Overheating: It's Not Just For Cars (Warning: TMI)

Really. I wasn't kidding about this whole post being TMI. It ain't about cars, and you should skip this post if you have a weak stomach. Consider yourself warned.

On Friday, my entire (all five of us) department went out to lunch. And when I say "out" I mean OUT. We ate outside, in the sunlight. Had I known about this, I would have prepared. I would have brought sunscreen to work. Cowboy invited LEL to sit in the one chair that was in the shade. I somehow managing to avoid acting like a brat and not whine, "But what about MEEEEEEEEE?!" I didn't just sit IN the sun. I sat facing the sun. By the end of the lunch my face hurt from having squinted for an hour and a half. Back at the office I surveyed the damage. Not too bad. My face wasn't that red, and I had a slight burn on my chest (damn v-neck shirts). I didn't feel well, but told myself I couldn't possibly have overheated since it was cool outside.

Oh, how wrong I was. My chest is fucking BURNT. I've slathered on so much aloe that my poor aloe plant looks like it got in a fight with a cactus and lost.

On Saturday I went shopping with a friend at an indoor mall. We bought some big things, so we ran in and out of the mall a couple of times to load goodies in her car. Really bad move on my part. Rule Number One of being someone who overheats easily: Do not go back and forth from cool to warm air multiple times. Malls are always slightly too warm for me.

We ate lunch in the mall. After lunch I wasn't feeling very well, but figured I'd be good long enough that I could get home, take some Advil, and be fine in a half hour.

Oh, how wrong I was. When we got to Target I yanked off my jacket. I even told my friend I thought I was overheating. By the time she dropped me at the train station, I was wondering if I should force myself to throw up before getting onto a train.

When I overheat or get motion sickness, I follow a formula: overheat, get a headache, headache turns to migraine, feel like shit, cry, eventually throw up, pass out, sleep, wake up fresh as a daisy. Really. Every damn time. A friend recently asked me if I throw up a lot, and I told her no, but I used to get carsick, so I'm a pro. I wasn't lying. I'm really good at throwing up. I can throw up in a car moving 60 miles an hour without getting my clothes messy. I can throw up into my garbage pail while lying in my bed. Which reminds me. Dad, thanks for throwing out my garbage that time.

The train came and I decided to get on it. My ride was almost an hour long. At the first stop I changed seats so I would be sitting facing the direction the train was going. Facing backwards was just making things worse. Then the sun was in my eyes. I felt myself getting warmer, and at the next stop changed seats again to get out of the sun. Why do trains rock from side to side a little bit if they're moving forwards? At the next stop I considered running off the train to throw up into a trash can. But I wasn't sure I would make it back onto the train before it started moving again.

Somehow I made it to my stop. God must have noticed how badly I was feeling because all the escalators were working in my favor. I actually considered getting a cab to take me home. I truly wasn't sure I could walk the two blocks. Somehow I did.

Came home, threw up. Waited to feel better. It didn't come. What the fuck? Where's my FEEL BETTER???? I went to sleep. Woke up around 10 p.m. Threw up two more times. There's my feel better. Woke up around 5 a.m., fresh as a daisy. And I've been up ever since. I would like to stop being so sensitive, but I'm almost 30 and don't think that's something I can change. So, I really need to start being more sensitive to my sensitivities so I won't have to waste entire Saturday nights being sick. Because I have things to do on Saturday nights. You know, like my laundry.

If You Don't Feel Well, Just Go To the Doctor

What's the saying? "Nothing simple is ever easy"? I don't really do doctors. I used to. I encourage others to use them. I understand the concept. I just ... have some trust issues. And some taking-time-off-from-work issues. And some getting-lost-going-to-new-places-by-myself issues. Not to mention the going-to-the-doctor-by-myself issue. So I tend not to go. Paper cut that turned into a staph infection, you say? Ehh, fuck it. I don't need that hand anyway; I'm a lefty.

I've been sick lately. Really sick. Not so sick that I've missed work, but sick enough that I broke out the health insurance card and tried to figure out how the hell to use it. It's not fucking easy! First of all, there are TWO companies listed on the card. Second of all, there's a lot of waiting on hold involved, which is not easy when you're at work, trying to actually work.

Got to say though, that everyone I spoke with was very nice, very calm, and genuinely tried to help. In turn I thanked everyone for their help, tried to not cry (though I did tell one person I was going to), didn't yell, and apologized the two times I got a bit bitchy.

First I tried to find a doctor on the website, with some help from my dad. And by "help" I think we all know I mean "pretty much just doing it all for me and then e-mailing me the links." I wanted to see someone before the week ended. I knew that was a bit unrealistic but I didn't want to wait around just getting sicker. I'm pretty picky about doctors. I want someone for whom English is a first language. The last thing I need is miscommunication regarding my own health. I want someone who went to a good medical school and did their residency somewhere I've heard of. I want someone who's either very close to where I live/work or at the very least, easy to get to. I want someone old enough that they've got several years of experience under their doctor's coat, yet young enough that they're not solely relying on their own previous experience and still keeping up to date with new developments, medications, medical procedures. I may have failed biology and not understand the answers, but I shock everyone (including myself) with the medical questions I can pull out of my ass that are intelligent.

Apparently my health insurance works with doctors, not entire doctor groups. When I was calling the doctor's offices and asking who could see me on Thursday or Friday, it wouldn't be the doctor my health insurance listed, but another one. Or that doctor would be in the Sacramento office. Or they were listed as specializing in Internal Medicine but really deal only with Oncology. So I kept looking.

Three friends all suggested the same urgent care clinic that's affiliated with a school. It's much further away from where I live/work than I wanted to go. But I could walk in. I wouldn't have to miss work. I spent over four hours on Thursday and Friday calling the clinic and my insurance company trying to get confirmation that a visit would be covered. The clinic was telling me that seeing a doctor could cost between $300 - $600, depending on what tests the doctor would order. My deductible is $250. One of the three friends invited me to dinner Thursday night, where she told me it would be a flat fee of $60. I went back to my phone calls and finally my insurance company told me there might be a loophole. They instructed me to call the clinic back and find out what code they would bill the office visit under. Apparently not billing as urgent care but as a regular doctor's office makes all the difference. Loopholes RULE!

Friday night I went off to the clinic after work. It is on a campus that I've never been to. My directions were vague after the "get off the bus here" part. I asked for directions at two different spots and both people were friendly and helpful. I got to the clinic and the receptionist had such a gentle demeanor. There were signs all over the place about turning off cell phones, and I think I endeared myself to her when she saw me turning mine off.

I sat and waited for a little over a half hour, reading my magazine I'd brought. The doctor called me in and asked what he could do for me. We talked about symptoms and I told him I'd like to get some prescriptions for old medications. He said he'd only give me one refill. Like a good father, he told me I really ought to get a primary care physician. I know. He asked why I don't have one. Ummmm.... yeah, anyway. He checked my chest, throat and ears, talked to me, and decided I have an upper respiratory infection. I got told to use the inhaler he wisely didn't ask how I came to acquire*, and he wrote a script for a strong decongestant. We had a chat about how it's viral as opposed to bacterial and that's why he wasn't going to prescribe antibiotics.

"Am I contagious?"
"Mildly. Cover your mouth when you cough and wash your hands a lot."

The receptionist told me to feel better and try to have a relaxing weekend. I honestly would not have been surprised it she'd told me to "chillax." I walked out and managed to make my way to the bus stop without getting lost, and the bus pulled right up as if it had been waiting down the corner for me.

Cost? $15 co-pay, plus co-pays for the prescriptions. Of course on Saturday morning when I tried to fill the prescriptions, Walgreens couldn't read what two of them said, and the doctor hadn't specified how many days I was supposed to take the decongestant. So after spending a half hour wandering around Walgreens I left with no drugs. But it was my first time dealing with a Walgreens pharmacy and they were very nice about it. They were going to fax my prescriptions back to the clinic for someone to decipher and are aiming to have them filled today.

*I am very comfortable with any level of health insurance fraud I may or may not have committed.

Forgive Me Society, For I Have Sinned

Tonight is exactly one week since I last went to Walmart.

Last Friday night my friend called to say that she wanted to hang out with me, but needed to pick something up for her husband and did I want to keep her company. It would mean going to Walmart. She was quick to tell me that it was the only place she could get what he needed, and it was for the following early morning. I'm always more than happy to run errands with people - I care far more about the people I'm spending time with than the activity I'm doing with them.

So I sold my soul to the devil and off we went. I hadn't been in a Walmart since I lived in Florida. There had been one down the block from me, right across the street from Target. My boycotting Walmart started off slowly.

It was easier to park at Target.
Target had a better card selection.
It was easier to find Target employees who could help than Walmart employees who could.
It wasn't overwhelmingly huge.

After two or three trips to Walmart I stopped going there altogether. I started reading about the lack of benefits Walmart employees were getting, among other things. How lucky to have Target right across the street, making my decision so easy! But then Target stopped carrying the boxes I was always buying. So I crossed the street. But just to buy the boxes. Nothing else. Then I'd go to Target for the packing tape and cards. When I moved to San Francisco it was simple to avoid Walmart. There are none in the city. Of course, there's also no Target in the city either.

So last Friday night when I was welcomed to Walmart, it had been almost two years since I'd been in one. It was huge. Not in a "look at all the possibilities! look how convenient it would be to come here and get everything I might need, from food shopping to banking to pliers to a dresser to a football!" More in a "It's huge, I'm overwhelmed and want to leave and it's going to be a bitch finding what we need and is it me or does everything feel cheap here?" kind of way.

My friend needed a specific type of fishing license. She'd called ahead of time and was told:

A. Walmart would be open until 11 p.m.
B. The specific Walmart we were going to would have what she needed.

We found the department we needed. It was empty. We couldn't find any Walmart employees. My friend made herself at home by helping herself to the paging system, and repeatedly paged someone to the desk we were waiting at. I started wandering around, looking for a Walmart employee who could help us.

"Excuse me, do you know if anyone is manning that desk?"
"We're closing." Not for an hour you're not.
"I know, but we'll be quick if we could just get some help."
"I don't work in that department."
"Could you find someone who does? We need a fishing license."

"Excuse me, could you help us at the Sports and Fitness Department?"
"Huh?"
"My friend and I need help. Would you help us please?"
"Oh, I no speak English."
"Oh. Could you find someone who does?"
"Sorry" and she just wandered off.

For the locals who are wondering, we were in Oakland. I tried again with another guy wearing a blue vest.

"Excuse me, could you help me? My friend is trying to get a fishing license."
"A what now?"
"A fishing license. At the sporting desk?"
"I don't do that. I clean the store. But I'll see if I can find someone."
"Thank you!"
"If you haven't been helped by the next time I come around, I'll page someone for you."
"Thanks so much."

I found a woman in a blue vest next. She was very peppy in what I can only describe as a tweaky way. My friend, who knows such things after her time in Vegas, later told me that woman had meth mouth. I didn't care what kind of mouth she had; she was finally helping us. There were no fishing licenses behind the counter. We had to go up front. We had to wait in a line that didn't move. A cute baby on a tricycle ran over my foot. I looked around and saw no adult looking like they'd lost a kid. A little fat boy pushed me out of his way to get to the impulse candy. We continued waiting in line.

Finally a manager came over and after a few discussions it was established that while Walmart could sell us the fishing license, they didn't have the stamps that my friend's husband also needed. The manager suggested we go to some other Walmart a few exits away. We were not pleased. We asked if she could call the other Walmart and confirm they had what we needed. She said she would, walked away, and came back with the phone number for the other Walmart. We finally stepped out of The Line That Never Moved, after a solid 20 minutes of waiting in it. I called the other Walmart from the first Walmart. I got hung up on. Called back. Got put on hold indefinitely. Called back. Got a live person, asked to speak with a manager, got told they were all in a meeting. Explained what I needed, got put on indefinite hold again. Called back, told them I was calling from the other Walmart.

"Are you a Walmart Associate?"
"Yes I am, and we have a customer here who needs a fishing license."
At this point I wasn't even listening to the excuses anymore. I had run out of patience. The Walmart we were standing in was closing.

My friend and I went back to the nice manager, she turned on her Southern charm, and told Nice Manager we couldn't confirm whether the 24-hour Walmart she'd referred us to had the fishing license. My friend apologized to me multiple times. She drew me a rainbow and a unicorn to help pass the time. The manager picked up the phone and called the other Walmart for us, while she helped some dad of a skater boy with his DVD issue. I looked at Skater Boy and very quietly whispered to my friend that it looked like he'd had a nasty skating accident, judging by the scab on his elbow. Literally the second the words left my mouth, his hand wandered up to touch his elbow. He could not have heard me. Even a dog wouldn't have been able to hear me. Skater Boy's skater friend was twirling around on a chair while throwing a ball.

I was so bored and so tired of standing around. The manager who'd taken up our cause was on indefinite hold. She yelled at Meth Mouth to walk the store and get customers to stop shopping and go check out. She continued helping Skater Boy's dad. Finally she told us the other Walmart had lost all their fishing licenses. My friend borrowed my cell phone to call her husband and see what he wanted. Get the license without the stamps. So we did.

Hopefully I won't be back to Walmart in another two years.

It Really WAS A Happy Administrative Professional's Day!

1. Cat Lady and LEL are in a fight and not talking. Apparently LEL said something mean to Cat Lady, who now refuses to talk with her.

2. Overheard at work by two people talking about their respective cats: "... when I stick a thermometer up her ass, she purrs."

James Frey

I finished reading My Friend Leonard yesterday. The story is pretty good. Not best-seller good in my opinion, but good. As long as you can get past the writing, that is.

This morning I went to work. I put my key-card in my desk drawer I notice the flower my boss gave me has died My dog is dead tears stream down my face.

I kind of felt like I was on speed reading the book. I kind of felt like at times Frey sat there and said to himself, "Now what else does this book need to make it huge? Death? Mob? Sex? What haven't I touched on yet?"

Any time I talk with people about either book, they wind up asking me how I feel about the fact that Frey lied about his life. Here's the answer:

I don't give a shit. It doesn't affect my life at all. I borrowed both his books from a friend, so I don't have to figure out if I'm upset that I contributed to a liar. I didn't read either book right when they came out. I heard and read all about the big Oprah scandal.

Here's what was rolling around my mind: whose life is so damn fascinating that it fills TWO books, both of which get on the best-seller list? Only someone who led a fake life. Or a life that was made famous before the books came out. Did I know he was making most of it up before Snopes told us? No, of course not. But when something sounds too good/too fascinating/too whatever to be true...

Would I recommend the James Frey books? Sure. Try to read them. If you don't hate the style of writing you may dig the story.

Farmer's Market Disappoints

Since a couple of months after moving to San Francisco I've been going to the Farmer's Market every Saturday morning. I get a crepe, walk around sampling things, buy some other things, it's my thing. I look forward to it all week.

So you can imagine how bummed I've been the last few weeks when the crepe stand hasn't been there. Each week I thought it was because of the rain. Today the sun was shining through the clouds, but the crepe stand was still missing. There's an information booth and I went and asked where they were. Last summer they were missing for a couple of weeks, and it was just that part of the booth had been ruined. It eventually got fixed, and they came back.

Today the news from the information booth was not as good. The crepe stand has gone out of business. I'm so sad. So lost. So happy this is my current biggest problem in life. Sure, I can get crepes other places. Even better tasting crepes. Even crepes that aren't served on a paper plate. But it's not just the crepe. It's the routine of it that I'm missing. I feel weird going around to the other stands at the Farmer's Market without having the taste of Nutella lingering in my mouth. It's nice to go somewhere and have someone look at you, smile, and just start preparing your food, because they know what you like.

Maybe it's time to start exploring other Farmer's Markets?

I Can Be Spontaneous...

if you give me a half hour to think about it first.

A friend flew into town yesterday. She and I had already made plans regarding when we were hanging out (later in the week). So, yesterday I started to do my usual things. I came home from work, met up with my walking buddy for our evening stroll, went home and started dinner. At 8 p.m., just as I was about to start eating, my cell phone rang.

My friend was all settled in at her hotel, and wanted to come pick me up and go somewhere. Do something (insert your own Andrew Shue joke here). My hot dinner looked at me like, "Are you KIDDING me? NOW?" I was not prepared to go out. I sat there stuttering to my friend, not quite sure what I was trying to say. Of course I wanted to see her. Of course I did. But. I was tired, I was hungry, I am me and I don't go out at night. Plus, I had NO CLUE where the hell to go. I only know how to get to work, the library and the grocery store in this city anyway.

We agreed she'd call me back in a half hour. I ate dinner and thought. By the time she called back I was ready. "Come over, I have ideas." She came over. How I restrained myself from skipping through the lobby of my building on the way out to her rental car (not that I was excited or anything) is beyond me. We're such good friends that I told her that right away. I presented my ideas, she picked one, we pulled an illegal U-turn and drove off into the night.

Where we wound up parked a block from a mutual friend's house. "Can you come out and play? Right now? I'm a block from your house and have a surprise." And that's how the three of us wound up going to a fancy steakhouse for drinks and dessert. We drank (yes, even me - I tasted a sip of ... something pink and girly that was disgusting) and talked and perhaps we locked some busboys out as retaliation for not closing a door when they were asked? It wasn't crowded when we walked in, but we were the last ones to walk out.

Then, because it was after 11 p.m., there was work to think about today, and I'm not 29, but 79, I was driven home and then the two of them went out for more drinks.

See? I can have a spontaneous night out. I just need a little warning.

Steamroller Update

The formerly missing mug has appeared on the kitchen counter. Apparently baby steps are the way we roll in this home.

It's Gonna Be the Bestest Birthday EVER!

A friend's 30th birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. This morning she sent me an e-mail telling me that as a present her mother is giving her two tickets to a play she wants to see, and "Would you care to accompany me?" I am choosing to believe she got so formal in inviting me because she was nervous I would say no. Silly girl - a free ticket to a play? HELL YEAH!

Several hours later, another friend contacted me about Friend #1 confirming that we're still taking her out for her birthday. We're going to a fancy restaurant for dinner that I've been to before and like a lot. The three of us have never hung out together (outside of the file room at work which doesn't count), but I'm sure it's going to be a lot of fun.

I'm so fucking excited for not-my-birthday!

Scary

In a little under two months, it will be eleven years since I had a spinal tap. It forced me to learn a lot about myself, pain, managing pain, and about what I call "memory pain." I needed a spinal tap because something was very wrong with my body, something that ultimately left me unable to walk for a while in 1995.

Since that time I've had arthritis from the middle of my back down through my ankles. Even though ever since I got better I've never missed a day of work, the arthritis still makes sure I never forget it's there. Hello! Usually I just ignore the pain. I never take anything stronger than Advil, and that's only at night so I can sleep. Occasionally, I will take a bus somewhere instead of walking. Oh, and I don't run. Ever. Well okay, about once a year I run just to make sure I still can.

For the last two days, when I've woken up it's been really hard to move. I seriously feel like my back is going to break. I'm pretty sure it's not, but it's still scary to feel that. To not be able to count on my body to hold me up while I do simple things like wash my hands or face and brush my teeth. The only thing that makes me feel better is stretching my back out, by laying in the exact same position I had to be in for the spinal tap. Obviously nobody is going to sneak up behind me and shove a needle in my back to extract the precious spinal fluid between my vertebrae, but I'm still slightly uncomfortable about that. Something about the vulnerability.

I have no ending for this, except to say if you ever need a spinal tap, contact me and we'll talk about it.

Nothingisms

Ain't got much to say. Been feeling kind of blah lately. I think the rainy weather has taken a toll on me.

- My taxes were done closer to the deadline this year than all prior years. I am now happily expecting my refund.

- Starbucks gets to not be called Starfucks, at least for now. Yesterday I went in to read my book and have a hot chocolate. I had put the exact amount of money I needed in my pocket. Somehow, when I arrived at the register to pay, my dime was gone. No clue how that happened - there's no hole in my pocket and I distinctly recall taking the dime from my change glass. So I told the cashier I live right across the street, was a dime short and would be right back with it. This is what she said in response:

How about if this hot chocolate is on us, since my register is already locked? Don't worry about it.

So I put the two dollars I hadn't lost in the tip jar, and thanked her profusely.

- Lately I've been thinking a lot about money. I grew up worrying about money. As a kid I asked for maybe a third of the things I wanted, and got maybe half of what I asked for. We weren't poor. But we weren't rich. There is a picture I have somewhere, of $15.00, laid out all prettily, on my old blanket that was white, with pink and green flowers. Now I can't remember what I did to earn it, but at the time it was the most money I'd ever earned, and I was in awe. I can only think of one vacation I ever took where I paid for more than simply the airfare to get to the family member. This past week I sent my financial advisor (don't be impressed, he's a family friend) $4,000 to be put in my Roth IRA for 2005. Better late than never, right? I was very hesitant to do this at all. My usual thinking is to save as much liquid money as possible, for when I inevitably get fired and have to live off my savings and credit until I get a new job. So to send away so much of my savings is scary. But you know what? I'm doing okay. I'm earning a great salary for my profession, and I'm pretty sure my bosses know I'm trying hard at work and think I'm doing a good enough job that I'm not about to get fired. Let's all take a moment to pray that I'm right.

- The movie about United Flight 93 - I can't decide if I want to see it or not. The bottom line is that I *KNOW* I will cry, and I hate crying in public. They should just hand out tissues with the tickets they sell. Perhaps if they were donating all the proceeds to the remaining family members affected, I would feel better about spending money on this movie.

- Speaking of tissues, I got a VERY cool box of Kleenex at Target last week. I would have posted a pic for you, but I can't find one online. Suffice it to say, it's not your typical Kleenex box, and I like it a lot.

- Steamroller put a pair of blue scissors on the kitchen counter at some point yesterday. My old scissors were orange. Mug has still not appeared in the kitchen, and my rubix cube has flown the living room coop.

- Living in San Francisco, a girl really needs a jacket with a hood. No getting around it - umbrellas are great but simply not enough. The only one I have is not appropriate for work. I ordered and received a jacket with a hood from LL Bean, but am thinking of sending it back. It's as thin as Saran Wrap. So tomorrow I'll order a different one from Eddie Bauer in the hopes it'll be warmer and more substantial than the LL Bean one.

- Intervention is not on Bravo tonight. I am bummed. However, CSI is featuring an episode that stars the little boy who played the son in the movie Stepmom, with Susan Sarandon and Julia Roberts.

- When I found out my parents had been told about my blog, I was at a specific supermarket. It's the closest and easiest one to get to that has everything I need (most of the time). The two Safeways near me are satellite stores and often don't carry the flavor of yogurt I want, or the brand of paper towels I like, or have any of whatever I need. So I go over to the big Safeway. But now every time I go there I throw up a little in my mouth, remembering that phone call that made me feel like my world was falling out from under me (I think of it as "the day my blog exploded" even though the words don't exactly make sense). And now every time I walk by the restaurant across from the Safeway where I stood in the street crying, bags of food at my feet, I get a little teary. It makes me think maybe I should find a new Safeway.

Dear Steamroller

In no particular order, here are the things you currently do that annoy me:

1. You've taken one of my mugs. This would be no big deal if you wanted to borrow a mug to have a drink and then washed it and put it away. But I told you when we first met that I am anal. I know I'm petty, it's just a mug, I have others, but you know what? I haven't changed, and I want my fucking mug back. It's just sitting on your desk, where it's been for over a month now. Why can't you just put it in the dishwasher?

2. Where are my scissors that are kept on the kitchen counter? And why, when I asked if you'd seen them tonight when I needed to use them, did you go look in your BATHROOM? These are scissors I use to cut open packages of food sometimes. They should NEVER be in the bathroom. Now I know that I said "It's okay, I'll just use a steak knife" tonight, but please do not be fooled. That did not mean you don't need to find my scissors. You do. And you need to clean them before you put them back. On second thought, just buy me a new pair, okay? Keep the old ones.

3. Stop cooking things and never cleaning up from them. I'm weird - I don't like to wait and see how long you have to leave things out in order to attact bugs. It's why I clean up from cooking the same day I cook. It's why I use Clorox Wipes. You could, too - they're right under the sink, all convenient-like. When you cook those ... crockpotty looking things that smell good, and they spill all over the fridge, counters, stove and floor, you have to clean all that up. If you clean it up soon after the spill with Clorox Wipes, or even wet paper towel, it won't be hard to do at all. Really. Know how I know? Because I clean up after you all the fucking time!!

4. The paper towel issue. I asked you like five months ago to buy another roll, once I figured out you were using so much of it. I think that's reasonable. Do you not? If you don't, that's okay - we can talk about it and come to some sort of agreement. But what I see happening is that we both use, but only I buy, and that's not cool. And you don't even throw out the empty paper towel roll - you just leave it sitting there.

5. High-speed internet. Originally, you'd said you'd take care of setting up high-speed internet for both of us, and we'd split the cost. Somehow you managed to set it up for yourself, but couldn't get it set up for me. So here I sit, on dial-up. And even though I've tasted faster internet, I'm okay with this. Really. But I'm not cool with the fact that it's $45.00. You've got to pay that, ALL of that, since I'm not using it.

6. The slamming of the doors. We all have tempers; I understand this. I've been known to slam a door or cabinet in my day too. But you slam doors as your primary way of closing them, and that's not working for me. Especially since you keep ... for lack of a better phrase, Bouncer Hours. I try to be in bed by 11 p.m. every night. When you come home at 2 or 3 a.m., please take care to NOT slam doors. I know it's my own issue that I'm a light sleeper, and I wake up when someone in Jersey coughs, but your door-slamming habit is VERY loud. Please, think of those who are sleeping. Perhaps you are bitter that you are working late and I'm not. That's your own issue to get over by yourself.

7. In addition to the door-slamming, and the late-night noise-making, there's Mr. Steamroller. Normally a quiet boyfriend, but you often seem to forget he's coming over. He knocks on the door around 1 a.m., over and over. The sound wakes me up, but I'm in that half asleep state, where I'm aware of what's going on, but too tired to move or speak. Let the boy in, so he'll stop making so much noise.

8. Why do you keep losing your keys? Why do you keep locking yourself out? There is nothing I can do for you when you call me on my cell phone and I'm out of the house. Remember that time you got all attitudey on me because I laughed when you asked me to come home to let you in? I was on a ferry on my way to Tiberon. If I were across the street, or even down the block, that'd be one thing. But I was kind of far away to turn around and come home. Especially since you do this about twice a month. Especially since you can just pay the Stupid Fine, and have Security let you in.

9. Garbage. Emptying it. Why don't you? Why, twice a week, do I find myself emptying the garbage that you created? Oh yeah, it's because I hate having bags of garbage two feet from the front door, just sitting there, stinking up the apartment. Emptying the garbage should be something we BOTH do. Hell, even Mr. Steamroller should be doing it sometimes, since he's here any time you're here.

Now, I know I'm not perfect. And I also know I'm a bit anal about cleanliness. But you knew this. I said it in my roommate ad and everything, and then stressed it to you when we met.

So please, get on track with this shit. We're going to have a talk very soon about some of these issues (I won't bother with 1, 2, 4, 7, and 8). If you could pull your shit together roommate-wise in the very near future, I'd greatly appreciate it.

Fuck you very much,
Green

How Old Are You?

I am 29. I work for two guys. One is in his 40's and the other is in his late 30's. One of the baby attorneys LEL works for is TWENTY SEVEN YEARS OLD. That would be two years younger than I am. That would be 80 years younger than LEL.

A grandma down the hall is secretary to an attorney who is one year younger than I am. This attorney is married. People younger than I am are married. That seems so bizarre to me. I know that really, it's just because I don't feel nearly mature enough for something as hugely serious as marriage. I watch Punk'd, I eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I still wear the sweatshirts I got in 1994...

Obviously LEL and I don't have a warm, fuzzy relationship that encourages me to have a chat with her over lunch about how she feels, working for someone younger than she is. But I'd love to know.

Because to be honest, it would make me VERY uncomfortable. It's okay that I'm secretary to someone older than I am. But for someone younger than me to be more successful? That fucks with my mind.

Kind of the same way it fucks with my mind to see someone famous (in the good way, not in the Lohan way) who is not yet 21. How did they get there, and I'm ... just... here? What the hell have I been doing with my life?

And really, if one part of my life was just ehh, like the professional part, but personally, I was happily married and had a kid or something, that'd be fine with me. Or, if I'd done something impressive with all this time I didn't spend in school becoming a lawyer (or anything), like traveled around the world, or ... anything, I wouldn't feel this way (I assume).

But today, it's just bumming me out that people younger than I am have gotten further than I have. I imagine this will get worse the day my doctor is younger than me.

Monday, Monday (nah, nah...)

I love my job. But LEL is frustrating the hell out of me. After the two of us having three little talks, I decided they weren't "sticking" and I went to HR. HR agreed with me that she was behaving inappropriately, and spoke with her the following day. LEL changed her tune. For two weeks. Those two weeks are over, and she is back to her annoying ways.

- Spraying perfume (about half a dozen spritzes) twice a day
- Telling me not to go in Cowboy's office, but instead, to go to her (never mind that Cowboy has asked me to come talk with him, or leave something in his Inbox for him)
- Telling me not to put files in the file cabinet when I'm finished with them, because she wants to go through them first to make sure I haven't messed them up (whatever, less work for me)
- Interrupting me when I'm talking with Tunafish or Nice Partner about work to ask them about t.v. shows or something else equally unimportant
- Stage-whispering to Cat Lady about other people
- Talking louder than stupid people speak when they're talking to blind people
- Using the typewriter we share but leaving the wires out in such a way that invites people to trip over them (no, I have not tripped)
- Telling her Baby Attorneys she doesn't know how to do things for them and making a big fuss about running all over asking people how to do things like Proofs of Service (very simple - we even have a form), ignoring the fact that I taught her how to do it.

On my mean days I feel like just ignoring her all day, every day. Literally pretending she's not there at all. However, I have other days where I want to be better than that, and do what's in the best interests of the firm. I like all the people she works with, and am totally happy to help them. If I ignore LEL, that indirectly hurts those people, which I don't want to do.

I have not yet figured out how to reconcile these opposing feelings. Going to HR was a huge thing for me - I am not comfortable doing it again. Not only because of the "telling on" someone aspect, but also because I don't want to be seen as a trouble-maker, and because I'm scared they would move me, which I don't want.

This morning I walked into work with Tunafish. LEL and Cat Lady were talking, and I threw a "Good morning!" out. LEL looks up, looks right past me, and says, "Good morning Tuna!" Oy to the vey.

Another One Bites the Dust

(which was my absolute favorite song when I was about four years old)

Recently a friend got upset about how some shit was going down and told me via e-mail that she didn't want to be friends with me anymore. My heart sank. This person is one of my favorite SF friends, and I was crushed.

I didn't really have friends growing up. When I was a kid, I was asked by an adult if I knew what a friend was, if I could define the word "friend." I couldn't, beyond "someone who likes you." So the adult ran down a list of signs that let you know if someone is your friend. The list was long, and although I don't recall it anymore, I do recall thinking "Well nobody will ever want to do all that stuff with me. I'm doomed to never have any friends."

It's taken a long time, but I have solid friends here. I'm actually often pleasantly surprised when I realize people like me. So being in San Francisco and having friends is weird. A good weird for sure, but still weird.

When this person said she didn't want to be friends anymore, although I was crushed, I was not surprised. Throughout my life I've had a pattern of people liking me at first, then I fuck up somehow, and then they hate me. Just like every day I walk into work prepared to be fired, I go through life prepared to find out people now hate me. In the past, I always pretty much accepted it when I realized a person was "done with this guy!" But this time I realized I had a choice. I could ... argue my case, if you will. I could fight for the friendship, and to keep the friend. I sat there reading and re-reading the e-mail, and realizing I could just go quietly into the night, or fight for something I valued.

I apologized for my part in why she was upset, and kept talking. The friend ultimately apologized to ME, and we're all good now, swapping snacks at lunchtime and choosing each other first at gym like nothing ever happened.

There's something deeper here, something about fighting for what you value, placing value on things in your life, but I haven't quite sorted all that out yet. Another day, another blog post.

What? I Know Shit

Yesterday a friend at work was telling me about how she badly burned her arm getting something out of the oven, and she's worried about her tattoo.

It's a tattoo of a turtle, and another coworker saw the scab and asked "Oh! You're getting the turtle's back filled in with different colors?" Uhhh, no, Peg.

Without even thinking, I said to her, "Well, let me know if you need any touch-up work done; I know a really great tattoo artist." She looked at me for a second before laughing hysterically.

"What?! I can know tattoo artists!"

My friend wiped the tears from her eyes and agreed with me. "It's really just the last thing I ever thought would come out of your mouth. Of all the people here."

It's Tough Work

But somebody’s gotta be chosen

The Day the Music Died

Last holiday season, I got the coolest present. It was a cd/alarm clock radio and I'd wanted something like that for over a decade. Basically ever since I got my first CD. The idea of waking up to whatever song I wanted to sounded like my idea of heaven. So when I got this for a present I immediately set it up, read the directions, fired up a CD, and was using it by the next morning. Loved it. Woke up every morning with a smile on my face.

I didn't even care that it was huge and took up TONS of space on my nighttable. I didn't even care that the LED display was SUPER BRIGHT, too bright, as if it'd gone to the dentist for professional LED brightening and slipped the technician some extra money to make the digits extra bright, and it kept me up at night. Waking up to my mix CDs each morning was totally worth it.

It stopped working. The alarm simply doesn't turn on anymore. When I try to play a CD it won't play. I'm crushed.

I was in denial about this all last week. Never mind that I was waking up at 5 a.m. each morning, because I was scared I'd oversleep and be late to work. I didn't care about that. I had turned off my alarm so that it wouldn't fail me by not going off when it was supposed to. Over the weekend I realized this was ridiculous. As someone who is forever having sleep problems, it's stupid to force myself to wake up earlier than I need to.

So last night I unplugged the broken CD alarm clock. I plugged back in my old, purple, Bed, Bath & Beyond alarm clock and set it for 7:30 a.m. I told myself to let my mind sleep, secure in the knowledge that Old Purple would not let me down this morning. Apparently my mind has trust issues, because I woke up at 7:01 a.m.

Sure was nice while it lasted.

Help?

Wouldn't it be great if I had an assistant? They could write the checks to pay my bills for me. They could prepare my meals for me. Laundry? Why thank you! Oh, ironing too, you say? Fabulous! Perhaps some days they could even go to work for me. They could organize all the papers I seem to find in my room. Remind me to make phone calls I always manage to forget.

Perhaps they could even have a little "chat" with my enemy Weather, who seemed to think it was acceptable to rain today.

I managed to change all the clocks this morning, get food shopping and laundry done, even cook dinner and bake some banana bread. So maybe I don't *need* an assistant. Sure would be nice to have one though.

Fuck You, Weather (A Rant, In Case You Weren't Sure)

March is such a fucking bitch. There were 31 days in March. It rained for 25 of them. March is such a long month. We're so spoiled by Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, MLK Jr., Day, President's Day. Then there's March - all long and boring with no holidays. March sucks bigtime and I've always hated it. Thank goodness it's over. However, March seems to be friends with April, and April is seeming pretty bitchy so far also.

Yesterday rained. Yesterday told me Today was just supposed to be cloudy but not rainy but Yesterday lied (must be friends with March). Today it's raining. Everything I'm reading tells me it's supposed to rain tomorrow and Monday also.

I'm not pleased. San Francisco is such a great place to live, in part because of all the fun things to do outside. How much time can be spent outside when it's raining? My hair can only take so much of this. And what about all the mudslides? People's homes are being ruined! April, if you fuck up all the fruits I like to buy in the late Spring/early Summer at the Farmer's Market with too much rain, I'm going to be Very. Very. Angry. STOP THE MADNESS!

This isn't even a good movie season. All that's out now are stupid horror movies. Why do all the good movies come out in the summertime and near Thanksgiving / Christmas? They should save some to release in March, to help us out with indoor activities. A jewish girl from New York can only go waste an afternoon at the mall so many times before .... she has to go check out a new mall? MOVIES, people!

April, perhaps you didn't get the memo about what we're expecting from you. You haven't gotten off to the best start. But you have the whole month in front of you to turn things around. I have faith you can do it. I know, I know, April showers... But you know what, April? We've had enough rain in March to get the May flowers. So thanks, but no need. Now just be a good little month, we have Passover and Easter to help, and stop fucking raining.

Thanks,
Green, She of Frizzy Hair