Caterwauling

Ooh, the Big Three — Clay, Ruben and Kimberely — are together onstage as contestants for the last time tonight.

I agree with Simon — let’s vote off Ryan Seacrest in favor of keeping the stars together one more week. 🙂

Justin Guarini is singing “Unchained Melody.” Didn’t Clay just sing that last night? Clay sang the shit out of it, and Justin sounds like a whiny flea in comparison. Lucky for him that he’s no longer competing!

Tamyra Gray looks like a mixed-race Tori Spelling. But she blew me away with her performance of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” How did she not win last year’s competition?

Fascinating how pop tarts like Britney and Christina and Destiny’s Child make it to the top of the charts, yet when it’s America deciding with text messages who should be our heroes, take a good look at the Top 3 — different colors, shapes, sizes and images.

Oooh, we’re about to find out who stays. …

*tension*

How many breaks can a show take? Sheesh, I know the advertising money is damn good, but shouldn’t the show have more than 50 percent of its time taken up by the actual program?!?!

*More Diet Vanilla Coke commercials*

*bursts into tears at Kimberley montage*

I love them all. I might have thrown a dozen votes Clay’s way, but I’ve fallen in love with these characters — they have been my dates every Tuesday and Wednesday night for the past eight weeks. Fare thee well, Kimberley. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around somewhere soon!

Hi, I’m Dawn, and I work for Dipshits.

*hi Dawn!*

Okay, I told you the story that I assigned an article to Scott, only for us to later learn that it was being written by someone else (um, why wouldn’t anyone tell me, the editor who would be receiving it?). Frustrating, but it gets worse.

I called said outside writer today to remind her that tomorrow at close of business is my editorial deadline. Nervous Norman had not told her that it was tomorrow, but it should be no problem for me to receive it then. She proudly said, “It’s under 900 words, as promised.” I said huh? and said that it would be acceptable up to 1,500 words. It was her turn to say, huh? and wonder aloud why she had been instructed to write such a tight article when she could have used double the words. I said that’s the way around here — the chain of communication is like a maypole, so in the future, please stick to 1,500 words and call first if she needs to exceed that.

There. Done. Problem solved for a future issue. Why don’t these dildos just let me do my job in the first place?!?!

The word was out of my mouth before I realized my habit of creating my own vocabulary to fit situations. Look out, Merriam-Webster! I anticipate this will make it into the dictionary before “shock and awe” does. Or should it be “stuporvisor”?

My stupervisor is mad at me for missing our regulary scheduled stupervisory meeting. I had an exhaustive conference call at 10, and my stupervisory meeting is a standing date for 11 a.m. But we never meet at 11. I have to wait till she’s ready, which usually entails me running down the hall about 10 times till I get good and pissed, checking with her never-busy secretary to see when our meeting is supposed to start. Eventually, Demure hunts me down and tells me to come to her office — usually around 11:40.

I’m always busy, but today I’m swamped. Hella swamped. So today, I left my door open and didn’t bother wandering down there. Around 11:45, I sent an update e-mail, telling her essentially in what position my underwear was lodged, it was so detailed. She zipped back a snarky response, and I quote, “I would have appreciated an e-mail or a phone call or a quick drop in to say — May I send you an update, I need to use this meeting time to work on the paper.”

Fuck you. Fuck you, you crotchety woman who has nothing better to do than to chastise me for getting caught up in doing my job instead of cowtowing to her for a useless meeting. Honestly, my e-mail said all I needed to say, and it didn’t require more than 90 seconds of my time. Meetings with her run the gamut from 60 to 90 minutes, at which time I am more glazed than a Krispy Kreme fresh out of the oven. And I always end the meetings. Always. She could just keep me in there forever, if she could. Damn, am I that lovable? At any rate, I refrained from saying all of this, in favor for saying that I just realized what time it was, so sorry that it wasn’t in person, but here’s the status quo. So, in effect, I did not hide or run away — I just chose not to be locked into her den of inequity for an hour when I could have been working (and blogging!).