Caterwauling

Long, rambling questions as always! But at least we have questions to quench our thirst for the knowledge of the mundane, trivial yet surreal thoughts that actually we shouldn’t even admit to have crossing our minds. …

1. The lame, mundane original Friday Five has officially shut down, due to the obvious burden suffered by Heather, who simply can no longer go on coming up with such brain-teasers as “What is your job?”. But she made sure to thank those in the blog community for sending her “notes of support and encouragement,” as if she were sequestered in a laboratory somewhere, frantically working 24/7 sans nourishment to develop a cure for cancer. But the writers of the Friday Five will give credit where credit is due to Heather for the “five questions each Friday” idea, and dedicate this question to her. It’s about quitting. What is the habit you’d most like to give up? How long have you been doing it, and have you tried to quit in the past? The writers of the Friday Five want you to know that you have our support and encouragement.

I’ve been Friday Five-ing for at least two years. Ya gotta give credit to Heather and posse for introducing the masses to memes, and let’s face it, they hung in there a pretty long time. Sure, I’ve had my gripes about repeated questions from week to week, but I was never lacking in (albeit lame) blog content nearly every Friday. I never submitted any questions, so I suppose it is my fault entirely that the original Friday Five died a lonesome death this month. Nor, of course, did I go onto the message boards and squeal “Mine are up!” nor did I post the answers on the message boards.

That said, I keep trying to quit smoking. This month is supposed to be THE month, but like my friends say, I really DO quit smoking … every single night when I go to bed!

2. A wise man once said at a bar, “For $2 million, I’d endorse genocide.”

Actually, Scott said this, in reference to Rafael Palmiero’s Viagra ads. Well, the big ado in sports this week involves Major League Baseball first agreeing to sell ad space on bases for a lame summer movie, then changing its mind after fans threw a fit. What product would you most proudly

endorse across the back of your shirt, and conversely, what would take the most money for you to advertise (considering we’ve established that nothing is technically off-limits)?

I endorse abortion at any stage — especially if the blob is 50 years old, particularly if they are holding their positions hostage in the workplace and the rest of us will never ascend because they refuse to keel over and just admit they should’ve been put to pasture two decades ago.

What would take a lot of money for me to advertise? Hmm. I cannot conceive of wearing designer T-Shirts that cost $200 and have the name of the clothing company on them. Fuck it, for $200, the shirt better throw me on the kitchen counter and lick me till Niagra Falls starts gushing!

3. Lots of people are freaking out about the return of the cicadas, those freakin beetle-like things that come out of the ground every 17 years, live for two months, then die. What were you doing in 1987? And, if you spent 17 years underground, what would you first do upon crawling out of it?

In 1987, I was in middle school, so I was wearing neon tie-dyed shirts, white jeanskirts and frosted jeanjackets with fringe. Seventh grade was a rockin’ year. 😉

At my job, I feel like I’ve spent 17 years underground. Only thing is, I wish my coworkers would crawl back into the ground and just put themselves out of their misery. 🙂 But if I were to crawl out, I’d need a shower. No ands, ifs or buts about that — I’ve never been dirty like that in my life!

4. Billed as “America’s favorite sitcom,” the finale of the never-ending show Friends aired last night. NBC did not disappoint cynical media-watchers (like the writers of the Friday Five) by shamelessly promoting the episode as “historic.” Endless montages of highlight moments of the show marked its “decade of laughs.” Have you ever laughed with Friends, or just at it? If you could hit one cast member over the head with a tire iron – and only one, so choose wisely – who would it be and why?

Oh shut up. I watched the finale. I didn’t want Ross and Rachel together, but there would’a been a HUGE public outcry (similar to Jennifer Hudson getting the boot off “American Idol” two weeks ago).

And for that matter, I’ve seen nearly every episode of “Friends” in its decade-long run, although mostly in syndication.

Hit one cast member over the head with a tire iron … hmm. David Schwimmer’s “Ross” irritated the shit out of me, but that’s because I dated someone who reminds me of him. Now if I could hit THAT guy over the head with a blunt object. …

5. DC is tragically un-hip, as we are all aware, yet it makes paltry attempts to keep up with celebrity fanfare. Last week’s White House Correspondents’ dinner is a prime example — most celebrity invitees were no-shows, and lame local newscasters glowed with the privilege of being there. Should we continue this pathetic tradition, hoping one day it will revive and bring in more of the beautiful people, or just give up and announce to the world, “hey DC is not cool”? On a promising note, Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson are in town right now shooting a new film. If you could take them to one DC establishment for cocktails, which would it be and why?

D.C. is cool except for the fact that it’s raining like a motherfucker tonight and we are going out on the town. Which means that we will park 100 miles from our destination(s) and have to get soaked, so the perfect coiff and cosmetic job is going to look like shit the second I step out the door.

In any event, I’m not a huge fan of Vince nor Owen, so I would take them to Nation, get them high and watch them get butt-fucked in the rafters. 🙂

Oh, hell, while I’m working on the Veggie Patch Playset (and seeing as though I’ve already mentally checked out), I might as well give you a Queen of the Underworld update.

She e-mailed yesterday to tell me that she thinks having a cartoon on page 3 is tacky and that I essentially need to bury it in the back of each issue (um, where I bury her monthly column? heh). At our recent conference, she told me to my face that we should get rid of the cartoon and run Spanish articles in its place (and in 100 other places). She is supposedly honored for her commitment to promoting many cultures in our profession, but between us, she only gives a flying shit about the Hispanics and the other Spanish-speakers who refuses to assimilate to our country’s culture, language and other ways. In any event, we had a big ole brawl at the conference (witnessed by Cruise Director, Demure!TM and Pride Fag, with no intervention on any of their parts) for the fact that she wants the articles printed in Spanish and that it will be a hit. Yeah — tell that to the people in Podunk Iowa and Redneck Montana who don’t speak Spanish. It’s a national paper, people.

Cruise Director handled her for me … by blowing her off in the nicest way possible. But she is clear that she’s out for blood, and when I had asked her to show me hard numbers of the demand for Spanish translations, she couldn’t. So I want to do a survey on what language(s) our readers speak and read. So, of course, I can throw it in her face that only her ballot-stuffers want their monthly newspaper to be in a different language.

I had asked her way back when why I should go for Spanish. What about those who speak Arabic, Mandarin, French, German or Hebrew? Will I have to translate every article into every language? She talks about not excluding people — but, of course, only if they share her descent.

I hate that fucking cuntbag. I hope someone cuts her hair with a machete next time she strolls into a beauty salon. I hear she’s going to be in town on my birthday — weep for me.

Speaking of my birthday, I am entitled to the day off, but Frosty the H.R. queen scheduled a mandatory team-building session. I told my boss that I have no desire to ring in my 30th birthday with these assholes in a mandatory meeting. No response from her on that, of course! But for Christ’s sake, I hate most of these fuckhats and would never, ever want to acknowledge that we are on the same team — most times, it’s like we’re all working against each other. And a miserable day together won’t help.

According to Frosty, this session (to be conducted by her best friend, with whom I have had several negative run-ins because she’s a fucking idiot who doesn’t know the first thing about good working environments) is a REWARD for us putting up with the furlough days. How can it be a REWARD when it’s a MANDATORY WORK SESSION on my fucking BIRTHDAY?!?! Here’s a thought: give me back some of my money! I still haven’t paid rent, and now I owe a $50 late fee so that they will revoke the automatic eviction notice.

Will I ever get a moment’s peace? Clearly, not if I continue to stay here. But working here has brought me some gifts I wasn’t quite expecting, and I have maximized my opportunities and built connections with wonderful people whom I wouldn’t have met otherwise. But I feel like this trailer-with-the-wheels-shot-off is sinking into the Potomac, and all we have is a couple of crazy straws from 7-11 to bail ourselves out with.

I swear, you can’t win for losing around here.

I have been meeting with our new director about various ideas we both have. I also forward him professional inquiries that are beyond my scope of practice (and, for that matter, understanding). Recently, I sent him an inquiry that intrigued me, and I said that I would like to be copied on the answer because I think it would make for a really good story for a coming issue.

So what did dicknugget do? He answered the inquiry, then forwarded it to me and copied half of Creation, saying, “Dawn, I think this would make for a really good story in the Veggie Patch Gazette.” There is, of course, no hint of my original e-mail to him in which it was clearly MY IDEA!

Where’s my pencil? I think I need to perform a tracheotomy on him now.

Fine fucking way to start a weekend, eh?

I just got my claws sharpened, and what a bloodbath that was. 🙂 But my nails are pretty, so I feel pretty and witty and light. 🙂

For the first time, I got a lip wax. Holy friggin’ crap did that sting! For all the fun I poke at Pussy Demure!TM, I figured I’d better make sure I have my own girliness in check before I start in on her. The bad news is that I must be allergic to the wax, ’cause it’s been almost an hour and my face is still red. Gaah! I look like a fuckin’ freak of nature.

I had to get purty, though — tonight is Bryan’s bachelorette party, and we have Shawn’s long-awaited graduation on Sunday. Woo hoo! I’ve essentially cut myself off from the world for the past two months, and I had to be able to make my re-debut into socializing again. But damn, bein’ pretty hurts!