May 31, 2006:
I am on a search. A life-altering, soul testing search. For white post-it notes. Like the elusive Yeti, these notes appear briefly in the record of time, only to disappear after a mere fleeting glance.
*Sigh*
I have, reluctantly, irritably and with great remorse, become the office supply wench here at TBML. It was one of the only ways I could control the budget without ending up in a corner, babbling incoherently while chewing on people's purchasing cards. So, in lieu of a completely plastic diet and insanity, I took over. This means, of course, that I have to purchase everyone's office supplies.
I have been forced to utilize skills I did not even know I posessed, such as my psychic ability, which I use to determine just what kind of printer ink a person needs. All I need is an e-mail with the message: "I need printer ink" and I immediately know, without even getting up from my desk, that this person uses an HP DeskJet 720C and that they need HP cartridges 15 and 78. I should get my own TV show, I swear.
I also have to deal with people's err...eccentricities. Such as Mr. I-Only-Use-White-Post-It-Notes and Miss I-Need-Colored-Paper-But-I-Won't-Tell-You-What-Color-And-Get-Mad-When-You-Get-Me-The-Wrong-One. These are their tribal names. There's also 'Never-Plans-Ahead-And-Always-Runs-Out-Of-Stuff and I-Need-The-Most-Obscure-Kind-Of-Tape-On-Earth-And-Will-Accept-No-Substitutes. And of course, Dances with Wolves. I suppose my tribal name would be Babbles-Incoherently-About-The-Budget.
So, the question is, did I find white post-its? No. No I did not. Oh, I found Canary Yellow and Watermelon and Aqua and Fuschia and frickin' Blue Thunder, but I did not find white. Somehow, I feel like there's something wrong with society if you can't find white post-its. Maybe that's what did Rome in. That and all the vomitariums.
In other news, now that I have vented my spleen on the fascinatinig topic of office supply procurement, I am leaving tomorrow morning to go to Michigan for a college roommate's wedding.
I went yesterday and picked up my bridesmaid dress. It was actually ready last week, but tragically, in an eerie repeat of last summer, the bosom of the dress was hanging off of me like an empty windsock. So, I had to have it taken in. See, it's strapless and really, a strapless dress that's too big on top is an 'America's Funniest Home Video' waiting to happen. I can just hear the slide-whistle sound-effect as the dress falls off in the middle of the ceremony.
Anyway, the dress has a jacket-thingie to cover my voluminous arms, and when I tried it on last night at home, I didn't crack the bathroom mirror, so I can only assume that I don't look hideous. Well, at least I have sassy shoes.
So, I leave tomorrow in the A.M. and return on Sunday in the P.M. only to drive all the way back to the LC in the late P.M. for a very unfortunate lady doctor appointment in the butt-crack early Monday A.M. that will, most likely, end in tragedy for all involved. I HATE going to the lady doctor.
In other doctor news, my mom just got out of surgery. Like an hour ago. Film at 11.
Mom finally had her back surgery to fuse the bottom part of her spine. She has some sort of degenerative thing going on that causes her a lot of pain, so they fused part of her vertebrae. She's out and in recovery right now and she'll be on her back for at least 2 weeks. More than likely, she'll attempt to drag herself out of bed in order to clean something. I can just see her, propelling herself across the kitchen floor with her chin, a toothbrush clenched between her teeth so that she can scrub the floor. Grandma is coming down to help take care of her and she just might have to tie Mom down. Of course, now that I think about it, Grandma probably will sympathize with Mom.
This is the 80-year old woman who, only hours after her angioplasty, was asking my Grandpa to smuggle the ironing board and iron into her hospital room so she could do some clandestine shirt pressing. We might have to tie both Grandma AND Mom up.
Us kids will be keeping an eye on the mad elderly over at the house, including the very gimpy and also very mad Bobito, who, for at least 2 weeks, will have to get used to sharing his invalid status. Move over, Bob, there's a new gimp in town!
I swear, my life is a circus. A mad, gimpy Circus, filled with the suckiest clowns this side of the Mississippi. I mean, they don't even do any tricks. Momdingo can polish leaves, I guess. And Bobito can repeat the same story eight times without taking a breath, but really, would you pay to see that?
June 16, 2006:
Riddle me this, cheeky monkies:
If you have a Japanese import CD of a French singer on an American music label, what country do you catalog it under? Country of origin for the:
a) CD
b) Singer
c) Music label
Also, answer this question:
Why on earth did our media person buy a Japanese import of a French singer in the first place?
Are there really many people in the LC panting after Edith Piaf and her ilk?
And...
Isn't fosse a bad word in French? Meaning something along the lines of a place where the sun don't shine? And if that is so...isn't the street name Rue des fosses Saint Jacques just incredibly rude? What the heck did St. Jacques do? At the very nicest, it means Street of the Holes (or Trenches or Cesspools) of St. Jacques. And furthermore, why would anyone name a song after that?
(Conclusions: The French are wierd. Catalogers are even wierder and if anyone takes me to task for picking France as my country of origin -even though it's probably really Japan-I'll kick them right in the head)
Cataloging leaves me puzzled.
Okay, I have to add-- I was checking to see what Rue des Fosses Saint Jacques meant and the "recently featured" searches section on Wikipedia had these three: AIDS -- Crab Nebula -- Phil Collins all together which struck me as just incredibly hilarious.
Okay, rue des fosses means ditch street. Poor Jacques.
Double ok, this entry has led to an odyssey across the internet, in which I, much like Odysseus, try to find French curse words. You'd think Odysseus would've had something better to do.
*WARNING! FRENCH CURSING! *
Also, falzard is french slang for trousers.
June 20, 2006:
Asshole!
No, not you guys.
See, I'm in charge again and I got to deal with an irate student summer worker who accused one of our staff members of calling him an asshole.
Uh. Okay.
Kid claims that as the elevator doors closed, the staff person looked right at him and said, "asshole".
Witnesses claim that the guy in the elevator was talking to someone n the elevator. (He wasn't calling her an asshole, he was just telling her about one).
For this I get to fill out forms and interview witnesses. I wish I had like a little tube of powder and a brush. Then I'd dust people for fingerprints just for fun. And as I examine the floor with a magnifying glass for trace asshole evidence, I'd excalim, "A ha!" or perhaps, "Eureka!", pluck a hair from the ground with a pair of tweezers and declare the Case of the Mysterious Asshole closed.
I'm really bored. And I watch too much CSI. And, when I was a kid, I read a lot of Encyclopedia Brown. All these factors have come together to create this entry. Blame Canada.
June 21, 2006:
I was excited today for about 10 minutes. Let me tell you about it.
See, we ('we' being all non-union staff persons who work for the City) got an e-mail from the city manager informing us ('us' being, well...us) that we ('we' being...oh, I'll shut up now) had gotten a 3% raise effective next fiscal year, which begins in July.
I did some math ('cause I can now!) and figured out that it would be a little over $900 extra a year. I deflated a little, but still, I thought, that's almost $1,000, right?!
Then I remembered all the things they took out of my pay. Taxes, insurance, retirement, etc.
So, I subtracted that amount from the $900 + and figured it would really be about an extra $800 or so that I'd take home at the end of the day. I deflated a bit more but said to myself, still, that's $800 more that you'll see!
Then, I remembered to divide it by the number of pay checks I get a year. That's when I discovered that I'd be seeing an extra $37 a paycheck. It's not really all that exciting when you think about it. That would about cover a tank of gas. Or a night of debauchery with Moonspark (debauchery being junk food, movies, irresponsible spending at 24-hour Walgreens. We're kind of losers that way) or part of my co-pay for some of my meds.
If only I hadn't put the correct number of spaces behind the decimal! I could be thinking I'm getting an extra $9,000 a year. Which would be so much more exciting. Stupid me, knowing how to find percents!
Stupid math. Ruiner of illusions!
August 17, 2006:
Events contained in this rant:
1. 100 Year Flood
2. Stupid People
3. Why I Hate Stupid People
4. Conducting Meetings with Stupid People
5. Spineless managers
1. 100 Year Flood
It's raining, again. Rivers are overflowing, dams are breaking, Mexicans are floating away. It's very tragic. Pres. Bush declared the county a federal disaster area (a little late, methinks.)The LC has so far remained relatively dry, although, 'relatively' means we're still rather moist around here. And don't even ask about those poor people in Hatch, NM. I suspect we won't be getting any Hatch chilies any time soon.
My parents, my brother and sister-in-law and I were all smart enough to secure lodings on higher ground. I suspect that if flood waters reach my parent's house, or A&L's or my 2nd story apartment, a little water damage will be the least of our worries.
Moonspark's car got stalled out on the east side after she drove into a mondo puddle and got flooded. She had to wiggle out through the passenger side window. Moonspark: Action Star.
And the library here sprung more leaks than the Titanic. And since we have a big honkin' trench around the entire library, we had a moat. I rather like the idea of a moat. If only it had alligators in it and wouldn't leak into the media department. Sigh. I went around yesterday with a guy from facilities, pointing out leaks and thinking evil thoughts. I was in charge because my boss leaves at 4 in the afternoon and things inevitably go bad around 4:05. I made an executive decision to close the media department after water started leaking through the ceiling lights. People were mad. Apparently, securing the Hulk on DVD is more important that say, not dying by electrocution. Alas!
2. Stupid People
French angst machine and existentialist philosopher Jean Paul Sartre once famously said, "Hell is other people". And these days, I'm agreeing. I'm about five cats and a manifesto away from losing my mind.
3. Why I Hate Stupid People
I would love to make a common sense suggestion at a manager's meeting and be greeted with nods of comprehension rather than slack-jawed gaping. I am offended by the idea that these people are supposed to be my peers. When I say things like, "Perhaps you should consider cost and benefit to the Library before you purchase $10,000 worth of Product X.", I'd like to hear one of the managers say, "Why, you are right. In fact, you're always right. I don't know why I foolishly insist on undermining you at every turn and then go running off to the Head of Public Services to complain about how mean you are. Perhaps I have suffered some sort of horrible, permanent brain damage as a result of having my head firmly lodged in my butt for so long. Thank you, thank you." I'm still waiting to hear that.
Also, I'm getting darn tired of refereeing all the damn break room drama. Stuff gets stolen from the break room. Sometimes it's food, sometimes it's utensils and every once in a while, it's, inexplicably, sponges. A lot of the staff have decided to blame the anonymous public. They envision some bushy haired stranger skulking into the break room, stuffing his large homeless backpack with all of the staff's cookies and (despite the fact that it's summer and this person is homeless with no place to store it--maybe he has an eating disorder) a tub of chocolate ice cream. I believe it's actually staff.
And since I know exactly how much everyone in this building makes, it's not impossible for me to imagine someone "supplementing" their food budget with a little something from the fridge.
Frankly, I don't care. Someone drank my soda once, I sent out a snotty e-mail and moved on. Everyone else is fixated on it. So now I have to spend my time on the look out for this homeless guy, or, perhaps, some gangsters, in order to protect left-over chimichangas in red sauce. Good lord, people.
4. Conducting Meetings with Stupid People
Okay, I like agendas. I like using them. And I really like sticking to them. I'm sorry for interrupting your rant on a totally unrelated subject, but I'm tired and the sound of your voice is making my ears bleed. Or, as I really said it, "Okay, that's interesting, but not pertinent to the meeting. The next item on the agenda is your purchasing budgets..." I liked the first one better.
5. Spineless managers
*Sigh* My acting administrator couldn't make a decision if she was paid. Actually, she is paid, and she still ain't making a decision. She has a tendency to go with the strongest personality in the room, and then you can almost count on her to waffle later. It's frustrating on a personal level because one of the other managers deliberately undermined both me and her and she didn't do a thing about it. Now I look powerless and that pisses me off. She also echoes things that other people say in meetings, rewording it ever so very slightly and then presenting it as her own original, brilliant thought. And, she constantly looks over at me for reassurance during manager's meetings. For God's sake, lady! I'm 26 years old! You're MY boss. I should be looking at YOU for reassurance, not the other way around. It's annoying. If I was evil-er, I could be Rasputin to her Alexandra, but frankly, I lack the energy to be sinister. And, I don't look very good in a beard, although it would hide the chins. So, I'll keep my head down, try to do my job and make fun of everyone when I get home at the end of a day.
November 29, 2006:
This was the Thanksgiving the fam-damly spent with Uncle D. in sunny California. We flew down to Los Angeles last Wednesday, a surprisingly serene flight given that we traveled with my father, who, like Barbie comes with many accessories, and also, a lot of cursing.
It's sort of interesting to go through airport security with someone in a wheelchair. Since dad can't be wheeled through the metal detector, he has to get molested by a gum-snapping security guard, who searches him thoroughly for explosives no doubt hidden somewhere in his seat cushion. Every time.
Anyway, my uncle picked us up at LAX and we spent about an hour to drive twenty feet. We had many, many near-death experiences. But the hotel was nice.
Thanksgiving day was nice, but my uncle was on a super high-efficiency kick (no doubt brought on by his super-efficient girlfriend) and pretty much had everything cooked and ready. And, in a sin greater than Adam and Eve's fall, he BOUGHT the pies. BOUGHT. The cousins and I have vowed to bring back the disorganized, stressful and dangerous Thanksgiving next year. We WILL have a turkey catch fire, dammit!
Mom was all into the idea of organizing and executing Thanksgiving with German efficiency, but I'm not worried. She's great on ideas, not so much on follow-through. She'll turn to me in a panic next day-before-Thanksgiving and realize she hasn't bought the turkey yet. Mark my words.
Anyway, we spent the next few days doing touristy things. We went down to Hollywood and I was almost killed by a giant Elmo outside Grauman's Chinese Theatre. I took the Dearly Departed famous and infamous deaths/celebrity happenings of LA, where we drove around and looked at where famous people died or other bad things happened. I also got to see quite a few celebrity houses. Like Rob Zombie's, Billy Bob Thornton's and Antonio Banderas's. I also got to see Johnny Depp's hedge, Charro's neatly trimmed lawn and Tom Cruise's fence. Excitement.
I didn't actually see any celebrities, though. Well, I did see Carrie Fisher, but I paid for that privilege. She has a one-woman show running in LA and we all went on Friday night. If you didn't know already, Carrie Fisher is crazy and very funny.
On Saturday, we drove down to Malibu and hung out at the Getty Villa museum. It was fab. Very nerdy and also had a very good cafe.
Anyway, I'm tired of typing and I have a headache, no doubt due to my high blood pressure. So, I bid you all adieu
December 15, 2006:
I went to the doctor on Wednesday and got the great news, "Congratulations, you're a Type 2 diabetic! And! As an extra bonus, you have high blood pressure!" And when I went back to work, I had scads of candy in my box. Not that anyone knew, but still. It was annoying. I had to put it all in the break room for the staff to hopefully eat, soothe the injured egos of the candy-givers with my personal business and then listen to everyone else's. I don't quite understand it, but when you tell someone about your health, even in passing, they immediately reciprocate and begin telling you everything that's wrong with them and then you have to make polite, sympathetic noises and nod your head, even if you want to run out of the room screaming. It's all my fault since I've built up a repuation here as a nice person and a good listener instead of a misanthropic jerk.
Driving to/from work is also an exercise in evil. It's like running a gauntlet. On my short five-six minute drive, there is a Burger Time, a Sonic, a Domino's Pizza, a Dairy Queen, a Subway, a Taco Bell, a McDonald's, a KFC, a Whataburger and a Burger King. All of them are whispering to me, "Come in, have a burger...and some fries...maybe a pie. You know you want to. You know you're hungry and tired and don't want to cook up that chicken breast in your freezer..." Arrgh.
Anyway, if I watch my diet and exercise, I'll be just fine, so nobody has to begin to wonder what they'll wear at my funeral. You might want to practice what to say when you get interviewed for a television special about why I went insane, though. "She was such a nice girl, kept to herself..."
When the doctor told me my blood pressure was high, I laughed. Of course it's high. I was just told yesterday by the Public Services director that we can expect our complete travel budget to be wiped out and then some because the city is making us pay to fly, house and feed the five candiates who are going to interview for the position of director. And, one of my coworkers keeps making purchasing violations and no one is willing to do anything. And I didn't get my raise. And another one of my coworkers might be borderline retarded, the way he manages his department. And the City's new accounting system doesn't input credit card purchases, which make up a substantial amount of our purchasing, so I have to manually tally up all the Library's credit cards every month and do a spread sheet to subtract them from the Library's accounts so we know how much money we actually have, AND the new accounting system's numbers in the state library grant don't match with the old system's or our records so we don't know how much money we actually have left to spend. Actually, I know, and I've sent memos and made recommendations, but no one seems to want to listen to me, so everyone just shakes their head and says, "Gee, I wish I knew how much we had", while I jump around in the background and tear my hair out while waving my spreadsheet. And our book budget is toast.
Frankly, it's a miracle I'm not dead or insane.
And meanwhile, the peolpe in my office are playing Christmas carols incessantly, draping everything with tinsel and making merry. It's enough to put a girl completely off Christmas. If I hear 'Silver Bells' crooned by child beater and drunk Bing Crosby one more time...well, I won't be responsible for the resulting carnage.
Ahem. Well, that was the worst Christmas e-mail I've ever written. I should probably work on my Christmas letter writing skills. Let's try this again...
Dear Everybody,
Merry Christmas! I hope your 2006 was great! Life is very interesting!! My job is very challenging and I love it!!!! I have many interesting co-workers who just love holidays and celebrate them often!! I'm doing well! The family is fine! Life is great!
Merry Christmas and Happy 2007!!!
Love,
Me!
Much better.
