Shanghei Sick Day

Hung Chow calls into work and says,

"Hey, boss I no come work today, I really sick.
Got headache, stomachache and legs hurt, I no come work."

The boss says,
"You know something, Hung Chow, I really need you today.
When I feel like this, I go to my wife and tell her to give me sex.
That makes everything better and I go to work. You try that."

Two hours later Hung Chow calls again.
"Boss, I do what you say and I feel great.
I be at work soon......... And Boss?...You got nice house."

Lock up Your Children

Yes, it's true: DUBYA'S COMIN' TO TOWN

Several people have asked me if I can get them tickets i.e. front row seats. You would have been proud of the skill I used when witholding the derisive snorts of comtempt. "Ah, no... don't think I can help you with that one..." Another friend asked me if that was me he saw on the 6PM news, standing in line at the Chamber of Commerce to get tickets for Dubya's visit. I simply replied, "No, that was some other incredibly hot chick--- I was too busy to stand in line."

I try to keep this blog non-partisan, but I personally can't wait until the Prez exits town Wednesday afternoon, so that things can get back to normal. When the front page of the local paper touts his visit as the headline FIVE DAYS IN A ROW, it's time to get the visit over with already. 'Nuff said.

UPDATE: Make that SIX days of front-page headlines. He didn't get this much coverage when he came to town on the campaign trail 2 years ago ~

Stay Away from Me Lucky Charms!

I had one hell of a great day yesterday, and I thought I would share.

On my way to work I stopped through the old office to chat with boss-man briefly. He gave me a big smirk and told me he had "news" to share. The first bit was that I am FINALLY GOING TO GET A NEW COMPUTER!!!!!! It is supposed (barring the computer guy forgetting where we work again and delivering the machines to the Ice plant down the street) to arrive some time next week. This news is great because 1) I can start working from my new office again instead of taking up space in another generous office, and 2) I can get back to regular blogging-- yay!!!

The second bit of good news was that one of the widgets I used to work with has FINALLY resigned after almost 7 years there (6 years, eleven months and 29 days too late, if ya follow). Her brand of mental midgetry is pretty damn special if I do say so...

Third great thing when I received the gift certificate for two four-day passes to Jamboree in the HIlls-- marketed as "The Super Bowl of Country Music". Now, even if you're NOT country music fans, let me mention that it's held in an outdoor venue in July-- meaning 80,000 men and women of all description wearing as little as possible & drinking as MUCH as possible for the 3 days leading up to the event, the 4 days of, and as long as it takes to pack up and leave the festival site afterwards. I've always wanted to go, but never had a group of associates to attend with-- it ain't the sort of thing a good girl attends without backup, a-ight? You might be seeing pictures posted from the event of Mother Melonie and Wahwer wearing our skimpiest Daisy Dukes & tube tops, carrying beer in coozies and wearing really sassy cowgirl hats (see image above). Um, yeah...

Anyhow, it was a doozie of a day-- and all of this good news came before 9:30 in the morning. Woo-HOOOO!

Rainy Days and Sundays

Melancholy, n., pl. -ies. 1. a gloomy state of mind; dejection. -adj. 2. affected with melancholy; depressed. 3. causing melancholy

Don't be concerned by the opening to this post-- I am not sliding into a decline, wallowing in my sorrows or basking in an abyss of depression. But rainy March weekends do tend to make me go a bit broody.

Let's wade into the soup, shall we?

For several days I've been bracing myself for a hellish week of work and commitments that I shudder to contemplate. I looked at the calendar Friday, shook my head in disbelief and asked myself how in the name of all that's holy did all of this shit land on my plate during THE SAME DAMN WEEK?

I won't bore you with details (there ain't a thing happening that will spark much interest). The issue is that all of this comes flying at me during the third week of every month and should not still suprise me. It's been like this for several years now, and yet each month I'm dumbstruck when I see the meetings and obligations start stacking up like flights into Pittsburgh International. I tremble to think how I'll get everything accomplished. I wallow and whinge for days, and then the week comes and I survive as usual and soon I'm glaring back, wondering "what was I so worried about?"

Part of the angst I could blame on the new job. After several false starts (i.e. no internet in my office for the first six weeks; computer melt down for the past two weeks), I'm finally settling into my new role. Knowing that I'm still very much in probation mode is what's got my knickers in a twist. At least I've decided that it really was a wise decision to take the leap that I did-- to leave a job that I had slaved over for six years, but which was steadily being eliminated by under-appreciative new management. Mind you, opting to leave the mental midgets who were my co-workers was no great sacrifice. In the 2 1/2 months since I left, not ONE of them has made the effort to cross the bloody street to visit me at the new office. I worked with some of those widgets for the entire six years, yet not one can bring themselves to walk the 250 yards between spaces to stumble in and say hello (I don't give a rat's ass if they congratulate me-- I haven't done anything yet worth genuine praise-- and I'm way too busy to miss their annoying company). So I think you can understand why I shed no tears at my departure & had to resist doing the Kiss-My-Ass Tango (it's all the rage) as I boogied my office equipment out the door in January. The issue here is that I don't know what I did / not do to / for these people that they cannot take five minutes of their time for me. ME!!! I am, after all, the alpha and omega.

The main reason the word melancholy jumped into my brain today was spending time with my mother. We've become leagues closer in the years since my father passed away, and yet there are still countless times when we spend an afternoon together and I feel like I'm logging time with a stranger. How is that possible? That before she and I turned towards each other in our common grief I felt that I had a legitimate grasp on who my mother is at the end of the day. Maybe it was youthful naivete, believing that there was any way to fully encapsulate the essence of another. But it had my head (and heart) in a muddle, thinking about how out of touch we have become. We've joked for years that if there are two different ways to approach any given subject, that Mom and I will always be on opposing teams. Since my childhood she would accuse me of being obstinate, of willfully choosing another path to conflict with her perspective. Thankfully, time has taught us that we simply have divergent thought processes. And as I mentioned in my recent post about my father, she and I have also learned that "different is not necessarily wrong-- it's just DIFFERENT."

The melancholy sprang from knowing that in all liklihood we never WILL see things the same way. I remembered back to the months following my father's death when I would cry and ask myself: Why did I have to lose the one who understood me? I never wished my mother gone. But it was terribly frustrating to my 21-year-old mind to believe that the person who understood me unfailingly was permanently unavailable for consult & that the remaining parent tended to wear a martyred expression whenever we spoke, possibly hoping some celestial Dummies Guide to Wise Ass Daughters would fall from the sky and land on her doorstep.

So I spent some time brooding. Not long, but long enough to be reminded that there is no easy way to make people understand you. My former coworkers have their merits (some moreso than others), but they are also DIFFERENT from me. And while I could choose to feel hurt by their perceived rejection, I've decided to let go of them. I know I can't sever ties completely (I have to walk by / through their office daily, and the old boss is one of my new triumverate of bosses). I can't make them understand Me any better than I can hope to understand them and their motivations. What I can do is remind myself: Their shit is their shit, and my shit is mine. I have to keep focusing on making myself a better person, and not get mired in their frailties as I walk my journey.

Their shit is their shit, and my shit is mine.

Reincarnation

I've decided that this temporary lack of computer / internet access is in fact someone's way of saying, "Wahwer-- take these forty days of Lent as a time to reflect." In church we were taught that the season of Lent is much like a spiritual desert-- a time to prepare yourself for Christ's death and resurrection, a time to reflect (and repent) for the sins of the past year and get yourself ready to begin anew. We believe that this renewal can be found through introspection, personal inventory, self-sacrifice and a willingness to live a better, more gratitude-driven life.

Um... did I just wax Catholic on ya? Lo siento mucho...

In an effort to follow the preceding path of redemption, I decided to visit the following link in an effort to find out who I really am...

REINCARNATION

Yes, this basically means I am promoting a theory that the Pope does not endorse. But in my scientific mind (long at war with my religious training and the dogma therein) really likes the idea that we were all "someone else, somewhere else" before our present manifestation. How else can we explain those bits of knowledge and understanding that cannot be validated by experience or training in this life? And who wants to believe that, once we die, we spend our eternity loafing around Heaven re-stringing harps and fluffing clouds? Mind you, I can think of lots of other ways less preferable to wait out the Endtime... But being the co-dependent person I am, I find it hard to imagine that once I die I will never again get to help another human being- EVER.

My results were the following:

Your past life diagnosis:
I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.

You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Scotland around the year 1475.

Your profession was that of an artist, a magician or fortune teller.

Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
As a natural talent in psychology, you knew how to use your opportunities. Cold-blooded and calm in any situation.

The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
The timid, lonely and self-confident people are everywhere, and your task is to overcome these tendencies in yourself and then to help other people.

Some who know me would say this was spot-on accurate-- I've always had as many male friends (if not more) than female, I'm an artist (of sorts), and I am driven to help. Anyone who also knows me knows that I've been itching to get to Scotland FOR YEARS... Pining for the homeland, eh? All this time I thought it was just because my last name is Stewart. Who knew?

Thanks to Moogie for posting this :-)

Temporary Hiatus

or..... why I might not be posting for a while :-(

Tried to load some new software on my work PC and caused it to go into a complete tailspin. I have a techie person looking at it tomorrow, but it may need a transfusion-- or even downright replacement (if bosses can be convinced). Stay tuned, my faithful readership!

UPDATE: According to Mircha, my Rumanian tech-guy, he's been able to re-install (please, no comments) Windows 98. But for now my six years of documents and images are still floating in space. He's working vigilantly to recover them, so hopefully by sometime next week I'll be back in business again... Mircha was so sweet-- when I told him one of the bosses offered to buy me a new tower if the old one was kaput, he gave me an ornery grin and said, "You want I lie??"
I'll keep you posted.