December 16, 2003
December 16, 2003 - 3:55 p.m.
Best sandwich ever: lowfat dill spread, sliced cucumbers, havarti cheese on toasted wheat. The co-worker who brought this is getting one hell of a Christmas present. Coffee? Tea? Me?
Doesn't it suck when your codeine wears off? Monster mother of a headache is back. At least my belly's full of vegetables and fat. Mmm, havarti...
Oh my god! I forgot to write about the lunch from hell! On Saturday Mom dragged me to a holiday 'luncheon' [shudder] with some of her friends at Logan's Roadhouse. Where do I even start? One, that's a chain restaurant. Ew. Two, they specialize in beef. Dude. How many times do I have to say this? I don't eat dead cow.. Three, these women are awful. I'm talking big hair, scrape-able layers of foundation and talking with their mouths full.
For two hours I sat in a restaurant where people throw peanut shells on the floor, listening to a phlebotomist rage on about her office. Sweetie, I'm sure your work is difficult, but for god's sake, take a breath! Mom and I split the worst possible caesar salad; I played with a baked potato that was the size of my head. (Seriously, Idaho, what's up? Why are baking potatoes now bigger than a toddler?) Then things took a turn for the worse.
They started talking politics.
Living in California while Arnold governs is bad enough. But to listen to people chatter about voting for him was more than I could take. I stared straight across the table, willing the conversation to end. I cleared my throat. I sighed heavily. And then, when Phlebotomist looked over, I gave her the are you sure you want to do this? look. She opened her mouth to speak - and I put on my coat. Enough torture. Mom, you owe me BIG.
December 16, 2003 - 9:50 a.m.
Ahem. If you are the person who just placed an obscene phone call to my office, grunting at me in multiple languages and offering me an orgasm, FUCK OFF. I can give myself orgasms perfectly well without your nasty-voiced help, thankyouverymuch. And by the way,
World, leave me alone!!
Am I weird to be all excited about writing a guide to senior management recruitment during holiday quiet time at work? The office will be almost empty, and I'll sit scrunched at the 'puter, detailing how to use Photoshop and Pagemaker to put together a smokin' ad, plus how to write a database query to return only the "A" candidates. Geekdom, I am thy whore. This is the thing: one way or another, I'm going to get screwed next year at work. I might as well do my best to be useful. And this way there'll be a huge set of writing samples when job hunting next time.
I am extremely tempted to shop online today. Lush is calling my name. Unless you have either 1) a small family fortune or 2) a sugar mommy/daddy, do not start shopping at this place. I dream about their bath bombs. No other place makes cruelty-free products that smell so damned good. The honey soap makes me want to take a big bite. Rowf!
Thanks to Kat I've been thinking about my horoscope. From Rob Brezny: Is there any "pollutant" produced by the person you were in the past that could be valuable for the person you will become in the future? I like this idea very much, that there can be things you screwed up in the past that are now powerful tools. Makes me want to sit down and figure out what's there for me to use.
Thanks to all of you - and especially Ator's Christmas card, I'm feeling much better today. Last night I built an enormous fire using applewood. Fell asleep reading about southern Georgian (the country, not the state) food in flickering light. No TV. Turned off the cellphone and dialed down the volume on my home phone. It was absolutely lovely. If nothing else, now I have the perspective to deal with the weird shit that's being said about me.
Here's the thing: I've never been good with the extremes of criticism or compliment. One makes me defensive, the other makes me think you're either insane or want something from me. With time it's become easier to take the well-meant compliment - so maybe it's time to start taking the criticism differently, too. Bri-Cat's full of shit. He's wrong to overreact that way. But I know that he can't take what he dishes. So why take it personally? And as for the other person who's been critical of me - well, frankly, she's known me for all of three weeks and should be fucking smarter than to critique anyone based on so little information.
My task is to find a way to creatively express that I disagree with their opinions without anger or bitchiness. It's going to take some work, but that's ok. In the meantime, fuck 'em. They don't know enough. And it's not as if every person has to like me.
Except, of course, for y'all.
Comments: Speak your piece!
former / latter