*BRAIN BLEACH ALERT*

There's a first time for everything.


I must admit that last night was the first time I'd ever seen someone who could use their ass for a carpenter's square. The mullet just adds class.

Don't eat at Taco Bell. This could be you.

A moment of *profound* introspection

Some people would call my bluff on this whole post, but you and I know who you are and just shut it, OK?

With a loud voice that is usually talking/singing/inflicting wisdom upon others, sometimes it is missed, but as a musician, usually my soul speaks loudest through song. The tonality and timbre wrought by my hands speak louder than my voice, and tell more about me than my snarky anecdotes.

Usually weather is a moderate determinant of my mood/choice of music, and the change from summer to fall always makes me maudlin. Autumn is my favorite season--the crisp air, the bite of the clear, cold evenings before they become the norm, the unshakable feeling that another year is marching to a close (usually without me)--the former make me happy, and the latter makes me sad. I spend a great deal of time/energy between October and December contemplating meaning, purpose, and idealism. Several who know me well have noted the difference in my attitude in the fall, going into the holidays, and have mentioned it. Now it's (sort of) explained.

This morning, I was driving to work through the early-morning pre-autumn haze zoning to a soundtrack that in turns seems to be rousing or soothing depending on the situation. Those that know me well would recognize the soundtrack; those who don't would likely not understand. This morning, one song in particular spoke to me as purely as if it were my own. It echoed my feelings toward the day -- toward the season. The keening wails at the beginning, countered by pure melodic tonality. The shape of the melody, while using rhythm to suspend reality and forward motion. The subtle fading from tonality back into the sighs and wails, and the gradual slip into the next movement, characterized with a swell to a boys choir and complete timbre and quality change through a pipe organ hymn. Fantastic stuff, that.

When I get home, I may post the song. If not I'll let you live in wonder. It doesn't really matter all that much which song it is--I'm sure that each of you have a song that is the same to you.

Life is grand

79-10 and new footwear. Does life get better than this?



...and I was there all the way to the fabulous end, baby!!!

Now I sound like a man, and I'm sure that my voice will return by Friday. In time to be lost again at next week's game. Woot! Maybe I should take this opportunity to take a temp job with a 1-900 number... ;-)


Oh, and on a side note, the shoes are MINE (along with three other not-quite-so-fab pairs and an incredible purse)!

Older and Wiser?

Some of you may remember the fandamntastic time I had tutoring my Sis with calculus last summer...and you will recall that I am now enrolled in my final semester of graduate school, which requires a calculus-based economics course. Oh the never-ending bliss.

So as to be true to my usually snarky M.O., I decided to call Sis to ask if she would like to be my math tutor. Her hubby is yelling over the phone the following:

Me: Hey-a, sis! You wanna be my calc tutor?
Sis: Are you sane?
Hubby: Tell her that I'll help her with her calculus! I'll be over in 30 minutes!
Sis (to Hubby): Shut-up...you don't know math!
Hubby: 30 minutes!
Me: Fsck you.
Hubby: 20 minutes!

Hell, who says I need to attend an economics class?!? I think that was a pretty clear-cut supply and demand problem right there, friends and neighbors.

I'm in love.*

So those that know me know that I am a shoe-a-holic. In a bad way. In my current place, they have their own closet. I've found my new objets d'affection. And they're in my price range. Find these shoes coming to feet near you...








*It's such a pity that this statement only refers to material items...or is it?

Sometimg new and unexpcted

Today is my dad's birthday. I decided to give him some slack since I've not talked to him since last March (as in 2006), so I emailed him birthday wishes. It only took him 2.5 hours to get back to me, and even signed the note "Love, Dad."

Will wonders never cease.

Of all the bonehead things...

WHOA. Nutcase Knight just took the cake for the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Before I write this story, please be aware that this woman is BRILLIANT. As in seriously one of the brightest people I (sort of) know.

After the Great Mold Debacle of 20 Aught 7, NK has decided to move. She has changed her mind 17 times on the location of her new residence, but alas, she has finally decided upon one (for now). She called Sir Knight earlier to ensure that he would be available on her chosen moving date to schlep her computer from its current house to the new place. He inquired as to why she couldn't give it to the movers with the rest of her stuff, to which she replied, "I'm not sure how to move it."

Sir Knight's response to that statement was somewhere in the vicinity of "Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.?!?"
NK: "Well, I really don't know if I should unplug it."
SK: "You shouldn't. You're just going to have to leave it plugged in here and go downtown and buy a REALLY long extension cord."

LMAO. ...until this exchange about 2 minutes before I started writing this post:

*Ring, ring*
Me: "Slugfest, this is Clarinazi, can I help you?"
NK: "Is Sir Knight in?"

(Does this look familiar?)

Me: "Let me check."
Me (on intercom with SK): "If you want to sneak out, I won't turn around for thirty seconds then I can claim ignorance."
SK: "Is it NK or the Lion King?"
Me: "NK."
SK: *sigh*

...apparently she was calling to let him know that his services are no longer necessary. She had called the computer store, and the guy there had assured her that it was OK to leave her computer unplugged for more than five minutes.

Actually, she was amazed that he didn't seem concerned about when she decided to plug her computer back in at all.

DAMN. I bet that phone call made that techie's day. ;-)

Most decidedly something of interest...

The LawDog Files: Oh, hello!


I was (somehow) unaware of Amazon.com doing this...I know you can find pretty much anything online, but this is horrid. The publishing of this is bad enough, but selling it by choice?

I don't choose. Do you?

Engrish, anyone?

I know all of you have had teachers/professors/coworkers who you really didn't understand. I don't mean "understand" as from a philosophical standpoint, but "understand" as in you can't tell what they're bloody saying as they're talking to you--usually imparting very important knowledge. Like the knowledge that your HUGE assignment that was supposed to be due at the end of the semester is now due at the beginning.

I have one of these this semester (profs, not projects). ARGH! Drives me nuts! (Hah! Drives me nuts!) Anyway, he also teaches at the pace of the Galapagos tortoise. Seriously. In three hours we covered roughly ONE TOPIC. No joke. One. Over and over and over and...

Maybe I should ride the class out on his shell. By the end of the semester, I'd have made it from my desk to, oh, halfway across the room.

Clarinazi, 1; Swampdonkey, 0

Thank the Gods and little fishies!!!!!! This is a day for the history books. This morning, Swampdonkey's boss called Sir Knight and set up a meeting for this afternoon between the four of us. I know SD's boss from another program that I do for Queen Bee, and through that program, she learned of my accounting and financial background...

So today Sir Knight schlep all our stuff up to the meeting (topic unknown), and sit down to chat with Swampdonkey et al. From this battle meeting, Clarinazi and Sir Knight emerge victorious---

SWAMPDONKEY WILL NO LONGER BE THE CLAIMS PROCESSOR FOR MY SECTION!!!! As of August 1, 2007, I will be doing all the claims work since (in SD's boss’s words) “you have a strong background in financial accounting.”

SCORE!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you game, set, and match.

This is so stuck in my head

So I'm going to share.
I think it's one of the top 5 songs EVER. It'll cost you just a nickel. Riiiight.

It's only 11:13???

This morning has been interesting. My hands are battered and bloody from stuffing 1100 poster and letters into mailing tubes. I had help--two inmates from the nearby women's prison work here, and the guy they work for graciously asked if I'd like them to help me. It's nice to know that there are nice people around. We knocked out what was looking like a two day job in about 2.5 hours. I'm tired. My brain hurts from my calc-econ class. I'm going to hide under my desk and take a nap.

Swampdonkey Rides Again

Look out world, Swampdonkey's on the loose!

We all know her antics, but ye gods and little fishies! Here in the office, we place overs and unders on (1) the percentage of claims that will be needlessly returned, and (2) the timeframe in which they will be returned.

Well, the day of the last Swampdonkey post saw another 14 claims sent to be paid. Yesterday, ALL 14 came back to me for wrong budgets. I'm sorry, but I have an MBA in accounting that should say to her, "HEY, ASSHAT! CLARINAZI KNOWS HOW TO BUDGET!" but obviously doesn't.

She laid the claims in my outstretched hand, and promptly walked out the door before I could close my mouth. 100 pages of claims, returned for no reason. The red faded from my vision, and I went, claims in paw, to Sir Knight. He looked up and asked what it was, and I told him (and this really is a quote), "That cow sent all these back and the budgets were attached!"

So Sir Knight, having little clue as to what was going on, decides to have a meeting in Swampdonkey's office. He tells me to bring all the paperwork I have, so reams of paper in hand, we trot into her office. We sit, and by this time, she is visibly shaking. Geez. I tell her that there were budgets attached to each of the claims in question and showed her a new claim with said budget attached...and she said, I know. AND PICKS UP A PILE OF BUDGETS FROM HER DESK! Is this woman for real?!?

The whole time she's been reading the budgets wrong. Imagine that. "Incorrect budget" is slug for "it's sitting on my desk, but I can't understand English and Arabic numerals enough to transfer them into an identical computer screen."

Freaking save me from the morons. Incompetence, ineptitude, and idocy are the three "I"s of my life. GRR. Defenestration, anyone???

My kind of exercise plan

I got this from a friend, and I think that this is my exercise plan of choice. It's a three-day-a-week plan...looks good to me!!!

Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room at each side. With a 5-lb potato sack in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, then relax. Each day, you'll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer.

After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato sacks. Then 50-lb potato sacks, and then eventually try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato sack in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute.

After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each of the sacks.

WOOT!

Your government at work

So I was on my way to the good ole' State Capitol yesterday, and I saw the funniest series of classic slug work going on EVER. I had my camera but it was lunchtime, so there was nowhere to stop and avoid getting turned into roadkill...pity! So instead, I'll try to paint (a rather inadequate) picture for you.

On the north side of the State Capitol, there is a grassy median about two miles long that is built up so it looks like a mini-hill in the middle of the road. On the far north end of the hill-median, 7 workers were busy digging a hole. Well, truthfully, 1 was digging the hole and 6 consultants were standing by in a half-circle surrounding him. They all wore Day-Glo clothing and safety vests. The consultants didn't even have tools!!! I almost wrecked the car laughing.

Then I came over the hill. And almost wrecked the car again laughing.

Remember when you were in kindergarten or day care and every time you were going somewhere outside the complex, the teacher had a rope that you held/tied to your wrist so that no child was left behind? (HA! Pun totally intended...)

The second mile of grassy median is downhill toward the Capitol building. From the top of the hill, workers were lined up single file pulling a large flat tube (looked like a ribbon). Just like kindergarten children, there were long spaces of no people, then clumps of 5-10 in a 20 foot section. This was stretched along three turning medians (about a half-mile), so there were about 30 cars waiting for the line of workers to get to where they were going. LOL!!!!!! I almost wet myself.

Aww...

I feel like family. How amazing is it that two of my fave bloggers have found each other--and love each other. Brought tears to my eyes.

AD + Babs = 4ever

Aww!

WTF?!?

So I'm back at work after a harrowing weekend, and some asshat has turned on the HEATER in my office. Yes, the whole building. The thermometer next door showed 98 degrees at 8:00 am. They blamed it on the weather.

Oh, the electricity went off this weekend...and when it came back on, the HEATER WAS ON! Oh my!

Kill me now. Please.

Did you say HURRICANE?

...so now I can list myself among those who have survived a hurricane.


In Oklahoma.


Yes. I said "hurricane" not "tornado" ... my hometown is practically devastated, and I skipped out on the church gig this morning due to the fact that there was not a whole road between my house and the church. Then I tried to go with mom to get Nanna from the farm...and there wasn't a whole road there either. Took from 9:30 am until roughly 4:00 pm to get to a town that was one hour away from the house.

I have tons of pictures. Here are just a few:

This used to be the Watonga airport.

This was the Sonic.

This is looking north from Hwy. 33 and Noble

The grocery

By the cemetery


Hwy. 33 and Burford

South of town
(Yes, that IS a fence with a 4 ft. sign saying Keep Out...obviously Mother Nature took offense.)

The farm

One of our rent houses...you can't see the 4 x 4 pickup under the tree...

I have tons of others. If you're interested, let me know, and I'll get them to you.

The Red Cross was in town to help out. There is no power in the town at all, and everyone is at a loss for what to do. If you're inclined that way, the road is now open, so you can head out to help, and prayers don't require mileage.

Ever feel like you're in an alternate universe?

Today started out like any other day. I woke up, talked to a friend, and decided I was going to practice bells for a while. Went out to do some errands with mom, and that was where the "normal" ended. After we got home, I asked her if she'd go check out an apartment with me just to poke around and see what was available. We ended up looking at this place that was identical to another complex I lived in sometime in my past, but on the other side of town, and really liking it. ...and there was one vacancy coming up in the floor plan that I liked ... and it was on the back of the complex facing a creek and related flora. I decided that it was God smiling (through the rain) and signed a lease. I'll be moving there September 14-15. ZOMG! So now I'm freaking out like a bad trip and wondering if I did the right thing.

Pros: Almost all my friends live around there; it's 25 miles closer to church and 40 miles closer to school; a 7-month lease will only put me 2 months past what I'd be doing if I were to leave here after school anyway; it's a mile shorter to the Slug Haven...but the time will be about 10 minutes longer (con)

Cons: It's expensive, and lonely.

Am I really ready to live alone again? Eeep!

You only thought I was kidding

When I say that I work with a bunch of nutcases, please don't think that I am speaking metaphorically. Everything I describe here, or in person with you, REALLY happens (as hard as it is sometimes to believe).

And now let's add another ... deity to the pantheon. I'm not sure whether to call it a god or a goddess, but here it is...



Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is a photo of a man that I work with. He often goes to that big city down south to moonlight as "Angelique" but usually is restrained to the occasional eyeliner or mascara during working hours. Most people here don't know, but apparently now the word is out! (I knew long ago, but knowing and KNOWING are two different things...) He is on leave, but he came to work dressed like this today for his photo op. The picture doesn't do justice to the four-inch stilettos that would make me cringe and the mini-skirt that left little to the imagination.

A few weeks ago, he drags into my office needing some eyeliner. I offered to sell him some, as I do that sort of thing often, but he declined...he wanted it to be APPLIED not purchased...so I did.

Presenting the best and brightest this great state has to offer.

So Dave and I went to the Earth, Wind, and Fire concert last night. On a "Shit to Chicago" scale, we gave them about a 7.5.

...but the PEOPLE who attended? They got a freakin' 10 on the "Holy shit, Batman" scale. Case in point:

Might we present: Elton John as a black woman (with fake hair)?

---

Me: What do you think happened to her hair?
Dave: A weedwhacker? What do you think?
Me: Maybe mange.

---

Before the show, the following screens were showing the upcoming events and concerts for the venue. (Note that these screens were being shown to the WHOLE venue--not just in the theater where we were.)

Tickets to see Al Green: $65





Going to see Loretta Lynn (including drinks): $50








Using spell checker before 5,000 people know you are, in fact, a moron: Priceless

An open letter to the general gathering of Bugscuffle First United Bretheren Gossips Church

For all you burgeoning Adamses out there, our church is NOT the time or place. Our music--the choice of hymns, as well as their placement within the service--has a PURPOSE. Do you really believe that somebody sat down with a hymnal, a calendar, and a blindfold and went to town? There is a PURPOSE to music in worship. That purpose is to enhance the scripture and textual message of the day. In this vein, we work very hard to ensure that the texts and hymns are appropriate for the service.

Before you go off on random staff members about choosing too many different (read: new) hymns for your minimalist taste, maybe you should take a moment of profound introspection. Ask yourself "why did we sing that?" or if you insist upon playing the part of the music critic, please think of a new angle. The "how does Herr Preacher think we'll sing boisterously if we don't know the hymn" one has already been used. Ad nauseum.

If you are too lazy to think up a new argument, please at least consider this scenario:

You, a devout attendee of this blessed church since your Grandma was sainted (God rest her soul), know the "Top Ten" out of our hymnal, and have since you were a child. Do you ever wonder why our hymnal is longer than ten pages? If so, I'll tell you. It is because although The Old Rugged Cross and Victory in Jesus are your all-time favorites, the person sitting next to you in your cushy pew is particularly averse to Victory in Jesus. As a matter of fact, her favorite hymn is one that you, as a long-time church member, have likely NEVER HEARD BEFORE, let alone sung under Grandma's tutelage.

As the ringleader of the committee that chooses the service music (and the rest of service, for that matter), it is my duty to serve all the congregants, not just YOU, my narrow-minded musical bigot. I have at least one degree that states why I am on staff at the church. That degree also implies that I do not know how to run your committee. I don't intrude upon your ice cream socials and potluck dinners and tell you how to run your meetings. Please have a care and return the favor.

Introducing.....Swampdonkey

Today we inaugurate a new goddess into the pantheon: Swampdonkey. In the big picture, those such as her play a small but vital role. Swampdonkeys are the women people love to hate. They are rude. They are ugly. They breed in the southern Everglades.

Swampdonkey is the claims processor for my division. She has little intelligence and less common sense. We have had an ongoing feud for as long as I've been making claims for this section. This week has brought to light a speeded-up version of the goings-on in her peabrain.

In order to process a claim, the budgeted amount must meet or exceed the claimed amount in whatever 16-digit long category you're working with. In order to expedite this process, I usually make the claim, compare it to the budget, note the discrepancies, amend the budget, forge the appropriate signatures, then attach the shiny new budget perpendicular to the claim (so that both are obvious)...

Last Thursday, I did the aforementioned process upon ten different claims. Of them, half came back to me due to true errors on the parts of the claimmakers (at the districts--I can't fix this one)...and the other half came back due to INCORRECT BUDGETS.

OK, Swampdonkey. How do you NOT SEE the front page of each of those claims...yes, that one. The page that says "BUDGET" at the top, followed by a matrix of numbers that MATCH THE CLAIM.

---

After I got over my mottled rage at the returned claims, I took a peek at the reasoning behind the return of the other claims...and found this note on one of them (note that my program, though housed in a state department, is a federal program):

"I will need a law regarding this claim. The items claimed on this report are against the State Constitution. Although your project is Federal, the State Constitution comes over the Federal regulations, and therefore, this claim will not be paid."

WHAT?!?

Cow. Send this woman back to high school civics.

---

Swampdonkey reporting for duty.

There aren't words

...except maybe "the women say 5 words over and over...does that REALLY require choir folders?!?"

Check out Sweet Home Alabama on YouTube for another good chuckle.

---


On other topics that preclude words: I finally heard from LIW today. She's coming back part time on Monday. That'll be FUN.

Oh My Freaking God

This is so hysterical!!!

Someone actually wrote fake English lyrics to the Indian version of Thriller. Double damn.

To all classical music connoiseurs...

For all of you to whom this looks familiar: Those of us on the stage hate you. No, really. Do NOT clap between movements. Do not clap during movements. As a matter of fact, do not MOVE during movements. The title is misleading. To move is to be castrated with a plastic spork.

Apparently the public just isn't ready.

Activision Reports Sluggish Sales For Sousaphone Hero

SANTA MONICA, CA— "I played in career mode for hours and kept feeling like I was playing the same annoying circus tune over and over," complained a disappointed gamer.

It must be a slow news day...

Here are some random news articles to tickle your interest today...happy reading!

The funniest part of this article is the fact that the previous record holder was Chinese!!! HAHAHAHAH!


Ouch!


There are not words...maybe holy shit comes close.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. Over?

Does this guy REALLY believe that because it was before sunrise, no one would see him?!?

Would it be horrid of me to wish to see him defrocked? (groan) I have to admit, I do have a deep desire to see a priest get defrocked for being defrocked...

My favorite part: "If convicted of indecent exposure, a misdemeanor, he would have to register as a sex offender, prosecutors said." Haha! Imagine that! A priest registered as a sex offender...and no altar boy in sight!

It's new and "improved"

No, you aren't going crazy. Yes, the look of ye ole' venting page has changed. Comment and let me know what you think of the new look!

First there was the iPod...

then the iPod shuffle...then the iPod flea.

Now we have the iPhone, and the newest in the iFamily, the iPhone Shuffle!

Mom, I want this and the iPod flea for Christmas.

...and for those who are more business-minded,

we find this. Yes, it's been around a while, but it's so true!!! (and a big GRR to Google--it wouldn't link the video!)

Merger video

Calling all musicians

So I know that those of you who spend multitudes of your time talking/texting/being otherwise entertained by yours truly have already seen this. Even then, it's been on my mind and therefore worthy of another mention.

I've been saying this for years, and it's truly amazing to me that there is another out there who agrees!

My cross-eyed bear*

I know that I have several crosses to bear, but the one that drives me the most nuts is not QB (surprise), it is Organgrinder. QB gets the most time of my life, and therefore the most interest, but Organgrinder packs the punches in the small time she is allotted. I've never written of her exploits, but they are pervasive in my life and strewn throughout the last several years. Here is the history and most recent Organgrinder story to perk up your Monday. (Perk = it didn't happen to you.)

Organgrinder is a newly-turned 86-year-old church musician who has been playing in my particular church since around the time Christ was born (she doesn't need to sing the Christmas cantata--she was evicted from the barn so that the manger could be taken through the first-ever recorded case of eminent domain).

Throughout her time on this earth, she has taken a cumulative total of approximately 1.743 years of music lessons. As in on any instrument--not organgrinder lessons. Which means that in her whole life, she has had lessons for approximately 90 days. (Assuming the normal one lesson per week teaching method)...which means that for one day for each year of her life, she has spent a little time learning about how to be a better musician. I hate to be a snob, but Christ on a crutch! That's a pretty low bar to clear.

I know that she knows she's inept, just unable to vocalize the sentiment. Every time that Herr Preacher publicly thanks the musicians during service, Capellmeister and I nod thoughtfully and park ourselves back on the pew/piano bench. Organgrinder, however, springs from her bench (as much as a fake hip allows), makes her way to the microphone to give her thanks and acceptance speech. The speech never fails to please. It always begins with, "Well, I know I'm not as good a musician as Clarinazi, but..." and it always encompasses her ~2 years of music lessons (as if that's an accomplishment?!?) and her gratitude for being allowed to be the half-cent organgrinder for the blessed congregants.

Organgrinder's instrument is (forcibly) made to sound like something that would *grace* a funeral parlor. Sometimes it is even more audible, and those times are practically cringe-worthy since the music is (still) unidentifiable due to the music lesson crisis noted above. After services, several congregants have approached me, and asked in a stage whisper, "Clarinazi, do you know what the offertory was?" Uh, yeah? It was the sound of two blue whales humping?

Organgrinder finds our praise band rather contentious. Anything the praise band does, whether good or bad, earns the next-to-highest shrieking on record. Of particular shriekyness is my mere existence. It seems that the bulk of her wrath is aimed toward yours truly, and when I play with the praise band, watch out world. Last weekend she didn't even wait for the congregation to absent itself before throwing her purse at the youth minister (the singer du jour) and shrieking like a banshee about how the guitars were too loud, punctuating her outburst with staccato heel clicks as she limped ass in retreat. Um, excuse me, but it was a ROCK tune...and all that implies. I'm not a normal fan of loud obnoxious music, and I liked this since it was well-blended, etc. Even if you don't like it, which is your right, you do NOT have a right to castigate other staff publicly (or anyone else, for that matter).

So, needless to say, Organgrinder and I are not bosom buddies. She's generally nice to me as long as we are not in the sanctuary, but even this nicety takes me aback. This said, let us talk about yesterday.

Cappellmeister and I (along with the rest of the worship committee--that includes Organgrinder, though she NEVER attends) decided to once again attempt to get the congregants to sing during Communion. Not a lot to ask, and we figured if we did only the first verses to songs they know, we'd get a good response. To fill the rest of the time, I'd do an improv/half-scored bit on whatever the song of the moment happened to be. Herr Preacher had nicely put a copy of the first hymn changes and the lead sheet (sans chords) for the Communion music on the organ, with a note that if Organgrinder wished to have the score for the Communion music, it was on the piano with her name on it. She did not take the bait, and after services concluded yesterday, went apeshit on Cappellmeister for the oversight. (Um, excuse me, but what does the Cap have to do with you being inept?!?) Capellmeister told her that if she had a problem with the instrumental stuff to talk to me since that was my domain (go Cap!), but by the time I had finished jamming on the sending forth song, Organgrinder was nowhere to be found. Excellent.

Is it just me or if you look at the bulletin on Saturday (when she practices) and notice that things are not as expected, wouldn't you CALL SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT?!? But alas, she just chastises us in public and pays a visit upon Herr Preacher come Monday. Next time that crazy broad says anything to me in a raised voice with anyone else around, shit will fly. I warned Herr Preacher the last time something like this happened (a couple months ago, she hit me in the chest with a book she chunked at me since I didn't tell her that the bells were playing for the pre-offertory or some such...I drew a line in the sand with Herr Preacher followed by "her or me.")

Damn. Now I'm all riled up and don't have anywhere to go to punch someone. I'm fairly certain that if I'd take myself belowstairs, QB wouldn't appreciate it.




*a veiled reference to Alanis Morisette...'and the "cross-eyed bear" you gave to me'...

Facebook is addictive

So I joined facebook around 6:30 or so tonight, and I'm still hangin' out there...damn, it's like the meth of the internet!

How do these people find me?

In everyone's life there are a few people who seem a few fries short of a Happy Meal. While these people are the spice of life, most people's cronies are "normal" by general population standards. It seems that in this measure, I am abnormal as well.

I am abnormal because I'm not. Most everyone else around me is certifiable. There are a handful of less-crazy people (I wouldn't say that anyone that spends time with me is COMPLETELY average due to their buddy choices), but today, there are an esteemed few who take the cake (WHERE?!?*). The one that comes immediately to mind is Nutcase Knight.

Nutcase Knight is Sir Knight's ex-spouse. As the name implies, she is almost beyond certifiable. I can't even remember all the shit she's stirred up since my Slugdom began, but the circumstances are always a bit illogical (ok, a whole-freakin-lot illogical) and mostly contrived. Let us begin the story with the Knight family roll call, as I'm sure it will come in handy later:

Sir Knight (SK). The boss we all know and presumably love.

Nutcase Knight (NK). The boss's ex-harridan who still makes his life hell 25 years after the divorce decree was written, and the offspring were removed from her custody.

Baby Boy Knight (BBK). The son. The elder child, lives in Asia. Incredibly wealthy. Deals with NK by telling SK to get her a one-way ticket to see him...and he'd send her on vacation. Permanently.

Baby Girl Knight (BGK). The daughter. The younger child, lives in that awful state to the south. Incredibly smart. Married a man who is beyond incredibly wealthy. Just had a sprog (Cutie Knight (CK)) a few months ago that is whoa-fully spoiled (all her onesies are Ralph Lauren cashmere).

Those are the players. ...and there's the bell.

So to start off this edition of the fandamntastic story, about ten years or so ago Nutcase Knight thought that she was being stalked (why would anyone bother?!?) by someone who was sending her postal mail (In the words of Dave: what were they going to do--mail her a bullet?) and hence decided to move from our esteemed city to the state to the south to be closer to BGK since BBK told her not to bother. After residing in the state from hell for a while, she began getting phone calls. As in 300 a day (by her count)...that the person on the other end of the line would call, breathe for a bit, and hang up. Freaked, she decided to move back to our esteemed city. So she "lives" in an apartment on the north side...never leaves since she can't drive, she's afraid to fly, and is generally dependent on anyone who will feel sorry for her. Her phone only makes outgoing calls, so if the world ends and she needs to know, you must email her. (She's never even seen the grandkid...because she can't afford a cab to Houston.)

She sits all day looking out the window and looking at her arms (she thinks there's something wrong with them). No shit. Seriously. All day. Looking at her arms. When she's feeling neglected, she calls Sir Knight at the office. This is where I come in.

NK: Is Sir Knight in? (She always uses both names. Always. That's how I know it's her.)
Me: I'm not sure. I think he stepped out for a bit. Can I take a message?
NK: Do you know when he'll be back?
Me: (thinking "Well for you, the Tuesday after never. Or maybe April 31. Whichever is later.") No. I'm not really sure...can I take a message?
NK: No. I'll just call his cell phone.
Me: He must not have gone far since he left his cell on his desk. (hint, hint)
NK: "Click."

SK's cell: Ring! Ring! .... Ring! Ring!

...a moment of silence...

Office phone: Ring! Ring!
Me: Slugdom, this is Clarinazi, can i help you?
NK: Is Sir Knight in?
Me: No. He's stepped out of his office for a moment...


So Tuesday, she calls and wants Sir Knight to let her move into his house until the newly-discovered mold in her house is killed. He agrees to let her stay during the day on Wednesday since she had called SK's sister (whose husband has thrown her out of their house after a "short" two-week stay--another post entirely) and SK will be away anyway. She leaves seven voice mails on SK's cell on Tuesday to remind him to turn on the television so that she won't be bored and lonely while he is at work and she doesn't know how to work the remote, so he also needs to turn the volume down so that she can nap.

This morning, she's still there. She calls around 11:00 to let SK know that they're not done with the mold removal (and now it's in the a/c and the carpet), so she would be staying a "little" longer. He told her that he had a date coming for dinner, so she needed to be gone by 6:00. She told him that she didn't know if she could manage that, so he went to get her a hotel room...I haven't seen him since.

God have mercy on his soul. He deserves it. No wonder why he won't marry the girlfriend.



*OK, you know the reference. I KNOW you do. You wouldn't let me down by not knowing Carlin would you?
Carlin, from the "phrases that piss me off" skit: "He takes the cake. WHERE? Down to the deli to see the other cakes?"

Ramdom Slug(gish) Thoughts of the Morning

Since I took a day off from the Workplace de Slug, I feel like today is a little disjointed. On one hand, yesterday felt like the weekend since I was kickin' it at a party for mom's business' 25th anniversary at the ole' homeplace, which means that today feels like Monday. (Freakin' grr for that.) On the other hand, yesterday felt strange since I wasn't attending work, so today feels like it should be Friday (yes, I KNOW it's Friday.) albeit a very strange Friday. This being said, my brain can't decide if it should shut down (Monday) or celebrate (Friday)...I think that I'll withhold judgment until after a semi-liquid lunch. That should improve my outlook. Besides, when it's just Sir Knight and I, we both drink at lunch. Another plus to this job!

I think that congrats need to be extended to this lady. She just finished her Master's Degree at age 94 after dropping out of school at age 12 to take care of her siblings. I'm struggling to finish mine at age 25 after being in school for my entire life. Hats (and mortarboards) off to you, Ms. Turner...that's a serious accomplishment.

...and in the "Holy Shit, Batman!" sector, we find this piece of news. It's the family's 17th child. No adoptions, no second marriages. All are the kids of Jim Bob and Michelle. And all the names start with a "J," making the family photo album sound like a dictonary roll call. Michelle has been pregnant for 128 months, or 10.5 years (25%) of her life. DAY-UM. Christ on a crutch, I think I'd shoot someone who tried to play hide the salami with me after the first few, and there would be no chance for 17. ... Ever.

---

I'm sure I'll have more thoughts through the day--at some point, I'll post about why I applied for a promotion...it's all a big effort to rid myself of QB (imagine that). After her last stunt, I've had my fill of schizoid management styles.

Just for Matt.

I'm happy somebody out there doesn't mind that I've not blogged in a while.

Uh huh, and did you explain to him [Matt] that you have been a) preparing for and going to various professional and business conferences, b) conducting research and writing your findings into somewhat coherent research papers, c) continuing your education in an effort to obtain a MASTER's degree, which means every idiot professor demands you write at least 3 pages per week on something or another, d) holding down two jobs, and ***gasp*** e) trying to maintain some semblance of a personal life. Make him read your papers if he wants to be appreciative your "muse"!!!

DAMN! Matt! LOL

Only 3 pages per week? I want to go to her school!!!


hmm...personal life. Maybe that is what's missing. ;-)

People are depraved.

de·praved /dɪˈpreɪvd/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[di-preyvd] -- adjective corrupt, wicked, or perverted.

I know this statement is nothing new, but ever so often I get blindsided by the utter stupidity of the general populace and the complete lack of respect for anyone (or anything) that pervade our "great" society. ... Some crazy nutcase has been HIRED by parents to "touch up" photos of their children (hello, DNA...your kids look like they do (whether good or bad) because of how you and your mate look). As in make them look like 80s Glamour Shots of 3-month-old Brides of Chucky. (To see some of the "improvements" by crazy nutcase lady and others click here.) Geesh. These kids are cute to start with. ... and they look like actual children. (Removing dark circles from under the eyes of a 3-month-old?!? Are you freakin' kidding me?!?)

Let us project ourselves into the future and take a look at the conversations that happen when the kids are flipping through ye ole photo album and happen to run across the original photos, then the touched up versions...

"Mom, why wasn't I ever good enough for you?"
(from the kitchen) "Why, lambkin, you are perfect just the way you are!"
"Obviously not." (Slips into depression, get committed for drug abuse, and
commits suicide. All in one day.)

To top it all off, read the series of e-mails between the nutcase and the webmaster of the site writing the story (case in point). I almost wet myself. Talk about pervasive idocy. DAMN!!!! Ladies' Man and SM II were looking at me gasping for air and trying to talk but not quite managing, wondering if I were the next victim of the Joker.

It's been a while.

It's been quite a while since I scribbled here, but I'm going to try to improve (both regularity and quality). Promise.

Over the past few months, I've been bored out of my skull in my job, but my writing muse apparently took an extended vacay (well deserved after last semester's research and writing projects), and hopefully will be up to the old mischief shortly. While she's making her way back, I'll fill you in on the not-so-fab details of my life between posts.

Slugtime
An in the government sector, I applied for a promotion a couple weeks ago. It's one of those convoluted things that if I would get it, the boss would be like a mini-QB, but if I can handle the real thing, no worries. The position is as a graphic arts person, so I'd be doing fun, creative stuff at work...read: "actually having work to do while attending the job" ... I think it would be a blast. I know I got recommended to the High Goddess, so we'll see where that goes. I love Sir Knight to pieces, but working here is killing me. I need something to do!

LIW is having a preemptive surgery. I must say that if it were me, I'd make sure there was something wrong with me before removing major organs. She was planning to be out for 4-6 weeks. Of course, she has known about this surgery since January (and it's elective), but has, in true LIW fashion, continued to use her leave time to the point that as of today (and not including the leave she accrued and used in July) her balance is 0.33 hours. ... and HOW does she plan to be out 4-6 weeks?!? She did find out when she went in that they could do a laparoscopic surgery rather than cutting her open. I'm sure she's disappointed. It should be closer to 4 rather than 6. Pity.

School
I made it through the spring semester only by seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I did a massive reading/research project this summer that I turned in last week. From it, my professor offered me a fellowship and wants to restructure our planned survey to complete last spring's research. Whee? I'll finish school in December (thank God!), and do not plan to return to formal schooling for a while. A long while.

Handbells
In other news, I was appointed to the board of Central Oklahoma Ringers and Directors, which is the governing board for handbells in Oklahoma. Also that week, I was given a scholarship to go to Distinctly Bronze again (the only scholarship in the nation!!!) in October, so I'm excited for all that is handbells.

Other Church Music
I just got back from a church musician's conference in St. Louis. Talk about a strange town! I got there early Sunday morning and walked around downtown all day without seeing ANYONE, not even a homeless person. It kinda creeped me out. Give me a big city with lots o' people and I'm a happy girl. The convocation was an amazing experience, and I have tons of ideas. Look out world.

Life in General
I went to see Chicago on July 3 at the Zoo...the most incredible concert I've EVER seen...in any genre. I was on the front row. Maybe if I get comments really wanting to know I'll tell you my "I acted like a 14-year-old" story...or maybe I'll just chalk it up to seeing my hero live and close up (again, I was on the front row--could have reached out and touched...and I did!) and you can figure it out.


As I think of other happenings, I'll fill you in. This is about all of my life you should be able to handle as of now. ;-)

Read this. Just do it.

Perspectives. It starts here with Matt G, a small-town cop, gets moved over here to Ambulance Driver, and finally gets finished here with Babs.

Good read. Get the Kleenex.

HALLELUJAH and PRAISE JESUS!!!!!

So remember all those posts about the ridiculousness of the processes here in the esteemed agency? Well, here's one more.

Let's go back in time.

February 3, 2006--Request comes from the High Goddess that we are to design a calendar for early childhood. We are to pick a statewide team of 8 others who will aid us in the making. I am to do the layout, and the other 8 plus Princess will do the content.

Hop to today.

WHEE!!!!! The calendar just got printed! I have my first hard copy of the acutal one I can hang on the wall!

379 days in the making...

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.

A happy place of rolling green fields, where I can let my Snark off the leash to run free among the herds of Bewilderbeests, bringing down the slow and the stupid by the throat.

Feel free to give her a visit. View From the Porch

Oh say can you see by the dawn's early flight

Well, I'm scribbling again, Matt, so hush.

I just returned yesterday afternoon from New York City. Say what you will about the city, my trip was fantastic. I had a great time, and cut a swath through the garment district that left a 4-square-block wake. ...then I had the honor of having to fly home. *grumble*

I left on Thursday. For reasons that were Not My Fault I had to fly through Chicago. In wintertime. I know what you're thinking...I got snowed in at O'Hare and had to sleep in the airport. You'd think wrong.

I flew to New York via Dallas, O'Hare, then LaGuardia. Amazingly enough, my luggage managed to hop, skip and jump across the country with no adverse effects (like spontaneous disappearance), even after an amazing series of gate changes. My friend, however, was clouded with bad travel karma. His luggage only had to go the last leg of the journey, but alas. Apparently, the shorter trips are worse. The luggage didn't make it. Ever. We left New York via Newark (the armpit of the universe) Monday morning, with only my bags in tow.

The Newark to O'Hare trip was surprisingly decent. The plane was only an hour late (rather than four, like the others), and we made it to Chicago in one piece. Then the party began.

The return trip was a direct flight home after Chicago, which was a GOOD THING, since OKC and Dallas were swarmed under by three inches of ice. The weather in Chicago was great for January, and life was excellent. Then they changed my gate. Twice. Now I'm sitting in the bowels of O'Hare waiting on a plane that is running late. Great. After two delays, we get on the plane. Whee! This is the only flight leaving for OKC, since they have cancelled all the other flights due to the ice sheet over the runway, and I'm on it! Hel-lo home.

We pile onto the plane (a very small jet--don't ask.), and the captain tells us that they have to de-ice the plane, etc. We sit for a while, then pretty soon back away from the gate. Wahoo! We may even leave Chi-town. Pretty soon all the power flickers, and the captain tells us that the plane de-icer messed up the engine and now it won't start. They are going to push us onto the tarmac for a jump start. Well, friends and neighbors, I don't think I like the sound of flying on an incredibly tiny jet for two hours on which half the engines had to be JUMP STARTED.

The jump didn't do the trick, so we were going to get dragged back to the gate. The car comes out, hooks up, starts to pull, and WHOMP! The line breaks. Great. Now we're stuck on the tarmac with planes backed up on either side of us, unable to get around. They send for a mechanic to come look at the wiring, and for some reason, he was unable to make it. The captain turned off the airplane, leaving us sitting with no light, no air, and no patience for about an hour.

Finally, everything conceivable has failed to roust the engine, so they decide to cancel the flight. No!!! This is the only one leaving, and now, it's not either. After about four hours on the plane, we get off and troop back into the bowels of O'Hare. Another hour in line for the agent to reschedule my flight and get me a room for the night...and it's 8:00. Had I rented a car when I get to O'Hare, I'd be almost home by now. *grumble*

My agent told me that I could fly into Denver, and could hopefully fly from there to OKC, but he wasn't sure about that leg yet... Let's think through the logic here: January-Winter. Denver-Mountains. Mountains-Winter-SNOW. Uh, no? I don't have much of a choice but to take the ticket, so at least I can leave Chicago--at 6:00 am Tuesday. Grr.

After hours on the phone at the hotel, I get my flight changed to Dallas. All is well. I get to Dallas, and the Oklahoma City plane is delayed, but I'm good. I'm on first class, and talking to a friendly Manhattanite who has a business in OKC. Finally the plane gets there, and we get on. Home at last.

I go to baggage claim, on the off chance that my bags actually made it past Chicago, and am faced with a sea of luggage. There are about 1000 suitcases spread throughout the lower floor, so I go through best as I can, and lo-and-behold, there's a bag. And it's really mine! So half my luggage is home.

I went back to the airport around midnight last night on the off chance that my other bag had been on the last flight in. Wonder of wonders, it was!!!!! Yay! Success!

I'm home (well, at work). My bags are home. I'm tired (and Chris, don't you say a word about sleep times!), and I wanna go home. Grumpy, sleepy, (and all the other dwarves), and the weather sucks. *grumble*

We're supposed to get 6 inches of snow this weekend to top it all off. If I get off work, I'm happy. If not, life sucks.

My, how time flies...

Greetings and salutations, my revered friends...I'm betting that you don't feel revered, but instead more neglected than anything. Well, not to fear, I is here.

I was looking through the blogs o' ages past, and realized that I have let many things slide. Of course, there are those things in my life that are constant. LIW will always be a lazy PITA. Minnie will always be arrogant, shy, and whiney. These things go without saying. However, there are those things that have changed.

1. The data droids. They're not droids. They're acutally the only saving grace in my job. I think Ladies' Man has his work cut out for him to keep a harem in excess of that by Head Droid and Mini Droid. Really. I've never seen so many mothers and grannies try to foist off their offspring and grand-offspring upon data people in my life. It's really disturbing. I love them though, and stories of our escapades abound in my daily life. Most are not reprintable, but hysterical nonetheless.

2. Azzie has been completely nice to me. For months. As in, he comes behind my desk to give me amusing links to websites. And e-mail forwards. I still think he's an alien, but that's a whole other post. In other Azzie news, they have hired another guy in their office, and I haven't had to answer the phone for his section in months. Life is GREAT.

3. SM2's daughter has come to work for blessed agency. Who would ever let their offspring *work* in this agency is beyond me, but she seems to be ok with it, so who am I to interfere? BUT...now she's always preoccupied with the daughter, who smokes, and as the mother of such, she takes smoke breaks. All the time. It's lonely. (But I did get her to cut early with me yesterday!!! There is still hope!)

4. Sir Knight's son and daugher got married (not to each other!), and he's been completely mellow since the weddings. Daughter is pregnant, and Sir Knight thinks the baby will refer to him by his given name. Of course. The baby will be calling him Gramps, so I'm sure that when the time comes, hell will break loose.

5. LIW still hums. Off key and incessent as usual. She still leaves for no apparent reason, but at least most days she shows up! I think we finally got the fear of God in her, as her leave was exhausted and she was routinely getting calls from HR...I doubt it will last, but it's nice while it's happening.

The fam's here for Christmahaunakwanzakah...better go tip a feather. Ciao.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

If you haven't seen this yet, it's great.

Turn up your speakers, and enjoy!

Hrm.

So apparently I have resigned my post as Centennial Chairperson. I just got a group email from one of my (rather rude) volunteers stating that the City Manager has offered the position to her. Hrm. I don't mind her running the show at ALL. I actually had given thought to resigning, but the least they could have done was to tell me about it! Good grief. The City Manager came to our last gig and told me how great he thought it was. I said thanks, and that I'd get with him after the first of the year. Ah well, I guess now that 2007 is upon them they decide that they really do need to get on the ball...as if I hadn't told him this many times already...

SNOW!

So there is a God. And he decided I needed a reprieve. I've been falling more and more behind, and this blessed snow is like God looking down on me saying, "Yes, I know you don't have time to do everything you have to do before Monday, so I am going to make your workplace close for two days. Use them wisely."

Thank you, God. I have.

Back from Sabbatical..sorta

So I'm back from my real life due to popular demand. Let's see...going back, going back...

Hmm...

I had to write an official paper about my place of work. About organizational behavior and human relations problems. It was a breeze. :-)

One of my classes for the semester has finished as of 10 pm yesterday, so I may have more time to dedicate to my devotees.

There hasn't been a lot new going on at work-I've been working on things for my concert, things for Sir Knight's church program, and things for school. ...business as usual.

I'm playing a concert on Decmeber 14. All Christmas. Free. Come see me!

I'll be back after some caffeine and these brief messages...

Circles

*Sigh*...Circles of communication aren't necessarily good things. Normally, I try to look out for everyone around me. It seems that I was just made that way. Now, I'm going to make an honest effort to look out for #1. I'm tired of the politics and the games. Just let me do my job, and leave me out of it.

Yay!

Life as I know it has been resumed. Bernard has returned from Thailand, therefore Trashy Thai has reopened. T11, here I come.

I'm baaaaaaaaack!

Good eve, all...I have returned from the nether-regions and am in fine form as usual. I have so many things that have happened to me, but since most of them are geek-related, no one really cares!

We made fabulous music...previously thought nigh-to-impossible on that particular medium (handbells), but alas, it was amazing. Nice people, BEAUTIFUL little 18th century town on the NC coast...life was grand. Then I answered my cell phone.

I leave for a freaking week and the DAY I get out of the office, Princess calls me to let me know that LIW is at it again. Imagine that.

Now it seems that she ran to Sir Knight with all the big, bad, Clarinazi goings-on of the past week or so (um, yeah.) at 8 am the day I left, and made up all sorts of snarky commentary to shower upon SK. He gets riled due to the barrage of half-truths and the pack of lies, and goes to Princess to see if she can fill in/determine the Rest Of The Story.

Well, after much head scratching, Princess calls me to let me know that I should be forewarned that SK is on the warpath against me. After a few hours of head scratching on my part, I call her back to ask why. She let me know that LIW had told SK that I was undermining her authority by giving Minnie and Princess my computer password, but she didn't have it, so I MUST have left on purpose, and besides I'm always changing my password so she can't get on my computer anyways.

Bloody hell. What happened to LOOK IN THE DESK DRAWER, YOU NINNY?

I am required to make the files on my computer accessible in case of emergency. I am NOT, however, required to make, say, e-mail (or any other program for that matter) available to those people. Therefore, I choose to copy pertinent files to a flash drive, and leave it in the desk drawer, with a hidden copy of my password, in case of death. LIW knows this. Crap, even the feds know this. (And of course, it is a matter to take straight to the boss.) I say the more important issue here goes something like this:

I'm a lazy, incompetent slug who has a desk full of work to do, but nothing ever gets done. I know I should do it, but damn, it's frustrating when nothing gets done! (Especially considering how much the other people in this office do! It makes me look lazy and incompetent!)


Ugh. I would love to just walk away from this crap. Who needs it?

That was a week and two days ago. I have yet to hear this story from anyone in person. Go figure.

Whee! Time away!

As I frantically get last-minute things done, I finally made it to the point on my to-do list that says "Tell the blogosphere that I am going to be gone from their world for a bit," and with that, I have fulfilled my list requirements.

For those who care, I'm going to a geek-fest for the rest of the week. For those who don't care, I'm still going, so there. I would call it a nerd-fest, but that is reserved for another instrument class entirely.

Have a good week without me, and visit me on Tuesday!

It's the little things.

I'm back. Many apologies...I didn't realize how long I'd been gone! In my head, it's only been a day or two at most. I guess that's what happens when you have a job with real work to do and real deadlines to meet...(I've been busy practicing for a real job.)

Follow-up to the giganto celebration from last Tuesday. --

On Monday afternoon before the ceremony, while all of us are frantically running about, Ginsu calls Princess in a snit. Since she normally does communications and publications, etc., she wants to know why she wasn't informed about the goings-on behind the ceremony.

Fast forward to Tuesday:

The winner of the ceremony recieves a plaque. A big one with lots of signatures and embossing and other such trappings. Well, after said ceremony, monster plaque goes missing. Princess calls everyone frantically searching for the plaque. (and I do mean everybody.) After much distress, Ginsu calls Princess with another barrage of questions, and casually mentions that she "found" a plaque at the ceremony. Found? Yes, found. Onstage, next to the High Goddess's podium. Queen Bee decided that Ginsu was out of line and went after her in high fashion. When I find out the end of the saga, so will you.


In other news, I "attended" a meeting yesterday (hence that particular bout of silence). In other words I was the title-less executive secretary. I took 13 pages of notes for minutes. The meeting was an hour and a half long, and lo and behold they made a decision. That's it. One. Singular. Guess what they decided? To send the motion in question to executive session. Whoa. I guess that's what muckety-mucks do when they all get together and talk about how important they are. Grr. You pay for this! Every one of you!

Sorry it's been so long!

It's been a while. Sorry, but I've been *gasp* busy. Work, school, church, you name it. Let's see if I can de-rust this past week in ye ole noggin and get y'all up to date.

The huge ceremony that I was helping plan and publish went off without a hitch. Except for QB's antics...imagine that... Let me give you some background:

Sir Knight was the emcee for the event. He has a monitor in front of him so he can tell when to announce the next person (he's backstage). The "backstage" area is actually a small platform about 5 feet wide that ends at 5'1" with a 4 foot deep dropoff into oblivion. The platform is fronted with a red backdrop curtain for the stage. Sir Knight is standing at a podium perpendicular to the curtain, making the walking path (a) very small and (b) very precarious. Especially for those who are wider than they are tall.

After Sir Knight decides not to move the podium (there are many logistical reasons why it could/should not be moved even a little bit), QB perches herself at the corner of the podium, effectively eliminating any hope of people not tumbling to their demise just as their name is called to go onstage. Refusing to budge from her perch, QB decides that the best course of action to get these people onstage is a three-step process. Remember, she is about three inches from the opening in the curtain (which is a true permanent opening)...

Step 1: Grab the winner's upper arm with her bony claw so to propel them past her perch.
Step 2: Holler at them to "Walk fast. Walk fast." Every one of them...because the people standing behind the graspee could not hear her this time. Of course they needed this direction. They were to walk three steps forward to get awarded.
Step 3: Re-enact a pinball machine by cocking back the arm and letting loose with a shove to end all to get the person to the stage. (Effecitvely eliminating any reason for Step 2.)

These three steps resulted in many pissed-off winners (they already aren't fond of the department...go figure. Neither am I and I work here!), and the video tape shows QB catapulting each person onto the stage. Goody, here comes the press.

So after said glorious event, the Head Goddess decides to have a debriefing of all key staff. Princess, QB, and various others are in attendance. She congratulates QB on such a great event (better organized than ever before--no, really?!?), and what does QB do? Three guesses. She says, "Why thank you! I worked very hard." Sorry, but I think I'm going to call bullshit on that one. She didn't even know what was happening until Monday at 4:15 p.m. Very hard my hindquarters.



And to top it all off, LIW is back to her unexplainable self.
Oh, and did I mention the new hire? QB hired an assistant. I can't even think of a nickname that is better than her real name. I think I'll call her Foo-Foo for now. You can figure it out.

*Sigh* ... but alas, the Prozac was not to last

Let me start this humble rant with a nod to those remembering loved ones today. Our hearts and prayers are with you.

Now, on to the pro-drug campaign. Whoever took the Prozac from my office, please return it for the sake of my sanity.

This morning started out so well. I should have known that it was too good to be true. I got here before LIW (always a good sign that she will call in sick), but she decided to show up--about 30 minutes late. Pretty good for her, acutally. At least she came and all. After she got here, things went south rather quickly.

Ladies Man and the other scullery in the office had a big shindig today for one of their underlings (not of the agency) and LIW threw fits that he was getting awarded since he wasn't a real teacher. He had gone through a special process and after 25 years, been awarded this award (that has nothing to do with how he became a teacher), and she tells me that he isn't qualified. She's just jealous that she wanted to be a teacher, got her education degree, got certified, and no one would hire her. Instead, she became head g-slug at Agency X.

After I told her that she was crazy for hating on the program (and on the poor guy who was ecstatic that he won--for good reason, I may add) she decided that I was pond scum, went into her office and pouted for a few hours.

When she decided to quit pouting, she caught me on Princess's phone. And went ape-shit because I was answering her phone. Good Lord in heaven, it was a 2 minute phone call. I'm pretty sure I can handle it. Cripes.

And Minnie heard LIW telling me all this and complaining that Minnie wasn't answering her own phone. She was busy, I wasn't, I answered the phone. Get yourself over it. Sheesh.

Argh. Gotta go make notecards for an exam. More details to come...

...oh and don't forget to check back for the Love Triangle de Fire Mountain...

Of mice and men

Some people have crickets, or bugs in general...we have mice. They scurry around for a while, hop into a trash can, and hide out, so people like Azzie can bring them by my desk just to hear me squeal. Good times.

In other news, LIW is at it again. I write a power point for a videoconference, she spends all afternoon doing the same. I talk to her as I am leaving to make sure she followed the guidelines and that I could pull hers into mine, and she says, "Guidelines?" *Unh.*

I will get back to writing all the ridiculous things on my blog as soon as I uncover the rest of my keyboard. My desk is piled high, but next week should see some daylight!

It's a small, small world

...so I went to lunch today with a former employer...and found out that Azzie's brother was the guy that worked with me when I was working for said employer. That was why Azzie looked so familiar to me. Freaky.

Slugs 'N Drugs

This week in the office has been a scene from a sci-fi movie. Azzie has been nice, even to the point of talking to me (as in whole conversations) and dropping into the office and chatting; LIW took me to lunch and chatted the whole time; Queen Bee has been fawning over me...and the list goes on.

Makes me concerned for my sanity. I swear the whole agency is on Prozac. No one is sullen or angry. It's like I woke up this week in an alien planet, but someone forgot to tell me so I could put on my glittery antennae headband. Maybe next week will be back to normal.

Maybe I should just sport the headband and hope...

Grumble.

To borrow a quote from 'Dog: "When my legions of flying monkeys complete my quest for World Domination, there's going to be a whole hell of a lot of changes around here."

I work with two grants. The more straightforward of the two has a passing decent checking system. The general system of payment is the grantee gives me the expense report, I double check the numbers and make sure that all expenses are properly documented, then forward it to the endless well o' funds.

I get a phone call today from the keeper of the well to let me know that one grantee hasn't been paid for seven months in 2005. After I pick up my jaw from my desk, I call said grantee and ask if they're missing money. Of course, they don't know since there have been staffing changes since 2005, but still. A missing $40K would put a damper on my year, believe you me. I get to nosing around to find the invoices, and lo and behold, LIW has four of them, but is missing the second quarter. Go figure. She roots through her office and comes up empty-handed. Big shocker, I know.

Seriously, folks. How can a non-profit organization that proclaims to be barely squeaking by (which if this is the norm, I can see it) not notice a pilfered $40K from a year and a half ago? Not exactly a trifling amount, that.


In other news...

LIW has a meeting tomorrow in a town about two hours from home. She doesn't want to have to wake up early, so she decided that she was going to go tonight and spend the night. Fine. Then she told Sir Knight and I that she was leaving at noon today to get ready to leave tonight. *blink blink*

Of course it's logical. It's the government, isn't it?

Nothing to do?!?

So I'm just getting around to publishing this little rant, but it's been floating around in my brain for a few days, I just haven't had time to get it onto the computer. With that in mind, I'll hike up my mini skirt, flip off my polka-dotted slides, and hop onto ye ole soapbox.

Let's look at Thursday a little closer: Meetings, photoshopping logos, busy, busy, busy. Desk piled so high another page would (and did) cause the whole pile to cascade onto my floor. Wahoo. Enter LIW. (Come on! Who else were you expecting?!)

She comes in to find my nose about a half inch from my computer monitor (where it had been for the past six hours) while I was working on logos for Princess's program, which is quickly approaching and also for which the agency is somewhat, um, unprepared.

She looks at my computer, me, and Mt. Scullery, walks past into her office and hides for the rest of the day.

Welcome to Friday.

Sir Knight comes into the office, he and I have our morning discussion, then go our separate ways. I continue to whittle down Mt. Scullery, and by around 2:30 it officially becomes merely a hill. Sir Knight have a meeting about what to do with the seven, yes seven, conferences we have coming up in the next six weeks. Much to do, little time. I have most details planned, but there are letters to write and stuff, hotel stuff to figure out, among other stuff--last minute type details that even the most unobservent person would catch on to. Or not.

No one has seen LIW all day long, so Sir Knight strolls into her office after our rendesvous to find her working crossword puzzles on her computer. He asks what she's doing and she responds that she's solving a puzzle. (There were few solutions written in, but that's a whole other soapbox issue.) Upon inquiries as to exactly why she is solving a puzzle, she says...

"I have nothing else to do."

Do mine eyes decieve me?!? She has a molehill of paperwork on her desk awaiting processing and I have Mt. Scullery on mine. Nothing else to do? Is she BLIND??? Grr.

Well, I'm afraid I answered honestly.

Now that I have a moment to breathe, I will write for a minute, then run again...

I had to take a Meyers Briggs personality test for a human relations class, and I'm afraid I was honest on it. Everyone in the office said it fit me to a tee...judge for yourself.

"Creating order out of chaos" is one extraverted thinker's way of describing her volition. Determined, logical, critical, they love a challenge, especially one that will allow tangible improvement in productivity, efficiency or profitability. They are direct, finding the quickest, most direct path between what is and what should be.

They excel at implementing ideas and are often on the lookout for good ideas worthy of their attention. They are quick to organize, orchestrate, find resources, coordinate, and follow through to the end of a project. They love a problem, especially one that will make full use of their competencies, their logic and sense of order, justice and fair play.

Many find competition to be stimulating and fun. "These are the rules of the game now let us play." Fairness is sharing and respecting the same set of rules, so may the best one win. And since they readily acknowledge that there will be a winner and a loser, they would simply much rather be the winner. So they hone their strategies on the fine knife of experience and sharpen their skills to meet the next challenge head on.

They love having greater challenges bestowed on them as a result of having successfully met the last, as this attests to their competence and skills. They appear dispassionate because of their impersonal and objective approach, but close observation will reveal deep passion and enthusiasm as well as sensitivity, especially to cherished ones. However they expect others to roll up their sleeves as they do and meet the task in spite of personal hardships or discomfort.

They have little tolerance for personal whims that threaten a smooth running operation. They are direct and honest with most things that displease them and expect others to do the same. Their humanity shows in their sense of fairness and justice as well as their love of humour.


Pretty much hits the nail on the head, wouldn't you say?

The Pantsalanche

Well, today needs to go in the history books. Nothing bad has happened at the office, and I got a publication approved ON THE FIRST TRY!!! (Seriously, folks, usually it takes a week for letters and several weeks for printed stuff.)

So to note this historic moment in time, I will regale you with a story that happened a few years ago...the Pantsalanche.

Four or five years ago, I drove up to the student union of my esteemed alma mater on the afternoon of a lazy, drizzly Sunday. Campus, for once, was quiet, and as I parked my car (in one of many open spaces amazingly enough) I noticed a man standing next to the door I was slated to enter.

As this is not the main entrance to the union, it wasn't a popular hangout, but this guy didn't come across as the type of person who'd hang out where it was popular anyway. He was about 6'2", 300 pounds, and garbed in a damp white t-shirt and red sweatpants with his ear hermetically sealed to the speaker of his cell phone.

As I half-run to the sidewalk to avoid getting my papers wet, I try not to really look at him, but he seems to be the car-wreck type of guy. As I'm busy not falling on my ass and not staring at him, his pants just fell off. In a split second this guy goes from totally decent to not wearing ANYTHING on his bottom half. And I got an eyeful of Mr. Happy.

The poor guy got flustered, turned around to pick up his pants from around his ankles, (mooning me in the process), and at that particular moment, his cell phone unseals itself, and jumps down his pants leg.

I stare at the poor guy trying my damnedest not to laugh as he's naked from the waist down, fishing in his drawers for his cell phone and trying to talk to the person on the other end of the phone. What do you say to someone when they're in your pants and you're not?

I bravely pass by and go up the stairs, enter the building and promptly fall on the floor and laugh until I cry. Of course I call everyone I know with the story, but my real question is this:

What kind of phone conversation was he having that he neglected to notice the alliance of pants and body parts had been severed?

Hell froze over.

Let's go back to yesterday...nothing, nothing, nothing...ah, yes. THE PHONE CALL.

Ze Chief o' Staff himself calls me to ask if I'd like the *ahem* honor of being QB's assistant. Told him I'd think about it. (ha!)

After 15 minutes of intense introspection, I realized that, as a matter of fact, my first instinct was right on the money. Run like hell in the other direction!

So this morning I called Herr CoS back to let him know that I was planning to respectfully decline the promotion due to several reasons...
1. The pay sucks. Though almost no amount of money would be worth me having to spend every waking moment in her presence, I could sell tickets to the ringside seats and make a tidy little profit on the catfights.

2. Sir Knight would be left in the cold since LIW is often nowhere to be found. After this long of writing, I think this should be completely obvious.

3. QB is bitchy.

4. Who needs 4 with the first three?!?

He saw my point of view and decided that considering the circumstances, we'd kill each other or she'd fire me asap. Glad he saw it my way. Life is hard, but it just may be getting better :-)

So, second floor, you're stuck with me. For another while at least.

Evening thoughts

I have come to realize exactly what makes a gummit slug. As in creation, not activity. People with half a brain, like me, decide to get a job and see that the slug-masters pay well enough to keep their minions in rent and food, but not well enough to give them, say, will to work. It's depressing knowing that in an agency of hundreds, I'm probably in the less-than-1% of people who are dissatisfied with my job (Really! Didn't you guess in the last few months? Slowpoke.) due to LACK of stress...or *intelligent* activity. I can literally feel my brain liquifying in my skull.

I'm too young for this. Three more semesters...that's my battle cry, yessirree. See me come, and watch me go. If I have to put in another day of looking busy and shuffling papers to keep QB happy, I'm going to go insane (Dave, shut it.). Give me something SUBSTANTIAL to do...maybe even something that would make a difference. I don't do busy work; I need a reason to mentally check in each morning.

Hmm. Maybe that explains the I-didn't-hear-the-alarm phenomenon of late...

Doldrums

Ugh. Had a bad weekend...left the man behind for good...

Now, I don't even have a thing to do at work. The data people are setting up our conference room for people to take it over for the next year (I'm sure they're quite nice, but we're overflowing!!!), and I'm the only one here. Not even anyone here to keep my mind from turning to mush. Sir Knight is reading grants for other programs in their offices, and LIW decided that it was too much effort to arise from bed this morning...and afternoon. The other scullery and Ladies' Man are both outta here too, and Princess and Minnie are separated from me by the data droids. Life stinks.

No, a lack of stupidity does NOT equal intelligence.

An unprecedented thing happened this week in my office.

Nothing.

That's right. No show of the unerring heredity of the cohorts, less than usual scathing commentary, and the like.

I think the week of August 7-11, 2006 should go into the record books as the eighth wonder of the world.

I wonder if Satan turns blue?

Ugh. It's Monday...

Well, it looks like this week is going to start off with a bang. QB just came in to inform me that I was to transfer Princess's phones down to her office since Princess was out of the office all week and QB is handling Minnie's training. God help everyone.

I told her that I had transferred Princess's phones to me since that is what I've done for the last six months, and with a shocked look on her face, QB sneered, "And do you answer the questions?" I said yes, and she put a hand over her chest to still her beating heart, "Well, do you know the answers?"

Of course, you monkey. After answering the same battery of questions 1000 times I think that I'm past the faking it stage. Fine. I'll transfer the phones to you, but don't come crying to me when you have to answer grant questions and the files are sitting on my desk. I'll hide them from you.

Let's add another one to the pantheon...

So they've hired a new person. She's the level above me in Princess's section. They had many highly-qualified people apply for the position, but they hired Minnie Mouse. She sounds like she's been sucking helium even though she seems to be quite nice.

A list of Minnie's qualifications for the position she was hired for:
(1) ______________

But she got hired because she is QB's sorority sister and they graduated from the same university. Of course.

LIW strikes again

How many jobs do you know of in which the employee can, um, just leave? ...and be welcome to return to work the next day?

After a couple days' sabbatical from LIW's incessant humming, I got adjusted to the calmness of the office, but nay. It was not to last.

LIW called me this morning to let me know that she had things she had to take care of. OK. And that she wouldn't be in until around 10:30 or 11. Houston, we have a problem. Problem #1: She has no leave time. Problem #2: We have (imagine this) a huge mailout that has to go in the mail today.

Around 11, LIW strolls in, says nothing to anyone in the office, goes in her office and proceeds to...well I can't really figure out what she did since nothing exited her office.

Sir Knight tries to roust her from her computer, and to his surprise, she was at her desk, scribbling away on a pad of paper. Sir Knight thought it looked conspicuously like a resignation letter, as she hid it quite effectively when he came into viewing distance.

Around 11:30, the rest of us decided to go out to eat, and we tried to be charitable by asking if she'd like to go along. We were going to her fave place, but even Sir Knight couldn't get her roots out of the carpet.

We get back around 1:00 to find her conspicuously absent. The lights in her office are off, and a report that we did last week was in Sir Knight's chair, ruthlessly edited (but alas, she was on vacation, so it has already been submitted), accompanied by a note.

"I managed to get a doctor's appointment at 1:30, so I won't be in for the rest of the day."

Ahem. Let's take this a step at a time.

Step 1: "I managed" --as if she had to put in supreme effort and is quite ecstatic that said appointment will occur.

Step 2: "1:30---rest of day" --an impromptu appointment that takes three hours? Amazing.

To top it all off, we get a call from HR well after she's gone for the day asking about last month's hours. Apparently, she's trying to get donated leave because her surgery from last month was connected to her cancer in 1995.

Let's step back a moment and look critically at the situation:

The great hernia operation of Twenty Aught Six is TIED TO and CAUSED BY the great breast cancer bout of 1995.

Because everyone knows about those great hernias that pop up from time to time in your right breast.

Good and bad days...

Yesterday rocked. Last night, not so much.

I got lots of good news on my assorted handbell ventures, then I got rear-ended after eating Trashy Thai. Grr.

and I swear that THIS DAY WILL NEVER END. Seriously, folks...who took the battery out of my clock?!? It seems like I've been at work for a year. And I even missed half a day due to said car wreck. Meh.