|
More of me December 3 November 1 October 23 October 7 September 17 August 22 July 25 June 21 May 25 |
Sitting in pretty outfits in cute little offices. In my house, I might clip my fingernails on my couch when I fuss with myself by giving myself pedicures, manicures and the like. I put my clippings in the trash or on a tissue to go into the trash. In my house, I might clip my fingernails over the trashbin in the kitchen. Sometimes I clip my fingernails into the bathroom sink and wash them all down. Notice how I never mentioned clipping my nails in my office? Apparently my officemate is so busy raising up 2 kids that the only time he has to clip his nails is in the office. Over his desk, with no apparent intention on throwing away these clippings. To make matters even worse, more skin crawling, he has a cup of tea and I've bitched at least a million times about how the man frigging slurps. I honestly can't take this assault of noises and general lack of proper behavior and questionable hygenic practices. I must bundle up for the 23 degree weather and smoke cigarettes. (I mean, he was clipping his nails for a minute before I started this entry, I made sure my grammatical mistakes were above the fifth grade level, answered this email while writing it and he's still at it: just wiping the clipping about the office) Monday, December 31, 2001 The fact that my office is about 85 degrees is not helping my general state of distraction. However, the two other floors to my company are enjoying seasonably 60 degrees. Literally, it's too hot to work. It's hard to do anything when your brain is slowly frying, you feel generally uncomfortable and you've all but stripped down to your underwear. Friday, December 28, 2001 "My" people are not in today. Well, one is, but she doesn't like doing work for me. She pretends she's ultra busy, leaving me with all this work. I wanted to boss people around today. Instead I get deafening silences with each email I write on how is this going, are we meeting our deadlines, how much more work can I make you do. I haven't done any substancial work as a result, just looking through what needs to be done and thinking of who I can make do it. I'm acting snotty because I was in charge of making sure 1/2 the report went out this week. I gave the final okay, read through and stamp of approval. I'm acting snotty because I generally doubt the intelligence of others. I'm acting snotty because being nice means no one will help you out. When you tell them to do something rather than ask, they have no excuses. I'm becoming a corporate pimp. My antsy because I know, just know, my 25th birthday is going to suck. In past three years I've gone to Atlantic City, Liberty Science Center and Philly. I guess this birthday will be like the 21st where I went to the liquor store, didn't get carded, bought a bottle of cider jack, watched tv and went to bed early. I am going to a play that day, but with my sister's future in-laws. I want to get really drunk, I want to be out, I want to go on a two-day drinking binge. . Who will join me? This is after I listening to one girl speak to the office manager about where would be a good venue to throw herself a big 25th. I'm talking caterers and menu prices, I'm talking small wedding-style birthday party. Apparently, someone is living off more than this meager salary. Somebody is also a) not married b) doesn't have kids c) likes to be the center of attention. I mean, you are going to be 25, not retiring, having a baby or anything like that. It's a frigging birthday. But at least it won't suck as much as mine is going to. Friday, December 28, 2001 Merry Christmas! So many gifts including a latern with yellow embroidered panes from Marie and new pots n pans, a cd holder which stands upright versus the one I'm throwing away which leans and shakes and the crochet hook. I'm looking for some sort of pattern now so I can get a feel for the new hook. I was so busy at work on friday that I was there until 7:30 and had to drop something off at my boss's home as he lives off the F-line rather than friggin FedExing something to Brooklyn. I was cracked out from Friday for about 2 days. Of course, the little party with the old college roommate the night before didn't help the day go by any easier. I wasn't hung over because I believe I was still drunk for the entire day. I've decided to make goals for next year. They are in no way resolutions but rather a list of things that I would like to work on, requirements that need to be completed for future steps in my life. For example, the goal for January will be drawing up an actual study schedule for the LSATs so I can do the great job I know I can. The rest aren't so rigoriously boring, but the list isn't completed yet. Tuesday, December 25, 2001 Because I've taken to exclusively reading Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet to have something to read, to have something to fill my thoughts while I'm avoiding getting caught in a novel that will become more temping that the LSAT studying. I now carry my little black hard cover with me and read peices and parts on the train and letter or two or a paragraph 5 times over before sleep, I have this for Bess. "Loves does not at first have anything to do with arousal, surrender, and uniting with another being - for what union can be built upon uncertainty, immaturity, and lack of coherence? Love is a high inducement in the inner self, to manifest maturity in the outer world, to become that manifestation for the sake of another . . . Thursday, December 20, 2001 I like posting what people write in emails, at work. Because I think they are amusing people. Such as my boss: "While all of our studies are unique, [this one] is a square snowflake while most of the others are variation of circles." People are very playful, light, joyful here. There is a seriousness which isn't taken with too much gravity. Of course, my boss also sends emails that make me want to cry such as: do you mind working overtime on Friday? (i.e. if you don't get it done Friday, come in on Christmas Eve which you told me you were taking off 6 weeks ago.) Because right now I have to rely on other people to do certain steps, and they take their pretty time, leaving me with a big huge rush to complete. But I do it begrudingly with a sly smile. And get a pretty good year-end evauluation. Thursday, December 20, 2001 I feel as if I get too political, as if I go off on random issues. I also feel like there are a lot of important issues which are ignored to present a very special one-hour Friends. What I have to say today is nothing shocking: Congress is full of sneaky and slimy types. They can't manage one ounce of good without throwing in a mililiter of their vile existence. An educaiton bill was passed which is very wonderful and great since the feds rarely cough up money to settle some of the nation-wide inequalities of education. They did a very good thing here and I was surprised that such a bill was passed. However, they have to go and corrupt it by throwing in unrelated clauses that turn the entire deal sour. The 13 highlights of the bill read very well until you get to number 12: "Takes away federal funds from any district that discriminates against the Boy Scouts or similar groups that bar homosexuals." Excuse, but what? That's right: take away money from municipalities that have decided discrimination based on sexual preference will not be tolerated. They are basically forcing areas to give into homophobia, to not allow the majority of an area decide that such behavior is unacceptable. Hmm. . . let's see . . . schools are barring the Boy Scouts from using their facilities to host meetings in areas such as large cities, progressive suburbs and other areas with low levels of homophobia. They are not preventing children from being in the Boy Scouts, they are just limiting their facilites to groups that they do not think are in accordance with their thinking. But the slimy feds come along and say that we give you money to let them in, to compromise your morals. It's one think to force compliance with integration, to force compliance with accepting other ethnicities and peoples, but no one should have to accept groups that are exclusive. Where 15 year old boys can loose all their hard work towards Eagle Scout because they fall in love with another boy. Slimy bastards. p.s. you'll also see they threw in this: 'Allows churches or other religious groups to provide tutoring and after-school programs." Not a bad idea, but can the Nation of Islam participate? doubtfully. Wednesday, December 19, 2001 Oh no! My very favorite church that I've ever seen, and therefore, in my world, had a huge fire this morning! St. John the Divine on 112 and Amsterdam was a big part of my life while a college student. I only entered the building 4 times, but I passed it more than one can count and it lifted my spirit about 25% of those times (25%: I was already happy, 25%: I was drunk, 25%:I'd need to see Jesus himself to be happy). When walking along Broadway, you can forget there is this huge church down the street and then suddenly look down 112 and it's there. It was especially beautiful in all types of inclimate weather, a stretch of street and then the beautiful stony arches and curves of the church, it's huge spires or whatever they are called. I went there for the first time in the ninth grade on the AP Art History field trip when I was still in the teacher's good favor. I went on this trip three years, except my senior year when I fell out of the teacher's good favor. That was when I first was struck by how lovely the church was. I was also very jealous that Columbia College undergraduates hold their separate ceremony there while Barnard girls get to sit under the overhang of our very 70s looking library. I was willing to get myself bapitized to get married there. I hope it's okay. Tuesday, December 18, 2001 Nobody I've ever met can make me laugh as hard as my family can. Nobody can make me laugh so hard that I make no sound and deprive myself of oxygen becacuse I am not breathing properly, if at all. You don't ge to laugh like that every day, even every year. But Friday night my sister made me all but pee my pants; I'd thankfully just been to the bathroom. This is what cracked me up, because it's so dead-on true and was delivered not with criticism but amused observance: The Tara-thing you do all the time is ask the same question, 8 different ways, just to see if you get consistent replies. Does this scarf look nice, yes. Does you think it's pretty, yes. Do you think (recipient) will like it, yes. Am I doing a good job, yes. You know you do that all the time.The entire Saturday I spent in New Jersey finishing up the Christmas shopping was full of family jokes and laughing. We ran around the house after one another, tickled each other (when do you get too old to tickle your sister? your father?) and generally act like we lived in a group setting for the mentally insane. I had a dream that my parents told me that if I didn't get the Christmas tree, there would be no tree at all. The next day, they asked me to go get the tree. I went right a way. Sunday I got my own tree, my very first own tree. We asked the old man, Frank, across the street where to get one. He directed us all over Brooklyn, but with only a push-shopping cart to get it back home, we opted out of Bensonhurst. It's a great tree, 6 foot tall, scenting the house with pine, decorated with only some of the huge excess of ornaments my parents own. I also tried to glue and glitter mine and Angel's names onto stockings. I did mine first since it is shorter and to get some practice. After it came out pretty well, I began Angel's. I completely screwed it up with all the curly parts to his name when written in cursive. I had to wash it off, and wait until tonight for it to be fully dried to try again. I think I'll make him do his own. I went down to Union Square to finish my shopping. I figured I'd easily be able to do it in just over an hour. It was actually more like 2 hours. I first forgot which Barnes and Noble I put a book on hold at, wasting 20 minutes to find it was not at Astor Place. I then went to the Virgin Megastore to get 2 copies of the same cd. They only had one and then had to wait in line. The Union Square Holiday market completely wrapped me in, making me forget I was supposed to be working and not shopping. I found a nice mirror with a tin designed frame for myself. Luckily, they only take cash so all other impulse buys were impossible. At the Union Square B&N, I found out that this too was not the store that I put a book on hold. There was a copy on the shelves that I waited in line to buy. Two hours later, I reluctantly returned to work, enjoying my little excursion out of the office. Monday, December 17, 2001 I would like to point out that the suggestion on this page to eat onion soup to prevent a hangover is a load of crap. I state this as my stomach has yet to fully heal from the onion soup I ate last Thursday leading to a complete miserable last Friday which required I go home to New Jersey after work because I was so cracked out. I couldn't imagine getting on the sunway, running the risk of ahving to stand and not be able to sleep at all. I got on NJ Transit and slept for the half hour to the home-town. Because of Onion Soup making my drinking all the more worse, not the better. I no longer believe in anything I read on any of the pages of the above web site. Speaking of drinking, we had our holiday booze cruise last night. I brought my old college roommate because she's more fun than anyone here. The guy from the mailroom thought so as well. It was an okay time but a big corporate (regardless of whether or not it's non-profit, there are still 250 on a boat on the Hudson) party is inherently creepy. My friend got really drunk and needed me to recount the events of the evening, just like back in the good old carefree days of college. In between the tossing of the boat and the semi-permanent damage onion soup did on my stomach, I drank lightly and got a buzz on that wore off by the the time I got home at a very respectable 10:45. Of course, falling asleep at 11 pm is still too early, no matter how I lament my aging, so I woke at 6, read for a while then accidentally closed my eyes after I shut off my alarm. This means I was late for work. And even if I was completely not drunk, woke early to read some Andre Dubus essays, and just nodded back off in the gray light of this morning, everyone still loooked at me when I came in like I must have a terrible hangover. Fortunately, no one has ever seen me come in when I am truly hungover. Friday, December 14, 2001 Upon studying for the LSATS (again, since my test in now in February), and having an increased ability to concentrate than I did in September, I believe I a pretty good chance to rock this standardized test. Yesterday was my day off. I almost listed what I purchased when I realized that people might find out their Christmas presents. Let's just say, I did a good job. Last year, having Christmas in a strange home in a horrible town, my family seemed too out of it to get a Christmas the way we do it together. So I spent days running all of the great malls of the great state of New Jersey (pronounced mauls, because that's one part of the Jersey I can't get rid of no matter how hard I try). I bought gifts from parents to kids, from parent to parent and all combinations of parent kids and grandma. I just wanted Christmas as a holiday that can exist even without the large tree filling up the bow window, cats hitting ornaments off the tree, the Christmas Story on tv, all that good stuff. I also got my hair cut, went to a Rangers game, started making a scarf for Katie (ask me for a scarf and you shall receive one), and experienced interesting things which will pan out over the course of the next months. The world is pretty disgusting when my younger sister's friend can't return to this country without being harassed because she has a Muslim name and pretty light brown skin. The sting of our multi-cultural neighborhood, our ethincally diverse upbringings, is that these rules do not apply outside of certain communities. Ask my sister, who is gay, what it was like walking with her girlfriend in our town compared to any place else. And the airport, of all places, is the most hostile to young American student trying to come home after studying friggin marine biology in Australia when her name has a completely different context than it did when she left this summer. The Palestinian/Israeli situation bothers me more than any other. It makes me feel alienated from a government I want to participate in. It makes that really good LSAT score meaningless to use to get a law & policy degree when these goings on occur. Or is this answer that I should go for it even more so with these creepy money-hungry types that couldn't give a damn populating law schools and governing bodies. That I should put myself in that situation to stop allowing those types to make the decisions and give them a dose of what I think it important. Then I can try to do what I can to make it the way I see just. Thursday, December 13, 2001 This is more like it. That link is a NY Times article about the heaps and piles and over whelmingly large amount of really bad advertising that has been produced as a result of the terrorists attacks. Ads that are obviously made by people who only see the world in profit margins, not feelings and issues that are beyond red/white/blue. I was getting exhausted with the Empire State Building being red/white/blue for nearly 3 months. If life was supposed to go back to normal, then the Empire State Building should change colors all the time, for reasons you may or may not know. It was particularly trying when I was here half the evening last week, the colors pouring through the lunch room windows. But then it changed to red and green, saying Merry Christmas, buy some presents, get in a festive mood, get out those large pants and have a merry old time. When I was walking to the subway, a little kid of 5 noticed this as well, stopped in the middle of the busy after-work Madison Avenue sidewalk, pointed up and said, "Look mommy, they finally changed the colors." And he smiled and his mom bent down to look up from his eye level, and everyone who heard him turned and looked up at the new red and green. They all smiled too. (p.s. I swear I just heard the office manager, you know, the loud one who is occasionally red faced and scenting the hallway with alcohol, say "Come on, don't be a sexist, women do drink beer," and then some blah blah blahing followed up "and all men take a sex enhancer." I might have misheard the end, but close the door man) Tuesday, December 11, 2001 I'm doing the most boring of the all boring tasks that make up my paid, vacationed with free benefits employment. Of course, this means I am simultaneously looking for meaningless things on the internet. But then I found this hand carved crochet hook on ebay. The entire collection is located on this page. Ooooo, how perty and loverly and touchably wonderful. A wooden hook would have a certain give that metal ones just don't have, preventing that cramping I get when trying to hold onto the subway bars after crocheting too much the night before. I would love one of these babies. Tuesday, December 11, 2001 My old roommate from Dublin is getting married to her boyfriend of forever. They bought a house together about a year ago, they have cute pet names for each other: Ina & Sparky. One of her friends from the hometown Carrick-on-Shannon replied with "Aaaah Cathriona, that is deadly." He is a supermarket manager, she works in corporate, international Citibank and finished her degree last year after going to school part-time for 6 years. He owns a small Asian-made car, she is a terrible driver. About half way through my stay in Dublin 7, we needed to find two new roommates as the German's were moving out. Aisling, who was the head of the house, made sure there were garbage bags and paper towels, was in the Caribbean on her summer internship. The job of finding new people was left up to Dermot and me (yes, these are their actual names). Dermot and I were some pair: we would watch the Simpson’s on the various stations from 5:30 until 8 and get 4 packs of ale from the off-license to drink in front of the television. Aisling once kicked us out of the house on a sunny Saturday, giving us a soccer/football and telling us to go to the park. He tried to teach me Gaelic-rules football; we wound up very muddy. I didn't think we were the best people to be choosing roommates. I did convince him not to pick the two girls who worked at a club. One of the girls who showed up was Cathriona; she’d met Dermot a few years ago when the lived in the same area of Dolphin’s Barn (which is also the real name). When she moved in, she liked to watch English soaps and Friends in the evening along with the second new roommate Eimear. Dermot and I missed the Simpson’s. My last two weeks in Ireland, I decided to pack a bag and travel around the country. Cathriona invited me to take the bus to her parents' house for the weekend to begin my trip. For two days, I spent time with her at her little town of Carrick-on-Shannon, getting completed plastered going out with her old time friends, getting my ass pinched more than it ever has been at one of the pubs and going to her grandmother’s house which is easily the oldest house I’ve ever been in. After that time, we’d become good friends. She was a funny girl who managed a laugh out of everyone. She reminded me of my best friend from nursery school: someone who I could just laugh endlessly with. The next Spring, she came to New York with her boyfriend. I met them for drinks one night at Art Bar. Her boyfriend, Mark, kept buying me drink after drink, never allowing me the chance to say I was done. This was the first and only time I have driven while under the influence from the Maplewood train station to home. They went with me to Boston to pick up Kasey for Spring break. They couldn’t grasp our mayor/governor/president organization of government. They thought my mother’s Pontiac was the biggest car ever. They got pretty pissed when bars wouldn’t let us in because Cathriona has no i.d. and Mark’s driver’s license (which was about 3” x 5”) wasn’t considered an acceptable form. They still made me take a picture of them outside of Cheers. I have always been afraid of one of my friends getting married; reminding me of how people are growing up. Maybe it’s because she’s a few years older, maybe it’s because she’s Irish, but it’s not as scary as when Dermot & Aisling got married. Maybe it’s because I know she’s a funny girl and Sparky & Ina are just good together. Monday, December 10, 2001 Firstly, I don't feel bad about coming in late since I was working so late earlier this week that I barely had time to go home. Secondly, I'm having a miserable day. Angel and I made dinner, went for a few beers, returned home at a partially-sensible hour of 2 am and then proceeded to have soup in the middle of the morning. I did not want soup, I'd bought myself little Cadbury cookies to munch on. But when there was a warm bowl of onion soup for me, I ate it. I regret this. 7 am: my alarm goes off. I set the volume up to wake me. I had trouble hitting snooze, managed to turn on the radio instead. Eventually just shut it off. 8 am: I woke, I turned over and pretended to die. 8:30 am: Still pretending to die, wide awake but unable to move. 9 am: Contemplated a shower but thought it would make me get to work too late(r). 9:15 am: Angel got into the shower, I managed to get on some clothes and choke down an Aleve. 9:30 am: I left the house with Angel who was a bit sleepy but his stomach was not doing onion soup filled somersaults. 9:31 am: I say for the 5 time that I'm not drinking for a while now. I do this, it's been a while since my last declaration of not drinking. 9:32 am: I think of returning to the house, my stomach is turning and tossing like bingo balls waiting to be picked. 9:33 am: Conversation that made the morning surivivable Angel- But we had fun last night. When I broke the Yankee's glass I wanted to steal, when we talked to those people about Stevie Wonder.10:05 am: I quickly leave the train at West 4th Street, I can't imagine going through one more bumb or turn without having to toss the cookies in the black bag i'd been holding on to for the whole ride. 10:40 am: After all but crawling from 4th Street to 34th, I arrive at work and slowly munch on pennystick pretzels to calm the tummy. I must say, though, the elevator is still one hell of a ride for me today. Friday, December 7, 2001 I'm ready to start writing nasty letters, I'm ready to start letting the rest of the world know how wrong they are. If I'm complaining about it, someone with CEO after their name (how pretentious is it to add that, as if it is something like PhD or Md?), is getting it in writing to tell them how tasteless their ad campaigns are. I'm afraid if I start, though, I'll be a nutty old bat who sits and writes nasty letters to corporations and never just lets anything go. The commercial that has me all worked up is the Chevy Truck commercial with a truck driving up the folds of the Statue of Liberty's gown while that annoying latino pop star's "Hero" song is playing in the back group (the person being either (a) whatever-Iglesias, (b) Ricky Martin -or- (c) Marc Anthony, they are all the same to me). This truck as a symbol of freedom, heroicism, the tragedy of the terrorists attacks. It's a god-damned truck! I want to see mountains and sheep and cows, the bed full of lumber or a keg. Those things mean truck to me. Not some pansy ass truck in the city. No one who drives a truck in the city is to be taken seriously. And no one should be driving up the Statue of Liberty. The disgusting saturation of so-called symbolism makes me a bit green from my stomach turning. "I could be your hero, baby . . . you (pause) you set me free." If they wanted to join the "use the terrorists attacks for sales pitches" ranks, at least they could have shown the stupid truck driving up the tension cables of the Brooklyn Bridge. But no, they used the Statue of Liberty. They might as well show their truck driving through the rubble where the WTC used to stand. These ad people need to think, take a step back and leave some things alone. They need to talk to people in New York, they need to test their ads and see if they piss us off more than most things do. Because most of these ads that are using the terrorists attacks for increased sales are truly tasteless. And I'm going to let at least Chevy know this because right now they sit at the top of the list for complete lack of taste. Thursday, December 6, 2001 I'm submitting a secondary grievance for something already complained about because I am too darn busy but to suffer through it. I left work Monday at 8:30, yesterday at 7 and today it looks like as long as I can handle it. I have 18 tables to check for 1 appendix, I checked 4 tables that took nearly an hour each. Once checking is done, I have to adjust errors (not in numbers, but style) that my keen eye has picked out. I really don't have the time to get up and leave the office right now. But I cannot, one teeny bit, tolerate the wooooo-sssssssip of my officemates tea drinking habit. Maybe I should take it up just so he knows how aggrivating it is. What exactly do you do under these circumstances: Excuse me but shouldn't suck the tea out of the cup, open your mouth a bit and let a small amount enter your lips as you tilt the cup. I mean, that's a bit rude. And how about: Don't you know you should eat with your mouth shut? Because even though I can't see it all I hear is my typing, the computer fans whirring and smach, slap, lips flapping, wooo-sssssip. This is why I don't mind working until 8:30 or so, at least it's quiet. Wednesday, December 5, 2001 This is not a political statement nor one in which I take sides or determine the right or wrong of the matter at hand. It is merely an observation of irony regarding our war on terrorism. It is probably mostly supported by the fact that I am willing to be more critical as now the Israeli government is attacking "terrorists" groups as part of this world-wide effort to end all forms of terrorism. I am a supporter of the Palestinian freedom movement but would not consider myself an expert on the historic and current details. The back ground to what I want to point out: The average European finds our right to arms almost laughable and has little sympathy for gun violence as we are allowing it to occur by allowing our citizens to have guns. While gun legislation is necessary which can be shown by the thousands of criminals who have been denied purchase of guns in the few years that the Brady Bill's madatory waiting period has gone into effect, the right to arms is in our constitution and I support it. Changing it firstly threatens other constitutional freedoms and at the very least the average gun owner would join a militia if Geroge W. Bush declares himself emperor (don't be surprised). The basic reason for this right is to allow the people to fight if all other checks in our government fail and we are faced with an unwanted and unfair ruler. We have this right in our constitution, which is marking of our free republic. Secondly, if George W. Bush was ruler of England in the 1770s, the Boston Tea Party would definitely have been an act of terrorism based on his support of the Israeli government. There was an acting government in place, there were supporters of England. But the majority felt that this way of governing was not just and the large number of them supporting this view allowed us to not to have Cadbury's readily available and lead to the creation of television shows like "Friends" over smarter and wittier British programs. Palestinians have been marginalized, pushed out and generally put into a situation similar to the Jim Crow south while the Jewish Israelis are doing better off. In 60 years, this new government took over a country and told the majority that they are the political and economic minority. Our President thinks that their stuggle for freedom is also an act of terrorism. It's funny that we believe in the right for people to fight against unjust governments, insure this in our constitution. But only if it is, the IRA, for example, who we can sell guns to, and not Palestinians, since the Israelis have much vested financial interest in the USA. Our President needs a history lesson. Our President needs to remember that attacking the World Trade Center because someone thinks we're an evil country is different from political struggles for freedom and land. Regardless of whether of not any of the current events are just, they have a general air of suspicion about them. I lied about not making a statement: Israel should not be using the current political climate to continue to marginalize groups stuggling to become free. Tuesday, December 4, 2001 The head of the department I work in, which is more than 50% of the company, who lives in "Mansion Row", the big beautiful houses near my home that have wrap around porches and two storey columns, who appeared at our Friday party, which is normally populated by the poor kids in their 20s wearing the company softball jersey because he was "cold", sent this to the entire staff this morning: Let the book of life record on the first day of December in our year 2001, in the great borough of Brooklyn, that the forsythia, honesuckle, and crocuses did blossom, while buds doth appear on the weeping cherry and azalea, and furthermore that flowers, which long since should have gone to winter sleep have continued to flower - most notably the rose bush hath had massive and many beautiful golden and red flowers in bloom since July.This is why I work here and not some corporate hell-hole. This is worth the cut in pay, because people here stop and look. People here share the world and share laughter. For example, we are in the middle of evaluation season. To assist with what our supervisors write, we had to do self-evaluations. These proved to be hard and difficult, especially since I've only been here for 7 months. My officemate with the nasty hissing sipping habit found funny lines from evaluations off the internet and sent them to all of the assistants including prizes like: "It's hard to believe that he beat out 1,000,000 other sperm." My boss and I had a great exchange as I'm super busy and super clueless in writing my self-evaultion. I wrote to him: "With all the tasks involved in the report, I have very little time to praise myself for all my hard work." And he smartly replied, "You get extra points for work-imposed humility." And then the crappy day, including 3 hours of checking numbers which are always correct, wasn't so bad. Monday, December 3, 2001 |
|
Love these Marie Bess Ratbastard Savecraig Explodingdog Sadgirlseven Miz_a |
|
|
Obligatory Props Pretty Colors pitas / |