Caterwauling

Wear your best red guchies on Oct. 7, okay? You KNOW I’ll be wearing some scandalous red knickers myself!!!

Red Panties for Reproductive Choice

… But it sounds like an old George Carlin skit to me!

C’mon kids! Let’s play “hide and go fuck yourself!!!”

Proper English Usage of the ‘F’ Word

IKEA Boy is ready to quit, and I can’t blame him.

Pussy Demure said something to the effect that maybe he needs to look for another job. Like her miserable, 80-year-old crusty ass has any room to talk! Jesus H. It was HER FAULT that the bullshit about being “fired” went through, even though it was a direct quote. But apparently she met with Jackie Chan and H.R. and Howard (WTF?) before meeting with IKEA Boy (sneaky bitch, I knew she was going to do that). She completely made this seem like his fault, which it wasn’t.

Plus, she also made some catty remark that in the 1990s (the topic of his story that’s in question), he was in junior high school. What a cunt! We were out of college, actually, during the events in question, but that was just nasty of her, to imply that she thinks he’s a kid. He could sue her for that. IKEA Boy, if you’re reading this, document that conversation!!!

Now he has left the building, and he just phoned me to say he’s going to quit. I will absoutely freak if he does that … I know I made this 250-mile move for myself, but I am not suffering through this crappy pay and zombie-like work environment if he isn’t here. I swear, if he’s going to New York, I’m stuffing myself in his trunk and going with him. Like I said two posts ago, I can take or leave D.C. — I’m a better person for having lived here, but it isn’t my endpoint.

Blah. I’m being selfish. But I don’t know how to make things better for him in this working environment. I’ve tried to share my knowledge and the hard knocks that Two Strikes gave me. But even I had to know when it was time to walk away from a displeasing job situation. It’s just a shame, because IKEA Boy really throws himself into his work, and he’s always treating the gals in the Pub Club to breakfasts in his office (he knows we have soft spots for Krispy Kreme doughnuts and also for bagels-n-cream-cheese). It just sucks that we work for assholes. But isn’t that the story of our lives?

I just hope IKEA Boy comes up with maybe a revised game plan … it would suck to have to leave on their terms. I’d rather see him demonstrate that today’s debacle made it seem like his professional reputation was questioned, and that he is truly a professional who just wants to end this mess so that we can start the new issue without the specter of this one hanging over our heads. I disagree with our superiors completely, but hey, it’s their money and aggravation, not ours. We’ve done our jobs.

At any rate, just got a quick call from IKEA Boy that he’s meeting with Jackie Chan tomorrow morning. Kiddo, stay cool and say your peace. Do NOT let your (quite justifiable) anger see the light of day. Be the better person. Be better than these assholes — believe me, it’s not hard to do. 😉

Pussy Demure, IKEA Boy’s boss, put her Depends on sticky-side up today. Or do they even have a sticky side? lol — at any rate, somebody’s panties are in a bunch, and hell will be paid.

We have to get our publication reprinted because of one word. One fucking word! IKEA Boy wrote a story about our association in the 1990s, and a former president talked about having to fire an executive director. Well, even though the talk of firing the man was a direct quote, Pussy Demure made us collect all the newspapers that had been distributed, and after a meeting this afternoon with the current executive director, Jackie Chan, we’ll give the go-ahead to the printers to burn $20K to reprint. I think she’s just nervous because she gave us final approval on the article — Jackie Chan didn’t, and he’s usually the final pair of eyes.

I understand that “fired” is an incorrect term, and that as part of the paperwork that documented the man’s exile from our organization, no one was to speak about his leaving on bad terms. Oopsie. But really, that wasn’t our fault internally — the past president who flapped his yapper is of sound mind and knew that his statements would be used for publication. Further, as far as I am concerned, Pussy Demure KNEW she was the last pair of eyes to see the story, because Jackie Chan was out of the office and we had to go to press that day. Furthermore, the story was late because Jackie Chan and the past presidents were late in submitting their interview quotes to IKEA Boy.

As Sheela and I would have said when we were at Easter Seals, “WHAT A PRODUCTION!!!”

From what I’ve gathered, more than 20,000 copies have dropped throughout the country already, leaving 40,000 in limbo at the print shop. Oy vey. We might as well drop the rest and take our chances.

I’m just hoping that this is the worst of it. I can think of a few more things they may question, but as far as I am concerned, any issues dealing with a person’s dismissal should be handled with kid gloves, especially in print. But for the fact that we’re squabbling over a direct quote, well, it seems a non-issue. I just can’t believe we’re going to drop $20K to change ONE WORD!!!!! ARGH!!!!!!!!!!

“Well my time went so quickly,

I went lickety-splickly out to my old ’55

As I drove away slowly, feeling so holy,

God knows, I was feeling alive.

Now the sun’s coming up,

I’m riding with Lady Luck,

freeway cars and trucks,

Stars beginning to fade,

and I lead the parade

Just a-wishing I’d stayed a little longer,

Oh, Lord, let me tell you

that the feeling’s getting stronger.

And it’s six in the morning,

gave me no warning; I had to be on my way.

Well there’s trucks all a-passing me,

and the lights are all flashing,

I’m on my way home from your place.

And now the sun’s coming up,

I’m riding with Lady Luck,

freeway cars and trucks,

Stars beginning to fade,

and I lead the parade

Just a-wishing I’d stayed a little longer,

Oh, Lord, let me tell you

that the feeling’s getting stronger.

And my time went so quickly,

I went lickety-splickly out to my old ’55

As I pulled away slowly, feeling so holy,

God knows, I was feeling alive.

Now the sun’s coming up,

I’m riding with Lady Luck,

Freeway cars and trucks,

freeway cars and trucks,

freeway cars and trucks…”

— Tom Waits, “Ol’ 55” — (covered by Sarah McLachlan in 1995)

Went back to Pittsburgh this weekend and am dealing with a mixed bag of emotions right now about it.

First of all, I’ve been sick for a week and am feeling no better. But I needed this trip. Had to see the family — god knows when it’s going to be the last time you hug them, given their frail health and general lack of wanting to live this life any longer.

I’ve come to enjoy the drive — I’m still a bit of a tense driver, but the scenery was just beautiful. Throughout Pennsylvania, the leaves — which are in plentiful supply — had already begun turning crimson, orange and yellow. The trees in Virginia that aren’t brown and/or dead from dry weather are still green.

Made it a point to actually go into Pittsburgh instead of just hanging out in the ‘burbs. Drove to the South Side with Wobin on Sunday, went to Fat Heads South Shore Saloon, which has the best damn food on the planet, and then we drove up to Mount Washington for old times’ sake. Went past my old apartment, where there used to be a life-size Garfield, which Wobin had made out of construction paper for me. The new tenant had some stupid “Happy Halloween” doo-dad on my door. I know my strange next-door neighbor Tom had kidnapped Garfield, to give him a home because I had been planning to drag him to the curb, along with most of my clothes, books and furniture during those hellacious moving days.

At any rate, I took Wobin to my favorite place on earth, Grandview Park. It’s a tiny park, one that you’d miss it if you blinked, but it has one overlook where you can get the best panoramic view of my old city. I stood there and just sobbed. I realize that the city will always be there for me when I go back, and that’s a big thing for me. Not a building was out of place (post-911 jitters — when I lived there, I always checked the skyline every day and was grateful that it was still intact), nothing seemed different. Only I was different, the oddity. I haven’t explored my new city all that much, but all I can say is that my old city seemed smaller than I remembered it to be. But it was just as beautiful and inviting. The people were so much friendlier and, well, the people who love me most still live there.

It was so hard, being with my family. I love them and will forever admire them for all that they sacrificed (and continue to sacrifice) for me — they would literally give me their last dollars, even if that means that they do without something that they need. My grandfather was all bandaged and bruised from several recent surgeries, yet he handed me some money that he’d hidden away (even from my mother) because he worries that I drive the car on fumes sometimes, waiting till payday to fill it up. Told me to go out and buy myself a good meal at a restaurant instead of trying to make do with whatever I have in the house. And he wouldn’t let me refuse to take it, even though we all know he needs it more than I ever will.

That reminded me of my grandmother, when she was alive, because she would always make sure I had something in my hand when I left from a visit with her. She always made my mom set aside a particular amount from her meager Social Security check for me. She was someone who loved to go shopping and had to have the newest and best of everything, and when she became incapacitated in her final years, it was her joy to know that I could afford to buy pretty things for myself, thanks to her.

And then there’s my mom, who would do anything and then some for me. She baked two little loaves of banana bread (my favorite) an hour before I left the house yesterday (one for me and one for IKEA Boy, to say thank-you to him for letting me sneak away from Virginia for a long weekend) — and she wouldn’t let me leave the house without those. I wish her life were better, and I feel like at my age, I should be helping her out and not the reverse. I feel like I am her twin, though, and not her daughter. Our relationship was always more of a friendship than a mother-daughter interaction. I love that sometimes, I don’t have to say a word, and she knows exactly what’s going on in my head. She feels like we’re losing that ability over the miles, but I think it’s stronger than ever.

I don’t know. Emotional days. First drug-free weekend in three weeks — gaaah!!! That’s when I needed it most!!! lol.

I don’t see myself staying in Virginia for too long, but I suppose I brought back a brand-new appreciation for it. I drove around for a couple of hours yesterday before I went back to the abode. Maddie didn’t even complain all that much — she shut up after we crossed the Mason-Dixon line and only howled when I hit 65 and 75 mph, keeping us out of a ticket, I suppose. lol. I decided that it’s okay to both hate and love my old life, as well as hate and love my new life. And if I could just combine the best elements of the two worlds, I’d be set … and perhaps I can do that, in yet another city. Could I go back to Pgh? Possibly — because I’m already more worldly in certain respects, and I am satisfied with my quick venture into the great unknown. But life has got to get even better than this, and if I would remove the worries about finances, I’d be so much happier here, I know it. Changes keep happening, both good and bad, and I have to keep remembering to roll with the punches instead of trying to fight back. Sometimes, you’ve got to let life flow, even when it sucks, because that just means the rainbow is that much more vibrant when you finally see it.

Before I went on the Turnpike headed home to Virginia, I stopped at my old bank and closed my account … the one I’ve had since I was four years old. It was sad, the finality. I only had two bucks in the account anyway, but it was kind of like closing a chapter of my life.

But Pittsburgh will always be in my heart. No question about that. D.C. isn’t an area where people stay for very long. But Pittsburgh is, and it — and the people in it — will remain embedded within you, even when you think you’ve left it behind.