PASSION

No, this is not about Mel Gibson, fruit or Liz Taylor perfume. This is about seeing those around me missing the one thing I still have.

PASSION.

In the searing heat of this past Saturday, I decided to not risk a severe sunburn. So, I stayed in. Good idea. I watched the news tell me that the heat index reached over 100 degrees. Lobsters are nice in Maine. However, I'm in Brooklyn and don't need to resemble one.

I sat in my living room, cool as a cucumber, and decided to do the three things I can't stand: 1) sort through my junk mail; 2)write out checks to those that don't do e-commerce; 3) balance my bank statements. Ick, Bleah, and Arrrggh! It took 4 hours, but I did it. Now all I need is stamps, some twine to recycle the junk mail, and about 1 more hour to file the bank statements.

In the middle of this, I was watching some useless infomercials. Dumb, dumb...buy this...we'll promise you...it's great...changed my life...wow...blah, blah, blah. Then, in typical style, I flipped over to HSN. Was my favorite fossil around? Could I see some hilarious presentation of yet another product I don't need? But, of course, darlings. Wei East was on. For those of you that don't know her, she's a charming Chinese woman whose English is not so great, but she hawks great stuff. Stuff like white lotus, chestnut, green tea. Chinese herbs saved me in 1992 when I had chronic fatigue syndrome, so I kept watching. I'd never paid attention to her before, but I was up to my neck in ripped envelopes. It seemed like a nice diversion. Chinese herbs? In a skin care line? What's all this about...

Well, as I've said before, it's not the messenger sometimes, it's the MESSAGE. A caller from (where else?) New York City called in and spoke to Wei. The caller basically said that she didn't buy the products because they worked. She bought them because Wei impressed her so much. "You have passion for what you do, and that matters." I smiled. Wei answered that she loves what she does and stands behind it since her family used these same products years ago and they all look stunningly beautiful. Not once did I hear the words "young", "anti-aging", "youthful" or "glow." She stuck to the formulations of what she does and how Western dermatology blends well with gels, creams, and plants. Nifty. And yes, I bought a starter kit. $20. Trial sized. Hey, I'm 34, and scared of leaving the house on a sunny day. Either I'm a vampire or just getting vain, but Wei knows what works. She cares about what she does. She went on to say that you must love your work. Be the best at something. If you love it, you need to know it. I can certainly understand that. Even if her accent threw me off, she was adorable!

Imagine that...the same things I rant and rave over every day is basically putting $$$ in this woman's company. Good for her, I say.

In contrast, I got a phone call this morning from someone whose vacations keep getting interrupted by someone here on this floor. It seems HE doesn't do much, even when he's supposed to. Passion or pass-the-buck? I'll take passion, thank you very much. Do as I say, not as I do. Well, that's not really something I care to remember, kiddies.

And three companies called me for yet another round of interviews this week. Looks like I'll be ironing some soft summer shirts and my nifty black pants. I must impress! They contacted me, I did no looking. One is media, the other is advertising. I'm excited!!!!

Oh, and Kashi the Bratling turned 4 yesterday. We had chicken pounce treats and I put ice cubes in her water dish. Dexter was jealous, but what else is new? Muffin slept all day. Wish I could have done the same...

Now This I Enjoy.......

Some observers have expressed derisive opinions about Guy Boos, a Wisconsin man who hurled his washing machine down a flight of stairs and pumped it full of bullets with his .25-caliber gun. I, on the other hand, admire those who take out their frustration and rage on inanimate objects rather than on animals or other human beings. That's why I advise you to consider Boos' methodology if you find yourself on the verge of boiling over, Pisces. Don't repress your negative feelings, but find a way to express them that doesn't cost you anything more than a little money.

Courtesy of Rob Breszny, my favorite astrologer. In fact, it's right in line with what happened last night: I forgot my cell phone at work. That's a bit rotten because I use the "alarm" feature as my morning clock. The beep is strong enough to get me out of bed and it has a 10-minute snooze feature rather than the standard 7 or 9 minutes. The current piece o'crap my mom's former friend regifted to me no longer works. So, off to Duane Reade I go.

I find a clock I like with big red digital numbers. And then I realize something...when was this other clock made? I flip over the bottom. "Sept 1994" and the serial number. She gave it to me USED in 2001 when I moved into my apartment. How sweet. I unplug it and dump it in the hall. I'm not going to wreck my own floor by hurling it, I'll save that for garbage time!

I awake to the glorious sound of a radio--CD 101.9. It's nice to hear Najee. The new clock is clear, loud, and the snooze was a perfect 9 minutes. I poured a cuppa joe and looked at the rejected plastic lump with a smirk on my face.

I got dressed, fed the fuzzy monsters (cats, for those of you who don't speak "Annie"), and grabbed the garbage. The plastic reject was in the bag.

IT MADE A THUD WHEN I HURLED IT INTO THE TRASH. The back of it snapped off. Good. Now it's dead, headed for a land heap, and that fat demon from hell no longer has any of her regifted objects in my apartment. HA!

I'm sure Breszny would be proud of me.

And I pet a black cat up the block before I got on the train. Nasty to object, kindness to living things. A good lesson indeed.

What a headache

That's really all I have to say. More downsizing is about to begin. We are about to lose (if my soothsaying ways are correct, which is usually 90% of the time) another coworker. A good one. A god-fearing one. One I've come to enjoy, trust and love. Of course.

The miserable bald snake bastard continues to annoy. I had no sleep last night. I skated this morning, a change for me. I am tired, exhausted.

Malan's website isn't too bad. The controversial Runway decision endures. That's judging for ya. Happens in figure skating all the time.

Well, no one's here today. I'm scooting out very soon. Tired, tired, tired I am.

Wendy, Santino and Angela

Sigh....

Project Runway has done it again: in their quest to "create" drama, Malan was voted off. I've been too busy to blog about it, but it's still annoying me.

Let's recap: Vincent (who's funny and nuts) and Angela (who DOESN'T sketch, don't ask me why) were paired on episode 2's challenge. They had to team together to create a pageant gown for Miss USA. Gowns basically make or break you in Pageant Land, so this was a pretty hefty challenge. Long story short: Kayne & Robert had the winning gown. Vincent and Angela were at loggerheads since 1) Vincent really didn't know how to work with another person, and 2) Angela had nothing to do with the concept, color, feel or creation of the gown and denounced it while actually doing NO work.

Interestingly enough, in the middle of all of this, Malan and his partner actually got much done. In fact, the only thing that didn't work was the length and the bodice color, which was chocolate brown (well, on my t.v. it was.)The bottom was a bronze-y sienna, which matched Miss USA's skin tone and hair quite well. Though heavily rouched, but very curvaceous, it struck me as a solid design that got squashed due to PR's extreme time restraints. Bummer. It had a strong feel, was very couture, though perhaps a bit "winter" and not really "pageant." I'm not one who believes in ingratiating an audience, but that's usually what pageants are all about. They must fawn, keel and drool for the judges. That aesthetic probably doesn't jive with Malan, but I don't blame him. In fact, I agree.

A strong design should bring the eye forward, and Vincent's gown didn't do that. Angela didn't believe it did, either, but then again this is a person who designs without sketching (something Chloe Dao did, and she's last year's winner.) Angela wanted to pair with Kayne during the sketch time, who was clearly annoyed and he chose Robert, whose chic Barbies I actually own. $300, much bickering and two days later, the end result was Vincent's spring green Judy Jetson "exercise". My opinion? Cute back, strange "curled" sleeves and a nice A-line train, but nothing to celebrate. Malan's gown had an unfinished hem and was a bit puffy on top, but he did manage to work with his partner nicely and executed something very similar to the sketch. If the color choice had been different and more time allotted, the execution might have been very different. Heidi, Vera Wang (with whom I've skated) and Nina did their thing, and then? It's Malan and Angela on the runway.

My god what an easy choice! Angela did no work, what the hell is she doing there? Buh bye.

So I wait and the "auf weidersehen" goes to.....MALAN.

I hurled my remote clear across the room. Thank god it landed on my chair, it would have shattered had it hit the wall. I was furious. Hurt. Insulted. Cheated. Belitted. Bewildered. Pissed. Confused. Like it happened to me.

I've always thought reality tv is a bit of fluff, but after two seasons of PR I'm emotionally involved. This was BEYOND a slight, it was calculated and I'm certain: THEY WANT RATINGS. Buzz is buzz, but this is a travesty. And I truly wonder if Michael Kors not being there had anything to do with it. I love Vera, we've spoken a few times at Rockefeller Center (I gave her daughters skating lessons 10 years ago), and I trust her judgment, but this was a slap in the face to a very strong designer. Go see Malan's website--the clothes are PRISTINE. True, he turned down last season after being chosen, but revenge? I don't think PR would do that. They let Daniel back in after being voted off season 1's first episode and he made it to season 2's fourth episode. Will Malan come back for Season 4? That is, IF there's a season 4. This decision has pissed off PLENTY of people, and might just wreck PR's credibility.

Yes, I'll still watch but I don't know what to cheer now. I thought PR coming on during what is a very humid and icky summer would make me happy, but now I'm just...feh. About the whole thing. I'm not happy. I can only imagine what Malan feels like. I even put up a comment on his blog, something I wouldn't normally do. I haven't emailed anyone I don't personally know since Johnny Weir in 2004, and everyone knows how much I adore him. We even met, and that day is still precious in my mind. Malan's in Long Island City, my mom's old neighborhood. I hope he shows somewhere. I'll be sitting in the front row waiting for that devilish grin.

Reality tv really does have its head up its ass. (Even if these people do know how to sew.)

Whatever...

Vindication

Remember that old Carly Simon song, "Anticipation"? Just put the word 'vindication' in there and that's the tune I'm singing!

Once again, I've been proven right. That's the great thing about Mercury in retrograde--all the people you've known in your past squeak out of the woodwork and tell you things you need to know, but never expected.

As I suspected, Sad Sack and his Merry Band of Morons (yes, I'm still suffering at this job, but another interview's on the way next week) are basically going behind my back in order to "speed" things along. These are the same twits that told me one year ago I was going too fast and making mistakes. One set of rules for them, another for me. As usual--the story of my life! I'm also beginning to realize that Sad Sack and the dictator are in league with each other and will do anything to avoid me. Why? I follow policy, the rules, the way things are done properly. I am not interested in ego gratification, bullshit or bowing down. I get down on my knees for NO ONE, not even with a gun to my head. Fuck you and fuck you.

Another suspicion came true, as well. Former acquaintances and those they denied loving/flirting/screwing/dating/using were doing all the above and more. Lots of money down the drain and poof! They disappear. No money, no love. I don't love you, I don't need you. Translation? I CAN'T USE YOU. Just like I thought! Reminds me of past "friends", now that I think of it. In fact, they're still that way, but after many kids, there's nowhere to go but down. Oh, I'm loving this.

Our newbie who replaced Pinochet is catching up quite nicely and coming to me with plenty o'questions that would have never been answered since IT didn't have the answers despite "knowing it all." Almost all the filing, paper, clutter, mess and legal junk has been done, noted, signed and ready for closing. And all since the middle of May. IT's been here for one year and has done....socializing, proselytizing, sneering, bitching, ratting out people to their bosses and domineering (verb, not noun.) It spawned this past weekend on what would have been Thelma's 61st birthday. Thelma would have said, "Oh, that's DEEP." I can hear her voice and feel her rolling her eyes. God, I miss that woman!

And that's that, for now. The heat index on the East coast is set to soar to about 105 degrees today, so sunscreen, hats, umbrellas and ice cubes are the way to go, kiddies!

Ta ta , la la and ha ha ha...

Swimming in Soup

Soupy weather, that is. It's a swamp out there! I've taken to showering at night to get the grimy gunk off, but I still didn't fall asleep until 2 am last night. Yeeeesh. Old habits are coming back to haunt me.

Here's an interesting thing: Benadryl no longer has any effect on me. It stops my allergies, but no longer puts me to sleep. That's what those sleeping pills have done to me. Benadryl is like tic tacs. Good God, am I turning into Joey Heatherton? I hope not. My A/C didn't kick in as strong as I'd like it, but the room was cool last night. Cats on my head, as usual. Will I ever stop loving these little furry creatures? They just fascinate me.

The verdict is in: that week off definitely gave me perspective. While the humidity is still swelling my limbs like sausages, I do feel better. I've got to do things at my own pace, for my own reasons. It's the only way. I am not going to make anything better by getting angry at it. I cannot change a dysfunctional company. More admins and execs are leaving in droves. It's an exodus, plain and simple. In one hour, the quarterly "update" meeting will take place. That gives me time to update my web profiles on about 5 sites. Good! It gives me something to do. Other than all this paper work, of which I could care less.

We're full swing into retrograde, so it's going to be wacky. I'm taking it slow. The universe will straighten itself out, so I will go with the flow. At least, that's what I keep hearing should be done.

Judika Illes got back to me today. I'm surprised it was so fast. She wrote a few books on women's spirituality, herbalism, and pagan rites around the world that captivated my attention. Her website also features a very Dexter-esque black fuzzball which made me smile. We nutty cat ladies must band together. She's in NJ and I'm going to meet her. I know it. I want to discuss her books, which now take up a lot of my reading. It's either that or reality tv, which makes me gag.

Tonite's premiere episode of Project Runway is all I'm waiting for. I'm rooting for the redhead with five children. She seems sassy. That Scottish-accented guy looks like a piece of work, but I love the mischief in his laugh. There's a story behind those eyes. But hey, we all need a Wendy Pepper and a Santino to get the show rolling. I still adore Nick Vereos. His Barbie is featured prominently in Toys R Us. I must get one.

Well, the haze is getting thicker and thicker out there. I wonder if it'll thunderstorm later today. I hope so. This humidity is unbearable.

Now the big question: can I bribe Dexter to blog? He's just sooo attached to the sparrows across the window. Lazy fatboy.

Garde L'Esprit

Well, it's clear Pinochet is a complete and utter nightmare. I will not let this get to me. After screaming at the temp and freaking out that a few people were not here yesterday, IT (as I will now refer to Pinochet, the genderless monster) does not realize how much a fool it has been made. It does not see that to do these assholes's bidding, it is not liked, trusted or even listened to. This reminds me of the classic four-year old throwing a tantrum. Given the amount of children I have rid myself of over the last five years, here's another I will add to my list. Shameful, puckish behavior. Plain and simple.

Why, oh WHY have I been bending over backwards for these people? They just take, take, take. Well, fuck them all. Now it's my turn. To stop giving. I will do what I have to and nothing more. Really and truly.

I feel rejuvenated and alive after not being here for a week. True, I didn't get to do a few things I wanted with my time off, but I needed the rest. I needed to sleep late, clean up my apartment, spend time with some friends and my cats, and talk hourly with my mother on the phone each day. Maybe we haven't always gotten along, but I need to start working on that. She is the last remaining family member and I need to come to terms with my frustrations and her limitations. Neither one of us is perfect. More importantly, neither one of us HAS to be. Ever.

Doesn't look like Crain's is going to take me, so let's see about the Limited. And of course, let me get some coals burning in the fire. Yes, it's summer, but I can't give up. I will let nothing get in my way. I've fully realized it doesn't matter whether I take a two hour lunch to go on an interview, no one's watching anyway. My paranoia has left me. I will do what I have to get out. On my terms.

In other news, KJou went to Lush products! He was very giggly and happy with his new purchases. That place is addicting, I swear.

Mercury's in retrograde for this month, kiddies, so take it slow. It's not good to push too hard, start anything new, sign contracts or undertake huge projects. It's a time of reflection, "cleaning" out the old, and appreciating what you have. A fine meditation indeed.

I Choose to Stand and Fight

Well, I'm back at my desk, TONS of admins are leaving. Snarky's leaving the company, I found out and the state, too. HA! Everyone will disappear. Pinochet's not coming back until October, which gives me plenty of time to seek a job in peace, not torpor. IT screamed at the temp who replaced me last week. Evil is as evil does. She sounded horribly bemused at hearing my voice because it knows I won't take any crap like that. My other two are happily on vacation. Good for them. We all deserve a break. This place is falling apart rapidly.

No communication, bullshit politics, long hours, too much paper, too much work, not enough pay...it's a glorified zoo. Don't FEED the ANIMALS!

I feel vindicated, justified, fulfilled. I will survive, I am competent, I will get out. My renewed vengeance is to smirk and scheme. I remember a girl named Salene Parnese and her friend Marisa in my high school had a joke going for almost their entire high school existence, "Let's SCHEME." They would whisper it to each other in gruff voices and then cackle like maniacs. Salene and Marisa? I'm borrowing your phrase.

Nuttiness abounds in other areas, too: Becks stepping down as captain? Brazil NOT winning this past weekend? Oh, that's right. Mercury's in retrograde. Things are about to get really, really weird.

And Johnny Weir and Lindsay Lohan had a shared birthday yesterday! Happy cake and cookies, you two....

Well, I'm off like a dirty shirt. Let's see what the 4th holds.