Coming soon — my professional website, where you will be able to hire me and pay me extraordinary amounts of money for my expertise in
Professional/technical writing
Editorial services (writing, editing, Associated Press style expertise)
Event planning
Media relations/promotions
Keep checking back for updates, or e-mail me at dp AT thisdomain DOT com for a private consultation.
Thank you for visiting!
Time for the Caterwauling hacineda to close up shop (and possibly move). Sitemeter stats scared the hell out of me today — unless I was reading my blog for 300 minutes from work today (which I was NOT), there are some folks who got an eyeful.
The thing is, I bust my ass. I really do. But I bitch. A lot. Which one wins out in a battle over whether I should keep or lose my job? I doubt anyone would understand that this outlet for my frustrations has probably saved THEIR lives! 🙂
Ironic (again) that this would happen on the eve of Journal Con. Sigh.
In brighter news, I received my kit of lubes and vibrators and catalogs today. Yay! No matter what happens to the job I already have, I have a little Plan B. Not enough money to survive here in the big city, by any means, but everything happens for a reason, and whatever happens, I will survive it. I always do.
In any event, I own a bunch of other domains and may be switching to one of those. If that happens, e-mail me and let me know that you want to know where I am!
On iTunes: Athenaeum, “What I Didn’t Know”
After an incredibly shitty fucking week,
1. I spammed myself. Not as in, oh shit I got spam from my own domain. Oh, but no. One of my accounts got spammed from an entirely different e-mail account. It was inevitable, I suppose, but somewhat funny. This is assuming, of course, I still had any capacity to smile.
2. After a scare of having no check for my designer (read: no magazine layout would be in my hands till payment was made), I walked in to receive two checks for the same thing for him. LOL. I don’t even know where to begin on figuring that one out!
3. Somebody once again didn’t balance her checkbook and onlyl has $14 till Monday (which won’t exactly cover valet parking at the Helix). Assuming the organization makes payroll (and it’s hit or miss, I understand, this time around), I might get money on Saturday. Too bad I can’t keep one of the checks I mentioned in No. 2!!!
On iTunes: David Gray, “Say Hello, Wave Goodbye”
Emotionally and physically exhausted. Worked my ass off this week. Pissed off a lot of people. Have to face the wrath of most of them first thing tomorrow.
But I have to give props to Cruise Director. I’m certain he hates me more than ever right now, but he’s making things right — coming in from his vacation to cut a much-needed check for me in a time of absolute organizational financial distress. He’s leaving it on my desk for when I come in tomorrow.
I only went in for a teleconference today; lord only knows what’s on my desk. I know there are some vicious notes about Dumb Bitch and some resume paper. 🙂
Everyone can hear it in my voice that I am just through with the world. I work too hard for too many things. My goal is just to get the paper out — unfortunately, that encompasses entirely too many “other duties as assigned” that boil down to what my mom would call “licking dick” to get what I need.
Boy are my jaws tired!!!
On iTunes: Bon Jovi, “Two-Story Town”
New hospital gowns designed for modest Muslim women are a growing trend to ensure the modesty of all patients nationwide. As if you can retain ANY shred of dignity when you’re in medical care!
Look, I don’t give a FUCK what my hospital gown looks like. If I’m in one of those death wards, believe me, the least of my problems is having a slight breeze up my ass. Really. Let’s try improving patient care and not having the doctors and nurses killing their patients from ineptitude or neglect. The Muslim community is wetting its pants with joy that its concerns are impacting the entire country. Yeah, let’s get you people a medal. Christ. I refuse to be impressed till we cure cancer or contain AIDS or, fuck, reduce the number of malpractice lawsuits.
On iTunes: Shawn Colvin, “If I Were Brave”
You know I’m swamped if it’s 9:30 p.m. and I’m still working and that I know I’m in for the long haul with editing shitty submissions and rewriting/researching.
That said, I received a press release from some dipshit on Thursday. I read it and filed it into the “maybe” pile for story ideas. I just saw an e-mail come through on the work account from the same idiot (it’s a crappy AOL addy too — it looks like spam). In the subject line was “Courtesy of a response expected.”
Here’s your response:
Dear Fucker,
You wanted a response. Here it is, asshat. I receive thousands of press releases a month. And even though I tell Bacon’s, Burrelle’s, PR Newswire and all of its counterparts that I have four specific topic areas, their clients don’t listen, and of those press releases I receive, only about 10 of them a week are worthy of a second glance. Of those 10, maybe three will ever go into my “to consider” pile. Harassing me to tell you that I wasn’t impressed with your stupid news is NOT a good idea. I have 109 unread/unanswered e-mails in my personal account, which by the way I cannot open because Entourage is being a bitch and won’t let me work online. I do not have the time/energy/mental capacity to respond to people who matter to me, let alone your sorry ass.
I have also sent out hundreds of press releases in my day. Thousands, perhaps. And yes, it is protocol for the person/entity with the news to follow up to ensure that the media outlets have in fact 1) received your release, 2) have an interest in it and 3) might someday want to follow-up with a story or at least a mention in my “headlines” section where I run coherent press releases in which I think my readers might have an interest. For the overworked member of the media with one full-time staff person and two part-time staff persons, the fact that I even read your news is a personal achievement. You should congratulate yourself for getting all of your grammar and facts correct, because I will trash any release that has even a single mistake in the subject field or in the headline (an insight into my weeding-out process, if you will).
Here’s a tip: Ditch the stupid AOL screenname. Then ditch AOL. Buy a fucking domain name and get a website where I can investigate you and make sure you’re not really running a crack house or laundering money.
And here’s another tip: you were the asshole who dragged the word “courtesy” into this. Let the Goddess Dawn give you some lessons on courtesy. Target your news to appropriate news outlets. Mine is one of them, so you’ve done well so far. Then, learn your editor’s production schedule. Sending me a press release when all hell is breaking loose in my professional world is not the wisest idea. I will dutifully skim it and file it, but I will likely FORGET about it unless someone calls and charms the pants off of me. (Sidenote: charming the pants off of me is relatively easy. A compliment, a mention that you hope to be able to work with me … fuck, a couple of bloody marys! … and I will de-pant myself, if I feel the urge.)
Bottom line: develop a relatonship with your friendly neighborhood editors. Particularly those of us who are short-staffed — we may just invite you to write a column or an op-ed piece and work with you on that instead of finding the time to interview you and write our own story (although, let’s face it, we would write it better ourselves, but this is the difference between getting some press and getting no press. Take your pick). I will not pay you for your submission, as it is the volunteer writers who breathe the life into our six regular columns. But you’d get your name “out there” and will drum up interest from people in your field who could help you just as much as I can.
Oh, and here’s a thought — try treating your e-mail like a business call. Meaning, sending it to me at 10 p.m. or during a weekend isn’t going to endear you to me. I am more likely to read it while my ass is parked at the computer for the traditional 9-to-5 timeslot that I am expected to show up and function in the workplace. Yes, I work odd hours (nights/weekends), but I work those hours so that I am not disturbed by phones, faxes, e-mails or pain-in-the-ass colleagues.
In closing, don’t EXPECT anything, you insufferable twit. You’re not the only one making news. And I am a genius at budgeting not only my time, but also my financials (at work, not at home, just to clarify). My magazine costs a bundle to produce, and we don’t have a lot of people producing it; I pride myself on ensuring that our time and our page real estate is expended wisely. And you’ve got a long way to go from being even near the MIDDLE of my priority list.
Fuck you for writing.
Love,
The Goddess Dawn
(On behalf of the Veggie Patch Gazette)
On iTunes: Alter Bridge, “Open Your Eyes”
Great day, full of food, friends and fun. But, alas, I’m feeling out of sorts at the moment.
Had a big kick-ass cookout today and got to see people I haven’t had to my place in ages. The apartment is looking cute with some of the new furniture Shan gave me before she moved, and I’ve supplemented it with some trendy rugs and accent pieces of my own. I was thrilled that several special people made it to the soiree, and those who couldn’t were in touch by phone. All in all, a fabulous day filled with creative, intelligent people with gentle souls. I didn’t feel like I spent a lot of quality time with everyone, though — I was busily grilling salmon and other sumptuous goodies on the balcony while everyone else enjoyed the blasting a/c (and my jalapeno hummus and my tomatoes-and-mozzarella-in-vinaigrette) inside. But I sent everyone home with doggie bags (my Italian genetics always show through when I cook!), so I admit I like taking care of everyone. 🙂
The problem, though, is that I find myself getting close to people but then somehow pulling away when it matters most — when I realize it matters to me. I meant to be flippant when I offered an apology for continually intruding into someone’s life. Really, I thought I was making a joke. But I ache to admit there is some underlying, unintentional truth to the statement — a sentiment I didn’t wish to share at the time. There are people who are becoming increasingly important to me and are more and more welcome in my life with each passing day, and I really want and need their friendship. And I think my hurt showed — hurt that I didn’t notice before. I ache because it’s not easy — I need to know that I am welcome to come and go as I please — to come around more often, even, if that should be what I would want to do. To not feel like I am forcing myself into their lives … to respect the boundaries but keep questioning them anyway.
How do I say this without saying it? I like being close. I want to be closer. But I’m familiar with reaching out to grasp roses but only ending up with a fistful of thorns. The invisible line keeps moving, and I keep pushing the limit willingly. I just wonder how much of it is that I am being humored or if I am really welcome. And I hate it that everything goes so well till I say something ridiculous that’s meant to be a joke, but sentiment that I didn’t know I HAD rears its head. And how do they take it? Do they think I’m a raving bitch or lunatic or what? That I would have motives other than being a friend? That everything I say could be a code for something else or, worse, nothing at all? The door opens, and I find a way to slam it shut in one breath.
It’s like I want to apologize for the apology.
I hate myself sometimes.
On iTunes: Switchfoot, “I Dare You to Move”
In a city as big as Washington, D.C., there are a lot of “first” experiences to be had. And even after two years here, I had a “first” I wasn’t expecting. I saw someone I went out with awhile back. And I never run into people around here, not like when I left Pittsburgh and saw people from my past on every freakin’ corner.
We were sitting in traffic (of course). I was in the passing lane and he was on my right, in a silver car about three feet in front of me. I saw him craning his neck to look in my car. I met his eyes, and remembered him fondly. But then his lane started moving, and he drove away. And I was stunned for a few seconds, but I smiled. He looked good. And I was just glad to be having a good hair day.
I hope he’s well. I don’t want him back, but it was interesting to see him. I missed him for a moment. I don’t know where he lives now or what he’s doing; if it were meant to be, it would have been.
I guess we just “borrow” people from the people who come and go in their lives. And I realize that I was meant for someone else (I don’t know who just yet), but I guess we were meant to cross paths today for me to understand that. Fare thee well, my friend.
On iTunes: Barbra Streisand, “Coming In & Out Of Your Life”
I was away from my desk when I got this. And maybe I’m the only one who sees the humor in it, but what the hell. 🙂
CT: Hi, guess who?
CT: See if you can figure it out from the name and the fact that you only gave this name to one person
CT: An amazingly talented funny and Adonis-like wonder of nature who is supremely humble
CT: and worthy of worship
CT: tearful worship
CT: worship me!
CT: Worship me!
CT: well, when you are done smoking, worship me.
The irony? I was out smoking. 🙂
On iTunes: Tracy Chapman, “The Promise”
Anybody else lose power for half the night? I fucking hate hurricane season, but at least I didn’t lose power for seven consecutive days like I did with that evil bitch Isabel. Yet, anyway.
On iTunes: Benassi Bros. f/ Sandy, “Illusion”