Predictability is a SIN

Well, we’re in for it…three times this week, Pinochet’s left early. Like I need this? I spent the last 4 out of 6 weekends here doing Video and Sports orders without a thank you, a smile, an acknowledgement or any overtime pay. I am happy that there are presently 3 lawsuits going on against the bullshit in this place, but it’s garbage in, garbage out.
This is what you get for hiring a cheap, substandard workforce. Actually, I wouldn’t call it a “force”, I’d call them “entities.” I’m still trying to figure out if some of them are human.

Be quiet, obedient, expedient, look ahead, pump out the work silently and you are given a carrot. If you can grab it off the stick. Individuality and sense is not the way to go around here. It’s about fitting in, following lock-step, conforming, trusting the powers that be. NOOOO! I won’t, I can’t, I refuse. Like I’ve said, my dignity will not be bought and sold. As Badu sings, “Times A’Wastin….”

Worlds is over, the champions have been decided. A quick update to JWe’s site shows he’s learned from the press biting him back. It must be nice to be called a failure by someone sitting at a desk every day who does less and makes more money. Oh wait! That describes my existence, too. No wonder I love Johnny so much. We’re practically kindred spirits in that sense. We do the work, they just criticize. What a big bag of bullshit that is. I am happy, however, that SkyRink will be offering free Sundays from April-June. Since I lived in Abe Stark during seven years of Sundays, this will be like going home. It’s gotta come from me, my maven is really, really busy. I have a notebook where I wrote down all the lessons from my previous master. I should refresh with flashcards or something. Ultimately, I have to get some of this weight off. Why not skate some of my blubber away?

In other news, I had no water pressure this morning. It came to a trickle after I had shampoo in my eyes. But of course! That’s the way plumbing works. I will drown myself in Clinique’s “Happy Heart” to cover up any funk.

G Dred’s band is on tonight, and I’ll be there. Apple martinis afterwards at some place around the corner. When’s the last time I had an apple martini? Good god, when’s the last time I drank? A glass of wine at Christmas, I think. Or was it champagne….can’t remember. Senility sucks.

I’m definitely doing V for Vendetta this weekend. I’m in the bitch mood that this movie most likely requires. I don’t think it’s about Al Qaida, it looks like a scathing portrait of the Bush administration. I’m still loving The Smirking Chimp website. Google and click away, kiddies! It’s fabulous.

And for those of you that say “There’s no such thing as a good democrat”, I say you certainly got what you voted for. Are you happy now, assholes?

That's Just What I Thought...

Well, I’m loving a certain email that was suddenly deleted at my job. Scavullo gave me a copy. Very nice. More proof that I am not the only maverick that is SICK of this place.

More buyouts and We Don’t Need You Here Anymore decrees are rip-roaring through my company. The previous management was like the Clinton administration. This one’s like the Bush administration. Disengaged management, cover-ups, propaganda, and that rah rah cheerleading bullshit of We Are the Best! We Are Number One! which is a lie, but the emperors wear no clothes. In fact the workers in the clothing factory don’t even know how to sew, stitch, bind a hem, repair a zipper, or attach a button on a sleeve.

Ketchum decided to pass on my application, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I got a bad vibe from Jen Hoffman as I sat there last week. I am STILL not in the business of touchy-feely cozy-oochy coochy when it comes to job interviews, just the facts will do. I think the nail in my coffin came about when I mentioned Pinochet’s impending spawn and subsequent work-dump that will land on my desk and only then I saw Hoffman’s little belly. I think she might have taken it personally. I, myself, can’t account for the estrogen surge that might piss off a pregnant interviewer, I stuck to the facts. I knew instinctively that the interview (and Hoffman) had no focus and they wouldn’t take me. So, the letter I received last night was not surprising at all. “Though we find your background impressive, there is no place for you at this time.” Um, no. There are two places, Jenny! You don’t want to give me either one. Whatever…IMG called back and I’m going in Monday. All I know is there’s a place for me other than here.

I do not have to put up with 11-hour days, $30,000 positions with no healthcare, no communication, non-negotiable overtime, shitty commutes, mandatory ass-kissing, and powermongering. Since my hunt is about to hit the one-year mark, it’s very clear that I am still here in hell because I know I am worth more. My last hunt took 13 months, this one might take longer in this current climate. People are desperate to sell their souls. I am not. I will not. I do not. Ever. Should they fire me? Then my standards may have to change in order to survive. For now, I’m all they have. If I’m such a horrible worker, why am I still here….now that’s a question only THEY can answer, not that they would.

Scavullo’s email—and for the life of me, I don’t know why I was given a copy—is proof that personal standards and integrity count for something. If the person in this email won’t give up? Then I can’t either. Why are questions (not “dissent”) stifled? Just who the hell are we scaring so badly that a straight answer is not part of the equation? This Do-as-I-say bullshit has to end somewhere.

Let it continue with me. My dignity is not here to be bought and sold.

The World We Live in is Not the Only One

And my proof is something I wish I’d seen live, but I was too busy running around last year to take the time out.

Thanks to Rob Brezny, my favorite astrologer, I found a wonderful site from Ashes and Snow, a photo exhibit which has now traveled to Santa Monica. People and animals coexisting silently, patiently. In a way that we do not. At least, not in this country.

And the immigration battle rages on, more proof that this administration is hellbent on twisting and gutting the very foundations of this country while forcefeeding “democracy” to other places. As if Iraqis would ever put capitalism, greed, materialistic pursuits and a sickening sense of imperialism above their God, the one King George the Chimp thinks he should blow up since his god told him to? Sad, sad, sad. It must piss off The Chimp knowing that while Jesus existed in the Koran, he was a lesser prophet to Allah. That's a pretty flimsy excuse for occupying a country that doesn't want us there.

All I know is I’m looking forwards to tomorrow’s total eclipse. We had a partial eclipse on the eve of my 34th birthday, which felt like a “ping”. Tomorrow’s eclipse will feel like a WHOMP across Europe and Africa. We’ll get the residuals, of course. We are in Aries now and that little ram doesn’t fool around! Big changes (usually irreversible) happen after an eclipse, so let’s sit back, pop open a Snapple, and see what happens.

From all that I’ve gathered on astrology sites and astronomy sites (NASA’s link is pretty amazing), people’s true nature will reveal themselves in the coming weeks. Since I’ve begun to figure out exactly what –not whom—I am stuck with at work, my instincts will most likely come to life. Theory and application are two different things but it’s so nice when they come together.

Tomorrow, we shall see.

New World Order

I pledge Allegiance to the Lie
of the United States of America
and to the Banana Republic for which it stands,
one nation under surveillance, indiscriminate,
with Liberty and Justice for some.

Think Our Commander in Chimp is pissing me off? Oh, you bet your ass he is! CNN made an incredible decision NOT to air his rambling, ridiculous speech where Monkey Man had to address that nifty little problem known as Viet Na...er, Iraq. Do we really need more fractured syntax about how God Told Him That The War is Right, The Economy's Doing Well, and We Will Win? I think not.

Another little joyous entry in the NY Post stated that plenty of NYC/NY State companies want to fold altogether or leave NY due to the high taxes and costs of begin here. I'd like to shatter my tv with a hammer when I see Pataki's smug face tout the "wonders" of NY. I'm glad he was hospitalized, I hope his guts rot. Appendicitis can kill if not treated, so I call that karma. Should have poisoned him. How much do we send to Albany? And how much do we get back. All for a fucking death penalty that no district attorney even uses in any of the boroughs. THAT'S CHOICE!

And this Suozzi bullshit makes me laugh. Spitzer's a pit bull and he's going to win. We need a governor who's actually going to do something besides sit on his rich ass. Oh wait, that statement would have to include Bloombucks, too. Buying an election seems to be big these days. Got money? Go on a campaign.

But wait, there's more to be heard in Bloombucksland---turns out that plum spot at City Hall that I interviewed at was never filled! I got the email--after sending 4 previous emails and 5 phone calls--stating, "We never filled that position. Rich (Plansky) is leaving to pursue other opportunities, and it will take us months to replace him."

NOW IT ALL MAKES SENSE. He knew damn well he didn't want to stay in that position. So, they rustled up two ads in the NY Times, got 150 applicants to come in on 2 or 3 interviews and he sat on it, procrastinating. BULLSHIT. They never had any intention of getting back to me. They did, however, waste my time. This is the main reason why I'm a firm believer in having an agenda. Why?

BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE HAS ONE. PLANSKY IS PROOF OF MY THEORY.

In fact, most of these politicians are. No wonder you can't fight City Hall--they're too busy trying to fill jobs that will ultimately never exist. Fuck the little people, I guess. Feh. More proof that the middle class will soon become the poor.

In local news, I hear J Hastie, the former head of S&T here in Cheapville [you can't spell cheap without AP], is SUING the company. It was in the paper, so it's happening. I don't want another narcissist to win, but at least it'll cost this place some in litigation. I totally love any swipe at this place. It spurs me on.

Let's see if my interview on Monday goes well. I'm using a vacation day--my divine right as per New York State Labor Law--to go see Jill Miller at IMG, the sports marketing firm. They were very impressed with skating background, the same background I've been told numerous times means nothing, does nothing, and is basically a stupid hobby. Well, my cover letter got sent to the head of HR, that's how stupid it is, so pbbbbtthhhhttt on you.

I'm off to read The Smirking Chimp website. Google it, tis very amusing.

That's enough bile for now, folks!

Wow. Some Dream

Well, either it's an omen, or just a really really bad dream, kiddies.

I DREAMED I WAS DEAD.

As in Sixth-Sense-Bruce-Willis-Good-God-Can-No-One-Hear-or-See-Me DEAD. Strange. The sheet was over my head, I even tried to call my mother, but my voice was nonexistent. Only one other dead person could hear me. Interestingly, the guy was a coworker, who has the same name as my grandfather, who died within hours of my birth.

Dreaming you're dead can be viewed as transformational, but I've never had this dream before. It shook me, that's for sure. Given my dark mood lately, it's certainly within reason that I would think of something like this, but it was so literal. I was a corporeal spirit, if that's even a term.

FishyWitchy indeed.

Mercury in Retrograde ends Friday. Let's see if things pick up. Meg, your card's in the mail. It's not as wonderful as I was hoping. Hallmark's become boring and politically correct--all the March birthday cards I bought were just lame this year.

sigh...

let's see if I'm alive in my dreams tonight?

Gimme a Grande Gwat!

That is the rallying cry as I enter this building's Starbucks--the guatemalan blend is my favorite, so I've recycled RD's term from long ago. It's still funny. Mike, the person whose resume I've promised to fix, pours with glee and sometimes gives me a free-of-charge slice o'cake to go with it. So generous!

And now, I will play KJou's song...."Overjoyed." I'm burning up my RealPlayer with tons of stuff. I even dug out my copy of Portishead's Dummy yesterday. I haven't played that since Brian Booch and I hung out during the early 90's. He's married with a kid now, but still living with Mom. Any wonder why we faded from each other? I remember how much she hated me. That amuses me no end. Still, we shared good music, he had a cool cat named Toby, and he was a decent guitarist. I never cared for his blatantly poor choice of girlfriends (of which I wasn't, thankfully), so I wonder what the wife looks like. Nahhh...still don't care.

Speaking of music, what the hell happened to my copy of Us by Peter Gabriel? Hmmm...I know Anya didn't borrow it. Coulda sworn I had that on cd. Where did it go? My vinyl copy of Big Audio Dynamite's E=mc2 is also missing....sing it with me

Ritual ideas relativity
Only buildings no people prophecy
Timeslide place to hide nudge reality
Foresight minds wide magic imagery oh oh

And everyone says rappers started with samples. No, go back to 1985 and download this song. Pretty groundbreaking. I think of it as the audio equivalent of that old HBO show Dream On. Snippets, clips.

No one's really here today, and I've vowed to do as little work as possible. I've earned it, I think. Looks like I won't be getting my birthday off like I hoped, but that's ok. My co-worker's Mom is sick, and she has to fly home. It'll just be me and the dolts next week. I'll have to savor the rest of this afternoon. And yes, I'm leaving before 6 pm. In fact, I'm leaving at 5:25 with everyone else.

Pbbbbbthhhhbbbbttt on them.

This temperamental side...

Me and Them. A continuing thought.

Well, my punk-trip-hop weirdness continues. I can’t really listen to soul if I’m going to come back to life. It’s too mellow. I need to be in fighting mode. Hard to do when you get as little sleep as I do.

I can say I’m gathering my mavericks together to rile, inspire, and rustle me up into some livable state of mind. What the hell have I turned into? A shade of pale I don’t recognize. I read somewhere that if you want to feel powerful, you have to believe you’re effective in some small form. God knows I’m not effective in this place, other than to make money for other people, so I’ve got to start the good fight in other areas of my life. Could this possibly translate?

The weekends of sleeping waaaay too late have to end. I have to wake up LITERALLY and see what the hell I can do. I’m looking for signs, kiddies. Anything to tell me I’m on the right track. It’s the only way. I glean no clues from the soft complacency of my bedsheets. I remember nothing useful other than a few laughs from those who are no longer in my life. They failed, quit, gave up. I will not. I cannot. I refuse.

What is it….I’m trapped in a job I hate, but I realize I’m also trapped in a body I hate, too. Or should I say “has come to hate me?” Fibromyalgia’s got an emotional connection—at least some researchers believe that—and I have certainly been all over the place emotionally in the last few years. Am I noticing that I have to slow down because I spent so many years on Warp 5? And, is my massive weight gain a contributing cause or is fibro a result? What if I decided to hone my body as much as I’ve worked on my thoughts? My words? What would I have to do….more than a diet. Body/mind stuff is definitely outta whack with me lately. Really and truly. Or I wouldn’t feel like this.

"But my critics are my critics, and I can't change anyone's mind about me except my own...But for now, my critics can eat it." One of Johnny’s better quotes. I love him. Completely. And I understand what he means, too.

What if I am my own critic? What if I just need to get out of my own way?

Oh god, where do I begin…

At least I’ll only be a palindrome for one more week. 34= 3+4, which is seven. A good number. Preceded by a lunar eclipse, the kind feared by many.

Let’s see what happens.

Dana Reeve, Kirby Puckett, and ???

Well, it always happens in threes. Let's see who the other person is. Aha! Iceman, that colorful HBO-covered killer, Richard Kuklinski. Just caught it on CNN. We can all go back to our regularly scheduled programming!

Meg and Kathy Searle, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! It's a biggie for Meg, thanks for your continued zaniness and support. All the birthday cards I saw really stunk, I'm still on the hunt. Flowers and Raccoon Hallmark fuzziness just don't cut it.

In other news, the inevitable happened last night: I said to myself, "When am I going to escape the Academy?" Then I gasped in horror and stood still for a moment. Yup, this place has now become as bad as that place. AND THAT WAS REALLY BAD.

Dysfunctional, overrun with ineptitude, firing the wrong people, keeping the assholes, and generally turning to toxic dust.

So, I sit here, having just burned London Calling since Joe Strummer might be the only person able to cradle my aching soul. I cannot keep my nose to the grindstone or I will have no face. I do not care about this place, its people or what happens here. I am overworked, tired, and underpaid. I am stressed out, fucked up, broken and half-dead. PRAYERS, KIDDIES! I NEED PRAYERS!!! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!

There. That felt good.

I'm serious about the prayer, though. There's some serious obstacles in my way. It's gonna take a miracle to move it all aside to let me in. I'm running out of rosaries.

And next week, there's a lovely little lunar eclipse between my birthday and mom's. A little fishywitchiness is in order I think...

Bokey Cheeky Zeebahs!

No, I'm not on thorazine. Not yet, anyway.

The title of today's post stems from more idiotic emails from Pinochet. Broken words, bad spelling, punctuation worthy of a special ed student on three tabs of acid. When e.e. cummings did this, it was poetic license. When Pinochet does it, it's a startling reminder of how stupid Bag O'Rocks really was to choose this person. Maybe Aoffe wanted more money? This place ain't gonna pay anyone who stands up for themselves. Another idiotic decision. People remember so many of them when it comes to Mr. O'Rocks. More and more speculation about the supposed "retirement" comes out--was this person really of age or was it You're-Old-Enough-and-We've-Paid-You-Enough-NOW-GO? Makes ya think, don't it.

In perfect killer timing, I zapped KJou an email reminding him of the classic Saturday Night Live skit about Tonto and Frankenstein singing Christmas carols and the giggles began. We Wish. You. Merry Chris. And. Hahh. Peeh. Year. Top it all off with yesterday's installment of that funky comic Pearls Before Swine and you have not only delirious laughter and a brilliant analogy, but a pathetic example of how far this place has fallen. Pinochet would never have made it past a receptionist when I arrived due to poor communication skills, but oh, how things change! Now it would be me not able to get in the door. Why? My intensity, intelligence, news background, college degree and general sense of worthiness more than the current rubles they're paying me. (Rubles are still worthless in Russia, dontcha know.)

How do you run a company into the ground? Exemplify the phrase, "You get what you pay for." You don't want to pay? Then you get mediocre garbage. And isn't it lovely...I just heard Sad Sack wants to train another person up here on this shit system "Just in case someone's out." Would that be me with my horrid unpredictable fibromyalgic splendor or because of Pinochet's evil spawn? A loaded gun dipped in avian flu spores would not get these cheap bastards to hire a temp. Vice Presidents need $200,000 a year. Just dump the work on someone else's desk. If they drop dead, the cleaning crew will vacuum the maggots. Oh dear God deliver me from this place!

And Mercury's in retrograde--that means everything, oh everything, will be weird, funky, displaced and generally screwy through March 25. Isn't that fun? And there's a lovely full moon between my mother's birthday and mine, right in the middle.

But black humor will save me. Like in yesterday's comic strip, I am the zebra trying to escape the crocodiles (crockydiles as they say it LOL.) And the crockydiles shout out "Kill all dee Zeebahs!" **crockydile accent**

KJou is now rolling on the floor. And Bokey Cheeky is the Crockydile way of saying Boca Chica.

Yes, it's been a wacky day!