Friday, May 07, 2004
the new math
2+2= what do *you* want it to be?It's not creative accounting, per se, it's actually a damn fine fact based budget. The facts we've chosen to select, anyways. But, JE-sus.
Self-sufficiency (ie: doing your own taxes with a calculator and forms, changing your own oil, moving your own furniture) is a good thing in my books. Most of the time.
You'd think, given that I'm good with numbers, was a statistician for a while and now partially work with data tables, that I'd actually be better with my own money. Not. My budgets sure are sleek and sexy though.
DB seems to have bounced back from the trauma of the bus stop fiasco and has just announced to the entire department in an offhanded sort of way, "Hey, Jen tried to pick me up at the bus stop yesterday."
If we hadn't had wine (and oh my god, that just reminded me that I left all the grapes in the fridge - must go get.....)
Where was I? Oh, yeah if we hadn't had pear wine at lunch with the cheese, chocolate dipped strawberries and oysters, I may even have been able to get out a good comeback.
Alas, that was not the case.
some words put together in a way that pleases me greatly,
for no particular reason
Over thar at PornyBoy's Place.
And a post from Kdunk entitled My Best Friend the Science Experiment.
lyric at post:
..for though I cannot fly,
I'm not content to crawl..
Thursday, May 06, 2004
is this hell? c'mon, fess up. this is hell, isn't it?
It's a little room called 'Condominium Board Member'.I have never said much about being on the board because it's all bad. It's so bad I can't even make vaguely interesting stories out of it. And it's been a nightmare for two years. And I'm not going to say a whole lot now but....
Home ownership? Forced savings plan? HA! Equity means nothing if being on the condo board sends you to an early stress-related grave.
Make it stop. I'll sign anything. Just.make.it.stop.
I'm sure things will look better by the time I get to work, yet again, at the unholy hour of 7:25. I'll be easy to recognize - the one double-fisting Starbucks, a straw in each nostril.
The Fine Art of Dodging Communication
One of the guys at work picks on me consistently. Actually he picks on pretty much everyone and admittedly I feed into it by posting Detroit Redwing stuff everywhere in his line of vision and this morning I did mention that when I'm president of the world I'll have him killed, but whatever...In one of the endless debates I asked:
"What have I ever done to you to deserve you being mean to me?
"You want a list?"
"Please"
"Alright, I'm not sure who I'm going to charge those three hours to though."
Maybe you just had to be there.
This morning I'm waiting for the bus as per usual wearing my headphones with the music cranked in an effort to avoid my little bus stalker from last summer. Although's he no longer hangs around outside my building (but since I don't have a dog to walk anymore maybe he's out there...waiting in vain), he still does take the bus and so the music allows me to stare blankly, gesture vaguely at the headphones and nod curtly when he sits in front of me, turns around and his mouth starts to move.
The bus pulls up. I can kind of hear a noise. It coalesces into honking, honking, honking. I glance over and there is someone in a black car waving frantically at me.
Now, the bus is in front of me, door open and I'm so not missing the bus to go see who the fuck it is. It could be anyone. I make a point of never looking around at honking or screaming. It annoys me. It's rude. Add that to the fact that it's early morning and I can't even see straight until after I've had two more cups of coffee I just get on the bus sort of wondering if there's some other weirdo following me around.
I have to admit, I couldn't tell you what most of my acquaintences drive, but I pretty much know that if the car isn't immediately familiar then it's not someone I want to talk to.
I get to work. Drink coffee. DB comes running around the cubicle and yells, "Christ, are you ever a freak! I was trying to give you a ride to work and you looked at me and then turned away. What the hell is wrong with you?"
I feel bad. He looked really hurt. He gets picked on the worst of anyone in the office and he's one of my favorites.
I guess this means I should wear my vintage Broncos t-shirt tomorrow. It makes him happy.
I promised I'd call to give my number to someone. But, we all know I'm not doing that, right? So, to fulfill the very basic of expectations/promises I sent the following email....."My cell number is **********. It's also my home phone and it's usually only actually on about 3 hours a day. I'm sort of bad that way."
Think he'll be able to guess which three hours it'll be on?
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
back away from the Jen, slowwwwly, slowwwly now
I guess I don't have to worry about another story for T2.I had to leave the board meeting.
I was barely able to resist the desire to punch one of them in the head and I thought it may be more prudent to remove myself before I began mocking their obtuseness.
(although I have to admit, to my shame, that "creeping meatballism" did not immediately spring to mind as an alternate word)
Man, I'm tired. I require 15 hours of sleep in a soft fluffy cloud where I cannot hear hockey fans, phones, alarm clocks, cats meowing, firetrucks or the incessant bleating of my own mind.
cranky pants
erm..not me. T2. I get that head-around-the-corner BARK (which admittedly he doesn't do very often he's just such a nice guy).. "Do you have some time? Right now?"Dragged into his office he promptly begins to read me emails pausing every few minutes to snap, 'What did THAT part mean to you?
Which is followed by a discussion about the strongest word he can use with an elected official to get his point across. I cast my vote for 'assfuck' but he thinks 'Jesus Christ' is stronger. We end up agreeing that his depends on your upbringing (for some reason, for both of us, it was the holyshitwereintroublenow, dadsreachingforthegun defining term of our youth). But, sadly, tact is not one of my virtues so 'assfuck' is out too.
I guess we're vetting everything through me now. It's not like they pay anyone else to sit in his office and listen to him, I'd be guessing that's my job. Not that I mind.
Eventually, he calms down and I tell him my 'Jen story of the week' (weirdly enough, I actually do this consistently for him, mostly everyone else I don't see anymore). He's concerned.... it's only Wednesday, what if nothing else happens? I've spoiled his week!
As we chat I realize that he's always saying things like 'so-and-so is our age' / 'you'd remember that band, it was our generation.' And he's right...but it's just weird - I just don't think of these guys as being anything like me. Even though they are. They went to school longer and they learned to be politically correct and talk the big talk while I just decided I would never conform. I'm just Jen, 24 hours a day. And look where we are now, relatively. Like when Dr. B admits to me that he looooooves 'The OC' and he watched a movie the other night just because Jason Priestley was in it (90210 generation). It's just so out of character from their 'public face' that I have a hard time reconciling the two.
Board meeting tonight.
I'm still at work. I should probably go home. But it's sort of snowing. And I have to go buy crackers and grapes for Friday because someone decided we're having a wine and cheese party for lunch.
Donna? Are you here? Speak to me girlie.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Distraction by sleight of mind
I came home and got all tangled up in the financials for the new condo budget. Which, frankly, makes me either want to cry or go on up to the roof for a little extreme skydiving.To distract myself from that I continued my endless quest for the negative of a picture I had given away. It's a picture taken during Stampede 2001 (funnily enough) of the barbers (cause we used to all get together on a wednesday afternoon during Stampede to bond) in a tent at ermm....Desperados. One of the reasons I've been looking for it is because of Phil. Not the Phil below, that's a girl Phil. This is a boy Phil. Who knows where he is now, but he and D and Stevie the barber are in it and it's an amazing group shot of us. My favorites of "us", anyway. Which is why I gave it away. Which is also why for a year I've been trying to find the negative so I can have it reprinted for myself. gahhhh.
Anyways, in digging through the photo albums I came across the pics I have of Tony, during one of the last two or three going away parties we had for him. I know I said below that he and TE were alike but that was based on a four year old memory and I could have just been talking out of my arse.
Quite often I am, believe it or not.
The frightening thing is, looking at the pics, they could be brothers. Although back then Tony was 26 so he'd be the older brother now.
Okay, weirdness alert.
So, then that made me wonder (I know the logic is hard to follow, just do the best you can).... if we all get to a certain point in our lives where everyone we meet reminds us of someone we already know.
And is it based on an age threshold? Or is there some sort of magic number of people past which they start to blend together? I swear one of Rob's kids was wearing one of Scott's dimples a couple of weeks ago.
ah-ha! see, I had a point.
smug break: I'd just like to say here that it's raining. Those knees of mine - never wrong since I was 12. Of course, out on the west coast they just hurt all the time and it wasn't until I moved here that I realized it had something to do with RAIN.
Back to distractions. I then came across an old notebook cause you know I've been writing things down since I could write (that's just a given). Inside this little notebook is a list of things that Tony said to me that I never wanted to forget because for some reason they have a lot of memories attached to them. And you know what? They do. I swear he just made me blush across four years. There were six of them. #4 was words he used that I hadn't heard anyone actually use in conversation before. A couple are even written phonetically. *snort* Garn. Derry. IX-cil-lint. Jinifah.
The next page of the notebook was a list of the three things that David loved about me. David (who's got a bit in the Tombs) was our boss at the time and before he left to go back East we played the 'tell me three things you love about me' game. Weird, with your boss, I know, but it was a different sort of bossness. For lack of a better way of putting it.
I remember one of the my things I loved about him - it had to do with his ability to put himself in any situation and see something from any point of view (mostly mine) which was something I'd never encountered in anyone before. Or since. Incredible to watch.
His three about me were:
1. Because you're Jen.
2. Because you've done really cool things.
3. Because you look at things that can't be changed, then change them anyway.
If this happens to be one of the rare days you stop in D, see how much I miss having you around?
So ends the Tiny trip down the Stampede memory lane.
Now, because I cannot distract myself any longer, I must go work out the fees based on unit factor for our meeting tomorrow night.
I do have one hockey related comment though. T1 observed this morning that "We kicked your ass last night, didn't we?" Can anyone honestly believe that winning the game by scoring the only goal one minute before the first OT ends can be truthfully classified as ass-kicking?
I think not.
Stampeding Boys
While two IT people do pointless things to my computer by remote access and I must sit here and watch, I've plugged in the laptop to amuse myself (and bore you).Being told that I've got to arrange Stampede this year has apparantly shoved my memory banks into complete overload. Either that or the sheer terror such a task invokes has shut down the thinking part of my brain and now only the past is fully accessible. So, here's a couple past Stampede people that have come up in the last 24 hours....
Considering that I'm not playing the archive game, I can't refer you back to the brief story about TomThatTicked but I think there are just some people in life that you run into every few years and can pretty much count on being a coincidental part of your life forever.
I met Tom within the first two weeks he moved here from the East Coast about 4 years ago. Then I ran into him again 2 years ago (whereupon it turned out he was working at Brad's company and was brought along to the function by aforementioned Brad) and then again yesterday. I have his card now and briefly thought about calling but I'm pretty sure there was some sort of compelling reason it didn't work out. (compelling reason - probably me).
Although, to be fairer to myself and closer to the truth he's not one of those people I immediately clicked with nor who really gets my sense of humor and even thinking about going through it all again exhausts me. What's the point? What a bad attitude that is. *whew*
I did forget to listen for the ticking though. Damn, that's gonna bug me.
Then I dreamt last night about Tony (of the 'father who was a Gideon - take the stolen bible back' story).
At first I thought it was TE when I woke up as they are similar in body type and looks but then I remembered him saying my name (in the dream) in that funny New Zealand accented way that only Phil has ever been able to duplicate. It sounded like "Gin-i-fah". Still makes me smile, that. Sometimes I call Phil and ask her to say it, just because.
Tony and I used to work in adjacent offices about five and a half years ago but he always looked so bitter and a bit like he'd been run over by a truck every morning I never actually spoke to him or even knew his name until one night during the Stampede. He recognized me in the bar and one of those long arms reached across his table and hauled me around. We ended up in some strange conversation of which I understood maybe 5% of - he being quite drunk and well, accented - while young girls clustered about and glared at me, during which I was positive he told me his name was "Tiny". It took about a week of me insisting to people at the office that we worked with some guy named 'Tiny' (since I'd gotten him to repeat it a bunch of times to be sure) that anyone bothered to tell me I was just an idiot. It was the bloody accent, you see. Australian being familiar but New Zealand'ish (or whatever) at that point being pretty new to me. Takes a while to train the ear, I think.
He and I spent pretty much every spare daytime (and a lot of the evenings in the pub) moment together from that point forward and I miss the endless witty email banter. It didn't take long for me to figure out why he looked like he'd been run over by a truck after we went out one night and he slept at my apartment. He just got up in the morning and went to work. Still wearing the same clothes, didn't brush his teeth, hair poking up all over. And as endearing as that sounds (or doesn't) it explained a lot. Even though he was working I think he figured he was on a permanent vacation. For all I know, he still is. Never struck me as a fella with a plan, that Tiny.
Every time I see the cd I have of BenFoldsFive, I laugh. He would periodically insist that he was leaving town and then....not. Phil finally brought in the cd and played this song for everyone. I don't remember him being too impressed by that, but by then he wasn't impressed by too much anymore, nor we with him. He really should have left earlier than he did.
sing us a song
just in case, by tomorrow
it happens - he's gone.
For two weeks and seven days
our fair foreign friend
I have this feeling
we might never see Steven again.
But we thought he was gone
but he's come back again
last week it was funny
and now the joke's wearing thin
'Cause everyone knows now
that every night now will be Steven's... last night in town
I imagine there's someone we used to work with who knows where he is now but the last email I got from him was a couple of years ago and he was still travelling - out in London then. It was a bit of a strange email, strange in a way I can't describe really without going into the myriad reasons relating to things that didn't happen so long ago. There was never anything more than an immediate and utterly-comfortable-easiness between us - instant fans of each other - that one rarely comes across in this life, although it has occurred to me many times since that both of us had some sort of different agenda that never quite made it out into the open. His last email was pretty pointed about things that should have been said before he left and a willingness to start back at square one and I think I replied to it but .... time moves on..
But there, out of three men, are two people I felt that sort of instant easiness around and regardless of what happened then or since, are people I will always wish had been around a little longer. It's too rare of a gift to ever wish away.
eek! IT is finished not solving anything with my computer and so I must return to work.
But not before roundly cursing PB for his CHAP-POST and then myself as I've just noticed I've spilled coffee on my pants.
Monday, May 03, 2004
WHAT time is it? hey, is that Shanahan?
I'm very tired. Rambly post. You've been warned.It was a long long long day. Apart from not getting more than ohh, an hour of sleep at a time all night (achy knees, which means it's going to rain sometime in the next 48) and being at the meeting at 7:30, I'm not so sure of the intelligence of locking one tired woman in a room with 7 men all day. Not that I don't love them and the Texan "YA'LL" but I think they mood swing more than I do.
And I swear I did not do this on purpose but our conference room was in the same hotel as the Detroit Redwings. I couldn't have planned it better if I tried. Cause, the boys came in and got me when Shanahan came out. Which was cool, since I've turned down every other opportunity to meet him in the last five years. Long story and one I'm too tired to tell right now.
DB's comment last week regarding the way NHL players all dress like private school brats was particularly amusing today. Brendan was wearing gray dress pants and a dark blue blazer. But, gee, so cute. Just needed a little beanie.
I'd forgotten how much he looks like WT. Or WT looks like him. Which may have been partly why I was with WT in the first place. But you won't know about that unless you were around in December for my description of the '12 Hours of Christmas'. Sorry.
Made my day, marred only briefly when T2 insisted on telling everyone at dinner I was throwing lingerie until they tackled me. Smartass.
One sort of tacky thing though, the concierge was wearing a Flames jersey. Okay, it's an expensive hotel so I would think in the first place that would be sort of out. But to wear it when you're concierge at the hotel where the opposing team is staying? I find that pretty tacky. And not very polite.
And about as welcoming as the stupid woman who called into the radio station this morning all proud of herself that they saw some of the players on a patio last night so she drove endlessly around the block whilst she and her young son yelled derogatory things at the Detroit players as they ate dinner. Apart from all the nasty things I find wrong with that, the thing I find most offensive is what she's teaching her son. It's only a fucking game. Get over yourself.
If I hadn't of had to be at the meeting, I would have called in myself with a few choice 'trailer park trash' comments.
Catering choices went over very very well. And dinner rocked. The cat seems quite pleased that I smell like calamari, mussels and king crab. In fact, I think he ate my pinky but I'm too afraid to look.
No alligator, though. They got rid of it cause no one ordered it. That makes me sad.
And does it embarrass me that T2 kept insisting to the waitress and everyone else that he would be lost without me? A little. I guess they call that 'job security'.
I also found out today that I have to plan Stampede, as well as the Christmas party. Oh, joy.
But, I came home to my less irritating new contacts in the mail - even the gray ones. Cause I always wanted to have gray eyes. Can't tell you how they look though, because my eyes are already killing me from today.
And now, I go to sleep the sleep of the well-deserved. Cause I refuse to jinx the game by watching it. 'night.
Sunday, May 02, 2004
0-freaking-early hours
I just realized that I had to time-call a cab, since I've got all the materials and the laptop and the LCD projector. gahh. There is so no way I'm hauling that stuff down to ritzy-ritz hotel meeting room for 7:30 in the morning. I'm not normally even getting out of bed at that point. Especially on a Monday.But then I remembered that I picked all the food. yay. And, after the meeting we're taking out most of the office for dinner at Bookers. Which means.... one of my favorite things. Alligator. But that's Ontario's fault. Or R's fault. Although, it may have been K's fault. Maybe it doesn't even matter. Cause I love that alligator.
I could gain a couple pounds tomorrow.
more syrup honey?
I'm sorry, but this just cracked me up. Go here.I ended up at work way earlier than I thought I would, so I'm home again, just kind of screwing about in here, while Cabot sleeps off his catnip high.
I've added some of those things I think of as writey-bits to the Tombs (although not that last one, I started it a long time ago re: Tony:there and I'm still sort of annoyed by it, as relevant as it felt yesterday), since I'm being kind of a hag about the archives. That may change depending on well... if I told you then it wouldn't be fair, would it? Suffice it to say: lots of people in the last week, MST, no comments. Of course, besides Fatboy and TE, cause I already know that. It's rude to come by and never ever comment. It's like blog-etiquette, kids. So, I'm just keeping the past, in the past.
The internet is kind of mi casa, su casa except when it's not.
Things will get back to normal, sooner or later. Bah, who am I kidding? There's no normal here.
Isn't that the whole point of a 'journal'? The place where you get to be the weird twitchy stalker stream of consciousness type abnormal? And, just for the record, I was not in Hollywood last week. Or the week before that. And I look nothing like that ident-i-kit poster.
Oh, and a Happy Birthday to D. I'da called, but I forgot until today, and it's just no good the day AFTER.
lyric at post:
..and if your way should falter, along this stony path,
it's just a moment, this time will pass..
