Caterwauling

I have been recording my trials and tribulations about work because I want to write a book about it eventualy. Not this workplace, per se, but in general — after I’ve made a success of myself with my own company, I want to write about why everyone should go off on their own. And when I hit some low points with my business, I want to be able to look back on my experiences, so that I can re-fuel my fire when it wanes and remind myself why I took the risks to go out on my own.

But in this information age of computer literate managers (imagine!), as well as after reading and hearing about dismal terminations after an employee’s weblog was found, I think I need to keep my work posts tucked safely into my draft mode. I suppose that means that I’ll have to blog about news and other wacky goings-on in the world, but so be it. Even though I have never once referred to Club Medicated by its real name, nor have I identified the players by anything other than terms like Town Crier, Mouth Almighty, Solitaire and others, I think it’s time to retire these online characters for the sake of my job. I do like my job, just not the other players in the game. And I want to leave on my own terms, not because they fire me because they don’t like what I have to say about them.

I know that our company webmaster trolls MetroBlogs, of which I am a member. When the webmaster showed me the MetroBlog map, I could have shit a brick, because I’m on it, right at the stop where we work. He saw me blogging at our convention in March, and he asked my blog address, but I wouldn’t give it, nor would I even visit my own site, as he could have checked the history of the computers we used. If he’s found this haven, well, I haven’t heard about it. Nor would I want to. Again, I am definitely leaving that job, but definitely not for awhile and definitely not on their terms.

At any rate, bear with me while I change my focus in the coming days. I may post less, but really, would that be a bad thing? 😉

I was chatting with Shawn the other day about blow jobs (as we’ve both given many in our lives!). I declared that I hate giving BJs. Don’t worry men — I don’t hate the act itself (unless you push my head down and force it to stay there — I promise, you will get bitten if you try to pull that shit — put your hands behind your head, and nobody gets hurt!), but I hate it that BJs are always, always expected, yet men don’t equally expect to GIVE as well as receive. At least, not most of the men I’ve been with, although some did, unquestionably, give till it hurt. 😉

So I decided that I will give one and only one blow job to any guy I meet in the future. Shawn said that I should get a special badge for that, like they gave us in Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts — would that fall under the Community Service Projects category? ROFL. That way, once I’ve earned the badge, I am under no obligations to go beyond the call of duty — not unless it’s a badge you have to renew every year or re-earn when you “fly-up,” as they call it, to the next level of scouting. 😉

Unless, of course, I find a Boy Scout who’s interested in re-earning his badge in the returns department — in that event, I have no problem with eating meaty popsicles or perpetually cream-filled eclairs on a regular basis!

Seems I’ve been doing my job a little bit too well. Ad revenue went up considerably since I stepped into my job — which therefore meant that I stepped up the editorial content — and so I’m producing mega-size issues of the Veggie Patch Gazette. But now, folks are a bit concerned because I’ve officially blown my printing budget.

You know, I work for a national company, and our members don’t really think of it as a membership — they think of it as a subscription to my paper. I’ve gotten many compliments from these members on the content and usefulness of my magazine. But now, it’s looking like I’ll need to pull in the reins and stick to 40 pages, come hell or high water, from now till doomsday.

Which is too bad, because there are so many story ideas and ads, and even though the manpower is limited, we’re still kicking ass and not afraid to do so. I told Demure that Cruise Director, then, needs to decide what he wants to do, because I always plan for five stories (usually more) and then, in midstream, he assigns two or more extra stories that are meant to either get someone out of his hair or pat them on the ass so that they will leave him alone for awhile. And what that means I do is to take on all the stories, which then have to be crowded into the paper.

She attempted to throw it back on me, to say that if I’d just give him a yearly calendar of special issues, he wouldn’t do that. I said I wasn’t falling for that — I would write and/or assign five stories on any given month. But now that my freelance budget is reduced, and now that Cruise Director has taken what’s left of my freelance budget so that we can write these pat-influentials-on-the-ass types of stories, I feel like I’m going to go postal. I don’t expect her to actually help me or give me any good advice — I just thought I’d sound the warning bell as to why I’m burned out. *Poof*

I haven’t blogged about The New York Times’ Jayson Blair because I want to hunt him down and kill him. But his horrific poetry, found on TSG’s site, is worth a cackle, especially the third one. He can’t even spell! How the FUCK did the NYT hire this little piece of shit? Wait, I already know — don’t answer me, or you’re going to hear some not-very-nice words about quotas, given that I’m the same age and have comparable, if not better, experience than that worthless piece of shit.

I hate it when my site is down. It’s amazing how a little fire in a little room can literally rip the plug out of half the blogosphere.

I just had a revelation, and what do I do with it? I probably wouldn’t have written it about here anyway, but it feels good to at least acknowledge that an exclamation point randomly appeared over my head. 😉

Had a fucked up dream that my association was hosting its convention at the same time and place as my high school reunion. I was running into (and away from) people I haven’t seen in 10 years, and of course I was avoiding my toxic colleagues at all turns. Finally I did stop and talk to some of the folks from high school. There’s one in particular, JO, whom I miss once in awhile, but I ignored him in the dream and talked to the girl I used to call Tuna — odd because I really, really couldn’t stand her when we were in the same circle of sharks (um, I mean friends).

The “Daredevil” soundtrack arrived in the mail yesterday. Just opened it — it completely rocks my frog socks!

I’m feeling weird. Not terrible, just out of sorts. But in a good way. Yeah, I hate being here at work, but if my instincts are correct, I’m going to have a kickass summer. And I’m finally in a position to accept that it’s about damn time a little bit of happiness came my way. 😉 Maybe 29 is going to be “my year”!