Well, Snorino's Over

Feh.

I watched so much of the Olympics, and I gotta tell ya I'm BORED. It just didn't get me this year. Even the aerials which Dexter and I love so much.

As for the classic tales of rhinestone abuse, this games's winner is Galit Chait, the ice dancer. Go back and look at the free dance tape, kiddies: she had blue rhinestones GLUED TO HER FOREHEAD. I looked and said, "Hmmm...could those be sparkling measles? Exotic freckles? NOOOO...OH MY GOD." She puts ballroom dancers to shame. First rule of Rhinestones: sparingly, always on costumes, and if on body? Near the eyes or in the hairpiece ONLY. Not to mention her partner looks like Nosferatu....no wonder they protested in 2002 Worlds. Bronze medal my ass, they were being generous even back then.

I can live with Sasha getting the silver, but I expected Irina to pull out all the stops. She's 27 and this is her last Olympics for sure. Arakawa bores me to death, always has. I'm just not impressed. That little Georgian kid set the place on fire, I'll be looking for her at Worlds.

I continue to adore and worship Johnny Weir. He's just the most colorful, intelligent talent since Toller Cranston, hands down. This kid's got a book in him and I can't wait for him to write it. No one thought Toller had anything that could be published, and he's had 4 best sellers since 1975! Toller painted with brushes, Johnny paints with clothing. I love him. There's nothing else to say.

In other exciting news, Verizon knocked out my phone line accidentally, which is why I haven't been blogging lately. 3 days without service and I had to rely on my cell--thank god--all the while. What can I do? It finally popped back on this afternoon.

The job hunt's heating up, too. Insight Communications wants me back for #2 this week, IMG's looking to make a decision on where to put me, and Decorum Consulting contacted me. My stack of "Leaving the Company" notices is up to an inch thick. The latest loss? Gisele Page, a savvy and sassy chick from Flatbush. We bitched happily during the School Bus Adventure that was the MTA strike in December. I think that's what put her over the edge, too. She realized that it's what you can do for this place Today, not Tomorrow, that counts. They also had her on call 24/7 for systems that are constantly breaking down. Why? 1--everyone's leaving and dropping their work in other's laps, and 2--the systems are antiquated. You go, Gisele! I'm sure we'll run into each other on Church Avenue.

This place is going to shit and I'm lovin' it!!!!

Let's see how Insight #2 goes....stay posted, kiddies!

Snarky's Machine

No, not SHARKY'S machine, Snarky's. Bag O'Rock's sequel. Moving away and no longer looking over my shoulder. Whatta relief!

Yes, Meg, I'm still surrounded by idiots. Some of 'em are moving on, which makes me happy. LOVED the card, got it last night. And there's plenty of "dog" people around here, too. They view me as the Crazy Cat Lady. I think I'll go chuck hairballs at them...

Surprise, surpise! Baldo continues to push people out by not showing them a whiff of consideration. As predictable, he's not here. He never comes in the Friday before a holiday since the office closes 2 hours early. Hey, that's a deeper breath for me. I like three days off. Three more days I ain't here to deal with these twits. Pinochet continues to annoy, and is overstepping massive boundaries by bossing the tech people around. Sing it with me Patti Lupone-style...Don't Cry at all when she's fired! A kick in the ass is coming... To quote Dexter, I kill me, I swear!

Tuesday is another interview! Communications company. The Sr. VP of marketing and project planning needs some help. Sounds good. I'll steam press my lovely suit with my adorable iron I got for Christmas and see how this goes. ABC wanted me there from 9-7 with mandatory overtime. Um, NO. I am not traveling from the upper west side at 8 or 9 pm at night only to get up at 6 am and do it again day after day. Nope, sorry, no wonder the current employee's leaving. I am also doing a yippee skippee happy dance over my new coffee grinder. I don't even have to drink any coffee, I just sniff the velvety crushed grounds and my brain smiles awake. Heaven in a cup!

Tomorrow I'm off to a blood test to check how my liver, sugars, and lipids are doing and then I'm posting mega MEGA items on eBay. I've got too many damn books and makeup samples. I'm sure either college kids or housewives in the midwest would love this stuff. Besides, I need the money. My tax refund came in and it's like bran--it goes IN, and now it's going OUT. Ho hum.

But first, a quick spin this afternoon at a public session. I got to watch the men's event last night since my fellow gossip maven had an "event" at Chelsea Piers. I would have loved to see him this morning, but I'm glad I got to see the whole competition. Johnny missed a jump, but overall gave a good performance and ended in 5th place. Scott Hamilton came in 5th in his first Olympics (1980) and so did Brian Boitano (1984). They went on to win gold in their second Olympics (1984 & 1988). 2010 is Jwe's year. Plushenko took it all, no surprise there. Lysacek redeemed himself and Shawn Sawyer of Canada was looking really good. Buttle and Lambiel are pleasant to watch. Ice dancing's on tonight. I'm polishing my sunglasses to keep those hideous costumes from blinding me. Does anyone outside of ballroom dancing really know what a rhinestone headache feels like? EEEEK!

Since I did my clothes laundry earlier this week, now I can do the blanket-towel-everything-else laundry tomorrow. I'm probably breathing in little bitty spores. Icky!

Oh, I love days like this....it's slow, no one's here, and no one cares. That last bit never changes, but the other two things are oh SO nice!

The Joys of Hibernation

Ahhh....sleep. The final frontier. I got lots of it this past weekend. If you've noticed, I haven't been blogging lately. That's because I've decided that resting my aching legs and back is more important. Fibromyalgia's made worse by stress, so I'm de-stressing. I try to get up, I really do. But I look at the clock and think, "I did the dishes, I did the laundry, I did the recycling. I can feed the fuzzers, fluff my pillow and go back to sleep."

Someone bitched at me before in the elevator about "Whaddya gettin outta bed for at 10 pm at night?" Um, because I don't answer to you, sweetness? Ahem. I truly hate these people here.

In other news, my beloved Canadian instructor (actually, he's got his US citizenship, but I love those maple leaves, I do) did a happy dance when he found out Kwan backed out of her Olympic spot. We were dishing like two old gossip mavens on Friday night's Opening Ceremonies. It was like watching 'Charades' play out when the group started to make shapes.

"It's a....chicken?", I said.

"No, it's a ski jumper with a flame on its head", he said.

"It's an eagle?", I said.

"No, it's a dove. Or maybe it is a chicken," he said.

We're worse than teenagers yakking it up all the time, even on the ice. He's just too entertaining. Skating's hard work. I need a wacky joke once a day, really.

So, Emily, sister of the reigning Olympic champ will make her debut on practice ice when she arrives on Thursday. This lovely storm guaranteed that no flights were available this weekend. But, oh god, I'm happy. Points for The Skating Club of NY!! Bonnie, her instructor, must be over the moon. She and I haven't really chatted since 1998. Emily was a novice back then.

I also enjoyed the entire 3 hour fashion week coverage on Channel 25, NYCTV. Vivienne Tam, Zang Toi, and Ralph Lauren were just oh SO fabulous! I guess Project Runway has done this to me, but I am really paying attention to the construction of clothes. (I am also painfully reminded that I cannot shop for any on my current salary.) Makes me wanna pull out my dinky little sewing machine and start a "creation." I love Fashion Week, though, in my own little way since it is winter, and they are showing the Fall collections. A lot of belts this year, and a lot of dark green, khaki, chocolate browns, and crushed velvet. Donna Karan's gorgeous gowns really caught my eye, too. There's something about an off-shoulder drape that is so daring in this cold weather. Celebrity Schmebrity, gimme the real fashionistas. This JLO-Beyonce-OOh-Look-at-Me-I-Can-Afford-My-Own-Line crap has to stop. We all know your cutters and seamstresses are in China. Knock it off, already!
I support creativity in any form, and the clothes I saw were definitely it. And please, would someone tell dear Mr. Lagerfeld, to stop using so much black? It looked like a funeral procession. When he wants to lighten things up, he uses navy or gray. There are more colors in the spectrum, Karl! Please, already.

So that was my weekend. Tonight the Pairs long program, and tomorrow the Men's short. Go Johnny Go!!!

Joy

That's what I get from my two Mariahs....one is this fabu Australian mix (yes, I'm still playing Christmas carols) and the other is my waitress down the block. Red hair, freckles, and happens to be living in an apartment that was next to mine, 2E! Her new husband (they were married in Jamaica last month) told off The Senator and his wife, Mr and Mrs Barry. Two people who are sooo fucked up--and they loved to sneer down at me and my parents, naturally.

I told Mariah that truth about him, his rotten childhood (his BIOLOGICAL mommy put him in an orphanage at age 4 because she didn't want him and he was fully aware of this) and that he basically has no humility now because he was humiliated then. He's ashamed of his average children, too, and empty marriage, so the constant push for him to get M and her new hubby to buy what is a shitty apartment in that rotten building is his claim to "power". Like, puhhlease. That building has almost gone into bankruptcy 5 times and the bank owns half of it. I dished all the ugly dirt about him and his hysterectomied wife (the reason she's so miserable) having the knowledge and history of 24 years. Since M is 24, this was news she needed to hear. I told her to hate him all she wants because her life is new, young, fresh and filled with promise. He's just the president of a bank. He wears suits, snobbishly judges people and hasn't cracked a smile since...1982? No matter what, he'll always hate M back. That's how he is. He refuses to say hello to me when I see him. I make it a point to look him dead in the eye and ask him how he is. He can't STAND answering me. I LOVE THIS. Everyone needs an enemy to keep 'em going.

"You just made me feel so much better, " she said.

Good. Glad to be of help. Gotta stop the hating, assholes! We're gonna keep on going.

Joy to the World, indeed.

Don’t Drive Angry

Well, kiddies? It's Groundhog Day! The title of this entry refers to the famous line uttered by Bill Murray in the movie of the same name.

And good news: certain members here will be leaving. Transferring, taking time off, going on leaves of absences for various reasons. It’s oh SO wonderful that my face hurts from smiling. More proof that Baldo is the most horrible boss this place has ever seen. Now some of you reading this have your suspicions. I'll say nothing and let you hear about it "officially." I refuse to wait for "announcements" in the form of websites and intranets I don't have time to view, anyway. Good knowledge in this place needs to be stolen. In Kashi-esque style, my ears point backwards to glean such nuggets while I dutifully type away.

Yesterday was the three-year anniversary of my former boss's untimely death. No one, it seems, remembered. I did of course. I think of him all the time. He was a great person, a great manager, and a genuine mentor for many. Like a good Scorpio, he possessed the incredible insight for strategy and placement. This worked for news, it worked for people. He knew people's talents and where they'd thrive best. His loss was a severe blow to many of us. Baldo pales in his shadow. His lack of dignity and empathy for others are the reason this department has fallen apart steadily since 2003. But what else should we expect from a narcissist? Toxic cockroaches shouldn't deserve anything except to be flat-out poisoned. They benefit no one, except their delusional portrait of themselves.

In other news, ABC news contacted me and a few media companies were impressed by my resume. I took all extraneous titles and assorted gunk out, re-edited it, and made it totally functional. No muss, no fuss, just the facts, ma'am. Why it never occurred to me to format the design in pure news writing style boggles me, but I can say these touchy-feely crappo HR books and Career websites have done nothing except waste my time. I'll do it my way, the right way.

All of this gives me leverage. One of the main sticking points of me trying to survive in this place is the high turnover and "musical chairs" nature since Baldo obviously doesn't give a shit. Now I can point that out plainly and clearly. How am I supposed to stand on solid ground in a department—inside a company, mind you—that resembles tectonic plates? I’m not dumb enough to LIVE on a fault line, let alone work at one. My personal feeling is that these people want to get away and cover it up to make it look like a "career move." Puhhlease. Bad management drives people up the wall, into the wall, and then they drive them AWAY. After the bruises have cleared and the dust has settled.

I'm loving every minute of it. Entropy is the only result with no one steering the ship. I’m not going to wait to crash into the rocks, but I will give an Oscar-worthy performance come "Goodbye" time. That excites me so much, I think I might have to do the Wiggle Dance when I go to lunch.

For those of you that don’t work with me, imagine 15 Janis clones in VP's offices.
Ahh....now you get it, huh? LMAO!!!

Punxsatawney Phil may still feel like winter, but I’m feeling younger than springtime.

Though you don't believe that they do...

They do come true
For did my dreams
Come True
When I looked at you

Ah, Stevie Wonder. Kinkajou saved the day. His name comes from a ridiculous crack we shared over Paris Hilton's latest shoulder "accessory", a tiny brown fuzzy so-ugly-it's-cute animal that I've learned can't be housebroken. Neither can Paris, from what they write.

Another week, another interview. This particular troll asked me "Do you have a problem with diversity?" KJou and another one of my co-workers FELL on the floor laughing. My closest friends AREN'T WHITE. DUHHHH!!!

Let's see...I've dated 2 Haitians, 1 Mulatto (an outdated term, but he and his mom stood by it and they were from Savannah), 3 Jamaicans, various Joses, Juans, and other interesting mutts. One guy was a Pre-fab Keanu--he was Japanese and Jewish. His big joke was that he would open his own restaurant and call it Sosumi (say it a few times, it'll sink in.) Another guy was Korean, Hispanic and Irish. (Kimchee with whisky, anyone?) Um, yeah. I think I have that diversity thingie down. In addition to the various Johnny Goombah wannabes and of course, a few shamrocks thrown in for good measure. Some of 'em had more freckles than I did, now that I think of it.

Silly, silly. This person probably thinks George Clinton is Bill's other brother. HA!

Where does KJou come into this particular entry? Last week, my 1986 tape of Overjoyed, a lush piano gem by Stevie, snapped. What did I expect after playing a TDK cassette constantly for 20 years? I'm surprised it held up that long. Enter KJou, who not only met THE MASTER, but played with Wonder himself. Jou delights in this story. Perfect guy to burn me a new cd of one of my favorite songs, I'll say. It's happily in my RealPlayer, and will be added to my iTunes at home.

And now, for my Joy to the World mix from Paris. (France, not Hilton.) This thing is so rare, it's worth hundreds of dollars. Nothing better than an 8-minute house mix of a great Christmas carol. And I got it for $43! That's cheap, since some guy on amazon.uk wanted $170 for it. Yeesh.

I guess I got lucky.

The Going Home Hour approaches. Thank god. Two days without Pinochet or any of the Twits.

That’s Unamerican

Another coworker and I were busting a gut over the fact that one of the execs resembles Sam the Eagle from the Muppet Show. Avadon (this person deals with photos) stood there as I recounted my email tale. I also mentioned someone who knows policy said such nitpicking is grounds for a lawsuit. ACLU, anyone? NY State Labor board? Eyes rolled, jaws dropped between the both of us as we exchanged horror stories of how it is now and how it used to be. Fish tend to rot from the head down, and this place--even on different floors, I see--is no exception.

The rah rah "We're Part of the Team" bullshit continues. There is a clear distinction between those of us that remember the inner workings of each department and the current dysfunction. The digital team used to consist of many members. Now it consists of 3--just 3 people (all overworked and getting snippier by the minute) to cover international orders, photos, digital things, and domestic papers, including colleges. That's not counting baseball season, which will drop about 400 orders on my head in a space of one week. Who the fuck is going to do this work? Between me and them? That's 5 people. All this for a shit salary and not even a thank you? Oh, I'm gonna explode.

My name appeared courtesy of Vault.com in a recruiters offer from an Info Clearinghouse, so I clicked on the link in my email. It quickly sent me 21 names with mailing labels for $30. Hey, I'm up to my eyeballs in debt anyway, so I grabbed the Visa and signed on. 9 of them are in NYC. That's about $1.75 per name, good deal. Direct recruiters who specialize in headhunting for the fields I want to be in. Great. More emails to send and cover letters to fax out. Fabu!

I'm staring at a sea of empty offices. Two retirees, one who won't be replaced. This company continues to get worse. Who the hell's going to do this work? I predict a future where child labor comes back, but with a twist.

Former middle-class families who are now indentured servants to robber barons will raffle off their children starting from the age of 7 or 8. These children will be allowed to finish high school, but only certain subjects. Given their distinct talents or tendencies, corporations will choose who they want and pay the family directly. Upon graduation, these kids will be carted off to be used as slaves. One graduate will service the needs of about 10 Vice Presidents. One meal per day will be provided, and one bathroom break. The buildings will have no windows, all the air will be filtered in. Reproduction will be planned in a lab. New "children" will be harvested from Petri dishes. The indentured servants will be given a choice of who they'd like to "raise." Bar coding will track everyone. When the slave children reach the age of 40, they can "retire" and find a "family" to build. Life expectancy is greatly reduced since 18 hour days become the norm again. There are no unions. There is no healthcare. Choice means you are free to do as the Barons tell you. The dead are liquified as fuel for the labs and to run the buildings. Fossil fuels have been depleted. Should a slave child die before the age of 40, their "family" must choose again from the lab to restart the process. Drones and clones are what I see.
See what The Matrix does to me? Come on, kiddies, is it really that far from the truth? It's not too farfetched now.

Complacency leads to apathy. Apathy leads to fear. Fear leads to paralysis. Paralysis leads to someone else making your choice. Do you really believe they'd have your best interests? Of course not.

Welcome to the USSA.

You are free.

To Do.

As We Tell You.