Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Oh my heavens, no.
As of this morning, I have been recruited -- in the midst of my busy season -- to be, basically (making a long description and explanation short), her typist; my Mommy fired the person who was helping her because she did not like something they did and is trying to prove something to Whomever, and I've been temporarily conscripted. And, of course, I am being paid Not One Red Cent for this.
Screw bastards; everybody's a total fucker. Srsly.
Bonus points for title's reference. Triple bonus points for finding all the things I am doing to Mummers' shit. I'm expecting most will survive once it's done. I mean, freaking *prove* that Fleegle, Bingo, Drooper, and Snork (1970) did not say half the things I say they did in a defunct journal.
In a foreign language.
At the moment, I am leaning towards Esperanto.
I'm betting no one will look that closely. Heh. Plus, I hear that they were quite prolific authors, and held opinion -- both expert and peer-reviewed -- on many varied topics. As did Momary, Douglas; Jo, Emmy; Hepo, Henrietta; Fraug, Frederic; and Aul, Charles (1977) in their monumental work, Review of the Zoological Neo-Garden. Far, far more interesting than the drivel Mummers is yammering on about.
Damn, I crack me the hell up.
Okay, okay...I am not *that* bad. But seriously, I AM stressing now. I do not need this. I get this, however, 'cos I am the most 'available' of her children, and she needs 'just a little help'. And yeah, I know -- I am the only one who laughs at my jokes. :-)
Sigh. I may not get to sleep again until like, March. She thinks things will change by Friday and she will get her way, but I do not believe her. Let us hope.
Double bonus points for...well, you know.
I want a nickel a word, or something. Fuckers.
Monday, November 26, 2007
if being told that I am exactly like Garcia on Criminal Minds is a
compliment, criticism, or neutral observation?
jesus...at least assure me that Garcia is a female, and ideally one
*under* like, fifty. Fack.
In Xmas news, I am wholly convinced that in her version of Rockin'
Around the Christmas Tree, Amy Grant says, 'have some fuckin pie'. I
think she slipped it in there -- I know I would.
This revelation comes after having listened to the song at least
twenty times today on the Limited Playlist Holiday Station today. At
least this year it's not Christmas Shoes, thank Ceiling Cat. I hate
that song. I have been threatening to write my own holiday song since
I heard it, 'cos *my* song would be better; unhindered by religious
beliefs as I am, I have NO qualms whatsoever about sucking as much
marrow as possible out of the old Pity Bone.
ok...back to work. Yay.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Your dominant hues are red and magenta. You love doing your own thing and going on your own adventures, but there are close friends you know you just can't leave behind. You can influence others on days when you're patient, but most times you just want to go out, have fun, and do your own thing.
Your saturation level is high - you get into life and have a strong personality. Everyone you meet will either love you or hate you - either way, your goal is to get them to change the world with you. You are very hard working and don't have much patience for people without your initiative.
Your outlook on life is very bright. You are sunny and optimistic about life and others find it very encouraging, but remember to tone it down if you sense irritation.
Everything is good; I will have to write about my Friday and being called in after subbing at Eviljob 'cos we had *three* no-lifer nutbags phone Kate to be used as participants (qualified ones are hard to come by, and I have been beating the bushes all I intend, so I told Kate we have to take what comes) in this silly thing we are doing at Job 2-sub-one when I am not so damnably tired; since Thursday morning, I have slept about six hours, not including two thirty-ish-minute naps. Bwaah. I also walked the whole area around Eviljob looking for two of our felines that did not turn up for their evening snack three days in a row. These two have never disappeared before, but others have and turn back up, so we will hope. Romeo developed the runs, and now he is on kitty Immodium and Flagyl. At least I think it is Flagyl; I am too sleepy to look it up -- it's Metsumpinsumpin. I think.
I hope everyone had a fabulous Thanksgiving. Yay. Turkey. Moo.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Our Thanksgiving was good; we did a communal Thanksgiving again this
year with Amelia, and I am actually still at her house. Meg and I are
helping her with all her tech issues (like charging her bluetooth
headset so that it will work), and I brought over a bunch of dvds --
at the moment, we are watching Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas,
having just finished Single Santa Seeks Mrs. Claus (Amelia and I are
both raging xmas freaks, only Amelia has an easier time with it than I
do because she is religious, where I am not. On her, it comes off all
pious and holy; on me, Raging Xmas Freak just looks weird), and I am
sure Meg is close to screaming. :-)
Tonight we are getting no sleep, as well; all of us have tomorrow off,
and our malls are opening at midnight.
And I have Wilderness Fever, bigtime; Amelia's home is done up with
all sorts of home-made tsotchkeys from River Falls area's antiques and
whatnot stores, and I have spent the whole evening convincing myself
that I need a quilt or ten more at my home, as well as amish pot
holders, knitted placemats, and a creche hand-carved by Moonie
pre-schoolers entirely of bubblegum. Or whatever.
Sigh...I need to just take tomorrow to relax, but I am about to go be
a Mall Pirate, and then I have to drive out to see my father...and
then get back in time to fill in as a kind of relief manager on
Saturday at Eviljob (this basically is where a manager gets someone to
show up for them when they do not want to show up). Bwaah.
sad, pathetic Mall Pirate that I am, I want to just shop my fuzzy butt
off and do nothing but redecorate all weekend. What a dork I am! Sigh.
:-D wish me luck...I have to go pillage in a bit. One of the things I
am hoping to score for myself this Black Friday is the entire
collection of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, which I have come to
adore since I happened upon it by accident about a month ago; it is so
damned funny that I can even overlook the fact that one of the guys on
it reminds me so much of the Former Future Mr Ancodia looks- and
expression-wise that I actually thought for a sec about googling after
seeing the first episode to see if there was any relationship before I
decided that was a Truly Batshit thing to do.
gah...just left Amelia's, and we are vulturing the nearest mall,
looking for a parking space! I had better go before Meg or anyone else
asks me again what I am doing. Sigh...I love you, fellow Mall Pirates;
I really, truly lurve yous fiercely!!
Sunday, November 18, 2007
the day. She got some cool things, is re-doing some of her rooms,
but...like I care. Then today I was going to use wisely, catching up
on the twelve million things I have been putting off, like laundry,
and Mom phones because she needs help with some stuff she is writing,
as if I know anything about it. And there goes my Sunday. Poop.
If elected President, I will institute a four-day weekend, ban
calories, and tell the Excedrin company that if they don't make
serious inroads towards addressing Mummers-induced migraines, I will
fricking excommunicate them, or whatever it is Presidents do.
Friday, November 16, 2007
and my relationship to Meg (and my brother) to the point that she is
wandering around asking cohorts to confirm her pet theory that Meg and
I are not actually related, or are half-sisters, that Meg & Dork are
obviously full-sibs, but I 'don't fit', so I am a half, step, adopted,
or something. Clearly. And she is telling it as if I told her, asking
to 'confirm' it.
WTF? Yes we are, first off, not that it is any of her business. I
suppose her presumption here is that Meg is really brilliant,
accomplished, respected, etc. (Meg does a lot more than just play
poker, I just do not really go into that here), and I am clearly so
different, but...what business is it of hers? The pettiness of people
floors me sometimes, and I never see it coming. Bwaah! Could everyone
just stop being batshit? Please? This is why I hate people. Go ahead
and do your worst, Fluffer; you are an amateur. I've survived worse
rumours. How the fuck old are we all again????
Thursday, November 15, 2007
to quit and play for a bit. Pfft. Right now I am in my Last Required Class
(LRC), and it is a halfway out-of-department one. Our prof is so freaking
adorable I could just hug him; he gets *so* enthusiastic about *everything*,
and that's a damned accomplishment in what is basically a robotics/progging
In Other News, Trillian on my laptop appears to have bufed the pooch, as one
of my brother's friends used to say (not that I ever could figure out what
that *meant*); I cannot figure out what is wrong with Trillian, but Steve
and I appear to be the only
...bastards! i go and type a post, then my pda discharges and i lose
it all. Bwaah! On my cell drafts save in gmail, but not on the pda,
even if i am using the non-WAP browser? wtf? Bastards. Everybody's a
sigh. Ok -- bed.
Monday, November 12, 2007
This is a tuxedo cat:
Now imagine hordes of them.
I have a blue tuxedo (Rhett Butler Kittypants) and two black cats (Squooshable Bobby Vinton Baconface Nguyen Kittypants and Cookie Noel Kittypants) that came from the Eviljob matriarch, Mehitabel Kittypants. Mehitabel hates me and looks a lot like the cat up there, except for the part about the picture up there not hissing at me when I look at it.
I thought that I would have more time to post, but I have to get to work at Eviljob; I had today off from Job 2 (both of them), and now have to catch up some time at Eviljob. Yay.
ok...more later. I will leave you with what is probably my all-time favourite lolcat pic so far; it reminds me of Squoosh and Cookie, and now of the Tuxedo Cat Uprising:
Saturday, November 10, 2007
I ended up today stuck at work until it was almost time for the Feral Cat Fiesta to end, so I decided to take a miss. I am disappointed, but I guess there was no way around it. Mehitabel has had *another* litter; this time they are all tuxedo cats it seems, and she has nested them at the flagpole, one of her favourite places. :-) It's safe there, and the lights are on illuminating the flagpole whenever it is dark, so the ground stays fairly warm. She is such a good mom. We should all have such good moms. Harry and I are managing to keep them all fed.
I drove out to see my father, and am now so tired that I think I am going to have to nap and try more of this blogging and catching up on email later.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
2-sub-1; I accomplished more than I thought I would this entire
quarter when things I have been setting up for almost two months
gently fell into place this week. It was fabulous. Then today I was
given a tangible *end*. That's right -- shortly, no more three jobs.
Whee! Because of J2s1's client visit, I was able to push off a tedious
chunk of work at J2s2...and that is going well. No one has fucked
anything up yet. Eviljob is the same as ever, but that is GOOD. And
Mehitabel had another litter, but I have been promised a speuterfest
Right now I am tired, and I have a headache...but I feel wonderful.
Overall, I mean. Wholly undeserving of all this fabulousness. Yay!
Ok...now I have to go get ready for a small presentation tomorrow, but
that is *nothing*. Again, yay.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
at Job 2-sub-1. Pffft. Get real; I even forgot about my father's
ohhh...I sent a card (via Bluemountain, so he can get it on the
computer we got for him; per my stepmother via Meg, he is becoming
quite the media whore. It's cute), and the new 'puter was bas ically
an early birthday present. But the point is that I forgot.
So yesterday I did a lot of running around. It mostly went well, and I
guess that is good. Our resident cannibal stayed home, so we had no
fear of our clients being freaked out. :-)
argh...time to run.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
...and I did get Ultrasound II, Return of The Killer Ultrasound results back; both of my ovaries – Millicent and Melisande – have cysts on them; Millicent, who apparently never quite got the hang of this ovulation thing, still has the same ol’ cyst which is probably a chocolate cyst, and it is not much larger. This means that Millicent has a hard time letting go. Literally. Now Melisande (my favourite; if one can have favoured ovaries, Melisande is it. All my non-idiot children will come from Melisande – if they come at all – paternal contributions aside, that is) has a cyst of her own, about the size of a walnut. Significantly smaller than the cyst on Millicent (Millicent’s previous cyst grew to be almost the size of a man’s fist, and squooshed the crap out of Millicent), my gyn is fairly confident that Melisande’s will diminish with staying on the Pill, and we are hoping Millicent’s will start to go down.
C’mon, Millicent. Get with the fucking program.
[Ed. Note: I have never gotten around to putting together post pages thingy-stuffs that will re-direct you to another page of you want to hear about stuff, and let you just read the other stuffs and skip the link if you don’t, so…sorry. I am going to deviate for a sec, but then we are back to more girlstuffs. You have been warned.]
Oh, I am *finally* getting to see Night at the Museum, and so far it is awfully cute; I think that, although Mickey Rooney’s character is cute, they would have done better with Burgess Meredith. Were he to be still alive, that is; as-is, maybe not so much.
But this is my blog, and we don’t care about them, now do we?
Butsoanyway, now we get to the interesting part. My physical therapist (well, I do not know who it actually started with, but let’s blame her
Like I have time for this; it has been all I can do to free up early mornings for pilates, core class and therapy. Feh.
Thing is, I am having trouble talking to anyone anymore. Sure, I have a ton of stuff that I could ramble on about, but…why? It really does not matter; maybe things will get better, maybe they won’t; either way, I guess I have to go chat to make everyone happy. Okay, so I finally wrote something here about it.
Halloween was great; I went over to a friend's and watched horror movies. Now I have this weekend 'off', but the stuff that I wanted to do is *next* weekend, so I have to find a way to talk Harry into going to this cat festival our rescue group is contributing to (after we get this over with, next is Speuterfest 2007…though I have been given no firm date yet). Plus, Meg's out of town at some tournament in (I think) Biloxi that she is doing well in (last I was messaged).
Right now, I am watching Intimate Power on (naturellement) Cinemax. What god-awful crap. I hate watching things like this alone, 'cos I have so damn much fun making fun of movies like this. It is so awful, it's *fabulous*! Everyone is wearing these fake moustaches à la early porn movies, and it is so drama-ridden I am having a hard time clearing my eyes of tears from my hysterical laughter. I need a MST3K-like show of my own. Seriously.
Especially funny was the part where F Murray Abraham (who is the Sultan) calls for Aimee (who is the requisite demure French virgin girl) to go shtup him, and after making muchly with the 'yes/no/maybe/sometimes' (think Harlequin Romances at their WORST) where Aimee vacillates between killing herself to escape such an ignominious fate (all these heroines *always* have potentially ignominious fates – I think the term is probably one of the most over-used stock phrases in the genre) and going ahead and doing the deed using some lame justification like not wanting Tulip – the head harem guy (who is a story in himself; I cannot decide who is copying whom between Tulip and Arsenio Hall's Semi in Coming to America) – to get all killt-n-stuff. And all this yes/no/maybe/sometimes vacillation takes place in the span of about five minutes. You know – as those internal debates always do with us girls. Ummm…yeah. And then, within the span of one lame-assed speech by F Murray Sultan, Aimee changes her mind and shtups him anyway. Cos F Sultan Murrayham is just enchanting like that. Yeah. Because it is important to F Sultan Murrayham that Aimee wants him for *him*, not 'cos if she doesn't do It he is going to have her all killt-n-stuff. Which, of course, she does do. It, I mean. What girl wouldn't, you know?
This was so very clearly written by a man. Snort.
And during all this, *I* am thinking that a more accurate portrayal would have F Sultan yapping on about the natural inferiority of womenfolk or somesuch whilst Aimee gets unceremoniously dumped out of a rolled-up carpet and goes nattering on about how she hears weasels and sees racoons in birthday hats and entertains herself by making vapour-trail hands, then the sex lasts two minutes and she is tossed back into the harem on her tuchas to come down off the drugs.
Now we see why I am not asked to write soft-core porn for Cinemax. Sigh.
I was just messaged by Meg, who said that if she takes Moneymaker out of this tournament, she gets a trip to the Playboy Mansion. Ok, that is too funny. Sexist much, Poker People? He is at her table right now (or was and will be after the break, I don't know), and told someone else (the rest of the table is male) that Meg is the only one he could try to run a bluff on 'cos she was the only one who would not call just to get the trip. Ha.
Anyway, I need to finish up some drafts from the past few weeks since I have today free; the way the past month has gone, I have done little but start one post after another and then abandon it. Grr. I am still doing three jobs, and that may not change until December. I can try to move to a consultancy position on one, but not the one that I *want* to do that on. I have not decided what I want to do. Again, grr.
Stuff I'm late on: