I shouldn't be allowed out without parental supervision.

Well, here's a fun confession:

I just visited the bathroom and checked myself in the mirror on my way out to make sure everything is still where i left it (and to fluff my hair, if you must know) when i noticed that there's a bit of white shmutz under the arm-holes of my shirt. I'm wearing kind of a sleeveless top with sort of a cap-sleeve thing and for some reason my deodorant, my INVISIBLE! solid deodorant, has mushed itself all over my dark red shirt. In the arm pit area. Obviously.

I inspected the area fully and determined that i'm not going to be able to wipe this off with a wet paper towel, that will probably just make it worse, and kind of resigned myself to keeping my arms down all day today. Which sucks, because i'm either going to be totally self-conscious the whole day or i'm going to forget about it in all of 20 minutes from now and wave my arms around like a baboon who's just spotted a helpless car coming into the Six Flags Safari that likes to rip off all of the radio antenae that pass by. I am forgetful like that.

I walked back to my desk and started "working*" again and remembered that i have one of those Shout Wipes in my purse. Right where they're supposed to be! For messy people like me! But it's been in there since April and i haven't thought about it in months! Look at me remembering things! And proceed to take it out and start to blot the underarms of my shirt at my desk, where People walk around all day.

It occurs to me that
#1: Someone is bound to catch me with my face and a wet-nap in my armpit.
#2: It's going to be very hard to explain.
#3: A mirror may be in order here to fully contend with the extent of the mushed deodorant.
And #4: I look like an asshole.

I trot off to the bathroom to further investigate the situation.

By this point, i'm awful proud of myself for having something like a Shout Wipe to get rid of the shmutz under my arms and take off my shirt to do the job right (It's ok, i have a camisole on underneath). However, i didn't realize just how WET these little wipes ARE. But i think, No Problem! I can just dry my shirt under the hand-dryers here in the bathroom!

I look around.

Lo, but there are no hand-dryers. They probably haven't been here since 2002. Disappointment.

I try blotting the moisture out with a paper towel and put my top back on.

Now i look like i've been sweating profusely, seemingly, just from sitting in my cubicle all morning with these giant sweat rings under my arms. The white gunk is gone, but now i'm left a sweaty, sweaty pig.

I will still need to keep my arms down all day. Oh, and chuck that damned INVISIBLE! deodorant. Really, Dove, who are we kidding.



*Read: catching up on my Google Reader.

Stupid Websense

It's finally happened. I've finally been blocked from almost all blogs from my office computer. It looks like they figured me out.

If you've noticed that i've stopped commenting on your blog, it's completely the fault of my employer. Blame them completely.

I just had to figure out how to email my posts. HAHA i know, i don't post very often, but if i didn't figure out how to set that up, you'd never hear from me again.

Stupid Websense. I bet they think it's for my own good or something. Feh.

If i was going to be a doctor, i would probably choose Proctology over Opthamology. Like for reals.

E-mail from this morning to The Boss:

From: Claire
Sent: Monday, October 29, 2007 9:52 AM
To: The Boss
Subject: Tuesday - will be late

Just a reminder –

Will be late on Tuesday morning. Have eye-doctor appointment @ 9am. Shouldn't be in later than 10:00.

Though, if I am later than 10am, it is because I am spastic and am possibly getting my new contacts stuck in my hair / on floor / folded in half, scratching my cornea.

Just so you know.

Tomorrow! I will finally be amongst the people who have decided that it is no trouble sticking their own fingers in their eyes. I am excited. Especially since this is a big step for me. This is something that i should have done years ago, but i didn't realize that contact lenses were covered by my health insurance.





Um. That is totally a cover story. The health insurance thing. I've actually known for years. The truth is i am totally afraid of sticking something in my eye. You know, wearing glasses since the 9th grade and all would probably get old to most normal people. But not me. Me of the squeamish. I mean, really.

I hate all things relating to eyes. It just freaks me out. The glaucoma test at the eye doctor? Horrifying. Absolutely horrifying. I never sit still for the puff of air. I always sit there and they tell me to hold still with your face in the plastic chin-rest thing and then at the last second i pull away. Or blink. Or scream.

Now, they put these nasty drops in your eyes and have that blue light deal that they look through to see if there's any glaucoma stuff.

What i didn't realize, until my doctor told me because i kept pulling away - like a 5 year old, was that those nasty drops? They numb your eyeball. Like, totally numb it. You know why?

So they can stick that blue light thing on your eye while he looks though it. THEY STICK IT ON YOUR EYE. LIKE TOUCHING IT. ON YOUR EYE. The drops make it so that you don't feel it. Isn't that nice?

I was nauseous for about an hour after that. I sort of wish he hadn't told me.

Others have suggested i try the Lasik surgery. HAHAHAHA!! Yeah right, guys. If i can't handle a glaucoma test, i certainly can't handle having those creepy horror-movie clamps holding my eyelids open with LASERS pointed at my retinas for "probably 5 minutes". That's so not going to happen. And there's a chance my eyesight may get worse? Yeah, no thanks. I'll wait until the procedure is PERFECT, thank you very much.

God, i hope i never develop cataracts.



I guess we'll see how the "contact training session" goes. Everyone tells me its no big deal and it will just take a couple of tries to get used to it.

I am putting my eyes in their hands.


(HA!)

Only 3 days until payday...

But until then....



WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S HAPPY BOUNCING CHECK DAY!!!!!!!!!!


LOOK AT THEM ALL GO!!!!! BOUNCY BOUNCY BOUNCY BOUNCY!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!









This f-ing sucks.

My clothes. They do not match.

A brief IM from this morning with friend, M.

This is how today is going so far... it's only 9:20. I think i'd like to go home now:

8:56 AM M: merning

8:59 AM Claire: mernig

M: how was the weekend

9:00 AM Claire: better than today.

M: oh.

Claire: is for sure.

today is bad.

M: why

Claire: yesterday - good.

today - bad

M: why today - bad , and why yesterday - good

Claire: i have a sneeze from out of nowhere.

my face, there's two big spots.

my eye - has some sort of ouchie in it that i can't find since before i showered this morning.

my clothes. they do not match.

hair is drying half-wildly, also.

i sneezed myself sick, i think. again.

i was just sick.

how can i be sick again?

M: yeah Im sick now too , and with Goldenrod season and the eye problem yea yay

Claire: where's the justice in that?

hmm. allergies.

M: you might have them

flavor.. I has it*

Claire: Allergies. I has it.

*If you're not familiar with the lolcats thing, stay away from them. I love them. And that makes me pathetic. I know.

A LETTER FROM THE PAST! (oh god, i'm so embarrassed.)

A couple of weeks ago, i got the bug to go through some of the things i left behind at my mother's house. Most importantly, i was looking for my journals. Journals that had been crammed into every unsuspecting corner of my bedroom, hidden in such ways that i had to remember where they all were - and there are quite a few. I was good at keeping this stuff a secret by writing in old class notebooks; at the ends when there were always a couple of sections left empty if it was from a class that didn't require much note taking. So i would fill up the remainders of spiral notebooks and then put them right on my bookshelves in plain site. Very sneaky.

The trouble in finding them, is which notebook is really just Trigonometry and which has the details of that day in my junior year when i ditched school and walked to the stores around the corner instead of the bus stop to wait, crouched in the bushes by the deli so that my mother wouldn't see me when she drove past but keep an eye out for my friends who were going to pick me up and take me to the beach? Which notebook is that filed in? Hard to tell, is what i'm saying.

So i found a couple of them, some in spiral notebooks, others in yellow legal pads which were my note taking medium of choice when i started college (the first time). Probably because they were cheap and i had no money whatsoever.

This is so not the point.

The point is: I remember a lot of this stuff being kind of racy. And the idea of leaving my teenage thoughts lying around my bedroom unsupervised had kind of given me the heebie-jeebies for, oh i don't know, ever. This is stuff Mom should never, ever see. Ever. Even when i'm 50, mom should not accidentally come across my journals. You might think i'm being dramatic, but i just don't think she could ever look at me the same. It's not worth it.

The earliest one I unearthed is from 1998 and DAMN, THE DRAMA. I turned 18 that year, and I know that this is not the first one. I know this because it starts: "August 1, 1998: I guess i'll be starting in the old math notebook now..." and if you flip towards the front, you see... oh look at that. Trigonometry. Good guess, i had up there. I was just pulling something out of my ass...

ANYWAY.

I've found some really interesting things that i probably can't share here, unfortunately. See this post about telling people i know about having a blog. Sucks. There is possibly some incriminating dirt amongst the driveling, world-weary bullshit. It truly is amazing how difficult and heart-crushing it is to be 18.

After much persistence, i was able to find the one thing that i know i can share because i wrote it. On February 13, 1992. I was 11.

Inspired by Metalia in this post, i wanted to find some kind of notes from the way back to show what was going on in my head. And then i thought of this letter that my 6th grade English teacher had us write - to ourselves. A LETTER TO THE FUTURE!

We wrote a bunch of crap that was going on in our 11 year old lives, sealed and addressed them to ourselves. They were dropped into Ms. D's file cabinet and were scheduled to be mailed out 10 years later when we least expected it. According to the postmark, i received this in June of 2000 so i'm not sure what happened there, but i have a feeling Ms. D retired and decided that she wasn't going to be responsible for dealing with this shit after she was done and just sent them all out to the world. Not important.

Ready for this? Oh god, here we go:
My comments will be italicized. Because i cannot just post this and not beat the shit out of myself. I mean, come on.

2/13/1992

Dear Claire,

Hi! How am I? {That's a little LETTER FROM THE PAST humor}.
I'm in 6th grade at [name of jr high school].

This past year, the U.S.S.R. (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) {yeah, I really spelled it out. And underlined it. Just in case} just broke up and became their own countries. That took place January 1, 1992. There was a war in the middle east last year. The Berlin Wall came down last year. {i have a strange feeling that our teacher wanted us to say all of this - i don't remember being that up on my current events at 11. not like we could miss any of this stuff, i just don't buy that this was my idea.}

Enough about news, lets talk about styles. {oh yes, lets} One of the great styles this year are overalls with one or both straps down {gah, hello, 1992. I don't even know why i would mention this since i DIDN'T ACTUALLY OWN OVERALLS. I was SO not cool.} Another are button-down shirts that have sheer sleeves {also did not have any of these} Last year and this year Z.Caverrichi's [sic] are in style. {I certainly didn't have a pair of these. WAY too expensive and mom did not understand my need to be trendy. so i wasn't. I wore jeans - Levi's, most likely - that were tight rolled at the ankle and lots of socks. Also, leggings (so flattering) and giant ugly sweatshirts to cover my ass. I believe Keds were involved.}
Music that everyone likes {everyone? really?} is really a lot of rap. {i was so misguided in the 6th grade. and a sheep. baahh.} Like Boyz-2-Men, Club Cheatin' {who? i don't think i knew who this was back then, either}, Naughty by Nature (O.P.P) {Yeah, you know me}, Marky Mark {and his Funky Bunch?}, Iced Tea [sic], Ice Cube. {This is all so contrived i can't stand it. I was actually trying to fake being cool in a letter to myself. Hello, low self-esteem!} I like Boyz-2-Men, Good Vibrations (Marky Mark), O.P.P, Deee-Light[cough, sic] and B-52's. Vanilla Ice is totally out. {Like, ohmygod, TOTALLY OUT. He was like, so LAST YEAR.}

My best friend is Laura. She is here right now helping me write this letter. {oh. that's where the music inspiration came from. Laura had older sisters. We would pretend we were homeboys. Oh yes we did. Wrapping our arms across our chests with our hands on our shoulders and lean back just a little? You know. Word to your mom. I think she has pictures} Pretty cool huh? {It certainly is.}

My two very, very good friends are Angela and Kim. {Sadly, after i wrote this letter to myself, a huge fight erupted in which i lost these two "very, very good friends". They stopped speaking to me aaannndd prevented the rest of the class from speaking to me as well. The second half of 6th grade sucked ass.}

This year the 1992 Winter Olympics are goin' on {i'm hip} in Albertville, France. {yes, they certainly were. i looked it up, just to make sure.} We have about 11 medals. (Cool, huh?) {so cool.}

Well, I better go! {I must have had a lot of absolutely nothing to go get started on. Maybe perfect my Dance Party USA moves; listen to some BelBivDeVoe}

Bye! Talk to ya later!
Claire [full name - including middle name]

And then there are some doodles at the bottom, including a BEST FRIENDS 4 EVER thing that is in Laura's handwriting, also a "Right now I like Philip [full name, including middle initial]" with his name encased in a heart. Phil sat in front of me in all of my classes. Alphabetical order was good to me that year. And lastly, this gem written by Laura: "Oh Yo! Wonder if were still best friends? I really hope so!"

To which i say, "then you shouldn't have fucked me over at Friendly's after we went to see "Fried Green Tomatoes" with Kim and Angela, eh? EH? Perhaps we would still be best friends if you didn't start telling people not to speak to me. That could have been helpful. Is all i'm saying." Meh, doesn't matter. We made up that summer. Kids.


And now this is on the innernets for all the world to see. I am so, so proud.

Monkeys, cocktails and Her Majesty the Queen.

And here's where i apologize AGAIN for being such a stranger.

I'm sorry.

Okay, then.


I've become a bit more adjusted to life on the second floor. It's still unbearably quiet, but at least now i know that it's not just me that thinks this is a totally bizarre business atmosphere. Most of the people up here have commented to me about the sheer, pin-dropping silence i've been experiencing up here, so i've learned to just deal with it and try not to let it effect my neurosis.

Which it is.

But hey, i'm trying.

Also - there have been a few people asking me to e-mail my last post to them, so if you're interested (but really, it's not THAT good) and you don't work for the Overlord (specifically in HR) just let me know and i'll send it along to you. If you don't know what the hell i'm talking about, see here.


Now on to some actual CONTENT:


I don't know if there are still any Brits reading here, and while i suspect not, i'm still going to talk about a TV show that no one here in the US has seen, unless they are illegally pirating it (YARR, YARRR) like we are.
I'm talking about "Britain's Got Talent".
I know. You're saying, "Claire, why in the hell would you want to go through the trouble of downloading a shitty reality talent show when you can watch the one we have right here in America?"

To that i say, "I really have no idea."

Except that it was there, on the internet, and that is pretty much how we watch all of our TV because it's almost better than Tivo. You know, almost.

So, in the queue went "Britain's Got Talent" last week, and then everyday until it was finished. They only aired it for about a week and a half - it was on every single night until they called the winner - and i have to say, it is actually a lot better than the American version. I don't know if it is because there is an actual point to the whole competition (the winner gets to perform for the Queen at the Royal Variety Show (who knew the Queen enjoyed crap variety shows)) or because there is no mention of The Hoff anywhere on it.

My vote goes for No Hoff. Cause he bugs the shit out of me.
Instead, they have Simon Cowell. Obviously.

Why am i talking about this? Good question. I want to share with you, my 3 fine readers, the wonder that is a good Monkey Puppet Act. Never have I enjoyed a Monkey Puppet Act, but this? This is something. Use your speakers:



Brilliant.

And? Damon Scott? Hot.
Yes he is.

He made it to the finals, which i thought was pretty impressive for a Monkey Puppet Act, but was a little touch-and-go during the semi-finals where everyone pretty much told him that the performance he gave was total shit.

To see the look on his face when everyone was telling him he was a loser who probably touched monkeys in an inappropriate manner, was probably the saddest i have ever felt for someone on the TV EVER. I wanted so very badly to just reach through the television (or rather, computer monitor - pirates, remember) and give him a hug. He looked CRUSHED, absolutely CRUSHED. I felt terrible for him. Come to mama... bring the monkey... i'll make it all better..

*Ahem*.

They did give him another chance, which was nice and uplifting. Certainly seemed to make him feel better, which of course made me happy. It was nice to see him smiling again, instead of looking like someone kicked his puppy down the stairs. Or rather, monkey, i guess.
But of course he didn't win. I mean, it's a Monkey Puppet Act, for chrissakes.

Instead, it was opera singer, Paul Potts, who won - and rightly so. He's quite amazing and i'm sure the Queen will love him and whatever. But he didn't have a monkey, so i'm not spending any time talking about him.
No monkey, no press. That's what i say.

If there IS anyone from the UK still reading here, can someone explain to me why the judges thought the bar flair guys were so exciting and "different"? Did they not have the movie "Cocktail" over there? I mean, sure throwing bottles and shit around can be fun to watch, but it's not like its so damn innovative.
"Cocktail", yo. Tom Cruise did it. Like in the 80's. Before he was buttfuck crazy.

Open letter to members of my ex-department (caution, angry):

This post has been removed to protect the innocent me.

Yep, just me.

Shining Star atop a very Small Head

I don't even know what to say anymore. I am stuck waiting some more. More waiting and also again.

I do not have an official start date and i have to wait for my boss's boss to decide when they will be ready "to release me". This person has no great love for me so i am somewhat surprised that he is not jumping at the chance to throw me to another department. But on the other hand, i can see how it would be fun to torture me with this bullshit for just a little bit longer... bastard.

Anyway. I am really excited about starting this new thing and thank you for all of your well-wishes on Monday. However, i am just now starting to feel like maybe I threw myself into something that I'm not really prepared for. I keep hearing the words "challenging" and "make or break" or "throwing you in with your eyes closed". These are not comforting words.

But I'm also being told about being a 'shining star', which is encouraging and also? Freaking nice to hear. Look at that, my new boss might actually believe in me. How F-ING WEIRD.

Ugh.

It will be nice to finally move on and "embrace" my "challenges" or whatever you're supposed to do when you don't know anything about what the hell your job is.

It'll be fun. I'm sure of it.

-------------------

Today i am experiencing Small-Head Syndrome. (I would Google this phrase to see if it is used elsewhere and not my own creation, but I'm at work and i have a feeling that not all of the hits would be PG. All i need is to be fired for surfing p0rn on teh innernets.) I have my hair pulled back into a ponytail, sort of straightened, and for whatever physiological reason it makes me look like i have a small head. As in: not proportionate to my body. Which is kind of weird.

I often notice this phenomena when I'm wearing something kind of bulky - like a sweater - and i have my hair up. It's noticeable. At least i think it is. And for the rest of the day i feel self-conscious about the size of my head.

Is this normal? Am i the only one? Hmm.

Mmm...salad.. gglllrlglgggmmmmhhhggg..

I'm still waiting on the job thing, so I'm not even going to talk about it. I mean, I've heard things. Good things. But i am biting my tongue until i get an Official Offer Letter because i don't trust anyone enough to actually follow through with just a smile and a nod. So. I'm waiting. And this is me not talking about it...





But let me just get out of the way that i am so, So, SO excited to (almost) know that I'm (almost, maybe) working with a great group of people who i can see right now from my window hanging out at the picnic benches chatting and laughing at lunchtime. I want to be a part of that.


Ok, I'm done. Next:

I am starting a new thing. I'm trying out that "jogging" thing that I've heard people talking about. Since a post on Sundry's blog, I've been inspired to get my ass out on the pavement and start moving. This stagnation has gone on way too long and I'm starting to feel like shit about not exercising anymore (or ever). I mean, after quitting the Weight Watchers, i've been really slacking.

So! Exercise! Walking! Eventually, maybe running! Fresh air! Good for me!

To add to that getting off my ass thing, i've gotten myself addicted to those new-fangled chopped salads (which i totally didn't understand when i saw the sign in the bagel place near home. Chopped salads? Like, why?) but wow, they're really good. And i'm not just blowing 'I'm-getting-all-healthy' and 'I-am-so-much-better-than-you-cause-i-gasped-and-snorked-my way-around-the-block' up your ass or anything. They're really good. Mostly because you can throw whatever mixture of total crap into a bowl of lettuce and chop it all up.

Which, honestly, is probably actually not entirely healthy. I feel like i'm doing a good thing for myself by eating salads every day, but it occurs to me that maybe i'm not so healthy after all.

Sure i'm using low-fat salad dressing and it's lettuce for crissakes, but my mix-in choices are probably not so great.

For instance, i like them with pineapple and mandarin oranges.

Yeah. Sugary.

Um, also, dried cranberries. And white raisins.

I totally suck at this diet and exercise thing. How do you make a salad unhealthy? Make it so that its full of sugar*. Smart.

Oh, but so good.


*Also, 'taco salads' accomplish this, too.

Pick ME!

Well, here we go. Tomorrow is the interview.

I've already told the boss and he's fine with my wanting to look for a job. I could tell he was a little surprised, but more so was wondering how the higher-ups are going to fill my place if i actually get the job. He was, in fact, laughing about it. So i guess all is as good as it is going to get.

Tomorrow i sit down with HR and Prospective Manager, but i'm not sure what i am to expect out of this. I don't know if this is the first of multiple interviews or if i just need the one. I'm also not sure if this is going to be a generic HR interview with the "what are your biggest weaknesses" type of questions. I'm kind of hoping that they know me better than needing to ask me things like that, but i'm not sure.

It should be interesting, that's for sure. I kind of have a feeling that the HR chick doesn't like me so much, which is ok because i have enough sense not to like her back. But that kind of good sense isn't going to get me anywhere tomorrow.

So i'm currently brushing up on my "how do you prioritize your work" answers and making sure that my only suit that fits is free of dog hair and just trying to relax for the rest of the night. I am a notoriously bad interviewer and i am hoping that i can be relaxed enough to get through this process successfully and without tripping over my words or i don't know, burping audibly or something sexy like that.

I know that there have been a stack of resumes submitted for this position from the outside world, so that has me reasonably shaken about the situation. I could very potentially not be as qualified as someone who has maybe been doing this for a living for a substantial amount of time. If i don't get this job, it is going to be very awkward going back to my cubicle and looking at my boss everyday while he knows that my heart isn't in it anymore. Not that is has been for quite some time, but hey, at least we didn't all have to talk about it before.

All i can do is put on a smile and tell HR chick about what a model employee i am and hope for the best. All i can ask from you is to send me your positive thoughts at 3:00 EST on Monday. Every little bit helps, eh?

Can you tell i'm stalling?

Today's the day.

I have to tell him today.

But first!
I was just reminded of something to help you to better understand just how non-confrontational i am.

{{{Wayne's World wavy screen flashback transition}}}

I think it was 2001? Probably about 6 years ago, i guess. Imagine that song "It's Been Awhile" by Staind is playing on the radio. I'm pretty sure that song was always playing on the radio that year on at least 3 stations at any given moment. And it's a damn shitty song.

I was getting sick of how my stupid bank worked, what with its "holding periods" and "no online banking" and "nasty, indignant tellers" and decided that i wanted a change and opened up an account at a local credit union. One with all kinds of online banking and nicer people with less attitude and they also were better about not telling me that i couldn't access my money when i wanted it (which really sucks by the way when you are super-poor like me and are maybe making minimum wage, or at least very close to it).

So i opened an account and dropped most of my money in it and all was good. I could look at my money move all day long online and that was so exciting for me, you have no idea. Hey. Sometimes its the simple things that make me happy.

But there was still one thing i had left to do.

I had to quit the bank.*

Every week i said to myself, 'Self? Today is the day we quit the bank'. And then i wouldn't go anywhere near the bank and I'd be all , 'Feh! I was so busy, i didn't have time to quit the bank today!'

And there the account laid open. Open and on the brink of emptiness.

To quit the bank, you have to talk to someone at the bank. You have to tell them that you don't want to be in their bank anymore and that you're leaving their bank. You're breaking up with the bank. And i think by now you know how i feel about that kind of conversation.

Not good. In case you were wondering, it's not good.

Once a month, i would receive my statement and every month, there would be a couple of dollars less in the bank than there was the month before. The account was starting to eat away at itself from starvation and neglect. It would only eat a dollar or two a month, but pretty soon i knew there would be nothing left.

Years went by. I never did quit the bank. Eventually there was only about $12.00 in the bank and they finally sent me a letter telling me they were closing the account due to inactivity. And i said "YES! I don't have to quit the bank! They did it for me."

And that is the story of a girl who is so non-confrontational that she couldn't even close a bank account.


It's probably also because of sheer laziness. But feh. That does not fit the theme of the story.




*I don't know if anyone else would pick this up, but that is a Friends reference. My closet addiction to Friends goes deep. And i would in fact go around saying this; I'm not making up that phrase for your amusement. Because it is not so amusing.

Keep Pork Off Your Fork*

Hrm.

So.

I am still WAITING. Waiting, waiting, waiting........ I have not yet heard back from Prospective Manager about my essay which is FRANKLY DRIVING ME INSANE.

But it's ok. He is out of state for most of the week at another location, so i'm sure he's busy or whatever. Though he did say that he would email me about it. You know, as in, "Maybe, if i get a chance".

Fine! It's ok! Really! I've already gotten the phone call from HR for an "appointment" to "sit down" and "talk" about my "applying for the position" (do the air-quotes with me, people) on Monday. Which is, *awesome*! Wooo! But also means that i have to tell my supervisor before Friday afternoon that i am leaving him for another department.

A sexier, taller department that makes more money and drives a faster car.

I have two days to break the news and i am so not looking forward to it. I am so terribly non-confrontational that even for something that will be so much better for me, is not enough inspiration for me to leap into his office like a ballerina, scattering rose petals behind me with streamers in my hair, and tell him that i am LEAVING.

This should not be so surprising. Especially to the ex-boyfriends out there who may read this. YOU KNOW HOW I AM. I cannot break up with someone for the life of me, and usually keep it going for waaayy too long because i do not want to break up because that is mean (obviously-dur).

This here is nothing more than a professional break-up only with a deadline and i am creeping quickly to that deadline. I am wishing that i was the kind of person that could do this with the leaping and skipping and ribbons in the hair.

But i am not. And i'm currently making lists of things i should say when i sit down with him that do not include:
"FUCK YOU!!!!" or
"..because it totally sucks here" or
"i'll still be here in spirit" or
"if you'd like, i'll stay for a month or two to help out if you need me".

You know.

*Random 'web clip' in my gmail tool bar today. So catchy.

Ahem... - UPDATED

So i started to write that thing. You know the thing? The thing for the job? Yeah. I started it last night and uh.. i have to say it is proving to be more challenging than i anticipated. "Challenging"... yeah.

That's a good word, right? Cause i like "challenges". Really, i do. But, uh... I'm starting to feel a little freaked. As if, perhaps, i was maybe wrong about being able to do this. And that maybe i am not quite so smart as i was pretending to be.

I have until Friday to have it finished and I'm wondering if that's actually enough time. I don't even know quite yet how long it has to be, but i tried making an outline (which, not for nothing, i haven't done in an awful long time and i know its necessary for something like this) and i even had trouble with THAT.

So i started on the first draft, figuring that i could come back and fill in the outline once i get in the groove. Maybe the ideas will come to me once i start actually typing something, you know? But then i got stuck in the first paragraph...

I am seriously freaking right now. And I'm not going to go to Prospective Manager and freak all over him, no of course not - that would be suicide. So I'm doing it here. For all of you. Welcome.

OHMYGOD WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING OH GOD OH GOD OH HELL OH GOD. I CAN'T SERIOUSLY DO THIS FOR A LIVING WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO CONSTRUCT A SENTENCE LET ALONE GET THOUGHTS ON PAPER HOLY FRICKING CHRIST WHAT AM I DOING OH GOD OH HELL OH GOD WHY DOES IT SOUNDS LIKE AN ARTICLE NOW? CAN IT SOUND LIKE AN ARTICLE? I DON'T KNOW!!!! BUT IT DOES AND MAYBE I SHOULD PUT SOME RANDOM HAPPY FACES IN THERE YEAH? NOO!!! STOP IT! AUUGGHHGGGGHHHH!!!

Ok, thank you.

*************************
Update - alrighty. I spoke to Potential New Manager and VERY CALMLY as if nothing was bothering me, asked a few simple questions about what i should be doing and i think i've got it all under control now. whooo! just needed to get a little stress out i guess. Sorry about the complete loss of my mind! Really! Everything is just fine now!

Hello - help me? html question...

It seems like everyone else has been able to figure this out, and i'm feeling a little dumb today.

If i want to post a link on someone's comments and i want it to say a word and not show the actual link address... How do i do that?

For instance, if I wanted to link to oh.. i don't know... that great site, www.leekspin.com

But i want the happy blue words to read "Strangely Addictive Swedish Crap" when you see it in your comments. How do i do that?

Anyone? Bueller?

I know you all know how to do this - i am just a little dumber than you. That's all.

I may be able to start counting those chickens.

After a conversation with Potential New Manager, i was informed that he had a conversation about me with the director of his department. It was nice to hear that the director didn't call me a stupid cow or anything but was perhaps somewhat interested in my wanting the new job. Director, I'm pretty sure, has always liked me so i knew that he wouldn't be much of a hurdle for me. I mean, I've been here for 7 years - these people know me and by now probably know what I'm about and what I'm capable of. At least i would hope so. But even still, it was nice to hear that he wasn't put off by Potential New Manager throwing my name in for the position.

However, I've been given a assignment that i need to complete before applying. He wants to see a writing sample; specifically a technical essay covering any project that i have done while working here. Now, you may be saying, what kind of a dick asks for a homework assignment before you're even allowed to apply for the job?

The answer is, 'the kind of dick that may be hiring you for a Technical Writing job'.

Right.

Also, he wants the essay before i apply so that HR doesn't have to get involved before we know if I'm qualified for the job. Which i am, dammit.

I know, you're probably thinking, "but her grammar sucks and look at all of, the, commas, she, uses. She is so not fit for that kind of job." To which i say, "Fuck you! Innernet Naysayers!" I am SO fit for this job! And you can't tell me any different!"
"But you use conjunctions at the beginning of all of your sentences."

Yeah, well.

....hmph.


I have a lot of work to do, obviously. But i know that i can do this. I just need a good grammar book and I'll be fine. Also, i need to figure out what project I'm going to write about so that i can punch this thing out and get on with the process. Luckily, Potential New Manager said that we would go over my paper before we hand it in to Potential New Director and go over it to make sure that i don't throw myself under the bus, as it were.

So uh... what the hell goes into a technical essay....?

I CAN SO DO THIS JOB SHUT UP.

Chickens and the Eggs From Which They Hatch.

My focus lately has totally been waxing and waning and for a while last week, i was seeing red on a daily basis due to work-crap that i'll most likely not bore you with.

Cause you have your own work-crap that makes you physically exhausted from anger, right?

Right?

You don't need to hear mine because you have your own. Everyone goes through this, right?
Seeing red? Screaming at people? Because of work? No.. probably not everyone.


Feh.

But that's ok, see? Cause things, they may be changing. Maybe. And if they do, i'll be much better off. Because i may or may not be qualified for a new position in another department and how great would it be to get the fuck out of here? SO GREAT! But i'm not a chicken counter, so we're not getting excited about it here.

Even though the hiring manager really likes me and maybe told me that if i want the job, it's pretty much mine. But those chickens - i'm not counting them yet because the position hasn't officially been hatched yet and we're waiting until after the first of April for it to come back from corporate with their official stamp of a "Real, Newly Budgeted Position" so that i can apply. Until that happens, anything can and will most likely go wrong, so i am going to sit here stewing in my own sucky-job-juices until i see it posted to the company's open jobs list and then i will jump up and down on it and scream happy, joyful things.

And then i'll have to interview. Which means i'll have to tell my current boss that i hate him and want to go live with some other people from now on. Over there. Just across the hall.
Someone (be it myself, the interviewer or Human Resources) is obligated to tell the current boss that their employee is looking to jump-ship before they interview somewhere else in the company.

I'm not really sure how to deal with that, you know? It's kind of like telling someone you're going to cheat on them at a specified time and that you may or may not be deemed acceptable by the 'other woman' and if they like you, maybe you'll just go out with them from now on, thank you very much. It just feels dirty. Mostly because my department is not necessarily the type that encourages its employees to learn and grow and wants you to stay in the same spot for ever and ever until you quit because you can't take it anymore.

So i'm at a cross-roads. Obviously i want this new job because not only is it more money, but a better environment in a better department with more upward mobility. Even more importantly, because the title of the position is something that i can take just about ANYWHERE if i decide to leave. The experience i can gain there is priceless and i really need this break.

Now how do i tell my boss that i'm leaving him in a lurch?

I don't know.

Organic living

I did some grocery shopping on Saturday evening (isn't that when all the cool kids do their food shopping? Yeah, i thought so) and i had a rather strange experience.

I was standing behind a woman at the checkout who was taking an awfully long time getting all her stuff out of her cart and bagging and whatever and as i was watching her (cause really, what else can you do when you're not close enough to the magazines?) i was paying attention to what was in her over-flowing cart.

This perfectly shaped woman must have picked one of every single item in the "Organic" section of the supermarket. Everything soy, everything whole-grain, everything organic that they sell at this particular chain and on top of all that, there was a representative of every single fresh green-leafy vegetable in it's individual plastic produce bag. Vegetables i couldn't possibly identify if i had a gun to my head. Honestly, the only one i could name were the beets and that's only because of the red stems. But, see, i couldn't tell if the actual BEET was on the end of those leaves. Do people just buy the tops? I don't know.

And when i say this woman was perfectly-shaped, she was. She had a perfectly clear complexion and you couldn't see any evidence of a stressful life. She looked content. Which is not something that i would think you could see while in the checkout line at the supermarket.

I was totally jealous of this person. With all of her organic trail mixes and soy cheese and fancy-dancy ALL-NATURAL frozen foods but mostly of the leafy-green vegetables. JEALOUS. I wish i could have that kind of discipline or at least good sense.

So as i stood behind her and put the little plastic divider after her stuff; i started to load my crap on the belt behind hers. I purposely picked out the Kashi cereal from my cart and actually faced the box towards her so that she could see it. Then the yogurt, and the single green pepper... oh and then the cookies. Yeah. And probably the Honey Nut Cheerios. Non-organic variety.

Though, i did feel some kind of relief when her bill came to $370.

Eating like nature intended seems to come at quite a price.