Caterwauling

My alter poet is …

Way to go, your alter poet is Jack Kerouac, who is
by FAR the coolest!

Who is Your Alter Poet?
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Some of my other favorite Jack Kerouac quotes:

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!'”

“All our best men are laughed at in this nightmare land.”

“A kind of lyrical ecstasy possesses young Americans in the springtime — a feeling of not belonging in any one place or in any one moment, a wild restless longing to be elsewhere, everywhere, now!”

How was “American Idol”? I missed it, not like I was planning to watch it anyway.

The focus group went well. It was all about smart-chip technology being put into retail items. They wanted to know what skeeves us out about it and what benefits we would hope to see it bring. It was kind of interesting, actually — it incorporated privacy issues, inventory tracking, environmental concerns, legislation, fears of people with illegal product tracking devices being able to know what’s inside our homes and/or making us susceptible to being mugged, etc. And, the question of the night was whether this new technology would do more harm than good.

In any event, it was weird sitting in front of a mirror knowing we were being observed and videotaped. I kept making faces at the mirror, but it encouraged me to spew my opinions more — figured I should earn my little stipend that, essentially, compensated for one of the furlough days I had this month.

I’m participating in a focus group tonight on public policy issues. Hah! Like I know what the hell is going on in this world. 🙂 I’m almost scared at the ass I will inevitably make of myself. But I need the money to take care of Angry Kitty and Pudge Ball’s vet bill, so wish me luck!

I am bummed because of my working weekend that I did not have the opportunity (or energy, for that matter) to attend the women’s rally in D.C. this weekend. Scot went, though, and took some awesome photos. Go visit — it’s a lot more interesting than what’s going on on THIS page today!

Famous last words from yours truly. 🙂

I’ve been working practically nonstop for weeks. Yesterday, after some initial drama from a last-minute advertiser who couldn’t get their ad in on time, much less follow my directions to submit a PDF (fuckers sent a Quark file, so I had to haul ass into the office at the crack-o-dawn to make a PDF to send to the print shop because the Quark file was too big for them to receive via e-mail), the paper went up on press.

This, of course, would be a joyous event, but my paper went on the orange press, which I pitched fits about months ago because the paper looks like SHIT every time it’s on the orange press. The paper gets wrinkled, lines end up going through some of the paid ads because the rollers on the press are old and tired, and the colors get washed out.

So of course, when I was unimpressed with initial copies and I realized that I was on the crappy press, I got bitchy and said, “Bring me someone I can bitch-slap.” So my wonderful customer service reps brought me their supervisor, and I told her, look, we have been on the yellow press for the past two months, and those were the only copies of the paper that looked respectable, and we are running a special issue (which is our No. 1 best-read issue of the year) this month — it’s full of photos and I am not overly pleased with how it’s turning out. I said it’s a shame when I feel like I need to call ahead and say, “Hey, it’s a special issue. Can ya make sure it doesn’t look like hell?” because every issue should look great. What went unsaid is that I spend a quarter-million dollars there each year, and while I really do appreciate how accommodating everyone there is, I can’t really settle for the paper looking bad.

So, I got to decide whether to keep printing and adjusting the machines or to leave and go on the yellow press on Wednesday. I chose the latter, and so it goes that I wasted nine fucking hours of my life, staring at the walls, yesterday. Angie will oversee the press run on Wednesday — I am officially off till Thursday, although I did leave a message for my boss that it hardly seems fair that we worked three weekends and two furloughs this month, only for me to beg for and get two lousy comp days.

I saw a job opening at a political organization I support. It was posted a month ago, but I am so qualified for it, it isn’t even funny. I think I’m going to call and inquire about it — not that I am gung-ho to work for yet another employer, but I think I have given everything and then some to my (dis)organization, and what’s sad is my colleagues are angry on my behalf but I’m too tired to be angry or anything other than grateful to park my ass on the couch and not think about the crises for 48 solid hours.

I haven’t been in my e-mail in almost a week. I only wonder how many ads for “Vi@gra” are awaiting my “delete” button. …