Wednesday, August 31, 2005


There are no words.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Office "Politics"

So I try not to blog about work, because of that whole you can be fired thing. But as I sit here today doing something that while in no way wrong, is still going to piss a LOT of people off, I can't help but ponder the office in general. Because I have been in several offices, and I have gone out for many, many after work drinks with people who told me about their offices, and I have come to the following conclusion:

Offices are where The Crazy meets The Drama and they hole up in a storage closet and have an overabundance of offspring. (The other place The Crazy and The Drama have met and taken up permanent residence is inside Tom Cruise's head. I'm just saying).

And you know exactly who the offspring of The Crazy and The Drama are. There's Inexcusably Paranoid ("They're out to get me"), there's Entirely Too Attached to Something That Was Created With Microsoft Applications ("That is MY spreadsheet"), there's Seriously Has Only the Vaguest Relationship With Reality ("Hi... Do you work here?"), and sometimes even the Actually Criminally Insane (of which my office, in the past, has had several, including Robbed A Bank On Her Lunch Hour and Stabbed Her Lover With A Letter Opener In The Elevator, and LORD people, I wish I was kidding).

Every office has their share of these people. The completely batty- Fill The Commissioners' Coffee Pot In the Toilet Woman, or Pees in His Bosses Plant Every Night After His Boss Goes Home Guy (and the punchline of that story? It was a hanging plant). There are those people who run around like they are hyped up on cocaine, speed, redbull, AND have a caffeine IV in them who act as though every decision carries the weight of life or death on it- "What do you MEAN you haven't read the e-mail yet? I SENT IT LIKE FOUR WHOLE MINUTES AGO AND IF YOU DON'T RESPOND HOW WILL WE KNOW IF YOU CAN MAKE IT TO HAVE CAKE ON TUESDAY?" Honey, listen- you don't need the cake. You need a valium.

And then there are the people that annoy you even though you don't know who they are. That person that NEVER, EVER flushes in the second stall? I mean, seriously people- there are three toilets that flush AUTOMATICALLY, if you can't muster the strength to push the button, for the LOVE of GOD use one of those! Those who wash their dishes in the sink and don't clean up after themselves? The person who nukes the fish in the microwave so the entire office reeks? Or worse- the person who nukes something that smells so amazing that you instantly crave it, and nothing you could possibly buy is good enough, and you start wondering how to cause enough commotion at the other end of the hall for him to get up and investigate so you can sneak into his office and eat his lunch? Or the worst- the one who comes out after one of the above and sprays an air freshener so revolting that it gives you a huge headache and makes you tear up every time you walk in the hall.

And this is the same no matter where you work. I mean, wouldn't you think that if you are what is known as a "Sandwich Artist", and this is your job, you would know the difference between roast beef and pastrami?? And, failing that, that you would at least be able to WRAP a WRAP the right way? Don't think that. Because it isn't true, and you (like me), will probably end up eating a pastrami wrap two seconds away from exploding all over you.

I once worked in an office where the receptionist answered every morning phone call in an overbright, sing songy, high pitched voice by saying "Top of the Mornin to ya!". Every. Goddamn. Phone call. And y'all, SHE WAS TOTALLY NOT IN ANY WAY IRISH. By about the tenth call it took all I had not to walk over to her desk and strangle her to death with the phone cord. At that same office a co-worker and I engaged in cubicle wars. This was accomplished by throwing various things over the cubicle wall and seeing how long it took for the other person to get fed up and retaliate. If it took too long, things escalated quickly. We never took into account the fact that the bosses office was right across the room and he had glass walls. I can only imagine his general confusion and then amusement as things began flying between the cubes- paperclip, paperclip, penny, tape dispenser, staple remover, stapler, Wait, is that a... paperweight? Did you just throw a PAPERWEIGHT into another cube without in ANY WAY looking where you were throwing it?

"Don't worry, boss. I was just returning it. It cracked my skull open last week."

But you get the picture. We spend more of our awake time in the office than pretty much anywhere else. Yet the office is generally not a real fun place to be all the time, and it weighs on people. And all the latent Crazy mixes with all the latent Drama and seriously? Shit just happens. I suppose it kind of gives us something to laugh about.

But Tom Cruise? He has NO excuse.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I Have A Dog!

I have a dog now.

(Mom, pick yourself off the floor).

(You too, Kate).

Allow me to explain. But like all explanations, this cannot be simple. And like all blog entries, it starts with me losing my damn mind.

I have no idea what is up with me today. I am in a really good mood for no reason at ALL, especially since my head is a little blurry from the wine Kate and I drank on the balcony last night and they keep expecting me to do work here. You know, at... work. Anyway. As annoying as my job can be, and even though I do not post much job stuff here, I will say that in the past week or so I have:

- Been told by someone when I asked if she had gotten the revisions to the budget: "Child, I am so old I can't remember one day to the next."

- Been given a tomato. By my boss.

- Been given an end of the day assignment that consisted of: "Read this book. We will do this tomorrow." The book? The Magic in Tea Leaves: How to Read the Future in Tea Leaves.

So why should I have a mind? No one else does.

But ANYWAY, I was sitting at my desk eating cherry Jell-O and coming to the conclusions that 1. I don't like Jell-O, and 2. I don't like anything artificially cherry flavored, which 3. Made this a terrible choice on my part for a number of reasons, and 4. I still have 4 containers of this crap at home to eat. And maybe it was the Jell-O mixing with the wine and the Crazy, but I decided that I really, really, REALLY want a tiny little purse dog.

No, really.

I want one that I can stick in a tote bag and take to law school with me and it will be SO CUTE. Except I do not want a chihuahua, which seem to be the purse dogs de rigueur, so I decided that instead of actually doing work I was going to research the type of purse dog that I wanted. And THEN, to make a TERRIBLE IDEA all THAT MUCH WORSE, (much like adding the detested cherry flavor to the already much-disliked Jell-O), I decided that I would probably just get him from the pound anyway so I should go look on their website for instantly adoptable purse dogs.

They do not have any purse dogs. And I can't get a dog for myriad reasons, the main one being that I am already gone from the apartment so much that I got a roommate to help keep the cat company, and while roommate is absolutely wonderful about playing with the cat and feeding the cat and blogging with a cat on her lap, she... she doesn't need a dog, people. And neither do I. But then...

I am going to get serious here for a minute. I discovered Guardian Angels. This is fantastic, people. I cannot afford a dog in just about every way you can not afford a dog, but I can totally afford to do this and I am totally doing this. Meet my dog. This is Winston. And what really gets me is Winston's "story":

"They call me Winston. I used to have a home, but my family moved and left me behind. I don't understand why, because I'm a good, obedient guy, and I really try hard to please. I'm friendly and easygoing, and I'd love to find a family with a kid or two to play with."

That is NOT RIGHT, Y'ALL. Just NOT OKAY AT ALL. Pets are not toys. They are not, as much as I seem to be acting like they are above, whims. Pets are family. And if it was at all possible I would run right to the pound and adopt Winston and spend about the next ten years hugging him and telling him it is not his fault that his previous owners were heartless, evil, irresponsible people who never deserved him in the first place in the hopes of fending off some of the emotional damage that you know being abandoned has done to that poor, innocent, ADORABLE dog.

But it's not possible, so right now I am just going to make sure that Winston has enough food and water and vet care and hoping that the S.P.C.A. has enough money to employ enough people to pat him and play with him until someone comes along and does what I cannot do.

I got Winston. But there's a lot more of them out there. And before I start to sound too much like an "Adopt a Child" informercial, I am going to go.

And give Jake a REALLY big hug when I get home.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Sometimes I Give Advice

A friend of mine e-mailed earlier mentioning that she was ending a relationship tonight and did any of her girls have any advice? She then e-mailed me and told me that I should make my response to her a blog entry, and I thought, "Hey! Free Entry!", as in, Entry That Is Totally Already Typed, and decided to go for it. So here is my breakup advice:

"Well... good for you. Really, I mean it is good that you are taking matters into you own hands are are able to do it with a semblance of sanity and this time it does NOT involve a princess movie with jewelry porn and K and I trying to convince you to break up while we are all in the car together.

Advice? Hmm. Since I am REALLY, REALLY bad with break ups, I will pretty much tell you things that A. I Always Plan on Doing, or B. Keep Swearing To Myself I Will Do Next Time, but most likely C. Have Never Actually Done Successfully. So here goes.

1. Make it short. Forget the sweet. Avoid a long drawn out emotional nonsense conversation. Avoid making inane excuses, because he will argue against them, and you will really have no good argument back because those aren't the actual, you know, reasons, and eventually you will either feel totally stupid or you will become unable to resist the urge to just shout: "FINE. YOU ARE RIGHT. IT IS NOT ME. IT IS NOT THE TIMING, OR MY "OWN ISSUES". IT IS YOU. IT IS THE FACT THAT YOU NOW VAGUELY REPULSE ME. GO NOW." This? This is not good break up technique.

2. Neutral ground. Or his place, if you are confident. Sounds silly, but if it gets clingy, you want the option to leave. Also, preferably someplace without a bed. Even if you don't want to sleep with him, you probably will, and that will be bad.

3. If he cries, it is mean to roll your eyes, leave the room, get a box of tissues, throw them at his head, and snap at him to "Pull [him]self together, [you'll] be in the next room". So, you probably shouldn't do that.

4. Just stand your ground, don't take shit, and number one, DON'T FEEL GUILTY. People don't all love each other. They don't always love each other back. You were honest and up front with him. Everyone has the right to NOT be with someone they do not want to be with. Unfortunately, you don't automatically have the right TO be with someone, if that person doesn't agree. In this particular relationship equation, he loses. Simple as that. Yes, it sucks. Yes, you are sorry he feels bad. But that is life, and you are not wrong. Just try to remember that, and it'll be ok.

Monday, August 15, 2005

You Shouldn't Really Leave Me Alone Too Often

**Disclaimer: This entry makes very, very little linear sense. It is more stream of consciousness, and more "stream" than "consciousness". Just letting y'all know.**

So I did not go to the beach this weekend, namely because of this conversation:

Me: "The good news (hack, hack, cough) is that (COUGH COOOOUGH) because I haven't been feeling well, I haven't (HAAACK) smoked in almost a week!"

E: "The bad news is, your lungs are trying to escape through your chest".

Hmm. He had a point. And I was siiiick. I mean, these were not gentle little "Oh woe is me" coughs. These were the kind of coughs where I sounded like a great dane. A protective great dane whose house is being broken into and whose owner is being stabbed. I wasn't aware that I could make noises like these, I tend to be somewhere around a tenor and last week I could have sung bass for the opera. And since it really isn't fun to be out sick, and its even less fun to be out with someone who is sick, I did everyone a favor and stayed home.

Friday was my day off and I was sick, but also, bored, so I decided to cook dinner for myself, E and Kate. So I went to the grocery store and bought all the groceries and I was so excited and domestic and I had the recipe on my computer and then....

My Computer Died.

Now, you already know that I firmly believe that computers are run by gnomes, and these gnomes are generally angry, but this gnome? The gnome that runs my computer? Is PISSED. And my computer? Is dead. This? This is not good, folks. This is especially not good when I am sick and alone for the weekend because Kate and E went out of town.

Friday night was fun, I hung out with SuperGirl. And can I just say- SuperGirl is awesome. First off, SuperGirl awesome because we can drink several bottles of wine, then move onto tequila, THEN move onto beer, talking the whole time, and then suddenly realize the SUN IS RISING and it is six o'clock in the damn morning. But SuperGirl is also awesome because she has the most developed sense of Girl Code of anyone I have ever met and she is absolutely incredible with the loyalty and the sensing when people are being complete assholes and not falling for the BS. And although all of this is in reference to a situation that ended months ago, I still totally appreciate the back up, even if at the time I wasn't aware of it.

(And on a side note, Friday night we happened to watch part of the documentary on the BTK killer. (Because what is a Friday night without serial killers?) And... and... ok people, you know of my love affair with google. But even I couldn't believe this one. The cops? Caught the BTK killer by googling him. They GOOGLED him. DNA evidence? Failed. State of the art police techniques? Failed. Google???? Google worked. My worship is complete).

So anyway, I went to bed around 7 am Saturday morning and slept most of the day. And then Saturday there was a marathon of Little House on the Prairie. And I have to admit (well, first of all, no. No, I don't have to admit this, but I am going to admit this, because the whole purpose of this blog seems to be to embarrass myself for the entertainment of close friends and a handful of complete strangers. I don't know why.), but ANYWAY, I am admitting here that I? I am not emotionally stable enough for Little House on the Prairie. I am fully aware that it is preachy campy overwritten badly acted nonsense, and I am also equally aware that I spent about two hours SOBBING HYSTERICALLY Saturday night. It was so bad that I had to turn off the marathon and force myself to watch Comedy Central because I literally was so devastated by Little House on the Prairie that I was afraid for my mental condition if I watched any more. Then I watched a horror movie on Sci Fi.

Y'all? I should NOT watch horror movies when I am all by myself. I'm just saying.

So after cleaning the entire apartment, doing 5 loads of laundry, and watching another 2 hours of comedy central, I stopped freaking out at every shadow and blaming the cat for sneaking up on me and was able to go to bed.

Which brings us to Sunday, when S came over to attempt to mollify the pissed off gnome, because this is what he does as his JOB. This is pretty much how that went:

S: "Oh, ok, there is an application that is crapping out. We'll just find that by booting your computer in safe mode. So here... damn. Missed it. So... damn. Missed it. So... WHERE THE HELL IS THE SAFE MODE SCREEN. Ok. Jesus. There is is.

Me: "Is it fixed yet?"

S: "No. Now let me just look this up and... whoa. You actually have something completely brand new on your computer. Even google has never heard of it."

Me: "What? No. Not possible. Google knows everything. If google doesn't know it it must be evil. GET RID OF THE EVIL".

S: "I am working on it, just delete, and... there. Should be all.... Fuck."

Me: "Fuck?! That means... It isn't fixed. At ALL."

S: "Yes, I am aware that it isn't fixed... But this is a different problem, so I will just fixed that and... hmmm."

Me: "Hmm?? Hmm is not good. Hmmm is only a very small step up from "fuck". You? Are supposed to be with the fixing, not with the "hmm-ing".

S: "Yes. Well. See, you know how before it had a failure of some sort then went to the blue screen of death?"

Me: "Yes."

S: "Well.... well now it just goes right to the blue screen of death."

Me: "That is not FIXED. That is WORSE. GNOME IS ANGRY."

S: "Yes, well, we can just reload Windows. Are you running XP Home?"

Me: "Sure."

S: "No, not 'sure', is that your system or not?"

Me: (blank stare).

S: "Do you have an install disk?"

Me: "Yes! Here!"

S: "What is it?"

Me: "No idea! It's yours!"

S: "Christ. No wonder the gnome hates you. Ok, so we just do this and... Gah!"

Me: "GAH!?!?! Gah is worse that hmm! WHAT DOES GAH MEAN??? Oh, for the love of... don't tell me. Just Don't. Tell. Me. I will just operate in safe mode."

S: "Um... about that. Gah? Gah kind of means.... yourcomputerdoesn'truninsafemodeeither."

Me: "My computer doesn't... wait, WHAT? It ran in safe mode BEFORE YOU MESSED WITH IT. WHAT DID YOU DO?"

S: "I... I don't know. I will research this particular flaw and get back to you".

Me: (weeps).

So my computer is broken, which means I may be spotty with the updating, until S can do more research and determine exactly what sort of bribes it is going to take to make the gnome go off strike and do his damn job.

Any ideas out there?

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

If I Whine Enough, Will You Kill Me?

Ugh. This week? This week is not good, folks. And because I can, allow me to bitch here.

1. My major project at work, one that is VERY public and VERY large and that I have been in charge of for over a year is coming to fruition, which, good, except... not. Because not only does it require about 6 hours of my day now, it is also not technically my job any longer. And I have a really bad feeling once next week is over, everyone is going to come to the realization that it is no longer my job and freak the hell out, because it is becoming ever more apparent that I am the only one who can actually DO most of the necessary work. This does not bode well.

2. I'm SIIIIIIICK :(. Also, whiny. Apparently my body did not react well to being up until 5 or 7 am every morning last weekend (I know.... but the beach was so much fun) and then waking up at 10 am to start drinking. And there is sickness and coughy-ness and stuffed-uppedness and PAIN, and I am not HAPPY, thanks.

3. Tomorrow is Dentist: Part 2: Take 2, and all I have to say is that the poor remaining bits of gums that I have left don't stand a chance what with the stellar combination of Sharp Drill and Violent Sneezes I have going on here.

4. Summer? It is about over. And while I am looking forward to class (yes, I kind of am), especially because I MISS MY LAW SCHOOL PEOPLE, I am also not looking forward to the end of summer, because then I will MISS MY BEACH PEOPLE. Sigh. This is seeming to be a trend with me, the end of summer melancholy. But seriously? Beach people? You rocked this summer and I absolutely love you all. Thanks so much for all the phenomenal memories, I'll never forget this summer! (Well, at least the parts of it I remember ;)).

Ok, enough with the whining and the sap, if there has been one bright spot this week it has been the wonderful e-mails that have been whinging around the internet. First off, I unfortunately cannot republish the ones between my ex-roommate, current roommate, and self, because they are far too snarky. However, I CAN publish this gem, received from S this week:

From: S
To: Citycat
Re: The brilliance of (Company name withheld to protect the Stupid)... evident down to the tiniest detail.

Okay, everyone in my office just got this email from the building manager, regarding the employee picnic taking place tomorrow:

"Due to the Heat, I have asked the event staff for Saturday’s picnic to relocate events from the ballfield to locations nearer the building. This is where I need your help please if your parked in the small parking lot in front of the building please move your car so we can use that space."

Now I will leave aside the glaring misuse of "your"and the odd parsing of ideas into sentences, because something more impressive is at work here. Reread that if you need to, and then give it a moment to sink in.


Because of the heat, (Company) is relocating its employee picnic to a parking lot.

Hee. Always good to know that no matter how hard we fight, someone is out there defying all logic and working hard to keep everyone focused on uselesness.

Have a good week, hopefully I'll be funnier later in the week when I dont (a). Physically feel like I am dying, and (b). Emotionally think this wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Thursday, August 04, 2005


Ok. This is far, far, FAR too cute.


I want one.


Of course, this may be coming from the fact that my cat coughed up a hairball in my bed this morning. Snuppy would never do that, because Snuppy is the Wonder Puppy.

Ok, I am a little obsessed. But seriously, y'all? A morning that started out with a dentist appointment that SHOULD have happened, but did NOT, because the dentist people are EVIL, and then proceeded into my getting lost while on FOOT in my VERY OWN neighborhood, cannot help but be uncontroversially brightened by a picture of Snuppy in the Express.

Still though, the day can only get better. First The Peanut and I are taking advantage of Restaurant Week. For those of you outside the DC area, restaurant week is a week where all the really, REALLY expensive snooty restaurants offer pri fixe menus for quite cheap. And the Peanut also chose a restuarant where bottles of wine are half off. This is wonderful.

Then I am heading to the beach with King and his friends. Thursday night Drinking Club is alive and well in Dewey.

I would type more, like about how TERRIBLY BAD this week has been, but I do not type about work because I would like to not be fired. So just know it was a bad week and I am out here like a bat out of hell with no turning back.

Happy weekend, y'all!!!!

Monday, August 01, 2005

To Sleep, but Not to Dream... Please???

Ok, so I have always had a problem with sleeping. Namely, I've never really done it. I think my mother is still harboring resentment against me from when I was a baby and utterly refused not just napping but sleeping through the night. At all. Apparently I was so stubborn about the not sleeping thing I would occasionally fall asleep in my food, only to wake up and protest LOUDLY when my parents assumed (silly parents) that passing out in my dinner meant I was sleepy. As I grew older, I never really got in the habit of sleeping all that regularly, throughout elementary school I used to lay in the dark and listen to my walkman for hours, and in high school I was usually on the phone. (My boyfriend at the time was in college).

So I am not surprised that I suffer from insomnia now. Generally I am ok with that. I have discovered that Sunday nights (or Monday nights, if I have had Monday off) are the worst as far as the not sleeping thing goes. At first I was all upset by this, but now I'm kind of used to it. No point is lying there stressing out about not sleeping when you know you aren't going to sleep. I now pet the cat a LOT on Sunday nights. The cat is fond of this plan. I? Not so much.

However, I am FAR FONDER of the plan where I pet the cat than I am of whatever the Hell happened last night. I was reading, it was getting later, Kate kept visiting to check on me and the air conditioning- ("Not Sleeping?".... "Nope"). But I was getting tired, so I thought maybe I would just lie down and....


Ok, y'all. I dream. I mean, I dream. Vividly, and often. But last night? ARE YOU KIDDING ME, SUBCONSCIOUS??? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?? I have no idea where the dreams came from. They were not... pleasant, to put it mildly. And I kept waking up and freaking out and really pissing off the cat and then I would just fall asleep again and GAH!

In self defense, as I felt myself fall asleep, I was able to take enough control over the dream that I armed myself at the beginning of every dream. Didn't matter what setting, who was there, I got a dream gun. I... I don't own a gun, people. I have never shot a gun. Last night? I wasn't going ANYWHERE in my sleep without my gun.

Which proved to be singularly unhelpful in preventing me from giving myself a complete heart attack and doing something entirely stupid at around 4:30 this morning. I wake up from whatever dream I was in, and I am suddenly POSITIVE someone is in the room with me. There had been someone in the room in my dream, and CLEARLY this was because I was reacting to the very real presence of someone in my room. So I look up...

And see two people in my room.

Who freaked out? Oh, I freaked out. I just stared at these people. I suddenly realized that maybe it was Kate and E. But.. why were they in my room? I spoke to the people (I am SO. BRAVE, y'all). I said, "Why are you here?". Nothing. I had to turn around to turn on the light, but I was afraid to, because I just KNEW that as soon as I turned my back they were going to attack, and there was nothing I could do about it because I was awake and this was real life and I didn't have my dream gun.

So I turn on the light. And my two white shirts that are hanging in the closet across from my bed hung benignly at me. That hat the one guy was wearing? Totally just the sleeve of one of my sweaters. There... there were no people, people. Just me, shakey and relieved, my non-deadly clothing, and one seriously frustrated cat who had just gotten comfortable and was now blinking in the sudden light at me with a "you have got to be kidding me" look on his face.

So to sum up, instead of sleeping like a normal person, I have become a member of the nocturnal NRA and am having middle of the night conversations with my own clothing. The cat hates me, and my roommates, believe it or not, have NOT taken to slinking around my room at 4:30 in the morning.

I have no idea what last night was all about, but tonight? I'm taking a Tylenol P.M.