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.