Schudenfreude is us

Story of the day:

Seems that ex-boss shitcanned the inept one yesterday. She was back from vacation for exactly 24 hours.

Will the wonders of my psychic powers never cease?

News flash for some

We are going to Louisville tomorrow. Not because of some urgent need to visit a baseball bat factory. Not for some urgent need to visit a temple of horse racing.

Because once again, Kbot is in a wedding. He's always a bridesmaid. I was only a bride. He gets to wear a vest. Maybe even a bow tie. We don't know yet.

I am only hoping for an uneventful flight. Because we always get strangeness when we fly together. You might remember from a couple of years ago- the bomb scare fiasco in Chicago. And there were others. The almost fist fight in San Francisco. The blizzard in DC.

There's a reason we usually drive everywhere. Much easier to manage the strangeness that follows us like some kind of miasma.

I am only hoping that I don't get all fuckered up and make an ass of myself. That's common with me + weddings. Not totally sure why- probably the delightful combo of free hooch + not knowing many people + social awkwardness at its finest. Hey fun! And this time there's a strict "No Puking" policy, since we fly back the day after the wedding.

Coolest factoid of the trip- I get to use a floating holiday. Plus have already gained enough vacation hours to handle the extra day.

Uncoolest factoid of the trip- it's to Louisville.

Collective ennui

Something is in the air. Not only felt, but experienced.

Numerous friends are on the move job hunting. They have been in contact, because somehow, I am now a broker. Actually not really. Just have decent contacts and a database to mine for them.

Numerous other friends are very quiet. Very quiet. Not writing, but living. Which I can't deplore, just wait until they come back from summer vacation, or whatever is pulling them away from the computer. ("Stop Playing The Piano!" says baby Kbot to his mommy)

And me? Just a voice in the wilderness. Like the numbers cascading down the screen in the Geek King's wallpaper- imagine myself as Neo, only female, and without the glasses. Or the coat. Or really the attitude. Probably crack a smile more often, too. I would prefer to be Mr. Smith, anyway. Much more meat to the role.

Ah wilderness. Just keeping the writing going. Just because I am nothing if not stubborn. Don't really care in a sense if anyone is out there. I am. And that just has to be enough some times.

And maybe this is a craven attempt for attention. But then again, maybe not.

I've decided that there is plenty best left unsaid.

Despite the overwhelming urge to unburden myself.

It's just not fair. To force revelations upon strangers.

They don't know what to do with the information, and might not appreciate the enforced intimacy.

Overall, bad plan. Common enough. But bad plan.

Just learning how to live with it all under my own skin. Itching like the movie that came out when I was little- about the ants under people's skin. I saw the poster at the drive in, when I went into the concessions stand to use the bathroom. The place was painted the red of an aorta. And smelled like popcorn. I suppose that is what it smells like in the operating theater when they perform an open heart surgery. A mixture of popcorn, dust and that pink, grainy bathroom soap.

And furthermore

Because if there is a dead horse in the proximity, you can find me flogging it...

More on intent. Nothing really original, really. Just wondering if its possible to plumb the psyche creatively and NOT expose all of the latent bullshit that resides in there. If it's possible to remain creatively objective and not create total shit.

I just don't know. The fine art stuff didn't hold up to this. It was chock full o nuts. Mine own, of course. Only the subtext wasn't necessarily shared. But this is another thing entirely. I just lack the answers.

I wish I had them. I wish that I had something with clarity. I sometimes wish for total anonymity online- because I want to rave at the world and not face the immediate consequences. I want to post the unapproachable and the unacceptable. And the misinterpretable. Instead I walk the middle path, probably pleasing no one, including myself.

And then I start to scan the blogs out there, and realize that most of the raving is crap. And predictable. And just plain silly. Painfully embarrassing, even. But that's the nature of this thing, no?

But god forbid I lose my dignity in the bargain. Sweet jesu, it's bloody ridiculous. I thought once upon a time that I wasn't at all concerned about appearances. Guess that was crap too. Because it seems that I am. I can couch it in terms of compassion and caring, but it all boils down to being concerned enough to cover my own ass.

And just not wanting to have some types of conversations. Period. They wear me out. And we'll leave it at that.

Intent vs. follow through

Funny thing, I guess you would call it funny- I do, which is really all that matters here, I suppose- this wasn't originally intended to be a personal forum. This wasn't supposed to be me just spouting off endlessly about whatever came to mind. This wasn't supposed to be a substitute for therapy. This wasn't supposed to be a diary. This wasn't supposed to be much besides a writing experiment.

And now here I am. Years later. Having written more than I have ever written in my life. And probably exposed more than I would ever really do in person. It's very odd. Feels so strange- this intimacy and distance.

It's a game, really. A partial strip tease. Very few know me for real. And to those who don't, I play this cheeky game of letting you partially in. Then closing the door. For real. Because I am afeared of what might happen if this slipped into my reality. Don't go there. Instant delete button. Because it just can't happen that way.

But there I go again- spinning into some other place, when the intent was something different. I suppose I should embrace that creative dimension- if it can be called thus. Mainly because it beats the hell out of staring fixedly at the screen willing the unwilling words to come out come out where ever they are.

Heard via grapevine

Short news updates today.

Seems that the nasty ex-boss who slammed me recently has a reputation as a snake. Found out while eating with an old acquaintance of hers.

Interesting.

And not surprising.

Hope it bites her in the ass- HARD.

On a different subject

Kboy was able to attend a company yardsale last week. Old equipment, returns, broken shit, unknown items all at bargain basement prices.

He brought home his spoils yesterday. We are rock stars. I'll post pics when I get the inclination (think over the weekend). Seriously. I now have 2 brand spanking new and functional bass amps. Including one that is a monster- has to be moved by 2 people, with a 15" woofer. The other is smaller, but combined, quite an impressive stack.

He has 2 lovely guitar amps- both are tube amps.

All for under $200.

I love him. I may not say it in print very often, but times like this, my heart swells with pride.

This will not continue

What I'm about to do, that is. The actual actions causing it will continue. But this won't.

I lost 4 pounds in a week.

There.

Now I will keep those updates to myself. But suffice it to say, this happened despite my Mother's visit, and creme brulee. Despite several great dinners out. Despite beer.

The trainer told me it's all in the budgeting. Now I may actually believe him.

I'll admit to slacking yesterday

But I gotta say, that old girl has too much damned energy!!!

She kept us running. And it was all good. I am not seriously complaining. Just glad that we had a really good time.

Some observations:

There are entirely too many fat people at the zoo. Really fat people. Not borderline fat.

People who run strollers into unsuspecting pedestrians and then act all offended because you had the audacity to occupy space should be punched in the throat.

Glass blowing is cool.

Cat boxes need to be cleaned daily.

Crying children are not enjoying the zoo. Don't fool yourself. They will probably become the owners of fighting dog rings.

The Nordstrom Rack on Saturday afternoon is a really, really scary place.

The Tacoma History museum is kind of boring- all those stupid dioramas with white plaster midgets who spout off unaccented English...ack.

When the forbidding docent lady asks, "have you been to the 5th floor?" the answer had better be, "Yes!"

And now I go to work.

Getting ready for my mother to visit. She comes this afternoon via air.

So not much to say- just feeling an overwhelming urge to clean grout, dust, look for cobwebs, and all other assorted attempts to look spotless. Which I'm pretty sure doesn't fool her for a minute. Because she knows I'm not spotless. Not even all that tidy. Clean, yes- where it matters. But not tidy.

Gotta go. There is laundry to start. And dust to find. And other assorted crap like that.

What's to blame?

I'm casting about for a reason- why the hell I can't get out of bed in the morning?

Not depression. Not sad. Not tired, but so tired. Just want to keep dozing deeper and deeper and finally keep in bed. Long past the alarm. Just listening and drifting and having them tell me all of the good and bad news, all of the traffic and weather. All of everything, really. I catch myself drifting through things that interest me, pulling up short and realizing that I missed the middle part of the story.

Then getting out of bed. And trying to get started. Something is not quite right. Nothing deliberate enough to pin down exactly. And don't tell me I need a vacation. I just had a 3 week vacation. And it was sufficient.

On the weekend, it's drifting from sleep to nap to nap to sleep. Cyclical sleeping. And it's not the weather. Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, but only for under 15 minutes. Otherwise it's a nasty burn followed by freckles and the melanoma fairy.

On the weekday, it's coffee, followed by going to work and more coffee. And then being just fine.

But once home, it's exhaustion again. I don't really want to live my life like this.

Am hoping that the personal trainer guy- who btw, was far too damned cute to know my actual weight (sigh), holds the key to the castle of health and welfare. The online prognosis is pretty good. No gloom and doom there, just hard work, and correction of excess. Budget what you love. And hope for energy in a bottle. Or a pill. Or just in the blood cells. Replacing ennui. I love throwing those words into everyday conversation- it makes them wonder. The chick who seems so very, very simple knows a few big words. And uses them. Gets them every time.

Fall back position- there is a plan in place if this doesn't work. But it's hard. And it's time consuming. And it costs lots of money that I don't pay, but I sign a contract with the devil, so to speak and commit to it. Better to find the strength hidden somewhere within- gotta be in there somewhere- there's plenty of room.

And enough speaking in riddles. The moral of the story- not going to work out in the morning. It'll have to be after work, then.

And because I cannot leave well enough alone

This is another one I ran across. And again, can't keep it to myself. Never was a girl for restraint. Thus my visit to the gym last night for an evaluation- more on that particular hell later. Suffice it to say, gotta pay that fucking piper. Dammit.

So here. Never say I don't give you kids anything:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTU2He2BIc0

You are very welcome

I am having trouble stringing words together- more of that later. But in the meantime, for your watching entertainment, here:

http://www.milkandcookies.com/link/65872/detail/


Just wait for the money shot, people. It's worth it.

Mwah!

Must be something in the air

Another weird one today:

Cinerama employee accused of filming women in bathroom

By LEVI PULKKINEN
P-I REPORTER

A 20-year-old Cinerama employee was booked into jail after a moviegoer at the downtown Seattle theater discovered a video camera in the women's restroom.

According to police, investigators were able to catch the video voyeur because the man accidentally filmed himself setting up the camera.

Police were called to the Cinerama at 6:20 p.m. Saturday following a report that a woman had discovered the camera. According to police reports, the 24-year-old woman -- who was at the theater to watch "The Simpsons Movie" -- was moved to tears when she found out she was being filmed.

According to reports, the camera had recorded four women using the toilet.

A police officer showed the beginning of the tape to a theater manager, who identified the employee caught on film setting up the camera, according to reports. After being read his rights, police say, the man admitted to taping women at the restroom on one other occasion earlier this month.

Police spokeswoman Renee Witt said detectives plan to search the man's Seattle home for other videos.

"Once the detectives review this information, they're going to try to see if they can identify people who were on the tape," Witt said. "If anyone feels they may have been a victim of this, they can definitely call 911."

Cinerama spokesman Michael Nank said the theater is concerned about the allegations.

"We do take the safety and privacy of our clients seriously," Nank said.

Nank declined to discuss details of the case, saying it isn't appropriate to comment on the matter until all the facts are known.

The man was booked into King County Jail on suspicion of voyeurism. Bail had not been set Monday afternoon.

So in the place of an existential crisis, I just have bad dreams.
Unable to determine if it's something I ate or just bad hoodoo.
But getting up in the middle of the night and turning on the light
to see if there really is a woman in the room standing at the foot
of the bed is bad.
Worse is a few hours later going to the window to see if someone
really is climbing out of it.
Confuses the hell out of The Boy.
Makes me crabby as hell the next day.
Am hoping that it was just dietary, and not some kind of mid-night
hallucination.

Strangest sentence that I've heard all week:

Setting: Yesterday in Kirkland by the waterfront
Cast: youngish woman walking with her boyfriend

She: "I need a new nose ring."

More WA state hijinks

Man charged in Tacoma with having sex with goat

THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

TACOMA, Wash. -- A man accused of having sex with a goat is scheduled to be arraigned today in Tacoma on a charge of animal cruelty.

Charging papers say a witness saw 63-year-old Arthur Lawton having sex with a goat May eighth in a barn at Eatonville's Pioneer Farm Museum where he worked. He said he was trying to milk the goat.

Lawton missed a scheduled arraignment on August third but turned himself in last night to Pierce County sheriff's deputies.

He's the second person charged in the county since the Legislature made bestiality a crime in response to the fatal injury to a man having sex with a horse in Enumclaw.

A man accused of having sex with the family pit bull dog was acquitted in May.

Happy Friday!

http://www.kanyewest.com/?content=video_cant_tell_alt

We live in new tv land.

I didn't stay up to play last night- just helped set it up, and went to bed- too damned tired from spa day the day before- seriously. Spa day. With a group from work. Spa day, people. We're calling it a morale function.

Have I said yet that to date I love my job? Well. Spa day, people. My toes have never been this pretty. Ditto my fingers. And despite the lack of a "happy ending", the massage I received was all exfoliaty, and nice. No dead skin cells (or dead sea cells) on my body. Spa day.

Tonight I play with the tv. It is ..larger than it looked in the store...and larger than I expected.

I'm thinking an episode of 2 of Twin Peaks followed by Lawrence of Arabia. Because that demands a big screen.

Spa day. I'm in bliss still. Despite being grumpy as hell last night- just too tired.

And today, no spa day.

Is there a support group for spa day addicts? Because I would say that it is a distinct possibility that at this late date, I could go for the girly, well-polished lifestyle that heretofore I have avoided. I was told that I glow. By a friend at lunch yesterday. Well then. The Boy asked if I was going to start budgeting a spa day in. When I saw what the whole event cost (hope they got a bulk discount, I'm saying), I realized that it was almost what I pay for rent. And more than I pay for student loans. So I don't think so. Even incrementally, it wouldn't be as satisfying. Whole shebang or nuttin.

So maybe I start collecting a special fund....and ebay a bunch of crap to fill the coffers. And take donations from well-meaning strangers...

But first, back to the tv. Did I tell you it's bloody huge? (37" to be exact...only weighs 50 lbs...damn)

Nothing to worry about today that I am aware of yet. And that's a nice feeling.

So pretty sure it will change.

Yesterday was interesting. One of the sessions at the convention ended up like a group therapy session. Which was funny in a way, very sad in another. One of the attendees was bitter as hell about her job. Reminded me of the toxic situation I left a month ago. She was on her way to another job, which was a relief- but it was a good reminder of how easy it is to get that way. All bitter. And messy. The angrier- the harder to contain it all in a tidy package, and it starts to slip out in places that are questionably appropriate. I guess the answer is to continually attempt to evaluate. And keep that inner dialogue functioning. And internal when necessary. I suspect that she has lost this ability. And that's sad.

I think that the whole episode mystified the guy in our group from Hyderabad. He no doubt didn't know what the hell hit him.

Other than that, nothing exciting happened. Nothing. And that's just fine.

I gotta like days where there aren't crises to intervene, and angry people to calm. And all that crap.

Been at a convention. Going back today. And tomorrow.

Funny thing. The kind of job I'm doing. And the resultant attempts by the company at large to do some serious patting on the back. Motivation building or some such.

It's hard not to be cynical about it all- since it's the first time in 30+ years of being a company that they're trying so hard to formulate a distinct career trajectory in my field. Not just saying- get it done, kids. Not just saying- we aren't sure what you're supposed to be doing, but do it.

Not that I'm complaining. I like that kind of thing- stability, security, and knowing what the boundaries are. Because then they can either be accepted or nudged. But it's better to know then to be in the kind of free-for-all thingy that I was in last year this time. You know, unreasonable demands being made, no room or power to deny said unreasonable demands. Just getting it done. And then to discover that there was no recognition of the attempt, or of the effort it took. Just condemnation of some perceived (and totally mysterious) inadequacy. Ah. No bitterness there at all....

Beitch better not fuck with me any more, I'm just sayin. That's all.

Now for more coffee and a slight attitude adjustment before I plunge back into convention world.

Not much time to play today- have things at work that call me in early.

Just wanted to say hi.

Be back for more later.

Last night we had a company picnic for The Boy. It was nice. Very eclectic assortment of people- with a vast array of music industry backgrounds- (more info than that, and I would have to kill you- this is anon, right?)- and an array of origins.

Coolest thing- I finally got my hands on a Pims cup. Felt veddy, veddy Bri'ish. And ever so Ascot. Only not dressed for the occasion- in my F1 gear (tis a race weekend, and my boys won't win if I'm not in my F1 gear. Humor me.). No silly big floppy hats. No hose. No skirt. No heels. No blasted way. And the cup was plastic rather than Sterling. So more of a downscale Ascot kind of experience.

Too much Pims, actually. Which should come as a surprise to no one. The only offputting thing is the slight aftertaste of cough syrup.

Now back to the race day adventure, and away from this. Priorities, right?

It all turns on a dime. And the odd gust of wind.

News from home- not particularly good. Seems that the fires are uncontrolled, and there are a few new ones.

What does this mean? It means that my mother has gone ahead and packed some boxes. Of things that she can't bear to lose.

It means that I am waiting for the call- when and if it comes, we haul ass for home. To do what we can to help. If it means driving tractors and combines down the road to save them from the flames, then so be it. If it means taking the good advise of a friend who was with the forest service and equipping hefty sticks with mud flaps and beating the fucking flames, then so be it. Whatever it takes- because I will not sit here in the safety of damp coolness and hear about my mother and step-father losing their home without being there to fight.

But that presupposed that there will be an opportunity to fight. And that is another concern entirely. There might not be a chance.

And I will cry soon if I keep this thought pattern going.

Must end it now.

Been dreaming non stop about wild animals. Like cougars in the yard chasing the kitties. And the Boy letting skunks in the house. Not good dreams, but not horrible either. Just odd.

And the tone is more that of a National Geographic documentary than of a horror movie. This I prefer. Not Shark Week NG either. (or is that Discovery channel? Same difference.)

But overall I am just bone tired. Too much information in too short of a time span. But that's to be expected. And it is what I wanted. Open eyes and all. So no whining. Just keeping on with it.

Last night

we discovered that we have raccoons. There are 3 of them, they are unbearably cute, and they are used to human folks, and probably get hand fed by retarded neighbors, like the squirrels.

They menaced the kitties, who were very upset.

They will not get fed here. I will look but not touch. And the Boy will do likewise. As raccoons are naughty, and have a habit of getting rabid. Bad influence all around.

News of the day

Now here is the juicy bit. I had lunch with friends. I caught up on my old job- all the news that's fit to print, so to speak. Only I don't plan on printing it- not interesting to outsiders.

But then came the killer. Seems that my ex-boss torpedoed me to a potential boss. Seems that she said that my performance wasn't stellar. Luckily I have friends who were trying their best to mitigate her damage, and providing gentle coaching. Luckily he told them his doubts. But it would've been one hell of a sales job.

Best luck- I never told her diddly about the job that I did get. I had a feeling. And I listened to it.

Why did she pull this brand of nastiness out of her pocket? Not sure exactly. But I suspect part of it is that she holds me responsible for the ineptitude of my replacement. That somehow I am to blame for the woman being a poor choice in the first place. I think that she's also pissed that I asked questions about inappropriate comments made to a co-worker- the kind of things that result in very bad karma for the company (i.e. inappropriate promises of jobs to come, etc.), and she didn't like that. We had a few words about that- she made a veiled threat about keeping my mouth shut. But I thought that we had resolved that. I thought that we had resolved the other issue when I gave her a full debrief.

Evidently not. Glad that I trusted my instincts and kept things to myself. Glad that I have very good friends who were looking out for me. Glad that I got a job untainted by that woman. Glad that she can't do anything to me ever again.

The nasty little thing.

Ah the humanity

Last night the Boy gave me a treat of sorts. And not that kind of treat, either- I don't share those details online! Different blog for that I'm guessing.

Anyway- seems that there are pictures of his 20th reunion floating out there. We have an agreement. Neither will drag an unwilling party to a High School or College reunion. Period. Full stop. And we've lived with it. Not a huge stretch for me- I hated High School and everything that it represented. The Breakfast Club be damned. I HATED it. And still contain a little core of bitterness towards some of those people that is admittedly diminishing with age, but will no doubt remain with me always. Like grit in an oyster if you will. I refuse to give them any avenue to hurt me again. Period. So avoidance.

The Boy's reasons weren't so angstian. Just didn't care.

So we sat and reviewed the photos. Of what appeared to be the same 15-20 drunken individuals over and over and over. Typical, no? Clicques at this age. And they all looked like old white people to me. With the sole exception of one guy's Asian wife. Most were very....well-fed. Some looked like they had lived a hard life. That was sad. But overall- just a group of older people who looked like they were enjoying themselves in a benign fashion. Though I must say, there was one shot of a few of the guys where I swear they were discussing which chicks in the class they would still bang. Just had that locker room feel to it, and there were indications that they were well into their cups. So- glad we passed on it.

Rule remains intact. I think I would've died of boredom. And not gone to heaven- just stayed there in hell. Listening to 80's hair bands, longing for the mullets in their high school pictures to return for sheer humor, and watching them wear leis (it was a luau, doncha know?), and get fabulously drunk. Gak.