Caterwauling

George and Cow

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I always said that for as long as Lady L lives in Florida, I don’t need a dog of my own when George has enough cuteness to go around.

So now that she’s leaving, do I need a dog? Meh. Like the UEOEH needs one more reason to stay here.

I think she has amnesia. She forgets all the fights and tension and stress in the house, and texts me about going out to dinner. At a Mexican place. When I’m leaving for Mexico TOMORROW MORNING.

Not to mention, but I haven’t hung out with her since Easter, save for one trip up to Boston’s on the Avenue. She convinces herself I’m embarrassed of her. I’m embarrassed instead that 18-year-old kids can live on their own and I CAN’T.

Today she pitched all the leftovers in the fridge from when she made lasagna and a couple other types of pasta. Then she promptly said to her friend on the phone, “There’s nothing for me to eat here.”

Asshole.

It’s my fault, don’t’cha know, that there is nothing for her to eat at my house?

I left the rent check out. Maybe she will turn it in. I doubt it. I just want her to see how BIG it is — it’s four times what she was paying in Pittsburgh. To see that maybe she can, I don’t know, swing her own car insurance payment or toss in a few $20s for cable each month since she insists on living here.

One of my boys in Ohio said I should visit, if ever I’m in his ‘hood. Methinks it’s time to drive the UEOEH up there, drop her off at the cousin’s house, and fly my ass back alone.

And that, friends, is my Christmas wish. You wouldn’t want to disappoint a girl, would you now, Santa?

Mirror at DaDa

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

This photo has nothing to do with anything, other than that it’s cool. And given that Lady L and I calculated that we’ve dumped about $5,000 into booze and brie at DaDa in the past 10 months, it’s only necessary that I share the decor of the restaurant that we (should) have part ownership in!

I leave for Mexico on Monday. (Yes!) Doing laundry right now. Stayed up late at a Halloween party, so I woke up late. Ah, luxurious AND glorious!

Yesterday was a funny day. My driver’s license got suspended because I didn’t pay a $60 fine. So I had to pay a $150 fine BECAUSE I didn’t pay that fine. Since, you know, I sort of need identification to travel!

I had driven past the Den of Iniquity to the courthouse. As usual, I gave it my double-barreled-salute. Then I got to the courthouse and realized I forgot my fucking wallet. Grr.

I went back to the office, and once again headed past the Den of Iniquity to the courthouse.

I did my double-barreled-salute when … whoops … I noticed my two least-favorite people out on the steps. I think one of them saw my salute and recognized my dented-up car. But I didn’t care. Fuck them, indeed!

Just to see the leader — in the same stupid blue shit/black pants uniform that he wears seven days a week — made me ill. He was, in true form, ranting and flailing his arms and mind-fucking and aurally raping his victim.

God, I don’t miss those days.

I think the other idiot was the one who sent me 3,000-word manifestos every Tuesday on exactly why I suck as a human being. And although I could have matched him word-for-word on any given day, I refrained from answering because I knew that NOT engaging him in dialogue pissed him off more.

Grr, fuck you idiots. FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!!!

I did have a point here.

As I watched some episodes of “Medium” and “Paranormal State” on the DVR this afternoon, I remembered that what we focus on, is what we can’t get rid of.

DailyOM.com said it best: “Giving all of our attention to the unwanted aspects of our lives allows what we resist to persist.”

And hello, UEOEH!

I felt bad for her today. She wanted to go to the Farmer’s Market that is literally a block and a half away.

I had just awakened and had barely had a sip of coffee. She asked me to go. I said no. (I say no to everything in hopes that she will do it herself.)

And true to form, she stayed in the house and missed out.

She said she was afraid to walk by herself because she’s feeling funny and woozy. So I told her to drive — parking is free for market-goers. And she said she’s afraid “about the car.”

I can’t figure that one out. I’ve paid it up. I’ve insured it. I own it. What’s the problem here? She couldn’t answer, other than that she’s “afraid of everything.”

This has been my eternal problem here. I realized many years ago that her problems were too big for me. I can point her toward resources but I can’t make her better.

And I don’t know how to motivate her to take care of things. I can threaten her all I want with eviction and being dropped off at a women’s shelter. But then she worries about what will happen to her, and it paralyzes her, instead of saying hey — maybe I need to follow my little action plan to KEEP me from the streets.

Alas, the point here is that she worries about everything. And does nothing. I don’t worry that much anymore. I probably SHOULD. But meh.

If hanging around with Lady L has taught me anything, it’s that dreaming big means getting bigger things than you have. So I spend a lot of time dreaming that I should spend, oh, working. But it feels good to get out of the here-and-now by looking straight past it and on to the next thing.

Speaking of life being way too short…

There was a woman’s body found in a car at our favorite pizzeria this week — we were drinking there the same day the body was discovered. *shudder* Of course, all my friends started inquiring about the UEOEH’s whereabouts. 😉

Well, I have two parties left this weekend. And a photo shoot. And a shitpile of work. And packing. And trying to catch up with people before I shut my phone off till the 9th.

I really need this escape, but I need for it TO BE an escape. And I am not gonna be that lucky. I am also not confident that I’m not going to shove someone’s Bumpits up their butthole. But that’s a story for another day. …

So we did a teambuilding event for the Florida office today. (We have a joint event in December with the Teamsters … er, the Baltimore office.)

It was a lovely day outside — at least 85 degrees — for several hours in the sun at a new putt-putt place that serves alcohol. How perfect for us!

South Florida: For Alcoholics in Either Recovery or Denial. New license-plate slogan, ahoy!

(Says she with the soon-to-be-suspended license. Le sigh.)

Anyway, I was on a team of three. The guy brought his own putter and consistently hit 2 par. He did well because he takes it seriously.

The other gal is on my editorial team. And she consistently hit 4 on every hole. She is a very consistent performer on my team too — you always count on her.

Then there’s me. From a hole in one … to the maximum six strokes … and everything in between … that’s my performance on the whole. I am as hit-or-miss on the productivity scale as it gets. My ideas are either home runs or you’re fishing them out of the fountain and wondering what they were before they shriveled up.

I found it kind of funny, how a simple 18-hole golf game could turn into a management lesson for me.

My teammates and other teams behind and ahead of us were impressed with some of the shots I made. I had many people ask if I play pool or whether I like to golf. I am the queen of the bank shot. I can sail my little pink golf ball down a straight-and-narrow path like a perfect pinball … zig-zagging beautifully for 50 feet.

But alas, am I all style and no substance, as well, in the office? It happens. A lot. I can talk in circles when I want to … er, when I know I have nothing to say.

Anyway, we all walked away with our livers full of Guinness and our skin full of new pigmentation. And the teambuilding lesson was a simple one: We suck mightily, mighty well together. 🙂

Five days till Mexico. I can make it. I think I can, I think I can. …

I’ve decided I like being in meetings all day because it means I don’t have to do any real work. Now, to figure out how to offload the remaining work!

How (and when) did I get so useless in my old age? Probably when I realized that all those years of working 80-hour weeks could carry me into my 50s. Can’t I take the next 14 years off, then?

I’ve had occasion to think about an old supervisor, whom I called Miss Piss, from my non-profit days in Pittsburgh. I was working hard and, I think, doing a great job. I was also not pleased that I was making a paltry $18K/year until I was 27 even though I raised money (as a grantwriter and event coordinator) for a living.

When I was 26, the company denied me a promotion and eliminated the position above mine. Then they brought in a 28-year-old to be the vice president to whom I reported.

Poor girl was uptight as all hell. She had a million ideas and came in to find out what a useless jackass ran the place. We were a regional branch of a national charity. He had financially burned down a branch in Texas, and I don’t know why they put him in charge of Western Pennsylvania. Crazy talk!

I used to write thousands of thank-you notes and pleas for money under his name. Unfortunately, there was one time that I needed his real signature (not the one I forged so beautifully so that I didn’t have to talk to him). I walked into his office, only to find him sleeping (face on desk) and drooling orange crackers, which he was eating when he must have nodded off.

Yeah, you can see why I wasn’t the happiest of campers.

Anyway, I was great about omitting information for Miss Piss. I didn’t need a layer of management inserted between the president and me. And certainly not one two years older who was brought in at way more than twice my meager salary.

One day, she called me in and gave me a stern talking-to about my piss-poor attitude. That she was only keeping me because I knew my shit and I was good at it. But that she really didn’t need the snark and the bullshit.

I walked away wanting to kill her.

I came back the next day with a new fire — to COLLABORATE against that snoozing, orange-cracker-drooling asshole and that cunt who ran H.R. (I really did hate that bitch.)

And while there was always competition between us (as I had to introduce her to my beloved wealthy volunteers. And I daresay they liked me better), my life was easier when I realized I should just learn from her … to let her be the asshole accountable for everything now.

I don’t think I ever stopped working hard. I just stopped fighting the system and channeled my energy into my work instead of doing double-time between work and assholitry.

I share all of this to say that I see a similar situation unfolding before my eyes. And now I’m the asshole inserted into the process and screwing up other people’s lives. 😉

And I refuse to believe that they DON’T have the same potential I did. Sure, I shitcanned Stripper Girl quite gleefully — I have my theories about her undoing, but suffice it to say that I tried everything and still didn’t get through.

But I feel like I owe it to Miss Piss to be that “new” supervisor with a plan and an honest conversation. By proxy, I owe it to the employee. But really, it’s a thankless job and I’m sure my efforts to get to this point (downright heroic, if you ask me, but I digress) will be mostly unknown and certainly unacknowledged.

So, Miss Piss, thanks for being my wake-up call. I hope to achieve a similar result.

And if it goes the way of Stripper Girl, I once again will have tried and can have a clear conscience. And if I do get a turnaround, then I can feel good that I did someone a favor by knocking them down a few pegs and reminding them that — just because they are the smartest person they themselves happen to know — it would do them some good to learn from those who can make their journey so much easier and productive.

Five days and four nights away from home = bliss.

Being home again = meh.

I left all my crap at Lady L’s. I meant to keep George at the office with me till lunchtime, then go clean really fast and then let him greet her.

But I was out walking him near the office circa lunchtime. I actually was near the Den of Iniquity with a steaming bag of dog poop, debating about what to do with said bag of poop plus some unresolved venom toward its majority owner and also the president of that joke of a lifetime. (Two different idiots, whom I differentiate by drug of choice.)

Anyway, I decided not to set it on fire and drop it off, since neither one actually shows up unless it’s to terrorize, belittle and otherwise offend the senses (in the olfactory sense) of the good employees. Besides, I like the restaurants downstairs and really don’t want the building to be (rightfully) condemned because of the physical AND mental health hazards upstairs.

So, I stopped to give a snowbird directions, and Lady L happened to pull up on the corner where we stood. George was so happy! I lifted him up to the window to see his momma, and he jumped for absolute joy. She picked up some sammiches and we ate in my office with our little furbag.

Today, I also had a guest in from Philly and another from Baltimore. Which meant there was Amarone and carbohydrates in it for me. And it was just a lovely day all around.

So being home sucks ass. Mostly because I just want to jump the fuck out of my skin and go to bed. But it’s good to be with my kitty again. I’ve missed her. I was going to let her keep the UEOEH company if she ever moved out. But that’s no fair to Kadie. She’s mine and I adore her. I just wish I still felt the same about her Grandma.

I do see a couple of pans of pasta in the fridge. Tiny pans — I didn’t give her THAT much money. But how fucked-up that she makes food and doesn’t eat a single bite of it. Freak.

Oh well. Gonna go play with my kitty. (Get yer mind outta the gutter.) I left my favorite vibrator in my suitcase, anyway, so Kadie’s the only cat in town tonight. Lucky her!

HAI!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I was babysitting my fur-nephew all weekend. And I was all set to go home last night when I found out his mom couldn’t get to Florida until today. So I bought a new dress and enjoyed having one more night with my beloved boy. Life’s good!

The UEOEH had e-mailed me Friday, to say she wanted to see Lady L’s apartment. She also wanted to visit George one last time before they leave us for Maryland. (Sigh — the 10 months they’ve been here has saved me; I’m only happy because she’s moving up in the world … AGAIN.) And that I will be along for the road trip back to our old world!

Anyway, I said I was planning to walk G around 7 p.m. if she wanted to come along.

And she showed up promptly at 7, as I was starting to fall asleep after another exhausting workweek.

So I took the troops for a walk; we ate dinner outdoors at a chi-chi place on the A1A, and George sat on a big-boy chair all by himself. I fed him the bacon off our bacon-wrapped scallops, and he was so happy after a long day at the office with me. 🙂

So, the UEOEH was “more grateful than (I) will ever know” for the night out. And for the food. Probably mostly for the food.

Anyway, now that she finally knows where Lady L lives, it only makes sense for her to want to push her way in and come back, yes?

So she e-mailed me yesterday to say she wanted to make a pan of pasta, and drop it off so Lady L would have some food to come home to. Which is lovely. That’s the mother I remember. Always thinking of others.

Starving herself and blaming it on me, however, is the mother I know now. But since she suddenly had money (that I gave her for food), she wanted to make food for Lady L.

Not for ME, mind you.

So I e-mailed back, hey, look — that’s thoughtful and all. But this is my last night of living alone until you move out. (I left out the “when hell freezes over, apparently” part.) So, please let me have it.

I thought that was pretty tactful of me, considering that I felt strongly that she was pushing her way in and, let’s face it, ruining my calm.

I went to a movie. (Saw “Hereafter.” And LOVED it.) I got a migraine from the high volume of the speakers. It was old folks’ day at the theater — every retirement community in the county, it seemed, dropped off a busload of blue-hairs.

Anyway, G and I took a nice walk and went to bed early. I got to my e-mail today … only to get a very snippy reply from the UEOEH that I “can HAVE IT!!!” in regard to my freedom.

And this is why we will never get along.

I wrote back to call up her one friend in Pittsburgh — the one whose daughter just moved to D.C. a year ago — and stay for the holidays. They have an extra bedroom. She’s clearly miserable living with me. 🙂

And damn, I was actually feeling kind of bad after Friday — after seeing how sad and broken down the woman is. How much she really needs therapy and health care and good, old-fashioned TLC.

But then the claws come out. And I figure, if she has enough fight in her to challenge the asshole paying the bills, well then she can make a fucking phone call to cancel her car insurance or to drive to the DMV and get her license so she can get healthcare locally.

Oh, George. Give me one reason why I should stay in Florida and not stay with you and your mom when we drive to Baltimore next month. …

Dawdling

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

The president isn’t the only one with idiots for advisers. That is all I’m going to say about that. (Fuckin’ Snooki!)

George and I are watching “Grey’s Anatomy.” I’m fairly certain my fur-nephew is one of my soulmates. He’s pretty much the love of my life, at this point.

Apparently the idiot maintenance dude flooded my apartment while putting in the new hot water tank. I always say that place is one safety violation from falling into the Intracoastal. Apparently parts fell out of the wall that we didn’t even know existed.

I got some weird news today. (No, not that my bouquet of bribery flowers arrived safely to my cousin. Which they did. I hope she wonders how she can ever thank me. By taking the UEOEH for the holidays would be a nice start!)

My sixth-grade history teacher died a few years ago. He was awesome. Loved that man. I had had his wife for a class somewhere else along the line. Didn’t love her as much. Can’t remember what she even taught, for that matter. Apparently she was found in her basement, dead, having hanged herself in her grief. How friggin’ sad.

I can’t imagine killing myself over losing the love of my life. Hell, one of my boys just told me today that clearly I hate foreplay — I must be a “wham-bam thank you ma’am” type. I couldn’t really argue. A girl gets bored while a boy tries to Google-Map her G-spot!

This is probably the last chance I will have to babysit George. So I’m trying not to be sad. We’re curled up on the floor while Aunt Goddess drinks her hard cider and avoids work.

Change is afoot here in so-called paradise; George is moving back to Maryland soon. And it pisses me off that my beloved fur-friend is going away, yet my Ultra Extra Over Extended Houseguest is like a burr nestled up my ass for the foreseeable (and even the unforeseeable) future. NOT FAIR. Waaah.

If the rope or the ceiling beam wouldn’t break under the weight of my pudgy pork-roast ass, I’d hang my damn self too! Not because I’m lonely, but because I haven’t gotten the chance to be!

Have you ever broken a fingernail, and it’s so deep into the “meat” of the nail that you can’t cut it off? Sure, you can trim around it, but there’s always that piece that hangs precariously — ready to catch onto a loose piece of clothing and snag the delicate fabric — until you finally say “the hell with it” and cut it and try not to whimper in pain?

Yeah, it’s been like that here for a little while now.

I’m happy to say I have custody of my fur-nephew starting today and through the weekend. That’s nice.

I’m happy to say that after three Halloween parties, I wake up on All Saint’s Day and fly to Mexico. You know, where they’re beheading Americans at the border. Whee! Although I highly doubt that the exclusive four-star hotel on the peninsula has any rogue gang-bangers who are out to get the gringos.

My hot water tank exploded last night. I have to admit, the UEOEH cleaned up the mess while I was having my usual Wednesday night date with Lady L at our favorite restaurant. (These dates save our sanity. As does the grilled brie in honey butter.)

There’s no hot water right now, so staying at George’s house couldn’t have come a moment too soon. And it’s pretty damn ironic that I am going to the Porn Palace for a hot shower, with its 24-gallon hot water tank that gives you a warm shower for three minutes on a good day!

I’m kind of “feh” right now about everything. I’m also struggling as a McManager. All the experts say to spend the most time and effort on your stars. And yet, it always seems to end up the other way around — the stars are off on their own because your hands are too full with everything/everyone else.

And then former stars (like myself) are just plain unmotivated to do the mounting challenges in front of them. I have a mile-long to-do list, but when you’re told not to focus on details and then a detail (or 10) gets fucked up, it’s kind of frustrating.

A friend just got her dream job. And I am SO HAPPY for her. I’m thrilled to know that those exist. And it makes me vacillate between “I can do this for the rest of my life” and “How much longer till it’s been a year?” And what is my dream job?

I’d be perfectly happy to write my novels on the side again, without the UEOEH hovering all the time. (And Lady L can confirm, the woman HOVERS.) I feel like other than my escapes (whether to our favorite restaurant or our favorite cities) with Lady L, plus the occasional fur-nephew-sitting when she’s out of town, there’s nothing I do that stokes the creative fires.

Oh well. At least I don’t have 10 kids, a mortgage (or a foreclosure) and a deadbeat husband. There is something to be said for, if not having the stimulation I seek, then not having a level of aggravation I didn’t bargain for, beyond what’s already there.

I am now actively trying to find a way to offload the UEOEH. (E-I-E-I-O?). When I thought I could bribe my cousin into taking her for a while (or forever), my heart lifted. I could feel it. There was noticeably the absence of a rock from the pit of my stomach.

Of course, the cousin refused and I sent her the biggest bouquet of autumn flowers known to man yesterday. 🙂 Just in case she realized that I am a wonderful person who needs a break already.

I am now thinking of one of the UEOEH’s friends in Pittsburgh. Her daughter works in D.C. now. I know they have a bedroom or two to spare. I wonder if I shouldn’t have sent HER the obnoxious floral display instead. …

Right now I’m struggling with whether I’m taking the natural next step in my career, or simply becoming something I’m not. I feel like I’m leaving 85% of what makes me, well, me at the door while heeding the suggestion, “You should learn from the OTHER publisher.” Who is half my age and has been with the firm for half a decade and doesn’t have my experience in other things.

But anyway, I realize now why, when I was a grantwriter, it was so important to ask for money for respite services for caregivers. (I worked for a foster care agency, where we mainly serviced aunts and grandmothers who inherited kids while their mothers were in jail or otherwise deemed unfit to rear their kids.) That night off … or weekend or week … is more precious than any Apple product ever manufactured. (Yes, I said it!)

If I could offload the UEOEH for the holidays … wow. How happy I would be. And if it could turn permanent, well, all the better!

I finally have something to pray for, other than, “God, get me out of this mess.”

Once that’s solved, I can perhaps start in on cleaning up my OWN life. What an original idea.

Lady L have already made plans for dinner tonight AND tomorrow night. The week is THAT challenging already.

Apparently I just did something to screw up a product launch. It was unintentional, of course. And of all the layers of upper-management (of which I am somehow one) approval I procured, I didn’t involve the one person who would have thrown the brakes on my approach.

Damn it to hell.

The good news is that I get to cancel my dreaded 3 p.m. meeting. There’s hope yet for this day.

I just had a random memory, of someone I dated back when I lived on my own. (Aaaah, those were the days.) I remember being as feisty and independent as I am now. And I remember this man saying to me that his greatest fantasy was to give me a bath.

I of course was skeeved the hell out and, needless to say, we ended shortly afterward. 🙂

He had said it was one of the most-vulnerable states in the world. And for someone so adamant about having a force-field around her, he would consider that a true victory in breaking down the fortress and 20-foot moat I have around me at all times.

I don’t know why that memory came to me today. Probably because I feel like Rapunzel being stuck in the castle the day after she gets her hair cropped for the summer. The moment where I want to stop fighting and say, OK, I’m vulnerable.

And whoever’s around, just don’t hurt me. Because I don’t have it in me to fight back anymore.

So tired. …