And To All A Good Night

We all have our own way.



This should go up tomorrow, but I'm done now and I already know this is what I'll be doing.

Not

It has been revealed to me, through my extensive network of secretive sources, that the person I was told had been hired to fill the empty OT slot informed my supervisor by letter, last week, that he will not be joining us.

Part of me is upset because him not coming means me doing more work for other people who claim the workload is too heavy and they just can't complete it (in the two hours a day they don't spend speaking with coworkers or browsing the 'net).

Most of me is okay because it doesn't matter. We can all get our work done quickly and on time if they actually buckle-down and do the work.

And now it's almost time to go.

They're Heeeeeere

Well, nearly everyone is here today. That's good because I won't have to work at full power and still not get all of my work done for the day. It's bad because these people are all standing around chatting about... whatever. I'm so looking forward to the day after tomorrow. And I don't mean the shitty movie.

Dashed Out

I have decided to do no more work today. What does that make me?

So far, this week has not been a good one. The woman who was gone all of last week, but to the best of my knowledge only asked for last Monday off, hasn't been here this week and hasn't, also to the best of my knowledge, called to say she's not/wasn't going to be in. (Some of the other people who work here think it has to do with her mother, but I think that even if I was taking care of my mother I could find two minutes to call work and leave a messages saying that I won't be in for two weeks.) One lady had scheduled yesterday and today off two weeks ago. And another one called in sick yesterday and said that she was hoping to make it in on Thursday.

Yesterday, that left me, the one office assistant we have, and my supervisor. Yesterday evening my supervisor told me that she wasn't going to be in for the rest of the week.

Today, there was only me and the one office assistant.

Today was also the busiest day on the schedule for the week.

I've spent my whole day, up until a few minutes ago and my breaks, doing almost all the work. Office assistants are not supposed to deal with the paperwork that requires files to be pulled or are money documents. I'm a fortunate person who gets to do it all.

Last night, I had my in basket empty (because I had all the things that needed files pulled piled on my desk waiting for this morning). When I got here this morning there was a huge stack waiting for me. Why? I asked myself. Because, I replied, your supervisor said she'd help by doing some of the gigantic pile of mail that you had to sort and stamp earlier today. I guess she couldn't finish or didn't try to finish the chunk she gave herself while she was chatting up the PJ's secretary on their two hour lunch.

At this moment, I'm at the same point I was when I left yesterday. Files that needed to be pulled are pulled. The sit on my desk waiting for me to go through them. Put loose papers in their proper order. Check the address record. Drain the blood of ten virgin chickens over them to help with the prayer for a quick and just decision when they reach the hands of the judges.

I don't want to do it though. I want to get up and walk out. Or, since that'd probably get me fired, at least put on my music. I can't, though. I have to be alert for when someone comes through the door and needs my help because I'm the only one here who's at the proper level to deal with real people be they in person or on the phone.

And so far eleven minutes have been spent writing/whining.

Maybe I'll look up Atlantis at Wikipedia, that should be interesting.

Keepin' Up

I forgot I wouldn't be able to put it up yesterday, but here it is today.

Strippin'

There is a new comic strip for today. However, I thought that since I'll be seeing family on Sunday that I'd post here on Monday. It has been posted elsewhere, for those who know where to look.

Have a nice weekend.

Regret

One of my biggest regrets, right now, is that I can't reach through the computer and throttle a person.

Something I'll Never Say To My Coworkers Ever Again

Yesterday, I was asked by a coworker, "When it's raining, like it is today, do you still walk to work?"

"Sure," I said. "I keep an umbrella in my bag all the time, just in case."

"Aren't you worried?"

"About what?"

"Getting hit by a car?"

"Nah," I said, smiling. "The only way a car is gonna hit me is if it hits a large puddle of water causing it to hydroplane out of control and once the wheels hit the pavement again it's pointing toward me and the idiot driver had slammed his foot onto the gas so it catches the road really well and bucks the car over the curb then races forward and slams me into a wall pinning me there where I whimper in the cold and rain as the driver fiddles with his cell phone and other cars slow down to see what happens, but don't stop to help. But I don't see that happening."

She looked at me like I had just died and walked away.

The rest of the day I had lots of coworkers take me aside and ask if everything was okay in that calm voice that is supposed to make them sound like they care about me and my state of being.

And that, dear peoples, is why I try not to say anything at work. Especially things that I think are funny.

Comic Dump

Got to work early to do this.

So Many Boxes

I was/am not boxing files today.

There were/are two reasons for this:
Reason the First -- Today was/is our holiday or Christmas (depending on which employee you ask) potluck. I knew it was today. I brought toffee. I was ready. The problem was/is that boxes needed/need to be built so I can file. I would/will use the counter that the food was (eventually) put on to stack empty boxes. Therefore, no boxing.

Reason the Second -- The person who doesn't know how to get her work done isn't here today. When a person is missing, I'm not allowed out of my little area unless it's for a break or to find a file. Therefore, no boxing.

Tomorrow's not looking like a good day for boxing either. Maybe not any day this week.

I'll surivive, even though I'd rather not be at my desk.

At least I get off work at noon on Friday. I'll be at my parent's house five hours earlier than I would have been. Hooray!

Christmas Stories

I'm trying to do this every year and hopefully build upon these great stories.

Here's the first one:
Grinch's True End, first heard on 8 December 2003 on NPR, about 3 minutes long.
Best line: "Now I'm not sure what kind of inverted Stockholm Syndrom took place while I waited on the roof, but I do know it all could have been solved with a hard shove and a quick exit."

And here's last years:
A Fool for Christmas, first heard on 24 December 2005 on NPR about 23 minutes long.
Best Line: "Well, at the food court over fried dumplins and Butter-Bean, I'm askin' what I usually ask my dates: who kids real father is."

I'm still on the listen for this years. I have five more days.

4:46

It's 9:57 and I'm finished with my work. I would have been done a half hour ago, but I spent the first thirty minutes or work dicking around on the internet. I read my e-mail. I read other people's blogs. I checked out some comic news and movie/TV news. I looked at the "What's New" on Snopes.com. I screwed around with that Google Local thing; I really wish that I could zoom in really close to Cowtown, but the satellite image won't let me.

Now it's 10:00 and I'm going on my break. I'll be back in fifteen or so minutes.

And now it's 10:22. Yes, I came back late from my break. Does it really matter? I'm not second this week. That means I don't have to come back to relieve the woman who's first up. So I took some extra time reading. I took that extra time to make up for the five minutes I had to spend chit-chatting with my supervisor when she came into the break room (which is also when she came into work) at 10:08ish. Silly chit-chat about her getting her shopping done, looking for more stocking stuffers, baking cookies, and stringing popcorn. My time is better spent, I think, reading than making pleasantries with those whom I don't socialize with. Oh well.

I finished a book last night. It was Hey Nostradamus!: A Novel, by Douglas Coupland. Buying this book was probably the best $3.99 I've ever spent at Barnes and Noble. The only reason I picked it up is because I really enjoyed Microserfs, which Coupland also wrote. Nostradamus is not much like Microserfs, though. Sure, there's humor and quirky characters, but the tone is different. Sad. It's not really a story. There's no specific plot, but there are these characters who exist wholly in the real world and in a world of their own creation. The book is very sad and a little sweet and the beginning is surprisingly violent. I don't want to write a "real" review of it because all the reviews that I've read (this morning, thank goodness) give away the beginning, which, in my opinion (I just figured out what IMHO stands for. I hate l33t.), is more important to this book than the end. I bought this book, probably, two months ago without really reading the blurb about the story and when I picked it up to read (only because I forgot that I have a book that my mom loaned me) I didn't read the blurb again, and I'm glad that I didn't because the beginning shocked me and I would have lost that shock if I had read anything about the book.

Now it's 10:45 and my supervisor decided that I need to do some filing for the woman who I keep having to do work for.

It's 12:02 by the clock in the corner of my computer. I had about 200 documents to be dropped off in files ranging in dates from May, the month she started working here, to December. About two-thirds of them went into files that are on the shelf. I had to check the other third in the computer. Of that third, about two-thirds of those went to judges who are holding the files for trials or hearing or other reasons that I'm not meant to understand because I'm not a judge, nor am I a judge's secretary.

So, here I sit writing this, to the few of you who visit, because I am once again out of work that I can complete. (I do have some other work, but the system is down that I need to finish that work, so it sits in a neat stack on my desk, waiting for tomorrow when the system may be up again.) In between sentences, I'm e-mailing with my mom about stuff. Nothing important, just stuff.

Oh, the book that I just started this morning, on my break, is Mirror, Mirror by Gregory Magurire, the guy who wrote the novel of Wicked. (Have I mentioned, recently, how much I really liked the play and wish that I could go and see it again?) This one's about Snow White, if you didn't guess from the title of the book. I'm hoping to have it finished by Friday so I can return it to my mom. If it's half as good as Wicked, I should be.

What else... What else...

My comic strip.

Nobody's written to say that they want new comics wondering why I haven't updated in a long time, which probably means that none of you visit this site for the comics. Which is okay by me. I have all the ones from Halloween to New Years written (on time to get them out on the date that's at the top of the frame); I just haven't actually sat down to finish them. I think my biggest problem is that I work when I used to do the comic. Sure, I'd scribble out some ideas on a piece of paper, maybe even sketch, very roughly, the panels at any other time of day, but the time I'd actually sit down and make the strip on my computer would be between noon and 5PM. I did some of them earlier and some of them later than that, but very few. And, for some reason, I rarely made them on weekends. Now I think I have to buckle down and get them finished. I'm not exactly sure why I think that, but I do. So, look for a whole s-lode of them later this week, hopefully.

It's 12:26 and my supervisor just got out of a meeting and gave me a look of evil, probably because I'm sitting here typing away like... something that types a lot, and fast... instead of searching out work. I've asked this before, I think, and I'm sure I'll ask it again but why if I've finished my work and I've finished other people's work in a short amount of time should I be glared at as if I've done something wrong.

People are crazy and sometimes huge jerks and it seems to be that way everywhere.

The problem with being good at what you do and doing what you're supposed to do is that when, for a brief moment, you come down to the level of everyone else you work with is that you get caught and told off for slacking. Then when you point out that you're working at the same level as everyone else, they get even madder because you've just pointed out a double standard and to most people that means you've called them a hypocrite. And I've yet to meet anyone who likes to be called a hypocrite. It happened to me when I worked at 'Bucks a lot more than it should have. It's happening to my brother who works for Pete's. And it's happening here, just not in that I'm gonna take you aside and yell at you sort of way. Here, the supervisor is much more passive-aggressive about it. She gives me looks with a frown that's trying to reach the floor or one with thin lips and squinty eyes. She comes to my desk and asks, "What should you be doing now?" I step away from my desk and when I come back I find a new pile of work in my once empty basket and all the documents are dated from a week ago, or more.

*ugh*

I've been away for a while. My mom just gave me a link to my aunt's MySpace thingy, which is linked to brother's and cousin's thingies and my may-be-sister-in-law-one-day. Best quote found on them, so far, is "Was that comment about you being sarcastic ... sarcastic? Ah, the age old question, 'how can you trust a liar to be honest?'..." Excellent.

Lunch time. I'll be back in an hourish.

I'm back. It's 2:03. There's a pile of work in my basket. Big surprise. Before I get to work here's something that made my day a little brighter: Someone brought in a huge pile of Ghiradelli chocolate. Among the chocolate are dark chocolates. The ingredients for the dark chocolates are: "Unsweetened Chocolate, Sugar, Cocoa Butter, Milk Fat, Soy Lecithin - An Emulsifier, Vanilla." Chocolate is the number one ingredient. Now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout.

Back to work.

The time is 3:13 and I'm off to my last break of the day. I'm finished with the work I was given, but I can see the pile over on the supervisors bar thing.

I'm off.

It's 3:45 and I'm sitting here with a pile of work to my left. It's all sorted into what I have to do with the documents. The top part is work that I need to screen on the computer because I have to pull the files to give to the judges or the calendar clerk and then I'll have to enter the data into the system after I pull the files and straighten then out; if I'm lucky, some of the documents will be given straight to the judges with me not having to do anything. The middle is work that I need to screen in the computer and enter anything that needs to be entered and then I get to drop the papers into the files. The bottom chunk is for the stuff that opens new files/cases, how ever you want to look at it. The stack I have isn't huge and if I was into doing my work today I could probably finish it all, but I feel like leaving some for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I plan on boxing up files. I'll spend the whole day, minus breaks and lunch, listening to music, writing with a stinky pen, and clearing off shelves. I won't have to deal with my coworkers. I won't have to deal with the few attorneys and injured workers and insurance attorneys that are coming.

(Apparently an accident just happened at the intersection near this building. My supervisor has pulled up all the blinds on her windows and is peering down into the street. I wonder what she's thinking. She keeps staring out the window and just asked the woman nearest her, the presiding judge's secretary, if she's seen this. Is there something wrong with me that I don't want to get up and see an accident? All I want to do is sit here typing this and I keep hoping that no one was hurt.)

Have I mentioned that we have almost no one coming in this week and next week? The calendar clerk, who's also my supervisor, blocked off these two weeks so the judges can play catch-up and make their records look good for the New Year. That means that tomorrow is the busiest day in these two weeks because two judges actually opened up their schedule and had the calendar clerk schedule stuff. Today, we've only had secretaries from law offices come in and drop off work for me and chat up the clerk who's always number one on the counter. It's nice because it's quiet. Those lawyers sit out there talking and try to out-voice each other so that their clients can hear them. The quiet is nice. If only my supervisor weren't here.

I just read, for the few of the few who are interested, that Watchmen has now been picked up by Warner Bros to be made into a movie. When it comes to movies made out of comics or books that I like I'm always worried. This one especially. Those who haven't read it need to understand that this comic is one of the tightest and best written comics, ever. To cut any scene would take away from the amazing characterization, since that is what this book is mostly about. And then there's the fact that the writer of the book hates the company whom he wrote it for and hates Warner Bros because they own the company that published the book. One interesting suggestion, from a fan, is that David Lynch should direct it. That, I think, is a good suggestion.

The fleshy area just below the bridge of my nose hurts. It feel like one of those pre-zit you get on you cheek that just ache and ache for many, many days before it finally rears it ugly redness and then it still hurts and you can't pop it because there's no head, so you just have to wait for a head or squeeze it so it hurts more but at least you get that moment of relief after the squeeze or just hope it goes away on its own. Yeah, that's what it feels like, but I've never felt it on my nose before. I'm very glad that I don't have glasses that sit directly on the bridge of my nose because if I did the glasses would be rubbing against the sore spot constantly causing me more and more pain. Does that make me a fortunate person?

It's now 4:29. I have screened all the work that needs to be screened. The screened stuff now sits to my right in four piles depending on what I have to do with each of them. To my left sits a pile that will create new files/cases. If I start them now, I'll have to finish them tomorrow because my supervisor hates it when new files sit at our desks with nothing happening to them. That's not the reason I don't want to do them, though. I just don't want to do them. I will though. I know I will. I'll get them done, get my desk cleared off, and come in tomorrow and, hopefully, box.

One more thing, I wrote that I hate l33t earlier and when I was looking over stuff on MySpace, it's like the only language there is l33t. One of my cousins seems to write everything in l33t and she doesn't capitalize. It makes me want to scream and bite. Most blog places have a spell check, use it people. And the shift key isn't that hard to use either. And for those of you who may try to be funny and put a comment in l33t, I expect it and I won't get angry. I'll just think you're an asshole and an idiot.

Okay, now it's time to transfer this (4:42), which is being written in Notepad (I like the simplicity of it), into Word for a quick spell check and then to post it.

Have a good evening.

Good Eatin'

I go out to lunch about once a month.

It gets me away from the office and I get to eat something that’s not between two slices of bread.

Today, I went to the Mongolian BBQ place in the mall. They have an okay selection of stuff. I freaked the lady behind me out when I kept piling the cilantro on. I like that herb quite a bit.

After lunch I walked across the food court for a Blizzard(TM) because even when the temperature outside is below 50F, you can’t keep a fat man away from his ice cream. I added Reese’s to it. It was good and made my hands very cold on the walk back to work.

Right now, I should be doing my work. Going and pulling files. Looking up information on the computer. Dancing for my pennies. I don’t want to though. My supervisor has handed me a pile of work from the desk of a woman who isn’t here today. The work is over a week old. Is it my fault that she didn’t finish her work? Am I the one that causes her to be away from her desk for four hours a day speaking with the secretaries and court reporters? This woman has been gone for two days and hasn’t gotten an equal share of the work since last Friday.

*sigh*

Thank goodness I don’t have to be back here for 62 hours, in about 25 minutes that is.

Done.

I finished the new Wheel of Time last night. Those people who were saying that it was like reading the first books again haven't read the first books. Except for the fact that it ties up four (by my count) story lines and it confirms a theory I've had for the past -- uh, when did Rand form the Black Tower -- way too many books, it was pretty much like the last four. That means that almost nothing happens and the wait for the end seems even farther away.

A Joke A Lawyer Just Told Me

Him: Did you here that there's a lot of snow in Washington DC?

Me: No.

Him: There's so much snow that Dick Cheney had to take the chains off a detainee to move his car.

Is Funny Better?

Many of you, like me, have probably seen that commercial where Santa goes to a jewelry store and buys a gift for his wife. The lady at the counter asks if she's been nice this year and Santa says she has. And it ends with Santa giving the gift to his wife.

From the first time I saw it, I wish that they had gone for the joke.

What is the joke, some of you may be asking?

The commercial starts exactly the same. The lady asks Santa if Mrs. Claus has been nice. Santa looks at the lady, gives a sly smile, and says, "She's been a little naughty." And it ends with Santa giving the gift to his wife.

How funny would that be? If that's the way the commercial had been when I first saw it, I think I'd've laughed so hard I'd've wet myself.

Funny

Even if you don't take it, read the questions and the answers.

http://www.spacefem.com/quizzes/militantfeminist/

4 Days

On Saturday, I watched Shopgirl at the movie theater. Way back when the book came out there were a couple of you who wondered why I like it so much, well to those of you, who probably don’t remember who you are, I say go see the movie. It captures nearly everything that made the book… spectacular. Yeah, there are a few things that I wish hadn’t been changed. And I think that the few narration moments in the movie would have been better if a woman had done it, but that’s a small complaint. I highly recommend this movie.

On Sunday, I bought the newest Wheel of Time book. It’s called Knife of Dreams. I saw it. It was on sale. So I bought it. Now I’m reading it. From what I’ve read about it, it’s better than the last several. According to those people, it’s like Robert Jordan is actually telling a story again, rather than trying to tie up loose ends.

Today, I’ve spent most of my time at work reading things on the internet. I finished all my work on Friday expecting to box files today, but that can not happen.

Tomorrow, I’ll be doing work again.

Just A Short One

Thanks to the few of you who answered my question.

I'm off in about forty minutes. Tomorrow I'm going to the see a movie. Day after that is all about something else, but I don't know what.

Have a decent time this weekend.

Something I Shouldn’t Use Around My Supervisor, Again

"Will you resurrect this file for me?"

You Ask One Question...

...and only get one answer.

On another note, I didn’t go to work yesterday. I woke up, slid out of bed and onto the floor. I sat there for a while, shivering. I pulled myself up and wobbled around the room and into the bathroom. My face was whiter than usual and drawn. I decided to take my temperature. I grabbed my thermometer, wobbled my way back to my bed, lay down, and popped the thermometer under my tongue. A few minutes later, I pulled it out and looked. 100.2. I knew then that I wasn’t going to work. I put the thermometer near my alarm which I reset and promptly fell asleep.

An hour later, I slid out of bed and wobbled my way to the phone. I called work and said I wouldn’t be coming in. My boss asked my why and I said because my temperature was over a hundred. She said okay.

I wobbled back to bed and didn’t sleep. My whole body ached. My skin was in that horrible hyper sensitive state.

Eventually, I stumbled out to the living room coated myself in all my blankets and turned on the TV. I don’t remember what was on, though.

After noon, I decided to take my temperature again. This time it was 102.3. Not good. I started to get scared. If I kept getting worse, how could I get to the hospital? This is the first time I’ve ever lived on my own. At any other point in my life if I got really sick I had a parent or a roommate who would have driven me, but not now. Now I’d either have to risk driving myself, which I knew was stupid, or call a taxi.

I was just panicking, of course. By seven o’clock, my temperature was down to 99.8 and I knew I’d be going to work the next day, which I did with my body still aching and my skin still being sensitive and a normal temperature.

One good thing came from all of this, though: I didn’t toss my cookies.

Is This True?

Shy and Withdrawn

People think you are shy, nervous, and indecisive. You're thought of as someone who needs looking after... People see you as a worrier who always sees problems that don't exist. Some people think you're boring. Only those who know you well know that you aren't.

How Do People See You?

Me write good.

Me go to Cowtown tomorrow. Eat food. Visit friends and family. Have fun time.

Three Things I Miss About Working At 'Bucks

1) The days where I would get off of work around noon.

Sure, that meant I'd usually be up before 4AM, but one of the greatest things, for me, was driving away as I knew most of the workforce were just in the middle of their work day. I had hours to do anything that I wanted. I had plenty of time to drive to a the city, pick up some comics, eat good food, wander the mall, peruse Boarders, browse Barnes and Nobles, actually buy books at the used book store, and I'd still be home before six. I could go to the movies and pay matinee prices, on a weekday. I didn't have to deal with rush hour traffic. I rarely saw any of the managers because none of them wanted to be there before 8:30. And I liked getting up early and having a hour or so where I was at work, getting paid, but not having to deal with the public.

2) The quick slow-witted people and the slow quick-witted people.

I made (and still make) a lot of strange comments, often without actually thinking before I speak, that some people wouldn't get until a while after I said it. About two-thirds of the people I worked with there were what I liked to call the quick slow-witted people or the slow quick-witted people, depending on how much I like the individual. These were the ones who would hear me say something and either come over to me to tell me that what I said was disgusting or they started laughing after a bit. Here, I have to watch what I say very carefully and the things that do squeeze between my lips either go unnoticed, or over a head, or I get a look that asks me what the hell I mean when I say what I said.

3) Getting to see the beginning, middle, and end.

At 'Bucks, even if I wasn't the one who took the order or made drink, I got to see and experience the whole process at one time or another. There were days when I only took orders and rang up customers and there were days when I only made drinks and there were days when I did both. Here, at this new job, I'm stuck somewhere in the middle of the process. Lawyers and injured workers and insurance companies start the cases and send them in here. In the end, the judges get involved. Me? I shuffle paperwork from my desk to the files and shuffle the files to the judges, but I don't really experience the any kind of conclusion. I'd like to be involved in the whole process. It's the micromanager in me.

Are We Nuts?

Well, it looks like Kansas has gone insane once again.

Song of the Day

Have you ever been listening to music and a song comes on that seems to sum up what the day was or will be?

"Wrap Your Arms Around Me" from the Bare Naked Ladies hit me that way as I walked to work.

Work and Potter

I’m supposed to be doing work that came from another person’s desk.

Guess what she’s doing today.

I’ll give you a hint, read the post from the second.

That’s right, she’s helping the part time secretary with work for one of the judges.

Not only am I supposed to be doing her work, but it’s work that landed on her desk two weeks ago. Two weeks ago was the week when the judges were gone and so was our supervisor. I know about the temptation to slack off. Hell, I did slack off. Before I slacked off, however, I at least took a big chunk out of my work and then I’d read or browse the ‘net or write a letter or simply stare at the pho-wall in front of my computer.

Part of the problem is that I really like the woman whose work I’m doing. I know she’s smart and when she sits down and work, the pages fly away from her desk. Obviously, she hasn’t been working like that for the last two week. And I wouldn’t mind helping out with the extra work if she or her son had gotten sick so she couldn’t do it or if it was work from this week that she couldn’t complete because she’s playing secretary for one of the judges. Neither she nor her son were sick and the work is two weeks old and that makes me a little bit angry and it makes me wish that I could ditch my work ethic and not finish my work when it’s given to me so that huge stacks from my desk could be given to the people I work with so that I can feel rewarded for not actually doing what I’m paid to do.

On another note, how many of you have the previews for the new Harry Potter movie? Probably all of you, but how many of you get disturbed when you see the introduction of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang? What disturbs me is that the previews imply that Beauxbatons is all female and Durmstrang is all male. Now, I could understand Karkaroff thinking that only boys would be good enough for the Triwizard Tornament, but I find it unreasonable that Madame Maxime would only bring girls. I’m sure it won’t have any impact on the story nor will it make me not enjoy the movie, but I liked the idea that, for the most part, wizards have had an equality of the sexes for a long time. Even Voldemort has female deatheater in the highest of their ranks.

Okay, back to work.

Title

I was angry when I left work. Today (and apparently for the whole week, although I wasn’t told until this afternoon), I was told that I’m playing temporary secretary for the one judge who doesn’t have a full time secretary. Sure, he’s the new judge in the building, but he’s been there for nearly six months and he hasn’t found the time to interview secretaries. (Rumor around the OT area is that he wants to hire from within, but since he’s been here for longer than four out of five OTs I think it’s pretty unlikely.) The one he has now has partially comes out of retirement (4-8 hours a week) one or two mornings a week and constantly gets upset at the amount of work she has to do. So, us OTs, at least four of us since one is supposed to permanently help at the front counter, are supposed to help take up slack. I didn’t find out that I was involved in this until about two this afternoon, but I’m getting a bit ahead.

At 11ish, one of the secretaries came to my desk and plopped down a pile of paper work that was about nine inches thick. She also left a thing that’s supposed to help with the alphabetizing of papers. I asked what the pile was for. “[The supervisor] will tell you all about it,” she said to me. The supervisor wasn’t at her desk, she was in a meeting with the PJ, so I couldn’t ask her then. She wasn’t at her desk at noon, when I went on my lunch. When I got back from my lunch at one, she had already left for hers. She didn’t get back until after two and I snagged her as soon as I could.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I pointed to the pile.

“Oh, you’re playing secretary this week,” she said. “If you want to,” she added with a look on her face that implied that I didn’t really have a choice.

I looked at her. I looked at the multi colored pile. I looked at her again.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” she leaned in closer, “but we need you to sort through this pile and get the papers to their proper files.” She paused. “But you don’t have to do it.”

“No, I’m willing to do it, I just don’t know my way around a judge’s area.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Just ask for help if you need it.”

Ask who for help? The judge? He had trials all afternoon and if he really felt like this stuff need to be filed, wouldn’t he have done some of it himself? I knew I could ask one of the other secretaries, but I’ve seen how exasperated they can get when they’re asked too many questions.

“We’re trying,” she said, “to get him caught up before the end of the year. If we do, it’ll keep his rating up, we don’t want it to go down, so it’s important that we help out. You don’t have to if you think you’re too busy, though, but I think it’d be a good thing for you to learn.”

“Yeah, I want to learn my way around some more,” I said. “The more I learn the farther I can go, right?”

“Exactly,” she said and then started to lecture me.

I’m a young man, she told me, who should start thinking about retirement. Thinking about my future family. Thinking about the future. She told me that she started her job with the state (about nine months ago, I found out from the one OT who has been working here for over a year) to really think about retiring with the state’s system. And she went on and on. I didn’t need a lecture, I needed to get started on the damn pile sitting there mocking me.

Eventually, she wore herself out and I got started on the papers.

About half of the papers went into files that are going in front of the judge this week. (A few should have been in front of him in the morning.) About a third of those didn’t have their files anywhere I could find them. I asked a secretary and she told me they might be in his office, but I shouldn’t go in there. Instead, I was suppose to go back to my computer and double check if they’re still going in front of the judge or if they’re somewhere else. Most of them are still supposed to seen by him, but I couldn’t find the files. The secretary who was helping me said the judge wouldn’t be happy with that.

Out of the of the other half, a quarter are going in front of the judge at some future time. A quarter of them now belong in files that have gone to other judges. And the last group went into files that the judge looked at a month ago.

When I got back to my desk at about 4:30, there was a huge pile of work for me that came in with today’s mail. So, I’m expected to help the judge all week, and still handle my normal workload. That upset me because I remember when the last two helped the judge, I was handed a large portion of their work to do so they could focus better on helping the judge.

And, apparently, the judge isn't going to be happy about the stack I couldn't file.

Let’s just hope the week gets better.

The Last for the Week

The week is almost over and I have to admit that I’m a little sad. On Monday, the boss will be back at her desk watching over our shoulders making sure we’re not wasting the state’s time and money by doing things that aren’t work related. She’ll come to my desk while I’m working and give me extra work to make sure I keep working. She’ll come to my desk when I’m not working and give me more work to do. She’ll find me at lunch and interrupt my reading to ask me how work is going. Lawyers and insurance adjusters and injured workers will all be back as well, creating an obnoxious buzz that gets into the air and just won’t drop until the door is locked at five.

If you haven’t guessed, I’ve enjoyed this week with out the public and without the judges and without the supervisor. I’ve been able to write a couple of letters that were much longer than what I usually write. I posted the comics that I’ve been making ever since I moved, including the one today (I finished it a little early this morning).

So, that’s it for this week. I’ll be back next week with who know what.

Oh, there is this:

He's Here!

Cole is now at home, out of his mommy and in her arms, right where he should be.

Read what Daddy Logic has to say and enjoy the pictures.

Sometimes, I Miss Working at 'Bucks.

This week, the judges are gone and so is the supervisor, so we don't expect a rough week. At this moment, no one who doesn't get paid to be here is here. I'm #2, the second person to go up to the counter when someone comes in for help, and I don't expect to have to get up too much to help.

So, I said to the ladies, "When the hoards come, we'll just beat them off with a stick." Then I realized what I said and started to snicker.

The ladies just looked at me and one said, "Okay." They went back to their work.

At 'Bucks, there would have been at least one other person snickering with me.

All the Comics

Everything since the last one that was posted.

Fixation

I’ve been fixating on this for over an hour. So, I’m hoping that if I put it down on paper (or bits of data, or ones and zeros, or whatever) that I’ll stop and actually be able to sleep tonight.

Yesterday morning, an injured worker (not necessarily injured now, but he was and that’s what we call all the people who come in who are trying to get money), without a lawyer, came in to schedule a walk-thru for this afternoon (we need at least 24 hours to set up a walk-thru). That, in itself, was odd because, as I’ve been told, 99% of the walk-thrus are scheduled by the defense. So, I go and speak with him, take his file and look his info up on the computer. There was no case for the date of injury on his form. That meant I had to create it, except he didn’t have any of the medical files which need to be there in advance. I told him, he called the lawyers for the defense. I spoke with the lawyers for the defense. They told me I was wrong. I told them I wasn’t. They asked if they could fax the 100+ pages of the meds. I said no, we can’t accept faxes from outside. They spoke with the injured worker again and convinced him to go home and let them fax the documents to him. He hung up and said he’d be back in the afternoon.

Around 3:15, he came back with the meds. A walk-thru can be scheduled for either 8:30 AM or 1:30 PM and needs to be scheduled 24 hours in advance. I went to the walk-thru judge’s secretary and asked her if it would be okay to set it up, she said it would. I had the injured worker fill out the walk-thru paper and said it’d be all set up for tomorrow. I went back to my desk, created a file, and gave it to the judge’s secretary.

Today, I got back from my lunch a little after two, since I didn’t start my lunch until a little after one, and my supervisor charged over to my desk before I was able to put my Tupperwarish stuff in my bag. She had the file I had created for the walk-thru in her hand and started to tell me things that the judge said that I didn’t understand. Finally, she told me what the judge wanted, which was a separate file for each DOI on the form. The problem was that five of the DOIs weren’t on the line that they should have been on, they were on the line where the injured body parts are supposed to be listed. After she got done frantically explaining the problem to me I asked her what I was supposed to do with the files when I finished, she said I was to hold on to them until tomorrow when the official address record would be printed out. Thirty minutes later, all the files were created and placed on my little thing where I put finished files waiting for OARs.

I took my last break at three, when it’s scheduled, even though I’d only been back for an hour, and got back at 3:15. One of the other OTs (that’s my title) told me that the judge had come and taken all the files I’d just created because they needed them right away. I said okay and finally started to work on the major filing that I offered to help one of the judge’s secretaries with. While filing, the judge who had me create the new files came out into the hall (I think he was taking a break from the people in the room) and told me that he doesn’t blame me for what happened.

“I don’t blame you,” he said.

And that’s where I get troubled. See, I don’t like the sentence “I don’t blame you.” I don’t like it because when you say it you’re at least saying that you considered blaming me for something. If you really don’t blame me, they why would you feel the need to say this damn sentence? You do blame me, don’t you? If you want to tell me that I screwed up, tell me I screwed up. I can handle it. I’m not fragile. In fact, if you were honest with me and just told me that I blew it, I wouldn’t be her obsessing about this stupid problem. Blame me. I don’t mind because that means I’ll ask you to teach me so I don’t screw up in the same way later. I learn just fine that way.

Okay, I feel a little better. Hopefully I’ll be able to forget about it this later and sleep will come peacefully and be restful.

George Carlin on New Orleans

Been sitting here with my ass in a wad, wanting to speak out about the bullshit going on in New Orleans. For the people of New Orleans... First I would like to say, Sorry for your loss. With that said, let's go through a few hurricane rules: (Unlike an earthquake, we know it's coming)

#1. A mandatory evacuation means just that...Get the hell out. Don't blame the government after they tell you to go. If they hadn't said anything, I can see the argument. They said get out... if you didn't, it's your fault, not theirs. (I don't want to hear it, even if you don't have a car, you can get out.)

#2. If there is an emergency, stock up on water and non-perishables. If you didn't do this, it's not the Government's fault you're starving.

#2a. If you run out of food and water, find a store that has some. (Remember, shoes, TV's, DVD's and CD's are not edible. Leave them alone.)

#2b. If the local store has been looted of food or water, leave your neighbor's TV and stereo alone. (See #2a) They worked hard to get their stuff. Just because they were smart enough to leave during a mandatory evacuation, doesn't give you the right to take their stuff...it's theirs, not yours.

#3. If someone comes in to help you, don't shoot at them and then complain no one is helping you. I'm not getting shot to help save some dumb ass who didn't leave when told to do so.

#4. If you are in your house that is completely under water, your belongings are probably too far gone for anyone to want them. If someone does want them, let them have them and hopefully they'll die in the filth. Just leave! (It's New Orleans, find a voodoo warrior and put a curse on them)

#5. My tax money should not pay to rebuild a 2 million dollar house, a sports stadium or a floating casino. Also, my tax money shouldn't go to rebuild a city that is under sea level. You wouldn't build your house on quicksand would you? You want to live below sea-level, do your country some good and join the Navy.

#6. Regardless of what the Poverty Pimps Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton want you to believe, The US Government didn't create the hurricane as a way to eradicate the black people of New Orleans; (Neither did Russia as a way to destroy America). The US Government didn't cause global warming that caused the hurricane (We've been coming out of an ice age for over a million years).

#7. The government isn't responsible for giving you anything. This is the land of the free and the home of the brave, but you gotta work for what you want. McDonalds and Wal-Mart are always hiring, get a damn job and stop spooning off the people who are actually working for a living.

President Kennedy said it best..."Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country." Thank you for allowing me to rant.

Strange Dream

My in-box is empty. My boss is away at lunch. The other co-workers have decided it's okay to waste this time. So, I'm wasting it too.

I had this strange dream last night. I was being forced to live in a judge's house. (I don't know if it's one of the judges here or not. The judge was only referred to as The Judge.) I had all my boxes in my room, which my parent's cats (past and present) had chosen for me by curling up together on the bed. Some kid came in and started to sing that Hillary Duff song that came out with the Lizzie McGuire Movie (I think it's called "So Yesterday") and he wouldn't shut up. So I grabbed his arm and pulled him out onto this huge bridge (sort of like the Bay Bridge, that long but more narrow like for only six or seven people standing side by side) and threatened to push him off if he didn't stop singing the song. He wouldn't stop and I couldn't push. The Sprite, one of my parent's cats, ran across the bridge, leaped and knocked the kid over the edge and into the bay below then trotted home. I stared at her and woke up.

Strange, huh?

I don't know what else to say right now. So, I'm gonna munch on some Cheez-Its and read my book.

Day Off

I had Columbus Day off. Isn't that weird? A day celebrating the man who brought Europe's version of slavery to a new continent just so he could get rich. I know he's my hero.

On another note, not that anyone's asked, I am keeping up with my comics. I have five for the last five weeks that I haven't posted them sitting on my hard drive. Why haven't I posted them, because a few stolen minutes of time to post this isn't quite enough to do the comics.

Halfey Birthday Mom

I wanted to say that to her today

And I wanted to let you all know that I will not be getting regular internet until next month. I know that I’ve written that it’ll be this month, but it can’t be. I have to be sure of the money situation before I can get some real internet connection. See, I just got my PG&E bill this month and on it was a $120 deposit. A deposit for what, I don’t know. Since the power was on in my apartment before I got there I guess it’s not the line into the apartment building from the pole, now is it. Well, that disappearing money made me squinch up inside, deciding to wait on internet unsquinched me.

So, from now until I get connected at my place, I’ll try to write two or three things each week. Maybe long ones the night before then dumped online at work or maybe short ones here at work in a stolen few minutes. (Which is what this one here is.)

Daily

I have a few minutes before I go off and learn what an applicant has to go through when they file their papers here. Because of this class, or whatever, I’m going to miss my usual break, at 10 AM today, so I took it upon myself to take my break early and do a little blogging.

The oddest thing about this job, for me at least, is that it has the same routine every single day. I get up at the same time (or nine minutes later if I hit the snooze) every day. I eat and shower and leave at the same time each morning. I get to work and turn on my computer within the same three minutes each day. I turn on my computer and start my working at 8 AM. 10 AM I have a fifteen minute break. 1 PM I have lunch for an hour. 3 PM I have another fifteen minute break. 5 PM I shut down Windows and leave for the day.

I haven’t had this much structure in my life since I was in high school. Five days a week I do the same thing over and over again.

Even the work is repetitive. Same kind of forms and papers come in. I decide which ones require me to open a new case, which ones I need to pull files for, and which ones I just drop into the file. After I decide which ones require which, I pull the files I need. After that, I put the information on line and start new cases. Some papers just get dropped into the files that line our walls. Some get rubber banded to existing files and dropped into judges’ mail boxes. The rest I pull empty files for and set the new file up; I can’t complete the new ones until the next morning because an address record needs to be printed out and for some reason that happens over night.

I don’t really like this much structure.

Hope you’re all well.

I’m trying for that regular internet connection, but I need to see how much I’m already spending each month before I spend even more.

Here

I'm here.

I'm okay.

My job is boring.

I haven't checked my e-mail, yet.

This is all you get until I get an internet connection. That probably won't happen until October.

Gone

Tomorrow, I head out of here.

Tomorrow, there's a long drive for me and my parents

Tomorrow, I move my crap into my apartment.

Tonight will be the last time I have a regular connection to the internet for, probably, a month. I'll try to post when I can, but the computers at work are more ancient than the one my parent's have and I don't think they want us distracted.

For those who want and address and phone number, e-mail me and I'll get it to you as soon as I can.

See you in a while.

Hurricanes

I made this yesterday because it's what I kept thinking about.

AAAAAAAARGH!

I got off the phone with The Manager at 'Bucks a little while ago. She was trying to convince me to work today (fat chance) and to stay.

"I know you were looking for something new," she said, "but if I could arrange it for you to be promoted in a month or two, would you stay?"

I paused for a while before saying, "I already took the job and found a place to live. Plus it's a huge increase in pay. I can't turn it down now."

"Well," she said, "if you ever want to come back, come and see me first. I'll rehire you as a shift supervisor."

"Thanks."

"I just wanted you to know what I thought of you and how much I want you to stay."

"Thanks," I said wanting to vomit.

"Okay," she said, "I'll see you Monday."

"Yeah," I said and hung up the phone.

I immediately took a shower.

Gas Prices Have Hit $3.159 In Cowtown

Monday was up too early and sitting on my ass too long. I actually showed up at the airport two hours early, 4:30 in the morning, just in case. I spent over an hour waiting to board the plane. That sucked.

There was a layover in Houston. I had quite a march from one terminal to the other. On the way I counted four(!) ‘Bucks and saw a goofy statue of Bush the first, made of bronze, with a flutter tie and a jacket sticking straight out behind him. Crazy.

I sat near a guy who was scared of flying on the way into Pittsburgh. I know how lucky I was to have his wife sitting between us. When we got further east and flew over a huge cloudbank, he started to freak out a little. “Can you see the land?” he asked me. (I sat by the window on all my flights.) The clouds stretched out as far as I could see and when I answered, he paled. When we stared to make our landing run, his eyes were glued on the window and he was squeezing his wife’s hand.

I got off the plane on time and didn’t see Heels. So I went to where I thought she might been. She wasn’t there. Ten or fifteen minutes later, I went back into the building and walked to the escalator I came down and heard my name called. And there she was, looking pregnant, but not quite finished, we’ll know when the baby’s done when her belly button pops like a turkey timer. That’s my theory, at least.

We headed back to her and Johnny Logic’s place for pizza (I requested no mushrooms and was informed that in Pittsburgh all pizza places put canned(!) mushrooms on their pizzas.) and much talking.

Let me say, I had three goals for my weekend with them: 1. Spend time with Johnny Logic and Heels. 2. Give them my baby gift. 3. Visit the Warhol Museum.

Saturday, I woke up early, which surprised me. (Maybe everyone else?) Heels was already awake, we sat at the table and talked, then read, then talked some more. (It seems to me that most of the talking was about the past. Which makes sense, since I’ve know both of them for a long time and I spend a lot of time thinking about my past, over analyzing it and imagining how things could have been better and such.) After Mr. Logic got up a discussion of the day’s events was had. It was decided that we should go to the French bakery for breakfast and a movie after and then the Warhol.

We saw Broken Flowers, with Bill Murray. It’s the story of an aging Don Juan who has never faked his own death to see all the women who had loved him. I like it a lot. Bill Murray is spectacular, but the guy who played his friend stole the show. The movie was very bitter sweet, which is my favorite way to take sweet movies.

As we walked out, Heels and I dropped Johnny Logic off at the bathroom, we heard a lady say, “That movie was awful. Bill Murray from Scrooged, that’s the Bill Murray I like. Why doesn’t he make more movies like that?” Heels looked at me and I looked at her, we both smiled and started to laugh. One of us, I’m not sure who, pointed out how strange it is to go see the same movie with so many other people and to have seen a completely different movie. When Mr. Logic came out, we heard her sharing her love of the movie with the guy who takes the tickets. “That movie,” she said, “was the worst movie I have ever seen. That was the worst movie ever made.” I’m sure the ticket guy was going to tell everyone he saw what she thought.

By that time, we were all hungry, so we went to a bird named restaurant and ate. By then, it was too late to see the Warhol. So, we did a drive through tour of Mr. Logic’s school, it was raining, and the downtown. Then we went back to their place. Heels was very, very tired, and took a nap. Johnny and I watched one of their movies, The Borne Identity. I enjoyed it quite a bit; it was a surprisingly smart action film. So, we popped in the sequel.

After the movie, we stayed up even later than the night before talking.

Sunday, The Andy Warhol Museum! (And, later, a baby shower.)

The museum started on the top floor with a John Waters (the director) exhibit. It was mostly photographs he’d taken at his films and strange comparisons of actors and actress to Divine. The best part was the John Waters Curates Andy Warhol’s Porn. Watching old people with very serious expressions watch three girls going down on a guy made me giggle. It was like they were looking for hidden meaning in a blowjob, as opposed to the visceral reaction porn is for.

The rest of the museum was pretty much devoted to Warhol’s stuff. Lots of prints, since that was his thing, but there were other things too. Some painting and sketches. I love looking at quick sketches. They all look so free. Unrushed. Like the artist had no other thought about the work but to get it out. My favorite piece, however, was a self portrait print which is a profile in red, but only a little bit of color for an outline, the rest is white. I’m not sure why I like it so much, but I do.

We moved through the museum a little faster than I would have liked, but we had a baby shower to get for and we had to be on time, since it was for Heels and (to a lesser extent) Johnny Logic.

One word can describe how it was for me: boring. But I was there for my friends, so I did my best to hide my thoughts. The decorations were awful; although it was funny when the hostess asked if the baby was a boy like all her decorations said. (It is a boy, for those who don’t know.) The food was pretty good, though. I was warned early on that the people at the party would be more on the conservative side, so I decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to wear my “Republicans for Voldemort” shirt. I also had to hold my tongue a lot. One time, I started to say something, three words had escaped my lips before I stopped myself and said, “I’m sorry.” One lady looked at me like she would have liked to hear what I was going to say, but there was no way Heels would have forgiven me if I had said it; many bruises would I have had to live with on the flight back if I had.

Watching Heels open presents was fun. Lots of clothes, a diaper sausage maker, a rocking chair, bibs, and a couple of books. The books were from me; my two favorite Dr. Seuss works, McElligots Pool and Fox in Socks. It was funny that whenever something was unwrapped that had a bear on it the person giving the gift would say, “I know you said you don’t like Teddy Bears, but it was just so cute.” And Heels would say, “Oh, that’s okay, he has a bear sitting in his crib waiting for him. I gave it to my grandmother when I was a kid and now she’s given it back for the baby.” She wasn’t thrilled with the bears, though.

After the party it was back to the house for more jibber jabber, mostly about family, if I remember correctly, and then bed for another early flight. (The only reason it was so early was because originally my parent’s were going to drop me off and pick me up and I didn’t think they’d like to pick me up at 11PM and then have to go to work the next day. It didn’t work out, though.)

The flight back was fine. Katrina didn’t make landfall until a few hours into it and didn’t effect the weather in Houston. The drive back was long and hot and on the hills, my car started to make troubling chugging sounds. I haven’t driven it since.

Strange, isn’t it, how people can spend a weekend together and experience it so differently?

So Long August

A place to live has been found.

Now, off with me to sleep.

Tomorrow, words on another city.

Forgot

Sorry, I don't really have time for tales of my trip today.

I'm heading off to Redtown with my mom to look for a place to live this afternoon through the time we leave tomorrow (probably about 24 hours after we leave here).

So, my take on the trip will be around later this week, but for now you can read Heels's version here.

There and Back Again

Been back a bit, but want to let my brain firm up before I write about it. So, you have to wait for details. Know, however, that I had fun.

Face Time

Be back on Monday.

Take a Look

Because it still makes me laugh when I see it.

Good News, Everyone.

Some people think that I should have put this up yesterday, but yesterday, I just woke up, ate breakfast, and went to work. So, here's the news now:

I got hired at that job in Redtown. I start on the 12th. That means major apartment shopping next week, during some time off from work that I scheduled two months ago (I think).

More importantly, the last day I can be scheduled at 'Bucks is September 5th and I'm taking vacation from tomorrow (Thursday, for those who don't know.) until next Friday!

People at work seem more excited about my new job than me. I think that there are two reasons for this. The first is that I have to find a place to live, once that happens I'm sure I'll be more excited about the job. The second is that I'm extra super excited about visiting Heels and Johnny Logic (who hasn't updated in a while, maybe I'll finally understand what the hell he's studying) this weekend! That's right, I fly out early Friday and pester them for three nights sleep! That's what I'm excited about right now.

Sittin'

I sat on the steps near the front porch for about twenty minutes tonight, petting the cats and thinking.

Somewhere along the way, I think I dropped the ball and haven't been able to find it to pick up.

This Week's

I felt like this all week.

Wanna Go!

The more I think about it, the more I want to go and see Wicked again. Too bad I could only find tickets for $200 or more. Sometimes, rarely though, I wish I lived in New York.

For Me?

Yesterday, just as I started my break, The Manager called to speak with Assistant Manager #1. There were only three people on the floor, so there was no way I was going to pull her off the floor and lose my first break (only ten minute break, actually, even though I was there for eight hours).

So, The Manager decided to chat with me. All I wanted to do was read my book, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.

"I'm at a job fair," she said.

"I thought we were having a job fair here tomorrow?" I asked.

"We are, but I want to find tons of people. I'm going to hire tons of great people for you."

Basing "great" on the other hires she's made this summer, the word has fallen in meaning.

"Uh-huh," I said, trying to read while on the phone with her.

"Really," she said, "I'm hiring them for you."

"Yeah."

"No, I really am because I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay and be happy."

And here's the point where I could have, and probably should have, gotten into it with her, again. She knows that the main reason I'm unhappy is because there's no place for me to go in the store. I can't be promoted in this store unless we lose two shift supervisors, The Manager told me. There is no way that two of them are leaving. The one that they want to get rid of is getting paid more than $11 and hour; the next highest person, one who started with this store as a shift supervisor with 'Bucks's base pay, would be about $9.16 an hour; a bit difference. He's not leaving and he's not going to demote himself and lose some pay. None of the others are going to step down, and they shouldn't have to, they're pretty good. So, if I was to be promoted, I'd have to go to the next closest store, which is over 30 miles away from our store, way too far away to make an extra dollar an hour worth the drive; I'd spend more than that in gas money each trip.

Plus, there's that whole thing about our store getting a third assistant manager (which will be an outside hire, of course, since they haven't spoken to the shift supervisor we have who should be promoted), when we're not making enough money to pay for one, which would mean that for me to be promoted we'd need to lose three shift supervisors. Don't I feel better.

So, I said, "Uh-huh."

"Well," she said, "I'm doing it for all of us, I suppose. But I do want you to stay, really."

"Yeah," I said. "I'm on a ten. I'll tell [Assistant Manager #1] you called. She'll call you back in a bit."

"Sure, 'bye."

"'Bye," I said and hung up the phone.

I've been mulling this conversation over in my head all day. I could have been nicer, more interested, but I also could have been much more short with her. I'm sick of all the bullshit going on. I know The Manager wants me to know that she appreciates having me there and thinks I do a good job, but what good do words and empty promises do me?

Another Quiz

the Cutting Edge (66% dark, 53% spontaneous, 36% vulgar)

your humor style: CLEAN | SPONTANEOUS | DARK Your humor's mostly innocent and off-the-cuff, but somehow there's something slightly menacing about you. Part of your humor is making people a little uncomfortable, even if the things you say aren't themselves confrontational. You probably have a very dry delivery, or are seriously over-the-top. Your type is the most likely to appreciate a good insult and/or broken bone and/or very very fat person dancing. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: David Letterman - John Belushi

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 73% on dark You scored higher than 80% on spontaneous You scored higher than 60% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

Last Week's

I always smile at this sign. I'm not sure why.

TV

So, I've noticed that a lot of Fridays this summer Fox has been showing two hours of Arrested Development. It's schedule jerked around so much this season that I only saw the first three or four of the season while I still lived in Cowcity. Then I moved back here, where there is no TV hooked up. Sometimes, I like not having TV (apparently, my dad uses the no TV thing as a point of pride with his friends), I read more, write (but don't finish anything) more, I don't zone out as much. But there are shows that I like to watch. I missed half of the Gilmore Girls this season, probably five episodes of Veronica Mars, nearly all of Lost, and at least half of Star Trek: Enterprise in it's best season. So, that's five shows that I like to watch, one of which is gone next season. That's not too bad, is it? I miss the characters and the stories. I miss being able... I guess I just miss TV. I think I wrote that before, but right now, knowing about Arrested Development on tonight really makes me miss the shows that I like.

What To Say About Wicked?

Wicked is, on one level, an attempt to answer the debate over nature vs. nurture. Elsewhere, it's about growing up, or the lengths people go to gain power, or how some idealists are forced to do bad things to get their message across, or how fear unites people, or how much people just want to be liked by others. But, mostly, Wicked is about a friendship between two very different girls.

Elphaba, who eventually becomes the Wicked Witch of the West, was born green and was always very smart and, therefore, immediately is disliked by everyone. Galinda, later Glinda the Good, was blonde and beautiful and, therefore, immediately liked by everyone. They met at Shiz, an Ozian University, and were forced to be roommates. One day, Galinda accidently did something nice for Nessarose, Elphaba's sister, which led Elphaba to do a kind thing for Galinda who then realized that just because she has a creepy skin color doesn't mean that Elphaba was a bad person and Galinda helped to get Elphaba accepted by the other students. And they started to become friends, sometimes despite their differences and sometimes because of them.

From there, the audience watches the making of a wicked witch and development of one of the most unlikely, but wonderful, friendships I've ever seen.

I've read and enjoyed the novel (Wicked by Gregory Maguire) which the play is based on and was worried that I'd hate the play, but I didn't. They cut down some of the plots to focus on the friendship between the two witches and I think that was a smart move. I liked Elphaba from the start, probably because she's a lot like me, and couldn't stand Galinda, but as their friendship grew, I saw Galinda grow as a person as her love for Elphaba grew and I ended up liking Galinda as much as Elphaba did. One of the songs they sing together (I lost my playbill, so I can't give the title, sorry) they say to each other that they're not sure if knowing the other changed them for the better, but it changed them for good. I think that's a great statement for their friendship.

The second really smart thing that the play did was mix it up with the mythology everyone knows from the Judy Garland movie, rather than the books, like Maguire did. We see the creation of the Cowardly Lion (which actually is in the book), the Tin Woodsman, and the Scarecrow. That was fun for most of the audience because it really put the story in the Oz that they've know for their whole lives. For me, who's read many of the Baum books, I found the creation of the Scarecrow and Tin Woodsman distracting because my insides were screaming, "That's not how it happened in the Oz books, dammit!" I got over it, for the most part.

Dorothy is in the play, but you never see her. She takes Nessarose's shoes, she weeps in the castle, and she melts the Elphaba, but the audience is never allowed to see her or get to know her. If we did get to see Dorothy, would we have a harder time seeing Elphaba as a decent, but flawed, person? If we saw her, would it ruin the original that so beloved because she melts the hero of the play? I'm not sure, but maybe.

The sets were simply amazing. A giant moving puppet/robot head for the Wizard to speak out of. An enormous clock face with moving gears. A huge map of Oz as the curtain. A giant bubble for Glinda to fly down on. Flying monkeys. And a witch that flies because of a broom.

My only problem with the play, which is usually my problem with everything, is the ending. Maguire ends his book in the way he has to. I'm going to put it here for you all to see:

And of the Witch? In the life of a Witch, there is no after, in the ever after of a Witch, there is no happily; in the story of a Witch, there is no afterword. Of that part that is beyond the life story, beyond the story of life, there is--alas, or perhaps thank mercy--no telling. She was dead, dead and gone, and all that was left of her was the carapace of her reputation for malice.

For me, it was like seeing/reading Rozencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. These characters have to die because it's written. The play, however, ends on a much happier note. I'm sure most of the audience was pleased with this, but sometimes isn't it nice to have things end in a way that's not so perfect?

So, go and see and enjoy. It's not the Oz you grew up. It's better.

Amazing

The play was absolutely spectacular. If you have the money and a day to get to The Bay (or NY, if you're on that side of the country) go and see Wicked.

I'll try to do a better post on it tomorrow. I'm tired now.

Play

Tomorrow, I'm off to see Wicked in The Bay. I adore the book and hope that the play lives up to it.

Brief Interview

JtI: So, how's work been going.

JtA: Well, I've been having a recurring fantasy that a guy comes into the store with a gun to rob the place. He yells and screams and waves his gun around a lot. The cops arrive and he decided to take everyone hostage, which is silly, considering most of the front of the store is window, but I digress. To prove to the police he's serious, he shoots me in the head.

JtI: Uhh... That's all the time we have, folks.

Funny-ish

Always strange, but that's what I like.


One of the best looking strips out there. I wish it was in US alternatives.


I pulled this from Scott McCloud, who, I think, pulled it off of this site, who, apparently, claimed this guy was the creator. Is it wrong to stare at?


This one's the background for my desktop right now.

Hours and Hearts

I was given ten hours more than I want next week. Tomorrow, I'm going to try to pawn one of the days off on SRMB. He'll probably take it because he's rarely given more than 15-20 hours a week, since he sucks and never should have been hired in the first place. It's too bad you can't fire someone for incompetence without the fear of being sued anymore.

One of my uncles is in the hospital and my parent's went down with my aunt to somewhere near Joe's Ville yesterday before I got back from my interview. Last I heard no one knew exactly what the problem is, only that it has to do with his heart, so he's being moved to another hospital for lots of tests. I hope nothing too bad is going on. I don't want there to be any chest cracking involved.

Interview

I think it went well. It was brought up, by the head judge guy, not the woman who would be my direct supervisor, that I don't have much office experience, but he seemed to warm up to me. The two lady's in there were really nice, but let the judge ask all the question.

I wouldn't mind working there, even though the city has over 100,000 people.

Oh, I forgot to say that I won't hear anything back until after the 16th because the judge is going on vacation. Long wait.

It's Comicing Time

One for last week and one for this week.

I Don't Know

So, there was no crazy phone call today. That's good because I haven't answered the phone before the machine picks up in two weeks and that means my mom would have answered it and gotten the earful. (I pre-apologized to her on the way home last night.) It's bad because she might be saving up for tomorrow night, which is a dinner for a cousins birthday, to nail me in person.

Wait, she isn't like that. It would be rude to ruin someone else's night. So it won't happen.

I have an interview on Thursday in Redtown. I don't want to be disappointed when I don't get the job, but I want it so bad. I have no idea what I'd be doing and I've even forgotten what the place is, but I need to get out of this place and into some where different.

That evil question keeps coming up, "What do you want to do?" My uncle asked me last night. In my brain, I have an answer, it's just not one that anyone wants to hear. So, I say, "I don't know." Are you who keep asking me what I want sick of that answer? If so, quit asking the evil question. Please, I'm sick of hearing it and I'm about to fall into the sarcastic.

I'm tired. I'm going to sleep soon. First, though, I'm going to finish an article about Serenity, the movie I'm most looking forward to this fall. The week before the movie, I'm planning on watching all of Firefly again.

'Night.

Guess Who's Stuck At Dinner

I didn't bring a book. That's the biggest problem.

The first, of the very few rules I have for my life is: "Always bring a book." I usually do.

Tonight, I didn't.

But I didn't know.

I thought that we were just stopping by dropping off gifts. I thought that after the opening, we would be off for home. I didn't expect that we'd be here for dinner, and the cooking of dinner, and the preparation of dinner.

So, we've been here for over an hour now, my mom and me. I'm bored. I watched some TV with my cousins, but they kept flipping the channels in the middle of the show. I'm only a channel flipper during the commercials. It's like a race to see how many times I can get through all the channels before the show starts up again, but once the show starts, I watch. My cousins don't.

That's when I got up and spoke with Mom, quietly so my grandma couldn't hear us, to see if we were staying for dinner and found out I'm stuck.


Every day I've worked for the past two weeks, Mom has asked me to tell her one good thing about the day. Usually, I just tell her about the day and she points out something good, or better than expected.

Today, after asking her about dinner, she asked me. My answer was getting to leave. My grandma said, "Now, I don't believe that. You need to focus on the positive things that..." It was the beginning of a lecture that I don't want to hear, considering I heard more bad news at work. Fortunately, my mom interrupted her, distracting her with a question about dinner. Thank you, Mom.

I escaped the kitchen/dining room and perused the bookshelf. Not much that interests me there. How many volumes of Reader's Digest versions of books do you need? A 200 page version of War and Peace? That's nuts. So I headed to the computer to play solitaire.

Ten games later and I'm sitting at my grandma's computer, typing about how much I don't want to be here. I can hear my mom, my grandma, and my uncle talk about things. The topics may be different, but it always ends with Grandma lecturing. She doesn't know how to have an active conversation. She constantly interrupts the person speaking, often saying something similar to what the original speaker was going to say.

Once, my grandparents paid me to come down and help with cleaning the yard and one day was spent pulling nails from the wood that was once a roof. Grandma joined me. And she spoke at me. Topics ranged from the president (Clinton at the time) to single mothers to the greatness of Rush Limbah (or however you spell that blow-hard's name) to people needing religion to save society and on and on. I don't think I said more than twenty words to her in five hours of nail pulling. When I got home, my mom had already spoken with my grandma who said, "I just love speaking with him." I figure the only reason is because I didn't say much and that made her thing that I agreed with her, which I didn't.

Tomorrow, she'll probably read this and have some choice words for my mother about people being polite and things that should be said in private and how not to say anything if you have nothing to say.

To that I say, I don't need a lecture. Get over yourself. You don't have to read this page if you don't want to.

Soon it will be time for dinner. Wish me luck.

A Year, Probably

Yesterday, while talking with one of my relatives, answering the unanswerable question, “What do you want to do?” I realized that I have information about my work:

I am not going to be promoted.

A week and a half ago, I had a talk with The Manager. She wanted to know why I was cutting my hours at work. (I don’t want to work anymore than 25 a week.) I told her it’s because I hate the place and it’s making me hate the people I work with and I don’t want that. Why? Because she told me, when we found our Mr. Asshole was going to be our DM, that I had no chance of being promoted. She insisted she never said that. Then she insisted that, if in fact she had, it was a joke. Then she said that she didn’t know I wanted to be promoted. I said I did and asked what I’d have to do to get there. She said that no one in the store is going to be promoted until two shift supervisors are gone. Fired, quit, promoted, or demoted. What are the odds of that happening? Zero. But, she said, there will be a new store in The Town That Jack’s Son Built in nine months that’ll need supervisors, especially ones who know what they’re doing. I’m not movie to that town for an extra buck an hour, and I’m definitely not driving the 100-120 mile (I haven’t measured) round trip for shit pay. No one who lives in Cowtown is going to make that drive, and, probably, none of them want to move their either. Well, she said, they’re talking about opening a store in The Town of Jim in a year, probably. And then she suggested that I work there.

A year? I asked.
A year. I said.

And I walked away from her.

So, I am not going to be promoted.

Unless I wait a year, probably.

A Story In As Many Parts As It Takes, The Finale

Ada's Dance

Almost the End In the Middle Near the Beginning In the Beginning


“No worries,” said Chip, picking himself up and dusting himself off.

Ada couldn’t look away. She had run into Chip? How? Why? Was this supposed to be funny? She looked through the haze, but couldn’t see, what she was sure was, Derrick’s smiling--probably laughing--face. What a jerk. She couldn’t believe he would do something like this. She couldn’t believe she had come to this dance with him. How did that jackass convince her to come with him? Never again, she thought. She’d never, ever, do something like this for Derrick.

“Need some help?”

Ada blinked, “What?”

“Do you need some help up?” Chip asked, offering his hand to her.

“Uh... sure.” She took his hand--his firm, calloused, manly hand--and felt him pull her up. A chill ran though her body. This was it, her moment. Time to make him hers. “Thanks.”

“That was pretty wild, huh?” When she was almost to her feet, he grabbed her other hand.

“Sure.” She started to feel sweaty.

“The way you came crashing into, out of no where, you know?” His hands squeezed hers.

“Yeah.” Her stomach folded into itself.

“What happened? Did you trip?” He put one of his hands on her waist.

The music changed to a faster song. Ada’s heart beat was faster than the beat of the song. Three things were going through her mind: touching Chip; not blowing chunks on perfection in a black shirt; and how it was too dark to get a look at his eyes. She didn’t know what color his eyes were and wanted to know.

“Well, my friend, sort of--”

“There you go, back on your feet, right?” he asked, taking his hands off her. “Don’t I know you?”

“Yeah, we’re in, uh, math together.” She wanted to pull his hands back to her body.

“Right. You’re the smart one, right?”

“Not really. I’m more of a music--”

He eyed her in a way that made her knees wiggle and said, “You don’t look as fat here, you know? More pudgy than whaley, right?”

“Really?” She felt her whole body flush. “I didn’t think that you ever noticed me in class.”

“Sure, you always have your hand up and sit in front of me, don’t you? How could I have not noticed?” He started looking around the room.

“Actually, I sit behind you and to the--”

“Yeah, did you seen where Debbie went?” he asked, still scanning the room.

Debbie? Why was he asking about Debbie? Ada thought he should be focused on her, not some slut who only like him for his looks. He need some one who could look beyond his perfect hair, wide shoulders, and rippled stomach. He need someone like her. She knew she could look beyond those things, in time, and learn to lust after the rest of him as much as she lusted for what she could see.

“I don’t think she went down in the crash, do you? She’d have been under me, right?”

“You mean she hasn’t been under you?” Ada asked.

“What?”

“Nothing. I, uh, I don’t see her anywhere.” She admired the silhouette of his jaw as the lights from the DJ booth lowered.

“Your name, it’s like that song, right?”

“Uh--”

“Yeah, that song barbershops sing.” He started to sing, “Sweet Adeline, my Adeline. Right?”

Ada grimaced, “Right, but I go by Ada.” Because she hated that song. That song was the number one thing she hated most because people had been singing to her since her birth. Every new teacher she’d had sang it. Every person her parent’s introduced her to sang it. Every friend she’d ever made sang it to her when they first met, except for Derrick. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if people actually knew what came after the line with her name. Maybe.

“Sure. Yeah, I remember. Yeah. Where is she?”

“Were you dancing close?”

“Huh? No, she said she’s not big on slow dances. She likes the stuff where she can move, you know? She says it’s the way dancing should be.”

If I tits like hers,thought Ada, I’d be afraid of falling out of my dress. Of course, that may be just what she wants.

“That’s probably why she didn’t get knocked over.”

“I guess.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t dancing close together. It seemed to me that she liked to push her body up against yours.” Ada took a small step toward Chip.

“Yeah, sure.”

“So, would you, um, like to, uh, dance with me?” She took another small step.

“What?”

“Just until she gets back?”

“Okay, sure,” he said and started to move.

To Ada, it looked like he was trying not to vomit while holding in an enormous crap. She was a bit scared, but wanted to dance with him. She started to move. Who cared what other people thought, she was dancing with Chip, every girl’s dream. This girl’s reality.

“Chip!” A shrill voice came from the darkness behind Ada. “Where are you? CHIP!”

She stopped moving and turned around. Debbie. Shit. Debbie, with her carefully mussed blonde hair and a Wonder Bra, walking to where she and Chip were dancing together. The only person who could ruin the moment short of Jesus coming back and bringing the end of the world with him.

Ada stepped back, trying to hide in the darkness as Debbie strode up to Chip.

“Where were you?” she asked, shoving him.

“What?” he asked as he stopped dancing. “I’ve been right here.”

“‘Right here’?” She shoved him again. “You should have been with me.” She stepped close to him. “Some geek in a Garfield tie pulled me away and danced with me. With me! Without asking!” She put her arm around his neck. “Don’t let that happen again!” And she kissed him, hard, on the mouth.

“I won’t.” He kissed her.

“Promise.”

“I promise, alright?” They kissed again.

Debbie started to grind her hips into his. Chip started to grind back.

Ada’s eyes felt heavy, but she wasn’t going to cry. Not over him. Not over the guy who picked her up from the floor. Not over the guy who wanted to dance with her. Not over perfection. She breathed in a ragged breath. She wouldn’t cry. Not her.

She wanted out. Her vision was blurry, she couldn’t see where she was going, but started to walk anyway. She bumped into a couple, stumbled through a circle of people, and got a full on blast of fake smoke before she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Ada?”

“Derrick?”

“H-here,” he said, putting her coat over her shoulders. “L-let’s get out of h-here.”

Potter

I tried to resist, but I couldn't.

Yesterday, I bought the new Harry Potter book. It was only $15.78 at Wal*Mart and they only had four copies left.

I had a total of twenty minutes at work to read it, that got me to page 25.

I got off work at 1:00PM.

I finished it at 11:36PM last night.

If I hadn't taken two hours to eat and watch a movie with my parents, I would have been done sooner.

It sucks when 650 pages isn't enough.

You Oughta Know

I am a fan.



The concert was wonderful.

Comics

Missed last week, have next weeks, too.

Britain

We live in a sucky world, don't we.

For those who don't know, London was bombed today. Here's the AP's account and here's Reuters's account.

Somewhere toward the bottom, the AP says, "Terrorism experts agreed that the explosions had the hallmarks of al-Qaida." Of course, al-Qaida is mentioned at the top of both articles.

Yes, I feel horrible about this, but my cynicism immediately went off and shouted that now no one, or very few people, are going to care about about the letter between Bush Jr. and Blair about there not being chemical and nuclear weapons in Iraq, but intelligence can be doctored. And then there's the whole bizarro thing with the G8 summit in Scotland. Oh, and then the whole British opposition to the occupation of Iraq and how it's going to crumble because they're hurt now.

Should the British people be angry? Hell, yes. I just don't want them to lose their heads and jump into blindly doing everything the government says after this morning.

I'm sad so many people died, but relieved that it was a small number compared to what it could have been, being rush hour and all.

I wish that something positive will come out of this, but I'm pretty sure that only more hatred and violence will be the result. Neither of which seems to be helping the world at all.

Attack

Yesterday, I saw the dipshit DM in the store. So much for the two promises The Manager gave me. (To review, the first was that I wouldn't be scheduled when the dipshit is scheduled to visit and the second is that he wouldn't just drop in.) No one sure why he came, but her was there. I saw him, turned around, walked outside, and sat with my back to the door so I wouldn't have to see his goatee bearded face. Jackass.

I knew I shouldn't go to work today. I should have called in sick. I could tell as I walked out the door that this wasn't a day for working.

I got to the parking lot twenty minutes before work (11:55 AM) and just sat listening to music. I didn't want to go in, but I did. That's when I felt the tightening of the chest, the closing of the throat, and the clammy palms. All the warning signs of a panic attack. All except one time, when I've felt this way, I walk away until I feel better. At parties, I head home or at least outside into the air where I can get some good air. At school, I'd pick up my bag and head out. In my car, I pull over and get out. At work, I couldn't see a way out, so I started working.

I was put on drive-thru and just stood over there and stared out into the parking lot taking deep breaths and telling myself I'd be okay. When I felt worse, I walked into the back room and sat on the step ladder until I didn't feel too overwhelmed.

On my break at two, I just sat there. Assistant Manger #2, who was in charge, asked me if I was okay and I said that I wasn't. She asked me what she could do and I said she could send me home. She laughed. I looked at her and said that I meant it. She said I could sit back there for as long as I wanted. I looked away and played with my headset. When my break was over, I went out front and started taking orders again while staring out into the parking lot.

Eventually, TGMM came in and started talking to me. I wasn't talking back. She asked me how I was. I said bad. She asked what could be done to make it better. I said I should go home. She went and talked to #2 and then came back to say I could leave. So I did and felt bad about it, which made me feel worse.

I sat in my car for ten minutes until I felt like I could safely drive and then drove at least five miles under the speed limit the whole way.

When I got home, I crawled into bed and stared at the wall and ceiling for the next three hours.

I'm feeling better now.