October 29
Today's Haikus for Jews:
Is one Nobel Prize
so much to ask from a child
after all I've done?
For the past 2 years, people have been whining to me about the shitty coffee at work. "It's WEAK!" "It TASTES BAD!" "It's making me infertile!" "I'm losing my hair!". "Well" I would explain, "I do not order the coffee. I do not choose the coffee. Therefore, complaining to me is futile! Lodge your comments with she who orders, BS!"
Which a few brave souls attempted. However, complaining to BS is akin to walking up to your mother and saying "My childhood was shitty!" In response, they'd get BS lecture #23, which starts off with:
"Coffee is a LUXURY!! It's not a GIVEN!!" and ends sometime in the same day.
The person would walk off feeling no better. Unfortunately, that would set off about 45 minutes of heated behind the scene whispering aloud to herself, beginning with talking about it to me:
"I cant BELIEVE people have the NERVE to complain about the coffee!! they're lucky we have coffee at all!! If it sucks so bad, they can BRING IT THEMSELVES!!! What, they think, we don't PAY FOR IT? I've never worked in another place where they had free coffee!! Wait till the budget runs out!! THEN we'll see who complains about the coffee!!"
After she left, as we all know, I started ordering the coffee. Obviously, since it DID SUCK, I changed brands. I changed and changed and changed until I found one I liked, and one that other people told me they liked.
Until yesterday, when a lab person said to me:
"what's with this COFFEE? It's nasty!! It's so strong! I have to use a ton of creamer!! I don't like it!!"
I responded:
Huh!
and walked away, forgetting all about it.
Until this morning, when a friend of the lab person from yesterday came into my office and said:
"Are you collecting opinions on the coffee?"
"Nope, I'm really not."
"Because I don't like it. It's so strong!! And bitter!!"
"Funny, because only you and your friend have complained. Everyone else have been telling me how much they enjoy it."
"Oh. Well. I don't like it. I like the other kind."
"Huh!"
What the FUCK? I understand that I can't please everyone, but SHIT. People complained constantly when it was weak. Now people are complaining that it's too STRONG? It's enough to make me launch into the "COFFEE IS A LUXURY" speech. What I'm most pissed about here is that I have to fucking order the stuff. Not anyone else. It's a pain in MY ass to order it, and if people don't like it, well, I think that THEY NEED TO ORDER IT THEMSELVES. Because 2 people complained (the fact that it's two people I LOATHE made it worse) I should send it all back, maybe?
"oh, okay, you don't like it?? well, then BACK IT GOES!!!! Silly me!! what was I thinking!! having something you don't like!! BAD DANA!! BAAADDD DANA!! The next time I order ANYTHING, I'm going to run it by you first, in case it turns out to be something you don't like!!!"
What an ASSHOLE.
Fucking Househunting, Goddammit
Later in the day, Nick and I went off to look at more houses for Angelo & Eleanor. This time we saw two we thought they might like. The second was across the street from the Long Island Sound. Part of the reason they were both so taken with West Haven is because it's so close to the water, which made the location of this house ideal. Imagine my surprise when I had the following conversation with my grandmother from my cell phone:
"Okay, so we just went and looked at the second house!! It's really cute!! It's got these little nooks and crannies and it's RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE WATER....like 50, 100 feet or so!"
"Do you think it's TOO CLOSE to the water?"
TOO CLOSE TO THE WATER? The whole REASON they wanted a house in WEST Haven was because it's close to the water. Now she's complaining because it might be TOO close? Eh? What the hell does THAT mean? If she didn't want to be close to the water, they'd be LIVING HERE ALREADY for christ's sake. They wanted a house by the water. Holy shit on a stick.
Anyway, I [think I] convinced her that it was not, in fact, too close to the water. Then began the other issues: What time do the metro north trains run? how will we get to Grand Central? don't be silly, we'll take a cab in New Haven you don't have to come pick us up!! The houses will probably be sold by the time we get there!! A house on the water! Do you think we're making the right decision?
Etc. I can only tell her what I've been saying all along: I want them here. I want them to be in a place where they feel safe. Where they have something they really like and are happy. And I mean it sincerely. I DO want them here. I love them dearly and feel very lucky that I still have have them, because there aren't a lot of people my age who still do. End of mooshy grandparent chat.
Guess, Anyone?:
"God. I'm going to have the WORST DIARRHEA from all the chocolate I've eaten today!"
The Evil Floorshitter:
Okay. So we crated her this morning and set up a videocamera to see how (and when) she got out, IF she got out. All throughout the day, I kept having visions of coming home and finding her limp body dangling from the top of the cage, her collar tags stuck & woven through the bars. What we happen onto when we walked in was a very, very unhappy and cramped up Grayson anxiously trying to get out of the cage.
And one perfectly round pellet of poop.
That's right. She squeezed out one turd, a little tiny one, projecting it through the bars in back of the crate. How's that for a fuck you, you bastards? Lock ME up will you? Hah! I'm going to shit, but only just a little one, so that you still know who's boss.
We ROLLED with laughter about it, and she'll be back in the cage again tomorrow when we go to Boston for Paolo Conte.
After giggling about the turd for a few minutes, we got back into the car and headed for my nightmare, Home Depot to pick up the cabinet doors which finally arrived. We got them. loaded them into the car, went to dinner, (Malaysian food because all of the pizza places were mobbed) and came back home to two messages on the answering machine (which would add up to two more messages than we usually have on the answering machine).
#1:
Dane? It's Grampa! Please call me back as soon as you get in!! Thank you!!
#2:
Dane??!!!? It's GRAMPA AGAIN!!! Please call me as soon as you get in!! Thank you!! (as he's hanging up, I hear him say to my Grandmother "they're STILL not home!! I don't know where they are!!")
I call back:
"Oh, HI DANE!! Did you go out??"
Well, obviously we went out. Otherwise, why weren't we answering the phone?
Oy. It never makes sense to apply logic to my grandfather.
Hair
The reactions to my hair have been overwhelmingly favorable. There was even one seconding of Wayne's emotion (I'd forgotten to mention this yesterday) that my hair
DANCED IN THE SUNLIGHT.
That sounds so dramatic I'll say it again. My hair
DANCED IN THE SUNLIGHT.
Alas, with this camera, it's nothing but brown. Maybe during the day it'll be different. Until that time, you will simply have to use your imaginations.
Also:
Obviously, I'm a dumbshit and couldn't figure out the thing with the Book of Rob/nest of midget link I added months ago. This time, I think I've got it. Rob says nice things about me here. I'm going to give the 10 second explanation of why I lost my shit when he linked me:
1.) His was one of the first journals I read, and continues to be one of my favorites.
2.) He was definitely the first journalist I wanted, badly, to be my friend because we seemed to have a lot in common.
3.) He's adorable and he loves his wife passionately, which I dig.
Okay, now I'm completely embarrassed & I have no idea why. Like I'm 12 and pawing the ground while trying to ask someone out on a date. I'm just going to shut up now.
No update tomorrow, grandparents and Paolo Conte ("Too bad you're going away to Boston tomorrow, Dane! I guess you must have something very important to do..." said my grandfather, trying to guilt me into not going. Hah. Right.) will have me busy. Miss me more than last Saturday.
