Bronchitis FTW

Posted on August 27, 2008
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So since my last post about being sick, I’ve been keeping a low profile.  Well, a low profile for me…I’m not exactly low profile gal.

Last Monday was Ploman’s birthday, so Tuesday found us up at Haven for dancing and stompy-stomp music.  It happened to be their yearly Luau party, so there were a lot of gothic bikinis strutting around, and the guest DJs totally made my year by playing some of the best music I’ve heard at Haven in a long, long time.  The guy who makes custom fake vampire teeth was there, and while I’ve always wanted a realistic pair of vampire teeth, I don’t think I could ever bring myself to sit in a club for over an hour with my mouth open while some guy who was stripped of his dental liscence molds enamel to my incisors.  Honestly, I can barely bring myself to go to the dentist twice a year for something that’s actually necessary.

Tuesday night pretty much exhausted me, so I stayed at home again until Friday, when I left directly from work to drive to Philadalphia to hang with Catherine and her family, minus one who has already returned to college.  There was much canning activity all weekend, and fun was had by all.

This weekend we’re all heading to Beartown State Forest for camping, and I plan on lounging all weekend.  I have a few books to read, the weather looks mostly decent, and Jordano is bringing his chicklets, which should be interesting.  My absolute favorite thing to do weekends in New England in late summer/fall is camping - I especially love fallc amping, when it’s really cold at night, and the air is so crisp and fresh.  Just thinking about it makes me long for the leaves to change colors…

RTFQ

Posted on August 18, 2008
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RTFQ - I sometimes finding myself wanting to type this out in response to notes I receive from people asking questions that were obviously and thoroughly covered in my original email, but rather than RTFQ, they just need to read the fucking email - AND the attachments - before making me waste time by repeating myself. And by “repeating myself” I mean FWDing my original email back to your lazy self with the note “please read to the bottom.”

In other work-related wankery, please can someone explain to me what the purpose of the following interaction was?

Email from me to owner of data: I have added the following information to the attached form. Please verify that these are correct and let me know before COB tomorrow.
Email from owner of data to me and so-and-so: Please send that form to so-and-so to have them check it over.

Note…he could have just FWD my note, with attachment, to so-and-so and CC’d me. Instead, he takes the time to send a note to ask me to send a note. I just replied all and attached my original email with the attachment inside. This kind of stuff really makes my head spin…

Asthma sucks.

Posted on August 15, 2008
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How to start your day with a!bang! on TwitPicYesterday, approximately 5am, I gave up trying to use my home nebulizer and drove myself to the hospital. My lungs were so full of fluid, and I had been struggling to breathe for so long, that my lips were blue from hypoxemia by the time I arrived.  Asthma is no joke - and I am tired of having asthma.  I’m going to start looking for a different pulminologist, since the one I’ve been going to for the past three years has done nothing for my lung function (which is 77%) and is out of town/unavailable 90% of the time I call to get an appointment.

Scapegoats and implied consent

Posted on August 5, 2008
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I don’t complain about work very often, and when I do it’s pretty much half-hearted; I consider myself one of the lucky ones who truly enjoy not only their job, but also [most of] the people they work with. Especially my boss, who I shall refer to as Awesome Boss for the purposes of this blog forever more.

Awesome Boss and I share half a cubicle together, so it’s pretty close quarters. He’s not quite 30 years older than I am, grew up on a rural farm in way upstate New York, and has been doing this kind of stuff since he was in the armed services. Basically, he’s probably one of the most knowledgeable people in this field, not to mention being one of the smartest people I know. The man is obviously gifted. Right now Awesome Boss is away in that flip-flopping country where The Man & Big Brother, Inc. do a lot of business with our partner/supplier, Flip-Flop Inc. What does this mean?

I’m holding down the fort. The problem with me holding down the fort is that I’m the youngest - and the only female - in this current working group, and since I’m normally nice people think they can try to abuse my n00b status by pissing down the totem pole. The thing is, just because most of the time Awesome Boss fights the battles for me, doesn’t mean I don’t have a can of whoop ass ready for the opening.

People who wait until the last minute to request things that involve major changes (such as reprogramming, rewiring, etc.) and then try to say that they emailed me about this months ago and it’s not their fault truly disgust me. First of all, you can’t just change stuff without getting approval from The Chiefs, so claiming you sent me an email is totally out of process to begin with. Secondly, I sent this guy, this Weasel von Pointy-Finger, about seven emails while I was reviewing his material asking him repeatedly to verify that what was in the system was indeed what he wanted. He of course ignored my emails, and didn’t realize until it was Too Late that shit! he’s not getting what he needs when we go to Flip-Flop Inc.

Well QQ, Mr. Weasel von Pointy-Finger, this is why you need to pay attention to emails I send out! I can’t believe you tried to play the system because Awesome Boss was not here to yell at you for this bullshit that you thought you could just blame me and we would never know. Well you didn’t expect that someone would txt me from the meeting and tell me to get my behind in there and boy did I print out every email I sent you, along with the “Mr. Weasel von Pointy-Finger has deleted your email without opening it” notifications I get from exchange, and it felt truly amazing to let you know (in professional and diplomatic language of course) that I think you’re a big, giant wanktard.

Something else that happened this week that has my panties in a twist – someone sent me some test instructions and asked me to review them and get everyone else who needs to sign off for this test to approve. So I get all the managers to sign off on this thing, and then of course AFTER it is signed off a representative of a certain government agency that shall remain unnamed decides they have an issue with one part of this document. So Mr. Requester calls me up and QQs on my voice mail saying how he never approved this (technically, he never sent me an email saying “I approve this) – but he’s the one who wrote it, and he’s the one who told me to get everyone else to sign off! I consider that implied consent! Trying to say “well, I never even approved this” once people start having an issue with it is a total cop-out. You wrote it, you asked me to “get everyone else to sign off,” so please justify to me how I somehow misinterpreted your intentions, you big baby.

“Getting to know you” meme

Posted on August 3, 2008
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1) What was I doing 10 years ago?
I was seventeen years old 10 years ago - right about now I would be getting ready for marching band crank-up for my senior year in high school, and was probably spending most of my time at the beach.  I drove a white 1984 Celica GT-S 5-speed, and it was the love of my life at the time.

2) What are 5 things on my to-do list for today?
1. Pay bills
2. Hang with Ploman, Matt, etc.
3. Play with the kitties
4. Eat Cuban food
5. Cook a yummy dinner

3) Snacks I enjoy:
Fruit, veggies/fruit with almond butter, I don’t usually have “snack” stuff in my house, though I’ll grill up a Vegan Griller (with Mrs. Dash Chipotle) sometimes…If I’m on a roadtrip and it’s roadtrip calorie-free snack, then a moonpie that’s been on the dashboard warming up, or luna bars (lemon zest), or if I’m having a really bad day, Lindt Extreme Orange.

4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
Buy a house in Key West; buy a dude ranch in California; travel the world and take photos with top-of-the-line equipment; buy & run a tiny, full-of crooks and crannies and rare out-of-print books, bookstore.

5) Places I have lived:
Stuart, FL; Northampton, MA; Philadelphia, PA; Hartford, CT.

6) Jobs I have had:
Gas station manager; cashier at Publix (express lane, baby!); math tutor; co-owner of local dial-up ISP; telemarketer for the Potsdam Police Dept.

OMG!!!!!!What the F*^%! What did you do?????????????

Posted on August 2, 2008
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paperhurts cleaned her living room

Because I had a new friend over last night who has never seen my condo, I cleaned like a mofo. Vaccuumed, mopped (twice!), got that wood floor shining. My parents - who are used to seeing random stuff laying around like socks, computer parts, empty amazon boxes - sent me this email in response to the above photo:

“OMG!!!!!!What the F*^%! What did you do????????????? Love, Mommie and Daddie”

“Yo, YOU supposed to drive HER around!”

Posted on August 1, 2008
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Last night Ploman and I headed to downtown Hartford (where parking is always a bitch) and after driving around the block a few times, attempting to find a spot close to McKinnon’s, I noticed a spot just big enough that I could squeeze in and still leave the appropriate 3-foot gap for the fire hydrant. The problem - & of course there was a problem, it’s Hartford and people are fucking rude – is that a taxi driver was double-parked in front of the hydrant, just enough in the way that I couldn’t pull into the spot. I sat and waited, gesturing to him to move up, before finally giving a little HONK! What does he do? He pulls MORE into the spot, thus completely blocking me. Ploman gets out and goes to ask him to move so we can pull in (he is my diplomatic half, because I probably would have said “get the fuck out of the way before I report you for blocking a hydrant”) and I can hear enough of the conversation to know 1) this guy doesn’t speak much English so we’re having a communication issue, and 2) he actually told Ploman that yes, he was parking there, and no, he would not move his cab. He also tried to tell him I didn’t have room to park my car with the hydrant there – thankyouverymuch Mr. Taxi Cab Driver, but I know how long my car is!

Now before you say to yourself, “whatever, stop bitching and go find another spot,” keep in mind that parking in Hartford is more expensive than NYC. That’s right, I’m saying it – I’ve parked close to the Garden in a lot for six hours in NYC while watching a NIN concert, and didn’t pay as much as I would pay on a Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night in Hartford at one of the little parking lots. The signs DO NOT DISPLAY the price; rather the man who works the booth decides the price each night depending on demand. Parking in the lot on Asylum near Koji on a Monday night? Maybe you can talk him down to $5. On a Friday night? He’s going to want $20. Thursday? OK, maybe $15 will get you a spot – but it’s only for a few hours!

I motioned to the guy a few more times to move – while giving him my most impressive and intimidating stink eye – and finally he pulled out of the way so I could park. Finding on-street parking once you no longer have to feed the meters is ridiculously time-intensive, and if I thought there was the slightest chance in hell in me stumbling upon TWO of them in the same night, I would have gone looking.

Parking drama aside, our trivia night was good. The pub was wickedly overpriced ($5 for a pint of Smithwicks? Really? And no cider on tap!) but the trivia was handed out on slips of paper, with three questions going out each round. The girl that ran it – and I quote Ploman when I describe her as a “white hat dating idiot” – couldn’t quite keep track of points, or rather, couldn’t add the ones we did earn. I think I would prefer to stick to La Boca, where it’s harder to hear the announcer, but you can get a pitcher of on-special beer for the same price as a pint at the pub.

On to the funny part of the night – as we were walking back to my car we bumped into a friend of Ploman’s from his building (and by “friend” I mean “neighbor who suckered Ploman into loaning him money and driving him around a few times”) who said to Ploman, “yo, I saw your red car back at the building, what are you doing out here?” Ploman informed him I had driven, at which point Dave looked at me for the first time. “YO! YOU supposed to drive HER around! She stayin’ with you?” was Dave’s response to that. Ploman informed him no, I was not staying with him, before being told “YO, I just got back from down south, had to go visit people, ya know, trying to get back home,” but Ploman, thankfully, told him we should go, and we were off, sans extra guest in the back of my car. On the way home he told me how he first met Dave.

“He was at the building when I got home, and he said he needed some change for gas. I offered to drive him to the station and buy him some, and on the way he was thanking me repeatedly, and then asking me if I like women, because he’s got some women, and he could get me a woman if I wanted.” (I would like to point out that Dave is most likely some sort of pimp, though I’m sure that though never crossed Ploman’s mind.)

“I got a girl for you, I got a lady for you! Now wait a second – she black – that OK?” Dave asked him. Ploman informed him that he was taken, but thanks for the offer.

So now every time the topic of Dave comes up, Ploman puts his finger out in gesticulation and says, “now wait a second – she black!”

Keep the job, I’ll take my pension…

Posted on July 31, 2008
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Sometimes, I really wish I was able to type out all the ridiculously funny stuff that goes on at the lunch table in the cafeteria here at The Man & Big Brother, Inc. However, the rule is, “what happens at the lunch table, stays at the lunch table.” That doesn’t mean I can’t give you a few out-of-context stories…

Sardonic Manager: “Oh you won’t believe what happened in the 8:30 this morning. So Dr. X [random managerial-type who likes to stir up trouble and INSISTS on reminding everyone he has a PhD] got on the call – late, as usual – and starts pounding on Louis – and suddenly all we hear is CLICK! He totally hung up on us!”

Disbelieving Manager, to Louis: “Did you really hang up on them?”

Louis, through a bite of banana: “What, I want to take it up the ass first thing in the morning?”

Other gems include:

“We can find defeat in the jaws of victory!” – on winning a major contract, but being told it’s a “lean year” and there is now a hiring freeze, with possible layoffs on the horizon.

“If you look at this engine, you will turn to salt!” – suggestion to reword the official proprietary notice.

“We’re considering hiring an armed guard for the engine, 24/7. If we can’t get an armed guard, we’ll just send over Paperhurts and tell her we’ll cancel her World of Warcraft subscription if she lets anyone looks at the engine.”

And my favorite by far…in response to a threat of being laid off (half-jokingly): “I’ve got one word for you: vested.”

Home, home on the range…

Posted on July 29, 2008
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It’s been a busy past few weeks. This weekend will be the first I will be home in five – first two away I was in Las Vegas, then I was in Vermont, then New Hampshire, then DC, and finally this weekend – East Hartford. Home, sweet E-Ha!

Ploman and I will be attending the Podunk Bluegrass festival on Saturday (look for a tall blonde guy with a short redheaded me if you’re there) and I’m totally psyched. I grew up listening to the folk and bluegrass that my grandfather grew up listening to, and was one of a few in my house in college who actually knew the words to traditional Irish folk songs. I once dated someone who used to hate when I would take advantage of their fabulous XM radio to put on the bluegrass channel; of course, since then, last.fm has made my need for bluegrass easy to sate, but there is nothing quite like seeing someone live, on stage, sweating buckets while wailing on a fiddle.

In home news, the kittens are sick. Mischief refuses to take his pills. I have tried every trick known to man to get a pill in his stomach; first, crushing it and hiding it in wet food. No, he’d rather go hungry than eat that food. Then, putting it in with tuna (which usually can get that cat tap dancing on the ceiling), but again, he refuses to eat such tainted treats. I bought pill pockets – no go. Crushing it up, mixing it with water, and trying to give it to him in a syringe? I anticipate the deep cuts on my arms scarring. Shoving it down his throat? Not without breaking his jaw and losing one of my fingers in the process. There is no doubt in my mind anymore – that cat is a black Siamese, and like most Siamese, he’s loud, obnoxious, needy, and part rabid tiger. The baby kitten will be seven weeks old in a few days, but no one really wants to play with him due to the massive ringworm outbreak he is currently suffering from. I finally got an oral anti-fungal to go with the liquid I’ve been putting on his skin, but I really feel bad for the little guy – he’s super friendly, very affectionate (if you pet him, he purrs…but if you pick him up, he sounds like an outboard motor) and totally playful, but I feel like I have to wash my hands ten times every time I play with him or give him any love. Of course since I cannot get a pill down Mischief’s throat, he doesn’t really play much the past few days, so I’ve been on “keep the kitten occupied” duty, and well…my legs have the scratches to prove it – he seems to think climbing up my bare legs is just SUPER fun!

Between taking care of sick kitties, multiple camping trips, and taking care of a sick me, my house chores have reached critical mass. I may have to invoke Operation: Red Wagon this weekend if I have time. Operation: Red Wagon is when I borrow my next door neighbor’s red flyer in order to haul tons of crap from my house down to the dumpster. It’s just too damn hot outside to make multiple trips down there, and this way I can wash the kitty litter boxes with the car wash hose instead of in my shower for once. There is nothing worse than finding out first thing in the morning that not all the litter grit was washed down the drain when you cleaned the pans the day before…

Camping – This time, New Hampshire

Posted on July 21, 2008
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This past weekend found Ploman and I trekking up to Tuxbury Pond to pitch our tent on my good friend [and hero] Terry’s RV plot. It was a little more posh than Ploman was used to – the formal dining room enclosed in a screened-in gazebo, the flushing indoor air conditioned toilet, and the [very chlorinated] pool all seemed to go against his (and to an extent, my) camping instincts. I’ve been RV camping plenty of times with my aunt and uncle down in Florida, so I have no issue with it. To me, camping in an RV is almost like going to a hotel, except you get your own kitchen, and there are usually a lot more fun things to do at an RV park than at a hotel. The Okeechobee KOA, for example, has a golf course, pool, tennis courts, game room, bar, nightly concerts, and llama farm next door.

In the spirit of “true camping,” however, we pitched our tent in the yard of the RV. This was not the kind of camping we will get to do next month when we head to Beartown State Forest in Massachusetts for a “real” camping trip - but it was fun, and Terry cooked delicious Persian food, and we toasted marshmallows, drank expensive whiskey, and generally lounged and enjoyed the woods.

Beartown is my favorite camping spot up here - the lake at Beartown is where we shower when we go, and the camping spots are nice – they all have a picnic bench, and a fire pit for grilling and making s’mores, and eco-friendly composting port-o-lets. Laura, Jordano, Ploman, Mike, Catherine and I will all be going, so it will be a good group of people. We’re all taking our kayaks and canoes so we can explore more of the lake than last time – we swam about 1/4 of the lake before becoming totally exhausted from the lack of floating. The mineral content of that lake is quite high, so it smells/tastes/feels good, but it offers no buoyancy, and so you sink like a stone if you don’t constantly tread water.

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