfast that I brought with me? My car? I mean, I guess I can. So you're not a lunch person. I'm not you. I need to eat. I'm terribly, terribly sorry.

You don't like iPods, either? Oh great. I mean, you even admit that it is a generational thing. So, you need absolute quiet to read. I don't. I can't concentrate without background noise. I never have been able to do that. I studied in the hall of my dorm. I avoided the library like the plague. If it's too quiet, I look up or get distracted by every single noise. And that's how quiet it is in this office. But I should be eavesdropping on the people around me? I suppose that's a good reason not to be listening to music so quiet you can still hear everything going on around you?

And the HR rep was apparently mistaken when she said it was okay to wear jeans on Friday. We're back to the unemployment and not paying me thing again. I'm working on creating the wardrobe. I can live with that, I guess. I can probably live with everything. It's just an adjustment. But God, I just had this horrible feeling of foreshadowing today. The work she wants me start doing on Monday? Tedious. Mind-numbing. Most places I interviewed asked if I might get bored doing work with data or whatever. Yeah, I might have, but it wouldn't have been nearly the kind of boring that seems to be on the horizon for me at this place. Why on earth did they want me?

But hey -- I have a job. I mean, fucking Paul Douglas got canned. I should be glad I'm working. I should be glad I'm working. I should be glad I'm working. (If I say it enough, it'll be true, right?) Maybe the ridiculousness of corporate America will be good blog fodder. Or my impending alcoholism will be good blog fodder. Whatever.

02 April 2008

First Day.

I made it through my first day back in the working world. As it turns out, the commute doesn't seem like it will be too bad. I should only be leaving about 15 minutes earlier than I had to leave for my old job. And coming home? That seems to be essentially the same as of today. But instead of being stuck on an overcrowded bus for nearly an hour, I was in my car, driving fast and singing along to the songs Mary Lucia was playing on The Current. For about 25 minutes.

There was little easing me in. I got the "orientation" and some stuff to read in the morning, but after lunch I was working. There is a lot for me to learn, but I fear I could end up getting bored fairly easily. But that is a bridge I'm going to try to avoid thinking about until it comes time to cross it.

The people seem nice. Everyone has asked if I prefer to be called "Jessica" or "Jess." One of my coworkers was out, as were the bosses. But the bosses both called to welcome me and tell me yet again how excited they were about me taking the job. God, I hope I don't disappoint them. My coworker who was there is quite the cutie. But he's young. We had an exchange this afternoon:

Cutie Coworker: "You're under 25, right?"
Jess: *hearty laughter* "Um no, I'm not. Not at all. I'm 34. But thanks!"
Cutie Coworker: "Seriously? I thought for sure you were and I wouldn't be the youngest person working here anymore."

I'm actually not working tomorrow, as I had a couple of previously-scheduled appointments and I'd probably only be in for half the day in the middle of the day. Since I had to start on a moment's notice, it'll be nice to be kind of eased in with a day on, a day off, a day on and then the weekend.

It's especially helpful because I am getting sick AGAIN. The Boy I Currently like is also coming down with a cold. He felt sick when he woke up this morning, but I didn't feel like I was coming down with yet another cold until I was at yoga tonight. Clearly, since he started feeling sick first, he was the one who got me sick, yes? He would have you believe I got him sick because I never really got better. He is wrong, though. WRONG!

01 April 2008

Rejoining the ranks.

I took the job. I start tomorrow. I'm feeling pretty meh about the whole thing at the moment, though I'm not entirely sure feeling meh and the job are all that related. It seems highly likely that my emotional state could be mostly hormonal, 'cause I'm also mildy zitty and my boobies are mighty sore, y'all.

Since the offer on Friday and my decision today, I got them to increase the salary offer and I've been told off the record that some fairly sweeping benefit changes are on the horizon. The department head called me yesterday, to tell me again how impressive I was in my interview and how very much they wanted me to work for them. That call was probably as important as the salary increase in making my decision. I've never been offered a job and then had my boss-to-be call me to follow up. I've never had people from the potential job telling me time and again how impressed they were and how excited they were about me coming on board.

So I'm not completely stoked about it. Big deal. The Future Mrs. Dirk made a good point -- any time she's ever been really super excited about a job, it's ended up being some awful, soul-sucking affair. Now that I think about it, my experience hasn't been all that different. Perhaps going in with very little expectation and a a bit of trepidation might turn out to be a good thing.

I spent part of today trying to pad my work wardrobe. I hit the clearance racks at Macy's and Old Navy, where it looked like they were going out of business. Hey, I'm glad to hear you're getting a lot of new shit in tomorrow, and I'd love to come back. But alas, I can't because I have to work. From the looks of things, I have enough to get by for a few weeks. There should be a paycheck coming in before I get too crazy with spending money.

It's probably time to get some sort of celebratory drinking event scheduled, huh?

Um, also? Thank you all for being so supportive during this craptacular time of my life. I can't believe I'm such a selfish whore and forgot to include this when I wrote the post originally. Apologies. I owe you all a great deal.