Take car. Go to Mum's. Kill Phil. Grab Liz, go to the Winchester, have a nice cold pint and wait for all of this to blow over.

Damn it. Just... damn it. At least August is ending. Turns out I'm allergic to Chantix in a scary, could-become-anaphylactic way, so I'm toughing out withdrawals for the millionth time. God, I'd love a cigarette. Disgusting taste, nasty smell, I don't care- I want a damn cigarette or twelve. Thank God for benzos. I had funny stuff to tell y'all, but the withdrawals are eating my head and i can't remember now. Oh, yeah: The Maus has bought the Marvel Universe. I damn near cried when the email came this morning. value my job, but certain things DO NOT belong together. Should NEVER be associated. EVER. They dilute and pollute both separate identities. Friggin' horrifying.

I owe my soul to the company store...

Miserably sad. Feelin' sorry for myself and for others. Had a crap visit for my girly checkup with a new GYN today- my shrink had hinted/agreed that after the disastrous endocrinologist visit I should see a regular doc 'bout my hormone tests rather than Planned Parenthood, so I picked a lady doc listed with my insurance (I like men, but prefer someone with personal experience of cooters examining mine). I didn't realize that because P. P'hood is pro-choice, and doesn't wanna guilt trip anyone in either direction, they don't have pictures of babies all over their walls (they have funny posters listing all the stuff you can Do instead of It- some cheesy, some not), but regular non-pro-choice gynos apparenly have HUNDREDS of babies they've helped with- and this is why I didn't choose an OB/gyn!!!!!!!. Given my extreme issues about kids-of-my-own, given my own STRONG pro-choice stance, and given that the purpose of my visit was partly to discuss birth control methods, the cute (and NOT cute) baby pics were seriously discouraging and sad. Out of all 2- or 300, there was only one little guy I wanted, (and he damn near killed me). I would never, ever recommend that office to a preggers and conflicted friend, put it that way. Then the doc- who was barely older than me, which felt weird (I miss my ARNP in Tally so much!!)- told me that the weird hormone test I owe 300 bucks for DOESN'T COUNT cause I was on the Pill at the time, and the test had to be redone. Then, during our BC talk, I realized she's the kind of doc that doesn't like patients who do their own research- unlike my fantastic (yet conservative) shrink- and then, when she heard the word "bipolar," she shut down entirely. I asked about Chantix, the quit-smoking pill, which my INSANE CHAINSMOKING coworker has done unbelievably well with, and she was all, "Well, given... your history... I'd be a little nervous recommending it...." Yeah. Whatevs. (BITCH). My shrink is okay with prescribing anything I truly should take, even cholesterol meds- which are decidedly Not Head Meds- yet this woman can remind me I have NO BUSINESS smoking at my age on the Pill, prescribe me more Pills, but not be willing to prescribe something that might help me finally quit for good, cause I'm a wee bit "off" in the head. NOT that she wanted to discuss it, even in light of the OBVIOUS cycle my moods follow, not even with the questionable hormone tests. No wonder that office has you watch a 10 minute video about malpractice and arbitration before they'll see you. To get as close to cussing as Southern women are sposed to do, BLESS THEIR HEARTS, they're more cautious than a rabbit in a fox preserve. GAR.

So I came home, took a nap, noticed I'm a hundred bucks overdrawn (whoops! Ouch!), made an appt with my regular doc to get Chantix (I told the receptionist the situ, she said, "OMG! My husband quit with that ! How's tomorrow?" I said, "I have no money for the copay," and she said, "Who cares? We'll bill you for months!" So I'm going). I felt a little better, PPV'd "Interview With the Vampire" for 2 bucks, then, 3 mins into the glorious silliness that is Tommy C playing Lestat got a txt from my friend and co-worker that he got "walked" today. That's the D***** euphemism for getting shitcanned and walked out of the building by security guards who may or may not let you collect your belongings-including car keys. He's having an Unemployment Gathering, assuming 8 or more people show up (work in-joke), and I can't go. Not cause of Dan's sleep-depped fit the other night, I just can't go. I have barely enough gas to get to the doc's tomorrow, no money to get more, my car insurance is currently nonexistent, I barely remember how to get to my friend's house, and since my bad bout of neuritis, I'm terrified when driving in the dark (the blind spot's mostly gone most of the time, but I'm terrified it'll return full-bore, especially at night. I try not to mention to anyone when it's only a little noticeable- I'm too darn scared of MS or simple (!) blindness), and I'll be DAMNED if I'm gonna tell my newly unemplyed friend that I'm too broke to come over. That's like the one-legged cripple sobbing to the no-legged cripple. Not to be vulgar, but it IS.

Anyway, I'm not the happiest camper this minute. Glad I'm off tomorrow, glad in a weird way that my cousin finally had himself a baby girl (don't ask), shamefully glad I haven't been fired yet. I keep counting off all the friends I've had there who are gone now and getting sadder and sadder about trying to have friends at work at all, but I'm okay. And lucky, so far. Yay.

Arf.

Yep, I wasn't kidding. August is crap so far. Work is not good (but could be worse), money is not good (but could be worse), and home isn't exactly terrific at the moment (Dan's now working two jobs, the time-suckage is enormous, and balancing me with his family is tough, to say the least). I just want to be 50 lbs lighter, like I'm sposed to be, and have one day with enough time and bucks so I could go to the mall and look for an outfit and go to the used bookstore-without getting lost-and misbehave a little bit there, and maybe go to a girly movie in the afternoon when no-one's there, and not feel guilty after about any of it. That's all I want. To not be tired and sad and sick for no reason, and broke on top of that, and making everybody dislike me cuz I'm a horrible Debbie Downer. Then again, at least 3/4 of the people at my job are in the same position, so at least I have company, right? And a job to commiserate over in the first place. Lucky me! (No, really, I am, and I know it. Being "broke-but-hey-did-you-see-the-fancy-cell-I-got-for-free-with-my-contract-renewal?" ain't ezactly Darfur). Here, let's all have an AWESOME happy song:

workin' for that Yankee dollar

You know, pineapple rum and Orange Coke (don't argue with the nomenclature, I'm Southern) do NOT mix well. I tried it blendered with cantaloupe and... um... that green kind of melon (?), but that's basically a waste of likker. Does get your fiber in, though.

I'm freakin' exhausted. Slept 'til noon today, been crashing at like 7 every night. We've had 5 or 6 new offers drop at work in the past week, and the calls have been balls-out back to back every day. I wouldn't mind so much except that your talk time counts against your sales, and nearly every call has been modifying existing bookings, which doesn't help my numbers one bit. Argh!

There's family drama going on too, but I won't get into that here- it's just annoying that August is always the dog days of my year, and this isn't shaping up to be any exception.

Hulk Smaaaaaaaaaash!

So there's this Event held in Central Florida the first week in June. It's a huge festival, with all kinds of parties and gatherings held all over the area, including days at the company I work for, which does not actually sponsor the event. I got a call at work today from the TA for a man, due to arrive with his family tomorrow, who was just mortally offended by the idea of my employer being connected to this event in any way. The TA requested a phone number for someone at my workplace who could "comfort" the client. It's been three hours since I took that call, and I'm still absolutely ballistic about it. I've had similar calls before, and I can never get over someone thinking it's okay to announce, "Hey, I'm a bigot!" about this one group when they'd never, ever say it in public if they thought the same thing of other groups, like, oh, brown people or fat people- scratch that, they might say it about us less-thinners if they'd say it about teh gheys. I'm just... utterly enraged. For one thing, my employer happens to be "committed to diversity." Ya know what that means? For the one week a year there are a lot of people in red shirts about, there are 51 other weeks where your concierge, your wait staff, your Costumed Entertainers (hee... are they the opposite of "Watchmen"'s Costumed Adventurers?), are pretty darned likely to have orientations you aren't aware of. A certain number of them may well be LGBT- or even *gasp* NOT, and you might not know... cause it's NOT YOUR BUSINESS, thankyouverymuch.

I wouldn't be quite so angry if I hadn't, during the very tactful convo, suggested to the TA that maybe she could help her client by Googling the schedule of events and telling them which days are planned where so that they could choose alternate destinations. I came home and did that myself, and found the calendar (euFURbia!?! Squee, I wanna go!!), as well as links to some truly bigoted nonsense which I REFUSE to link to, from certain groups demanding their followers boycott this week and asking that this event we don't sponsor or plan be held at night only, with separate, special party tickets. Number one, the festival in question has pretty awesome parties planned at night already, and number two...whatwhatWHAT???!!!!!??? Are we gonna start doing this every day? Do we need new drinking fountains, too? And how, exactly, do you get someone to prove they are or aren't of an orientation? Is there a membership card? Shoot, I'd kiss a girl just BECAUSE if asked to "prove" anything like that. GARRRRRRR, I'm just livid. And ya know what? I've had two weekends in a row at my workplace, and was ready to chill on my days off this week, maybe paint some of the new apartment, but I think, just 'cause of this garbage, I might be turning out at some point this week, too, just to hope to help hear the local news talk about a "record crowd." Bigots. Grr.

Home, where my dogs are sleepin'...

Yeah, I'm an idiot- just found out that line is "where my thought's escaping." Been singing it wrong since I was, oh, 5 or so. Heh.




I've been doing some preliminary househunting. We don't have to have a place 'til the end of July, but I like knowing where my books are gonna be. Found a really nice place today. It's a possible if they keep the awesome rent specials for a little longer.

Saw my new regular-stuff doc today, too, and she's deffo an improvement. Unfortunately, we agreed on enough blood tests that I'm basically exsanguinated now (EIGHT tubes! EIGHT!!), but maybe, hopefully we can use 'em to narrow down whatever the hell is or isn't wrong with me, and I can stop taking so many drugs.

Don't wanna go to work tomorrow. It's good that the biz has picked up, but that couple of weeks when nobody was booking anything was really chill and nice. Course, I'd run out of books if it were always like that- but I can wish!

Excuse me, I believe you have my stapler

Dear Lord. Longest day EVAR at work. You know The Two Bobs in "Office Space?" Yeah, they've been visiting us this week. I'd be less freaked out if I hadn't TWICE been speaking with someone when they got the word it was time to go. And one of 'em was my boss. Scary.... They say they're done (for now), but I think it'll take a minute for any of us to exhale, especially given the way business isn't going right now. And I'ma shoot someone if the tv doesn't quit mentioning "the economy" while it tries to sell me stuff. Blargh. I'm gonna go eat another cookie.

Good times, bad times

Another awake-before-the-sun day. Good news: that request to split my workday 4 + 4 finally got approved for the next month, 'til our shifts change. Yay! With 4 hours between to take a nap, I can finally start getting more than 20 hours a week done again. Getting caught up on bills before Christmas would = a happy Jenny.

I've been kinda bummed about finishing the Lovett outfit (end-of-project blues?), so am trying to choose the next big Thing To Make. I've got a pattern for a sorta retro, June-Cleaver-at-a-cocktail-party dress that I'm thinking of trying. It's fairly complicated, but it would be super cute if it comes out well. Might even do for the Xmas party at work. Just need to pick a color! **

** (7 PM update) Word is they've canceled the work Xmas party ('cause of the damn economy), so I guess the June Cleaver dress would be semi-pointless. Poo. Back to the drawing board.

Wishin' and hopin'

It's late and getting later, and I am wi-yi-yide awake. Had a boring, quiet weekend. Got the house clean, though, in time for it almost to burn down yesterday- that was exciting- and now I'm up and chipper and don't have a damn thing to do. Well, there's not much on the list of things I feel like doing that I actually CAN do this time of night- hello, why else would I be blogging.

Been doing all these goofy career tests, getting all the same results, none of which do much for me. I have no idea what I want to do with myself, loads of ideas about what I don't want. Not very helpful.

On a happier note, I just finished a pretty good book. Liked her first, DESPISED her second, didn't read her third... and now her fourth turns out to be awright. Four bucks well-spent. Yay!

I can't believe I'm anxious to go to work.

Yeah, I'm pretty much bored off my ass. Woke up at insanely-early-o'clock, went and bought Commits- I swear, eventually I'll wean off of 'em, but anything's better than praying to Joe Camel- talked to my mom, and did some housecleaning. Now I'm thinking about attacking my iTunes list, but I am so not feeling like digging through 1500 songs for title-and-artist misspellings and album covers and stuff.

Would it be incredibly lazy and wasteful of me to buy a new shower curtain? I can't get the damn thing clean, and it's kinda grossing me out.

This is ridiculous. Maybe I should start doing recreational drugs- don't they take up a lot of time? *sigh* Maybe I'll go to the usedbookstore.