I'm allowed to say no, right?
Someone can make a polite request of me and I can say no, right?
I'm allowed to have that position, right?
Just because you might think it's wrong doesn't make it wrong, right?
So, hey...I'm sorry if I'm doing what you want me to do or think I should do, but I'm allowed to say no, right?
Or am I just wrong?
Monday, February 28, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Quote of the Day
Anyone who works is a fool. I don't work -- I merely inflict myself upon the public.
-- Robert Morley
-- Robert Morley
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
This Space Is Mine
If you were lucky enough to catch it, SuitMan decided to make an appearance on my blog.
His comment was deleted. His IP address at work was banned. Actually, I think the entire company's network was banned. I could be wrong since I know pretty much little about IP addresses but whatever I did was pretty massive. Unless he posts from home or someone else's PC then he will have no way to comment on my blog. And even if he does I will be deleting and banning his comments.
What he said in the comment I could really care less about since I read about two words of it (one of which was "victim" and the other "sad") before seeing who it was from and heading over to the Haloscan website for a little nip and tuck of my comment management system. I then broke my own vow and called his office. Thankfully it was him who answered the phone and I didn't even say hello or my name.
"Please do not comment on my blog. Part of 'not talking for a while' extends to my blog."
He started to defend his actions and I wasn't having it. He should be very thankful that I'm not posting his real name, email address, home/work/cell phone numbers, home and work addresses, and his picture on the website with the words: "CAUTION!!! STAY AWAY!!!" written under it...If I really wanted to be evil I could call up his current love right now since he works for the same company that I do and tell him all about the last yeartrust me as tempting as it is, it's not something I would do. If anything you should know me better than that. I might be a vindictive bitch at times, but I'm not going to stoop to that level.
Only one thing he said registered with me. He said that out of the two of us, I was the only one being negative. Well, I've been thinking about that comment since he said it and I've come to a conclusion -- I'm the only one who was negatively impacted and quite frankly, I'm entitled to expression my opinion and my feelings ON MY OWN FUCKING WEBSITE! Don't like it? Get your own blog and talk about me all you want.
This space is mine. I've had it for almost four years. It's my personal (dare I say sacred?) space where I share my life as I see fit. No one knows who you are, SuitMan. Those that do are very few in number (which is something you should be thankful about considering the number of people who have offered to do bodily harm to you). I'm working to get closure on my terms -- not yours. If it means I post about our last encounter then that is my decision. I ask you to really look hard at the facts of what I said happened and if anything isn't true then please, PLEASE let me know. If anything, I'm good on the facts. And if I happen to put my feelings surrounding those facts in terms that work for me and express how I feel, then that's how I feel and you cannot negate my feelings. Given the situation, I'm entitled to have a few negative feelings I would think.
As I told you, remember how it felt when your ex left you a few years back. You'll have a good idea of how I feel. You should know that it's impossible to have an impersonal, personal relationship. You can't kiss me the way you kissed me...in front of my friends kissed me...and expect me to be all Scarlett O'Hara "fiddle-dee-dee, tomorrow is another day" about you deciding for the third time that you don't want to pursue a relationship yet again.
I've spent over a year trying to tell friends that you weren't the player that they told me you were. That I understood you better than they did because of our talks and the time we had spent together. That they didn't know what you had been through and I knew where you were coming from and could relate. That you were different. So forgive me if your most recent actions are making me wonder if my friends have been right all this time and that they correctly predicted that in the end I would be the one getting hurt. You've come out smelling like a rose, SuitMan. You're back in your relationship and everything is fine for you. As cliche as it sounds, I'm the one who has been left out in the cold.
Yes, I am hurt. I am very hurt. But this is my space. Mine. I do not plan on writing about you ever again and I plan to abide by my simple request that we not talk for a while and this does extend to my blog. If you want any hope of salvaging a friendship, you will honor my request.
This space is mine. I've claimed it for me.
His comment was deleted. His IP address at work was banned. Actually, I think the entire company's network was banned. I could be wrong since I know pretty much little about IP addresses but whatever I did was pretty massive. Unless he posts from home or someone else's PC then he will have no way to comment on my blog. And even if he does I will be deleting and banning his comments.
What he said in the comment I could really care less about since I read about two words of it (one of which was "victim" and the other "sad") before seeing who it was from and heading over to the Haloscan website for a little nip and tuck of my comment management system. I then broke my own vow and called his office. Thankfully it was him who answered the phone and I didn't even say hello or my name.
"Please do not comment on my blog. Part of 'not talking for a while' extends to my blog."
He started to defend his actions and I wasn't having it. He should be very thankful that I'm not posting his real name, email address, home/work/cell phone numbers, home and work addresses, and his picture on the website with the words: "CAUTION!!! STAY AWAY!!!" written under it...If I really wanted to be evil I could call up his current love right now since he works for the same company that I do and tell him all about the last yeartrust me as tempting as it is, it's not something I would do. If anything you should know me better than that. I might be a vindictive bitch at times, but I'm not going to stoop to that level.
Only one thing he said registered with me. He said that out of the two of us, I was the only one being negative. Well, I've been thinking about that comment since he said it and I've come to a conclusion -- I'm the only one who was negatively impacted and quite frankly, I'm entitled to expression my opinion and my feelings ON MY OWN FUCKING WEBSITE! Don't like it? Get your own blog and talk about me all you want.
This space is mine. I've had it for almost four years. It's my personal (dare I say sacred?) space where I share my life as I see fit. No one knows who you are, SuitMan. Those that do are very few in number (which is something you should be thankful about considering the number of people who have offered to do bodily harm to you). I'm working to get closure on my terms -- not yours. If it means I post about our last encounter then that is my decision. I ask you to really look hard at the facts of what I said happened and if anything isn't true then please, PLEASE let me know. If anything, I'm good on the facts. And if I happen to put my feelings surrounding those facts in terms that work for me and express how I feel, then that's how I feel and you cannot negate my feelings. Given the situation, I'm entitled to have a few negative feelings I would think.
As I told you, remember how it felt when your ex left you a few years back. You'll have a good idea of how I feel. You should know that it's impossible to have an impersonal, personal relationship. You can't kiss me the way you kissed me...in front of my friends kissed me...and expect me to be all Scarlett O'Hara "fiddle-dee-dee, tomorrow is another day" about you deciding for the third time that you don't want to pursue a relationship yet again.
I've spent over a year trying to tell friends that you weren't the player that they told me you were. That I understood you better than they did because of our talks and the time we had spent together. That they didn't know what you had been through and I knew where you were coming from and could relate. That you were different. So forgive me if your most recent actions are making me wonder if my friends have been right all this time and that they correctly predicted that in the end I would be the one getting hurt. You've come out smelling like a rose, SuitMan. You're back in your relationship and everything is fine for you. As cliche as it sounds, I'm the one who has been left out in the cold.
Yes, I am hurt. I am very hurt. But this is my space. Mine. I do not plan on writing about you ever again and I plan to abide by my simple request that we not talk for a while and this does extend to my blog. If you want any hope of salvaging a friendship, you will honor my request.
This space is mine. I've claimed it for me.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Go and have a ball...
It's scary when a TV show's theme song turns out to have some good advice that you should really follow...it's running through my head so what the hell...
This is it (this is it)
This is life
the one you get
so go and have a ball!
This is it (this is it)
straight ahead
and rest assured
you can't be sure at all.
So, while you're here
enjoy the view
keep on doing what you do
Hold on tight
we'll muddle through
one day at a time (one day at a time)!
So, up on your feet (up on your feet)
somewhere there's music playing.
Don't you worry none,
just take it like it comes,
one day at a time (one day at a time)
one day at a time (one day at a time)
one day at a time (one day at a time)
one day at a time!
This is it (this is it)
This is life
the one you get
so go and have a ball!
This is it (this is it)
straight ahead
and rest assured
you can't be sure at all.
So, while you're here
enjoy the view
keep on doing what you do
Hold on tight
we'll muddle through
one day at a time (one day at a time)!
So, up on your feet (up on your feet)
somewhere there's music playing.
Don't you worry none,
just take it like it comes,
one day at a time (one day at a time)
one day at a time (one day at a time)
one day at a time (one day at a time)
one day at a time!
Something just for Rob...
This one is just for this man because it would just be great to have him turn out to be gay or at least bi...so enjoy, dear Rob...this one is for you...
carlos flexing his stuff
carlos flexing his stuff
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Take him...I don't want him
So I decided what to do with the bear...I've decided that maybe eBay is the best way after all and donate that money to charity...tsunami relief or something like that...or maybe be a little selfish and if it does well it's something I can use towards my two week excursion to Italy...
The bear can be found here and I decided to basically include the majority of the last post of eBay so everyone knows where the title of the item comes from....I feel the title is wholly appropriate.
Spread the linky love around to everyone so they can see the item...bid on it...and remove the evil voodoo vibes that are in my apartment now...
We'll see how it goes...
The bear can be found here and I decided to basically include the majority of the last post of eBay so everyone knows where the title of the item comes from....I feel the title is wholly appropriate.
Spread the linky love around to everyone so they can see the item...bid on it...and remove the evil voodoo vibes that are in my apartment now...
We'll see how it goes...
Friday, February 18, 2005
Still In the Box
In my apartment there is a box.
What's inside the box on Monday was very special but was rendered meaningless on Wednesday.
It's a teddy bear I made at the Build-a-Bear Workshop that was meant to be a Valentines Day gift for SuitMan. A cute "Bearamy" bear outfitted with a set of denim overalls, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat. The woman behind the counter showed it to the manager as "one of the cutest [she] had seen". I even named it after SuitMan's nickname and on the bear's "birth certificate" it even says it was "Lovingly stuffed by Brian."
I didn't buy this for no reason. For the past week or so, we had been making headway towards getting back together one more time and for all intents and purposes, it looked like it was going to be a more long term, let's really try this time, kind of effort. He decided he wanted to try once more as well.
But not with me.
SuitMan begged off on Monday night and we made plans to spend the weekend over at his place when I would present him with the gift. Tuesday, I was out of the office taking care of a few personal things (doctor's appointment, passport, etc), and when I got into the office on Wednesday there was an email from him that he had good and bad news. Apparently, Monday night when he begged off spending some time that evening with me, he had a phone call with the guy he was recently seeing but decided that the two of them weren't compatible for a variety of reasons. That must have been some phone call because he's going to give it a second go with this guy and he abruptly ended our third attempt at whatever you want to call the soap opera of our relationship.
What I thought was a great opportunity for us to finally...FINALLY...get somewhere blew up in my face and not because of anything I did. In hindsight, what really gets to me more than anything else is that he wrote via email that he wants me to be happy for him and his decision to try something again with this guy, who quite incidentally happens to work for the same company that I do.
My emotions, I wrote back (yes, he did all this via email), have been played with and it hurt very much. His response was that I was warned (actually he said "WARNED" in all caps) not to get too emotionally involved with him (which yes, he did say) but as I said to him, saying those words and trying to remain impersonal when you're speaking of things such as exploring a relationship, telling him that, yeah, being his boyfriend would be a great thing, and actually looking forward to spending some serious time with him this coming weekend (not to mention a few sexual conversations) and getting my hopes up for the potential that we're finally getting somewhere...well...I hate to say it, after over a year and everything that has been said and done and hinted at during that entire time, it's hard to NOT have some emotional stake.
Finally, I wrote that I hope it does work out for him because it's never ever going to work for us now. Whatever feelings I had are now, pretty much gone. I've been walking around in this odd funk for the past two days and not really wanting to be around anyone (sorry, guys but that's part of why I didn't show up for the fest at XES). I've been so out of whack since Wednesday morning that I don't even know if I want a friendship with him. I don't really know what I want anymore.
Three times.
Three strikes
He's out.
On the good side of it all (because yes, I'm trying to make something good come out of this), I've decided to start therapy for the first time in about eight years or so. Coming from a strurdy Southern stock, we're really good about masking feelings and emotions and putting on the strong brave face. We're not good with telling people how we feel and when we do it comes more out of anger than anything else. Considering that the tears I shed earlier this week was the first good cry I've had since my grandmother's passing and I have no idea how long it was before that. Maybe the Great Apartment Fire of 2003.
On the smaller scale, I did a redesign of my template and yes, I'll be changing those pics of the London Tube to something a bit more NYC-ish Update: I already changed the pix). I also removed a lot of links so if I took you off by accident or don't know that I should be linking to you...well...let me know and I'll blogroll you in. Yep...I'm blogrolling now. I consider that to be mildly impressive since I resisted the urge to do it for ages...
So...we'll see how this goes.
The bear, however, is still in the box. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it. I can't think about re-gifting it and I don't know that I want it. There's always eBay but that does seem a little impersonal as well. I'll figure out something. As cute as it is, I don't want it in my apartment anymore.
What's inside the box on Monday was very special but was rendered meaningless on Wednesday.
It's a teddy bear I made at the Build-a-Bear Workshop that was meant to be a Valentines Day gift for SuitMan. A cute "Bearamy" bear outfitted with a set of denim overalls, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat. The woman behind the counter showed it to the manager as "one of the cutest [she] had seen". I even named it after SuitMan's nickname and on the bear's "birth certificate" it even says it was "Lovingly stuffed by Brian."
I didn't buy this for no reason. For the past week or so, we had been making headway towards getting back together one more time and for all intents and purposes, it looked like it was going to be a more long term, let's really try this time, kind of effort. He decided he wanted to try once more as well.
But not with me.
SuitMan begged off on Monday night and we made plans to spend the weekend over at his place when I would present him with the gift. Tuesday, I was out of the office taking care of a few personal things (doctor's appointment, passport, etc), and when I got into the office on Wednesday there was an email from him that he had good and bad news. Apparently, Monday night when he begged off spending some time that evening with me, he had a phone call with the guy he was recently seeing but decided that the two of them weren't compatible for a variety of reasons. That must have been some phone call because he's going to give it a second go with this guy and he abruptly ended our third attempt at whatever you want to call the soap opera of our relationship.
What I thought was a great opportunity for us to finally...FINALLY...get somewhere blew up in my face and not because of anything I did. In hindsight, what really gets to me more than anything else is that he wrote via email that he wants me to be happy for him and his decision to try something again with this guy, who quite incidentally happens to work for the same company that I do.
My emotions, I wrote back (yes, he did all this via email), have been played with and it hurt very much. His response was that I was warned (actually he said "WARNED" in all caps) not to get too emotionally involved with him (which yes, he did say) but as I said to him, saying those words and trying to remain impersonal when you're speaking of things such as exploring a relationship, telling him that, yeah, being his boyfriend would be a great thing, and actually looking forward to spending some serious time with him this coming weekend (not to mention a few sexual conversations) and getting my hopes up for the potential that we're finally getting somewhere...well...I hate to say it, after over a year and everything that has been said and done and hinted at during that entire time, it's hard to NOT have some emotional stake.
Finally, I wrote that I hope it does work out for him because it's never ever going to work for us now. Whatever feelings I had are now, pretty much gone. I've been walking around in this odd funk for the past two days and not really wanting to be around anyone (sorry, guys but that's part of why I didn't show up for the fest at XES). I've been so out of whack since Wednesday morning that I don't even know if I want a friendship with him. I don't really know what I want anymore.
Three times.
Three strikes
He's out.
On the good side of it all (because yes, I'm trying to make something good come out of this), I've decided to start therapy for the first time in about eight years or so. Coming from a strurdy Southern stock, we're really good about masking feelings and emotions and putting on the strong brave face. We're not good with telling people how we feel and when we do it comes more out of anger than anything else. Considering that the tears I shed earlier this week was the first good cry I've had since my grandmother's passing and I have no idea how long it was before that. Maybe the Great Apartment Fire of 2003.
On the smaller scale, I did a redesign of my template and yes, I'll be changing those pics of the London Tube to something a bit more NYC-ish Update: I already changed the pix). I also removed a lot of links so if I took you off by accident or don't know that I should be linking to you...well...let me know and I'll blogroll you in. Yep...I'm blogrolling now. I consider that to be mildly impressive since I resisted the urge to do it for ages...
So...we'll see how this goes.
The bear, however, is still in the box. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it. I can't think about re-gifting it and I don't know that I want it. There's always eBay but that does seem a little impersonal as well. I'll figure out something. As cute as it is, I don't want it in my apartment anymore.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
The End
-----Original Message-----
From: 646Guy
Sent: Wednesday, February 16, 2005 4:34 PM
To: 'SuitMan'
Subject: RE: hello.
I don't think we should talk for a while.
-----Original Message-----
From: SuitMan
Sent: Wednesday, February 16, 2005 4:32 PM
To: 646Guy
Subject: hello.
I am worried about you. Hope you are doing better.
From: 646Guy
Sent: Wednesday, February 16, 2005 4:34 PM
To: 'SuitMan'
Subject: RE: hello.
I don't think we should talk for a while.
-----Original Message-----
From: SuitMan
Sent: Wednesday, February 16, 2005 4:32 PM
To: 646Guy
Subject: hello.
I am worried about you. Hope you are doing better.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
It hurts
One of my co-workers just asked me why I've been in a foul mood since about 10:00 today and if she should fear for her life since I have the look of a deranged serial killer.
I told them it was really none of her business as it was something in my personal life which I don't discuss at work.
Then I went to the bathroom and cried.
Great...not how I wanted this day/week/month/year to be....
I told them it was really none of her business as it was something in my personal life which I don't discuss at work.
Then I went to the bathroom and cried.
Great...not how I wanted this day/week/month/year to be....
Happy Hour
Join the Gotham Knights tonight at the Overlook Lounge from 6-9pm tonight as we serve as the guest bartenders, sell off our infamous jello shots, and, of course, work our raucous raffle for great prizes.
The Overlook Lounge is located at 225 E. 44th Street between 2nd and 3rd Avenue...see you there...
The Overlook Lounge is located at 225 E. 44th Street between 2nd and 3rd Avenue...see you there...
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Post Office Adventures
I went to the post office today to get a replacement passport for the one I lost in the fire in my old apartment building in Washington Heights. Last time I went to get a passport it was a huge ordeal taking three or four trips to make sure I had all of the documentation needed.
Last time I had to present the state issued ID, a copy of my social security card, a copy of a bank card, and have a friend come and fill out the documentation form saying that he had known me for more than 2 years. All of this before they would even stamp my paperwork to send it out.
This time, I came loaded for anything. I had all of the documentation above (along with a friend to come and sign the DS-71) plus a copy of my work ID, a copy of my current 1099 form from last year for my investment portfolio and my 1999 tax return (they said to have something more than five years old). So here I am...I am ready for everything.
I got to the counter with my friend Lisa and I'm prepared for everything. She asks for my ID and I pull out my originals and copies of everything. I'm ready for anything they ask. Lisa's filling out the DS-71 while the woman behind the counter takes out just my state ID card and pushes all of the other documentation I made sure I had copied back through the slot.
All of the painstaking pulling of documents and everything I thought I would need to make sure that it would just be a one trip deal. I kinda got pissed that everything needed to get the passport last time wasn't needed this time but I was just thankful that the process was pretty painless (despite the money I shelled out for expedited service). It's just another step to 2 weeks in Italy.
Last time I had to present the state issued ID, a copy of my social security card, a copy of a bank card, and have a friend come and fill out the documentation form saying that he had known me for more than 2 years. All of this before they would even stamp my paperwork to send it out.
This time, I came loaded for anything. I had all of the documentation above (along with a friend to come and sign the DS-71) plus a copy of my work ID, a copy of my current 1099 form from last year for my investment portfolio and my 1999 tax return (they said to have something more than five years old). So here I am...I am ready for everything.
I got to the counter with my friend Lisa and I'm prepared for everything. She asks for my ID and I pull out my originals and copies of everything. I'm ready for anything they ask. Lisa's filling out the DS-71 while the woman behind the counter takes out just my state ID card and pushes all of the other documentation I made sure I had copied back through the slot.
All of the painstaking pulling of documents and everything I thought I would need to make sure that it would just be a one trip deal. I kinda got pissed that everything needed to get the passport last time wasn't needed this time but I was just thankful that the process was pretty painless (despite the money I shelled out for expedited service). It's just another step to 2 weeks in Italy.
Friday, February 11, 2005
A Salute
I'm sitting here totally stunned to learn about the deal of the great Mike Wolf.
The first time I met Mike was at a blogger bash and the one thing that drew me to him was his laugh. The man had a great laugh and a great look on life that was contagious. You couldn't NOT have a great time around this man. A dry remark, a fabulous quip, nothing let this man down. Always a smile. Always a joke. Just always the person you looked forward to seeing.
The last time I saw Mike was at my 30th birthday party and that's how I'm going to choose to remember him. The smile. The laugh. The great hug he gave me right before I left the bar.
It's rare to meet someone like Mike and there's a large gaping hole in the cosmos that he filled to make this world a better place.
The man will be missed. Greatly and deeply missed. At the next Blogger Bash, we're raising a glass to toast this man...for someone who gave us so much and asking nothing in return, it's the least we can do.
The first time I met Mike was at a blogger bash and the one thing that drew me to him was his laugh. The man had a great laugh and a great look on life that was contagious. You couldn't NOT have a great time around this man. A dry remark, a fabulous quip, nothing let this man down. Always a smile. Always a joke. Just always the person you looked forward to seeing.
The last time I saw Mike was at my 30th birthday party and that's how I'm going to choose to remember him. The smile. The laugh. The great hug he gave me right before I left the bar.
It's rare to meet someone like Mike and there's a large gaping hole in the cosmos that he filled to make this world a better place.
The man will be missed. Greatly and deeply missed. At the next Blogger Bash, we're raising a glass to toast this man...for someone who gave us so much and asking nothing in return, it's the least we can do.
IQ = 138
There are days I feel like a fucking genius...as if I've just come up with the most brilliant ideas in the world. I like taking those online IQ tests because I like feeling smart on occasion (and yes, according to the last test I took, my IQ is indeed 138).
It could be an idea for one of my writing projects of something I'm working on for the team but there are ideas that just pop into my head and I feel like the smartest person on the face of the planet.
That is of course until I actually have to execute the idea, realize how intensive it actually is, and then I want to slit my wrists (I leave seppuku to the masters...) when I feel I've gotten in over my head.
Let's see what happens after I mail off 270 letters and send out about 400 emails. I may slit my wrists not because the task itself was a little larger than I expected, but because I'm innundated with how successful it was.
This could get scary.
It could be an idea for one of my writing projects of something I'm working on for the team but there are ideas that just pop into my head and I feel like the smartest person on the face of the planet.
That is of course until I actually have to execute the idea, realize how intensive it actually is, and then I want to slit my wrists (I leave seppuku to the masters...) when I feel I've gotten in over my head.
Let's see what happens after I mail off 270 letters and send out about 400 emails. I may slit my wrists not because the task itself was a little larger than I expected, but because I'm innundated with how successful it was.
This could get scary.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
PAY ATTENTION DAMMIT!
I'm tired of having to repeat myself.
Pay attention.
When I say something, I say it for a reason.
Pay attention.
I can understand if you don't remember something I said six months ago. But when I've said it less than hour before, that's inexcusable.
Pay attention.
You want to waste my time and yours rehashing everything in painstaking detail because you think you may have questions?
Pay attention.
If you have questions, ask them. Otherwise, your silence means assent and comprehension. Have questions six months later? Tough.
Pay attention.
If I can keep my mind focused on the subject at hand, you can as well.
Pay attention.
Pay attention.
FUCKING PAY ATTENTION.
...
Don't make me have to hurt you.
Oh and enjoy the painstaking two hour presentation going over every little detail. To paraphrase Vincent Canby, it will be about as enjoyable as being given a four hour walking tour of your own living room.
Pay attention.
When I say something, I say it for a reason.
Pay attention.
I can understand if you don't remember something I said six months ago. But when I've said it less than hour before, that's inexcusable.
Pay attention.
You want to waste my time and yours rehashing everything in painstaking detail because you think you may have questions?
Pay attention.
If you have questions, ask them. Otherwise, your silence means assent and comprehension. Have questions six months later? Tough.
Pay attention.
If I can keep my mind focused on the subject at hand, you can as well.
Pay attention.
Pay attention.
FUCKING PAY ATTENTION.
...
Don't make me have to hurt you.
Oh and enjoy the painstaking two hour presentation going over every little detail. To paraphrase Vincent Canby, it will be about as enjoyable as being given a four hour walking tour of your own living room.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Put Up or Shut Up
It's not that I mind the litany of suggestions that I've gotten over the past week or so in relation to my rugby team's annual auction.
It's more that the number of suggestions (and the lunacy of some of them) are really starting to get on my nerves which prompted me to say the following in regards to one high bidder last year that someone felt might not have been "appreciated" enough:
"What do you want me to do suck his dick?"
My new mantra: "Thanks. I'll take that under advisement."
New Mantra Translated: "Fuck off."
It's more that the number of suggestions (and the lunacy of some of them) are really starting to get on my nerves which prompted me to say the following in regards to one high bidder last year that someone felt might not have been "appreciated" enough:
"What do you want me to do suck his dick?"
My new mantra: "Thanks. I'll take that under advisement."
New Mantra Translated: "Fuck off."
Monday, February 07, 2005
It's a Monday
I'm at work. It's not like I want to be here but I am.
I'll survive.
I have so much to do but no time not to mention no money.
I tried doing my taxes again this year. I gave up. Someone referred me to a man whose scruples in the world of doing tax returns are a little shady (but never drawing the attention of the IRS). I may look him up. Then again I may take the $104 return I calculated and offset it with the $140 I would owe in state taxes and pretty much call it even.
I dunno.
It's a Monday and I'm here people. I'm just fucking here.
Good times and bum times,
I've seen them all and, my dear,
I'm still here.
Plush velvet sometimes,
Sometimes just pretzels and beer,
But I'm here.
I've stuffed the dailies
In my shoes.
Strummed ukuleles,
Sung the blues,
Seen all my dreams disappear,
But I'm here.
I've slept in shanties,
Guest of the W.P.A.,
But I'm here.
Danced in my scanties,
Three bucks a night was the pay,
But I'm here.
I've stood on bread lines
With the best,
Watched while the headlines
Did the rest.
In the Depression was I depressed?
Nowhere near.
I met a big financier
And I'm here.
I've been through Gandhi,
Windsor and Wally's affair,
And I'm here.
Amos 'n' Andy,
Mah-jongg and platinum hair,
And I'm here.
I got through Abie's
Irish Rose,
Five Dionne babies,
Major Bowes,
Had heebie-jeebies
For Beebe's
Bathysphere.
I lived through Brenda Frazier
And I'm here.
I've gotten through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover,
Gee, that was fun and a half.
When you've been through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover,
Anything else is a laugh.
I've been through Reno.
I've been through Beverly Hills,
And I'm here.
Reefers and vino,
Rest cures, religion and pills,
And I'm here
Been called a pinko
Commie tool,
Got through it stinko
By my pool.
I should have gone to an acting school.
That seems clear,
Still, someone said, 'She's sincere,'
So I'm here.
Black sable one day.
Next day it goes into hock,
But I'm here.
Top billing Monday,
Tuesday you're touring in stock,
But I'm here.
First you're another
Sloe-eyed vamp,
Then someone's mother,
Then you're camp.
Then you career from career
To career.
I'm almost through my memoirs.
And I'm here.
I've gotten through 'Hey, lady, aren't you whoozis?
Wow! What a looker you were.'
Or, better yet, 'Sorry, I thought you were whoozis.
Whatever happened to her?'
Good times and bum times,
I've seen 'em all and, my dear,
I'm still here.
Flush velvet sometimes,
Sometimes just pretzels and beer,
But I'm here.
I've run the gamut.
A to Z.
Three cheers and dammit,
C'est la vie.
I got through all of last year
And I'm here.
Lord knows, at least I was there,
And I'm here!
Look who's here!
I'm still here!
I'll survive.
I have so much to do but no time not to mention no money.
I tried doing my taxes again this year. I gave up. Someone referred me to a man whose scruples in the world of doing tax returns are a little shady (but never drawing the attention of the IRS). I may look him up. Then again I may take the $104 return I calculated and offset it with the $140 I would owe in state taxes and pretty much call it even.
I dunno.
It's a Monday and I'm here people. I'm just fucking here.
Good times and bum times,
I've seen them all and, my dear,
I'm still here.
Plush velvet sometimes,
Sometimes just pretzels and beer,
But I'm here.
I've stuffed the dailies
In my shoes.
Strummed ukuleles,
Sung the blues,
Seen all my dreams disappear,
But I'm here.
I've slept in shanties,
Guest of the W.P.A.,
But I'm here.
Danced in my scanties,
Three bucks a night was the pay,
But I'm here.
I've stood on bread lines
With the best,
Watched while the headlines
Did the rest.
In the Depression was I depressed?
Nowhere near.
I met a big financier
And I'm here.
I've been through Gandhi,
Windsor and Wally's affair,
And I'm here.
Amos 'n' Andy,
Mah-jongg and platinum hair,
And I'm here.
I got through Abie's
Irish Rose,
Five Dionne babies,
Major Bowes,
Had heebie-jeebies
For Beebe's
Bathysphere.
I lived through Brenda Frazier
And I'm here.
I've gotten through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover,
Gee, that was fun and a half.
When you've been through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover,
Anything else is a laugh.
I've been through Reno.
I've been through Beverly Hills,
And I'm here.
Reefers and vino,
Rest cures, religion and pills,
And I'm here
Been called a pinko
Commie tool,
Got through it stinko
By my pool.
I should have gone to an acting school.
That seems clear,
Still, someone said, 'She's sincere,'
So I'm here.
Black sable one day.
Next day it goes into hock,
But I'm here.
Top billing Monday,
Tuesday you're touring in stock,
But I'm here.
First you're another
Sloe-eyed vamp,
Then someone's mother,
Then you're camp.
Then you career from career
To career.
I'm almost through my memoirs.
And I'm here.
I've gotten through 'Hey, lady, aren't you whoozis?
Wow! What a looker you were.'
Or, better yet, 'Sorry, I thought you were whoozis.
Whatever happened to her?'
Good times and bum times,
I've seen 'em all and, my dear,
I'm still here.
Flush velvet sometimes,
Sometimes just pretzels and beer,
But I'm here.
I've run the gamut.
A to Z.
Three cheers and dammit,
C'est la vie.
I got through all of last year
And I'm here.
Lord knows, at least I was there,
And I'm here!
Look who's here!
I'm still here!
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Because he doesn't....
I haven't said anything political in a while...Taken from the delightful Wonkette...this is taken from a live chat with Newsweek's Baghdad Bureau Chief...
Hellowell, ME: why does Bush care so much about what happens in Iraq when there are so many poor, sick, poverty-stricken people in the U.S.?
Rod Nordland: Who said he cares?
****
And then there was this comedienne on Comedy Central this weekend who riffed on Tom Ridge and the Department of Homeland Security and their declaration that we're all deputies on the war on terror. They advised to be wary of pregnant women as they may be terrorist.
Her suggestion: Whenever you see a pregnant woman, just go up and hit her in the stomach.
That and her riff on how there are job listings for the homeless on the Department of Labor website had me cracking up...
Hellowell, ME: why does Bush care so much about what happens in Iraq when there are so many poor, sick, poverty-stricken people in the U.S.?
Rod Nordland: Who said he cares?
****
And then there was this comedienne on Comedy Central this weekend who riffed on Tom Ridge and the Department of Homeland Security and their declaration that we're all deputies on the war on terror. They advised to be wary of pregnant women as they may be terrorist.
Her suggestion: Whenever you see a pregnant woman, just go up and hit her in the stomach.
That and her riff on how there are job listings for the homeless on the Department of Labor website had me cracking up...
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Nothing you do...
I've already gotten three bitchy phone calls from a coworker that I cover for about things that I "messed up" while he was out. I'm not a mind reader how am I supposed to know that the lines in the Excel spreadsheet that were hidden ABOVE the chart the last time are now BELOW the chart this time?
Nothing I do for this man has ever been right or will ever be right. I'm trying to learn to accept it and double and triple check everything that I do for him but he still manages to find SOMETHING wrong.
It's starting to really piss me off.
Nothing I do for this man has ever been right or will ever be right. I'm trying to learn to accept it and double and triple check everything that I do for him but he still manages to find SOMETHING wrong.
It's starting to really piss me off.
You're not Gracie....
So I ran into this guy (love him, he's adorable, cute as pie, smart as hell, the author of a fabulous book of haiku, and his boyfriend is damn lucky to have him) on the subway last night. Now, I knew it was him. Was positive it was him. Granted, he had his head down and was doing some writing while on the subway so I couldn'st see his full face but I was sure that it was him. However, I had that nagging feeling that if I said, "Faustus?" out loud and it wasn't him that I would really feel like an ass.
It's happened before. Very publicly. And very embarassing.
I swore this woman was my friend Cheryl (aka Gracie). So sure was I that this was Gracie that I ran up behind her at the mall in Florida, hugged her from behind, and screamed, "GRACIE!!!!"
It wasn't Gracie. The woman, up close, bore no resemblance to her. I'm not sure what the people at Smoothie King had slipped my Power Punch Plus smoothie but my vision had to have been seriously affected to think that this woman was my friend Cheryl. I then began to apologize profusely to her and thankfully she had a good sense of humor and didn't beat me senseless with her purse.
I booked an appointment with the eye doctor the next day.
Thankfully for me on this occasion it was indeed the adorable Faustus who looked up from his writing and cast a glance in my direction. And then another just to make sure it was me and then smiled. Whew...okay. It was him. I wouldn't have made an ass out of myself. But after Grace-Gate, I'm not taking any chances.
It's happened before. Very publicly. And very embarassing.
I swore this woman was my friend Cheryl (aka Gracie). So sure was I that this was Gracie that I ran up behind her at the mall in Florida, hugged her from behind, and screamed, "GRACIE!!!!"
It wasn't Gracie. The woman, up close, bore no resemblance to her. I'm not sure what the people at Smoothie King had slipped my Power Punch Plus smoothie but my vision had to have been seriously affected to think that this woman was my friend Cheryl. I then began to apologize profusely to her and thankfully she had a good sense of humor and didn't beat me senseless with her purse.
I booked an appointment with the eye doctor the next day.
Thankfully for me on this occasion it was indeed the adorable Faustus who looked up from his writing and cast a glance in my direction. And then another just to make sure it was me and then smiled. Whew...okay. It was him. I wouldn't have made an ass out of myself. But after Grace-Gate, I'm not taking any chances.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)