Do you hear that world? I am not amused!
Thing hugely horrible went wrong in the past 24 hours, but enough small things have driven me to consume a respectable amount of pasta, cheesy garlic bread, and wine. Sure, the wine was in a Pabst's Blue Ribbon mug and the rest was, well, dinner, but I seriously considered buying two different cheese cakes and consuming them both.
Let's start from the beginning. I use Feline Pine, which is a flushable cat litter. Last night while cleaning up after my cats, my toilet overflowed. I was annoyed when I had to use a new clean towel to clean up the mess, AND now that freaking towel has been hanging up the entire day and it's no less damp.
Fast forward a few hours and I wake up at 3 a.m. holding my cookie.* I discover a big ass bug bite the size of a Milk Dud. Ninety minutes later, when I actually had to get up for work, I notice that the bite is still there (albeit smaller) and I realize that it's most likely a spider bite.
Mother fucker!
The most action that my cookie's seen in over 13 months, and it's a mother fucking spider. Not cool!
After getting ready and making the magic that is my glorious face happen, I realize that I'm a couple of minutes late heading out the door. So, I walk a littler faster than usual and the first thing I notice is that the seam of my pants is fighting with the spider bite.
At work, things are busier than usual. About 12 people show up who aren't expected, and it's too early for their contacts to be in the office. In short, it's a cluster.
Mid-morning rolls around and two people show up with a project for me. Listen, I love actually working while at work. The fact that there's so much down time in my current position is one of the many reasons I'm so excited to possibly move on.
The problem trying to work through that this particular project is an employee benefits informational packet I spent six weeks working on last spring. I pool resources. I developed and elaborated upon topics, and eventually developed one document. I wrapped up everything by June and passed it on so the higher ups could decide if they wanted to make any changes or even use it.
Last month these two particular people called me into their office and reclaimed all of the original documents I had used as resources, so that they could be given to new hires. This morning they come down and tell me that they need me to change 70 pages of fonts, font sizes, line spacing, and to undo what the company's style guide had directed me to capitalize.
It wouldn't have been a problem if I could have just hit select all and made the same changes to the entire document. However, because there are headings, subheadings, Excel documents that had been imported, graphs and images that also needed to be changed, and it just kept going. Oh, and did I mention that my deadline was less that 24 hours, because they had run out of every single one of the new hire benefit packets that the company had been using for the last seven years?
The good news is that I'm almost done with that little project. My retinas feel as though they have been burnt by staring through the computer screen all day, my bug bite is a little smaller, and at least I'm not spending the day cutting ribbon, which is exactly what I did one day last week.
Okay, and now for the really good news. It's not a sure thing, but over the last two weeks I have been through five interviews for a new position with my company. All five gave me the thumbs up, and now the decision rests with the HR Department. I'm cautiously optimistic, because at this point it's a toss up. My wishful thinking is enough to keep me from drinking multiple bottles of wine or exchanging my laundry money for baked goods, or worse of all - mouthing off to the people who gave me this little copy editing, because these same people have given my manager additional reasons to question whether she should recommend me for this other position. Yes, I'm talking about any and all of the issues I've already described in a previous post.
All I can really say is - I am not amused. Okay, maybe a little.
* Yes, I'm talking about my vagina. I'm trying a pet name for it. Mostly because I like saying, "All the boys want to get their hands on my cookie."
Monday, November 28, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Reason 129 Why I Don't Date
In a word - me. I am reason 129 why I don't date.
I set up for an OkCupid account over a year ago. Within two days, I had received three messages. All of them offering no strings attached sex. Needless to say, but, I deactivated my account within the first 48 hours.
Fast forward to last month. I had given up on all of my regular way of meeting new people (see: Craig's List), and since I was no longer in school or at a minimum wage job (which leads to drinking buddies, which in turn may lead to make out buddies) I was up a creek. And, by "creek," I mean a Class VI river with a waterfall just around the bend, which would lead to an endless supply of lonely nights and an equal number of cats.
Based on a recommendation of a few coworkers, ex-roommates, and people generally concerned about me eating my feelings or trying to fill the void with four legged vomit makers - I started a new OkCupid account.
For the first month, I neglected to complete any of the personal essays. All I had posted were photos and all of the quizzes I had taken. Of course, that didn't stop the pervs or creepsters from messaging me.
About a week ago, I decided to suck it up and fill out the essays. I still hadn't responded to a message until I received the following message.
Him: Sigh. Did you join OkCupid just so you could find people to have sex with? An image of [you] Yes This was a little depressing, since I thought your profile was interesting otherwise. Cheers.
[It was Sunday. I was bored. And, I was in the mood for a little confrontation. So, I responded.]
Me: No, I can't say that was my goal for joining although I've declined several offers to do exactly that. I may be wrong, but the impression I get from both your message and your profile is that you're not looking to do anything more than send anonymous messages. On that note, I would encourage you to make a fake profile and see if you can get the same amount of attention as Amanda from Seattle (whomever that may be), because maybe then you could laugh a little about the ridiculousness that is OkCupid.
Him: Well, my intention was to meet someone, and maybe have something happen. After talking to many, many people on here over the years, I realize that approximately everything women say they're looking for (sense of humour, kindness, a decent income), they're not really looking for. Or they don't remotely get my sense of humour, which, in fairness, puts them in the majority with about 80% of the planet. But, what I've learnt most of all on here is, as a 32 year old with rather limited sexual experience, I should really just totally give up. Because women don't want someone who doesn't really know what they're doing in that realm, and that's really what it all comes down to. Personality? F**k that. Cheers!
Me: I'm enough shades of bitter and jaded to understand from where you're coming. Trust me, I get the frustration of dating. It sucks, but there's a reason why we keep at it. Everyone thinks that they want one thing, but in the end they end up with exactly what they need (and often times deserve). All I can do is speak for myself, and when I find myself in a sea of smelly boys with ironic mustaches wearing skinny jeans who prefer Pabst Blue Ribbon to Smithwick's or a nice microbrew - it makes me want to shutter my lady parts and adopt cats. And, that's before I even say hello. Also, a word to the wise, when you come off like a tool (or if you prefer - wanker) it will probably make the small portion of the female population run for the hills who would otherwise get your humor, are also looking for more than casual sex, and fit the other things you want and/or need for a healthy relationship.
Him: Ha, that's the best part, is that I don't even know how I come off as a tool. Well, in the case of your message, sure, I can see that. I'm usually not that ridiculous with them. Generally, I try and find something in the profile to start a conversation about. That never works. And I don't get the PBR thing. It's a terrible beer, crikey.
[He revamped his personal essays.]
Him: There you go. Far less anonymous, probably even more tool like. Cheers.
Me: Congrats, sir. It's like you're a real person! I wouldn't say that it's tool like. You’re letting your nerd flag fly, and that’s a good thing. Also, I like to refer to soccer as “the world’s football.”
Him: I changed it because I actually found an actual person I actually found actually interesting. Needless to say, she didn't respond to my message. lol. Anyways, Real Football = Best Sport in the World. Re-watching England upset Spain right now in fact. Yay!
Me: Awe snap! You sure know how to make a lady feel special. I can't say that I'm into sports, and this comes after having a work study job in undergrad with the Sports Video Department for three years and (I'm proud to say) this week I'm ranked number one (out of 55) in my company's college football pool. So, it's not that I don't understand sports; it's just that I'd rather be playing with shiny things or stickers. :)
Him: Hahaha, that came across horribly huh? I'm CLASSY occasionally like that, crikey. What kind of shiny things? That sounds, um, potentially fatal...haha
Me: Oh, I'm just playing. And, I'll let you in on a little secret - girls and raccoons have more in common than you may believe.
Him: They're both thieving bastards who like to play in the garbage and make great hats?
Me: I'll have you know that I grew out of playing in filth. Last weekend. Side note, I feel like we should talk about your lady hat collection. Also, I'm going to start referring to you as "Buffalo Bill."
I set up for an OkCupid account over a year ago. Within two days, I had received three messages. All of them offering no strings attached sex. Needless to say, but, I deactivated my account within the first 48 hours.
Fast forward to last month. I had given up on all of my regular way of meeting new people (see: Craig's List), and since I was no longer in school or at a minimum wage job (which leads to drinking buddies, which in turn may lead to make out buddies) I was up a creek. And, by "creek," I mean a Class VI river with a waterfall just around the bend, which would lead to an endless supply of lonely nights and an equal number of cats.
Based on a recommendation of a few coworkers, ex-roommates, and people generally concerned about me eating my feelings or trying to fill the void with four legged vomit makers - I started a new OkCupid account.
For the first month, I neglected to complete any of the personal essays. All I had posted were photos and all of the quizzes I had taken. Of course, that didn't stop the pervs or creepsters from messaging me.
About a week ago, I decided to suck it up and fill out the essays. I still hadn't responded to a message until I received the following message.
Him: Sigh. Did you join OkCupid just so you could find people to have sex with? An image of [you] Yes This was a little depressing, since I thought your profile was interesting otherwise. Cheers.
[It was Sunday. I was bored. And, I was in the mood for a little confrontation. So, I responded.]
Me: No, I can't say that was my goal for joining although I've declined several offers to do exactly that. I may be wrong, but the impression I get from both your message and your profile is that you're not looking to do anything more than send anonymous messages. On that note, I would encourage you to make a fake profile and see if you can get the same amount of attention as Amanda from Seattle (whomever that may be), because maybe then you could laugh a little about the ridiculousness that is OkCupid.
Him: Well, my intention was to meet someone, and maybe have something happen. After talking to many, many people on here over the years, I realize that approximately everything women say they're looking for (sense of humour, kindness, a decent income), they're not really looking for. Or they don't remotely get my sense of humour, which, in fairness, puts them in the majority with about 80% of the planet. But, what I've learnt most of all on here is, as a 32 year old with rather limited sexual experience, I should really just totally give up. Because women don't want someone who doesn't really know what they're doing in that realm, and that's really what it all comes down to. Personality? F**k that. Cheers!
Me: I'm enough shades of bitter and jaded to understand from where you're coming. Trust me, I get the frustration of dating. It sucks, but there's a reason why we keep at it. Everyone thinks that they want one thing, but in the end they end up with exactly what they need (and often times deserve). All I can do is speak for myself, and when I find myself in a sea of smelly boys with ironic mustaches wearing skinny jeans who prefer Pabst Blue Ribbon to Smithwick's or a nice microbrew - it makes me want to shutter my lady parts and adopt cats. And, that's before I even say hello. Also, a word to the wise, when you come off like a tool (or if you prefer - wanker) it will probably make the small portion of the female population run for the hills who would otherwise get your humor, are also looking for more than casual sex, and fit the other things you want and/or need for a healthy relationship.
Him: Ha, that's the best part, is that I don't even know how I come off as a tool. Well, in the case of your message, sure, I can see that. I'm usually not that ridiculous with them. Generally, I try and find something in the profile to start a conversation about. That never works. And I don't get the PBR thing. It's a terrible beer, crikey.
[He revamped his personal essays.]
Him: There you go. Far less anonymous, probably even more tool like. Cheers.
Me: Congrats, sir. It's like you're a real person! I wouldn't say that it's tool like. You’re letting your nerd flag fly, and that’s a good thing. Also, I like to refer to soccer as “the world’s football.”
Him: I changed it because I actually found an actual person I actually found actually interesting. Needless to say, she didn't respond to my message. lol. Anyways, Real Football = Best Sport in the World. Re-watching England upset Spain right now in fact. Yay!
Me: Awe snap! You sure know how to make a lady feel special. I can't say that I'm into sports, and this comes after having a work study job in undergrad with the Sports Video Department for three years and (I'm proud to say) this week I'm ranked number one (out of 55) in my company's college football pool. So, it's not that I don't understand sports; it's just that I'd rather be playing with shiny things or stickers. :)
Him: Hahaha, that came across horribly huh? I'm CLASSY occasionally like that, crikey. What kind of shiny things? That sounds, um, potentially fatal...haha
Me: Oh, I'm just playing. And, I'll let you in on a little secret - girls and raccoons have more in common than you may believe.
Him: They're both thieving bastards who like to play in the garbage and make great hats?
Me: I'll have you know that I grew out of playing in filth. Last weekend. Side note, I feel like we should talk about your lady hat collection. Also, I'm going to start referring to you as "Buffalo Bill."
Him: "Buffalo Bill"? Interesting. I am, sadly, not actually a cowboy though. And I'm pretty sure I have no lady hat collection. Only good, solid, manly hats, like Baseball caps and Fuzzy hats that definitely don't have that little ball on top.
[I thought that I was being funny. However, the prospect of explaining to Him that not only 1) was Buffalo Bill a character from The Silence of the Lambs, but he was THE character who said, “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again,” and 2) by “lady hat” I didn’t mean hats made for ladies, but instead hats made FROM ladies – I realize that this isn’t going to end well. Given the above and the fact that I was getting bored with the situation already, I decided not to respond at all.
Yeah, so I’ve decided to start a pool. Please feel free to guess when I will get my next cat. If you win, I’ll let you name it.]
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