Caterwauling

For now, anyway.

My beloved Clay didn’t win “American Idol,” but I do wish Ruben well. If only I’d voted 1,300 more times. …

Yeah, I’m bumming. I hate it when my guy doesn’t win. I’m so damn competitive, and it wasn’t even my victory to claim. 😉 I really, really wanted him to win. I know he’ll still have a fabulous career, no matter what happens, though. But he’ll always be a winner to me. 😉

UPDATE: ‘Idol’ to recount votes. Clay for President, anyone?!?! 😉

This morning, when I went to purchase Clay and Ruben’s singles off Amazon.com, Clay’s was the No. 1 seller and Ruben’s was No. 28. I figured that Clay would win “AI,” based on that alone. But I guess with Barry White on his deathbed, people are scrambling to see to it that he’s replaced.

At any rate, Amazon will ship Ruben’s single on June 5, and Clay’s on June 10. I hope they ship them together and earlier. I will be in dire need of a Clay fix soon!!!

Some coffee to go with my bitter? 😉

The real deal

Oh, hell, I’ll say what I’m really thinking. I spent upward of $30 in votes this season, so I have a right to throw in another two cents for good measure. 🙂

I don’t think America voted Ruben as its winner. All of my friends were voting for Kimberley Locke and Clay Aiken. Not saying that Ruben isn’t talented, because he is, but I wondered, too, after the public outcry that Tamyra didn’t win last season, if this were a wee bit rigged this year.

At one point in the season, Ruben was placed in the “Bottom Three” for elimination — I think that was a move strategically done by Fox to get people outraged enough to stop voting for their real favorites and to vote to ensure that Ruben stayed on. Clay never once was in the “Bottom Three,” and not to mention, but the reason Clay even got into the Top 12 was because they had a wild card show in which the public could choose someone whom the judges didn’t choose to push through to the finals.

At any rate, based on this alone, Clay would’ve won the competition. The CD-singles sales figures support this theory. The same people who voted for Idol were buying the CDs, right?

All I can say at this point is that I hope Ruben really doesn’t become the next Biggie Smalls and do gangsta rap — people wanted him because he’s the next Barry White or Isaac Hayes or whatever. At any rate, the talent was supreme this year, and I am pleased that every shape, size and color was represented in the finals. But it still stumps me that, given how racist a lot of America still is, that a clean-cut cute little white boy like Clay didn’t win by America’s supposed vote.

If there is a finding that the competition was rigged, though, the show is over. At this point, they should just be saying that the results stand as-is; and we all know who the winner should have been. 😉

Just to show how little Demure, my supervisor, really has to do in a day:

I give her my articles to read for content only (i.e., to keep us from getting sued). Last week, I gave her one of my articles with that note in bold: Do NOT edit for anything but content.

For my running head, I nicknamed it “Licensure O’Plenty.” Everybody here knows that my running heads are always edited once they are laid out in Quark. And, see above, the article was in need of a re-work from top to bottom, including the head.

Anywho, I just found a note from her on the article. She circled the title and wrote, “Too light a headline for this subject.”

Does she honestly think I’d title a front-page article with that?!?!

That was the worst of it, other than the fact that she EDITED it for transitions and punctuation, when I WARNED her that it was a random collection of quotes and nothing more. Go away, woman, and leave the editing to me. Dipshit.

What was I saying about hoping for a light day? Sweet Jesus, I’m going to be here until Mr. American Idol is crowned tonight. Fuck around!

Breathe, Dawn. The last-minute shitpile is not worth a stroke. Not worth it at all. *sigh*

And I think all the birds had a poo-flinging convention on my car this morning. Samantha’s a mess! Isn’t it enough to simply get shat upon at work?

And are y’all still out there? I haven’t gotten any comments in more than a week!

UPDATE

Apparently I was smoking crack when I wrote my five stories this month, ’cause they are in sorry-ass shape. I’m going to be here till American Idol 2004, getting these corrections made!

Demure stopped into the office at 11, our supposed meeting time. She skulked out just as quickly and avoided me. W00t!

Shan told Finance Guy about Demure calling me a disappointment. He said I should write a letter to Frosty, but I’ll skip it. He mused how sad it is that Demure only supervises two people (Convention Queen and me), and we are both disgusted with her and are doing just fine without her meddling. He’s right — I love being here without Demure hovering over me like a news chopper full of gas and not much else. 🙂

Mac Guy sent me a PDF of the newspaper layout at 4 a.m. He also attached a note saying that, hell, we’re already at 52 pages — how about I come up with 4 more pages, because with 56, we’re freer with wherever we can place color throughout the rag. I replied back, “How about not?”

Paper goes to bed tomorrow. And I’ll be damned if I have to come up with four more pages of content and ads. I busted my boo-tay to get the editorial side together this month, as I do every month. I have no love for this paper right now. None whatsoever. I suggested that he turn my color photos into black-and-whites instead. Frankly, I saw how little reaction I received (positive or negative) on last month’s grand 64-page issue, and I guess I just don’t feel like scrambling for a 56-pager when the 52-pager is almost done. Really, though, it’s not that much more effort, but I just was looking forward to having a light day today, given the fact that I worked through the weekend and put in a 12-hour workday on Monday.

That’s the problem with having to meet my own high standards — it’s impossible to exceed them (i.e., no more 64-page papers in the forseeable future!). Besides, I’ll probably get my ass kicked for spending the extra money on papers above 40 pages, which is all that we’re budgeted for. I suppose that I have a long tradition of agency average to uphold. 🙂

Oh, what the hell. You know I’ll probably end up adding the extra pages. Like, what else do I have to do, other than edit all of them and convert them, page by page, to PDFs? 🙂

It was a nervous night here at Chez Dawn during the “American Idol” finals. I spent the whole hour in a warm foot bath with vanilla-almond bubble bath swirling around my twitching tootsies.

I was nervous because I wanted them both to do well. My boy Clay was nervous at first, no doubt about it. But he and Ruben did spectacularly. Two stars were born tonight.

During the first and second rounds, they alternated fabulousness. I loved Ruben’s performance in Round 1 and Clay’s in Round 2. The other performances simply weren’t their best, but even if those were their worst, they’re still better than most of the Top 40 artists on Billboard right now. But then the guys both came back with a ferocity during their final rounds.

I was torn when it came time to cast my 13 votes, but when it came down to it, Clay gave me goosebumps during “Bridge Over Troubled Waters,” so that decided it.

Overall, Ruben is the better performer. But Clay wants it more — you can tell he can taste the sweetness of success. And when it comes down to it, anyone in the Top 5 of “AI” will get a record deal — maybe even the whole Top 10. I didn’t watch the show last year ’cause the contestants weren’t the least bit interesting. This year, the personalities and the talent were top-notch. And no matter who wins and who doesn’t, I’ll be buying all of their CDs when they’re released anyway. 🙂

The Veggie Patch slogan, “50 years of excellence,” is a source of ridicule in my life. First, Shan and I developed the *real* slogan, “50 years of average,” which Dave topped last night with “50 years of excrement.”

Attended my “leadership” training like a good little girl today. Can we say *joke,* boys and girls? I will never forget how they told us that, as managers, sometimes we “just need to lower our expectations” of our staff.

Honey, at Club Medicated, we’re already doing the fucking limbo. People keep cracking their heads off the floor, that’s how low they can go.

I was fairly infuriated by that. The Veggie Patch is suffering because a person can achieve a “meets expectations” on their annual reviews simply by playing Solitaire for four hours a day, Marbles for two and by squeezing a two-hour lunch break in there.

Actually, that’s not entirely true. For those of us who produce and bust our asses and work weekends, the standards are different. It was articulated very clearly to us today that we need to be writing people up for not coming in on time and for being late with deadlines and what not. I shot up my hand and outlined that I have real problems with that, because I don’t think it’s fair to grade people on whether they were at their desk from 9 to 5 every day for the past year. I also articulated that I would never judge my staff on that, nor should my supervisor grade me on it, either. Personally, I said, “Look, you’ll never see me before 9 — you get me at 9:30 at the earliest — and you probably shouldn’t speak to me before 10. But that aside, you will see me here at midnight, and you get a newspaper every month. We shouldn’t nitpick on the useless details — we should evaluate people based on outcomes, not technicalities.”

The trainer, handpicked by Frosty, gave me the cold shoulder and absolutely ignored the fact that I even spoke. She changed the subject very quickly. I was mad enough to have a spotted cow.

The “lowered expectations” concept arose during this ridiculous video they showed of waves and beaches and what not. Weird little film. I think it was supposed to show us real-life stories from supervisors, but all it did was make me want to book a vacation to Antigua.

The video became downright laughable, when I finally started paying attention to it. A narrator asked us to picture someone in our organization whom we hate. I simply looked across the table to Town Crier and Mailroom Dipshit, and I was set. I also pictured Mouth Almighty and Pussy Demure. I could’ve crammed a few more images in there, but at that point, I was ready to throw up.

Anyway, the narrator told us to picture what that person’s life must be like, the problems they carry, the home life they had/have, the thought processes they have. It later asked us to pretend to walk around in their shoes for a full day (holy cliche, Batman!) and to wonder what they must think when they look at us. I was disgusted. Frankly, I could give a flying fuck about what any of them do after they leave for the day — it’s bad enough that they are all rude, incompetent and/or a waste of a salary during the workday — don’t fucking try to make me pity them. After all, the instructor had just finished telling us to not let our colleagues’ personal problems interfere with our work flow, and there she was contradicted by a cracked-out narrator, telling us to love our cubemates and be glad that we aren’t them.

Shan and I ran for Chi-Chi’s immediately after the training, and we bitched for no less than 90 minutes about the training, the Veggie Patch and the fact that the association says it demands excellence but truly accepts excrement from its longterm employees. And how dare they ever criticize us, when we are among their five top producers?

I’m tired of bitching. So very tired. My blood pressure shoots through the fucking roof when I even think about that place. I left early today (if early is 5:30 p.m.) because the layout is late (some stories were late, including mine) so I won’t see the document until early tomorrow. Oh well. Why should I strive for excellence when “a day late and a dollar short” is the motto of the year?

God damn it.

I suppose it was the weekly medium hazelnut coffee at Dunkin Donuts that is disturbing my sleep, although it never has before. Perhaps it was also the six pre-bedtime cigarettes I wolfed down, after two days without a smoke. Perhaps it is knowing that I have to get up reaaaally early for work tomorrow. At any rate, I’m awake, I’m perky and I’m pissed!

And I’m one itchy bitch, too. I’m certain it’s stress-related, although the only time I’m not breaking out in hives is when I’m driving. Which is surprising, given the sheer insanity of most Northern Virginia drivers. Perhaps I am becoming more accustomed to them. Perhaps — *shudder* — I have become one of them.

I don’t mind being a radical Virginia driver. What I would mind, though, is becoming another pod in the “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” otherwise known as my workplace. Quelle nightmare, Batman! No wonder I can’t fucking sleep.

So I’ve spent the last half hour perusing Apartments.com for giggles. There are some really nice apartment complexes in the area. I’ve decided that I want to move to the City of Alexandria, if for no other reason than, simply, that I’d like it. I gave up on Arlington after I realized that I don’t like my job enough to sit in I-395 traffic twice a day (and Metro-ing it is out of the question). I saw a place that had a den, and it was under $900. Not that I have $900, but if I pick up some freelance work, it could happen. There was another place that has a special for $750, all utils included, that also has hardwood floors. *drool* That one’s definitely on the “to visit” list. After last week’s box avalanche, it would be nice to have enough space to unpack said crushed boxes. 🙂

What frosts my flakes, though, is the outrageous pet deposits and monthly pet rents. I’ve seen anywhere from $200 to $500 for one to two cats. Sweet Jesus! Most humans are filthier than my cat, who only lies on her sofa and occasionally gets up to visit her food station. And to pay up to $30 per month rent for her on top of that is just ludicrous. Until the fabulous feline gets an income of her own, no pet rents. In fact, no telling anyone that I have a cat. Fer crissakes, most people don’t know that I have a cat until she comes out from under the bed and starts begging them for treats and scratches behind her ears. I dumped a ridiculous flat $300 at this joint, and believe me, the humans did a bang-up job on destroying the place a hell of a lot faster than the four-legged creature could ever do.

Seems like everyone’s moving this summer, and y’all know how much I hate not being part of the trend. 🙂 But if I could encourage the Veggie Patch Mis-Management to allow me to work from home more, it might be worth the investment, pain, agony and torture. Hell, I’m already packed from the last move! 😉

I have to be awake in four and a half hours. Fuck me running.

Class was rather anticlimactic. I danced with Dave most of the time and Mike for the rest. We’re down to seven participants in the class. Deirdre is in New Orleans for a tennis tournament, and Bonnie couldn’t make it again, so I hope the whole gang is together for our last class. I see exchanging of phone numbers (certain persons named Mike in particular *wink*) as being mandatory.

I asked Mike what brought him to the class, and he said that he’s the best man in two weddings this summer, and he thought it would be nice to know how to dance at the receptions. *awwwww!!!* How sweet! I almost felt bad for not paying attention and screwing up the steps, knowing that he didn’t even take the class for fun. 😉

I was pleased today when finally, the girls had an easier time and the guys had to twirl around us. Ha! Then, we learned a step where, after the guys twirled, so did the girls. Bah! And then the instructor used me as teacher’s pet to show the rest of the class how to do it. I did fine with her (thank god!) and didn’t manage to kill her, although I did protest vehemently to using me as the model by which the other ladies should learn the steps. 🙂

Next week will just be a review of everything we learned, which should be fun. I never *get* the steps on the night I learn them, but I somehow remember them and do them somewhat correctly the next week, so this should be entertaining, if nothing else. See Dawn dance! See Dawn sign up for classes at Mosaic Makers next. LOL. Dave is talking about taking ASL classes next, but all I ever learned from ASL classes is two different ways to say “bullshit.” Of course, I took the class at Easter Seals, which was nothing BUT bullshit at my particular affiliate (the Western Pennsylvania headquarters in Pittsburgh, for those keeping track of my employment follies).

Dave asked Mike and Stephanie to join us in a donut run, but they declined. I guess things ain’t meant to be there, but oh well. Straight men typically have no interest in hanging out with me — I guess I’ll be a fag hag for life! 😉

I can’t seem to recall ever having been with an Aries, but hell, they can always be next! Of course, I haven’t known half of their last names, let alone their freakin’ sun signs. …

You’ll Fall in Love With An Aries!

You want a lover like Aries, one who knows what he / she wants and goes after it.

You fall for assertive Aries almost instantly… the only sign powerful enough to sweep you off your feet.

Your Aries is dominant and romantic – bringing you lots of adventure.

You are attracted to people who are completely in charge.

Nothing turns you on more than surrendering completely, to the right person.

Symbols of power turn you on – from flashy cars to an Aries with lots of charm.

The trade off is that your Aries has trouble commiting and lack stamina.

You’ll have to try extra hard to make the relationship fresh and fiery.

Keep that burst of passion going past the third date, and you are on your way!

What Sign Should Your Lover Be?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

I didn’t realize that my training was supposed to start today. I rolled in around noon (granted, I’ve been up typing and editing my stories since before 6 a.m.), just as the session was letting out for lunch. Heh. I was busting my butt so I could at least make an appearance tomorrow, which I will, but I’m sure Demure will catch wind of the fact that I worked from home until the exact moment that the training ended, and I’ll hear again what a disappointment I am.

But all in all, I wrote two stories, edited two stories, solved several layout-related issues and an advertising issue during the first six hours of my workday. I still have two more stories to finish and three more sections to tweak, and all of this must be done before 4 p.m. today. And yet they think I have all the time in the world to sit on my ass in a training.

I did get the lowdown from Shan about the training — she said it was good (because it was a non-staff member who conducted it), but that the class was full of the usual assholes, so that kind of ruined it. Tomorrow’s class will be conducted by Frosty, so I know to make an appearance, whether I want to or not!