Swine Flu

It’s come to this…

 

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Earth Day, Corporate America Style

The Devil celebrates Earth Day today:  Contribute $5 to The Devil’s chosen green charity (total donation will be made under The Devil’s name, of course) and you get to wear jeans to work.

Hmmm, I think I need the $5 more than I need to wear jeans to work.  Sorry, Devil.  Sorry, Earth.  Yeah, I know, charity.  But here’s the thing — The Devil already has made it clear that there will be no staff bonuses, no staff raises this year.  Staff.  Partners are not staff.  Additionally, The Devil has its own charitable foundation, so if The Devil wants to donate to a green charity, I think it should pen off a check from its foundation instead of hitting up its peons for the cash.  I come to work to get paid, not to give money to my employer, not even in the name of charity.

I’ll donate to charities of my own accord, in my name, without corporate prompting, thankyouverymuch.

And while I’m being a petty bitch, let’s discuss The Devil’s tuition reimbursement program.  Under the program guidelines, I am entitled to $0 reimbursement per year.  Yeah, thanks.  It’s a pathetically measly annual cap, anyway.

* * *

On a more pleasant note, thank you, Sam, for being my alarm cat this morning.  I must have inadvertently switched my alarm to “off” yesterday.  Your meowing woke me, and I was able to make it to the office just three minutes late.  You even let me sleep an extra 40 minutes, bless your feline heart.  Good boy.

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The Monday Morning Bitchfest Letters

I am crabbycakes today.

Dear Coworkers:

Please do not confuse my presence here this morning with my being awake.  It does not work that way.  I even took the bus in so that I could continue sleeping instead of having to drive.  So stop asking me to do stuff.  I don’t call you when you’re asleep, do I?

Resentfully,
KarmaCat

Dear Local News Station:

Please stop with the flashback segments.  I do not watch the news to learn what happened 22 years ago.  The word “news” implies new, as in recent.  Twenty-two years ago is hardly recent.  Not new.  Please stop.

Many thanks,
K

Dear Republicans,

You lost.  Get over it.  I am sick of your sniveling, sour grapes commentaries.  Seriously, am I going to have to listen to your crap for the next four years?  What a bunch of sore losers.  Sometimes it sucks to have such a sense of entitlement, doesn’t it?

Hugs and kisses,
Moi

Kthxbai.

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Pass the Vitamin C and Birth Control, Please

That crappy bug that’s going around?  I got it.  Three days before Easter.  Four days before my Big Exam.  The thought of studying while sick like dog is depressing.  But I trudge on.  A passing grade is 95+, and I intend to pass.  Yes, 95.  Court reporting is for hardasses.

Anyway, half the class was out last night, and the rest of us (save two or three people) were sick like dog.  Our instructor mentioned how great that Airborne stuff is supposed to be.  I had heard that before and meant to stock up at the beginning of the winter.  The instructor’s words, “Get the Walmart brand,” stayed with me, and upon leaving school, I bolted to that unappealing store.  Duh, I’m sure my preferred Target has its brand, too, but my thinking cap was not on after eight hours at the office and three more at school.

So, I got the store brand, some orange juice, and a couple of carbohydrate-laden comfort snacks.  While at the register, I overhead the cashier at the register behind me ask someone if it was her first.  The woman replied, “No, these are numbers six and seven.”

BABIES?

I had to take a glance to see what this was all about.  Actually, I’m sure it was more of an uncontrolled head jerk than a discrete glance.  Yup, babies.  The woman was preggers.  With twins.  Babies No. 6 and 7.  Yikes.  Who does that anymore?

Judgmental me:  She looked like a Walmart welfare mom.  Badly dyed hair tightly pulled back in a no-style ponytail and no makeup.  Who knows how many daddies behind those six pregnancies?  But then I cut her some slack.  I mean, would I look any better, would anyone look any better, with five children (none were with her, so I can’t guess ages) and twins on the way?  Hell, no.  I know I looked rundown at 9 PM, following eight hours at work and three more at school, all sick like dog, no children.

Driving home, I wondered if any of my high school classmates had that many children.  I remembered Jenny’s mother reporting that classmate Tracey had five, and that was some years ago, so maybe.  Heh.  I remember when I told my mother about Tracey (who wasn’t the brightest girl) and her five babies, including a set of twins.  “Ooh, she found something she’s good at.”  Killer.

My point here?  Nothing, except (1) I’m sick four days before my Big Exam (so sad), and (2) I don’t have seven children (so glad).

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Part 2: Pourquoi?

So, why haven’t I been posting?  What have I been up to besides school and the loathsome job?

Well, my job took a turn for the busier over the summer, which turned out to be a damn good thing, as we were hit with 10 percent firm-wide layoffs a few months back.  This leaves me in the awkward position of having to be grateful for this job I so loathe.  More recently, at our “state of the firm address” (barf), we were told no raises, no bonuses for 2009.  Expected, but still sucky to hear.  Perhaps that’s because the CEO droned on for the next 40 minutes about how great The Devil is doing.  Yeah, if you’re a partner.  But for the no-raise, non-bonus getting staff and associates, well, you know.  Let’s put it this way:  Last year’s bonus covered four months’ tuition for me.  The Devil can suck my ass.

School?  My light at the end of the long, annoying tunnel.  The really good news:  I tested out of the Friday night English class!!!  Six brave souls coughed up the $50 (that could not be applied to English class tuition) and endured a 3-hour, 25-page English test.  One soul passed.  Yay, me!  Grammar Bitch* wins!

* Don’t judge by these posts, where I try to adopt a more conversational, casual tone.

Of course, no English class on Fridays means one thing – return to league bowling!  I subbed a few times in the fall and officially joined a team right after Christmas.  I carried over a 104 average, climbed to 107 (yikes), fell back to 104, and am now at 105.

I’ve also managed to squeeze in a couple of Girls Board Game Nights at Kelly’s house and a poker night with Lauren, Jeannie, and Leah.  And there was the day of tubing with Jenny.  My friends are adjusting to the fact that I, the girl who’s generally up for anything, now have a really tight schedule, and my free time (ha!) must be carefully coordinated.  They’ve also been told that I don’t think I can have anyone to my house until school is completed due to the house looking such a wreck.  Of course, with my three-year plan, I hope to be able to open my doors some time prior to that.  But possibly only a little bit prior.  Jenny has already been over, so she’s exempted, I guess.  A benefit (if you can call it that) of being friends since first grade.  Ditto for Olivia, when she visits from California again.

An inconvenient bummer occurred a few weeks ago, leaving school on a snowy night.  (By the way, I am SO OVER this winter.)  Walking towards my car, I noticed how odd it was that all of the car was covered in light snow except for the passenger’s window, which held nary a flake.  Um, yeah, that would be because THERE WAS NO WINDOW.  The punchbuggy had been broken into.  Admittedly, my own stupidity.  I know I should put my black work tote bag into the trunk, but I’ve just been too lazy to get into all the shuffling – pulling the steno writer case and book bag from the trunk, transferring my pocketbook (thank god!) and thermos of The Devil’s free decaf into the book bag.  Stupid, careless, lazy.  I could have done a better job of hiding the iPod radio transmitter, too.  The iPod itself (my big iPod, that is) was still in the pocket behind the passenger’s seat, its resting place while I’m in school.  Phew.  The thieves grabbed the tote bag and radio transmitter gadget.  In the tote bag were my glasses (the biggest inconvenience, even though I seldom wear them, except sometimes on rainy or snowy nights), sunglasses, earmuffs (it’s damn windy downtown), iPod earphones, office keys and building pass, and a few toiletries and personal papers of no value.  Those poor, unfortunate thieves.  I’m sure they were expecting to reap much more from that big tote bag.

Several days later, the police called me.  A resident in the vicinity of the school found my tote bag (with most of the items still in it!) shoved under the pine tree near his mailbox.  I retrieved my possessions from the police station.  Everything looked crummy, having been snowed on, then the snow subsequently melting, and all was covered in dirt and pine needles.  At home, dozens of disinfectant wipes later, all was salvaged, except that case that housed the iPod and headphones.  The only missing items were the headphones and the iPod radio transmitter ($75 value).  Fortunately, my eyeglasses were not damaged.  This, I could not determine at the police station, as the thieves had left the case open, and the glasses were dirty.  Dirty, but not scratched, it turned out.

I also learned that there were seven reported car break-ins in the area that night, and I was the only one to have items recovered.  In the end, the inconvenience proved to be short-lived.  I had the window replaced the following day and purchased a new transmitter a few days later on eBay for $11.  So, as stupid as I was, I was also damn lucky.

The (disinfected) tote bag and iPod transmitter now go in the trunk while I am at school.  The iPod comes with me (in my pocketbook).  Lesson learned.  Class dismissed.

On a sad note, yes, P.J. was put to sleep on October 25.  My sweet girl cat was with me for 17½ years, since she was just 8 weeks old, until kidney disease claimed her life.  She gave me her love while refusing to love other humans.  Some may call that bitchy, but as the target of her affection, I was quite touched.  She tolerated younger brothers Sam and Rory remarkably well, even though I know she would have been quite happy to remain an only cat.  The vet’s office was awesome.  Days later, I received a card with sweet comments from the doctor and all his staff and a clay casting of P.J.’s pawprints.  (I’ll try to remember to post a photo.)  You know it made my eyes tear up.

The saddest part about letting go of P.J., the main reason for my tears that day, was that her health declined more than I had wanted it to before saying goodbye.  Despite her low weight, she continued to eat and be active.  On Tuesday night, I noticed an overall decline in her appearance.  I called the vet on Wednesday, and we scheduled for Saturday.  Good, I thought.  A few last days together.  Thursday, she seemed the same, but Friday night she was downright frail and would not eat.  I put her on a folded up blanket on my bed, and she stayed there until we left the house on Saturday.  I felt that I had failed her.  I did not want her condition to get that bad.  I had no idea she would decline so rapidly.  The vet told me that’s usually how kidney disease/failure goes.  Now I know.  If I have to go through it again, the appointment will be for the following day.

Still, why haven’t I been posting?  No, not deep depression over P.J.  I’ve just been busy in general and in an automatic foul mood from nine to five, Mondays through Fridays.  That latter part, not a recommended way to live, believe me.  At times, I’ve been in a general funk overall.  Daylight Saving Time couldn’t have come a moment sooner, or else I’d have to toss Seasonal Affective Disorder into the mix, too.  On top of all that, I actually started to feel guilty about not posting.  So foolish, I.  Then I remembered why I started this blogging nonsense in the first place, some 5+ years ago – to appear busy at work when I had very little actual work to do.  That’s all.  “Enjoy the boredom” was my tagline.  Pretend writing and drafting of documents.  Sheer silliness, much like the inane essays and dialogues Olivia, Audrey, Sonia, and I penned for each others’ reading pleasure during eighth grade studyhall, under the guise of doing homework.

Certainly, I never wanted to share much of my personal life with the world unknown.  Still don’t.  No offense; I’m just more private than others.  Thinking back, though, I’d say I’ve revealed a fair amount of my life here.  I guess it just freaks me out to think there could be people out there who don’t know me know me but who know things about me.  As if anyone cares, but still.

Anyway, I’m still here, schedule permitting, writing inane essays for the Olivias, Audreys, and Sonias of the online world.

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Three-Year Plan!

Today is the first day of the next three years of my life.

It’s been in the back of my head for some time, but now I’m moving it to the forefront, putting it out there.  I have a three-year plan.

In three years, I hope to be done with school.  No, not because I hate school.  I enjoy it, really.  I wish I could devote even more time to it, BUT NO, I have this distasteful job taking up my days.  I hope to be done with school because it means I will be out of this loathsome place and starting my new career.

In the next three years, as I work toward that 225 WPM with 98 percent accuracy, I also aspire to get my house in order – de-clutter, get organized, and finish all those unfinished projects.  That’s a long list, let me tell you.  But, relative to the upcoming new career, I will need a home office.  Presently, the guest bedroom is more of a landfill.  I need to do some serious de-cluttering in there (after the rest of the house is straightened out), get rid of the twin bed from my youth (anyone want it?  Dark pine, so 70s, but it’s Broyhill) and possibly the matching desk, and transform the small room to my serene, home sweet home office.  Guests, the sofa and aerobed will have to do.

The last prong of my three-year plan is to lose the weight I’ve gained from being stressed out and deprived of free time to exercise as often as I’d like since I’ve come to work for The Devil.  Yes, that would be a veeerrrrry slow rate of weight loss, but I think it will be for the best.  After all, it’s not like I gained it in one year, so why should I expect to lose it in just one year?

Aside from those three main goals, I also need to get going on Emma’s scrapbook.  In three years, she will be graduating from high school (gasp!  How did this happen?), and it was my intent to give her the scrapbook when she was around 18 or 20.  I need to be ready.  Weren’t we just playing with Barbies last week?  No?  Seems like it.

Then, after my new career is in order, and my house is in order, and my physical fitness is in order, I think I just might go looking for a sweetheart.  There, I said it.  (You have no idea how difficult that was for me to say.)  Take heed, Lala.  Give me the relationship I want in the next three years, or take a hike.  Permanently.  You will be replaced with a more suitable suitor.  Perhaps even before the three years is up.  Yes, my eyes and heart are open to all, but I don’t think I can put forth a concerted effort before school (and the other prongs) are completed.  That’s when the real hunt will begin.  Heh.

I feel a somewhat unfamiliar sense of serenity now that I have my three-year plan.  Goals are good.

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A Brief Respite

Much, much fun yesterday, especially later in the afternoon, as the conditions became slightly icier.

http://yawgoo.com/snow_tubing_park.htm

 
We FLEW down the slope (spinning!), past the “finish line,” up the giant incline barrier (not pictured), and into the net.  The secret ingredient:  WD40, applied to the underside of the tubes.  Wheeeeeee!

Wow, that was fun.

 

If only it were enough to take all the bad away.  Work is now beyond unbearable.  It is downright unhealthy for me, physically and mentally.  Surely, this helljob is going to claim my life.  And I feel like no one understands.

‘Cause I’m praying for rain
And I’m praying for tidal waves.
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom, please flush it all away.
I wanna see it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in,
Watch you flush it all away.

Time to bring it down again.
Don’t just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.

I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t
Welcome any change, my friend.

I wanna see it all come down,
Come down,
Suck it down,
Flush it down.

(MJK, “Aenima”)

I don’t know how I’m going to get through it.  I really don’t.

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17

I made the appointment for P.J.  This is going to be harder than I thought.

Un-Happy Feet

Today, for the first time in months, I am wearing socks and shoes to work.  I pushed the sandals as far as I could, and today I had to relent.  No more cropped pants, either.  So sad.

My feet are unhappy, for a short time, until they will be able to wear boots.  Maybe next week?  Within a few weeks, I hope.  It must be attributable to my weird mix of hippie and punk — sandals or boots, no other footwear please.  Besides figure skates, of course, the prettiest of all footwear.

Now I’ll have lots of socks to wash, not just wee socks for the gym or mowing the lawn, but many, many socks, mostly black, which will need to be properly paired up before being returned to their sock drawer.  What a pain.  If I could afford to, I’d stock up for the winter and toss each pair in the trash at the end of the day, just to avoid the whole laundering/pairing process.

It’s amazing what can bring out the laziness in me.

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Last Night

So, which of last night’s events am I more excited about, the news that the not-so-competent instructor is leaving the school or the phone call from Lala?

The correct answer would be (A) the news that the not-so-competent instructor is leaving the school.

I’m banking on the odds that her replacement will be better, not worse.  This is particularly good news as we are scheduled to complete theory in March.  I (and a number of my classmates) have been concerned about mastering theory well enough to be successful in the subsequent speed classes.  Goodbye and good riddance to the scatterbrained instructor!  Let the improved learning begin!

As for Lala, I’m more curious than excited.  Let’s see, we last left off about six months ago when, following a passionate smooch, he was going to call me upon return from his trip to Japan.  Predictably, that never happened.  The call, that is, not Japan.  Maybe Japan, too, but how the hell would I know?  So, last night, he calls out of the blue.  Don’t you just love the way he keeps popping into my life, like herpes or something?  Anyway, I agreed to go out with him tomorrow night (no school prior to holiday weekend).  This is strange, even for him.  I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on in that head of his.

Lastly, I want to thank previously unknown to me reader Sheila for her wonderful idea about displaying my great-gram’s doilies:  Framing.  It’s perfect.  I plan to frame them and hang them in my bedroom, either alongside my bureau mirror (hung in a vertical row) or replacing my trio of colorful straw hats (hung horizontally, as the hats are).  It will be like snowflakes, year-round.  I especially like that they will be cat safe.  Many thanks, Sheila.

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