Better than fruit salad

I am testing out flickr’s “blog this!” function.

These are lights from the ceiling at work. That dark strip is where my desk is. They aren’t broken. If someone turns them on the graphic artists turn them back off.

The other day I was at Chipotle for an emergency lunch meeting with a friend of mine. There was a man poised to do that toss-a-child thing with his baby, and instead when he lifted the kid to the maximum height, the kid’s head actually touched some of the exposed tubing in the faux-industrial ceiling. The baby was indifferent to the matter but the father was greatly entertained, and touched the child’s head to the tube several more times.

I SAID I WOULDN’T GO THERE BUT IF I DON’T ANY FRUSTRATION I FEEL LATER THIS WEEK MAY NEED TO HAVE A CONTEXT, SO HERE IT IS. IF YOU WANT TO SKIP THE GRIPE, HEAD TO THE LINKS.

Last week. Oy. Push last week back out to sea. We are doing test number, oh, eighty-seven, for this new system we are getting in August*, only this time around we weren’t given the usual week notice to prepare (since there is a lot of tedious printing, reclassifying, and stacking of papers that needs to be done so that the test can happen effectively) but rather two days. I took a lot of it home during the weekend, but really most of it still did not get done by Wednesday. So I failed. I worked and worked and worked for everyone, but because of that by the time I got to Wednesday I was more behind on my own stuff then I’d ever been before, and so instead of helping with all the extra stuff, I sat for a straight ten and a half hours just doing things that normally take me about five. Ten and a half hours straight. I took a bathroom break once, and when I learned that I wasn’t going to have lunch ordered for me by the system-tester-team** I drove home and made a sandwich and came back. It was awesome.

Because I stopped caring about them on Wednesday (because after that little reality check I resolved: no more help from me) I have no idea whether or not it went okay or not. I had signed off on everything except going through the backlog of work which took a 8-9 hrs of undivided focus for the rest of the week, and then once I was home I had to prepare and participate in my online class for four hours. It was a new kind of fatigue. I was so tired that I was getting very profoundly detailed daydreams at my desk at work. They usually consisted of me having so much mass that I was unable to move at all. There were some quasi-tense things going on with Anthony that part of me kept thinking “hmm, maybe I should reconsider some of the way things work around here” but the lack of energy made me just not even care in the slightest.

The good news is it’s over now, and while I’m still supposed to be “training” this week (why?) I can at least move forward with confidence that I actually did get all caught up somehow, and I remain confident knowing that I have resolved to never help with there prep period again. Eat. My. Face.

*As far as I’m concerned, we can keep the old one. This new one seems to not fix the problems we keep trying to fix and makes not a sliver of logical sense as far as my job is concerned, and does all this cool stuff that I will never actually use. It will also reduce my job to a very miniscule amount of man hours, which makes me nervous. It will ALSO also take away my very favorite part of the job, which is building the layout and making everything fit. I love making everything fit. Remember Pier one? Do you remember what my favorite part was there? It was bringing out stock when we were bored, and making everything fit. I rock at making everything fit. I am a fucking super hero at making everything fit. Every single morning with my coffee I get to sit back and make everything fit, and after the new system takes over I will no longer get to do that. I’ll have to bring blocks to work or something, just to fill the aching cavity within me. And it certainly seems like I won’t have anything ELSE to do.

**I was furious. I had made myself behind by bending over backwards to help them out, and yet because I was not actually typing in ads during lunch, I was not ordered lunch. Never mind that I had been making typing ads in during lunch possible for two and a half days.

I suppose the good news about all that is I’ll get a wicked paycheck — I think I had something like 8 hours of overtime just for last week.

LINKS

Booyah

I plan to refer to this list whilst coping with this phenomenon. It started here and it’s been going down hill ever since. I guess I always secretly knew something like this was going on, but I had no idea how huge it was. I wrote a very sad and mournful thing about it actually but I think one rant per entry is about all I can take.

The gods hate Kansas, but I don’t know why.

HERE IS A PAINTING I’M SELLING

I will tell you where later on, and give a.) you a chance to tell your friends who always complain that they have nothing on their walls and b.) give me a chance to finish up some other stuff.

Q: Why did I wait so long to…

a. download Firefox?
b. get a backup drive?
c. get back on birth control?

A: Because I’m a moron.

Thankfully nothing happened of great detriment. Not even a minute after I clicked the “download now” link on the Mozilla site I am happily bookmark bar’d and tabbing to my heart’s content, the back up drive did in fact arrive in the mail and saved the day*, and after Period Next I can stop the dramatics and make with menstrual cycles more appropriate to my size (that is, I can stop loosing half my body weight of iron and have normal boobs again).

During my aforementioned Adventures in Iron Deficiency — before I went to the doctor and after I realized taking my damn multi-vitamin might cover it — I was doing some research on the subject and discovered pica. It is a charmingly-named disorder wherein you desire to eat non-food items, in particular dirt and clay, and now Anthony is all about pica. Do you have pica? he asks me as I consider the coffee pot in the morning. I think you have pica. I see you got another sack of dirt, are you trying to satisfy the pica? Are you hungry? Is it pica?

I am incredibly orally fixated, and have often expressed my overwhelming love of something (scenery, especially) by revealing I want to stuff it all in my mouth, so I suppose this combined with iron deficiency makes me a prime candidate for pica. I will keep you posted.

*I had a particularly God-awful day at work last week (well, the week itself was pretty bad actually, but you will be spared because I LOVE you that much. Yes you.) and was coupled by strange snark and a subsequently difficult meal, so I was already frowny. So it was ever so nice to see that my laptop, this laptop right here, got in on the fun and featured a blank screen with the words OPERATING SYSTEM NOT FOUND on it.

To my own credit, despite the fact that I had spent ten and a half hours straight dealing with the test run of a faulty computer system at work and despite the fact I had just essentially shut down someone argumentatively and had to yell a bit to do so, I did not go with my first instinct which was to have an aneurysm. Remember that for whatever idiotic reason none of my files were safe and sound on an external hard drive, and in fact I have gone merrily for something like eight years without doing so. I even had the remnants of Anthony and Dani’s old computer on my desktop from when HIS computer died, and yet did I so much as burn them on a CD? No. Of course not. That would have been smart and courteous. So while Anthony blacked out at the prospect of all of his grad school documents and napster-era music library booted into oblivion, I locked my jaw and called various computerly adept friends and my Mom. I had a dazzling array of possible fix its, and two offers to retrieve my hard drive (“the easy way or the hard way,” the latter of which I assume implies hurling the machine out a window). Mom, being very non-destructive and having more faith in The Machine than I think most humans are comfortable, postulated that the thing may have been overheated. So I unplugged the laptop and set it in the coolest part of the house, Anthony walked to the coffee shop in the mild evening weather, and I went to a friend’s house and sat in front of her window unit while I did my online class. For some reason that worked. Upon reuniting, it was apparent that all members involved merely needed to take a step back and cool down.

Of course, two days later when my overnight shipment of the external hard drive arrived, I did the wise thing and BACKED THAT SHIT UP.

TEMPERATURE

How do you go about it? I’ve noticed that many people are weird about their temperature requirements — when it’s blisteringly hot outside they want to be freezing cold, and when it’s frigid outside they crank the heat up inside. What gives, humans? I personally like to be in about 62*F to 65*F always, in any season, and hate to be any extreme outside of that in either direction, but it seems like everyone else’s preferences vary to the extremes depending on the season.

STUFF I WOULD GROW IN MY BACKYARD GARDEN, IF INDEED I HAD EITHER A BACKYARD OR A GARDEN

- Berries of any sort
- cabbage
- cilantro
- basil without earwigs
- mint
- potatoes
- spinach
- pork

I painted some very small things today that I am going to put up for sale later this week. There are some other small, more complicated things that are probably also going to go on sale, though not at the end of this week. I have some postcards that need coloring, and some drawings that need to be drawn. So that’s good. Pictures will be posted once I, you know, take them.

And now: Lord Byron. And port. Followed by Zim.

STUFF TO GET ALL IRRITATED ABOUT

Skinny girls complaining about how fat they are. Like borderline anorexic type girls, who count calories and insist on putting their vital stats up on their websites. (I do not care. What you look like.) Complaining about your own looks is futile and stupid anyway, but to be doing so needlessly is just another revolting layer of self-depreciating pity party recruitment. Oh poor me and the luxury of free time! Except instead of using that time to do something useful or interesting, I sit around on my “fat” “ass” and contemplate my own image! And yet not in any sort of helpful constructive way, but in a strictly demeaning sense! And I do so publicly just in case you want to fling a little sympathy my way! Wah poor me! I’m gorgeous and post lots of pictures to that effect! But it’s not enough, oh no it isn’t! Love me?

Though look at me and my free time, that I sit around on my normal ass and write up a ranty paragraph about it. Foot (0), Mouth (1).

STRANGE SIGN ON 8TH AVE

Jesus saves, delivers and satisfies.

THE PART WITH TMI

Lately I’ve been feeling very weak, light headed and out of sorts. It doesn’t feel like my normal blood sugar crisis type of weak, but rather I feel like I’m about to swoon like a Victorian invalid. Saturday night my wrists were actually so weak I doubted my ability to drive the car safely, and had Anthony take over. I had been thinking it was heat-related (we all know I don’t like warmth, but this summer — in a place sans air conditioning — has been very trying) but now I’m sitting at my desk at work and its going on. So my next guess is somehow my body is ignoring the fact that all I eat all the live long day is meat and yogurt and I’m getting a touch anemic. It might make sense in a weird abstract way since my last two periods were epic and I don’t get a good steak as often as I used to since I’m all POOR. But it’s still a little troubling.

So. I had a doctor’s appointment anyway, for my (first ever) girl parts exam*, so I figured I’d ask while I was there. Except then a few days before I noticed the bottle of vitamins sitting on my counter. You know, multi-vitamins for women. With heaping amounts of IRON. Duh. So I’ve taken one each day and of course I’ve felt completely normal ever since.

*Oh and how fun was that. So fun. It actually wasn’t as horrific as I was thinking, but I did learn something:

Q: What is the most awkward thing?
A: Discussing your sex life with a complete stranger, while naked.

Seriously. You dream about stuff like that. To have it really happen is just very…odd.

My new job is going swimmingly. I think my favorite part about it — weirdly — is that I’ve inherited all of Anita’s organization since I didn’t move her files over but rather swapped our phones and took her desk. It’s nice to go from the world of handing-off-my-finished-work-to-her-to-be-filed, to the world of being the filer. Knowing where all the folders are and what they mean. There is a place for everything. At the end of the month, this moves here, that goes here, and the stuff in this folder gets thrown away. It is a little surreal and daunting to be a one-woman show (I’ve been singing “I’m my own department” to myself a lot) (“it sounds funny I know, but it really is so!”)

My online class is doing great. The Anita Organization Realization has me VERY organized for this class, which is nice, I have a very redundant but effective system going that keeps me posting my discussion board comments and reading everything in a timely manner. It’s awesome, and I don’t know where this passion for the orderly has been all my life (apparently in the lower left hand drawer of Anita’s desk) but I’m just going with it and hoping I’m not jinxing myself by singing its praises. I have aced all of my quizzes quizzes (granted they were open note and only 5 questions long..but the important point here is that the class average on one of them was 2.5. How?) and have a 10/10 on my week one discussion board stuff. Woo!

CAFFINATED PESTS

Anthony (gmail-message from my house from my house): Here’s something fun:
I just caught a spider that was drinking your coffee
me (at work): wow
Anthony: in the green mug that was on the computer table
me: really actually drinking it? or swimming
Anthony: drinking
though when I picked up the cup (after covering the top in plastic wrap) he ended up swimming
then he ended up flying out into the rain
yeah. definitely drinking
caffeinated spiders

I forgot to mention that the accidental white-fabric-to-pink-fabric laundry adventure affected ALL of the whitish things in the washer. Five socks, several half yards of fabric I was washing before I use them in some project or another, several t-shirts, and (most disappointingly,) my really nice white button down shirt. It was one of about four shirts in my wardrobe that are unquestionably okay for work — everything else is a little too “well, good thing I don’t talk to customers absolutely every day.” A little too “well if I wear real pants maybe no one will notice.” I have since been oxy-cleaning my heart out and thankfully I can bleach the all white stuff (except they had a cycle in the dryer, so I’m not sure how savable everything is,) and of course pink socks never hurt anyone, but some of the stuff is just simply not going to happen, and pale accidental pink is not really my style so my goodwill pile may have just gained some friends. Mishaps are bad enough, but to be such a direct victim of your own stupidity seems really unfair.

The parade was fun though, no major mishaps. Wielding a giant balloon is really hard to do particularly when you don’t live in New York and are therefore unable to choose a parade route without wires and signal lights hanging across the road. We had a heck of a time maneuvering under and around these things (the balloon itself was about the size of a garbage truck, and took about 20 people to handle). Thankfully though it was oriented horizontally. There were several that were vertical, and were about 3 stories tall, so really THEY had the hard time, and we just had to front a little effort.

The best part about the morning though was hopping into my car afterwards and driving out to Nicole’s parents farm and having a heaping breakfast. I don’t think I’ve eaten more ever in my life — ballooning really takes it out of you.

HERE ARE TWO BORING BUT RATHER DESPERATELY NEEDED THINGS

1. Toilet paper. I am down to one roll. One roll for two bathrooms with (usually) two people is unacceptable.

2. Dirt. I have been transplanting things outside pretty consistently and have in the process completely forgotten about that whole transplanting thing for the indoor stuff. There are about 4 things inside that make me hurt every time I water them, so tight are their stems and roots. I tried to get dirt last week but was somehow talked into buying fertilizer, which is not even close to what I needed and since I tend to get drought-resistant type of things that are happier in poorer soil conditions.

WHAT WORKS AND WHAT DOESN’T

The best thing about my new(ish) job is that I’ve inherited Anita’s organization. It’s not amazing and certainly not fool proof, but it works surprisingly well for what I have going on. There’s folders for every single thing, and there’s a set time I get rid of old things, everything has it’s place. That’s my favorite way of keeping things somewhat neat: everything has it’s place. Before, when I finished things, they had to hang out in a big basket on my desk until I could hand them off to Anita and she would file things away in various compartments that I had no hope of understanding. But now her desk is my desk, and everything has it’s place. It’s so great.

NOW SOME PICTURES

Here is my favorite spoon, broken. Time to go to the store.

And here is my freaking hair

I don’t mean to be crass, but shit dude! This is the longest my hair has been since early highschool. I normally sport a pixie cut at the best of times, so this is really quite a feat. I’m not sure where it’s going — well, LONGER obviously — but this is the first time in a long time that “long” hair isn’t driving me up the tube, so I figure I’ll go with it and see what happens. I don’t think I will let the shortest bits get too far past my chin though. I am not a long-haired girl. Those days are long long gone.

Tonight: Live-Earth party. We are having amazing coffee and fondue, hopefully with no fires this time. Oh. Have I not mentioned that? The fondue fire? Well, that has to wait until next time.