The pillow I sit on at work when my tailbone hurts. I don't know where my mom got this from or when old baskets became valuable..
Me doing a Dark Helmet impression:
What the shit is this??
Steinway Street's newest hoochie boutique is taking class to a whole new level. I betcha she'd give you some Head Cheese...
A while ago I was in bed with this guy who is very well-endowed. Let's call him Wow. We had just woken up and I was laying down with my back toward him, yammering away about some sort of nonsense.
When I sleep on my side I tend to have my knees up to my chest in the fetal position with my ass sticking out. Since my bum was nearest to him, Wow grabbed me by the hips and yanked me closer so we could spoon. This would have been a completely adorable thing to do if Wow didn't have morning wood (morning redwood in his case) and the universe didn't enjoy putting me in ridiculous yet hysterical situations.
BAM! Wow's massive raging boner managed to ram me right in the tailbone. Two inches higher, I'd have a crushed vertebrae. Two inches lower, I'd have a second belly button and unpleasant bowel movements for life.
Wow and his lead pipe were fine. I was not. A direct blow to the tailbone is friggin' painful. I didn't feel it right away, but a few hours later it hurt to sit. The next day I had to take a two hour bus ride down to my parents' house. It's an unenjoyable ride to begin with, but that day it was unbearable as well. I tried sitting on my bookbag, kneeling on the seat, standing. It sucked. When I finally got to Jackson I had to come up with an excuse as to why I couldn't sit. I lied saying I was wrestling with Wow and caught the edge of the coffee table. Lame. I know my parents didn't believe me, but they didn't push the issue. They probably realized if I'm lying as an adult they don't want to know the truth...
The pain was manageable for the next few days, but then for some reason it got worse the following weekend. It hurt to sit down, lay down, even stand, so I went to the doctor. I lied to her by saying the remote was sticking up out of the couch and I accidentally plopped down on it. Lame again! I almost told her the truth, but I chickened out. It sounds like a failed anal attempt and I don't want anyone thinking I can't hang. Snootch.
This happened several months ago and I'm still in pain every once in a while. In fact, I'm sitting on a pillow right now. Unfortunately there's no real treatment for a tailbone injury. It's slow to heal and will probably be sensitive for a long time, especially since all I do is sit at a desk, at the bar, or on the couch.
The thing is every time it hurts I shake my head and laugh. I've had some funny shit happened to me in the past, but I never thought I'd get injured by a cock to the coccyx.
Here's an illustration:
Please note Wow is not a firecrotch, but I decided he should be.
I'm so done with Banana, but one last thing to mention is that we were introduced over a year ago. He was the first blast from the past I ran into this month. The other, who I'll name Con-Red, was on the subway with me on Monday.
Con-Red and I met at New York Comic Con last year. I spotted his red hair from across a huge conference room and immediately went into gingervitic convulsion. I HAD to meet him and I HAD to marry him. He had no choice. Unfortunately he was leaving the panel early and I couldn't run after him since I was watching Furbie's 10 year old son at the time. I was cockblocked by a child. Poop.
No sweat though, I had a feeling I'd find him and three hours later I did. I sidled up to him and said "I like redheads" (smooth) and within ten minutes we exchanged numbers and made tentative plans for the following weekend. Score!
Our date was on Valentine's Day. It was the longest date I ever had that did not involve a sleepover. We met at 2pm to see a movie in Union Square (Fanboys, we're both nerds), went out to eat, went to a bar to play pool, then ended up going into Williamsburg to two more bars and eventually seeing his friend's band play. I think we parted ways around 11pm. You'd think this would mean it was a great date, right? Wrong. It wasn't bad, it was just a bit random. He definitely wasn't my type...
Strike one, he arrived in a trench coat with a Blossom pin on it. Like Mayim Bialik Blossom.
Strike two, we ate at Johnny Rockets. His choice. Look, I'm not a snob. I don't need someone to spend a lot of money on a date, but who the hell eats at a chain restaurant in Manhattan??? (Okay, I'm a snob.)
Strike three, he talked the whole entire time except when he asked me about my dating experience. When I told him I never had a serious relationship before he actually asked, "What's wrong with you?!?!?".
Strike four, we were sitting outside by the bonfire at Union Pool. It was slightly chilly yet he was freakishly shivering like a little girl. Gay.
Strike five, he wants to get a huge Alf tattooed on his arm from his shoulder down to his elbow. ALF. From Melmac. The fact that I remember Alf's home planet means I am a total fan of the sarcastic cat-eating alien, but that doesn't mean I want to wake up to him every morning...
Which leads to the final strike. At the end of the night I thought maybe he'd be such a good kisser that it will make up for everything. As we parted ways I went in for the kiss and he pulled back saying there were too many people around. Double gay.
I don't remember anything after that night. I'm not sure if he called, I'm not 100% sure of his name. On my way home from work on Monday I was sitting on the V train looking out the window when I felt someone watching me. I whipped my head around and there he was standing three feet away, staring right at me. I immediately recognized him because of his hair, but I don't know if he recognized me. (I was wearing my glasses and my hair is a bit darker. I'm actually feeling a bit mousy lately, but that's a whole other post.) We both looked away, then he got off the next stop.
I'm still a little surprised I didn't say anything to him. I'm a firm believer that people from your past show up when you need them to, maybe to give you a message or remind you about something from that time in your life. Con-Red didn't rock my world, but he was my first date of 2009. If I hadn't gone up to him at the con, it's quite possible I would have went down a totally different dating path last year. Hell, in some weird way, maybe I should have thanked him for meeting Tat.
So what message did these two guys give me this year? To be strong? Have faith? Keep trying? I'm not sure...
Oooo, maybe it's to trust my instincts again! I didn't doubt for one second Con-Red and I weren't meant to be. I also followed my instincts by not saying hello to him on the subway. The Banana situation was a little fucked, but again, it ended with me realizing I need to trust myself more...
Okay that's gotta be it. Lesson learned! Thanks blasts from the past!
How did they find not one, but two missing links for their mortgage ad? This has to be a joke, right?
And yes, I was looking up how to say Thursday in Spanish. Buenas noches!
Today is the 11th annual Lunar New Year celebration in Chinatown. I went last year and never got around to posting the pictures. I never got around to posting anything in 2009...
I highly recommend going. Enjoy!
I thought this little girl was adorable:
My favorite picture:
I heard this word four times on TV today, thrice (thrice!) in Almost Famous and once in Californication.
Then I discovered it's a movie title as I was going through the Netflix new releases.
I guess I'm really supposed to know what this word means today, huh?
in·cen·di·ar·y [in-sen-dee-er-ee]
-adjective
1. used or adapted for setting property on fire: incendiary bombs.
2. of or pertaining to the criminal setting on fire of property.
3. tending to arouse strife, sedition, etc.; inflammatory: incendiary speeches.
4. tending to inflame the senses: an incendiary extravaganza of music and dance.
–noun
5. a person who deliberately sets fire to buildings or other property, as an arsonist.
6. Military. a shell, bomb, or grenade containing napalm, thermite, or some other substance that burns with an intense heat.
7. a person who stirs up strife, sedition, etc.; an agitator.
Wow. Well from Banana and Grape's point of views I definitely am an incendiary based on the last definition and this week's events.
For the others, um yeah...I'm never trying to cook again.
It's Saturday night. I'm home relaxing, sitting here smelling the rancid toot I just laid while trying to ignore the five inch roll hanging over my sweatpants both of which are due to the plethora of beers I drank this past week.
There's a million things I wanted to post about recently, but at this point I think I'm over it. My last post pretty much sums it up anyways, so there's no need to dive into the disappointing details. I have nothing against bananas (JJ!) it just seemed a fitting fruit choice considering the source of my stress this week has one. In his pants. Penis.
Despite all of the drama of late I learned a few things:
1. It's never cool to toy with someone's emotions. Uncle Ben said "with great power comes great responsibility." As much as I don't want to think of love as a power struggle, at times it can be. If you know someone likes you, it's your responsibility to behave in a way that lets them know where they stand and doesn't give mixed signals. Nothing's worse than thinking one thing and finding out the complete opposite is true. Who likes to feel crazy and/or delusional?? Been there, done that and it ain't fun.
This realization led me to make a really hard decision. I told Tat that we can't be friends right now. We hung out last Friday and it was clear we cannot have a platonic relationship, and I don't just mean physically. We have an emotional bond that I've never had with someone else before, one that could cause a lot of pain if it's mistreated. Even though I'll really miss him, I know it's the right thing to do.
2. I'm not damaged goods. I was telling Banana how I'm sick of being creatively frustrated and that I need to rip the band-aid off and go for it. His response was "Are you saying you're damaged goods?" I thought this was a really odd question to ask based on the conversation, but I realize now this question wasn't about me, it was about him.
My answer was a resounding "No." It was the first time in my life that I knew in my core and in my soul that I am definitely not damaged goods. Sure I've been refurbished a few times, but I don't see that stopping any time soon especially if my definition of mint keeps changing.
3. Listen to my gut. Not my beer gut, my instinct gut. My beer gut sounds like a clogged drain. My instinct gut sounds like the woman I want to be.
4. My friends are the most important people in my life. This week would have been a lot shittier if it wasn't for those who comforted me and for the ones I know who would have if they were here.
5. I'm fine!!! Really, I am. I allowed myself to mourn, cry, and feel down without sinking into a massive depressive episode. My new year's resolution still stands. I will be positive and keep moving forward!!
That being said...thank Shizza this week is over!
If an apple and a banana were talking and the banana said to the apple, "I like hanging out with apples. I hung out with oranges and I didn't enjoy them as much as apples." would it be wrong for the apple to assume:
A. Banana likes apples.
B. Banana does not like oranges as much as apples.
C. Banana will stop hanging out with oranges.
A and B are logical conclusions. C is not. Banana didn't say anything about not hanging out with oranges, it merely said it enjoyed the company of apples more. Apple wrongly assumed the banana would take action against oranges, when no action was mentioned.
Now if banana continued with, "I told grape I don't like oranges either and discussed keeping them out of the fruit bowl. Grape was okay with this as long as I'm happy." would it then be safe to assume:
A. Grape and banana are friends.
B. Banana does not want oranges in the fruit bowl.
C. Grape is okay with not having oranges in the fruit bowl.
D. Grape doesn't want oranges in the fruit bowl either.
Again A and B are good. C and D are not. You might argue C is good, but if banana is a douchebag liar then it is not. And if banana is a douchebag liar, then none of the above is true either and not worth continuing. Deductive reasoning and lies don't mix.
How does this story end? A couple days later banana decides to tell apple that oranges are better. In the meantime apple told prune what banana said and it gets back to grape. Grape is infuriated that apple hung out with banana in the first place and tells apple to stay away from banana. Banana gets away with it all and ends up marrying an orange. Apple is banished from the fruit bowl and hopes someone will make pie soon.
The end.
Phew. Made it through this month. Good riddance!
I must say with all of the ups and downs of late, I'm feeling pretty darn good. I trust myself, I believe in myself, and doggone it, people like me.
February has always been a good month for me, so I'm looking forward to what the next few weeks bring. Hell, I'm looking forward to the whole damn year. I don't know what's on the horizon, but it's something good. Something I've been waiting for...
We shall see!!
I had three Smuttynose IPAs and a cider last night. I had so much fun, but man was I smashed. Barely-remember-the-night-smashed off of four beers. I do remember the music was really loud at the show*, although that's only because my ears are still ringing 24 hours later.
Where the hell did my tolerance go? And who let Ruth Clare out on a Friday night?
"Be damned you pesky alcohol and loud music! I'd rather be watching Wheel!"
I'm going to another show on Wednesday. I'm seriously considering wearing earplugs**. Is that rude?
*Here We Go Magic. I really liked them!
**I typed earmuffs first. Blonde.
Now that I stopped biting my fingernails and cuticles (almost) I seriously cannot stop admiring my natural french manicure. It's totally vain and I totally don't care.
I've always been a bit nail-obsessed to begin with, even when I had bloody sausage man-hands. In fact, that's probably the reason why. I'd look at women's hands on the subway, the bar, wherever and admire the shape of their nailbeds and their non-mutilated cutes. Then I'd look at mine and chew. So gross.
I kicked the habit back in August with only a couple of slip-ups since. The damn things grow so fast now that I actually have to cut them down. Thanks Biotin!
(This might be the most girly and superficial post I've ever written. I'm still typing only so I can feel my nails on the keys... sdjkfhkjsdashvkjiuaysfdahslgslidvuoyuyiwEURY;urweiuyrUIFSHDKLJSHVOUDOPWEYSDLHLKJHSDFHS;JKHFSDK. Hot.)
Now my NEW stove is trying to kill me.
Last night I attempted to cook my first real meal in years: chicken, broccoli, and brown rice. Easy peasy, right?
Halfway through I started feeling lightheaded, the same way I felt back in March when I got carbon monoxide poisoning from my old stove. I thought, "Nah, can't be. This is a new stove. I must be tired."
A few minutes later, I felt worse and thought, "I must have low blood sugar." (I only ate about 500 calories during the day.)
"I must be psyching myself out."
"I must be fighting domestication."
"I must be paranoid."
I must, I must, I must.
Twenty minutes later, I must lie down. Nausea, headache, spins, the works. I freaked out and called my mom. I don't know why I call her during moments like this when she's 70 miles away...
My parents didn't believe it was CO poisoning again. They figured I freaked myself out so bad that I was having a panic attack, which I eventually ended up having. I kept thinking my apartment building was going to blow. This is a ridiculous thought, but anyone who's had a panic attack knows that when an idea gets into your head you can't shake it. It's an awful feeling.
I finally calmed down about an hour later. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Around midnight I was sane enough to mentally walk through everything that happened at the stove. Something stuck out - I realized one burner's flame was more orange than blue and that the burner itself had burn marks on it while the others were clear.
For people who regularly cook or are just fans of fire in general, you probably know what this meant. I didn't so I had to look it up.
Cause: not enough oxygen is getting to the flame
Effect: orange flame, excessive CO production, CO released into kitchen
FUCKING FUCK FUCK. You gotta be kidding me, right??? Unfuckingbelievable. I DID have CO poisoning again. MOTHER FUCKER I AM NEVER COOKING AGAIN.
To fix this I either have to get someone to adjust the valves for a better air/fuel ratio or clean the burners in case something's blocking the openings. I'll end up doing both to be on the safe side, but right now I'm not doing either. I still feel like shit and I'm a bit paranoid, so I'm avoiding my kitchen at all costs for the night.
Stupid fucking stoves!!
I like this song.
Turn out the light
Just say goodnight to yourself
May I remind you
When you find you
Are all alone when you
You've got to be strong
That's when they call you in the night
He's got your picture in his mind
He's got your number on a paper
At his disposal anytime
Is it really true
Could you save yourself
For someone who could love you for you
So many times we just give it away
To someone who
Someone who
You met in a bar
The back of a car
And for a moment
You felt important
But not in your heart
Cuz my self esteem
It's been low
Go ahead and count,
It's been lower than low
I know the feeling
Of it stealing life out from under me
Cuz I want to learn
Can you save yourself
For someone who
Could love you for you
So many times we just give it away
To someone who couldn't even remember your name
Did you save yourself
For someone who loves you for you
And loves me for me
Or give it away
To someone who
Someone who
Can cherish your name
Cuz I want to learn
Did you save yourself
For someone who
Loves you for you
And loves me for me
Give it away
To someone who
Someone who
Cherish your name
Cherish your name
As excited as I was to post and boast about dating Tat on Facebook, I will never change my relationship status again. Or at least not until I'm married. Or not. Maybe.
I'm on Facebook enough to know what my friends are doing and to make comments here and there, but I wouldn't say I care too much about the site. Or so I thought.
Welcome to the new age of dating...Tat and I broke up last Saturday, but decided to break up on Facebook yesterday. We discussed it together both trying to figure out a way to avoid the dreaded, cringe worthy statement of "_____ is now Single" with the little broken heart added for our viewing displeasure.
Last night I sweated it out and am pretty sure I successfully changed my status without it showing up in the News Feed. If I'm wrong and you saw it, I don't want to know just please don't make a comment. The "Oh no! What happened??!?!?"s will upset me to no end.
The worst part about it is in Edit Profile, under "In a relationship with Tat BBQ" it said "Cancel Relationship."
Cancel? CANCEL?!?!?! You assholes! Nobody wants to CANCEL a relationship, at least not one that didn't involve adultery or battery or any other -ery. Why can't Facebook be a little more sympathetic??
"I'm sorry to present this option in your time of grief and/or confusion, but would you like to discreetly remove this name from your relationship status?"
Dicks. Facebook loses.
Not even a month in and 2010 is already an eventful year. The 23 day rundown:
The Jets are in the playoffs!! Holy crap! The year kicked off with Spags and I attending the 18 degree Sunday night football game against the Bengals. It was so much fun and sooooo friggin cold. I had on two pairs of socks, pants, and gloves, two scarves and hats, and at least five shirts/fleeces all under my big down winter coat. Check out the bundlage:
The Jets play the Colts in the AFC Championship tomorrow. Spags invited me to go out to Indy for the game!! How fucking cool would that have been? Unfortunately I am still paying off everything I did in my twenties, so my thirties are going to be local for a while. I'm sure it will be a blast whether they win or not!!
A couple days after the Cinci game I volunteered at an organization that donates art material to schools. As I was leaving I received a call from my landlord who said 3A complained about a leak that may be coming from my apartment (4A) and to call her back as soon as I get home.
When I got to my door, I noticed the top lock keyhole was crooked. Very odd. I walked in, flipped on the light in my bathroom and found it to be completely flooded. The worst part was all of the products in my cabinet were on the floor and someone, yes SOMEONE, had taken my bath mat and shoved it under the sink to try and sop up the water.
I flipped. My landlord and super do not have keys, so it was obvious someone broke in. I ran around my apartment to see if anything was missing and thankfully everything was okay. While it was clear they got in solely to fix the sink, it really upset me. It shouldn't have been that easy, so I made my landlord change the locks. I still to this day don't know who broke in.
Oh and get this, 4B had a clog in their sink earlier that day. The plumber came to snake it and somehow managed to miss the main pipe and poked a hole through mine. The 4B clog was gone, only because all of the water was pouring out into my bathroom. Joy! Moving on...
I was offered a new position at work. The role would have gotten me away from Tennis, but it was a lateral move. I would have lost all of my current projects and have to start over with someone new, so I declined. I'm proud in what I've accomplished to date and refuse to let my idiot boss ruin it. Nun is impressed with me and I trust he'll do what he can to make my situation better. We're operationally like minded; he enjoys taking on new projects and fixing things as much as I do. I've learned this is a trait few people have, so I'm riding it out a bit to see where this goes.
There are other traits that I value in myself and others. Honesty, maturity, patience, consideration, and good old fashioned niceness. I recently lost a few friends because they did not meet my expectations in these areas. My past is filled with fleeting friendships so over time I've accepted that these things happen, but I never thought they would in my thirties. It's not that there's an age limit on disappointment and drama, I just didn't expect to be hurt by people I truly cared about now.
The good news is this experience helped me redefine what "friend" means to me as well as helped me decide what kind of friend I want to be. The expectations I put on others are now the expectations I put on myself. If you're reading this, you are someone who means the world to me. In the wise words of the Golden Girls, I thank you for being my friend. I promise to be a better one.
Phew! That was a hard one to write, but not the hardest to go through. I not only broke up with a few friends, I also broke up with Tat last week.
I'm not ready to share the details. I don't know if I ever will on here. All I can write is that I am so incredibly sorry it didn't work out. Tat is one of the most genuine, kind, and loving people I have ever met. I'm glad I took a chance on love and let him into my heart. I'm so honored and flattered he let me in, too.
(I know the breakup is coming off as a footnote to everything else, but believe me it's not. It was the hardest decision I made in a long time. I don't think it's appropriate to write much more when everything is still raw for the both of us.)
So there ya have it. My 2010 to date. My new year's resolution is to be positive and keep moving forward, so despite the rough moments, I am hopeful. I think this year will be filled with good things for us all. Scratch that...I KNOW it will. Smiles.
Suck it monkeys, I'm on holiday!
Yesterday was my last day at work this week. I'm working three days next week, but that's okay because Tennis is out of the office. Eleven days without seeing him! Thank fucking Shizza!!
The day after I wrote my last post Tennis came in and apologized for everything. He said he didn't mean it, that I do a great job and he would hate for me to leave. (Manic much?) About an hour later he came back into my office with Nun and apologized again saying he's under a lot of stress and he shouldn't have taken it out on me. I said thank you, but what I really wanted to say was fuck you. Fuck you for making me doubt my abilities and contributions. And fuck me for letting him.
The rest of the day was spent running around the building drinking and eating for our company holiday party. It was a really good time (I stayed far away from my bosses), although it was a very strange way to end a shitty week (I was out on Friday).
So where does all this leave me? No where really. I don't want to think about it yet. I want to enjoy the holidays and come back to reality in January. Rippie came in early this morning and has been passed out on my living room floor the last six hours. I have a sofa bed, so I'm not sure why he's down there but I must say it's pretty comfortable. I'm a big floor sitter and layer. Layerer? Whatevs.
I have another visitor as well. He'd like to guest write. Take it away Predator!
Anytime.
What the hell are YOU?
A friend of mine joked the other day that I don't write anymore now that I have a boyfriend. It's true that there are some things I'd like to share about my relationship and don't, mainly because I'd hate to fuck anything up with him. Tat reads Thighs now (hiya!) and while he's cool with my past (!!) he may not be cool with me divulging personal things about us online. I'm okay with this because he's hot.
A bigger reason as to why I haven't been writing is work. I'm embarrassed to admit that once again I am fighting with my boss. Tennis is the worst manager I've ever had. This is saying a lot considering how Soaps treated me toward the end of my Company stint.
My boss took a mental leave of absence after his boss was fired. Tennis had no one to mimic anymore and completely lost his identity. He didn't know his ass from his elbow, so he gave up trying to figure out which is which. (I heard he had his arm bent over the toilet seat waiting to take a shit for hours.) He also gave up on me and Breen, basically giving us nothing to do all summer.
Since the job I was hired for is pretty easy, I decided to take on some special projects. At the beginning of this year I created project plans for two new inventory applications that would strengthen the integrity of our department and help automate our reporting. Unfortunately they got cancelled because most of the IT resources were assigned to Oracle, so I jumped on that project team to have something to do.
A few weeks later a HUGE warehouse project was approved that heavily involved all of Supply Chain. Tennis and I had run the initial analyses on it, so naturally we were both brought on to give our input. Problem is Tennis doesn't give much input on anything, whereas I have an opinion about EVERYTHING. The head of the division would ask us questions and Tennis would say, "Thighs what do you think?" so often that after a while people stopped asking him. I eventually became the project lead for the NY Office while he took a backseat to the whole thing.
I'd like to say I was okay with this, but I wasn't. I'm still yearning to have a boss that will lead, teach, inspire, and empower me. It drives me crazy to know I can run circles around Tennis. Just once I would love to have a boss that is a mentor, that will help me succeed. I think Red was that boss, but I wasn't mature enough to understand it at the time. Hell, I wasn't sane enough either.
The summer continued with me doing my projects and Tennis drinking coffee. I'd get frustrated and bored, but what else is new. Then SURPRISE! Tennis got a new boss the end of August and everything changed.
I'm sort of getting bored with this post now, so I guess I'll go into the quick hits. It's a shame really because this is the juicy stuff.
Sept WK1: New boss, who I'll call Nun asks me to tell him everything I do. I tell him. He immediately realizes that Tennis doesn't manage me well, considering I'm off doing my own thing.
Sept WK2: Nun confronts Tennis about this, Tennis gets pissy with me, I get pissy right back (mature!). At the same time I had to do a lot of testing for Oracle so I didn't send out a report two weeks in a row. It was completely my fault and totally the wrong time to fuck up because Tennis was looking for some ammunition.
Sept WK3: Tennis and I barely acknowledge each other. Neither of us tries to diffuse the situation. I have visions of him shoving his own head in his ass, ala this guy.
I call out sick on the wrong day. Finance tells Head (of the division) I owe them something in regards to Oracle. He flips out (like really flips out, I work with a bunch of rageaholics...Mom?), calls Nun and Tennis, flips out on them, and then everyone flips out on each other. Meanwhile I'm playing mini-golf with Tat in Staten Island.
The next day I get to work, see my emails and tell Head I don't owe Finance anything, they made a mistake. Finance apologizes for the mix-up. Tennis comes storming into my office saying, "You don't do any work here! You've been babied this whole time!" over and over again. I say, "Where is this coming from? How have I been babied?!?" He says, "You know how you've been babied." (This is how every conversation is with Tennis. He never answers any fucking questions, he just responds with ridiculous one liners.) This continues for a good twenty minutes until I say, "I want a meeting with Head, Nun, and HR right now. If you're going to sit here and tell me I haven't done any work for the past year and a half then I want everyone to hear it."
I guess he figured I was going to get my ass handed to me, but it was quite the opposite. Head got so pissed at Tennis for what he said and countered all of it with "You do great work, you're very smart, and we're very happy to have you here." He did say that he doesn't think I'm challenged enough and that he gets the feeling I'm a third baseman playing second. I said absolutely, if there's any way I could become a Supply Chain business analyst or project manager (I'm currently an inventory analyst), I'd love to transfer. Fuck Tennis and his stupidity. Head also said he'd like me to work on my demeanor, everyone knows how I feel the minute I feel something. Yes, that's right, I'm still a mood ring...
Sept WK4 - this week:
Basically I kept my head down and my mouth shut for the most part. This is hard for me to do, but I tried. I really did. The good news is my projects are chugging along and I never forgot to send out that fucking report.
The bad news is Tennis got worse. He confuses people, stutters over his words, still avoids making decisions, or answering questions. We got into it a couple of times. Nun got involved once. I never bash Tennis outright because I don't want to be insubordinate (again), so I always phrase it as "What am I doing wrong?" or "What can I do to fix the situation?". Tennis doesn't have any solutions, nor does he have any examples of me fucking up. It's ridiculous, but there's nothing I can do about it. Well except leave, which brings me to...
This week:
I'm pretty emotional this week, so I let his shit get to me. Today he started in with me and we got into a fight again. He said if I worked as much as I complained, then I'd really be doing stuff. I was like are you fucking kidding me? What am I not doing?? No answer. He never has an answer. Then he said you always complain. I said you asked me what was wrong and what are the issues. Telling you what the issues are is not a complaint, it's a fucking issue. (By the way, I didn't curse at all.) He kept going for a few minutes when I finally said enough. He said well if you don't like it here then you should just quit. I said until I do I want all of our communication to be in writing, so that it can be forwarded to Nun and HR.
For those of you who've worked with me you know a few things about Office Thighs: I'm passionate, I work smart, I have issues with frustration and mood swings, and I don't deal well with idiots. My boss is an idiot. For him to say I don't do anything is such fucking bullshit. To say I'm a complainer, I'm not sure if that's true. I solve problems and if something's a problem it's usually because someone (not always me) complained about it.
Here's the embarrassing part. I cried. When he left my office I cried for about an hour. I couldn't get up, I couldn't move. There was other shit going on this week outside of work that really bothered me too and I guess the tears came out for both reasons. I called Nun. He came to my office and I told him everything. I'm not sure how I feel about him either, but the one thing I can say is he's definitely not an idiot. So that's good.
Nun told me I'm doing a great job and that he's heard from quite a few people that I've had a positive impact on Minnow. He also said he's sick of Tennis and I fighting, that the two of us need to figure it out like adults. I agreed, but I also said that I cannot sit here and be told that I don't do any work anymore when quite frankly I've been dealing with a lot of shit that Tennis should be handling. He said he'll talk to him about it. We shall see.
So there ya have it. The real reason I haven't written is because I'm fucking sick of hearing myself think, talk, and type about my work problems. I hate that I'm once again coming up to the two year mark at a new company and I'm ready to walk. I'm tired of moving jobs, I'm tired of fighting, and I'm really fucking tired of having a boss.
I'm also really scared I'm going to have these same problems at my next gig. I don't think I can handle it, which is why I haven't started looking yet.
Now I'm totally embarrassed. I'd rather tell the world how I picked my nose and wiped it on the carpet then write about this. (I did that the other day. I'm not proud.)
In a related story (not booger related), I've been playing the lottery more in the past three weeks than I have my whole life. I've won about $20 so far. Come on Mega Millions!!
I was on the phone with my mom just now and she said, "Oh by the way, you bought an Ethiopian family a goat." I replied, "That's great news, mom." and went on to tell her how I'm feeling now that I'm on a higher dosage of Synthroid. (Pretty good!)
A few minutes later she said, "Yeah Huey, Duey, and Louie (my three male teenage cousins) aren't going to be happy that they aren't getting the $75 I usually send them."
Me: "Why, did you buy them something instead?"
Mom: "I bought them goats."
Me: "Wait what??"
Mom: "I bought all of you goats. Well, I bought goats in your name to give to starving people in Ethiopia. It was $30 a goat, so I'll send them $45 and give them a heads up that they'll be getting thank you letters from the families they helped."
Me: "MOM! You can't do that! You don't tell someone you're giving to charity instead of giving them a gift!"
Mom: "Hey $45 is still a lot of money!"
Me: "I know it is, but that's such bullshit! You're like George Costanza! What is this The Goat Fund???"
Mom: "I wanted to give to charity, so I'm giving to charity!!"
Me: "Then give to charity, but don't tell someone else they have to! 'I got a goat for Christmas'. That's horrible!"
Mom: "What is it that you always say when you don't want to talk about something anymore?"
Me: "A fucking goat?? Seriously??"
Mom: "Oh I know what it is, 'I'm done talking about this!'"
Me: "Fine. We're done."
END SCENE
