New Years:
One of the three movies I rented yesterday was '200 Cigarettes'. It made
me nostalgic for a time I wasn't really old enough to appreciate. It made
me think back to some of my firsts: Album: Billy Joel, Glass Houses,
Tape : Roxy Music, Avalon, 45: The Vapors, Turning Japanese. Since
you all already know how old I am, these confessions can not date me.
I grew up in the 80's. By the time I was old enough to start going to
shows, I got into the hardcore scene which was still pretty lively in the mid
80's. I was a constant fixture at the sunday matinees at CBGBs.
From about '88 until '90, I was at all of the ska shows, skanking my little
brains out and drinking so much I wouldn't remember the next day what show I'd
seen the night before. After that, I mellowed out substantially, started
listening to hella dancehall & dub reggae.
The movie just made me think back to being in NY on New Year's Eve, which is a double edged sword. New York is definitely alive on New Years. It's tinged with desperation and mania and a forced 'we're all in this together' kind of mood. You may sense a theme, but from 1989 until 1997, I never woke up without a hangover on my birthday (New Year's day), which makes it all much worse. I think that there ought to be a ban on getting smashed on New Years. People would start off the new year in a pleasant way, not rolling over over onto the naked, drooling stranger next to them in bed and having no recollection how they or said stranger arrived in the compromising position.
Temp Sighting:
I ran over to Cardiology to speak to someone earlier today. I decided
to walk back to my building outside and get some fresh air rather than go through
the buildings. As I approached my corner, I saw dreadlocks under a gigantic
orange straw hat. I saw skinny legs and baggy skirt. I saw it smiling
at me. I was fucked. I was hoping that maybe I'd get lucky twice
and she wouldn't recognize me, but maybe I look more like myself when I'm outside.
Her: Hiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (moving closer to me)
Me: hi there. (backing away)
Her: Well, friday is my last day over at Pedriatical Andocrinology (that's how
she pronounced it)
Me: oh.
Her: The person I was replacing is coming back. I was called in because
she had to stay home and take care of her sick husband, but her husband isn't
sick anymore. so they dont need me in that department anymore!!
Me: Wow. That's interesting.
Her: Yeah, there's a lot for me to do there!! Im busy all the time!! But
really, i still liked working with you much much better! we had fun!!
Me: Oh, yeah, it was a laugh riot. (Backing away further)
I need to go..
Her: Okay, I'll call you before friday!!!
Me: great
There's that call me thing again. So far, I've been safe from her telephone calls. I dont know how long that will last. If she's shipping out on friday, Im hoping that that will be the last I hear from her, but I'm not counting on it. It seems that the less I like the person, the more I see them when I'm unprepared to make idle chit chat.
She Really IS Evil. Seriously:
I walked in this morning to find an interoffice
envelope thrown onto my mouse, face down. I flip it over & there's
a note:
Dana: Sorry to bother you, but would you please bring this down to Whatshername
down in the business office FIRST THING IN THE MORNING? (I wont be in
until 1:00). Thanks. BS.
I take a deep breath, and shove it across
my desk. There are differing opinions on exactly what time "first thing
in the morning" is. So I wait. I do other things. I check
my email. (none of which was from any one of you people saying "Dana,
you are one foxy chick with a sidesplittingly funny journal, to boot!" not that
im begging for email or anything). I read the journals I read daily. I
check my stats (such a bad thing for me to know..so very, very bad. so
time consuming. so obsessive), I respond to anything that comes up in
the lab, or in the office or with the doctors, and then it's 10:00, and my phone
rings.
Me: This is Dana
HER: Oh, HI there....did you see what i left on your desk?
me: yes, I haven't had time to do it yet, sorry.
HER: oh, no rush, I just wasnt going to be able to get in before 1:00
and I know she wanted it as early as possible, and I tried to shove it under
the door to the office yesterday, but it was too big and didnt fit!
Me: Well, I dont know what time I'll be able to get it there, but Ill do it.
Her: Thanks. SO, DID YOU GET YOUR PROMOTION???
Me: Yes, I did. (*true story. details to follow)
Her: (practically wetting herself with fake cheer) THAT's GREAT!!
WONDERFUL!!! We'll have to celebrate!!
Me: Why?
Her: it's a BIG DEAL!!
Me: no, it's really not, so no need for celebration..
Her: We SHOULD celebrate..
Me: No we shouldn't, you phony bitch. I can think of about 100 things
I would rather do than go out and celebrate anything with you, which would really
just be an excuse for you to pump me for information. (of course I didnt say
this, although I should have, what i really said was) No, that's okay.
and what's with that WE shit? like she
had anything at all to do with my upgrade? like she even remotely attempted
to be anything but a nasty & evil bitch. Geez.
* Dr. B found me this morning and told me that he had gotten email from the
personnel lady that basically asked what day he wanted my audit to be retroactive
back to. I dont know what he told her. They suggested June 27, which
I'm fairly confident he agreed to. They wouldn't be sending him that mail
if they weren't planning on okaying it, so I guess he *was* very convincing.
That works out for me. I'm dying to know how much money I made in the
raise. If I was any kind of mathematician, I would figure it out based
on the number they quoted and how much money I make an hour. Im sure there's
some division in there, some adding. Perhaps a fraction here or there.
All in all, too much for me to deal with, which means I'm just going to have
to wait till I get paid again. I
am awaiting your emailed congratulations.
I will, of course accept offers of love and requests for loans. Please indicate
on the subject line which category your mail falls under.
The Funniest Thing Said to Me Today:
Was thanks to Nicole. who came in to shoot the shit. She wasn't in on
friday and didn't see the mother of all monitors I'd acquired. She was
in the middle of a sentence, so it went something like this: "i really
cant stand him anymore. i hate my job he's driving me cra--holy shit.
Look at the size of that monitor!! Your applications are like really,really
small in there. And look at YOU. You look like a baby sitting in
front of it!! You are tiny. It's CUTE. You need a PLANT or something
to make it look less huge." (it really was much funnier when she said
it. Sorry about that) It's really sort of true. Good thing I worked out
a trade agreement with Lou, from desktop support. He has a nice 17 incher
he's willing to trade for this behemoth. He thinks he's getting the better
deal, I know he's not. Lou's a pretty big guy, and I have a feeling that
this puppy will make HIM tiny by comparison. It's all good, though. I
feel like a dork. Dr. B informed me that it looked like something an air-traffic
controller would have. Which is also true. I suggested we pop some
popcorn and gather round my desk for movie time, but no one seconded that emotion.
Ballys, Etc.
Tonight, the purple tights/yellow underwear woman was there: she TUCKED HER SHIRT INTO THE LEGS OF HER UNDERWEAR. Now, I might NOT be the most fashionable person at the gym, true, but I wouldn't dream of leaving the the house and heading for the gym IN MY UNDERWEAR. Would you? I didn't think so. I'm all for comfort and fit and flexibility when I'm working out, but really. That's UNDERWEAR. And does she have only ONE pair of designated workout tights and one pair of underwear? Did she look at herself in the mirror when she was in her house, getting ready for the gym and say: "This, this is the outfit in which I will achieve my fitness goals! Purple is the color of royalty. Royalty will give me strength to lift my leg higher than ever before in my repeater knee! My purple socks giving my ankles and feet the vigor of a KING! The yellow is for sunny day! It will heat through to my gluteus to warm them and make them nimble and poised. I shall carry a bag of shredded, dirty towels and place them about my body and step. I will imagine them as pillows to make my feet light and buoyant!!!" (true: she does have a bag filled with skanky towels. she keeps one wadded around her neck, the rest all over the floor and her step.) I got to the point today where I wouldn't even look up to see the people around me. I'm getting scared. Everywhere, there are people in BIG BUTT shirts and underwear with cameltoe and musical ben wa balls. There might definitely be something to that working out at home thing (except that I'd never stick to it, instead sitting around eating bags of popcorn and writing too-long journal entries. The funny people I see on a daily basis would drop by half, at least.)
Musicians I Can Not Stand:
Lenny Kravitz. God, I just HATE him. In every single way. He's so totally lame. Don't even get me started. Which brings me to: Jimi Hendrix. I never, ever liked him. I don't deny he's talented, but those endless screaming guitar solos. Spare me. The Rolling Stones. I know a lot of people think they're god and stuff. They don't do it for me, ditto for The Who. Please don't send me hate mail if you're an uber fan.
Confession of Today:
I like "southern rock". Allman Brothers, the ones who's name I cant spell, those Freebird Guys. The Marshall Tucker band (are they southern rock?). I also like that Kid Rock song where he screams about chicks with beepers. If I hear it while I'm driving, I have to keep a careful eye on my speedometer, because I'll find myself suddenly flying down I-95 going 80. (since it's 95, people are still passing me, but I am a careful and diligent auto-operator)