This "apology hotline" is entertaining. Apparently, people call this number at Vassar late at night to admit to some scumbag shit they might have done or are doing.
One can only hope the callers are way more articulate (and, for my money, honest) than the tard droppings over at the trainwreck otherwise known as Group Hug.
I can't help but wonder, though if anyone who ever did me wrong would ever A.) admit to it, or B.) be nuts enough to post it somewhere. Wouldn't that be awesome if you found that someone, somewhere wanted your forgiveness for some boneheaded thing they did to you?
1. Memorial Day marks the unofficial start of summer, grilling, and a steady parade of frat boys jamming the Bay Bridge to get to Dewey Beach because, you know, sometimes there just aren't enough shitty cover bands playing at Whitlows and the Clarendon Grille. But the writers of the Friday Five (who really need some new pictures) know that Memorial Day is really supposed to be a day of remembrance, or so this says. Have you ever participated in a bona fide commemoration activity on Memorial Day? If so, what was it? Let's see, when I was a kid, we were forced to learn patriotic songs on our recorders (cheap, dollar store-type plastic flutes) and march up and down Lincoln Way in good old White Oak, Pa., with the rest of our classmates. I always envied the kids who conveniently "forgot" to tell their parents about said obligation, and they always waved oh-so-cattily to us as they sat on the ground, watching the parade and catching the Jolly Ranchers that adults were throwing at them from the parade route. Of course, I always mentally cheered when the Jolly candies would magically bean one of the little fuckers in the head. Served them right for not being humiliated with the rest of us, who tromped down to the American Legion for crappy chipped ham sandwiches on egg buns in reward for sweating our asses off as we played out of tune for the masses. :)
2. Just this week the Bush Administration announced a near-definite terrorist attack on U.S. soil, between now and, oh, coincidentally, election day, just after polls showed his lowest approval rating ever. Concern surrounding Memorial Day activities is abuzz. What do you think? Are people just being pansies, or is there real cause for concern? Would you, or do you, plan to attend any of these activities? I thought the announcement was a little bit convenient, given the plummeting approval rating. Here's the thing: we are always vulnerable to a terrorist attack. Sure, holiday gatherings are especially plum targets for the turban mafia, but if Sept. 11, 2001, taught us anything, it's that any random Tuesday in any random overpopulated locale is a prime target. Memorial Day is the American equivalent of a Holy Day in other parts of the world, so I don't expect any attacks this weekend.
That said, my ass is avoiding any form of public gatherings this weekend. But that's more of a hatred of my fellow man than it is an attempt to cover this wide load of an ass from a SCUD missile.
3. What's your favorite war-themed movie? War hero? War song? Oooh, "Low Rider." Yeah, baby!
Movie? Enh, not a big fan of the war movie genre. I might swing a halfhearted vote for "Independence Day," in honor of the ever-glorious Will Smith.
4. In the last installment of the Friday Five, we discussed swimming -- or not swimming -- in public pools. What are your thoughts on swimming at the beach, given that it could realistically be described as the world's largest ashtray, connected to the world's largest urinal? Ah, the beach. I remember when syringes were found in the sand at Lake Erie when I was a wee lass who loved said lake. This, of course, sucked because I didn't know how to swim (still don't) and therefore, the fun of sitting/walking on the sand decreased exponentially. In any event, feel free to pee in the ocean. Who's gonna stop you? Amid all the fish poop, I'm sure no one will notice!
5. Fashionistas everywhere (or at least at H&M) know that Memorial Weekend lifts a major clothing ban - we can all start wearing white, until Labor Day, when the ban resumes. What specific clothing style would you like to see banned year-round? Scott and I have a variety of clothing pet peeves (surely, ones which we would never commit ourselves!), most of which have been observed at the Dupont Circle-area bars, most notably (and recently) Cobalt. To protect the innocent, I shall not reveal THAT conversation, but suffice it to say that the 1980s happened, well, 20 years ago, and some folks missed the memo (and "The Love Boat," for that matter). All in all, keep it in your pants, keep your pants on and for god's sakes, if you are a gay man with no fashion sense, get some friends -- who will be MORE than happy to do a makeover on you ... without you even asking. ;)
2. It's a furlough day at work, and the very first in which I am NOT there for it. Hurrah!
3. Having a car in desperate need of repair has kept me in the house (or, local, as far as getting to work and out for groceries). I've been watching bad daytime TV, cooking and hanging with the kittens. And I am loving every second of it!
4. A special thank-you to everyone for the wonderful birthday wishes and/or gifts. You've made my passage into my 30th year (there! I said it!) incredibly memorable and special. I anticipated this would be a lonely voyage, but several of you went out of your way and then some to celebrate with me. You know who you are, even if you'll never read this tribute. :)
5. Shan gave me the best advice on turning the big 3-0: "Admitting you're 30 isn't easy -- it takes courage, confidence, a positive attitude ... and at least five or six years." (She should know -- she's 36!)
6. While we're on memorable quotes, Angie would be upset if I didn't record yesterday's quote of the day: "I could stick a pen in my twat and gyrate over a notebook, and I'd still write something better than most of my columnists!" (I said this with all seriousness -- I wasn't trying to be funny at all, but she was in hysterics. So here it is.)
7. The universe is working as it should be. Really, turning 30 is the best thing that's happened to me in a long time -- it put my world into an entirely new perspective. This is the decade of no more excuses, procrastination or wishing. This is the time to make it happen. I feel like I have always done "the right thing," but my motivation sometimes came from a sense of guilt or false indebtedness. No more. My motivation will always come from serving my best interests first. This is the year I start my business(es) -- the year I preserve, protect and promote myself like I never have. Expect big things from me, friends. And I will expect the same of you when you are ready. :)
8. I'd be remiss if I didn't wish you a wonderful, healthy and safe Memorial Day weekend. I personally will be avoiding D.C. like the plague, but I do have trips to the WWII Memorial and Arlington Cemetery scheduled for June. I appeciate that I live in the heart of the nation, and I don't want to see all the sights I've been missing when lost among a throng of cars and pedestrians. But I still want to see everything. So I'm going to make a concerted effort to do just that. I want to experience it all, and there's no reason why I can't. Carpe diem, friends. :)
OK, it's bad enough that four furlough days could've paid for the brakes and tires that I desperately need (more furloughs coming June 11 and 25), but after one day away, it's like I walked right back into the trap of idiocy.
As soon as I walked in, I was accosted by Cruise Director's Bitch about some stuff, and somebody else for some other stuff. I had even been contacted on my freakin' birthday (my lone day off in months!) about this shit, and I hadn't even had coffee yet when I saw their shining faces. Ugh.
But then, I was treated to assholes to whom I haven't responded going above my head to Cruise Director and to Demure!TM, asking why they hadn't heard from me. Um, the paper went to press, and there were problems goddamn galore all fucking weekend with the files. I did not see fit to answer whiny-ass people who were harassing me about non-related items. And why do I have to explain myself?
J-Ho, the ex-staff writer, got my ass in trouble today. She has been calling/e-mailing because Cruise Director wants her to write a story for me, and I don't want it. I don't even understand how it relates to my magazine (well, I could understand, but it sounds eerily similar to an article we ran three months ago). So I finally just had Angie call her and talk to her voice mail about deadlines and stuff. (She used to write for us -- what the hell more could we tell her?) Well, she now e-mailed Cruise Director and cc:'d me to say that she desperately needs to talk to me because I am so creative and I can get her people to interview (um, I thought she was supposed to find those, as I did not commission this story), and that I haven't called her. She did make the mistake (on her part) of saying that I had had Angie contact her because I was slammed with deadlines and couldn't talk, but she said that simply wasn't enough information, so she was appealing to him.
I want to fucking kill. I work my ASS off with no compensation for furlough and weekend days worked, and I get in trouble because Teacher's Pet is hurt that I haven't called her to tell her how to do the job she used to do?
I have another dipshit who is a subscriber. I interviewed him for an obituary. I had asked him to write down some thoughts after our talk (because I had also delivered the news of his buddy's death -- he was shaken up) if he felt the need. I thought they were great, and I used them. Dipshit re-sent the file four more times (with revisions), even after the paper was printed. I had responded to the first set to say those were great and that I would love it if he could provide a photo of the deceased. He of course replies by revising his text and sending a headshot of HIMSELF!!!
So he was angry that I didn't reply back to that, so he called my supervisor and complained that he really needed to know the status. I don't understand why I owe any explanations to anyone about what I do -- I had told him the initial submission was great, and because I was three days' behind in writing the story, I was going to take it and run with it and go hide from the world in the midst of deadline hell so I could get the paper done.
I hate fuckers who cause problems. Really fucking hate them. I mean, this is the shit that appears on my performance evaluations -- nobody cares that I work with Angie to train her on my job, nobody cares that we do readings on good business management or that we work so well together or that I solve every fucking crisis that crosses my desk. No, I get chastised for not being able to outright prevent every crisis and I get burned for the fact that I need to vent before going on with my day. They fail to understand that I am a walking pressure cooker while I am here, and that yeah, I may bitch here and there, but I put on a smile and deal with these idiot readers and leaders and other staff.
Speaking of crises, I have a production here -- the postage check didn't arrive at the post office for my papers to be mailed today. Turns out the check went out yesterday (I had asked for it to be AT the post office on the 21st). The post office called, and the check did arrive late today, but it was $400 short (I need to look into this, because I'd sent more than I thought was necessary). So I put in a requisition to have $500 wired to the post office immediately. But, of course, my boss and her secretary are AWOL, so no one has approved my request. A lovely gal in Finance just came to ask for the requisition, but as it has not been approved, she agreed to get the money ready and just hold onto it till the Demure!TM signature arrives to her. It's nice to know that SOME people are efficient and care about their fellow man -- I of course wasn't prepared to walk into such a shitstorm after taking one lousy day off. This is why I don't ever take time for myself -- one, I can never schedule it, and two, it's like everything collapses when I'm not here to hold it together.
I had absolutely no plans to do much of anything today, other than avoiding work at all costs (read: no Tuesdays with Demure!TM) -- I'll officially do anything to avoid that weekly torturous meeting!
I ended up spending too much money at Old Navy, having a lovely hot pastrami lunch from Togo's, cleaning up at the Crate & Barrel Outlet in Old Town, getting a slice of triple chocolate mousse cake from the Alexandria Pastry Shop and a sugar-free vanilla latte from S'bucks.
Alas, that was only my morning. ;)
You see, there was this dress I have been coveting since yesterday. It's black and knee-length, with hot-pink rosettes at the top and a few at the bottom. There's a hot-pink layer of crinoline beneath the dress, and it's just freakin' cute. I'd seen it at Hecht's (retail price: $120) yesterday when I dropped off my car for service at the Goodyear across the parking lot. What was weird was that, when I walked in, I had a vision that I would see the dress that would've been perfect for last weekend's wedding. And sure enough, I walked up to this fabulous dress immediately.
I had even tried it on, and it was perfect. I rarely try things on that I'm going to buy, let alone things I know I am not going to take out of the store. I grudgingly left the dress, citing financial distress and also having nowhere to wear it.
Shan and I met up for dinner tonight, and the table was full of balloons and gifts and a lovely ice cream cake. After we ate and put all the goodies in my car, we were off to the shops at Landmark Mall for some window-shopping to fill up our evening before the grand "American Idol" finale (I've sent 30 votes to Diana already!). And Shan asked to see the dress I have been talking about nonstop.
Let me put in some background. I bought some silver earrings with hot-pink crystals today, and I managed to pass up a tiny hot-pink handbag, figuring I really didn't have anything to wear with it other than that damn dress that I couldn't afford. And Shan was wearing hot-pink and black, ironically -- the same colors in my beloved dress.
And if you believe in signs, when we went to Hecht's, there was one dress (in my size!) on the racks, and it was the one I had tried on yesterday, because there were two Maddie hairs on it that hadn't quite fallen off since my little fashion show for myself. Shan fell in love with the dress and said I had to find a way to have it.
Well, as if divine intervention struck, I suddenly noticed a sign above my head that all dresses and pantsuits were 30 percent off! So I said, fuck it, I don't need any more signs than this, so I took the dress to the register. Where, of course, I was promptly told that this particular dress wasn't on sale yet.
Bah. The sale didn't start till tomorrow, and I was told that said dress shouldn't have been on that display in the first place.
Shan was having none of it and had them call a manager. I was crushed to watch the salesperson toss my gorgeous dress into a crumpled heap on her desk. Shan scooped the damn thing up and refused to put it down till she argued with the manager that the sale sign didn't belong over a dress if it wasn't on sale. She told me we were not leaving the store without it and that I would not pay full price.
Sure enough, the manager let the salesperson ring it up (with tax, it was just under $90). And I already have the earrings to match! (That's a story for another day -- let's just say that I ended up stepping on the earrings in Claire's earlier, and I couldn't find another pair like them, but I hadn't damaged them and simply had to buy them because they had found me!) Soon, the lovely dress was all wrapped up (on the hanger, of course) and in my hands within minutes. I was so fucking pleased. :)
On my last birthday, Shan and I were hoofing around the mall when I saw, fell in love with and bought my emerald ring. I swear, she's my good luck charm! The ring had been on sale, and I had just been saying earlier that very day how much I had wanted to own something with my birthstone but in a silver setting. The ring sits in a white gold band. How perfect!
I had bemoaned briefly the fact that the dress hadn't been available when I was shopping for my bridesmaid dress, but she said fuck it, that wedding wasn't my event and the dress I got tonight was for me to wear to any event of my choosing. I had a minor epiphany -- there's someone in whom I've had a passing romantic interest, but I realized this person might never take me to the Kennedy Center or somewhere else fabulous where this dress would belong, so I need to find someone who will take me to the places where I am destined to go. Not that I'd rule someone out for the mere fact that formal attire isn't part of their vocabulary, but if I want to be a party coordinator (and indeed I do), then I need to not only look the part, but also be the part. And this dress is me and the person I want to be, all at the same time. It's fun and flirty and formal and funky, all told -- like 1964 meets 2004. (Or, in my case, 1974 meets 2004!)
I can't wait to have somewhere to wear it, but I am truly the type of girl who has the clothes and just needs an occasion, instead of having an occasion and searching high and low for the right thing to wear, like I did for the wedding. And while that dress was a smashing success, it took more effort to find it than I needed at that point in my life. In any event, with the new dress, it's nice to know that, if a fabulous invitation just happens to crop up, I'll be ready to accept and be divine on cue. :)
I just took the car in for an oil change and tire rotation. I found out that I need new brakes and two new tires -- I was told that my 2002 car will not pass inspection without all of those.
So, the debate occurs: spend $250 on a kit full of sex toys, or $400 on car repairs? Oh, yeah, and I am two car payments, 24 student loan payments, one cable/Internet payment and two cell phone payments behind.
From a dildo party last night to a cosmetic party today. Can we say bankrupt, boys and girls? :)
I did get to meet the lovely Wee Kitten that Tiff and Tom have adopted. So. Very. Cute! She looks just like Kadi did at that age, only this one seems smarter. Then again, that probably isn't a difficult status to achieve -- we don't call Kadi "Shorty B." (or "Short Bus") for nothing! ;)
A coupla weeks ago, Kadi busted down my patio door. I was sweeping up and cleaning my grill/outdoor furniture yesterday, and I realized that Kadi had taken some of her toys outside that day while I was away -- two coffee stirrers and a Popsicle stick (she loves to play fetch). And as I swept, she was quite indignant that I tossed her toys, and she jumped up on the screen, slid down it and made several claw marks in retribution. I swear, I'm gonna need a new screen every three months with her in the house!
Went into work for awhile today. As usual, I had no real weekend. I talked with Tiff (about the Passion Parties) and Lynn (about Mary Kay) and the whole self-employment through hosting parties thing. It's not how I imagined starting my own business, but it would certainly help with my ever-mounting debt. I would like to launch the Passion Parties, but that requires an initial investment that I am simply not capable of making at this point. *sigh* But worse comes to worst (as it often does), I buy the $250 kit, make no sales, and have lots of vibrating toys and slippery lubes to entertain myself with as the cats and I are sleeping in the car for the next few years. ;)
Okay, y'all missed a GREAT soiree last night (of course, because I always throw great parties!). But this was no ordinary party -- it was a Passion Party, full of things that go buzz in the night, stimulate your tender bits and grease up the ol' axels, so to speak. :)
I'm already two car payments behind, but I got myself a nice Jelly Osaki -- a purple toy with a beaver-shaped "thumb" piece, complete with a little tongue. ;) That was actually free for me, because sales were so good I could get a free toy, and there were only three of us making purchases! I did grab a vibrating shower toy and lots of lotiony-type items to make (the current) sex for one as much fun as possible. :)
I think I want to become a consultant, but I'm gonna need to grab a corner in D.C. if I plan to make the initial investment in a toybox to take to parties of my own. The problem is that I don't really have female friends who would be able to host said parties -- I am a fag hag, and most of the stuff was for beginners or the lightly experimental, so we figured that the lone butt plug would've gotten us laughed out of a boy party!
Our party consultant (who shall retain her anonymity on this site) did a great job and made sure we had lots of fun stuff to sample and play with (hence the easy sale of the Jelly Osaki!). I know my friends picked up some "bullets" -- nice, silent and tiny pocket rockets that are perfect for slipping into your closet at work and giving yourself that extra lil "oomph" to get you through the day. I would've gotten one, but they take watch batteries, and I am the type who will go out and buy a new watch before getting around to replacing a watch battery. :)
I tried to plan the food accordingly, serving hot dogs and sausage balls and shrimp and other fine goodies. And I found awesome penis straws at Spencer's, which we all enjoyed sipping from! Nobody took the Willy Pops, so that just means I will have them all to myself during the lonely time until my new toys arrive.
I was slightly bummed that I wasn't shopping for toy use with a partner -- these parties are very much aimed at the couple who wants to spice up their lives a bit. But that's OK -- I always know where to find more toys if ever the day (or partner) should come!
Anyway, it was the best non-birthday party I have ever had. :) And it just goes to show that if you'v'e got to buy your own presents, you might as well buy the best. So while I'm sort of bummed about turning 30 27 on Tuesday, at least I'll be ringing in the new decade year on an uplifting note!
So there's a party at Chez Dawn tonight. I had a whole schedule of cleaning, shopping and cooking ready. Needless to say, I was called into work early and just got home, so there is no goddamned way this is going to work out. At least I'm among friends, so the house looks like shit and I don't care. Hope the grill works, 'cause burgers and dogs are the way to go tonight!
I guess, in effect, this is how I'm ringing in my birthday. Yay. Another year kicked off with chaos, stress, disillusionment and nervous energy expended on mostly the wrong things. Hurrah.
I had something more intelligent to blog about, but I'll save that for tomorrow. Right now, I'm gonna jump in the shower, enjoy the soothing sounds of the langoliers cicadas and hope for the best.
All I have to say is that I had decided, with this issue of the paper, to not worry -- to accept that things will happen as they may and that all would fall into place whether I was stressing about it or not. I see now that I might as well stress out in advance, instead of getting that kick in the ass for not worrying sooner.
Oh, and the chaos wasn't my fault -- if the print shop had called me on Thursday or even Friday with all the issues we were solving today, I would be feeling a whole lot better right now. Bah.
Although Washingtonienne needs her own reality show -- scandalous!
But apparently "RW" will be in Adams Morgan -- in a wonderful district full of bars, bars and more bars. Sounds like every other season of the show. ...
The newspaper still hasn't gone to bed (it was due yesterday). Waiting for an ad and Cruise Director's column, so we took the extra day for extensive proofing and design tweaking. If nobody else is in a rush, neither should those of us responsible for getting the damned thing out the door.
Shan has to get emergency surgery today -- at the same hospital that butchered the hell outta me last September. She's got a wall of gall stones, which was discovered after she visited three other doctors who told her she was in perfect health. Not to mention that pain, but her mother-in-law "Queen Bea" is blowing into town and staying till Sunday. Poor Shan never gets a break in this life!
Spent much of yesterday talking with my friends/colleagues about paying attention to spirit guides, patterns in our lives and signs that we're on course. I wish I had taken notes during the discussion -- I felt so empowered in the reminders and insights into the fact that I am so much more than I give myself credit for, and I can BE so much more. I decided it was like a two-hour orgasm, the way my heart was pulsating and my mind was racing.
Sure, work has been particularly stressful lately (not to mention that I accidentally replied to a message from Frosty instead of forwarding it to my friends with my snarky remarks!), but she'll get over it, and so will I. A new zen has taken hold of me -- the voices tell me not to worry, and damn it, I'm listening to them.
Speaking of paying attention to the voices in your head, I was on the couch last night, doing some reading, and I suddenly said out loud, "Dawn, call your mother." So I did. She sounded stunned to hear from me, telling me, "How funny -- I just said to myself, 'Dawn, call your mother,' because I hadn't heard from you in a week and was hoping you were OK." How wild is THAT?
Anyway, I was reminded that your heart knows exactly what you should be doing, even though we squelch it with logic, with excuses, with procrastination. Don't fall or continue to fal into that, friends -- show the world what you're made of! I'll be right there beside you, shining myself. ...
The wedding was amazing. Absolutely and utterly breathtaking. The ceremony was appropriately spiritual, my reading went well, the food was delectable, the guests were beautiful and the grooms were attractive and well-spoken.
The best part of the ceremony was when the boys recited their own vows. Not a dry eye within four city blocks, my friends ... including mine. I was talking to Paul's friend Ann, who flew in from California for the wedding, and we were saying how so many times you leave a wedding, and you start taking bets on how long it will last. Yet with them, we really viewed yesterday as a continuation of the journey -- a milestone to be marked for Bryan and Paul.
Paul told the story of how they met -- rather, of how love takes its own course. They met near the museum where they were married. What if they had crossed the street in different places, if they did not see each other on the sidewalk? It was a wonderful lesson in taking the time to make sure that you realize that the love of your life could be two feet from you at any given time, and you need to be aware that the person who will change your life is literally within arm's reach, so don't miss out. They spoke of weathering the course together, of learning from each other, of Paul picking up a paintbrush and writing poetry -- things he may never have done, had Bryan not encouraged him to do so because those were passions of Bryan's own (aside to readers: Paul has become an amazing artist and poet -- you'd never think he hadn't been doing those things all his life!).
Personally, I absolutely fell in love with their families and friends. I was continually amazed how many people approached me and said, "So YOU'RE the Dawn I've been hearing so much about! I'm glad to finally have a face to put with all the stories!" And likewise, the same was true in their cases. One thing I have always loved about the boys is how POSITIVE they are to be around -- how every encounter, every outing, every conversation becomes a cherished memory for them. Every photo they show me has a story behind it -- the fragrance in the air, the taste of the food, the shape of the clouds in the sky, the crazy discussion that had been taking place prior to the flash going off.
You simply cannot have these boys in your life and not be touched by the significance and wonder of absolutely everything around them ... and you. I am a better person for knowing them, and I have been so enriched by us being a part of each other's courses in life.
There's so much more to say, but I'd like to keep pondering, keep smiling, keep laughing out loud at silly moments as well as significant ones. But I will close on a note from the boys' toast at the reception -- they thanked us for making a special day an ordinary one as well. Instead of us thinking for a second that what they were doing was off-the-wall or inappropriate, we viewed it as an ordinary, expected ritual for two people in love -- we did not treat it as anything more or less -- we got dressed up and spent the day together in the most loving of ways. And someday, gay marriage will, in fact, be ordinary, and we can focus only on celebrating special people who fall in love, just like we did yesterday.
For those of you out there who are celebrating my friends and your friends just like them, thank you for fighting the good fight with us. :)
The oh-so-scandalous black mesh ruffly boy-short underwear with the tiny pink dots and pink ribbon waist that I have been saving for today do NOT go well under pantyhose. The ruffles curl up in the back and cause a major panty line. *sigh* I guess I have to settle for not-so-scandalous satin wonders. Bummer.
It's funny how you look so very forward to a day that it seems like it's an eternity away, and then, before you know it, you awaken and realize that it's the day two of your best friends are getting married.
Kind of like when you're dyeing your hair -- that 25 minutes to leave it on seems soooo far away, but then you look at a clock and it's already time to rinse!
Today at 2:30 p.m., Bryan and Paul will, at what is sure to be a beautiful ceremony, say their vows and officially unite. Sure, gay marriage still is a long ways away from happening in Virginia, but their pastor has enthusiastically agreed to perform what, for all intents and purposes, is a wedding, just without the paperwork that goes along with it.
I had the pleasure of meeting their families at a rehearsal last night. Not that I can remember most of their names, but it was so heartwarming to meet these individuals from all corners of the country about whom the boys are always talking -- the people who made them the amazing human beings they are today. Ironically, both Bryan and Paul are twins, so I could easily pick out the more-familiar-looking audience members with ease. It was empowering to be surrounded by parents and brothers and friends -- and everyone in the room looked thrilled and comfortable and eager to support what their beloved boys are doing.
I made fast friends with Rehka, another member of the wedding party whose son is the ringbearer. She was having a "shoe dilemma," so we figured out what she was wearing and how I could help (my closet looks like a Payless/Marshall's disaster sale), and we wear roughly the same size, so I'm bringing some shoes and we'll have a little fashion show before the event. :) We talked this morning, and I really like her and hope to keep up our connection after the ceremony/reception.
Her son is thrilled to be the ringbearer, although he would rather that Bryan were marrying his mom instead of Paul! At his precious 7 years old, when he realized that Bryan is marrying Paul, he asked, "Mom, is Bryan queer?" And last night, apparently there was a special on "20/20" about transsexuals, and he wanted to know what that was all about and if transsexuals are gay. He is so precocious -- we sure as hell weren't asking questions like that at 7! And the cool thing was, he really wanted to know the answers, and she sounds like she explained them very well. She's just hoping he will keep still during the ceremony -- it's so tough to be that little and so inquisitive and yet have to pay attention, but I think he'll be interested to watch. He already knows it's a big-boy job and it's a real honor to be part of this special day, so all shall be well.
I am doing a reading at the event. It's short but it has lots of religious reference (as, of course, it is from the Bible and all. ...). There will be no microphone, so Paul instructed me to use my "big-girl voice." LOL. If lightning doesn't strike and I don't go *poof* when the lightning hits, I should be fine! But it's a long way to the fire exits, so hope for the best, friends!
As an attendant in the wedding, I feel like I am participating in something special -- monumental, even. It's always a treat when people fall in love and take the next step to cement that bond for life. But we're also in highly politically charged times, and it's mind-boggling to realize that someday, couples like these fabulous guys won't have to be ignored by our state or country -- that maybe, future generations who wish to wed (no matter which combination of genders approaches the altar) will do so with ease.
They asked us to not do wedding gifts -- all they want is for us to be there. They did suggest that, if we were so inclined, we could make a donation to a favorite charity. I found a site, Married for Good, where you can find a palette of worthy causes where you can honor your favorite couple with a donation. But did I? Not yet. Is it tacky to make a donation or give a gift after the wedding? I swear, the past few months have been c-h-a-o-t-i-c, and I thought I had all the time in the world to come up with something. But alas, the day has arrived, and I have ideas but nothing to show for it.
Anwyho, the time has come to rinse my hair (I'm going to try being a brunette for awhile -- maybe it'll make me smarter!), as well as to slap on the self-tanner and do all the girly rituals that come with being a bridesmaid. Wish our boys luck today and always, and pray I don't fall in front of all the guests!!!
Updated, being that I'm at work at 10 p.m. and can't log into the fucking server and I need to do something creative with my time. ...
I don't have time to answer right now (read: it's a furlough day and I am working unpaid!), but Feel free to steal 'em and answer 'em. The credit should go to the cool kids linked in Question 5. ...
1. Weird uses for animal excrement: scientists in South Korea are developing a medicine from pig urine (note: American scientists did this first!), and yuppies worldwide are shelling out $200 per pound for a rare coffee bean harvested from animal feces. What is wrong with yuppies, that they pay hundreds of dollars to literally consume shit? If you had to use waste for any reason other than its intended use (ie., to be flushed), what would you do? No poop. Will not touch it. But I hear that there is cow dung in my beloved Nag Champa incense, and it smells damn good, so use it for that. Just don't ask me to touch it in its raw form.
2. When alt-weeklies fight: it’s rare a city has more than one alternative newsweekly, if at all, but Seattle, lucky home to thousands of young, angsty, hipsters, has two, and they are waging a war against each other right now for market share. What do you think of the alternative press? Pittsburgh had two as well. I used to pick them both up -- the IP had better editorial content and the City Paper had the Savage Love and better personal ads. I can't remember which one had better cartoons, but at least that was the main difference between the two. They were fairly interchangeable, because the alternative press thrives on advertising and not much else -- same ads, different papers.
That said, I can't ever find a Washington City Paper to save my life, and they even print at Gannett, like I do, but I can't even find a fucking draft of it floating around the print shop. Sure, if I would actually go into the city, I'd find one, but who'd want to do that? I made two trips to Old Town today (and one more tomorrow), and that's enough city driving/parking for me for a lifetime!
3. From News of the Weird: University of Southern California researchers announced in February that they were able to breed mice with a certain skin gene "overexpressed," resulting in the mices' growing thicker hair, more whiskers and "significantly larger" "external genitalia." How do you feel about cosmetic surgery? Genital enhancers? If you were given a coupon worth one free visit to the neighborhood surgeon, would you use it? What would you change? Oh HELL yeah, I would do cosmetic surgery! I want to be on "The Swan," FOX's latest reality show disaster. I want the lipo and everything that follows. Sign my homely ass UP!!!
Genital enhancers? Who doesn't want a bigger cock? I like to feel "filled up" -- and it wouldn't take $30 to fill up my tank!!! ;)
4. Summertime in DC means heat, and heat means...water sports! (No, not that kind, pervert!) Community swimming pools: neighborhood fun, or a percolator for disease? Is this a rhetorical question? Bah. I keep hearing in the Pittsburgh news how they have no money to open up the community pools, and I say so be it. We had some creative names for the public pools (especially the one at Highland Park), but suffice to say I won't mention them here other than to say that you have to look at what kinds of people are attracted to free pool access ... namely, the unwashed masses. *twitch*
5. And now a selfish question from the writers of the Friday Five, who are having a cookout today: what are the keys to grilling a perfect piece of meat? Marinades and spices can fix up any piece of meat and make it special. Try some Creole seasoning or any kind of chipotle or raspberry marinade. Can't go wrong!
I also like to tenderize meat as a stress reliever. Take a hammer and whack the fuck out of it, I say. My mom, when she was fighting with my former and always evil step-father, would pretend slabs of meat were his head. Our steaks were always so tender after that. ...
Demure!TM was sniffing around, asking lots of questions about whether I would want an additional staff person and how I would use him/her. I had lots to say (about how I'd rather up my freelance budget instead), but the bottom line is that she was clearly concerned about the "line of succession" -- i.e., they are anticipating I'm gonna jet outta here soon. I expressed interest in cross-training in other departments, working from home and delegating more to freelancers while keeping my current team intact.
I'm sure nothing will come of it, but it is distracting me from the all-nighter that I KNOW I'm gonna be pulling tonight. ...
I am going to have a better day than yesterday. Really, it shouldn't be too hard to improve upon nothing. ;)
I decided that whether or not I make another monumental move, I have to work on me. The Dawn of five years ago, I've decided, would've despised the woman she'd become. The Dawn of today has been increasingly too mentally exhausted to notice the difference or even care.
My evolution (or descent, if you will) started five years ago. I was never politically correct -- my mission in life was to have a ball, at any cost. People came in and out of my life, as I did with theirs, and we all learned from each other and moved on. Jobs were secondary to a social life. But then I started working all-consuming jobs that required me to watch every word I said and every action I did. I learned that flying under the radar was best -- if I went unnoticed, I stayed out of trouble, for the most part. I gave up being the squeaky wheel in favor of becoming passive-aggressive in all areas of my life. The end result? I am a walking pressure cooker.
Particularly in the D.C. region, everyone is like that. If you cut off someone in traffic or flip them off or remind them that their name should have been "asshole," as I often do, people snap. Don't ever cut me off in traffic, or I will tailgate your ass till you move out of my way. And lots of us are like that. I think we are so frustrated and so in a hurry to go nowhere that we forget common courtesy and just can't forgive the random stranger who happens to perturb us. I find I don't get really angry at the big things, but I get really pissed off at the little things. It's not like you can beat somene at the office with a cluestick, but you can with relative ease tell the cab driver who doesn't know where his turn signal is to go take a flying fuck.
Here's the deal: performance reviews are looming. And we won't get more than a 3 percent raise, no matter how well we performed. I exploded on Demure!TM on Tuesday, how my last review was a farce, how I busted my ass and she could only focus on the fact that I miss meetings all the time and therefore gave me a shitty raise. And Solitaire and the other useless crew got a higher raise than I did, even though I was clearly committed to my job way more than they will ever be. And I said I don't even want my annual review because I know I won't even get a 1.5 percent because of how stingy Demure!TM is with corporate money -- you'd think it was coming from her own personal bank account.
What also set me off is how she told me to review Angie, who, admittedly, is a true asset to my department as well as my personal sanity. But Demure!TM told me that if I give her a 3 percent raise, that doesn't seem like enough money, so if I want to give her a 3.25 percent raise, I can feel free. I, of course, asked what kind of compensation I am entitled to, being that I couldn't get a favorable review when I was doing two full-time jobs for the price of one last year. I told her it's absolutely demoralizing and that nobody looked out for my well-being the way I am expected to (and plan to) look out for Angie. Further, I told Demure!TM that she really has no idea not only how much work we do, but also how many side projects I arrange for Angie and me -- reading articles on leadership, learning how to get along in the working world, etc. I am committed to her personal growth just as much as her professional growth, yet I have no mentors of my own (although I have kind of goaded Scot into that role for me, a role he is taking quite seriously -- he is always there for me to help me make decisions, craft defenses and bandage the wounds).
I had to go on about the furlough days -- I am so broke and I can't catch up because EVERY paycheck reflects a furlough (that I've worked!). The thing is, we took them proactively, not reactively, according to Finance Guy, and my argument is that we're going to get shittier-than-usual raises as a REWARD for losing pay. I told her that they are going to lose some really good people if they don't show us some genuine appreciation/compensation soon. She said that we keep losing members, so if we didn't have the furloughs, we'd be in a real budget mess.
So I noted, then, that, "OK, so we are hemmorhaging members, and it's the staff's responsibility to keep the organization afloat when nobody is doing anything to recruit/retain members?" (That's her job, by the way, but she didn't budget for recruitment efforts.) I said I don't mind helping out, and if I truly took the furloughs as personal time instead of having them fall smack dead in deadline week every issue, I wouldn't breathe a word of complaint, because my personal time means the world to me. And that's why we're on early deadlines this month -- I am NOT going to be there for the May 28 furlough. The first one I'll have to myself! I wanted my staff to have a long, nice Memorial Day weekend, so we are busting our asses this week to kick the paper out the door. But shit like that will never show up on my review -- not that I do anything for a favorable review, but it would be nice to be recognized for being just as much of a leader/mentor as I am a worker bee.
I really don't hate my job. I just get overwhelmed by the series of little things that make it less an adventure than a sentence for something I did wrong in my past life. And it's way better than my last job, although as Tiff noted, better doesn't always mean it's good.
Today's word is "no." I had to abandon a story I was writing because e-mail was down for five days and interviews for it didn't come in, and I have too many other projects to shuffle this one in. I have a life, a weekend full of activities. I don't get paid more to take on extra work. I take on more because I like it, not because it's overly necessary. "No" is a word I have trouble saying in all areas of my life -- I'm more prone to "maybe" or a compromise, although sometimes it's just easier to do something than to worry about defending my self-preservation. But I hit an epiphany that I will always come first, from now on. And in the long run, will my crappy excuse for a raise mean a damn thing to me? Not really. I want a fair evaluation more so than a monetary reward (although that would be nice to have, too!). I want to be recognized as a contributing member of a team -- a good leader, even -- as opposed to just another cog in the wheel whose existence doesn't matter. On the other hand, my opinion is the only one that counts, and I know I've done well and will continue to do so. I just have to find my own motivation, because my mentor and my friends may lead me to it, but I'm the only one who can make it happen. ...
So I came back to watching "American Idol." I missed it last night, but I'm tuning into the results show. And AGAIN, Latoya and Ghetto FabulousFantasia are in the bottom two.
And Jasmine stays.
What the fuck?
Look, Jasmine does her best. She is, though, simply not THE best.
I'm glad Diana's sticking around another week. She rocked socks last night, just from what I heard of the highlights.
I'm with Randy -- this is now twice that the votes simply do not reflect the talent. Even Jasmine looks stunned that she's staying.
And didn't Fantasia wear that shirt last night? Oh, yeah, nice birth control patch -- it caught the spotlight quite well. Ghetto broad. And what was UP with those horrid blue sneakers?
Stay tuned. I'm certain I will update this in five minutes. ...
UPDATE Are you people out of your MINDS?!?! Latoya goes? This is So. Freaking. Wrong!!!
Big epiphany day. Had long talks with Scot and Shan about how I am pretending to be something I'm not and doing things that run contrary to the person/worker I am.
I am always the peacemaker, the do-er. This is not my comfort zone. I am supposed to be making waves, following my own beat and spouting ideas and dreams. I do none of this -- at least, I do not make it a point to do these things. If they happen, it's usually inadvertent. I suppress my frustration at my role and just contninue doing things to keep the life and job afloat, regardless of what I feel about them.
Shan invited me to move to Oregon with her. I have yet to say no. And maybe that's because it's not the worst idea I've heard in a long time. I don't view it as giving up on my current life so much as taking an opportunity to find out how to live the life I've always known was meant for me.
I've always wondered what would happen if I just started screaming and smashing everything in sight. Today, the passion threatens to override logic and self-control. And it's been a long time in coming. ...
Oh, but I don't sing that lyric fondly. God, no. Tiff and I used to live RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET at this time last year from where a teen's hands were chopped off with a machete during some sort of gang attack.
I've never been so happy to be out of Bren Mar! *shudder*
I've been eating entirely too well lately (take a look at my bank account -- rather, the lack of anything in it!). However, for a gal with $10 in her pocket,Tiff introduced me tonight to the fabulous Pho ... hurrah for cheap, filling and tasty Vietnamese beef noodle soup! Good lord, I told her "I could have sex with Pho!" and I ain't kidding. Like Tiff said, it comes in two sizes: huge and really huge. The small was enough to feed a moderate-sized village. Mmmm, Pho. *slurp*
Ten times more expensive but oh-so-worth-it was the Circle Bistro, where we celebrated Shawn's brand-spanking new master's degree on Sunday. My advice: do not go there hungry, but go there for an elegant meal on a payday. We went for the fondue, but note that if you're in the dining area, you can't get the cheese fondue (that's only at the bar). We ordered platters of meat and fish, and well, we weren't quite expecting it to be raw. We got fondue pots full of au jus or whatever the hell it was, and it takes two minutes to cook a sliver of seafood and four minutes for a hunka beef, lamb or pork. To curb our hunger, we ordered like four dozen appetizers of chicken fingers (served in paper cones, as were the cheese fries), steak, pork , eggs, apple fritters and whatever else looked good, which was everything. :)
The service wasn't exactly flawless at either place, but at Pho, what do you expect? You're sitting at formica tables in what looks like a mess hall, but the place is clean and your food arrives within five minutes, so bitching simply doesn't occur to you as an option. At the Circle Bistro, the bartender was amazing and when Shawn and I snuck over there for one of many smokes, we told her to make us something tasty, and she whipped up one of her special concoctions that got me nice and tipsy. I had another smoke out there with wait staff who hadn't signed in for the day yet, and they were just divinely friendly and chatty. Our waiter was a little bit perturbed with us, but I'm sure the tip on a $200 meal made him like us a little bit better. :)
I would be remiss if I didn't mention the graduation. Judy Woodruff was the keynote, and she rocked. Addressing the graduating journalists (and speaking directly to me, as a practicing "journalist" if you can call it that!), she said how we as a profession really screwed up during the whole Iraq War mess -- how we collectively decided to stand behind our country and not question the war. We were so patriotic and so eager to see Sept. 11, 2001, avenged that we effectively enabled our administration to lead our soldiers (and now civilians like Nic Berg) into utter disaster, and at what cost? It was a lesson to be learned for not only the master's and bachelor's candidates at American University, but also those graduating with their MBAs and other fields that hold us accountable. I was applauding her every statement, much to the chagrin of the people behind me who were muttering under their breath while she spoke.
Oh, the Nic Berg travesty broke my heart. I e-mailed one of the local news stations about how devastating it is to even be sharing this information with the masses -- it's not that I want to be in the dark about the horrors that the war has brought, but I wonder if we're thrwarting military operations by publicizing these things, not to mention effectively unraveling the mental health of our audiences who simply can't wrap their minds around this kind of tragedy.
I mean, yes, our country's military shamed a few Iraqi hostages. I neither condone nor support their actions, because America is -- and should be -- better than that. We handle our power with grace, and our military has a reputation for treating our POWs respectfully and fairly. Now, we go and fuck up once, and look what happens in retaliation! Not to mention, but a news report mentioned that more photos are forthcoming of the Iraqis abusing and torturing women and a variety of other Americans. Not to mention all the corpses and near-dead soldiers whom they burned and hanged and dragged around on car bumpers for their citizens to admire.
I talk to my grandfather, a veteran from WWII, and he's not surprised in the least by anything he sees. There was almost a certain comfort in wars NOT being televised (pre-1991) -- you knew shit was getting ugly overseas, but you really didn't know a fraction of what was happening. How did all those men return home and resume living "normal" lives? Sometimes my grandfather will tell absolutely horrific stories about the images that have never really managed to leave his memory, and I commend him and everyone who fought for world peace for knowingly going in and staying in until the war was done.
What bugs me the most (and it's a wide array to choose from) is that in the case of Nic Berg and of course Daniel Pearl is that they were civilians just trying to earn a living when they were slaughtered. I mean, it's real fuckin' easy for a merry band of terrorists to capture someone who isn't wielding an M-16. Not to say that capturing a soldier is any better, because it's still rotten, but aren't they in violation of the Geneva Convention? How do we avenge this? Or is it just a neverending, vicious cycle of avenging something the other has done or supposedly done?
God. When is this nightmare going to end? Or can it?
They're blurry. They suck. I don't have Photoshop at home. :) But what the hell -- here's the gang out at Marrakesh. And for some reason, my boobs were considered to be guests in their own right. ...
E-mail has been down at work all day -- pretty fuckin' rotten when you're waiting for interviews and articles to arrive, especially when tomorrow is deadline day and I haven't even started my stories!
I'll have some photos to post soon. The photos from Marrakesh didn't turn out too well, and they require much Photoshopping. Bah.
I need my bed. Now. It's another horrendous newspaper cycle -- this is now the third month in a row when I won't be able to catch up on blogreading and e-mails. Weep for me.
Queen of the Underworld called me today. She won't be able to produce a column this month. I am fine with it because I hate reading her incoherent drivel, but you know, how hard is it to write a column every month? It's not like deadlines are a surprise. Asshat.
I'll hopefully have some pix up on Monday of the ever-fabulous party to celebrate Bryan's last night out as a bachelorette last night. Shawn, Bryan and I started out at the D.C. Eagle for cocktails so that Bryan wouldn't realize that we were waiting for other guests to convene at the restaurant where we were headed. He was surprised and thrilled that we were NOT in fact treating him to dinner from the dollar menu at McDonald's, but, rather, to an elegant experience at Marrakesh, surrounded by friends.
I've never been to Marrakesh, but I loved it. Lots of plate-sharing of fine Moroccan foods, curling up on comfy couches and running to the back hallway to smoke because we couldn't light up at the tables. We met some new people and hung out with old friends, and it was like we've all known each other for years. Life has been stressing the fuck out of all of us for the past few months, but it was truly a time for celebrating friendships, our respective abilities to survive all the crazy shit life has been throwing at us lately and, most importantly, the good things in the present and the lovely future that lies at our feet.
In any event, I haven't laughed like I did last night in a long time. My favorite moment of the evening came when Shawn and I snuck off to the smoking hallway, and we were giggling and gossiping and jumping up and down, shrieking at some infinitesimal-yet-oh-so-huge news I shared. Really, the news I shared (and I ain't telling it here -- sorry, kids!) was quite monumental when it happened, yet sharing it with Shawn -- who for all intents in purposes is my brother ... my family -- made for just as special a moment as the one that prompted the discussion about it in the first place.
After the three-hour dinner, complete with belly-dancing (not by us, natch!), we headed on over to Zigfelds/Secrets for a drag show and naked dancing boys. Of course, the porn was the real highlight of the experience.
All in all, the best $150 night out I've ever had! ;)
And tomorrow -- Shawn's graduation with his master's degree in journalism! Now let's all hope I will be awake and in the car at 6 a.m. as scheduled!!!
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 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.
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!
I just got an apology from Cruise Director for his trying to make an ass out of me in public recently. I guess I complained to the right person, 'cause he was in my office within a day. Of course, it started out as an excuse, like, "Well, I was only going to be in the meeting for a few minutes, and I was in a hurry and I guess I didn't say it right, but it was really supposed to be a compliment." Um hmm. Sure it was. I did get the apology and the compliment (behind closed doors, of course). I was kind of worried when he came into my office -- I figured he'd heard me calling him Angry Butterfly, the way he manages to stomp and yet flit down the halls all at the same time. ...
Actually, my day is off to a grand start, because Pussy Demure!TM called off today -- we were scheduled to meet this morning, along with another party I invited, and she called in to advise me to just meet without her but be sure to fill her in on every excruciating detail ... although she did have her secretary ask me to consider rescheduling the meeting because Demure's input might be important. HAH -- FAT FUCKING CHANCE!
In any event, the meeting shall go on today as scheduled (I have intelligent people coming). Hurrah! Not that I look forward to the follow-up meeting with Demure, but just knowing I don't have to see her furry face today makes me a happy Dawn. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy -- isn't it sad how precious little it takes?
Did you hear that Karina Lombard ("Marina") is likely not to return to Showtime's "The L Word" next season? According to The L Word Online, if she does stay, then it may only be for two or three episodes. Sign the petition to save Karina and make sure she stays on the show!
I half-wonder if this, like the Jennifer Hudson/"American Idol" upset, is meant to attract drama. the Marina character's storyline was just about to take off during the recent season finale. I understand contract negotiations are the culprit. In any event, if you want to see more naked Marina in soft-core girl-girl porn, sign the damn petition already!
It's friggin hot in the hacienda today. My rambunctious kitten Kadi tore out the screen door to the balcony so she could get a tan on the balcony while I was out this afternoon. So the little shit is sitting in her cage right now so that I can keep the door open until I get a new screen, whenever the apartment management decides that will happen.
Maddie is happily lying inside the open door right now -- she knows she has it good here and has no desire to run screaming from our little abode. I hope, anyway. ;)
Sorry I've been off the earth for the past few weeks, kids. I'm in one of those moods where I will probably injure someone psychologically or physically without a moment's thought, and it's best if I just hibernate for the time being. Work has just been for absolute shit lately, and I've got the resume updated and ready to send to anywhere that won't siphon my will to live. I'm not real keen on going back into the hell of job interviews and the standard claims to be perky and organized and a team player (y'all know I ain't NONE of the above!), but I've reached the point of where I'll crack if I don't get out of my crazy routine and do something that is creative, challenging and personally satisfying (other than masturbation!).
Raising the practice of wasting time & bandwidth in the nation's capital to soaring artistic heights, searching for sapience in a cesspool of despair, indulging an addiction for coffee & cigarettes and ranting about nothing in particular.
Send lovin' to: P.O. Box 9663
Alex., Va. 22304
goddessdawn AT gmail DOT com
