So Little Time, So Much To Bitch About and Share

1. E-mails - to everyone I send e-mails to, I'm sorry. There's something wrong with my e-mail program that causes a question mark to be inserted at the end of every sentence. Remember on Party of Five when Charlie went to a parent-teacher conference at Owen's school and he accidentally made fun of the teacher who claimed she had "upspeak"? Yeah, I don't have that. I'm really not that indecisive.

2. (Not) Dancing With the Stars - no shock that Josie went home. But can we just discuss how much I hate fluff shows like tonight's was? Just bang out the results in the first segment, break for commercial, and then just bring out Dolly Parton's boobs and Savion Glover for the rest of the show. Stop talking so fucking much! NOBODY cares what that dork is talking about!

3. Customer Service - I'm a huge fan of good customer service. Let's talk about the good and bad customer service I've received this week.
3a. Burke Williams Spa - I decided yesterday that I "needed" to get my eyebrows waxed and it was the first place I thought of to try, not having any personal waxing experience in this city. You should go, you should ask for Robin. She just moved here from LA, and was great. And not only because she gave me a slew of free samples to shove in my pocket.

3b. Whole Paycheck - Though I am not a foodie, there are specific foods I like better than others, and DeBoles spinach fettucini is one of them. Whole Foods will order it by the box for me, and sell it wholesale. Me likey. The other day I went to pick up my box of pasta, and the guy told me there'd been a terrible accident. Somebody opened up the box they were holding for me and SOLD one of the boxes of pasta! He told me to go pick out any pasta off the shelf that I wanted, they'd give me that for free, and still sell me my big box of pasta wholesale.

3c - Safeway Delivery - they were scheduled to arrive last night between 7 and 9 p.m. At 8:41 p.m. I called Safeway to ask when I should expect the dude to arrive. They told me to call them if he didn't arrive before 9 p.m. I asked how that would work since they close then too. The guy gave a big sigh, saying, "I suppose I *could* call the driver on his phone..." to which I replied, "Thanks! I'll hold!" He came back saying the driver was running late and would be arriving between 10 and 10:30 p.m. That pissed me off. I'd specifically not started dinner because I didn't want to have food all over the counters when the delivery guy arrived. So I asked when somebody was planning to tell me the driver would be arriving late. Dude on the phone didn't know. The driver arrived at 9:22 p.m., and never apologized for being late. Despite my anger, I did tell the driver to be careful of the stove, which was hot, as by that point I was cooking dinner.

4. Loose Earlobe Lady - yeah I know, you thought there'd be no more LEL stories. SURPRISE! I was at an interview the other day, and the HR woman looked at the last firm I worked at, and told me she'd interviewed Loose from my firm, did I know her? Why yes, in fact we sat next to each other. Say Green, why did you leave Last Firm? Because they moved my department to the East Bay and I live in the city and didn't want to commute so far. Ohh, that makes sense. So does Loose live in the city also? Nope, she lives in the East Bay. Was her last day the same as your last day? No, she left about three weeks or a month before I did. I just left it there. If I said anything else it'd have been rude. I had a second interview with the firm today, and the attorney liked me a lot, but wants to interview more people. In telling a friend about it, I confessed to being worried. "What if he interviews someone else and finds someone better than me to hire?" Her response was perfect. "He won't. Look who's out there - Loose Earlobe!"

5. Bank of America - Trixie is away on a long trip (party at my house!) and left me the rent check for October before she went. She forgot to sign it. I brought it to the bank today, and the guy deposited it without blinking or saying a word to me. That SUCKS. To know my bank is that lax in their procedures? Horrible! Bank of America, for SHAME!

As annoying as all this is, I realize it could be worse. How's your customer service been lately?

The End of An Era: LEL Says Goodbye (Not To Me Though)

May 9, 2007

As I type this, LEL is packing her desk. She keeps looking over at me, glaring, and then slamming her drawers closed.

LEL is leaving for a two-week vacation tomorrow, to celebrate the birth of her granddaughter. (Whose name is Rachel Ray. I KNOW!) First I heard that the Gay HR Guy told LEL not to bother coming back after her trip. Then I was told she wasn't coming back because she had a new job. Then I was told the new job fell through, and LEL WAS coming back. After that, I was told LEL was coming back because since she didn't have a new job, if she didn't come back she wouldn't be able to get unemployment. This morning I was told she's not welcome back. And LEL's cleaning out her desk. So I guess she's not coming back.

Any time somebody leaves a company, everyone always blames everything they find wrong on the person who has just left. I am not sure why. Maybe it's because they're not there to defend themselves? Maybe it's to shift blame away from the person who really screwed up? Whatever the reason, I hate the practice. I hate LEL, but I still like to be fair to people. And from what I can tell, she did a damn good job of filing. Never mind that she was a Filing Nazi, not wanting anyone else to touch her files.

Cowboy is practically floating on air this morning, happy to finally be rid of LEL. Yes, even though he traded me to get her. I can't think of anyone who is sad to see LEL leaving. Sure, people are sad that she won't be providing candy anymore, but they'll sacrifice that for the quiet we'll now have.

May 13, 2007

We've had a few days to get used to LEL being gone. We've had a few days to steal leftover office supplies from her desk, too. Cowboy hasn't asked me for much, which is good for me, since I'm so busy surfing the 'net, I barely have time for work at work.

Part of me feels sad - that nobody was really sad to see LEL go. I haven't forgotten what it's like to have everybody hate you, and even if you do things to drive people away, you either can't see it, can't help it, or both.

"I Gotta Get It Out, I Gotta Get It Out*"

Okay so I just need to purge this before I implode.

LEL's latest thing is that when she and I are walking down the hallway towards each other in opposite directions, when we come upon each other she flattens herself against the wall, as if I smell (I don't) or am so fat that I take up the entire space (I'm not). I'm feeling like the next time we get to that point, I am thinking of dramatically throwing MYself against the wall wildly, just making fun of her. Yeah, maturity is not really winning in this situation.

Her other thing is that she will never ever be polite to me. To me, being polite to her is simply the professional thing to do, and that's why I am always polite to her, no matter how rude she is to me. Except, not exactly. It is unquestionably rude to point out somebody else's lack of manners. And that's exactly what I've been doing.

LEL not only will go so far as to print to the printer I use (because Cat Lady scared her away from using the one she uses), she will also throw out documents I print if she gets to them first. I would never do that. I have actually taken something off the printer, seen it's clearly hers, and said to her "I think this is yours" while holding it out to her. And then, as she walks away after taking it, I say "You're welcome." Sometimes mumbled, sometimes brightly with a shit-eating grin. Today I held a door for her and after she'd walked through, I tossed a "You're welcome" over my shoulder as I turned the corner.

I've been doing this for about two weeks now, because .... well, because I guess I'm slightly snapping. I can only take so much, and I've taken A LOT. We haven't even discussed LEL's habit of bypassing me to speak with my attorneys, or the time she mistakenly entered her Baby Attorney's time on Name Partner's time code and then denied it because I was the one who'd discovered her mistake. We haven't talked about the fact that if LEL comes into the copy room while I'm there, I always move over to make room for her, but she never extends the same courtesy for me. Or that if Cowboy needs something from her when she's not around to do it, I always offer to help him, and then fill her in on what's gone on when she returns, so she's not left in the dark, and she never thanks me for that.

This afternoon after I did the you're welcome thing, as we both got back to our desks, LEL said something like "Don't talk to me about manners" or "You can't talk to me about manners." My gut reaction was to think "Of course I can - I can do whatever I want." I made a face reflecting that somehow, and LEL then said, "In that case, YOU'RE WELCOME for the menorah I gave you, that I spent $25 on."

Oh no she di'in't. As soon as she said that, I replied with, "I thanked you for that, in same moment I picked it up." Which is true, I did. I then followed up with an e-mailed thank you note to her that morning also.

I never told LEL what I did with her menorah that she gave me. I gave it away. I listed it on Craigslist for free and gave it to somebody, because I knew I'd never use it. If I were going to use any sort of menorah, it'd be an electric one.

Anyway. I am not proud of myself for acting this way, pointing out LEL's lack of manners all the time. I know better. You might say, just don't do things for her that would require a normal person to thank you, so you're not compelled to say you're welcome. However, that goes against me - if I know the right thing to do for the good of my department, my law firm, I feel like I have to do that. Fucking work ethic, screwing up everything. Yeah, I should just be the bigger person.

UPDATE: This morning I just spoke with Cat Lady about it all, and she encouraged me to keep doing this you're welcome shit, even after I said "Everybody knows it's bad manners to correct someone else's bad manners" which tells you something about Cat Lady. She also encouraged me to tell Cowboy and Nice Partner, which I don't want to do. It's pathetic enough that two grown women can't work out an issue - I can't also drag in our bosses. Cat Lady insists LEL will be gone in two months.

I just had horrible chest pains for about ten minutes, and I wonder if that's my punishment for being immature about this and not just completely ignoring LEL's idiocy, like I probably should be doing.

*First person to tell me what movie that line is from gets a prize.

Jaw Droppings

A few months ago I had to give something to LEL. I could have rolled my chair over to her in-box with one push of my feet, because that's how close we sit to each other. But I didn't. I got off my ass and walked the entire five feet over to her desk and said something along the lines of "Cowboy asked that you file this in the Grumpleson file" as I placed the document in her in-box. Would you like to know the response I got to that? Sure you would!

"In the future, when addressing me, please go around and stand in front of my desk at the ponywall; don't stand next to me."

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me. Talk about standing on ceremony! Talk about making people jump through hoops! Talk about earlobes that swing in the breeze!

But whatever - killing LEL with kindness is my method of dealing with her, so I agreed to do that. In reality, I never do that. I e-mail her, I wait until she's not at her desk to give her things, and twice I've even gone so far as to use our mail guys to deliver inter-office envelopes to her.

Today LEL came to my desk to give me a document of Tuna's, claiming it's mine to file. She did it smugly, pleased to be giving me work to do. I was in a mood.

"LEL? In the future, please address me from the other side of the ponywall."

LEL's response? "EXCUSE ME?" Her jaw dropped.

I slapped the most innocent expression I could onto my face and replied, "What? I'm just asking that you extend the same courtesy to me that you demanded." And then I walked away without waiting to see her reaction. And I didn't trip over the carpet until I'd rounded the corner and she couldn't see me anymore. Thank goodness.

And yes, I laugh at myself when I trip.

Touched

There was an earthquake last night. I wasn't sure that was what I was feeling though, and had to ask someone. It felt like something hit the side of my apartment building really hard. Usually I feel earthquakes from the bottom up, or on the all the sides. This felt like something slammed into the building - something like a plane, because I'm from New York and that's where my mind goes first.

While getting ready for work this morning my cell phone started ringing. Even though I was sure it would be a wrong number, I went to get my phone anyway, and saw my brother's work phone number. He was calling because he'd heard about the earthquake. To check on me. He's been working 18-hour days lately, and he called me when he heard about the earthquake. Don't ever tell yourself "nobody really cares" when you're thinking of doing something nice, and starting to decide not to. I'm touched every single time I find out someone thought of me.

Today at work the Grandmas were discussing the earthquake. LEL was in Berkeley when it happened. I know, because she said so three times in the space of 18 seconds. Cat Lady asked if she cried like a baby. Loudly. Of course LEL didn't hear her the first two times, and Cat Lady got to repeat herself. "You cried like a baby, didn't you? You scream when I trip. When the earthquake happened, I thought of you right away. I know you screamed like a monkey." LEL claims she was terrified. She did not seem touched to know Cat Lady thought of her.

Working on Commuting

I just need to say that the new grandma who wore red leather pants two weeks ago showed up today wearing a leather skirt. Thank you.

So, my new commute is not working out for me.

In the mornings, the bus doesn't come until five minutes before 9 a.m., getting me to work 10-15 minutes late every day. In the evenings, I have to stand outside in the cold for 20-35 minutes waiting for the bus to come take me home. This will not do.

This morning I tried a different route, that involves taking two buses. I got to work at 9:06 a.m. Better, but still not good enough. However, I overshot my stop getting off the first bus, so I'm going to try again tomorrow. This new route, although it involves more walking, might just be what I need.

I found a different route for getting home that also involves taking two buses. Not much waiting is involved at all, but each day something goes wrong while I'm ON the bus that goes down Market Street. There's a car accident and we get stuck on the bus for a long time. A crazy man gets on the bus and blocks the aisle with his huge suitcase and engages in a stand-off with the bus driver who says he won't move the bus until Crazy Man moves his suitcase. Crazy Man inspires half the passengers of the bus to prepare to flee as he mumbles to himself and reaches around in his suitcase, worrying everyone he's about to pull out a gun, only to open his hand and reveal a tape measure in an effort to prove his point. This bus lets me off further away from home than the evening bus I used to take, leaving me to walk three blocks to get home.

I think the evening commute is half a dozen of one, six of another. I can either lose 25 minutes standing outside, or while sitting on the bus for whatever reason followed by walking the last few blocks home.

I started this post with a grandma tidbit, and I'll end it with another grandma tidbit. Cat Lady told me yesterday that LEL is not only not being invited to move when my department moves to a different office, but that she was told to start looking for a new job. I'm not sure I can believe Cat Lady. Tuna and I had a chat this morning about the move, and I told him that I hope to still have a job. He promised to speak with Cowboy and see what he can do for me.

Exciting Update: Today I got to work late taking the two-bus route. However, I will claim the Milli Vanilli card, and blame it on the rain that was fallin' fallin'. Will try again tomorrow.

The Furious Filer

LEL is very particular about her files. She doesn't like for anybody else to touch them. It's only because we work in the same department that she "allows" me to pull files from "her" file cabinets (they're really Cowboy's file cabinets). But I'm never EVER to put anything back. I'm not to put files back in the cabinets, nor am I to file any documents in the files. Once I've taken something out, I'm to put it in LEL's in-box and let her re-file.

She's excellent at her filing. She loves her filing. Nothing makes LEL happier than a big fat batch of filing to plow through. She runs back and forth between her desk and the file cabinets, earlobes flapping wildly in the breeze she creates, clutching papers to her chest the whole way. You know how professional tennis players grunt when they serve? She grunts the same way when she staples or three-hole punches documents.

I am the exact opposite way. I mourn the loss of the old days, when I had a file clerk who did all my filing for me, and did it with a smile. I hate filing. I hate the paper cuts that it brings, I hate the alphabet, I hate everything about filing.

Lately something weird has been happening. Tuna will call me or pull me into his office, tell me this is to be kept quiet, and then ask me to do something like fax a document to a client. It'll always be something Cowboy is involved with. Of course I say okay, of course I go do whatever is needed. But let's review. LEL is Cowboy's secretary. I used to be, but haven't been for quite some time now. A client is a client is a client, right? I mean, LEL is a fucking wackjob, but she can walk over to the copy room and toss some clipped papers in a bin marked "FAXES", right? And yet this keeps happening.

Yesterday Tuna had me take a letter signed by Cowboy and FILE IT when LEL wasn't looking. Today he had me take that letter and fax it to someone. Then I was to put it back. All without LEL noticing. Getting the letter and faxing it were no problem. But then LEL was on a filing spree and I couldn't get to the cabinets without her noticing. So it was sitting on my desk for a while.

Then I get an e-mail Tuna has forwarded me from LEL, asking him if he has the exact file I have. Crap! I write back that it's on my desk, and will put it back as soon as she walks off to do anything else other than filing. I get my chance and run to slide the file back into place. So cloak and dagger. Tuna and I meet up in his office, and I tell him he can just tell her to check again, and it'll be there. Sure we'll be contributing to her eventual nervous breakdown, but hey, it's inevitable - might as well speed the process along, right? No? No.

Tuna decided instead that he'd tell LEL he had me pull something from the cabinet while she was away, because Cowboy needed it done immediately, and he told me to put the file back. He promised to tell LEL that I vehemently protested but he insisted. It was a very quiet conversation they had. I didn't even realize when it was happening. But all of a sudden LEL was at her desk, pounding away at her keyboard. POUNDING to the point I wondered if her fingers could possibly go straight through.

And then I got the e-mail from her. A very nice e-mail, thanking us for helping, but reminding Tuna that she prefers to file her own documents and asking that we both respect that in the future. Thanks! It almost seemed like a normal, nice e-mail. Except that I heard the POUNDING as she typed it out. LEL's fury was radiating off her body.

I think LEL is losing her mind. Like, seriously. Losing her mind. As uncomfortable as I am sitting next to someone I NEVER EVER speak to, I'm a pretty quiet person. I'm no Chatty Cathy. LEL LOVESSSSSS to talk. She talks to everyone, whether or not they have the time or inclination to talk with her. So I know it's a real effort for her to not talk with me. On the other side of her sits Cat Lady, who is back to not talking with LEL (it's hard to keep up).

Cat Lady wants LEL to go crazy. She wants bad things to happen to her. It's going to happen. I've been around crazy people before, and I can sense these things coming. Just like alcoholics have to hit their bottoms, crazy people have to break.

LEL is going to break soon. There are little signs that show me she's cracking. Like the fact that LEL sent Tuna an e-mail today asking him to do some administrative task while she's out of the office tomorrow. That's completely inappropriate - she only asked him to do it because she didn't want to talk to me. LEL is going to fall down in six months or less. That's my prediction. I'll let you know what happens.

In completely unrelated news, I drafted a Notice of Motion and Motion to Expunge Lis Pendens, Supporting Declaration of Nice J. Partner, and Memorandum of Points and Authorities this afternoon. I saved. I hit print. As I got up from my chair to fetch the pleadings from the printer, Nice Partner called me. Bypassing the printer I went to his office. Only to find out our opposing counsel had just called and was going to withdraw. His lis pendens. Which means all that work I had just done was for naught. In a monotone voice, I said to Nice Partner, "Thank you for providing me with this exciting opportunity to practice my typing and pleading skills." He laughed and apologized that it came down that way.

And Everywhere That Green Went, LEL Was Sure To Go

I joined the Social Committee at work a while ago. Guess who's attended the last two meetings? That's right, your favorite heavily perfumed grandma has decided she should be involved too. She always sits diagonally across the table from me, and makes sure to challenge something I say. At the first meeting she tried to instigate a jew-off, since we were the only two jews at the meeting, but I wouldn't bite.

At the most recent meeting LEL agreed to be in charge of our Lunar New Year celebration. Which the Head Grandma had to keep reminding her was not to be referred to as the Chinese New Year. Being in charge of a specific event is not as big a deal as you'd think. What's that? No, I haven't been in charge of any events yet. Shut up, we're talking about LEL here, not me.

Anyway. Being in charge of an event that's been done before means it's really easy. Ummm... so I hear from other people. Whatever, shut up. You look in the file at what was done last time, and do it again, unless there are notes that people complained. Celebrating the Lunar New Year means ordering Chinese food from a local restaurant for 110 people. Not very difficult. Except that apparently it is for LEL.

Word in the hallway is, LEL has asked the Head Grandma (who runs Social Committee meetings) so many questions that she got told "Hey, you volunteered to be in charge of this, so do it." LEL already knows which place to order from. A year ago, Cowboy had her order Chinese food one day for everyone in our corner, and we all agreed the food was great. So LEL already knows where to order the food from. And really, restaurants are used to catering events. They know how it's done. I mean sure, you can request specific things you like, but in general, if you're trying to feed over 100 people, you want a little of everything.

But no. A half hour ago I heard LEL enlisting the help of our facilities coordinator. At first it made sense - you have to reserve a conference room, make sure it's allowed, whatever. But because LEL and I sit so close, and because she is unable to speak any quieter than you would if you wanted to be heard while seated at the Superbowl, I know LEL was discussing which dishes to order with the guy. Maybe she's worried everyone will know she's in charge, will blame her if something they hoped for isn't there? But it's free food. The attorneys LOVE free food. The only time I've seen Tuna run is when he's found out about leftover food after a meeting. COME ON! Just be bold and decisive and make a damn decision! It's just food.

In other, unrelated news, LEL is expecting her first granddaughter. This means I will have to hear a lot more of "HELLO GORGEOUS!" and "Tell Gramma 'I lub you'" Oy to the vey.

My Shit Needs a Hill

When I was growing up, my dad would come home from work and methodically go from family member to family member and scream at them. Later, my brother explained how it must be for my dad. To go to work and deal with a bunch of productive adults all day. To be their manager, and tell them to do something, and not only do they do it, but they try to do anything else they can think of that he might want done. Then to come home and deal with kids who shove the clothes on their floor into their closets after saying "I will, in the next commercial" four times. Must be frustrating as all hell.

And yet. My father really would come home, and go look at his mail in the kitchen while my mother was cooking dinner. And he'd scream at her for using the wrong pot, or using a fork to stir something in a pan, or whatever. Then scream at my brother for leaving his books near the stairs (never in front of the stairs, because we didn't do that, but just next to them). Then he'd move on to me, and scream at me for hiding from the world in bed, or scream at me for watching MTV. "Get a life!" he'd yell, while I watched Julie and Eric flirt on The Real World. Shit rolled downhill, and I was the bottom of that hill.

I am stressed out. During the last month people have been lying to me left and right. People are telling me things that don't add up. Now I may not have graduated from college, and may barely be able to read, but I'm no moron. I happen to be a fantastic liar. I don't say that to brag, I say that because as a fantastic liar, I'm very good at knowing when people are lying to me.

So why last weekend, when I was in a restaurant and told the waiter I'd like bacon "very well done, like burnt" did he try to tell me after I'd sent it back twice and he brought it a third time, that it was restaurant policy not to burn bacon? Don't lie to me. I asked why, if that was restaurant policy, he didn't say that when I ordered it burnt? Yeah, that's what I thought.

During the first week of this month, I ordered a year's worth of contact lenses, and some oranges to be sent to two different friends. None of these things arrived. The lens company left me a voice mail on Monday, saying they spoke with Jack at my leasing office who has a note on my package that he gave it to me. Umm... if he has a note on my package, then clearly I don't have it, do I? I called the leasing office today to sort this out. Meanwhile my left eye is so irritated I'm resisting the urge to claw it out of my eye socket.

The orange people claimed they sent my oranges when I called the first time. Breezily, without looking anything up. Ping! My friends are nice - they would have thanked me if they got them and I knew this. I didn't believe the orange company, so I asked what date they were delivered. Of course they couldn't provide me with a date, and when I pressed further, they'd lost my order completely. I offered to forward the e-mailed confirmation they'd sent me back to them. They assured me they'd call me tomorrow. That was last week. I've been calling them every day now, and I think they're avoiding me at this point. I'm pissed.

All this, while I'm freezing in my apartment that STILL smells like paint (as I wait impatiently for the smell to go away so I can invite Karen_S over, in the hopes she'll bring her baby, who is the happiest baby I've ever seen in my life). All this, while I'm dealing with LEL.

Oh! Let's talk about LEL for a moment if you don't mind. LEL has enthusiastically hated me for over a year now. She rolls her eyes any time I talk to her. She glares at me. She speaks to me as if I'm stupid. Just so it's clear, I don't talk to LEL about anything unrelated to business. An attorney tells me he's looking to speak with the Cowboy today and asks when he'll be in. I tell LEL, "Igor wanted to talk with Cowboy today; he was looking for him earlier." LEL's response is to say in a "you're such a fucking idiot that you make me sick" tone of voice "Cowboy won't be in today. *I'll* speak with Igor." As if I was a schmuck for not knowing Cowboy's schedule, as if I fucked up something with Igor and she's going to go sort out the mess I made.

Her attitude makes me want to smack her. Her spraying that terrible-smelling perfume makes me want to dunk her head in a toilet and flush repeatedly. I am always very professional with LEL. But I am losing it. Seriously, I am totally losing my temper. Cat Lady can see my face tighten, and she keeps encouraging me to tell on LEL to HR. She likes drama; she is trying to manipulate me into giving her some. I am not that stupid. I'm not going to HR to whine "LEL makes faces at me when I talk to her!" Because I'm not five years old anymore. You know, when it was acceptable to whine to your parents during long car trips that "Golden Boy's almost touching me!" (except it was always me, bothering him).

LEL is pissing off everyone around her. The other day, Cowboy threatened to behead her if she didn't stop shaking her head (clearly I missed something). He threatens things like that in a way that sounds joking but you know you should listen to what he's saying underneath the joke. A copy guy overheard the threat and said to LEL "I bet you've never been threatened with a be-heading before." Her response? "No, but I refuse to take it seriously since it came from an idiot." Dude, you just called your boss an idiot while at work, in front of someone you're consistently mean to. NOT SMART. No, I'm not going to tell on her for that. But really. Get some common sense, woman!

So I'm furious about many things. I come home to my empty, sub-zero apartment. Where there is nobody for me to yell at. No hill for my shit to roll down. There is nobody there, in my smelly kitchen, cooking dinner for me to eat. My anger just rolls around inside of me, having nowhere to go. So of course it turns into depression. Which explains why my chin was trembling and tears were forming when I talked to Nice Partner this morning about my cold apartment. Because I just don't have it in me anymore to fight all these things alone. I am so overwhelmed, and everyone is fighting me, instead of helping. And I need help. I need people to do their fucking jobs. I need my new contact lenses. I need my kitchen's paint smell to go away so I'll start cooking and eat something healthier than a bowl of cereal for dinner.

P.S. I seem to be having a terrible problem where I can't stop ending sentences with prepositions. At the end of each sentence I say to myself "dinner the mountain? no, okay keep going" or "down the mountain? shit, how can I reword that sentence? fuck it keep going" I keep doing this all over the place - why can't I stop?

P.P.S. Never mind about the above - I just went into Name Partner's office to get him to sign a letter and he had to figure out if "was" or "were" was appropriate for a sentence. We made a joke about how seventh grade English is so hard, and I feel better now. If a name partner can have grammar problems, then so can I. (I the mountain? no.) Though I do wish I had a secretary to help me figure these things out. Out, the mountain? No, it's good, carry on. Wait! In the mountain would be bad. Shit. Though I do wish I had a secretary to help me with these things. Things the mountain? No. All clear! Jesus fucking christ.

Grandma Theory

Cat Lady yelled at LEL last week. They used to use the same printer, and LEL used to move and otherwise fuck up Cat Lady's documents. So Cat Lady yelled at her to stop touching her shit.

Fuck you, Cat Lady, because now LEL is using the same printer *I* use! I told Cat Lady not to expect a present from me on her birthday, after this crap. Anyway. That has nothing to do with the real point of this post. I just felt the need to bitch.

The real point is that Cowboy is slowly being driven crazy by LEL. At one point today when he turned away from her, he slowly closed his eyes and then opened them, and I wondered if he was imagining banging his head against a wall repeatedly. My firm is opening another office outside of the city. When? I don't know. But I'm staying here if I have the choice (and I believe I do). LEL however, lives pretty close to where the new office will be, so I've been assuming that when Cowboy goes there, she'll go with him.

I casually mentioned this to Cat Lady today, and she told me that's not the case at all. She claims LEL hasn't been invited. I didn't realize there were any formal invitations being sent out. Cat Lady has this interesting theory about the new office though - they'll tell LEL they need something different than what she does currently, for the new office. Then they'll say they have no open positions in our SF office, paving the way to lay her off and finally be rid of LEL once and for all. Interesting.

I Don't Feel Like Working Today

The wind is blowing so hard that my office building is making noises. I forgot to bring breakfast to work today like I usually do, and noon can not come fast enough. Loose Earlobe Lady must have family in town , because she keeps making calls on her cell phone and loudly exclaiming, "Hello, Georgeous!"

In third grade my teacher gave the class a project involving poems - we had to find one poem we thought represented each member of our family, including ourselves. I thought it was a stupid project. I hate, and have always hated, research, and rarely enjoy poetry. I've never "gotten" Shel Silverstein. and the only poem I like is this one, by Dylan Thomas.

The poem I used for myself, as a third-grader who couldn't do her homework more than 60% of the time, was this one. Which of course, my mother found for me.

What I want to be doing instead of working is all the crap I never have time to do:
Several loads of laundry (including a blanket)
My slipcover project (no, I don't sew, just trying to buy slipcovers to cover my living room furniture, which I am tired of looking at)
Get to the bank to deposit checks, including over 20 rolls of coins
Get a quote from a second moving company
Send out some difficult e-mails
Clean the glass pan I accidentally burnt last night trying to make a healthy dinner
Clean the kitchen & bathroom
Get rid of stuff I don't need or want (vase, anyone?)

That must be the sign of being an adult. When you don't want to be at work because you'd rather be doing other crap you need to get done. Why don't I want to do anything fun? Why has cleaning up become the equivilent of fun for me?

I am restless and feel like I have more important things to do. I don't want to be one of those people who takes time off from work to run errands. That sounds so dull and pathetic (sorry, if you do that). I want to be one of those people who takes time off from work to do fun things. Real fun things, not my version of fun things. Oh, look at that. Apparently, today I hate myself. I want to go home.

Hanukah

I saw Hanukah socks made by Hot Sox that were much cuter than the ones pictured here, with different colored dreidels, last time I was in Nordstrom's. And I paused when I saw them, because Loose Earlobe Lady would TOTALLY wear those. She'd love them, and she'd show them off to everybody. I thought about buying them for her. Then I thought about all the mean things she says, and decided, "Fuck it. Fuck her. There are better ways to spend my money than on someone who's consistently mean to me."

Despite last week's horrible project that forced us to work together, we got along quite nicely. And then today when I arrived at work, there was a brand new menorah on my chair. LEL bought me a menorah. For no reason at all, except to be nice.

Guess I'm going to go buy some socks later this week.