I get by...

It takes some uncertainty and general angst for me to reach out to my friends for help and advice. If I ever ever thought that there was no one who would drop everything to be there for me, I couldn't have been more wrong.

Today, is many ways, has reinforced what amazing friends I have. For instance, I was in my car, ready to turn around, go home and drug myself into oblivion with ice cream and milano cookies, but I called Aimee and she reminded me what a fucking great person I am. And I said "I know, I know" through my blubbering and she says "Well, I know you know but you really have to believe it."

This is a problem I often have. I forget to believe in myself and my ability to get through just about anything. If I didn't have Aimee to remind me, who knows where I would be. A cardboard box comes to mind. Oh how horrible! I mean I would certainly make it nice inside, but still.

Thanks to Suzie and Lisa L. too for reminding how strong I am. I forget sometimes.

I know that blogging isn't supposed to be "hard" but I find the different little details of it a little mind numbing. Please see my newest attempt at really "getting into this" in my links portion to the right. Some noteable blogs/LJ's are in there. Visit them or not...do what you want, I really don't care.

After an emotionally harrowing weekend (Oh, I know...aren't they all??), I'm back in the office and bored out of my mind. In an attempt to cheer myself up (aka, lift myself out of my mild but manageable depression...for various reasons) as well as squelch my boredom, I've decided to post here about one of my favorite topics...pop culture. Today, it will be in the form of THE OSCARS, which I watched ad nauseam last night.

Pre-show: Sunday, February 27th, 6pm - 8:30pm
I secretly (eh...maybe it's not such a secret) wanted to watch Joan and Melissa Rivers on the red carpet BUT for those of you not in the know, E! fired them and they were doing their thang on some other channel which I never figured out because I was being severely lazy (go figure). Instead, I flipped between Kathy Griffiths and Star Jones on E! and some idiots on the Style Network AND the lame ass coverage that ABC was doing via local news personalities. Lest I forget the Barbara Walters "pre-Oscar" special of which only ONE of the three guests had anything to do with the actual Oscars. Apparently she couldn't get anyone relevant this year besides Jamie Foxx (bless his heart!). She interviewed Will Ferrel, whom I love, and kept telling him how weird he was. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Have you looked in the mirror lately, Barbara? She also talked to Teri Hatcher for what seemed like the majority of the show about how she hasn't had sex in years and yada yada yada. Listen, I think it's great that Teri Hatcher is working again but I am NOT going to feel sorry for someone who's 40 and has that body. I'm 24 and I couldn't have that body even if I ate only lettuce and was constantly doing tummy crunches and thigh lunges. Please. No mercy for you, Teri. No.

I probably could have done without Star Jones and kept wishing that Kathy was the one down there with the bling (why? not sure) microphone. Yes, Kathy has played out her B status more than any of us (including her, I'm sure) care to admit but it would have been better than the ass kissing that was endured by the stars talking to Star. I liked her hair, though. It looked pretty.

The Style Network had this huge room of people all on various shows (I'm assuming) from their own network and they were all just bitching about how big the gift bags for presenters were and slamming some of the stars for their outfits. Now, I'll criticize a stranger just as much as the next bitchy 20-something, but NOT on cable television and not looking like I just rolled out of bed, put on black mascara and thought it fit to call myself an expert. What are these people thinking? They actually had me disagreeing with them out of pure spite, even though I actually, deep down, thought Laura Linney did, in fact, look like Celine Dion if she were a drag queen and wearing a dress that looked like it was sewn together by my 6 year old niece after the dog tried to eat it. I'm just saying.

THE OSCARS: 8:30pm - 11:30pm-ish
The show itself didn't really pick up until about 11:15. Let's be honest...Chris Rock can't be funny to save his life unless he's swearing or talking inappropriately about black people, white people or any other people. He had some good one-liners, but they really did fall on deaf ears as, apparently, very few attendees had any sort of sense of humor (Read: Sean Penn...God, you are a miserable fuck, aren't you??)

At any rate, if the show had just been the pre-show plus the last 10 minutes or so of the actual ceremony, that would have been enough for me. They changed the format around a bit, which is always refreshing, but it was still three plus hours of people richer than I will ever be thanking other people who are richer than I will ever be.

But I loved it...every single, boring, fashion emergency second of it.

I feel better, which is all that matters because it is, truth be told, all about me.

That sound you make when you put your finger to your lips, move it up and down and hum

Yeah.

There's work to be done here at the ole office. But I don't want to do it. I don't want to make that inevitable phone call to follow up on whatever. I don't want to file anything. I don't want to get up out of my chair to walk to the fax machine. I'm just all set.

I want to write about the dream I had last night. Per usual, I don't remember much of it but only the important parts matter. Maybe I'll make some other stuff up to make it interesting. You'll never know and you'd rather read to be entertained anyway. Don't lie.

So I'm in my family's vacation home on Cape Cod, but it doesn't look like the actual house. Everything is larger, more colorful (in a good way) and there are people milling around that I feel like I should recognize but don't. In other words, just like a family function for my father's side when I'm actually awake. Anyway...apparently there is a wedding about to take place and my date happens to be my ex boyfriend (if you can call him that) from 8th grade who I once pantzed in his pool (hahahhaha...that's still awesome). My current boyfriend in awake life was supposed to be my date (I think) but instead I am going with this other guy, who still looks like he did in 8th grade and is also sleeping in the same bed with me.

Then I get a package...well, more like a big envelope with stickers and pictures all over it. It's from my current boyfriend. Inside, there are pictures of him when he was little, from high school and other various random things. But there are also pictures of me from when I was growing up. Then there is this long note from him about how he wants me to go with him to all of these weddings and family functions that he needs a date for and will I?

Then I start crying (why? not sure) and 8th grade boy tries to comfort me. I think I was wearing some hideous bridesmaid dress, but I might be getting it confused with the curtains. I end up taking it off and changing into an even uglier dress, saying my goodbyes to 8th grade, getting on an horse (uhm) and asking a cab driver (on the Cape?) for directions to New Jersey (god...why??).

Super fucking weird.

The Idol Transformation and Hoodwinked

While I sit here, I recall my actions of last night which aren't all that worthy of writing about here...oh, and I fume about my roommates, who, both approaching 30, are the two largest losers in the entire world. If I didn't hate them so much, I would pity them.

In other news, the Idol "elimination show" was last night. I'm not surprised by the results at all. I think I kind of predicted them. All of the whining about "people already having their favorites" and "not getting enough face time" was pretty crappy. You got kicked off because you just aren't good enough so why don't you swallow your pride and leave with your chin up. It's the least you can do for America.

I don't have too much else to say about it, except that they've turned Scott Savol into some kind of ghetto superstar. He looks like he's about to jump in his Benz and go to P. Diddy's after party. And Mikala just looks weird like she's already the action figure of herself. Yes, I know I'm thinking about it too much, but I can't half ass this kind of thing. I'm in and committed or I'm out.

Which brings me to my next topic...My dear friend, Jen who is home sick today. In an attempt to cure whatever ails her, I've decided to recap an amusing story from our college days. It might be true, it might be false. I will say it's based on a true story. Does Jen even exist?? YOU'LL NEVER KNOW.

Jen and I ran with the same group of people for the first couple weeks of college, but did not really become friends until senior year. I thought she didn't like me for whatever reason, probably because I was super insecure and thought everyone hated me because I was wearing the wrong shoes or something. Anyway, Jen and I ended up bonding during "Senior Week" over a few bottles of Stoli Raz, copius amounts of fried food and general angst about our futures. Well, one night during that memorable week, things got a little out of hand. Jen and I were hangin out, smokin cigs down in front of Camp Co when her ex boyfriend, whom she recently broke up with (small penis) came strutting along. WELL, due to the Stoli Raz (shots), Jen was extremely intoxicated and volatile, as was I. Let's be honest folks...we were hoodlums, loners, drop outs, druggies...a scuffle ensued and the Ex ended up with a broken nose and a badly bruised ego Did we beat him up? Maybe. Did we pay some else to do it? Perhaps. But he learned never to fuck with Jen again...and boy was he surprised.

Where's the fork? I'm done.

I don't know why I let this place get me all worked up. Maybe it's the lack of anything better to think about or maybe it's just because I spend so much time here. At any rate, I've peaked this afternoon.

The Doll (see previous post as Employee Profile entry) has just sent us the following email:

I'm going to pass out to you now, a proposed survey for you to review and comment on.

My intention is to have AEs present it to a selected group of HR clients. I envision it being done in a scheduled phone call, perhaps with them getting a copy ahead of time or at the beginning to make it easier. But I think it's important for you to be talking with them as they - or you - fill it out.

My purpose is to scope out their attitudesabout what we do, and opportunities for what we could do for them. It is very focused on those 2 subjects.

PLease read and absorb and then I'd like your feedback.

The list of potentials to receive it is below. Give me your feedback on those too.

Thanks, XXX.

Even though he was giving everyone the same thing, he put them face down on our desks. I felt like I was in 8th grade and getting a test back. While he was passing them out, he was whistling and scatting which are two habits I find particulary annoying. It's like he gets joy out of torturing us and making us do meaningless things.

Now, we did this whole song and dance about a year ago and went round and round and round about how we're basically asking our clients to do us a favor and then do nothing with the information, just like we do nothing with everything else we get.

There is no purpose.

I've lost my will. I'm playing Solitaire for the next 40 minutes.

Addictions: Part 2 in a multi-part series

So, I think I'm coping fairly well with the break-up. It was about a year and a half and we have a long, happy history together, but I guess I need to move on. Dr. Isaacs, why don't you love me anymore?

I'm almost over it. What I'm not over is how my sister is being an idiot. Listen, I love her to death but she has no idea how to just relax and let herself heal from her operation. I try to be kind but if she needs to go to the ER again, I'm completely losing patience. And yes, I'm covering my worry and concern with bitchiness. It's what I do.

Now, onto the real news: Tonight's Idol (duh)

I have to say, the ladies did a much better job than the gentleman. I was more impressed and took more notes (the two are directly correlated).

Here we go:

1. Vonzel. Let's just all admit it...having to go first is a total curse. It never works out in your favor. She looked really cute and I have a fondness for her mail carrier alter ego in some strange way.

2. Amanda. She's cute I guess (if you like flat-chested fakes) but I'm all set. Simon made this AWFUL comment about how he wants to be her microphone in his next life. EW. She's not even that hot!!! I was...appalled. But I also loved it, of course.

3. Janay. Bad dress, bad song...that's all.

4. Carrie. Oh Carrie, your dress was so cute and you are just THE CUTEST. This girl can sing, too. Mad props. I *may* have voted for her.

5. Sarah...I honestly don't remember this one. I even took notes...all I have written down is white hoop earrings. That should be enough.

6. Melinda. Eh. She had some weird dance moves for a ballad, sort of like low squats. But not cool, like Fantasia would do.

7. Nadia. First of all, this girl has a SWEET fro, which I know I've mentioned before. Second of all, she has the tightest little bod that makes me want to KILL her and steal her body parts and trade them for mine. She's friggin adorable though, despite my obvious jealousy.

8. Celina. Belly shirt. Do you have to remind the rest of us that we DON'T have a four pack?

9. Mikala. We meet again. My opinion has changed in an instant. Tonight she tried to channel Taylor Dane and it looked like Glamour Shots did her make up. The best part of her performace though, was a cut to Constantine who was sitting and staring into space when he was *supposed* to be clapping for her. HHAHAHAHAH.

10. Lindsay. She was wearing a bra outside her shirt. I couldn't listen to her sing because my eyes were bleeding and it was running into my ears.

11. Jessica. I like her. She seems like a firecracker and she sang one of my favorite guilty pleasure power ballads. She's cute.

12. Aloha. Oh I'll work it out with you, Aloha! DAMN, this girl is sexy AND she can move AND she can actually sing. I think we may have the Jennifer Hudson of this season....if we're comparing.

I got to vote for my two favorites. Then, when I tried to get through again later, my call could not be connected. I had to make sure I was dialing the right number.

Now I'm just confused.

Addictions

I got a voice mail from my therapist of over a year a half this morning. She said she has an "illness" and cannot continue her practice. That's it...I have to find someone new. She left no referrals, no further information. I feel robbed but strangely, not very surprised. She seemed a little off lately, kind of off kilter. She's helped me so much since I've been seeing her that I should be panicking, but I'm not. I'm still trying to figure out if this is good or bad.

In other news, the first round of live performances was on The Idol last night.

Because I'm completely, shamelessly and hopelessly hooked and I just love the overexposure (on three nights this week!), I took some notes:

Monday, February 21st, 8pm - 9pm, The 12 "boys" (thanks Seacrest) perform in front of a live studio audience for the first time:

1. Nikko. I don't want to be your part-time lover, especially with that weird red shirt/black tie/black hat tilted to one side combo. Decent performance but...gave me the feeling that something was trying to crawl inside my vag.

2. Scott "I look like an ax murderer" Savol. Decent performance and a pretty nice striped shirt but I wasn't moved.

3. Anthony. Oh Anthony...you are not Clay Aiken. Can you accept that and move on? I'm waiting for my cousin to write like this "re-Clay" in her LJ. I can't wait. He has an awesome voice but picked such a shitty song. Maybe you'll make it to next week and get another chance, Anthony. Otherwise, I'm really not heartbroken.

4. Bo Bice. Oh Bo. You have beautiful long, flowing hair and I like how you rock out BUT you and I both know that you're not gonna be the next American Idol. Sad, but true.

5. Travis Tucker. First of all...pleated pants, Travis?? NO. You should bitch slap the stylist that told you those were a good choice. You looked like a preacher on his day off. Just...no.

6. Constantine. See #4 AND...A Seal Song? Are you kidding? And what's with your scarf, Constantine? Did you steal that from Kelly for good luck?

7. David Brown. Oh god. I actually liked his voice but I was completely distracted by his poor choice of clothing. His shirt and pants were about three sizes too big for him. He looked like a former fat man who got his stomach stapled and didn't have time to shop for new clothes. Ew.

8. Jared Yates. Jared...what are you wearing? Is that a velvet shirt? And the chain wallet? This is not a scene from Swingers, my friend. You cannot, under any circumstance, rock a chain wallet. OH...and you're not cute.

9. Anwar. Oh Anwar...it took balls to wear that yellow leather jacket and although I don't agree with it, you rocked it and you rocked it hard. I adore you, although I didn't vote for you. Maybe if you continue to wow me...and Mario gets booted...and the sky starts to fall.

**At this point in the show, Seacrest made a poignant comment about overexposure. I love when The Idol makes fun of itself. It makes the experience of watching it so much sweeter.

10. Judd. I didn't make any notes on him, which means that he wasn't memorable and sucks.

11. Joseph. He sang a Michael Bolton song. Oh my goodness...

12. Mario. I love Mario. I adore him...I even voted for him. I had to keep calling because the line was busy for the first half hour after the show. I am completely and totally putting it out there that he will win. I'm just...he's so yummy!

Now that I have shown how I am still 16, I'm going to continue my day.

Shame.

You know what...

I'm about ready to just say FUCK IT.

I was in the president's office today and I had a fantasy about reaching across his desk and throttling him. It was unsettling and scary, although some serious black comedy now that I look back on it. Anyway, he was blabbering some stupid shit about the "direction" that the company was going in and how I was going to have to "alter my perception of my position." I ask him how, in what way and he says...and this is RICH..."The specifics haven't been worked out yet, but you'll be one of the first to know." Great. Thanks Doll. I feel so confident in the future of this company and the future of my job.

I'm trying...I'm trying REALLY hard not to wallow here.

In other news...there needs to be much more lesbo action on the OC. This whole open mouth with no tongue thing is crap. BRING IT or just forget about it. And what's with Seth looking all cracked out? I know what someone looks like when they're tired or had their heart broken and it's just not hat bad. I thought I was pathetic. Point Pleasant happens to be my new favorite shitty show to watch. It's so unapoligetically confusing, fragmented and cheesy that I'm just eating it up...eating it up like those new TollHouse cookie candie bars. Have you tried those? Oh my god...I'm not kidding when I say I had a small orgasm. I swear to GAWD.

THE Idol

I love American Idol. I love how trashy and exploitative and awful it is. I love the mini bios (a ride along in the postal truck?!?!?! YES!!!) and I LOVE LOVE LOVE the judge trauma this season. I just eat all of it up against my better judgment.

Last night, we got down to the "final" 24. Next week, The Idol is on three nights in a row. Now, considering this is a huge block of my time and a large portion of my weekday evenings, I've decided that I'm going to commit to this season. I haven't really committed to the last three. I lost interest during season one because I knew there was no way in hell that Fro Boy was going to win and, if he did, I was in no way going to be on board with that. I lost interest during the second season because I knew Rueben would win even though he was so good that it was starting to be boring. And then last season, after Jennifer Hudson got booted, I lost faith in the American public's ability to have good taste. But then again, the American public doesn't have good taste. Just look at the way the majority of people leave their homes in the morning (some days, myself included).

At any rate, I already have a couple of favorites. There is Fez 2, who lookes EXACTLY like Wilbur whatever his name is from That 70s Show for the mens (I think he's freakin ADORABLE) and then for the ladies, I'm on the fence, but I'm pretty sure it's the 17 year old cheerleader (Mikala something or other) who initially I thought would annoy me but I think the opposite is happening. Who knows. Once they do their thing next week, I'm sure my opinions will entirely change. The two rocker guys I'm not sure about but I think I love them and then there is that weird guy named Scott who is totally antisocial but I think I secretly want to win it all. I've also always been in love with the girl who has the HUGE fro. It takes mad guts to rock that 'do.

So those are my pics. I'm drooling in anticipation of next week. And maybe I'll even vote this year. Maybe.

Revisiting

So I reread my posts from Monday and realized what a miserable asshole I sounded like. No more of that...at least not for a few days.

Today I'm back at work. Yesterday was a "day off" but since it didn't include me lying around and not showering, it didn't really count. My sister is doing just fine although it was strange to see her so incapacitated. It was even more strange to by reminded of the helplessness that my sister's family exhibits when she's not being Super Mom. I'm not sure what disturbed me more but I was disturbed.

So, I talk to the boyfriend about it...who does not understand why I am sad or upset if my sister is going to be just fine. To be honest boyfriend, I don't understand it either. We then had a rather pointless, emotionally charged conversation which I still can't figure out. I think we feed off of each other's circular dialogue and martyr-like vulnerabilities. But I do like him quite a bit...despite it all. Sometimes I think we each just want to pick a fight to forget about what's really bothering us. And I think we both obliged last night. He has some money stress and I have some sisterlifejobmoneyapartment things going on. hehehe

I don't think he reads too often anymore...but if you are reading dear...thanks for being you, even if you do drive me completely and utterly insane at times.

Doomed

My toxicity is increasing by the minute. It's really bad today. I mean...I could snap at any minute.

It's not work especially or the fact that my life, at present, is less than satisfying. I don't know what it is, but I really want to blame my period and a rush of estrogen and progesterone so powerful that the Devil himself would not be able to stop the rage.

All I know if that I have to get up real ass early tomorrow and sit around a hospital all day. I love my sister. I hope nothing is wrong. But I'm having a selfish attack and I don't want to go.

I also don't want anyone to touch or talk to me. Well, actually....if everyone could stay a good 10 feet away, that might help.

Black Monday

I feel toxic today, like if I open my mouth, hot lava and scathing sarcasm will be the only things flowing. I'm disturbed and I can't snap myself out of it.

The occasional email from my cousin is helping. Our personalities are eerily similar if not only because we are both the second (and last) children in a severely dysfunctional family. Actually, it's not any more dysfunctional than average, but I suppose but we like to talk about it ALOT more.

Check her out...
http://www.livejournal.com/users/smartygirl/

She's an aspiring writer. So if you're like a publisher or whatever, you should like totally email her. Like...yea. I read a copy of her book a while back and it was amazing...it's only a matter of time before she's rich and famous and then I can pretend we were super close. hahahhah

In other news....It's Valentine's Day. Because I was single for oh so many years and never able to see the current boyfriend ON the actual day, I've never had a fondness for the holiday (or any other holiday for that matter). Now that I am once AGAIN in a long distance relationship, I will ONCE AGAIN, not see my current squeeze on the actual day.

HOWEVER...despite my current insatiable toxic mood, I will say that I had a great weekend (I even got presents!), albeit ending in a semi-meltdown last night. I didn't cry, per usual, but I did bite the boy's head off (later calling to apologize) and have an attack of "I do so much for other people and I just want some time to myself."

It's my own god damn fault. I might have to leave work early. Tomorrow finds me in a hospital all day waiting for my sister to wake up so I can drive her home. I hope I have it in me. I really want to be there for her and now I'm feeling some serious guilt about not being all that much into it.

Did I mention how hard it is being me?

The Sea of Mediocrity is Drowning Me

I decided to go home for lunch today, partly because I just needed to get out of here and partly because I had to finish packing for the weekend.

Well, the mail happened to have arrive...with a letter...from said newspaper company that I visited on Tuesday.

I rushed to open it, which was challenging because I was wearing gloves. It's cold out!

For those of you who ever received a response from a college you have applied to, there was always this belief that if the envelope was really thick, that means that all the crap you needed to fill out was in there and you were in. If you got a very skinny envelope with just one piece of paper, that meant it was a no go. You were once again rejected.

Well, today's mail only had one piece of paper in it. I'll let you do the math.

I already cut my hair, and I'm running out of drastic things to do to make myself feel better when faced with disappointment. So, for lack of anything better to do, I think I'll change my blog look.

yay.

Uh-OH

I have an impending feeling of doom. Maybe it's because at certain moments throughout the day, I have deep regrets about chopping my hair. Or maybe it's because my manager knows I'm looking for another job.

Or maybe it's because I feel like I am forever stuck in a lame-ass job and shit hole apartment. Some sort of mediocre purgatory where I am forever made to cope with the so-so.

oh god.

I'm not getting a good vibe at all about this job I interviewed for on Tuesday. I've gotten some curt emails from the VP over there and I feel like I'm bothering her. I'm sure I'm being insecure, but usually my instincts are right about this sort of thing.

Crap...

Not even the phat check I got from my Dad in the mail yesterday (Surprise!) is making me feel better. There are just so many different debts I could spend it on.

Yes Virginia, there are good jobs out there

Work has been relatively busy (huge shocker) and I haven't had too much time to write lengthy, award-worthy posts. I may even lose my steam today. Brace yourself.

I had another interview yesterday. It's a promotion position for a newspaper group and it would be a great opportunity to actually accomplish day to day tasks that mean...something. I think it went well but we know what happened last time when I thought it went well. They are also moving their office closer to where I would like to relocate, so this would all work out great. I sent her some samples of things that I've worked on which I hope will at least mildly impress her. We'll see. It's a small department and one of my potential co-workers was quite the firecracker. I should know soon.

In other news, I have chopped all of my hair off again. It looks fabulous, of course. I was "growing it out" for the past 6 months or so and it just didn't do much for me. So, I went and got the whole thing done...cut, color and $150 later, I'm diggin it. Yes, I said $150. Which brings me to my next topic...

I may also have made a small error on my state tax return which I know is no big deal AT ALL but of course I'm paranoyed about it now. They'll come after me in like 10 years and mutter something about compound interest and how I owe them $10,000 for back taxes. Awesome. I'm sure that will yield all kinds of nightmares. I know my federal taxes aren't fraudulent. Er...so far. I deserve it all back, god dammit! I don't ask the government for anything...NOTHING. What do they take so much away? WHY DO THEY HATE ME?

Phew. I feel better.

I am diseased

So the thing on my lip is back. I'm pretty sure it's a pimple...and I can't stop squeezing it and picking at it. It's so disgusting.

Now, as you all know, this coming weekend is unofficial "Valentine's" weekend. And I totally made that up. Seeing as I only see The Boyfriend on weekends, I have until Friday when we go out for a "special" dinner for V-Day (how ironic) for it to clear up. When I got it the first time, I was appalled that he wouldn't kiss me, or just kiss my bottom lip. Now I understand because I hardly want to touch it.

What did I do to deserve this.

I don't know what to do. It's like everything they make to put on terrible, red, hideous, scabbing imperfections just makes them look worse. I need to invent something new that actually helps. Cutting eyes and a small mouth hole out of a paper bag is sounding genius right about now.

Amazing

I have discovered something that may have completely changed what I think about blogging. Up until now, I have severely doubted it's effectiveness or entertainment or enjoyment.

Ladies and gents, I have found something that proves me wrong.

www.mangosblog.com

While browsing through some random blogs at work this past Friday (aka: The Most Boring Day of Work Ever) I came across this little gem and I'm hooked.

I know this guy will write a book and I know I will be one of the first people to buy it.

If you have some extra time on your hands (come on, admit it, you don't have the busy, full, happy life that you try to convince yourself and others that you possess) start with the archives.

Enjoy.

Employee Profile: The Starfish

Here at the agency, we're split into two different departments: management (that's mine) and creative. Today's profile will highlight the leader of the "other" department.

The Starfish is our "Creative Director." He is one of the most pompous, arrogant, loud and impossible people I have ever met. I tend to think that his overdone personality branches from some father/son issues, but I really don't know him well enough to make any sort of accurate statement. I can say, however, that the above character traits are trying to overcompensate for the fact that he has the face and body of a 12 year old (maybe 13 if I'm being generous).

I call him The Starfish because he's constantly regenerating, even if he gets shot down. He pushes his ideas and opinions to the point of submission and exhaustion. He says something in 20 minutes that he could say in 2. He thinks he is God's gift to our industry.

I can't stand him.

The Starfish also thinks I'm his secretary. Despite the fact that he has absolutely no jurisdiction over me or any of my daily duties, he asks me to make his phone calls, write his emails and follow through on his "projects." He even had the nerve one day to tell me (no, not ask) to put away a display for him. I said no, of course.

He's an overgrown child who has been handed some serious (only in terms of this place, people) power and responsibility. I just think he's an overpaid twit.

I've gotten really good at Faking It

I've never been one to be false with my feelings or emotions. I wear my heart on my sleeve to the extent that it occasionally gets me into a bit of a pickle. When I'm annoyed, it's obvious enough. I'm very abrupt, easily irritated and just generally not pleasant to be around. It usually wears off fairly quickly and then I feel guilty about it. It's a vicious cycle.

So, when acquaintances tell me how confident I am, I get very confused because, in reality, I'm quite insecure. You name it, I have some level of insecurity about it. My hair, my clothes, my level of fatness, my level of fitness, my relationships with friends and loved ones, and even my ability to do my very easy job. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not crazy about this facet of my personality and it causes lots of problems, all of which I would love to avoid.

On the flip side of this, I'm terrible at taking compliments which is weird because someone who is insecure is supposed to crave them. I never feel they are sincere and I have to dwell and can never move on. It's awful. It's like I can't get out of my own head.

So, I've decided that, since I hide my insecurity well enough (but damn those people who can see right through me) that at least that's a good start. It could be worse...I could be a blubbering, homely idiot.

I told myself this blog wouldn't become a self deprecating pile of crap and it ISN'T. If I write about this here, that means I can't go back on my promise to myself. Or something.

This was a random entry (and maybe a little too deep)...there will be more funny to follow. I may be insecure, but I know I can be pretty damn hilarious.

The Non-Healing Paper Cut

So I have this paper cut in that really sensitive skin that connects my thumb to my index finger on my left hand. It refuses to heal, partially because with every movement of my hand, the healing process has to restart. Poor small papercut. Poor open wound. It's sad.

In other news:

I needed a good dose of happy due to all of the crappy things that have been going on. My father has most certainly delivered. Now, I know there are so many people out there who are not huge fans of their Dad or have bad relationships, don't speak, etc. and that's a real shame to me. I do understand, however, because I myself have an estranged mother. Don't worry, I'm in therapy for that. And I know it's not my fault.

Anyway, my Dad called me today and told me he sold 13 trucks last week. He sells the big, huge, 18 wheelers so you can imagine what kind of dough he took away from that. He tells me he wants to give me some of it, maybe pay off a student loan or two. Uhm...YES?!?!?!

But here's the problem: I have this strange determination to do everything on my own and not need anyone to help me do anything. It's an odd, independency thing I have going. I'm trying to cure myself of it. We'll see if and how I will swallow my pride.

I need to quickly mention my jaunt to the gym last night and what I call "The Park, Don't Walk" Phenomenon. My gym is in a part of town with limited parking spaces. It has become more of a problem recently because of all this god damn snow. There are about 20 parking spots right in front, a larger lot in back and then street parking as well as a UPS warehouse lot that we are allowed to park in. Each of these is further and further away from the gym entrance BUT, the further away you get, the less hassle you have to deal with even IF you need to do a little extra walking. After all, I did drive there to get exercise, so walking from my car to the gym should be an added bonus as long as I am properly suited up for the cold winter months. Apparently, I am in the minority with this attitude because every time I go after work, there are at least five cars waiting in line for the closer parking lot when they can just as easily go a little way down the street and NOT have to wait. Last time, the situation was particularily harrowing because two cars were fighting for the same prime spot. I actually almost got hit on my way out because of the competition. It's reverse logic to me. Didn't they drive here in order to move their lazy asses and NOW they need to park RIGHT next to door?

I'm completely perplexed.

We all knew it wouldn't last long

It's amazing to me sometimes how down on myself I can be in one minute and how resourceful and strong I can be the next.

I'm blaming it entirely on hormones.

I've already got a phone interview set up for Friday with a local newspaper company for a marketing/promotion position. This is actually a newspaper that I do quite a bit of business with in my current soul sucking job AND...get THIS...the person who trained me at the soul sucking job that I had before this one works there. Weird, huh?

So, in order to get what I want out of this next situation (I mean, let's face it, I can't get shot down twice in one month, right?) I might have to tell a little white lie about my current salary...just as a way to perhaps cushion things, just a little more.

But I'm so terrible at lying.

Onto the next

I didn't get the job.

I'm feeling pretty down about it but I find comfort in telling myself it just wasn't meant to be.

I also find comfort in the fact that there were so many people rooting for me. Thanks for that...very much.

Perhaps I'm not ready for the phenomenon that IS The Boss Man. Perhaps I'm supposed to stay in my crappy apartment for just a little longer. Perhaps there is something even better coming along.

In the words of a very good friend of mine: "We shall see what we shall see."

Yep.