Thursday, November 30, 2006
No, really. Swamped beyond belief, but alive.
My one highlight at this point in time--aside from the promise of shopping with Betty once she's back from Tahoe and I'm done with my crap (both slated to roughly coincide with each other)--is seeing Mehitabel and the two remaining kittens every day. The kittens like me, but Mehitabel has told them to stay away--but I can totally tell they want to run over to me.
I wonder how she told them to stay away?
Ok...back to typing.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Frog bless you, Hallmark Channel--you have truly saved Christmas and all that crap. No, rilly--I mean it. This is AMAZING. And here I was boo-hoo crying tonight.
Ok, well, I wasn't boo-hoo crying exactly. I was feeling sorry for myself that I was going to have to type something that I don't want to do, and that well...that my life is this way. :-) I *needed* this sap, bad.
A Town Without Christmas
A child's letter to Santa brings together two adults, who frantically search for the tot as Christmas Eve approaches. Hastening their hunt is a mystery man with a knack for painting pictures. 120 minutes- NR, USA, 2001, (CC), Stereo
Mon Nov 27 09:00P on Hallmark Channel
Wed Nov 29 11:00P on Hallmark Channel
Sat Dec 2 07:00P on Lifetime
Sunday, November 26, 2006
I think it would actually be cool to have a celebratory dead mall party on some Black Friday.
But then, I'm weird. We knew that.
And here a story that caught my eye: Dead mall competition
The actual competition is here.
Ok...I have to gear up for tomorrow. Ack.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
blushing, cringing, hiding-your-face-with-a-throw-pillow
embarrassing. And to that end, i present my nomination for Best Worst
Holiday Movie Ever:
the BWHM team of Single Santa and its sequel, Meet the Santas.
Steve Guttenberg's Ho, Ho, Hos are just downright CREEPY. This has
to be the hokiest movie in the world. Like EVER.
I am so totally buying them!
I have found the schedule for future airings. Single Santa is out on DVD (Amazon or eBay), but Meet the Santas is not yet, it seems. Drat. Therefore, time to learn how to record television shows to DVD. Here's the schedule, courtesy of TV-Now:
Single Santa Seeks Mrs. ClausStarring Steve Guttenberg, Crystal Bernard, Thomas Calabro, Dominic Scott Kay, Armin Shimerman, John Wheeler.
Holiday romance between Santa's son and a single mom. 120 minutes- NR, USA, 2004, (CC), Stereo
Sat Nov 25 05:00P on Hallmark Channel
Thu Nov 30 09:00P on Hallmark Channel
Thu Dec 7 11:00P on Hallmark Channel
Meet the SantasStarring Steve Guttenberg, Crystal Bernard, Dominic Scott Kay.
Nicholas Kringle and Beth Marshall prepare to marry in this sequel. 120 minutes- NR, USA, 2005, (CC), Stereo
Sat Nov 25 07:00P on Hallmark Channel
Fri Dec 1 09:00P on Hallmark Channel
Fri Dec 8 11:00P on Hallmark Channel
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
to make sure Mehitabel and Co. were ok. I didn't see her, but i put
food out. I'm sure she has places to go--Eviljob has a bunch of
places, especially in back by the loading docks. I have the rest of
the week off, and i spent yesterday afternoon shopping with Baby Bat,
and today shopping with Meg. I might actually be done early for once
this year. I'm neglecting reviewing one paper and writing another, but
i don't care anymore. We found out Monday that our meeting yet well
enough to advance to the next round, so to speak, so that's good. My
plan is to just take everything as it comes and ride out the year at
this point. And i'm buying myself a Christmas present--a ginormous
stuffed Mumble, from Happy Feet. I am going to buy him right now. For
some reason, this is making me exceedingly happy.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Last night I must have slept in a sleep-of-the-dead sense; I dreamt nothing all night, and had a really weird dream right before I woke up, kind of when I was already half-awake, and when I finally woke up this morning, my cheek and forehead hurt as if I had a sunburn or something. I went to the bathroom to see that I have two *huge* scabs on my left cheek (right on the cheekbone) and forehead (dead centre, like some silver dollar-sized bindi). The only thing I can figure is that Romeo kitty-kissed all the skin off trying to groom me, or wake me up. I figure this because (1) there are teensy little rasp marks all going in the same direction on each sore, and (2) Romeo is obsessive about grooming me--some nights he gets so bad that I have to put the covers over my head to escape (if you've never had a seal-point Siamese try to clean all the fleas out of your eyebrows, you just haven't lived. And don't even try to explain to the Meezer that you don't HAVE fleas in your eyebrows; they know that you do), and (3) I didn't have the sores when I went to bed. He has never done this before, though--or if he has tried (which he has; he just plops himself on my pillow and starts going to town), I have awakened enough to get him off me, or pull the covers up--it *hurts*. I must have been REALLY out.
It would be cute, only I have to still go and do things and see people Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. And then there's Thanksgiving and shopping on Friday, and I now look like I have leprosy or something. Having leprosy is decidedly un-cute. Having leprosy has made my cutitude quotient drop like a pachinko ball. And I tried covering it with foundation today--it only made it worse.
Great. Just great.
Yeah. I'm loved. If it is all the same, I wish that I were loved a little less, thankyouverymuch.
At least he didn't pull all the hairs out of my eyebrows with those damned little Measleteeth.
*Yes*, I'm irritated--the little wiener 'groomed' my damn face off, fer chrissakes.
I did have something set up today--I don't know if it counts as a date or not (more on that later--it's that thoughtful, nice thing), but I cancelled it and rescheduled for next Sunday. Hopefully by then the cortisone and anitbiotic crud I've heaped on my face will have done something; plus I take my last Augmentin tomorrow morning, so I'm starting up with the Minocycline.
And as if it all weren't going weirdly enough, when I cleaned out my purse to find my Augmentin today, I found that I did have a bottle of generic diphenhydramine all along. Sigh. It's always something, iddnit? But if I'd been asked, I would have cleaned out my purse looking, so I would have found it. Sigh. Doublesigh. TRIPLESIGH. Stick a fork in me; I'm *done*.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Okay--today royally sucked ASS. I was at Eviljob (and fed the kitties, they are fine), and had to take an eight-hour refresher course held by someone from National. They decided after much whining to remove it from Friday and stick it on Saturday, and that's not what I'm whining about. It was long, boring, and kind of like CEU credit. so whatever.
What I am bitching about is that I was stuck in there along with the remains of my department (it's ok to snicker derisively whenever I say I have a 'department' at Eviljob any longer), and we were lumped in with another group that I am not familiar with in an effort to kill two birds with one stone. And because there frankly isn't enough of my 'department' left to justify a whole entire training, so we have to get put in with others.
A little after 1:30 p.m., one of the ladies in Other Department left the room and came back and said, 'Paul [the trainer], Stephanie's passed out in the ladies' room, and I don't know what to do.'
Oh, hang on--it gets better.
So Paul asked if Steph was breathing, and Girly started to get panicked, and said that she didn't know. Now, I am sitting there hoping that SOMEONE is going to get up; there is NO WAY *I* could possibly be the most qualified to address this. NO WAY IN HELL.
...then Paul says that he isn't sure if he can go into the ladies' restroom.
Literally in tandem, Baby Bat (who forsook going off to university to stay with our team as a sort-of permanent intern--I have not mentioned this before, I don't think) and I got up and started running to the restroom. I dialled 911 on my cell as I was getting up, and tossed my phone to Paul in the hall when it occurred to me that I cannot chat and perform CPR at the same time.
Stephanie was lying on her back by the sinks, and I couldn't tell if she was breathing; I went to her head to check her mouth and breathing, and Baby Bat tried to feel for a pulse. Stephanie is an amply endowed woman, and BB couldn't find it, so I found it in her wrist as we turned her on her side and BB listened to her back and determined that she was breathing (though not all that strongly) and I took her pulse, which was ok.
Then I thanked whomever might be listening in on my private thoughts, 'cos if it were me, I wouldn't want me performing CPR on me--I'm too rusty. Especially since all I have ever trained on was scrawny-assed dummies, and the only steps that were coming to my mind was single-person CPR; BB *could* have done the breathing whilst I did the compressions, but since we didn't have a face shield thingy (not to sound bad, but this girl could have anything, you know?), it wouldn't have been fair to ask BB to do that.
Then I tried to see if Steph would come to on her own (wouldn't that be a lovely world, then?), so I said (loudly) something to the effect of 'STEPHANIE, YOU'RE LATE! WAKE UP!'
You laugh, but I've been told it works.
Steph's eyes stayed shut, but she did squeeze her eyelids and started intermittently making what looked like smacking movements with her lips; I was trying to decide if she was coming to, starting a seizure, or trying to vomit when I hear a voice from the door say, 'God! You don't have to yell at her!'
BB and I looked over, and THE ENTIRE FUCKING GROUP was at the restroom door. BB yelled for everyone to leave before I could, and they backed away to the back wall of the hallway. Steph then started making lurching movements, and BB held her head while I squashed myself under the sinks to make sure her mouth and airway was clear; I ruled out her waking up, and was still trying to decide between vomiting and seizing, which I told Paul 'cos 911 wanted some information about her. The operator asked if Stephanie was blue (no), then asked if she was pale, and neither BB or I could tell (Stephanie is darker-skinned, and I didn't know her at all), so I called for ONE PERSON who knew her to come in and tell me if she was pale. The girl who went to get her from the bathroom in the first place came in and said that she was very pale. Either BB or I told one of them to go get Security and let them know an ambulance was coming.
Paul said that an ambulance was on the way, and I started asking this girl about Stephanie; she'd just come back from medical leave for something that no one knew anything about (lovely team...all of my departments have always been *so* much closer...or nosy, whatever), that she had some kind of allergy (though they didn't know what), had just eaten lunch (though they didn't know what), and said that she had said that she was having an allergic reaction before she went to the bathroom (telling Girly as she left to come check on her if she wasn't back in a few minutes), that she didn't feel well, had said that she was having trouble breathing, and had asked a few people right after lunch if they had Benadryl.
WTF??? She never asked me, or within my earshot--I always have an ample supply of pseudoephedrine (and usually other antihistamines) in my purse and I'll give it to anyone, FDA laws be damned; that's one thing that when you need it, you NEED it, and pseudoephedrine (which is all I currently have on me) is better than nothing. Plus, I would have gone to the store around the corner to GET Benadryl if an actual antihistamine was needed. Jesus F-ing Christ.
I asked BB if she would be ok for a second, and she said that she would (BB was keeping her head in position, 'cos Steph's body was not cooperating with Recovery Position very well), so I got up to check the first aid kit in the break room just in case there was an EpiPen in there (which was almost without a doubt *not* there--the only crap in those kits are Band-Aids and antiseptic wipes, but I figured if Stephanie was asking for Benadryl, if I could just get hold of an EpiPen, then BB and/or I could do rescue breathing if it came to that until Stephanie woke up, or the ambulance got there, 'cos her breathing still wasn't great, but if this was anaphylaxis there might not be a whole lot anyone could do if her airway was constricted), went out in the hall and saw Donna, my favourite security guard coming down to us and remembered that the main Security desk is where the AED is kept (which until that moment I had forgotten that we had), so I yelled down the hall to Donna to ask if Security had an EpiPen, which Donna yelled back that they didn't, so I asked another girl in the hall to go through Steph's purse and see if she was carrying an EpiPen.
Well, she could have had one and wanted to save it for an emergency, or something stupid like that. People do some really retarded things sometimes.
What's funny (now) is that I had to tell her that it would look 'kinda like a tube of Superglue or Krazy Glue when it's in the little plastic container, and it will say "EpiPen" on it, or maybe some other name, but anything roughly close to that shape with instructions on how to inject it'. Thank god Stephanie carried a smallish purse, or we might still be there looking.
Stephanie started lurching again, and when I got back down in front of her (again with the under the sink thing) I saw foamy spittle was collecting in her mouth, and so BB and I turned her more forward (so that we could keep her mouth clear more easily and she'd be less likely to aspirate) just in time for her to start vomiting.
No, this is good. Well, it's *probably* good. Well, as good as it gets--a seizure would be A Bad Thing.
So we kept her mouth clear as she vomited and got her back into a more normal recovery position once she stopped lurching.
Girl With Purse called over to us and said there was no EpiPen--I asked her if she was CERTAIN and asked BB if she knew what an EpiPen looked like (else I would go out myself and look), and one of the guys in the group said he knew and there wasn't one in her purse.
Then Stephanie--still unconscious--coughed and started vomiting again, and we tilted her downly-forwardish again to clear out her mouth more easily, and that's when--thank you god--someone said the paramedics were here.
There were--LITERALLY--ten or fifteen people: paramedics, fire rescue personnel, and god knows who else. Two--TWO--drug bags (I need one of those); stretcher, oxygen...all that fun crap. BB and I told them as quickly as we could everything that we knew (in sum, that whatever in the fuck she was allergic to, she was asking for Benadryl, and good luck with that now), and they asked for the room to be cleared and the door closed, so BB and I exited.
Everyone was still standing out in the hall, so I asked Paul if he was willing to call an unscheduled break and since he was, I left and went out back. BB stayed because she'd put her coat and cell phone on the counter, and needed to get them back before they vanished (which I would do also if it were my crap in there).
I forgot to notice the time, so I don't know how long it was before they wheeled her out, but once I saw that I gave it an extra few minutes before I went back in. She appeared to be still unconscious when they took her out, though when I got back in there a few of her teammates said that they were pretty sure they heard her talking in the bathroom. On the other hand, there were two female emergency personnel in there, so who in the hell knows what they heard.
And then, of course, everything went back to normal.
...except for the part about my being really freaked out 'cos if things hadn't gone ok, I sure as crap didn't want to be responsible for any of it. I maybe need to go get re-certified, so that I am not relying so much on my shitty memory if anything like that ever happens again. And I could just smooch Baby Bat something fierce--she was wonderful; no way could Stephanie's head have stayed in a good position without her.
And I am now sporting two knees with great big bruises on them from all the jumping on them I did getting from one side of Stephanie to the other, though my left knee is way worse than my right one. And Meg says (yes, she's staying to babysit her car's situation and her cat and my cats when I'm not at home) that I have a large bruise across my back that I can only assume came from the underside of the sink counter. What's *really* funny is that I don't remember hurting myself or banging into anything. I mean not at all; when I got home and changed, I looked at my knees and was like, 'where in the hell did *those* come from?!?'
And something really, really nice happened today, but I am too tired to go into that now. It was actually one of the most considerate things that has ever been done for me--and...I don't know. This other thing eclipsed the nice thing. But it was a really nice thing. And I am still figuring out if it was an intentionally nice thing, or if it was an accidentally nice thing and I am reading too much into it.
Sigh...more later when I am not so damned tired.
Friday, November 17, 2006
I wanted *so* badly to see Happy Feet today. I have been looking forward to this for *months*! So much so that I was almost going to take myself, because this was a depressing day, and I am overtired, over-worked, and sick. But then I had to pick up Meg so that she could stay over here to be near her car, and I just didn’t manage it, plus I am not exactly happy.
I *will* go see it. I WILL.
Eventually. The actual truth, not that I would tell anyone, is that I have an underlying sadness that really put a damper on any fun stuff the past couple of days.
I am all upset over something, and if you aren’t in the mood to be depressed or hate me, don’t read the rest.
Something really depressing happened the other day, and I am still not completely up to talking about it. I might not ever be, so here goes: I really fucked up. I live in a residential-type area that one has to go down a two-lane road to get to from one direction. On this two-lane road are older homes, somewhat spread-out, almost a rural kind of layout, though it turns into
So I drove by and saw this black cat, and I thought (naturally) that he reminded me of Squooshable. I thought about stopping and trying to feed him (I actually do this pretty frequently—feed strange cats I see here and there, and if I ever did see one in trouble, I would try to help it), but I was sure enough that he belonged to the home he was right next to that I figured I’d probably just really piss off the owner if I pulled in and did that. Plus, he looked just fine—had a shiny black coat, didn’t look thin, and was bigger than Squoosh, so I figured he was at least two or three years old.
So I went home, and a few hours later when I left I took the same route, and there he was. In the road. Hit. Dead.
Yes, I am sure.
And I have felt for the past couple of days that this is my fault. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and I fucked up. I just cannot believe it. I keep thinking to myself that just five minutes of my time might have made a difference. He wasn’t hit near where I saw him, so he must have wandered farther down the road, which means that I was probably wrong—he didn’t live at the house where I saw him.
This has actually depressed me a great deal, and I really am very sorry…not that that matters or means anything at this point.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
It just occurred to me that one of the funniest gems on the net has never been mentioned here: The Chronicles of George. If you are havening some free time, well...it's worth it. As god may or may not be my witness, I think I have worked with George a few years ago when I was doing tech support.
Meg is ok, everyone is ok. Meg's car isn't ok, but... Augh. I TOLD her to not let the wrecker company that the police brought out take her car to their lot. I TOLD her.
Now they are pulling their typical scam of not having told her she has to come down and sign to let adjusters and everyone come look at her car or take it to be fixed or totalled out (they so totally rely on you being unable to make it to them because you--duh--have no transportation, while they are earning storage fees and everything else), so she has sat for 24 hours thinking something was being done about her car, and it wasn't--the towing company told the adjuster to drop dead early this morning. As I drove her out there this afternoon to sign their stupid release, I told her that I told her all this, and so she started yelling at me.
She's just grumpy, so I didn't yell back at her. I know that she now knows to freaking listen to me--I worked for four years at an answering service, and at any given time we had five to ten towing companies (the scammy ones are *notorious* for not paying their bills), and I know how the scam is run. One company we answered for had instructions on their first screen in CAPITAL SCREAMING LETTERS that we were under no circumstances to discuss prices with any caller...because the prices changed depending on how expensive your car was. Not that they told us that last part. And their 'end of day' (at which point they started charging storage fees was subject to change based on what they thought they could get out of you). The guys there were reliably and constantly 'out on a call' when people would come to pick up their cars, or have a wrecker come; I cannot tell you how many times they did the 'forward (the phones) and hide (themselves)' trick to get out of releasing a car for one more day. Bwaah!
I have to take her to go get a rental car (thank you, jeebus) tomorrow, and that's *after* I put in five hours at Eviljob, so... Bed. Now.
Monday, November 13, 2006
It's just that when the Bluebird of Grumpiness is sitting on your shoulder, you don't think like that. My Bluebird is calling me a whining pansy wimp right now.
...and telling me to shut up and fuck off.
It's time for a little Bluebird, say?
This is the Bluebird of Grumpiness. Say 'hello' to my leetle friend:
As much as The Bluebird of Grumpiness has meant to me through the years, I realised as I was driving home from picking Meg up at the site of her car carnage and dropping her off at work that I haven't blogged about The Bluebird of Grumpiness yet.
And don't go telling me how the real name is The Mad Bluebird. I *know* the name is The Mad Bluebird, but if Michael Smith had asked me, I would have told him to name it The Bluebird of Grumpiness.
My, what an angry little birdy.
I love him.
I currently have a Bluebird of Grumpiness on my shoulder. He is a cute little cartoon birdy, and he looks pissed off, much like this photo of The Bluebird of Grumpiness. One cannot always *see* The Bluebird of Grumpiness, but one always knows when he's around.
My Bluebird of Grumpiness just told everyone to shut up and fuck off, by the way.
I am going to take a nap now.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
spent this afternoon setting everything up so that there are no
unexpected anythings occurring tomorrow. So except for the possibility
of my saying something stupid, i think we're good. Now i just have to
get to sleep at a remotely reasonable hour...augh. I am so, so ready
for some egg nog and shopping, unfortunately i still have a semester
to get through. This crap should count as an internship, i swear...
Saturday, November 11, 2006
cuddling me, Squoosh is eating, and i am watching Dawn of the
Dead--you know, the movie where there's a PFK in Milwaukee? Go figure.
I need to get the dvd eventually. I probably should have brought my
laptop in here, i guess. But then i would have worked.
This isn't a bad movie, but i personally liked the first one better.
And i think Andy dying was lame; he was cool. And i think Matt Frewer
should have had a bigger part. And i think the zombie baby part was
dumb; they could have done better. The zombies run too fast, and in
the Luda-offing scene, the bullets fall wrong. I guess i am being
hypercritical, hmmm? I am bored. Does it show? I need to get back to
work, i guess.
Like, finally, right?
She is just cool to the coolthiest power--really knows her stuff, and doesn't fake it when she doesn't. I really *hate* it when people fake it, 'cos you never know after that whether they are for real, or talking out of their ass--you have to double-check everything they say or do. She listens well, reflects on things, and is just damn close to everything I want to be when I grow up. :-) Plus she really handled a HORRIBLE issue at Job 2 really quietly and well--enough that *I* didn't totally understand all that was going on until afterwards, but she fixed it. And she doesn't pawn stuff off on people, either--she is very hard-working, and if anything she is like me in that she takes on *way* too much. But I figured that, like me, it's because she's accustomed to people fucking things up, not showing up, and so forth--so I have been on a mission to gain her trust, and I think that (after four long months), that I have managed to do so, at least a little bit.
Provided I don't fuck anything up on Monday, that is.
I'm going to have to think up a name for her, 'cos I have a raging girl-crush on her. She assigned specific parts for me to handle in the early morning part of what is essentially a mini-seminar, and I finished those...so she is putting together the rest, and we will do a run-through tomorrow. And what kills me is that I offered 3,718,281,828.46 times to do more, and she declined. In the Old Job 2, I would have gotten the request to slap together something late Friday afternoon (because advance notice would have been spoiling me too much), and then been left to my own devices as to how that was going to happen. Shit...in the Old Job 2, I might not have been told about the meeting until Sunday evening, 'cos everyone 'forgot' to tell me.
I love my new job.
So I am taking a [gasp!] break. Yes--a break. An actual period of time in which I am going to put a pizza in the oven, dose Meg's cat, dose Romeo (his nightly Theo-Dur), dose myself (I'm sick and on Augmentin and Flonase, by the way), rub Squoosh's neck, and pickle my brain with television as I eat. :-) In other words, do nothing. A BREAK. Beauty!
...then I am going to get back here and come up with additional stuff to try to help flesh out some of her stuff, because I am a control freak, and I am sucking up, and I want to be helpful, and I have an Inner Stage Manager who is still not totally cool with letting someone else do all this, and I like and respect her as a person, and would even go over and rub her feet if I thought that would be the least bit useful right now. Plus, I don't transition well between helper and helpee. Does it show? *I* am the helper. Like, always. God ordained it or something, I think.
Plus, I don't want her to feel like I do all the god damned time, 'cos she's like, Xena, Warrior Princess, or something.
Ok: pizza and drugs! Yay.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Okay, so my Thursday deadline came and went unmentioned because I was too fracking busy to be able to take a breath...and now that Impending Doom has been eclipsed by an even LARGER Impending Doom on Monday. But it's all good.
Meg's off for the weekend again; I think back in Biloxi, but I am not sure. Nor do I CARE--she's saddled me with her sick cat, god damn it. He has a kidney infection, and has to have Clavamox tablets (YES!! There are Clavamox TABLETS now! And they do not have to be REFRIGERATED!) twice a day, and a muscle relaxant once a day. Sigh.
So I am finding the time *somewhere*.
I have been at Job 2 practically non-stop. I have to put in face-time at Eviljob tomorrow morning, then it is back to Job 2. And on Sunday, also.
And yes, I am still feeding the kitties, and yes, I think they are all okay.
There has been drama and upgheaval at work as well, but I will have to tell all later--right now I have to get to sleep shortly. But I live. And that is good.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Today was okay, but I didn't get enough done towards my goal. Then I had to lose about five hours to go to another on-site evaluation, and I should be writing my notes up, but I am taking a second to blog and then I am going back to my paper. I am supposed to lecture tomorrow, and I don't have the first clue what in the crap I am going to say. Christ...
I should spend time on that, I guess, but I *think* I will be better off if I just type my ass off to meet my Thursday deadline and wing it tomorrow. That sounds bad, doesn't it? Sigh.
The evaluees tonight were just as charming as our first group on Saturday, so at least that was good. :-) And I did get to spend those five hours with a couple of really sweet and awesome people, which was even better...I just should have been working.
Well, working on this paper thingy-thing, I mean.
And I have to get up at five a.m. to put some time in at Eviljob in the morning so that I can crap out early to go lecture about stuff I will put together in my head on the drive over. Whee. And I have to decide if I should give my father his ginormous teak elephant back or not (more about this later), and if I should apply for a position at a local school that I just saw advertised and tell Eviljob to fuck off. Well, were I to *get* that job, that is.
1. Tell Eviljob to fuck off
No, I don't think so. :-)
Okay, then...guess what I am going to go do.
If I could get one particular someone to quit trying to hold an IM-via-email conversation with me right now...AUGH!
One cannot buy this type of fun. Rilly. It has to just happen.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
So tomorrow has to be an industrial-strength work day, as does Monday—it looks like, despite my attempts at explaining that quality does not occur overnight, I will get nothing more…augh. My deadline is Thursday, and it is a non-negotiable deadline since it is basically a submission that goes to a group that gives final ok, and then it goes off to be completely finalised, so…it’s out of my hands; like it or not, I have tomorrow and Monday, and not much else, because I have *other* things I have to accomplish this week.
Today I spent out-of-doors, which was kind of nice, only it was because I had to do a training evaluation where I didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was cold enough today to be sure, but I still took way too much sun, I think—my face feels as if I did, at least. Go figure.
It wasn’t really bad, it was just very …new. I have never done this kind of evaluation before, and so I really had to focus and do a lot of that paying attention thing that I deplore. ;-) This was a good opportunity though, and I am really, really grateful that I was asked, because even though it is so different, it is also going to be (eventually) a really good skill set to have.
I was nervous, but thankfully my mentor on this one is just fucking awesome beyond words, and was really fantastic about giving me enough freedom to let me walk around and test out my wings as it were, but not enough rope to hang myself (to go and mix a metaphor for no real reason). Not many people are actually good teachers, so when I run across one, I just appreciate it all the more. And above all that, we were 'doing' an awesome group; it was really egoless work, and I absolutely adored it. I am looking forward to having to do it again, though other than briefly on Monday evening, I don't know right now when I will see our evaluatees again (which is a shame also 'cos I absolutely *loved* having an excuse to watch one of them. Sigh. I am *so* going to Hell, hmmm?). It all depends upon how what we did today shapes up.
I guess I will have to either give up on providing detail or do it later, because I am just *exhausted*, and I have to get some sleep right at the moment.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
at work today, but i don't feel like tapping it all out on my cell.
And i am trapped in work for the next week to week and a half,
depending on how fast i can get two papers out...which is probably
going to be Not Very.
At least i did get an explanation of Boston Legal from Mummers when
she phoned. Interesting show. Sheesh.
I just can't get over how much one's mood can affect the whole day;
today i was in a weird mood, and the whole day just didn't feel right.
I guess what is good about that is that as strange as things went, it
actually seemed pretty normal. :-) i should just jump back into one
of the projects that i have to finish, but the fact is that i don't
feel like it. I'm tired. Before i go getting all serious, i am
stealing a few hours off. :-)
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Well I need a like, muse or something.
Gone, gone, gone.
I'm thinking it was thefted.
Boy, that really rips my widget.
You, there--person who stole it!
Don't you have any respect for togetherness?
I used to have a complete set of three:
Blue, purple, AND PINK.
Man, this really sucks ass.
You abducted a member of my pen family,
Did you think I wouldn't notice??
Doesn't 'ohana mean anything to you???
If someone from The Writer's Almanac wants to contact me, I'll be right here. I can even write a longer, more epic-like one if Garrison wants me to.
I am really trying to scale back my posting of vids too much. No, rilly--it's tempting, but I simply *must* stop.
running late, and so i am eavesdropping on a blow-by-blow recap of
last night's Boston Legal at another table. In case one was unaware,
Boston Legal is a really good, funny show that addresses highly
relevant world issues such as the death penalty and midgets.
I would have you know that i have provided an almost exact quote
there. I am trying to laugh *internally*, ok?
Boston Legal stars the famous actor who played James T Kirk, Alan
Spader-or-something (i think that's a Dutch name; what do you
think?), and Candy Bergen. I have it on good authority that last
night's episode also featured a superlative performance by a
shovel-wielding murderous pee-pee. Whatever that is. I am afraid to
ask. But i think that i am going to have to watch this show...my
goodness. I must admit--my interest is piqued now.