Jersey My Home

I'm the Garden State visiting I'd have to say my bestest and longest time friend. She's a bit obsessed with cleaning her apartment right now (we have so much in common!) so I thought I'd take a minute for an update.

Unfortunately, this lap top keyboard kind of pisses me off, so this will be brief, but check it out...

Aimee lives very near Philly (wear the boy lived for quite some time) and, not only that, but she used to live in the same town as the boy...and we passed his old apartment today, which I was hope was where he still lived, because then maybe I could see him because it's been...three months since we've seen each other. :( I try not to focus on the negative but it's tough. I'm not gonna lie.

BUT there are only three weeks left until I get to finally move over to my new, substantially better job.

Yay!!

And plus, no one can be sad around Aimee.

Find that Spam

There is SPAM in the blog...somewhere...I can smell it.

I can't FIND it to DELETE it. They do this shit on purpose.

One beer queer

I don't like to use the word queer but it ryhmes with beer so...it isn't meant to be offensive so just don't get offended. Ok?

I went "out" last night with a work friend. Now, when I went "out" in college, it usually involved at least two rounds of Kamikazee shots, one shotgunned beer and at least 10 minutes of table dancing. There were (for sure) some red cups in the mix...maybe a few ping pong balls. There was always a shirtless, vomitting wonder (not usually me) and no doubt an overflowing toilet. There was the frat house, the floor of which was covered entirely in sand for their semi-annual "beach" party, pole dancing, same-sex make out sessions and...well, I could go on for quite some time.

Ah yes, the good old days.

Don't get me wrong...I had a very nice time last night. It was just...not like college.

Now, "out" typically means over-priced beers (2), some deep, meaningful conversation (5+) and a server almost always dressed in all black (1). Everyone has their shirt on, and no one (usually) vomits. I'm safe in bed by 10pm.

I don't know when the transition occured but I think it has something to do with having to get up at 6am and not being able to sleep through work like I did through class.

My most exciting weekend plans used to involve keg stands (3), hook-ups (I'll be conservative and say 3), kegs and eggs (2) and perhaps some quality time at the library (-4).

Now well...I'm getting up at 7am tomorrow morning to get mud flaps put on the car (chilling), getting my haircut at 11am (much needed), then running errands, after which I'll drive to a friend's house where we will make dinner and watch movies and I'll probably be asleep by 11pm, at the latest.

I never thought I'd say this, but I really miss college.

Taxachusetts

I don't understand. Why do I have to pay tax on a car that I already bought, paid for AND paid the sales tax on? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

It hasn't made me angry before because I've never bought a new car. But it makes me angry now...especially because an extra $315 is not something that I have kicking around. I mean...I HAVE it, but I really don't want to reliquenish it. Especially to this state, and especially because I ALREADY PAID THE FUCKING TAX.

In other not so good news, I don't start my new position for just over a month. The politics in this company kill me......until then, I've been told to "Give 100%!!"

And I ask "Why wouldn't I??" Didn't I just get offered a position BECAUSE I give OVER 100%? Will I know just cross my arms and not perform my current job for the next month? Tempting, yes! Smart move? NO.

Seriously...Am I missing something? Am I actually "special" and no one has told me?

(I sincerely apologize for all of the caps...and I do understand that the last question is an easy target. But be kind...I beg you.)

I'm trying so hard not to imagine myself with red,beady eyes

With the warmer weather comes the desire to wear a bit less clothing. Unfortunately, the reflection off of my skin has already caused a few car accidents and one man to go blind. His name is Larry. He's nice.

Something must be done.

I struggle with this every year. I don't like tanning and the thought of self tanner just seems so disastrous, despite the new advancements. Or may it's that I really don't care...and I'm lazy. I'd much rather through on SPF 8 and bake myself by the pool. That just sounds so much more relaxing and wholesome. Doesn't it?

What I do know is that in past years when I've gone down to FL in the spring, I have definitely offended some senior citizens with the color of my skin. But at least I could establish a base before anyone up here could see my legs.

My skin is green under these lights, I swear. And no one likes to see that. Or my super blue leg veins. Damn my Polish blood!!

(shakes fist in the air)

FUCK YES!!

well well well.
Yee of little faith.

I got the job.

I GOT THE JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel microscopic

Blahhh!

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Still no decision, on any front. BUT, there are some developments.

Interview number four is tomorrow. My would-be-Boss has decided that he just really wants to make sure he's making the right decision...apparently. He's coming here to watch me do my job...the same job I would be doing there...but kind of different. It will be for about two hours, which is fine. I'm preparing, making sure I'm organized and look like I know what's up.

Honestly, I've lost my will. I'm about ready to spit in his face and tell him to take this fucking job and shove it.

Alas, I think that would be a setback. So I'll refrain.

But in the land of extremely good news (thankfully!), Sexy Mama has retained permanent employment and we are just so proud of her. But we knew it would happen. I mean...duh!

In the land of random news, due to burning the candle at both ends, I will smell like ham most of the day on Thursday. Go ahead and guess why...

Just like the end of Old Yeller

Bring in the WAAAAAAAAAHmulance, my people. I'm in a shitty mood.

Private Sector Technology Company, in conjuction with Successful Recruiting Firm #1, has decided that they will make me wait another week to tell me whether or not I have the job.

I'm not happy. If I'm not what you think you need, just fucking tell me and I'll move on and figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do next.

What little respect I had left (and it's a VERY little bit) for this whole shitcan is dissipating...and quickly.

Added to that, Elaine has just relayed to me that she is VERY proud of herself for actually remembering to attach files to appropriate pages in our database. Wow...that's impressive. Especially since my seven year old neice has been doing that for about a year and a half now.

Private Sector Technology Company, You Crazy!

No news, for some reason, does not feel like good news.

I continue to await the decision...

Standby.

I hope I lose weight from all this sweating

It hasn't been the best day. I came in this morning ready to go and started off well. My very arduous and singular task for this week was almost complete: I was on the home stretch!

Then the unthinkable happened:

I spilled hot chocolate ALL OVER MY DESK. Not only did it get in my keyboard, on my mouse pad and soak my wrist rest, but it got all over ME and my favorite blazer...which happens to be white stripped. I'll beg the dry cleaner to erase the damage. I'll pay extra. This is the best $12.97 blazer I've ever had in my entire existence. Or only. Whichever.

The majority of the liquid ended up on the pile of papers that I have been working from all week (see reference to "arduous task" above) and therefore I had to reprint all that crap out and re-highlight in my special secret code and...

Needless to say, this made me real cranky. Toxic cranky. Not a place anyone likes to visit.

So, that happened.

I'm better now, but it was quite the rough patch. Thank god for Dunkin' Donuts and sunlight.

In other news, I should hear about the new (but not really) job on Monday or Tuesday. I'm already preparing myself for NOT getting it and I'm also preparing myself for the idea that I may be stuck here for a while longer. These are not happy thoughts. BUT, things happen for a reason.

Right?

What I need is what I've not got

Damn, people!

I'm a big ball of stress and nerves and bitchiness. Count yourself as one of the lucky ones if you don't have to see me, talk to me or in general "deal" with me for the rest of this week. If, however, you are one that does talk to me or see me on a regular basis well...don't say I didn't warn you and please don't give me crap about it.

I can't help it. I constantly feel like I'm going to throw up.

Why, you ask?

Well, let me just friggin' TELL YOU.

1. I had a second interview for a great position within the company that I currently work for. This would be a transfer and I would technically be doing the same thing that I do now, just in a different capacity and in a different environment. More work? Hell yes...try four times more. No more blog entries like, ever. Better, less annoying and much less crappy job? Hell yes. More money? Who the hell knows. Your guess is as good as mine. Even though I already work here, I still have to go through an extensive interview process. What I have left is what I thought would be a phone interview with who would be my bosses boss, but is now an IN PERSON interview. This means I go back for a THIRD time. Yes folks, I already work here and I have a THIRD interview.

Do I have the job or not? My background and what I can bring to the job is what they are looking for. The commute is shorter. The situation is better. Will I be working 60 hours a week for the first 4 months? Most likely, yes. Will I care? Well...let's cross that bridge when I come to it, eh? It may be a non-issue. I may have to rot here.

2. I need THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. Elaine is driving me NUTS. She was actually talking to me today about emails that had been sent last week as if she had received them today, as if it wasn't news to everyone else except her. Shut up you ninny!

3. Nick is waiting to here back on an offer for a job he interviewed for yesterday. I can't stand all this anticipation!!!!

Thank god The Idol is on tonight and I can get completely absorbed in that.

And thank god for The Little One, Sexy Mama and The Phat Physical Trainer (I know I know...I couldn't think of anything better).

In Loving Memory

My grandmother passed away yesterday very suddenly. My family is working through the unexpectedness and ironing out the details today. I've decided to stay home and write a little something about her.

My grandmother was totally cool. She was sassy, loud-mouthed and almost never without an opinion. I will miss her so much for making me laugh with her outrageous comments, and for making any family function where she was present that much more hilarious. She will be missed and I am so sad that I'll never get to laugh with her again.

The last time I saw her was in the fall on Cape Cod. She came over to my parent's house for dinner and to meet my new boyfriend. She brought her own Scotch with her (of course!) and told us all about her most recent trip to the movie theater to see Capote, which she thought was an amazing film. She very much liked my new boyfriend and said this to me before she left for the night: "Make sure you tell me right after you get engaged to this one because I need to go out and buy a new dress. He's a very nice young man."

It makes me smile and cry at the same time now.

Grandma Ruth, may you make everyone, wherever you are, laugh all day, everyday. I love you very much.

Nap Integration

I ate more food than any human should in one sitting at lunch this afternoon. It was an amazing experience.

But now I need a nap.

And why shouldn't we all be allowed to nap during the day? They let kindergartners do it...why not grown adults? I can bring in a pilates mat and a blanket and curl up on the floor with the best of them. Hell, I'll even change into my pajamas for the occasion. We need to recharge just as much (if not more) than those little brats do. It just isn't fair.

I read somewhere at some point that everyone would be in a better mood if we all took naps. I don't remember when or where but it just had to be true.

I can't wait to take off my pants.

That little shit...

Greetings from the great world of commerce!

While there are some entertaining/soul crushing things going on here in the ole office, there are other, much more important issues to discuss. Namely...Kevin Covais. At first I liked little Kevin. I liked his effortless charm and his super old parents. I liked that he's not popular in high school and I like that he may have stopped growing. I also enjoyed the first two or three times he referred to himself as a "sex symbol." It was endearing.

What I don't like are the fourth through twenty times that he referred to himself as a sex symbol, his dead on impersonation of Fievel from An American Tail or his cocky, hardass attitude toward someone who may know just a *little* more about his singing ability than he does.

I will also ALWAYS side with Simon. Always. The man is a fucking genuis.

And now:
The Workplace Entertainment aka The Romper Room.

Elaine looks as if she has just gone through about 48 hours of herione detox and, conversely, has just come head on with a fast moving locomotive. Her desk is a complete mess and I think I can actually see her brain bouncing around in her head. The woman could make holding her head in her hands a national sport. Poor thing! I feel bad but...then again, I really don't.

Shit...I need to do some work.

Duff Man

I saw Ryan Seacrest interviewing Hilary Duff on E! this morning while burning off some stomach fat at the gym. No, I did not go to work today. Or yesterday. But I suppose I will return tomorrow. I came down with a "stomach flu" over the weekend which very much robbed me of my energy and my will to live, let alone return to work. "Elaine" has called me twice now "just to talk and check up on me" and tell me how "dead" it is in the office. Why? Why can't she just leave me the fuck alone? I've been vomitting and shitting out my insides all weekend, haven't I? Can't I get a fuckin' break?

I digress.

Ms. Duff looks as if she has starved herself beyond recognition and, in addition, looks as if she is preparing for a sex change operation. She is so skinny that her chest and cheeks are concave. The entire time Seacrest was showing her around his new E! digs, she had her arms across her chest as if she didn't want anyone to see that she has transformed into a very masculine looking skeleton. She also looked like she hadn't eaten in days, a sort of shuffling of the feet feeling that reminds me of Paris Hilton. As in..."Look, the only thing I've eaten today is a tub of no fat cottage cheese and a Grande skim latte from Starbucks and I'm just fucking tired and there is no way I am picking my feet completely off the ground when I walk."

This gave me an idea. I would be more than willing to help Ms. Duff with her obvious and awkward problem by donating some of the weight that I gained during the holidays that I have yet to lose. In my mind, this offers the perfect solution: Hilary gets to look like a real live girl again and I get to look skinny! It's PERFECT! I don't know why I didn't think of this before.

In other news:
Some sucker who works in a different part of my company has applied for the now open management position in my location. He's coming to "observe" on Thursday, which really means to coming to see for himself what a suckfest it is. Instead of looking at this and being pissed off and shaking my fist in the air, I have decided to approach the whole thing with gusto. My therapist told me something to keep telling myself: Keep doing the stuff you are doing and let the other two dig their own graves. Well, I may have paraphrased but the gist is still there. While it is terribly draining and difficult to attend work these days, I still have to go, face the music and be a big girl about the whole thing. I can't have a stomach flu forever...but long term disability is tempting.

There is another internal opening that I'm not really qualified for, but desparate times call for desparate measures. I just have to wait for the right time to bring it up...to my soon-to-be-determined manager.

#3

My co-worker, Elaine*, asked me what was bothering me today.

My outloud response: "I'm just tired."

My inloud response: "I fucking hate you, that's what's bothering me. You should have been the one fired, you should have been the one punished. And I hate how you suck up to people and I hate how fake you are. I hate how you think you have it all figured out. I hate how you make me give you high fives when there is nothing really that has happened to warrant a high five. I just fucking hate my job and everything involved in it right now. And I hate that I can't quit because I'm too fucking safe and because I care too much about what I've started. And as far as I'm concerned, it's all your fault because you were the one who told them to hire me. THANKS."

I don't really hate Elaine, I promise. Elaine just gets under my skin because she places blame where it should not be placed and because she is very inconsistent with her behavior. Inconsistency, in case you haven't noticed, is one of the things that makes my blood boil. I've had to deal with too much of it in my personal life. We work here, we get paid to be here so do your fucking job. I should be able to depend on her. Alas, I cannot. And that's why I'm so pissed off.

I like my new boss, but I wish she would unconditionally see things my way and make changes accordingly. I wish she would take me away from this place.

Elaine, before leaving the office, wished me a nice weekend and then added "I hope that things get better for you."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from telling her that things would be WAY better if a) she actually started doing her job and stopped being such a fake fuck or 2) she would quit and go away forever.

You wouldn't know it was Friday. Or that I really wasn't a bitch in the above situation.




*Real names have been changed to protect me.

Oh And...

Because I'm such a fucking genius, I can now post my heart away at work. I've found a work around. And I'm streaming live music which I should not technically be able to do.

So...

I have that going for me.

One of the few things.

You know that feeling you get when you think of have a stray hair or something on your face or in your mouth and it drives you crazy so you either dig around in your mouth to find it or grab empty air around your face to try and get rid of it because this phantom hair is driving you NUTTY?

Well, I have one of those on my face, right under my eye and I can't seem to get rid of it. It must have something to do with my subconsious. My hair isn't even long enough to being hanging in my face.

I want to go outside.

A new level of Bloat

That's with a capital "B."

My body has officially told me to fuck off. I've taken to going back to the gym this past week and have gained (yes, GAINED) weight. I'm thinking it's my body telling me that I've put it under too much stress, that all the crap I'm internalizing has resulted in a very pregnant looking belly.

I need some assistance. Or maybe a needle to pop myself...who knows.

Is that gross?

In other news...

I did not succeed in making US Airways my bitch. Actually, I think at this point they have made me their bitch. Short of hiring a lawyer and spending money I don't have and will most likely never see again, I've given it my all. And shouldn't that count for something?

Yep, it sure does!

$122.64

Just...

....Fuck.

I was looking for Pleasure Town and this is the shit I found

I wrote this earlier today while at work BUT the COMPANY has now blocked my ability to post in my blog (the nerve) so I had to email myself what I wrote (I didn't lose it!) and re-post here. See what I do for you? SEE?!?!?

I had every good intention of writing over the weekend and replying to all of your comments. Alas, this did not occur. And now that I am here (well at work, but still) and trying to respond to your comments, I learn that, in the true spirit of this company, they have blocked access to my blog. Yet ironically enough, I can still access blogger (the root of the blog) and my hotmail. Great. But I've read them all and thank you and all that. And yes, Kristin, I did get the picture of the geese that you sent me in the mail and I peed myself a little when I opened it.

I'll be honest and say I'm not doing all that well today. The morale here in the ole office is very low. There were tears this morning (not from me). We are all pissed off, if to different degrees. We are all confused and completely overwhelmed and not able to focus. As Nick would say (bless his heart), I am steadily trotting along the road to Negative Town and trying with all my might to turn around. But this cloud has no silver lining. This whole thing just plain sucks. And I'm stuck here, at least for now.

That said, I'll do my best to make the best of an otherwise uncomfortable and dreadful situation. I've put out on the table all of my honest and forthright thoughts about the situation and I have no regrets. I have joined another gym in order to work out some of my aggression and get out of my apartment (I got a pretty good deal, too). The money situation, for now, looks less bleak and my lesbian hairdo is starting to progress into the fierce stages (even if not on this particular day).

I'm also pretty pissed that Crash won Best Picture last night. Clearly the Academy is made up of a bunch of pussies. Now, Crash was a good picture, but Brokeback Mountain was an amazing picture, regardless of your thoughts on the subject matter. I went to bed at 10pm because the montages were getting to me and even Jon Stewart's valiant attempts at humor could in no way keep me entertained.

Fuckin' Academy.