Grease and lawsuits

Holy crap. This day sucked so very hard. It began by me trying to contact Patrick at Geico to discuss my pending lawsuit. That's right, the wicked witch of Florida has decided to bypass negotiations with my insurance company so she can sue me directly. For $750,000.00. That's right, three quarters of a million dollars. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!?!?!?

For crying out loud. I spent part of my day sitting at my desk imagining everything in my life that can possibly be ruined by this woman. Lose my 401K, my $1000 car, my stereo? My bed? Dock my wages? Live in the gutter? What?!

But I spent the rest of my day crying in the bathroom because of something entirely different. There's a new guy in my office, who will be called Grease from this day forward. Grease has greasy hair and a completely slimy persona, hence the nickname. We had a managers meeting this morning, after which he kept us all there to discuss money-saving tactics. He was oh-so-condescending, and actually yelled at one of my coworkers for taking notes. I was flabbergasted. And when I left, I felt disgusted. I think if I make his priorities my priorities, I'll hate myself. I don't know if I can stay in this place. But I also don't know how else I'd pay the bills. Or, you know, that $750,000.00. This line of reasoning led to all of the bathroom crying. It was awful. Even thinking about it - hell, my keyboard is going to start malfunctioning for all the bloody tears in it. (Sidebar: mom thinks "bloody" originated with Christ's death, so I'm not supposed to say it anymore. Good God.)

Anyway, thank God Jack McFarland was there today for me to talk to. He saved me today. Plus he called one of his darling sisters for lawyerly advice. I love them both.

I have to run to rehearsal, otherwise this entry would probably last for several pages. (Lucky readers.) Hopefully by the time I get home I'll be more calm. I'm really glad that I enjoy rehearsal. Really, really glad.

Daaaamn, Gina!

Holy crap, is Duchess exhausted!! I haven't pulled an all-nighter since college, and there's good reason. This no sleep stuff sucks staples. Not a good way to start off the work week, either. I was hoping to have the office to myself for a good half hour or so to snooze and whatnot, but the new guy came in early, too. Of course he did.

Agent Crunked

You didn't let me down, man purse, and I appreciate it. Last night was HO's birthday party, and my first formal introduction to much of his Jersey trash family. They were fantastic. The mixed drinks (including Cosmos, huzzah!) were flowing, the hors d'oeuvres were delicious, the company was entertaining, and the atmosphere was delightful.

I went to nation for the first time and danced my little heart away. The mo's were much more liberal with where they'd put their hands during the dancing, but let's be honest. I'm taking it where I can get it. And one friend accidentally stuck his finger up my nose whilst trying to grab my head to talk into my ear, so technically, I had intercourse last night. Bully for me.

So all of my new party friends are lovely, and I had a jolly good time. However, I realized that I haven't missed coming home dizzy and reeking of smoke these past few months. I guess I'm not a clubber at heart after all. But according to all the homos, I have a beatiful rack. See? It all evens out in the end.

To the pickers in my life

Please do not pick at your ear with a pen cap during a conference call and wipe the wax across your notes. It’s gross, and what if I have to borrow those later?

Please don’t stand in the middle of the escalator, preventing all from walking up it. If you insist on doing so, it would be wise to recognize that everyone behind you is not only annoyed at your selfish, inconsiderate behavior, but we are all paying enough attention to notice that you are blatantly picking your nose, then placing your hand on the moving handrail. Not nice.

If you must eat whatever you have just picked off of your scalp, and you must do it repeatedly for approximately one minute, it would be better to do so in private. Facing a room full of 10 people is not a discreet position. I am thoroughly grossed out. Oh, and I’m never dating again. Not men, anyway.

Since this blog is all about me,

I love (in no particular order):

1. Symphony bars with almonds and toffee chips.
2. Dinner with friends in whose company you never have to edit yourself.
3. Raspberry cookies from Kennedy’s bakery in Cambridge, Ohio (I just learned that’s how you spell raspberry, by the way. So . . . .)
4. Spellchecker.
5. My Miss Piggy alarm clock. Thanks, Uncle Pat.
6. Christmas smells.
7. Josh Groban. (Did you see him on Ally McBeal? Adorable.)
8. Italian. The language, the food, the people . . .
9. My bed.
10. Peach pie.

I don’t love:

1. Pink eye.
2. Burping.
3. My runny nose.
4. Dry skin.
5. Money and all that it entails.
6. Not having enough time for friends.
7. Getting up before nine.
8. Spiders.
9. Shedding.
10. Doing a crappy job.

I wish:
1. I enjoyed poetry more than I do.
2. I didn’t have to worry about money and all that it entails.
3. I had my own home to decorate, cook in, and run around naked in.
4. My family all lived within an hour’s drive.
5. I loved my job.
6. I had a full time masseuse.
7. I wasn’t afraid of childbirth.
8. I spoke Italian.
9. I had a villa in Greece.
10. I was a lifeguard.

bad news

So much bad news today. 1. My cute new red drink bottle is no longer leak-proof. It now drips all down the front of my shirt whenever I take a drink. 2. I caught pink eye from one of my coworkers' kids. 3. My new, handsome, Italian-actor-boyfriend (who doesn't know it yet) turned out to be gay. Great.

At least it's Friday.

Long time no blog

Goodness gracious, who knew I’d ever treasure sleep so much? The new job keeps going back and forth between a) having a handle on things and generally feeling swamped; and b) feeling as if I have no idea what’s going on, and all efforts are hopeless. I’m in mode A right now, so I’m a pretty happy camper.

I LOVE my director. I’ve started stage managing a show, and he’s such a doll. Plus, most of the cast is so talented and kind. I’m in heaven. Wish I could do it full-time.

Now, I hate to say it, but I’m not sad that I’m missing Happy Hour tonight. Some of us have been going, essentially every Thursday, for the last three years. I’ve loved it. And when I’ve missed it, I’ve been very sad. However, the group has changed. Some of my favorites aren’t in it anymore, and some of my non-favorites are. I see my favs who are still around outside of HH, so I don’t have to go to see them. Plus I’m poor, so dropping 35 bucks every week because some people think tipping on tax is excessive can wear on the pocketbook. So yeah, I’m not sad.

By the way, one of the cast members is my boyfriend, but doesn’t know it yet. I’m working on it. Updates to come.

Tomorrow's Thanksgiving - Tra la la!

I am so excited to get away from the office and into familyland. I got us some new family share phones, and most of the family's gonna be there, and I can sleep in, and we'll eat lots of good food . . . AND (I just found out) we're going shopping for a Christmas tree on Saturday! Huzzah! I get to be part of the Christmas tree picking!

Tonight's going to be a long drive, though. I'm packing good tunes, water, and headache medicine.

For the record: work is getting better and busier; and I did not lick Dave's face, no matter what Jack McFarland says.

Yay for presents!

Pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving was great, even though I was sick. There’s this couple that I adore who were at the party, and they gave me a belated birthday present. Two, actually. Though I liked both presents a lot, one of them was especially thoughtful. I had commented on it in the past very casually and without intent or expectation, and one of these friends remembered and bought it for me. Don’t you love that? Unexpected thoughtfulness. It makes me feel so good.

And now it’s time to gear up for the REAL Thanksgiving. I can’t wait to see the family. I’m so excited. Hippie, the oldest of my 3 brothers, can’t come this year because he’s busy dj-ing and playing his harmonica with the steel drum band on the cruise ship he works on. Poor sap. Stuck in the Caribbean. My God, it should be a country-western song for all the tragedy. Anyway, the other three sibs will be there, and that’ll be fun. I just hope my car makes it. And, of course, that I don’t hit anybody on the way there, causing them to have shoulder surgery and sue me. Jerks.

Joke of the Day

What’s the difference between popcorn and pea soup?


Anybody can pop corn.

Clearly, I am menopausal

It was nice outside this morning, but it’s supposed to be cold and rainy, so I took a coat and umbrella to the metro. The train I missed had 8 billion empty seats. The train that came less than two minutes later was packed, but a girl’s gotta get to work.

So I stand. Tired and squished. Suddenly I’m nauseated, and sweating profusely. Damn coat. No room to take it off, either. The metro ride was hell.

I walk to my office, sweating. I get myself a glass of ice water, sweating. Drink it, sweating. Sit at my desk for five minutes, and now I’m freezing. That’s right. I didn’t chomp on the ice or anything.

Next step – hot coffee. It’s helping, but I anticipate being cold for most of the day. Just thinking about ice gives me goose bumps. So I cradle the coffee mug between my cold hands, and hope to be distracted by interesting work.

Icy McFrozen

I am cold all the time. In my living room, at my office, in the kitchen, in my bedroom. The only time I’m NOT cold is after I’ve been tucked in bed with the heating pad for 20 minutes. Getting out of that cozy little haven is hell in the morning. The thermostat is at a decent temperature – 74. Nobody else in my office keeps his coat on all day. What’s my problem? Good buddy / former roomie, whom I shall henceforth call Jack McFarland, thinks it’s all in my head. Jack says I’m getting sick and know it, so I’m subconsciously convincing myself that I have a low body temperature or something. It makes sense, but since it had been brought to my attention, I was hoping I could override the system and make it go away. No such luck. Still cold.

I’m contemplating investing in a second heating pad to sit on at the office. Ooooo – or maybe one of those heated massage chair cover thingies. I wonder how expensive they are . . . That would be perfect.

Grammar lesson

To the (sadly growing number of) speech delinquents in my office. Please review the following vocabulary words.

Mouth: pronounced just as it is spelled. “Mouf” is not the correct pronunciation.

(likewise) Fourth: pronounced the same way as forth, and just how that is spelled. “Forf” is yet another incorrect pronunciation.

(again, likewise) Health: pronounced “helth,” not so much “helf.”

Please make a note of it, fellas. You’re over 30 and well-educated. Good Lord.

New job

I'm starting my first show as a stage manager after Thanksgiving. Hung out briefly with my new director last night, and he is an absolute doll. I heart him. I'm trying to be all strong and confident so he doesn't worry, and he's trying to be all helpful and reassuring so I don't worry. How nice is he?!?

Sidenote: Titus Andronicus is the goriest play I've ever seen. I had a special fondness for Shakespeare b/c of Hamlet and S. in Love, but now I'm sure the guy was seriously messed up. Who writes this stuff? But if anybody in the DC area has a chance to go see it at the Clark Street Playhouse in Pentagon City, I think it's more than decent. Impressive, even.

Work. Eeeewwww.

Have you ever been so unmotivated that you want to whine? I’ve been in plenty of grumpy, whiny moods, but today I want to whine out loud. “I don’t FEEL like reviewing the fulfillment report! Make somebody ELSE do it! I wanna go home! I’m tired! I don’t WANNA start the new appeals project! NOOOOOOO!”

Yes, that’s what’s been playing in my head all morning. Pleasant, no?

To the office finance guy who can’t find the genius computer programmer:
Standing next to his desk, staring at his chair, and making angry faces is not going to make him come into work any faster. In fact, if you continue to do so in such a negative fashion, I’m going to call the little buggar and recommend that he doesn’t come in at all today. Go away.

To the woman who’s suing me (see previous post):
I’m sorry you had shoulder surgery, but I don’t have any money. Is it really from our little fender bender? Really? Please take the $25K my insurance company is offering, put your lawyer back on his leash, and take comfort in the fact that my insurance rates will be sky-high for the next 7 years.

To my friend who’s having Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant:
Have FUN there. Everybody and their mom are having dinner at home that night. Relish in your unique situation. Thumb your nose at this nation of sheep. And for God’s sake, please over-eat. Oh, and catch a flight to DC this weekend b/c we’re having an urban family pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving dinner. You should come!

To everyone else:
I’m leaving work momentarily to get Chipotle. Jealous?

Florida - worst state ever

Damn.

So I'm being sued. Over a year ago, I was in a fender bender in which I bumped into the back of the worst Flordia driver I've ever met. Well, I didn't actually meet her. I only met her daughter who was in the passenger seat, calm as can be after the accident, v. friendly. The mother was in hysterics. The collision was not harsh, and my insurance company covered the damage done to her car. The worst that I think could have happened is whiplash, which I think I should have gotten if the bump was that severe. But I didn't. Not even a bruise from the seatbelt.

So now, over 15 months later, they are suing me for possibly over $50,000 in medical expenses. Ho-ly shit. I know this because $50,000 is the limit of what my insurance company will pay under my plan, and they're telling me I should get a lawyer b/c they can't cover it all. Geico has been great, by the way. They came out to my home and took pictures of my car, in case this goes to court, and they're super-friendly on the phone. And although my insurance rates went up 6 months ago, I just got the renewal papers and they went down this time. Hurrah! Yay Geico! They're always awesome on the phone, too. I only wish they could beat some sense into these selfish Florida jerks.

These people were driving a really nice car. And I followed them at 10 mph in a 35 zone for a nice, long time, before they pretended to merge, allowing me to think I should check my blind spot and merge myself, if there was time. I did think there was time. Apparently they didn't. So they stopped, and I rammed them. Clearly my fault (even though we could have made it easily), but I seriously doubt that these people sustained major injuries from this small accident.

They saw me - polite, local driver. They saw my car - a 1989 rusted Acura. They saw my clothes - far from what your typical doctor/lawyer/richie-rich girl would be wearing. Why are they trying to milk me for fifty grand? I AM POOR.

Now, if these people actually are injured somehow, and it's somehow my fault, and they're making expensive, weekly trips to the hospital, and they need this money, then I feel guilty. I do. However, I have a hard time believing that something's happened that their health insurance isn't covering. But the bottom line is this: No matter what's wrong with them (mentally, morally, or physically), no matter whose fault it is (from this 15-month-old accident? From clumsiness a year later to which they don't want to admit or claim responsibility? From their imagination?), no matter what these hospital bills are, no matter how guilty I feel, and no matter what the right thing is to do, I do not have this money. In fact, I have a NEGATIVE amount of money. That's right, I'm in the red. By a LOT. It'll probably take me 10 years to pay off the debt I already have. What's going to happen if I go in the hole another $50K? Unless I win the lottery or marry a prince, I'm looking at not having children or owning a home. Ever.

Thanks, Florida. For your outstanding citizens and your stellar voting record. Now fuck off.

Where are my keys?

I look in my purse – no luck. On my dresser – nope. In my pants pockets, no. Other purse – not there. Kitchen counter. Huh uh. Desk, no. Work, no. I call the bar from last Saturday – no dice. I attempt to clean my room. (I’m really getting desperate now.) No keys. I start to give up. They’re gone. No more keys. Too many dollars to replace them. Ick.

Then I start to hunt through my purse for my checkbook. Guess what’s wedged at the bottom? That’s right. My keys. Little buggars.

Why is Nextel so freakin expensive?

I want to get a family cell phone plan. But not many cell phones work where my family lives, booney central. So I must research. According to a recent survey, conducted by my father, out of over 50 booney residents, Nextel gets the best rating. Cingular is probably second best, but there are holes in reception. Nobody wants that. The rest of the phone companies are pretty sucky there.

So Nextel seems like the reasonable choice, right? Since I'm in a metropolitan area, pretty much anything will work for me. But while most phone companies offer their run-of-the-mill cell phones for free with a contract, freakin Nextel charges eight million dollars per phone. WTF? Plus if you want free mobile-to-mobile, that's an extra ten bucks per phone. I'm pissed.

One of the reasons their phones cost more is b/c of their walkie-talkie "Direct Connect" capabilities. I don't need that shit. I won't use it. I don't want to pay for it. Pointless.

But I DO want my fam to get decent cell phone service and not have to walk out to the edge of the driveway in 8 inches of snow to use the phone! Argh! [I'm feeling a little Charlie Brown-ish here, and if I seem whiny, I apologize.]

So - use Nextel and forgo buying Christmas presents this year? Or use Cingular and make 7 calls to have one conversation? Decisions, decisions.

Tonight I visit my boyfriend

Pat Carroll is a diamond in the rough. He is charming. He is funny. He is popular. He is a damn good time. He plays at Murphy’s Grand Irish Pub in Alexandria (100 times better than the DC Murphy’s – ask anybody), and I think he doubles their business. He used to play there every week, Thursday through Sunday, or something like that. And my goofy little posse used to go see him every Sunday night. That is, until we discovered Sex & the City. But I digress . . . .

Sadly, Pat stopped playing every week. We visited Murphy’s two weeks in a row without getting our “LOVELY!” fix. Sad. Very sad. According to my source, a Murphy’s employee who wishes to remain anonymous (and will, since I can’t remember her name) informed us about the situation. Pat’s wife didn’t want him out gallivanting until 3 in the morning 4 and 5 nights a week, so she cut back his performances.

What?!? His wife is telling him what to do?!? a) She sucks. b) He’s obviously in love with me. c) She is depriving me (and the world) of the best entertainer ever. d) She smells. e) Nobody likes her.

After months of diligent research (translation: cool ex-roomie forwarding me a web site), I discovered that my boyfriend has started performing again. And he’ll be there tonight. And I’m pumped. He’s gonna be awesome and performing for ME, while his wifey sits at home and cries. Because she deserves to. Because she sucks.

Not that I’m bitter.

W-squared, baby

West Wing! West Wing!
Rah! Rah! Rah!
CJ's the Chief of staff!
Siss Boom Bah!!

I can't wait. I love it.

I'm sorry, too

http://www.sorryeverybody.com/gallery/1/

And even though it stings a little, here.

uh oh . . .

Motivation . . . . slipping . . . .

ADD . . . . taking over . . . .

Entertain my Brain!

I’ve determined that I have a hard time being productive or even awake in the mornings because my brain isn’t active at that time. Case in point: this morning I was falling asleep at my desk. But then a friend had a problem, and I listened to it. And during that listening period, my brain woke up. The content was stimulating and it required concentration. This activated my noggin, and I’m currently being quite productive.

So I was thinking, I should have some regular pre-work morning activity to stimulate the brain and get me working. A routine, if you will. Reading the paper doesn’t do it. I don’t think crosswords will do it, either. Clearly, showering doesn’t do it. It must be something I find engaging right at that very moment. Somehow, nothing seems quite as engaging as another two hours of sleep when that alarm goes off. But you know how you pop right out of bed when you have a really important or exciting day ahead of you? A big trip or something? Your brain is engaged! Ready for action! I need something to excite me in the mornings. Thoughts?

Worst Work Day Ever

At the new job, that is. I suppose I’ve had worse, in the grand scheme of things. I was just hoping it wouldn’t be bad here – ever. Hard, fine. Challenging, fine. A little stressful from time to time, fine. But today made me really unhappy. Somehow, after hearing that today really sucked for some of my coworkers, that made me feel better. Not in a misery loves company kind of way, but more of an I’m-not-the-only-one-who-finds-this-sucky kind of way.

My stepmom used to sigh when she was tired and doing things (like picking up after us messy kids) that she didn’t really feel like doing. Yet it was obvious we weren’t going to do these things within the next hour, so she felt she might as well go ahead and get them done. While sighing. Loudly. It used to make me mad, as if it were a martyr-ish guilt-tripping mechanism. Then I caught myself doing it one day. Yes, I was tired and frustrated. Yes, I was pissed at the person I was cleaning up after. (I know. Preposition at the end of a sentence. Deal.) But it was truly an unintentional physical release of my pent-up frustrations. And as soon as it came out, I knew what I had done. However, I was too cranky to feel badly about it. I don’t like that I did it. I never want to do it again, though I think it’s inevitable.

So there’s somebody at work who has the same sighs, and it’s making me resent her. And when I convince myself that it’s unintentional, that she just needs to relieve stress, that she’s not trying to give anybody else any stress, it just makes ME feel stressed. So I resent her all over again, on top of the stress. Ick. That’s part of what made today suck so hard. And clearly not in a good way.

It’s six. I’m outta here.

Rhymey Whine for Monday Morning

Tired, unmotivated, cranky girl am I
Yet there’s much to do, and much to learn
I hope I can get by.
And at home there’s more work waiting,
Plus my room’s an awful sty.
And dinner won’t just make itself
Though mealtime still draws nigh
So the tasks build and the stress builds
And I try to stop and sigh
But the pressures keep on coming
And the runners keep on running
As they’re sunning to stay stunning
And it’s laziness they’re shunning.
Laziness, which I adore
Wishing I could afford more.
I’d be curled up on my floor
With a lock upon my door
And a sign with “DND”
For no one would bother me
While I’m curled on my floor
With a lock upon my door,

Napping.

IKEA

What a day. What a purchase. What a store.

IKEA is the store for me. They've got the traditional stuff, the modern stuff, the stuff in between, and the cheap stuff. Go ahead, guess which kind I go for . . .

Regardless, roomie and I got a kitchen hutchie thing today, and I'm pumped. I can finally get these tupperware containers full of kitchen gadgets and flour bins out of my BEDroom, and into a room that is at least next to the kitchen. Thank Buddha.

I have great friends, by the way. Sometimes I end up hanging out with buddies/acquaintances who are ok, but not great. Those are the times I think to myself, "Self, what happened? I used to feel so blessed by my rewarding friendships? Where did they go?" Then I have a day like today, spent with real friends. You can say anything in front of them, be totally honest, blah blah. And they're so generous and kind. I mean, really. I'm lucky.

Speaking of, good friend-roomie just rushed out of the shower so I could start hooching myself up. What a pal.

The morning after

Would that I could take credit for this heart-warming metaphor from Best of Craigs List, created on Wednesday, November 3, 2004 . . . .

The Morning After
The Country is bound for one LONG walk of shame. America, the once beautiful, is slowly making its way back to its apartment, still wearing last night's clothes. The country has sex hair, and can taste its own breath.

Yes, there's nothing like an election to make you feel cheap and used, and you just KNOW that W, much like the deranged Frat boy that he is, is high-fiving his buddies, retelling the story of how he fucked the country so hard, and damned if he doesn't think that he could probably goad her into giving it up again, only next time he'll get her so drunk and confused he'll be able to take her in the ass.

We, the few, the proud, the 48%, sit here scratching our heads, considering our country for the naive sorority sister that it is. America, you knew better. You've seen him do this before. You've been this girl before. And you know he's fucking Iraq right now. Doesn't that make you feel cheap? To Give yourself up this smug idiot when you know the whole time that he's sticking his dick where it OBVIOUSLY doesn't belong. Do you really think what you did was safe? I mean, we know outright that you didn't protect yourself last night.

But We have to bear in mind that last night was not a one shot job. He didn't slip the country a good old fashioned dose of ruhypnol and let her fall unknowingly into his arms. This time around there was no rape, no theft. No my friends, we've been watching this for months. Convincing her that he had her best interests in mind. Convincing her naive fly-over states that they might be the next ones to be targeted by terrorists (yeah Jim-Bob, because its your fucking Walmart that Osama Bin Laden wants to blow sky high, because he "Hates Your Freedom". Right. And on that "Hating Democracy and Freedom" point, why have none of the neutral nations been attacked? just asking. but back to extended metaphor). You should have listened to New York America. We were the ones hit hardest by 9/11. And we could have told you, in fact DID tell you all night last night as you were eyeing him across the room not to do it, that he was a prick and a liar, and would most likely just steal from your purse to buy some coke, fuck you and leave you worse off than you already were. But like a woman with an abusive husband, America fell for the lies, fell for the promises that things are going to get better, that he only abuses us because he really loves us (and God forbid, that Jesus told him to do it). America fell for the bullshit.

And now, she's on the way home. Sore, tired, and with considerably less self respect than she had yesterday.

I don't know what the future holds. but after a night like last night spent with a dirty prick like Him, you have no idea what manner of political genital warts you may have contracted, no idea what might be lying latent just waiting to pop up and threaten your safety, your way of life, your well being. I mean, there are plenty of other countries out there to start a war with! and I'm willing to bet that none of those we choose will be home to Osama Bin Laden (who was that again? oh yeah, the guy we were supposed to find 4 years ago. But again, I digress.)

So, my fellow Democrats, we weep. Let's be big about it though. It's over. Lets get back to watching him destroy the country, the economy, our status in the world, our Constitutional rights. Because in 4 years (Provided we're all still here) we can look all of our fellow Americans who just HAPPENED to have voted for him (because, like our slutty friends who take one night stands with abusive men, we can always forgive our fellow americans) in the face and say "Hey, I Told You So". Cold comfort, but the asshole in me sees it as the best I can hope for right now.

And Shame on You America. You let yourself be used. Get your ass home, take a shower, and put on the hap-hap-happiest fucking face you can. Cause Tomorrow you have to face the world, and they ALL know what you did last night.

Well, it's official

I've encountered my first beeyotch at work. Luckily she doesn't work in my office, and I don't have to work directly with her on a regular basis. But now I know that she's out there, making people miserable. Poor peeps. A shitty president, and now this wench. Will the madness never end?

It doesn't help to cry about it . . .

posted by dailykos.com:

'Don't Mourn, Organize'
by Meteor Blades
Wed Nov 3rd, 2004 at 10:10:13 GMT

OK. I read thousands of comments and dozens of Diaries last night and this morning. And you know something? I’m going to forget I read most of them. Just erase them from memory along with the names of those who posted them. Chalk them up to adrenaline crashes, too much rage and reefer and booze.

Because what I found in my reading was a plethora of bashing Christians, bashing Kerry, bashing gays, bashing Edwards, bashing Kos, bashing America and bashing each other. As well as a lot of people saying they’re abandoning the Democrats, abandoning politics, abandoning the country. This descent into despair and irrationality and surrender puts icing on the Republican victory cake.

Why were we in this fight in the first place? Because terrible leaders are doing terrible things to our country and calling this wonderful. Because radical reactionaries are trying to impose their imperialist schemes on whoever they wish and calling this just. Because amoral oligarchs are determined to enhance their slice of the economic pie and calling this the natural order. Because flag-wrapped ideologues want to chop up civil liberties and call this security. Because myopians are in charge of America’s future.

We lost on 11/2. Came in second place in a crucial battle whose damage may still be felt decades from now. The despicable record of our foes makes our defeat good reason for disappointment and fear. Even without a mandate over the past four years, they have behaved ruthlessly at home and abroad, failing to listen to objections even from members of their own party. With the mandate of a 3.6-million vote margin, one can only imagine how far their arrogance will take them in their efforts to dismantle 70 years of social legislation and 50+ years of diplomacy.

Still, Tuesday was only one round in the struggle. It’s only the end if we let it be. I am not speaking solely of challenging the votes in Ohio or elsewhere – indeed, I think even successful challenges are unlikely to change the ultimate outcome, which is not to say I don’t think the Democrats should make the attempt. And I’m not just talking about evaluating in depth what went wrong, then building on what was started in the Dean campaign to reinvigorate the grassroots of the Democratic Party, although I also think we must do that. I’m talking about the broader political realm, the realm outside of electoral politics that has always pushed America to live up to its best ideals and overcome its most grotesque contradictions.

Not a few people have spoken in the past few hours about an Americanist authoritarianism emerging out of the country’s current leadership. I think that’s not far-fetched. Fighting this requires that we stick together, not bashing each other, not fleeing or hiding or yielding to the temptation of behaving as if “what’s the use?”

It’s tough on the psyche to be beaten.Throughout our country’s history, abolitionists, suffragists, union organizers, anti-racists, antiwarriors, civil libertarians, feminists and gay rights activists have challenged the majority of Americans to take off their blinders. Each succeeded one way or another, but not overnight, and certainly not without serious setbacks.

After a decent interval of licking our wounds and pondering what might have been and where we went wrong, we need to spit out our despair and return – united - to battling those who have for the moment outmaneuvered us. Otherwise, we might just as well lie down in the street and let them flatten us with their schemes.

Shit

It doesn't look good. I'm going to bed. Wake me up when there's a new president.

Is that a keg in your back pocket?

'Cause I'd sure like to tap that ass!!

Best pick-up line ever. But if you'd like to peruse some candidate-inspired pick-up lines from Comedy Central, I invite you to read on . . .

KERRY:
"This is John Kerry, and I'm reporting for booty."
"I have a Plan for getting into your pants."
"I can do amazing things with a ketchup bottle, baby. "
"I'm looking for a way to steal your purple heart."
"That's a nice shirt. Can I tax you out of it?"
"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because under my health care plan, 75% of your hospital costs come directly from a special account set up in accordance with...."
"Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see. Also, I really need your vote. Seriously, I'm down like six points there."
"How do you like your eggs cooked? Because I want to know what to have the maid make you for breakfast."
"Baby, the only thing swift about me was the boat!"

BUSH:
"I may not have found those weapons of mass destruction, but I know where everything else is. If you get my drift."
"Bush is my name and women's private areas are my game."
"Apparently, I own a timber company. Want some wood?"
"Did your daddy work for Halliburton? Because someone stole the stars from the skies, overcharged the goverment for them, and put them in your eyes."
"If I could rearrange the alphabet I'd put U and I together. That way I'd never forget how to spell DUI."
"Are your legs tired? Because you've been running through my megalomaniacal dreams of world domination all night."
"Presidents do it for four years in a row."
"If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me that I started a war for nothing?"
"Was your daddy a Supreme Court justice? Because you've illegitimately stolen my heart."

The new job: Post 1

Let’s talk about the new job. Yes, lets. Much different than I expected. I thought it would be more creative and interpersonal-schmoozy. Turns out it’s mostly collecting and altering data, dealing w/ databases, and being interpersonal-patient/crazy. It’s a challenge, though. And I do appreciate a challenge.

My first impressions of people suck. And then turn out to be right. And then suck again. I think I fail to see others in a multi-faceted light, especially when I need them to be in a category, if only to make communication with them easier. This is not working for me. Especially with the coworkers.

Phasing into the new position has proven difficult. Allow me to list my phases thus far.

Phase one: new and completely bewildered. I can’t remember anyone’s name, and I have no idea what I’m doing. But at this point, no one expects me to, so it’s all good.

Phase two: still new and completely bewildered. I know everyone’s name, but now I have to learn new phrases like “file transfer protocol” and “retainer fees,” and no, we’re not talking about braces, my friends.

Phase three: dare I speak up? I feel like I’m figuring things out. I’ve made a list of confusing phrases for reference, and I think I know what’s going on. Then I take a conference call on behalf of the company and get slammed back down into the land of nincompoops. I suck, and not in a good way.

Phase four: I am clueless. No matter what I think I know, everyone else knows more. And no matter what I think I can handle, somebody throws a wrench in the works that makes me feel completely unprepared and incapable.

Phase five: a new hope. I begin to bond with coworkers. They want to help me. Some of them know what they’re doing, and they want to show ME how to do it, too. God love em! And those very same people – the down-to-earth smarties who actually get work accomplished – are the ones telling me I’m picking things up quickly and doing a good job. I want to French kiss them for their kind words and encouragement. (I don’t do it, but I want to.)

So that’s where we are right now, my little cactus flowers. Phase five, and loving it. Not just fake loving it like those sheisty McDonald’s commercials, but really appreciating the current goings-on. Loving it.

Will the polls never close?!

I want my new president NOW!!

Barbacoa, anyone?

I had Chipotle for lunch today and can’t stop burping. Obviously worth the inconvenience, but come on. For the love.

Holy crap!

Holy crap. It's happening tomorrow. Today. The election. Just hours away. Holy crap. Can we please just fast forward to 7 tomorrow? Pleeeaaase?

Holy Crap
Holy Crap
Holy Crap!

I am forced to calm myself with Strongbad to stay sane. It's a mad, mad world.

Churchill Schmurchill

Mom and I fight about politics. It’s hard. She obviously means well, but she’s also obviously wrong. : ) I’m sure she thinks the same of me. We send each other email crap all the time and talk about it way too much, only frustrating each other further. The woman thinks George Bush should be re-elected. How’s a bleeding heart liberal supposed to respond?

So she sent me this quotation (because “quote” is a verb, not a noun) accredited to Winston Churchill. “If you’re not a liberal in your twenties, you have no heart. If you’re not a conservative in your forties, you have no brain.” This quotation is apparently rather well known. I just googled it to make sure I quoted him correctly. Turns out it wasn’t him. Don’t know who said it. (He was a conservative at 15 and a liberal at 35, according to some hoity toity professor.) Not the point, though – it’s a sensible comment, but it still irks me.

Do my current political affiliations have an expiration date? Will that always be the case? I understand that times will change, I will change, policies will change, etc. But I can’t imagine turning 40 and deciding that gay marriage and legalized abortion and marijuana are wrong. Hm-mm. Nope. Don’t see it. Clearly, only time will tell, but I hope I’m right. I love being right.

Ps – Is John Kerry president yet?

Et tu, Brute?

Now EVERYBODY's talking about the election, including Eminem. I'm slightly pumped that the guy might get some more people to vote, and he and I share a similar opinion about GW. Yet it's still difficult for me to take him seriously as a commentator of politics. It's hard for me to take anything he says seriously. He's too . . . . Eminem.

First post ever

If life were as simple as the half naked cowboy on the October page of my wall calendar, I think I'd be a much happier camper. And though I realize that tomorrow marks the first day of November, October Man (who will be called Ignatius from this day forth) will remain visible on my wall for at LEAST the next week. Ignatius has blue eyes like the waters in the Mediterranean. Despite the fact that we will never marry, he and I will always love each other on a level understood only by bears and prostitutes. (Ignatius is the prostitute in this scenario, you understand.)

Moving on. I am attempting to decorate my room. You could say this is happening a bit late, as I've already lived here for two months, but motivation is key. I hung two, count em, TWO pieces of art today. That's a major accomplishment, people. I'm going to have to rest until it's time to say goodbye to Ignatius.

Did you know that it's only 10:15 right now? Not 11:15 as some might think. Oh no. Today, God smiled a little extra, and gave us the better half of what we know as daylight savings time. Thank you! I truly appreciate that extra hour!

Song Currently Stuck in My Head: Seven Nation Army

I'm goin to Wichita . . . .
far from this opera forever more . . .