rhymes with rhyme














navigation
current
archives
links page
profile















no comment
November 16, 2009

The silence has spoken; comments are gone.


I�m in a foul mood.

Last week was a real treat at work�Got my usual end-of-year assfucking from management. They have assigned me six hours a day of testing from now till the end of the year, ON TOP of my usual full-time responsibilities, and WITHIN the standard work week (no overtime).

We received notification that in lieu of our Thanksgiving turkeys, the company was making a donation to a food bank.

I�d like to see the damned check before I believe that BS. Can you say �The Human Fund�?

And if, by chance, they do send a check, it still stinks like a week-old flounder. It�s just like Wally�s with the CMN and this shithole with the UW�they beg, bully and steal every penny they can from the help, and then get all the credit for how noble and charitable the company is.

Here�s the thing. I do not need anyone acting charitable on my behalf, as I AM ALREADY a charitable person.
Another reason for the foul mood�I�ve got the post-nasal yuck drainage, and the usual collateral damage in the form of a sore throat and an earache�and on my good ear side, too, which is doubly unfortunate. It started yesterday morning, and is really starting to get on my nerves. I feel like someone stuck me in the tonsil with a rusty nail. It�s times like this that I feel like pouring rubbing alcohol into my ear canal to displace the moisture and dry out the wet, mucky feeing in my ears. And maybe kill the germs, too. I won�t�that would probably be pretty stupid. But it always seems logical--like it�s just crazy enough to work.
I finally got up the nerve to send an email to my long-lost friend. Haven�t heard back from her, though. Might not ever. Depends on what she wants, not what I want. I�ve been around the track too many times to assume that everyone I�d like to be friends with wants to be friends with me.
Started my Christmas shopping already, believe it or not. I bought W&T a Hamilton Beach 22-quart Electric Roaster in a stainless steel finish. Good old Farm & Fleet�paid $35.00 for it. I was going to get them one just like mine (the Proctor-Silex 18-quart in enamel) for $23.00, but this one was lots nicer and still within my budget, so I bought them one that�s better than mine. And now I�m jealous.

And Nephew is getting the gift of theatre�I�m taking him to see Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp (SQUEE! The REAL Roger and Mark!) in �Rent�, the Saturday after Thanksgiving. A little pressy-wessy for me in there, too, you notice. Another chapter in the saga of two old rentheads.

Haven�t got a clue on the rest, though. Sis-In-Law E is not getting the unwrappy kind of gift, since she�s being treated to her plane ticket and hotel in LV. But I still need to get everybody else figured out.
Speaking of the holidays�
I�ve begun to try and judge the involvement level for this year�s holidays, and it�s more �Winterheart Coalstocking� than �Zippy Candylips�, that�s clear. Shaping up to be an incredibly low-enthusiasm year.
Tree�nah. Decorating�nah. Carols�meh. Cookies�maybe. Cards�probably. (Gifts, of course, are in the �never want to but never get a choice� category.)

I wish I knew how to approach the whole thing without overwhelming dread. Move to Israel, maybe?

Reading: �Ruth Fielding At Briarwood Hall�, by Alice B. Emerson (pseud., W. Bert Foster, copyright 1913) and �A Common Life� by Jan Karon�mainly because I needed to grab a book on my way out this morning, and it was handy.

Surfing: great golly Moses, I WANT THIS SHIRT!

Listening: The Pixies, U2, Counting Crows, Stevie Ray Vaughan

At Random: click here

recede - proceed

hosted by DiaryLand.com