Caterwauling

Penis Pancake

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, I went to see “Something Borrowed” yesterday. Save your money.

Spoiler alert:

As I prepare to turn 36 for the second time (next week! Gaaaahhh), Mother Nature’s gift to me is a hefty dose of “Get offa my lawn,” apparently.

Look, I loved the movie. But I feel dirty and icky just for SAYING that.

It hit close to home, as all the best movies do.

It’s all about two BFFs; one shines and the other busts her butt to get where she is. I was never the prettier of any two sets of friends. Or, if I was, I was always the fatter. And that, by default, makes you the less-attractive one. Even if you don’t believe it yourself (because, let’s face it, you know you have “such a pretty face”), that’s how society treats you.

Confidential to society: “Fuck. You.”

The storyline is simple: Girl wants boy. Boy wants girl. Radiant friend appears. Girl feels like nothing in her presence. Boy goes after radiant friend. Years of pining ensue. Girl becomes radiant friend’s maid of honor at wedding to boy. Hilarity ensues.

I mean, how romantic for old college friends with crushes on each other to still be hot for each other. Lord knows a few of the guys from my college days are still in my life. It would be a cute story if it worked out. But a cute story is unnecessary when building a future.

And so, the part that makes me mad is nothing shy of my own hypocrisy.

The girls should have maintained their friendship and gotten rid of the boy. The end.

But a quick index of my own life shows that I pretty much tossed all female friendships to the wind and dated slept with whomever I damn well pleased.

I miss my friends, by the way.

I always subscribed to the theory that if those lovely couples didn’t work out, the men were fair game. Because when your friends are in relationships, you are right in it with them.

Whether you’re hearing one side talk about the other (and for me, I was always close with both sides), or whether they’re including you as “not a third wheel at ALL,” you are the unnamed entity in a supposed two-person union.

This is why girls drop their friends when they date someone — it’s so much easier to focus on one person without having other people there to witness every move and/or misstep.

So, yeah, I realize I’m an idiot that I wanted the movie to end any way other than the way it did. Everyone ended up happy, which pisses me off in general, because that NEVER happens. 🙂 But all the cheating, lying whores ended up with the person they wanted. And poor little Ethan moved to London and ended up alone.

Ethan = John Krasinski. I would have totally gone for him, by the bye. 😉

Anyhoodle, I was looking for a love story, and I guess I got one. I would just hate to be the girl who got the guy by stealing him nearly off the altar from my BFF. That “cute story” turns pretty foul pretty quickly when you toss in THAT little fact nugget.

I guess I get mad because I want so badly to write books and love stories with the characters who have lived in my head for decades. And I’d really like to write my OWN fairy tale one of these days, only for real. I know there’s no perfect story — it’s always messy and crazy and sometimes painful — but I need the hope that the concept of “meant to be” supersedes all.

But I don’t think you should have to lose anything/anyone in the process … especially those who would be there if your shining knight falls off the horse and your fairy tale ends up as more of a short story than a book.

Peeps at the beach

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

The pier at the local public beach is about to be torn down to install a casino. Which it used to be, back in the day. And, which, yay, all we need are more tourons polluting my quiet little streets. Woo hoo.

Anyway, this is part of a larger diorama created by one of the residents to commemorate the pier. It makes me love my little area that much more.

I’ve been quarantined with some strain of infectiousness, the likes of which I haven’t endured since last November. Which has been joyous, I say.

I have this one job that I’ve worked at for nearly six weeks now (and no payment in sight), and they’ve had their hair on fire a few times this week — all during “off” hours. My inbox blew up Thursday night and again yesterday (Saturday).

I want to be available and cheerful here, as payment will come soon, and in spades, eventually, for the patient and capable. But it feels rather unfair to be held to deadlines — that I literally sleep through — for NON-URGENT stuff.

So I be workin’ today. It’s not rocket science. I always have fun with it. But I hate feeling like an ass because I knocked myself out cold with some Nyquil and didn’t check my e-mail between 9 p.m. and 8 a.m. and missed the boat entirely.

I’m just a little stressed over money and the future of the one project that does pay. I think all is on track, but you never really know. And with the houseguest having located my last possible nerve (I didn’t know I had any left — who knew?), I’m really wondering what I’m doing here.

I got contacted from a freelance job I lasted about a month with. I never even billed for the work I did, as it paid less than the effort to create an invoice. I quit partially because my point of contact was driving me crazy. (A theme in my life, eh?) And they resurfaced to ask me back. Hmm.

Everyone agrees I was clear as crystal about what I was good at and what was outside my comfort zone. And yet my assignments were located squarely OUTSIDE MY COMFORT ZONE.

Is it time to go for another full-time job? One of the “biggies” down here heard of me through a high-powered friend and asked me to interview just for giggles. We haven’t yet scheduled said interview, but I wonder whether I should more-aggressively pursue it. I’m certainly spending more than I’m bringing in. And my work ethic has been wavering for a variety of reasons.

Anyway, it occurred to me the other day as I was “driving Miss Daisy” somewhere, when I called up God and had a few terse statements I needed to make, that perhaps I befriended God a few years back simply to have someone with whom to argue.

I don’t blame Him, but I would love some answers and maybe even some direction, if He’s feeling charitable. The only answers I keep getting back are to be grateful and happy. And I am. I just want to be ecstatic. And rich.

Seriously, I know money doesn’t solve everything, but let ME be the judge of that, OK? Besides, I know I’d give most of that wealth away, anyway. Let me get my MacBook Pro and a newer car, and let me pay rent for a year, and then I can figure out how to un-hinge the houseguest from my hip. And the rest will go to worthy causes around the country.

God, I just want to be the legend I know I can be. Even if not a soul knows my real name. I’m bypassing Santa Claus on this one and coming straight to You. How about a trial period to see how I can do? 🙂

I’ll be quick, as I’m behind as usual. I swear, I took on 30 hours of work between two jobs and yet I am NEVER CAUGHT UP. Why is that? I am at my ‘puter from 9 to 6 (at least) every day. And I’m not burning any calories, with no commute unless it’s to the refrigerator that’s 100 feet away. So much for the flexible life to do what I want/need. Le sigh.

Loved the article at the WSJ today about how everyone’s wearing 40 different hats at their jobs in order to keep them. This struck me because it has been my downfall at my last three jobs — I was always the “nice” person who could juggle in the extra work “till we hire someone.”

But then, when those urgent, day-to-day duties start to take away from the “big thinking” that needs to be done, you’re the asshole who’s too wrapped up in the details to ever prove your mettle by showing that you should have been left exclusively to the idea generation all along.

Especially in my field, everyone is using the same tired five ideas. Actually, it’s probably really only three ideas. If I’m being generous. And they all SUCK just as much now as they did the first hundred times we saw them.

See, I work in an “ideas” business, but everyone’s lying to themselves if they actually believe it. (Not accosting any current employers. Just stating the obvious for those who read this page and want to see themselves in it.) The “ideas” can only come from certain staff members (above a certain pay grade) and if you’ve already got a “golden child” on staff, you might as well save your breath and head off to Costco to buy toilet paper and coffee for the office.

They will GLADLY show you praise for the dumb shit and tear you a new one over an idea that no one else has tried — who wants to do the legwork of the unproven idea when someone else made money with the stupid thing that somehow miraculously worked?

Anyway. Go. Read. Now. “Superjobs”: Why You Work More, Enjoy it Less

After being responsible for two dogs for five loooonnnnnng days, I’ve decided to keep Kadie as an only child. God. The poop. The pee. The barking. The fighting. The roll of toilet paper shredded into confetti while I hid in Starbucks to escape the zoo. The running into traffic. The wrapping of leashes around me like I was a fat maypole. The feeling of wanting their mommy to come home more than THEY did. Oy.

So, speaking of mommies, I got some new information this weekend from mine on the “man” known as my biological father/sperm donor/absent individual.

Apparently, when she found her underage ass knocked up, he actually said they should get together and make it work. And it was my matriarchal grandmother who basically told him to hit the bricks — SHE did not want him to be in the picture.

So, he fled. Took his ticket to freedom and ran for the fucking hills.

I hear that he and his family snuck into the hospital when I was born, just to see me. And they left without incident, and certainly without contact.

Now, I didn’t see him again till I was 18, save for a little trip to Roundhill Farms when I was 3 and he was there with his pregnant bride. Rumor has it that I unknowingly ran up beside him and leaned on his leg to look at some animals. Awkward!

And that meeting at 18 was a failure pile in a sadness bowl. So, I always just assumed he was an irresponsible piece of shit. Which became my view of most men. Squirting out some semen and fertilizing an egg doesn’t mean anything. As usual, the woman has to do all the work. 🙂 And just because you have a child alive out there doesn’t make you a daddy.

But I have to admit, the new information threw me. I’m not surprised — my grandmother was very “my way or the highway.” We battled for the bulk of my life, so believe me, I know what it’s like to go to war with her. I can see why he pussed out.

That’s why I’m kind of annoyed though. That he pussed out. That he cared enough to see what I looked like when I was born. But that he gave up. I figured he left because he could. I get that. Everybody leaves, right?

That scarred me for life, by the way. I don’t want kids, if their dad would be a disappointment. I haven’t even been sure I wanted a man around, because I remain unconvinced that any of them would act any better than him.

How different would my life have been, though, had he stayed? Difficult grandmother or not, I would have had PARENTS. Not some alcoholic stepfather. Not 100% obligation in taking care of my mother today, without a single source of additional support in sight.

Thanks, Gram. *headdesk*

Sure, statistics are against them that they would have ended up together. I could have turned out a lot worse — a statistic myself. But I know I would have grown up in a different (better) school district. I would have had another set of grandparents and even a couple of aunts. Hell, I would have had cousins. I don’t have ANY of that now.

I might have even had siblings, instead of the two half-ones I’ve never met and never will.

But I might not have turned out exactly like my grandmother, a total hardass when it came to anyone outside the family but someone who would give the shirt off her back to anyone she loved.

So, there may be no changing the past. But it’s a case study in maintaining one’s emotions, to look at it with a whole new perspective. And I wonder whether this is a breakthrough that will help me learn to trust the next guy who comes around and actually feel like I can have expectations of him … that he can meet and *gasp* even exceed.

The very first friend I made down here in South Florida is leaving for the great white north — er, Pennsylvania — to start a new life. (Who the hell moves *to* Philly? From Miami? Holy culture shock.)

My friend has really transformed over the past two years, and she was pretty fabulous to start with. This is someone who can find something nice to say about absolutely everyone, even the biggest assholes around. (Lord knows we know a few down here…) And to know that her happiness is literally just days away, it shows me that the good guys really do win. I couldn’t be more thrilled.

Her man has really stepped up. He was just another slacker doing just enough to get by, but not nearly enough to impress. Then she left him, found someone better, and dumped that guy too. But she really concentrated on being true to herself and being the best version of herself. And her guy stepped up his game BIG TIME and became worthy of this wonderful woman.

*applauds him* Nice work, my friend. I didn’t think you had it in you. But I’m so glad you did.

They want to get married down here so that her friends can attend. I will be clapping among the loudest and probably crying among the hardest. But in a totally good way. 😉

It’s interesting to watch all this happiness. I never really believed in it. But she’s got the man, the new house, the life plan, the rock that’s coming next week, and the drive to keep bettering herself along the way. I pray that everything turns out even better for her than it already is.

Of course, I am reminded that *I* was the asshole on top of the world just two years ago. And I can’t figure out why I keep getting knocked back a few pegs just for the universe’s fun. I know it will make me better and stronger and all that. But I have hope now that things will all come together. Someday.

I am also reminded that, for all my bitching and moaning about the first job I took in SoFla, it was really good for a while. The team was incredible, the atmosphere was serious when needed and jovial when the work was done and we were resting up for the next project, and we made some pretty strong friendships along the way. And even if we fall out of touch for months at a time, we are always, always there to celebrate and commiserate and just be there for each other.

So, this mother’s day, I wish for joy and happiness and neverending amounts of love for the women in my life. That is, for the ones who aren’t power-hungry or batshit crazy or otherwise conniving and bitchy and intent on ruining things for the next generation of women who are counting on them to break through that cracked glass ceiling.

Thank you for all the love, nurturing, encouragement and faith you’ve shared with me when I needed it most, and even when I thought I didn’t.

When I first met my friend, I was very anti-hugging. I didn’t see the point. She’s very comforting and huggy and all that, and it drove me nuts. And I told her about it. 🙂

But when I saw her recently, it was all big hugs and smiles. And it wasn’t lost on her — she got one more hug from me just because she could. 😉

I’ve come a long way, baby. I’ve still got a few thousand miles to go, but I’ve chilled out and softened up in a huge way. Hopefully being more receptive to affection means that happiness might actually stop and visit for an extended stay instead of running the fuck away from my cold, cranky ass!

ZsaZsa

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

We all know I’ve been planning to get a dog for my birthday. So, just I agreed to provide emergency dog-sitting services for five days.

We’re a little over 48 hours in and I am kind of over dogs. *hugging my cat quickly before she claws me*

I’ve got two poodles here. The boy is a joy. And then there’s little sister here, who is a shade past batshit. They’re super-cute and loving. But man, I’m tired.

I kept them here the first night, which was stupid. Kadie never left the houseguest’s closet, and these two slept with me. I awakened to the boy barfing all over me and my bed. I went into my bathroom to find they had used my rugs as pee pads. And the kitchen had shit smeared from one end to the other. The houseguests’ rugs are in tatters.

This little one pictured has a nasty cough. And I didn’t know this going into it. And after a couple of hours at the zoo, Kadie started rasping and horking. Yeah, bad news. I’ve had to sleep at the puppies’ house with them and visit them a few times a day.

Monday can’t come soon enough. 😉

The crazy part of all this? My friend said that the boy is hers to keep but the girl is available for adoption. I’m not sure why she has her, but I don’t ask questions. Anyway, since people tend to admire dogs on the Avenue, she said to get the number of anyone interested.

Drumroll…

So, the houseguest and I were out walking the four-pawed wonders on Thursday. And for some bizarre reason, I had a feeling that I wanted to walk right up to the Intracoastal Waterway. The sunset was amazing and the orange-pink colors were reflecting off the bridge so spectacularly that I kind of went, “Oooh, shiny” and started walking.

At the end of the land, under the bridge, sat two sisters who were mesmerized by little ZsaZsa here. Unbeknownst to me at the time, they were plotting to persuade me to let them play with — or, you know, adopt — the black dog.

Is that fate or what?

Apparently they had grown up with tiny black poodles like this one. And the older sister had three or four black poodles in succession — all named Pixie.

And she wants this dog. 🙂

We talked for hours. I had a lot in common with the older sister, and my mom had a lot in common with the younger sister. (The latter two are the same age.) And the elder sister has connections in my field and said she’d be happy to pull a few strings if I’m interested in making her connections mine.

Um, hell YEAH!

Anyway, this is what my old pastors used to call “God Moments.” How we all ended up in the one smoking section on the whole island … with those two staying at one of the hotels because they were meeting in the middle from the north and south to have a little visit … right on MY island and two blocks from my palace … is nothing short of a mystery. And the miracle is how our needs (job) and wants (dog) intersected.

I hope my friend was serious about adopting out the dog. Because frankly, I really want to hang out with my new friend again. 🙂 She did call me to see if I wanted to have brunch with them but I had to try to get some work done. But we have tentative plans for Tuesday before she drives home. I hope I can hand over the dog with her current mom’s blessing. 🙂

And even if it doesn’t work out that way, I think I’ve still made a great connection. She asked me if I know God, and I said indeed I do, and that’s all we said and all she needed to hear.

Perhaps I can finally answer one of my ex-pastor’s many e-mails, asking whether I’ve made “God friends” yet, in the affirmative.

In the meantime, splitting my time between two apartments is exhausting. It’s like having two families and not telling one about the others. I’ve never cheated on anyone in my life (I’ve always been upfront that this relationship wasn’t lasting the night, let alone forever), and after this, I will be HAPPY with just one. Yeesh.

In any case, to have something weird and wonderful coming out of strange and stressful? Hell yeah…

My social media statuses are set to: “My bologna has a first name, a middle name, a last name, and an address I’d like to bomb.”

The Wicked Witch canned my designer and told me to stop working with everyone else and to just keep playing nice on my own, by myself.

For further insult, she said she’s pleased to offer me a chance to stay on at my current rate.

She can kiss my ever-growing pudgy pork roast ass, die in a fire and lick me where I pee.

And she can read this timely article on why everyone has the right to competent management.

Pineapple chicken at #Sunfest

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I just felt like posting a picture of a pineapple filled with chicken, after Jon Stewart reminded us that bin Laden now lives in a pineapple under the sea. Seems appropriate.

It’s my one-month anniversary, if you can call it that, with one of my jobs. I assume I need to send an invoice, although I am going to bill for about half the work I did, per the original agreement. But shit’s gotta change and I need to write that letter too.

My five hours a week (hah) consists of e-mail back-and-forths, with far more “Back” than “Forth.” And the CEO is very sneaky. She will put me down to my face for everything I suggest, yet run to the owner and tell him all “her” great ideas that came from MY mouth.

So even though I get a billion e-mails from her in a day, I get about a million calls. And I keep trying to keep it in the e-mail, you know? So I have documentation AND so I can cc’ the owner so that he can see how friggin’ incoherent she is.

I remember forwarding an e-mail from an old job to my personal network, and everyone laughed that a publisher would use a line like, “That is SO not okay!” Well, now we’re all snickering over the fact that this idiot rages and then punctuates it with, “No biggie.”

As usual, I have to be the better person. And I see that she works 24/7. But dude, five hours a week here, yo. I brought it up to her that I understand she’s frustrated that the very tiny team is missing deadlines THAT SHE NEVER COMMUNICATED. But we all work less than part-time, and we are all on different schedules.

BUT … we also put in a lot of extra time so we can accommodate each other’s schedules. That means me answering their emails at midnight or at the crack o’ me before they all wake up. That means them having to drop everything because I need something at their 8 a.m. You can bitch all you want that I haven’t touched your imaginary to-do list, but for five hours’ pay and as the only one with publishing experience, you’re lucky I’m still here.

I have mostly always hated my bosses in my life, but there’s just an extra special something awful about this one that will make me crazy if I let her.

Speaking of, there was a good article on BNET.com about whether it’s necessary to have a good personality to be an effective leader.

And as I’ve said about my last couple of supervisors, to quote Jim Belushi, “If she didn’t have a pussy, there’d be a bounty on her head.”

Maybe being an evil cunt whore bitch is the only way to win, you know? I’m not even trying to spare anyone’s feelings but my own these days. I know they’re not happy people, but everyone’s too afraid of them to fire them. Maybe I need to cut back on my peace of mind and start terrorizing people?

That’s what I need! A “terror premium” in my freelance contracts! For when these bitches go on the rag. Yes, that’s my new clause. Dare me NOT to add it!

Anyway, the article posed this question at the end:

“But would you be better off working with someone who’s extremely pleasant but might have ulterior motives, or with someone who’s obnoxious but has a good heart?”

It’s a weird question, given that EVERYONE seems to have ulterior motives … and is also obnoxious. 🙂

But I can work with a good heart. It’s when I peer into their soulless depths and hear the echo chamber of them taking other’s ideas and reciting them as their own that burns my butt.

I’ve already worked with the seemingly nice with the deadly agenda. No thank you. I hear rumors about people I used to call friends, who’ve gotten sucked into the corporate lifestyle and who are pissing on the little people they themselves once were just a couple years ago. They ain’t no friends of mine now.

I dunno. My stomach just cramps up when my phone rings (and rings) from the West Coast. (She hangs up and calls back five times till I either pick up or throw the phone in the ocean.)

What bugs me the most is that I can clearly demonstrate a success record in my area of expertise, and she has the audacity to say that, well, she has opinions too and they need to count. And that’s FINE. But when I can cite case studies of why that idiotic phrase you want me to use actually increases unsubscribes, for fuck’s sake why the tantrum when I suggest that if my documents are too wordy (her words), why don’t we try it without adding that phrase that will make people think we’re idiots?

Speaking of idiots, she is the poster child for abortion. Please don’t outlaw it — think of all the assholes the world DOESN’T contain because of it!

Untitled

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I <3 my new bling. Almost as much as the “festival diet” that included a half-dozen muffalettas and almost as many beignets, lamb-and-feta sliders and various Captain Morgan cocktails!

(Anyone wanna join me on the post-festival “sex diet” to burn off all that good food? I’d hate to do this one alone. …)

Volunteering was QUITE the experience. I had fun. Of course, our bright-orange shirts made us all look like dreamsicles, but I stuffed that bitch in my bag and got a tan before and after my shifts.

Ah, the shifts. I spent two days in one VIP area. It was fun but tiring. The leader of the area (male) was never around, and all the kids on my shifts basically just came to look toward me to fix everything that went wrong. And I did. 🙂 Well, with as much power as any idiot in an orange shirt can wield. But I met some AWESOME people and we’ve already connected by text and Facebook. So, I win.

Yesterday, I was in another, albeit less-exclusive, VIP area. But I got to sit in the shade instead of standing in the rain, so that was awesome. And I had female supervisors this time around. Which was … different.

The men on my previous days basically had me acting as the accountant, the bouncer and the maid. Given that the median age of the volunteer shift was 15, I understand why. But they left me the hell alone and I loved it.

The women, well, one was awesome. But the one over all of us, including her, was one mean whore. She reminded me of somebody. …

So anyway, this kid Mike joined us for his shift at the table. He was very sweet and smart. I liked him immediately.

The job was easy enough — giving out goofy necklaces (not the one pictured — I bought mine and it was cuter, IMHO) and checking packages in from people who spent ridiculous amounts of money on artwork and who didn’t want to carry it around. Easy-peasy.

The witch sent Mike away to do another job. And she told us that she didn’t trust him — she didn’t want him with all that merchandise.

The gal I became friends with said to me later, “Yeah, I guess that’s because he’s young.”

And I said, “No, it’s because his skin is four shades darker than ours.”

I caught a lot of other comments from this “leader.” Nothing directly harmful, but just enough to make you wonder.

There was another younger girl on our shift who came in to replace him. Very talkative but I didn’t mind. She told me her mom had just overcome breast cancer and meanwhile, her brother came out of the closet and another one is in rehab. Poor momma!

The girl said she was a slacker her whole life, but recently raised her grades by three letters. And she’s joined the Science Club, volunteers at events and works with a group that makes/sells bracelets for breast cancer awareness.

I am so jealous of these kids. My own volunteer experiences at their age was a joke. I never did anything that meant anything, you know? I volunteered at the local hospital and basically got stuck wheeling people around and lining them up in hallways. Very depressing and, frankly, unnecessary.

I did events, too. Anyone remember the Rib Cook-off in South Park? Holla! 🙂

Anyway, it figures that my only fun jobs are the unpaid ones. Woo. Friggin. Hoo.

But it just reinforces that I need to be in leadership because you can trust me to not screw shit up and to fix what IS broken, and because I LOVE getting to know new people and training them and discovering what makes them tick so that I can play to their strengths.

Anyway, the free time I spent there was even better. Styx, Jeff Beck, Memphis Soul Revue, OAR, Earth Wind and Fire, Cherry Poppin Daddies … I heard a lot of great live music. And this is the first year I haven’t gotten a sunburn at the festival — I’m just a normal bronzed goddess. Ah, Florida. I hated you when I got here, but I couldn’t imagine thriving anywhere else….

Sparklies

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I just realized that I get paid four times less for a hard job in comparison to the other (easier, better, and more pleasant) job where I get paid four times more! What gives?

It’s Wicked Witch of the West Coast time. Whee! She was threatening to fire me today. She may still. I dunno. Once again, I am smarter/more experienced/more-capable and -competent and, yet, I’m the one making the little bucks but getting the big headaches.

I was just thinking about adding another job to the failure pile when I read an e-mail that didn’t send me into convulsions. (Unlike all the others.) It’s from the Daily OM, and today’s message is fittingly called “The Upside of Irritation.” To wit:

“The more we try to eliminate annoyances, instead of learning to handle them gracefully, the further we get from developing the qualities that come with spiritual growth, such as patience, tolerance, and acceptance. It is often in the presence of people and experiences we find annoying that we have an opportunity to develop these qualities. Fortunately for most of us, our lives offer an abundance of opportunities to practice and cultivate these traits.”

The thing this person can’t figure out is the rest of us are signed up to work five hours a week (others are 10 or 20; I took on five). And yet, I am putting in 20 hours a week.

And it’s not even the pay that’s bothering me right now. It’s the fact that since she’s immersed in this 24/7 … and the rest of us put in different shifts to meet their needs as well as have REAL jobs on the side … she is yelling at us for not getting shit done. Which, we ARE. A surprising amount given that it’s mostly volunteer work and the fact that we all pull extra hours to coincide our schedules with each others’.

I don’t want to lose this gig. It’s not that it’s wonderful but it’s something that can be something special, someday. But I talked to my whole team today (hey, who knew I had a team — don’t I get more for leadership?), and she’s making everyone want to cut their wrists with a machete.

Once again I am thrust in the role of giving people comic relief and understanding where there may be little or none. Pity. Clearly this pattern needs to end.

I met some wonderful people while I was volunteering. Exchanged a few sets of business cards. I know a nice Cajun restaurant up in Jax that needs to broaden its South Florida audience. Now if my ass is gonna be on fire every damn day, it should be from eating spicy foods and not having some crazy person kicking it!