Buh-bye

Well, shit. They're gone. I'm sad. It's not going to be the same without them, but that's to be expected, and what an understatement anyway. I only hope that matabang kalabaw has the brains to leave me the hell alone. I am not going to put with her shit. Just pay my contract out and let me go!!!

I watched Buddy and Rosie this weekend. I haven't seen them in so long. They're such adorable little creatures. I love spending time with them. As has been said before, animals really do make a difference to one's state of mind.

I don't have much else. I was disappointed that "Charmed" wasn't on last Thursday. It's on this Thursday, two-hour season premiere. Instead, they showed "The Craft," which was an adequate replacement, I guess. I loved to see Fairuza Balk's character bite it in the end...all locked up and shit. She plays a perfect freak. And they played the Smith's song, "How Soon Is Now," which is the theme to "Charmed," and which I thought was interesting considering the theme of the movie.

That's all. I'm sad. :(

Wedding Bells

I got an invitation for L's wedding. I have been waiting for it for a while now. She told me that she was getting married, and after I picked myself up from the floor, she told me sometime in October. Seeing that it's the First already, I was beginning to wonder if it was on or not. So I mailed my response, and I'm now planning for her Sunday weeding (sic). I wish her all the best. I can't wait to see her dress...and her guest list!

STV was boring tonight, so I didn't watch it (this is how truly exciting my life is). The Vadwar or whatever. Seven thought she was doing the right thing when she woke up that dude after 900 years, and well, whatever. They're kinda boring. Wimpy and out of touch. Go back to sleep.

I'm tired. I've had enough.

Snooze

It is very difficult for me to get up in the morning. I hit the snooze button for at least a half an hour before I wake up. I don't know why. I just resist it all the way around. I feel like I don't want to get up even though I have to get up. I can't remember if I've always been this difficult in the morning, or if it is a product of my recent living situation.

Anyway, this morning, my alarm was set for 0600. The alarm went off, and X had to yell at me to wake up and turn it off. So I hit the snooze. About eight minutes later, the alarm went off again, and so did X. He was a little belligerent. He came knocking on my door, and told me to just get up. "Get up when the alarm goes off. What's the problem? I was finally asleep for once, and now you have to wake me up." In fact, it all made me so mad that I can't remember exactly what he said. I want to live alone. I don't want to share a living space with anyone, ever. It's bloody annoying.

Being Social

Stayed out way too late for a school night. I had drinks with JP and SC last night. We sat at the bar, drank and ate and gossiped for too long. I didn't get home until midnight. And I have a raging headache. I don't want to be here right now, and as it is I'm leaving early around 1530. Going to see Tony Bennett and kd lang. Can't wait for that!!

Had a brief introductory meeting with two new sales reps for Liquent this morning. Had to sit and endure yet another barrage of lies and untruths from Brun Hilda. Matabang kalabaw. Why does she feel like she needs to lie to everyone about all of the things that she's accomplished? She takes credit where credit most certainly is not due, and she harbors a lot of resentment for things that happened three years ago. She brought up some of our issues with the product from three versions back, all of which have been fixed since then. She issues ultimatums like "If we continue to experience the problems with the product that we have had in the past, we will not continue to support it." Bitch hasn't even looked at the product since she's been here. Hasn't even asked for a user account to access it. How the bloody f@ck would she know if the problems had been fixed or not? She's just throwing around her (considerable) weight in a vain attempt to scare off the sales people. It's disgusting. There's another bridge we have managed to rebuild, and while it is still rickety, it's safe enough to cross. All she wants to do is whine and complain and dredge up the past.

She just left with questions about Documentum. Unfortunately, I never fully developed any expertise in that program, so I couldn't help her out. "But it's on your system. Why do you have it?" Well, if you had paid attention in the briefing package, darling, you would know what is going on in your new department. Silly cow. Read, honey, or didn't they teach you that at your last job? I'm so sick of having to support someone who consistantly passes the buck. All she wants to do is delegate. She doesn't want any sort of responsibility for anything. She wants to give it all to her "underlings" and boss them around. What the f@ck???

And that's the other thing. When RJ, DS, and PD left, they gave her (on a silver platter) all of the information that she needed. She didn't have to do a thing. It was all spelled out for her with pretty colour flowcharts and graphs, and in an eighth-grade reading level. She didn't even bother to read it. This information contained updates on our current situation including, but not limited to: system configuration, project management, and budgeting! They gave her everything she could possibly need to know to continue moving forward and she ignored it all, like it was set up with false information so she would fail. I'm sorry, but why go through all of that trouble when she will do it to herself her own way anyway? She's a silly cow. Can't stand it, can't stand it.

A Little Piece of Heaven

Oh my God. Oh. My. God. kd lang was awesome last night. I was literally in tears. She had me bawling like a child. Her voice is so pure, so clear, so strong, and so sweet, I just couldn't help myself. She sang a lot of jazz standards, but when she did "So in Love," I collapsed in a puddle. It was divine. Sheer heaven. She closed her set with "Crying," which was equally moving. I am constantly impressed by her talent. I love her.

Tony Bennett was cool too. I don't know much about him, except for "I Left My Heart in San Francisco," which everyone stood up for, and I don't know how old he is, but he can belt them out all the same. It was very entertaining all the way around. Good suit, good shoes (kd was barefoot, as usual). Loved it.

Now I have to dash home tonight so I can watch the season premiere of "Charmed." Look at all of this, all I can do is count down until 20h00 PDT tonight so I can watch my witches. I need a life. But it's good. It really is!

I'm going to watch Buddy and Rosie again this weekend. RJ's grandmum passed away earlier this week, and they're going to her funeral. She was 95. And according to RJ, she led a fruitful and prosperous and full life. He was telling me that on one of her 90s birthdays, he went back to celebrate with her. They all went out for dinner and then for drinks and dancing. At around 2 or 3 in the morning, RJ was beat and had to go to bed. Apparently, she told him to just go home because she still had partying and dancing to do. How's that for old age? It's very sad when people leave us, but knowing that they had a good life for so long makes it a little easier, doesn't it?

Fraud

Now she wants 32 copies! 32! This is ridiculous. Why would anyone need 32 copies of a briefing package? It's a ridiculous waste of time and resources. See, we have this relatively common technology called Adobe Acrobat which allows you to view PDF files. And see, by using PDF files to view on a computer, we can save a few trees here and there and avoid the clutter of a few desks here and there, not to mention keeping our printer, TM, from going berzerk. Welcome to the 21st century, for crying out loud. I keep chanting, over and over, as if in a meditation to Buddha, himself, "matabang kalabaw, matabang kalabaw."

Dénouement

It's highly anti-climactic when a submission goes out. I spent the last 24 hours troubleshooting, printing, editing, printing again, burning CDs, making all sorts of labels, and now, at 1628 PDT, I'm exhausted and exasperated and extremely let down. I've been doing this for long enough that I should know that there is no reward for this job. There is no pat on the back, "thanks, pal, for the great job." And don't even think about a bonus or a raise for all of the work done week after week throughout the year. I'm doing what I'm paid to do, and therefore, there is only the annual merit increase, and they've managed to take even that away from me this year. "We're moving the company, you're on retention, and because you're not going with us, we're not going to give you a raise." Why don't you give me the raspberries instead then? Phfffffft. What are you, 5? Whatever. As X always says, "a bitching sailor is a happy sailor," and he's right. I love to be busy. I can't stand it when I have nothing to do. But anyway....

Finally watched the season premiere of "Charmed," and while Rose McGowan ("Paige") is going to take something to get used to, I loved it. They did a great job of tying it all up. And I love Paige's powers! She is a "half breed," half-witch, half-whitelighter, and it appears that she has some ability to heal people like WhiteLighters can. What a surprise. And I certainly like the fact that she can "orb" objects to her instead of simply moving them. It's more fun. I'm sure I'm leaving like everything out, but I'm too frazzled to remember it all right now. Maybe later.

On a parting note, I would like to say that the comm officer on the new Enterprise needs to put up or shut up. She's a whiner, and I've never, ever, ever seen a whiner on Star Trek before (not this bad, anyway), and I don't need to now! What is her deal? She's a trained StarFleet officer for crying out loud. What is so hard about doing the job you were trained to do? Yeah, let her go back to Earth. Can we say Tasha Yar? (Thanks, Kenny! Love ya. Miss ya.) Still, as prone as I seem to be lately to give people the benefit of the doubt, I have to say that in the era before the Universal Translator was as ubiquitous as the replicator, it would be a daunting task to try to communicate with an alien race whose guns, torpedoes, etc. were aimed right at you. Still, StarFleet training should prepare you for things like that. But then again, StarFleet was relatively new and unaware of like everything in the galaxy at this time, right? Whatever. I love it. I'll watch it.

Ho Hum

Not much going on today. I've been working a lot of unnecessary overtime. Even though I'm an FTE and I don't get paid overtime per se, I am still expected to work overtime. Darling, that is crap.

I took BART for the first time in like a week. It took two bloody hours to get here. Delays and broken trains. Then waiting for that infernal shuttle for 20 minutes. What a waste. All last week when I was driving, it only took 45 minutes, and that included a back-up at the Bay Bridge tollbooths. Ugh. I hate having to justify why I drive, too. My car is old, and I can't afford to fix it or buy a new one, and one of these days, I just know it's going to cause me more trouble than it's worth. But I hate wasting an hour and a half to two hours in ONE DIRECTION!!

There always is a bright side to BART, however. This morning, I got to stare, casually of course, at a nice looking man with excellent shoes. I don't know why, but sometimes when I see guys with good shoes, I just want to hug them or do cartwheels down the street or something. I don't know why. It's not that I'm a shoe snob...OK, I am, but it's not even that I have good shoes myself...OK, I do, or at least I know which shoes I would have if I weren't perpetually broke. Maybe I should work two jobs again so I can buy more shoes. I really am a queen.

Rant

What a shitty start to a day. First of all, my alarm ruins yet another intriguing dream. This time it was of a cute Jewish guy at Rockridge. Someone told me that if I sat down next to him at the exact moment that he sat down, he would be interested in talking to me. So I did just that. He looked up at me, and I could see tears running down his face and fogging up his glasses. It was chilly outside. He showed me a photo of himself with two older people, his grandparents in Israel. He was writing them a letter in Hebrew wishing them well. He was worried about them especially because of the air strikes on Afghanistan. He was extremely cute, but because of his concern for his grandparents, I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So then I woke up, showered, etc. I got dressed and pulled on my jeans, only I didn't just pull them on. I had to yank and smoosh and fuck me to tears I might as well have painted them on. I couldn't breathe. I didn't even try to sit down. I was a mess. How incredibly humiliating, even being alone! And I was going to show up at work like that? Not in a million.

So I'm fat. Two hundred and ten pounds fat. On a 5'9" frame, it's not really that bad, and since I wear my shirts a little big, it's not even that noticeable, except to me. I have to commit myself to either controlling the intake or exercising, and why not do both? Because I love to eat. I can eat anything non-stop. I can quit smoking whenever I want, really, and I have before only to realize how much I missed it, so I start up again. Maybe I really do have an addictive personality. Over-eaters anonymous? I guess I can work out with J at night. I can go every night except Thursday, because then I watch my witches. I am very disturbed by all of the clothes that I cannot wear because of this. I have waited too long to do something about it, and now that I really am in dire financial straits, I need to utilize the resources I own rather than expend money on stuff I can do without.

But then again, when someone offers you a PowerMac 7500 AV for $35, I simply can't resist. X said he would stop by and pick it up today. If so, I will try to leave early to go home and play. I just hope it works. I'm very excited about it, and thanks to eBay, I can spend even more money that I don't have to make it superduper.

And then again, again, I registered this web domain today. So www.glitteringenchantment.com is officially mine. And my friend Paul has been soooooo very kind and gracious to host me for free! Or else, we will work out some kind of payment, but I'll do anything for him. He is Ken's partner and future husband, and the both of them have been all too kind to me. I love them in return. I will do anything for them.

And on top of all that, BART might go on strike again! They threatened about a month ago, finally got what they wanted, but they didn't really get what they wanted because a small group of the union members are still complaining, and because a few might strike, they will all go. Solidarity. All for one, one for all. Shit on a shingle. I can't even imagine the commute. I wasn't up here the last time they struck in 1997, I think, but with an average ridership of over 300,000 people per day all hitting the streets in some way, shape, or form, I just can't wait to see this. How fun.

That's all.

Yet another crap day

Yet another crap day. It's beautiful outside. Sunny and warm. No traffic on the bridge except for the morons who want to drive 45 miles an hour. Only 40 minutes today.

But last night, I'm working on my new 7500, trying to get the damn CD drive to work, and X comes in and asks me if I am going to leave my computer all set up the way it was. Uh, yeah, overnight, because I intend to continue working on it when I get home from work on Friday (today). He stomps off in a huff because I'm taking up too much room. Um, excuse me? Like I have maybe a 6'x4' workspace as it is. There's nowhere else for me to go, and we have made a compromise before, but this time he doesn't want a compromise, just my acquiescence. Well excuse the f@ck out of me. I'm so sorry, sir. I'll have it cleared out as soon as I can. Please forgive.

Pisses me off that I have to constantly trip over his crap and have him turn around and complain about one small area that I want to use TEMPORARILY.

And while I'm worrying about petty space issues, the world is worrying about whether Bert is really part of Osama bin Laden's plot to destroy America. I mean, if Bert really were involved, it would be ingenious considering his wide audience all over America, including those of us who moved away from Sesame Street and on to Main Street, USA, years and years ago. I mean, really, if Bert came up and told me that Osama hu al akbar, wouldn't I be remiss to listen and heed the call? For pity's sake, people. Open your freakin' eyes and pay the fuck attention already. This is ridiculous.

All right, after I've had a ciggie-poo or two, and after I've had my morning Coca-Cola, and after I've poured more than my soul out here, I feel better, and I want to make it absolutely clear that I do love and respect X. He's been my best friend for over eight years, and I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for him. We have our share of disagreements, and last night was one of them. Friendship means compromise sometimes, and this is one of those times, even if I'm the one to make the move.

Sizzler

Went to lunch at Sizzler with Yentl and Blauth this afternoon. Two hours, was it? She's trying to decide where to move. She's on a limited budget until she can work somewhere, but she's deciding between Italy and Brazil. She can't stand LA anymore, and she doesn't want to live chez son père in Palo Alto, so she's skipping the US altogether. I swear if I had any spare cash at all, I would do the same. I would so love to see the grass on the other side. I know it's not greener, but it's different, and I'm so bored.

So if Yentl goes to Italy, Florence that is, she intends to take a month-long intensive course in Italian, and then possibly look for a job teaching English of all things. That would be such a cush job. I would love that. So.

If she goes to Brazil, it would only be for a short time, possibly a month, maybe to stay. But she only wants to go to Brazil to study the musical influence on the culture and the music itself. Can't fault her for that. Before she came back up to the Peninsula, she enrolled herself in a UCLA extension course on song writing with such special guest stars as Chaka Khan herself. Yentl's a former jazz singer, and she still talks about taking it up again. She's got a beautiful voice. I don't know why she doesn't.

So then we mosey on over to the Bev'Mo to check out the scotch. Blauth is giving me a small tutorial on scotch while I help him with his French. It's a fair trade off. Wine doesn't seem to be having the same effect on me as it once did, and beer is only for the bars. So let's try something a little stronger, shall we? Talisker, Laphroaig, Oban, The Balvenie, just to start off. Taste tests, you know.

That's all.

You know what's really annoying?

I go into this Mac specialty store because I knew they would have PRAM batteries. So while I'm there, I stop to ask a tech question. They look at me as if I'm the same old guy asking the difference between ADB and USB. I may not be Apple-certified for Christ's sake, but fuck me if I don't know my way around a Mac, OK? He's all condescending and patronizing acting like I've never touched a Mac before. Fuck off, twerp. I've been using these things since before you were born. Give me a fucking break.

Liz got fucking married on 16th August! And she's already preggers. Fast mama. She sent me a card acknowledging my RSVP. I can't wait to see her tomorrow, "the pregnant chick in white." Shotgun? No, alien. Visa. Etc....

I've been trying to figure this FTP thing out, and I think I've got it. I'm published to my own domain, my own web page. No more of that ad crap. I'm all there is. Whatever. It's all so exciting. I love this. What took so long?

Blauth gave me two CDs to listen to. Both of them are Snake River Conspiracy and I like them a lot. Nice music. Kinda like Garbage or No Doubt or a combo of the two. Cool shit, Maynard.

I'm just all irritated because I got my ego stomped on by Junior at MAC in Berkeley. Just don't, mmmkay? I bought my grape iMac DV there two years ago. I'm not that impressed overall. Lots of games, relatively few useful programs. Silly. Thank my stars for internet commerce.

But I'm happy to report that both machines are now happily powered up and beautiful. I'm giving the 7100/G3 upgrade to W and R. They've bought a hot tub, not to mention a new washer and dryer (I'm sooooo drooling here), and they said that it should be ready, set up and hot by next weekend. So perhaps I'll mosey on over and drop off the 7100 and set it up, and maybe take a dunk. I wonder if they'll do it naked. Wow. I've got a crush on both of them something awful. Why, oh why do I end up with crushes on my friends? Ugh. The tension. The pressure...of a name. Hootchie mama.

What a day I had yesterday

I got up and stewed and hemmed and hawed about going down to Monterey. I was so nervous. Sweaty palms, jumpy stomach, irritable nerves. It's like I had to give a speech or something. J drove me down. He wanted to spend time in Monterey's beautiful nature while I was cavorting with old friends. So we got there, I went to the ceremony, and Liz was absolutely beautiful. She had a gorgeous dress and she looked just fabulous. I was in awe looking at her. She's seemed like a different person than the tomboyish girl that sucked down margaritas and taunted passing drag queens from her balcony. (Don't worry, I taunted them too, only because I knew them and I felt it was my duty to make them work!) But who knows, I only saw her for a few hours, and maybe it was all just show. :) Wishful thinking on my part.

On the way home, J and I stopped in Scruz at the Blue Lagoon. We used to go there all the time, and when we travel that far south, we always end up getting an Anchor Steam there. The boys are cuter, too. Anyway, I cried my eyes out, mostly feeling sorry for myself, on the way to Scruz. I was so depressed. I felt like an old friend had left forever. I am sure I was just being a silly dramatic queen, but I cried nonetheless. Liz has her family now. She's got a husband and she'll have kids soon, I'm sure. I feel like our friendship will never be the same again. She's got other priorities and I will have to take a backseat to her new family. Of course, I don't know all of this for sure, but it seems logical, no? Anyway, I am sooo happy for her. She was a beautiful bride and I know she's happy. It just seems so unreal. Who knew?

Driving through Monterey again was weird in and of itself. I lived there for eight years, and every street seems to be a part of my life in a way. Monterey is so small that I saw every part of it in eight years, and that's a long time to live in small place. None of it has changed. In fact, it felt like I never even left at all. J felt very comfortable there. He lived there with me down there, and he felt like it was a "coming home" of sorts. We rarely ever get there anymore. I just felt a little creeped out. I couldn't explain it yesterday, and I can't right now. Maybe it was just the events of the day that added a little edge to my visit there. It's a nice, quiet little town. Going back after what, like three years, it made me miss it a little. It's simple and easy to live there. And so pretty. And clean!

So, we drove home from Scruz, stopped by Krispy Kreme, and got home around 1 AM. I woke up at 9:30 AM this morning, and fortunately for me, Matabang kalabaw was in San Diego, so she couldn't harrass me for coming in so late. I got here at 11 AM. Like I care anyway.

That's all.

Seen on a license plate frame

the auto of which driving an irritating 45 mph on 101 this morning:

"RU LDS 2?
I Brake for Temples"

You go, girl.

This crap pisses me off.

This crap pisses me off. I don't understand why it's so wrong for gays and lesbians to serve their country. I was in the Navy for 19 brief months before I decided to come out and tell the truth. I could have lied to myself and my friends and family just to stay in and serve, but I decided that it wasn't the right thing for me to do personally. Thus, the Navy had no choice but to kick my ass to the curb. This was in 1991. And I had sub duty orders to Rota, Spain. Kiss my wicked ass.

Now they're saying that it's OK for gays and lesbians to die in support of their country just like everyone else. Is it just because they need the bodies to fight? Or is it something else I'm missing? We're not good enough to serve during times of peace, but we're good enough to die during a time of war? Well, that's just par for the course for the American military. They did it to how many other minority groups during the previous wars, why not do it to Gay- and Lesbian-Americans during this one? What was I thinking? It all makes sense. "Call in Troop 69. Send them to Afghanistan." Um, Bitter? Party of one?

It seems to me that we are last first-world nation with a voluntary military service that discriminates against gays and lesbians. Tell me...do the armed forces of Denmark, France, or Germany suffer a loss of morale because they have gays and lesbians serving amongst heterosexual soldiers?

My argument is not well-supported here because it's mainly an emotional issue for me. I, unfortunately, do not have all the facts. However, I do know, first hand, that there are more gays and lesbians serving at every level of the American armed forces than one would care to believe. I met lots of them while I was serving my brief time, and they were exemplary in every way. I think the only person that had a problem with us was a silly little trailor trash tramp from the sticks who couldn't fuck one of the gay guys she knew. She turned us all in to the security office and we were part of an organized witch hunt. It scared the shit out of me at first, but then I realized what great company I was in, and it turned out to be a laugh riot. And the tramp ended up knocked up by a really ugly marine. Too bad for you.

Whatever. It's just another form of sanctioned discrimination against a group of people who choose to love. It shouldn't matter whom we love, but only that we choose to love.

Just another senseless rant....

Not really much to say today.

I've been so busy at work, I haven't had a chance to post anything. I am having problems with this color scheme, though. I don't know that I like it, and I've tried several variations, but I can't seem to get a decent scheme that won't make my eyes bleed. If anyone happens to read this, and if you have any suggestions, I would be more than happy to entertain them. I like the purple and the green...it's the rest that I'm not satisfied with. And I like the variation. I don't necessarily want a two-color scheme. Life is about color (if you'll excuse the cheese here), and I like a lot of color. So the red and the blue and this text piece should stay, but I'm thinking of different shades of these colors. Maybe I'm just too tired to think about right now. If anyone's listening.... :)

Mangiare

Had a nice, long lunch with DS this afternoon. She is courting me to join their team. Like I need to be courted. Sheesh. I said "yes" as soon as we sat down. She doesn't have to sell me a line. I'm ready to bite now. Good salary, good projects, good future. I wholly believe in this, and I will support them cent pour-cent. I have to wait a couple of weeks anyway until this silly submission is properly filed *ahem* (can we say circularly?), and then maybe by mid-November I can skedaddle out the door. I will wait. I have the patience of a stone.

The RAM I bought for the 7100/G3 doesn't work. Waaah. I should have read the specs first. But, 's OK. I sent it back in exchange for three SIMMs that will work. Whatevah.

The RAM I bought for the 7500 is awesome. 320 MB total. Not bad for a first generation PowerPC 601. The 128 MB DIMMs are so cheap right now. One DIMM costs about thirty bucks! Even a 512 MB DIMM for my iMac is only about $38!! That's awesome. I can fill the iMac and the 7500 to capacity easily, and without really breaking the bank. Both should take a full 1 GB of RAM. Awe. Some. I can get a pretty inexpensive G4 upgrade card for the 7500 which would make it rock hard. The 7500 has A/V ports, so I can capture video from the VCR or from a digital camera. With a G4 card and Premiere or something similar, I hope I can do some major damage. That's my next major foray in Macland. I can't wait.

I had a dream last night that I was driving a new Miata and I wouldn't stop. I didn't want to get off the freeway for anything. It was really odd because the top was down, and it was nighttime, but it wasn't windy or cold. Whatever. I've been thinking really hard about buying this car. My car now is about 12 years old, and though it still runs like a champ (thank you, Volkswagen), I would really love to get a new one. And I mean a new new car, not a new car that's used. When donkeys fly at this point. Who knows. Maybe DS will allow me to have a corporate car? As I said, when donkeys fly. It really sucks because last year, my car was dead on the side of the road (not running like a champ) for four months, but that was mainly because I couldn't afford to fix it. So, RJ, out of the sincere kindness of his heart, allowed me to drive his Miata until I got mine fixed. I loved it. It was between November and February, and every sunny day that came, I had the top down, freezing or not. That's California for you. The heater works, and I've got coats I can wear. It was divine. I need a convertible. No SUV. No four-door sedan. I need a convertible.

That's all.

As the driven snow

According to Spark's Purity Test, I am only 32% pure. Wow, that much? I wouldn't have guessed so high. Oh well, we must all have our goals.

And, I am
43% bitch.
Also a surprise. This time I would have guessed higher.

There are more to come. It's Saturday, and I'm bored.

According to the Gay Test, I am 77% gay. I don't understand. How can that be? Does that mean that there is still a chance that I could fall in love with a woman? No offense darlings, but I don't think so. I shudder to think....

And this is what the Personality Test had to reveal about me. Hmmm. Same answer I get everywhere.

DREAMER
(Submissive Introvert Abstract Feeler )

Like just 12% of the population you are a DREAMER (SIAF)--reserved and imaginative. You are basically the shy, silent type. You don't have much interest in facts and figures or most of what's going on around you, but the internal worlds you build for yourself are rich and complex.

Luckily, your creativity and strong heart mean you have a deep personality evident to anyone who gets to know you. It's just that not many people do, because most everyone thinks you're a loser. Talk to yourself less, other people more, little shaver.

And for the coup de grâce, I am, thankfully,
.

Well what do you know about me now? I am an impure, bitch, fag, dreamer, slut. Yeah, I suppose.

Spent the weekend with R&W.

They have a new hottub and they invited me over to experience in the pleasure of it all. I brought over the 7100/G3 but forgot the monitor adapter, so I couldn't show them the joy of using a Macintosh. Oh well. They're hanging pictures next weekend, and they've enlisted my help, so I'll stop by again.

Also this week, on Tuesday, Funny Girl is being released on DVD. Totally digitally restored and remastered!! I can't wait. As any self-respecting queen would admit, I love that movie. I cry every single damn time. I remember pulling out my mother's vinyl album of the movie soundtrack when I was like ten or something. I liked the picture of the upside-down roller skater (the early Fanny Brice, as I would later learn) on the cover of the album. I loved listening to the songs. They were all catchy and moving, and Barbra's voice was perfect. She was only 21 when she made that movie. Ugh. I have loved it ever since. *Sigh*

And!! I found out that Suzanne Vega has a new album out! What a joyous occasion I shall have at Tower Records on Tuesday. Ahhhh. Ms. Vega was playing at the Fillmore or the Warfield (can't remember which), and I missed it again. She's here often, and I always miss her!!!

I had some funky dreams over the weekend. I always do when I sleep in a strange bed. One of them involved W, a lot of champagne, and a limosuine. I have chosen not to reveal any more than that. Thank you. As I must have said before, it really sucks when you develop crushes on close friends who are so close that you can tell them anything, and they end up loving you even more because of it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And it happens all the bloody time, too. WTF??? I ask you! Why? I probably won't ever end up paired up with someone else. I'll be single and pining for my married friends instead. WTF?!?!?!?

They're planning to take a trip to Vegas in mid-November. I want to go with them. I can't imagine how much fun that will be. I plan to serve notice and get the f@ck out of here by mid-November. This place sucks ass so bad. It's so not worth it for me to stay and wait seven months for a measely $12,000. I'm passing up opportunities now while I wait for the eventual demise of this rat trap. No thanks. Screw you guys, I'm going home.

That's all...for now. It's still early yet.

Discovery

Well, I have discovered that I am a penguin.

I love these things. If anyone reads this stuff, and if anyone knows of more of these things, please send them my way.

Hello?

I have a comments link here, people.

Other than that, I'm too pissed off to write anything remotely constructive. Even these three sentences were a fucking chore.

More of These Dreams

Yet another dream...hell, I dream every night. Who do I think I'm kidding?

Anyway.... I was traveling in England, on a sunny coast somewhere, I would imagine the southern coast, but since I've never been to the south of England, I could have been in Wales for all I know. I was taking a bus to an apartment that I was sharing with someone. I got off the bus in front of a pub, and a car pulled up in front of me. There was a girl in the backseat with her face pressed up against the window. It was Claire. She waved as the car drove off. I followed the car thinking all along that I would finally meet her parents, but at the same time I was thinking that I had already met them...had dinner with them, two summers ago on my first trip to London. In any case, I walked right up to their house and walked in as if I lived there myself. Her mother greeted me at the door with a cup of tea as "cold as a stone," just as I liked it.

When I first met them, I was having tea with them, and during the course of our long-winded conversation, my tea had cooled down. Her mother wanted to refresh my tea, and I insisted that it was fine. I drink it hot or cold, I remember saying. They were aghast, as if to drink cold tea (or iced for that matter) was like spitting on the Queen herself. Ok, when in Rome...except that whenever I drink tea hot or cold, it makes me pee. TMI.

So after I chatted with Claire for a few minutes, I walked back to the pub in front of which I had got off the bus. I went inside and found Tony, who I went to high school with. It turned out that he was the one whose apartment I was sharing on my trip. He gave me the key and a cigar and told me to have fun. Hmmm.

I can't analyze my dreams. I'm too subjective. Everything in dreams is supposed to represent some aspect of me, but I can't do it. What part of me is a small, English pub in a small, English coastal town? What part of me is Claire with her face pressed up against a car window? I don't even bother. It's all just silly. I love my dreams, though. I look forward to dreaming when I go to sleep. I don't even mind nightmares anymore. In fact, since I rarely have them, I ask for them...occasionally. What I don't like are the dreams that feel so real that when I wake up, I'm afraid that it all really happened. I would love to have a lucid dream. I have tried since I first read about them when I was 15. I still haven't succeeded. Ok, I'm weird. Haven't figured that out yet?

I'm really sick of this job. In two weeks time, it has hit rock bottom, and I'm fed up. I'm ready to turn in my resignation on 1st November. I told RJ that I would, but I don't know if I can. I need the moolah too much. But I can't stay here until May, I know that much. Ugh, that matabang kalabaw is truly unbearable. What the hell was she thinking when she came back here? The woman doesn't have a management bone in her bloated body!! I don't even have a freakin' degree and I can do a better job at her job. Most of it's common sense. Duh.

So, I don't know about this weekend, either. I was supposed to visit R&W again, but if I'm working all weekend, all day Saturday and Sunday (razzlefrazzlemoothaschmuperfuckingrrrrrrrrrr), it really won't be that much fun. I suppose it would, but *sigh* I love it over there. It's like a mini-vacation everytime I stop by. And they have a hot tub. And they're two fine men. And they have great dogs. Fuck fuck fuck.

That's all. Gotta go home and watch my witches.

Emode

This is exactly what I have been looking for!! I'm a collie, and my theme song is "I Feel Good." The dog part is OK, but I don't know about the theme song. We'll see.

Huh. This is interesting.

Huh. This is interesting. At least I'm not Ross. Then I'd have to kill myself.

Rachel

She's everybody's sweetheart, despite some (mostly) endearing quirks. And it looks like you too, have a little Rachel Green inside you. (If you're lucky, you might share her good looks too). Some may see you as a little spoiled, or at times naive. But overall you're a total doll. Like the real Rachel, you make your way in the world, figuring it out as you go.

Sometimes your story-book ideals of how things should turn out keep you from taking life as it comes, but that lovable vulnerability just makes people feel closer to you. You have true compassion, an idiosyncratic side your friends delight in...and, of course, great taste. Reminder, o charming one: People love it when you call them "hun."

This is hilarious. Apparently, I am a renaissance man (see below):

You are a Renaissance Man

Leonardo DaVinci's got nothing on you. A modern Renaissance Man, you know something about everything. You're extremely passionate about anything you can think of, from baseball stats to Dutch art. And you delve into all of them enthusiastically. Women are constantly impressed by how much information you soak up and retain, as well as your spontaneity and sense of adventure. Whether it's because you're extremely well-cultured or due to your romantic nature, they can't help but fall for you. As long as you're careful to keep your wits about you and stay grounded, any gal who winds up with you will feel like she's living on cloud nine.

and my perfect guy is the bad boy (also see below):

Your type is the Bad Boy

The Pink Lady needs her T-Bird. You're attracted to the Bad Boy. The tough guy. The heart-breaker. So what if he's hard to tie down? You want a guy who's got an edge, someone who keeps you on your toes. In fact, it might be the challenge that keeps you around. His bad-ass attitude is like a magnet...if a guy's got a rebel reputation, he's got your attention! Your man's gotta be confident and have lots of machismo. Plain and simple, sensitive guys just don't float your boat. You have no time for the sweet, romantic, or doting guys who pursue you and, frankly, bore you to tears. Maybe you're just not into the touchy-feely thing right now. Who cares? Whether you're seeking adventure or looking to tame the wild, there's something about a bad boy that keeps you coming back.

Now, I have to keep in mind that these tests were probably written for the straight persuasion, but then, what difference does it really make? I mean, is a gay bad boy different from a straight bad boy? Well, with my track record, let's hope not.

It's Saturday again, and I'm stuck at work, again (thank you, matabang kalabaw) so, I'm trying to amuse myself. Emode.com is mildly entertaining. It's a little overkill, like do I really need to know all of that about me? But it's a diversion while I'm sitting around doing nothing waiting for the work that I was brought in do to show up. Whatever. I don't even get paid overtime. :(

Once Upon a Time

In my past life, I was a:

Leopard

Not much is certain in life...past or present...but we know this much about you: In your last life you were a sultry leopard named Lola. You were a showgirl, with yellow feathers in your hair and a dress cut down to there. You would meringue and do the cha-cha. And one night at the Copacabana (the hottest spot north of Havana), you fell in love with Tony, the handsome bartender. Tony fought Rico (he wore a diamond) for you and won. The two of you grew old and happy together, joyfully dancing your lives away at the club to the soulful tunes of Barry Manilow.

Well, it's almost five o'clock on this lovely October afternoon. I'm about finished with work, and I do get to go over to see R&W. W says that I don't need to come over, but they would love to have me...even after I had to cancel my trip to Vegas with them. Oh. That's another long, tear-stained story. For another day.

That's all. And please, help me stop these damn tests! I'm sorry I ever asked.

Don't forget to set your clocks back to banish Daylight Savings Time again. Ah, sweet autumn and lovely winter. My favourites.

You know what really sucks?

When you have to train your new boss who will eventually take your job away anyway. I'm soooooo sick of this, people. Dude comes in, says he has tons of experience with our publishing software. Says he has filed three (3) E-NDAs using said publishing software. So, matabang kalabaw gives him an annual report to work on as his first project. ARs are usually less than 100 pages, and are the easiest things to work on. No tabs, no slip sheets. Just publish, print, and say bye-bye. Could it be that easy for Dude? Uh, no. It took him an hour and a half to work on it. Honestly, and yes my ego is squashed and bruised by this time, I could have had it done in 20 minutes. Published and printed in 20 minutes. Bitch is now asking him for reports for which he comes to me for answers.

Should I be angry? I hate that fuck. I hate her for making three times as much as I do when I know more about her job than she does, and when I have more experience at doing her job than she does. I hate having to train my replacement who knows nothing. I hate having to report to someone who is incompetent and worthless. I hate this more than anyone can imagine. I'm cringing here. I simply can't stand it anymore. WTF am I supposed to do?

OK, how's this for a dream?

I have to record this somewhere because it was just so freakin' bizarre. Wanna hear it? Here it goes.

I pulled into the parking lot of a junior college on the peninsula. I was dressed up in a suit and tie. I walked into the main building and ran into matabang kalabaw. She said, "Michael, darling, can you make copies of your Star Trek: Voyager DVDs for my friend here? He wants them." I looked at her friend. He was short and pudgy with a reddish face and receding hairline. "Yeah, uh huh," I replied.

I walked into one of the classrooms and found a minister sitting at the teacher's desk. "Oh good, you're here," he said. I looked around and saw AA sitting in a chair, in a wedding gown replete with veil, head bowed down, eyes closed. I looked around the room and saw a lot of people all dressed up, looking anxiously at me. I looked again and saw a row of brides in similar gowns farther down from AA. The minister said, "Go put your stuff in the back so we can get started."

I walked to the back of the class and hung my coat up on the coat rack. I noticed a pair of shoes on the floor. AA looked up and pointed at the shoes earnestly, as if to say "put them on!" So I complied.

Then I walked back up to the left side of AA. The minister started talking about marriage and love and God and stuff, and then I realized where I was and why I was there. I had agreed to marry AA, but for what reason?

The minister looked at me and asked me if I took AA to be my wedded wife, etc., and all I could do was mouth the word "yes." The minister asked me to repeat myself. So I whispered "I do," all the while thinking that everyone would hear me and it would be set in stone. I was so upset about having to marry AA that I kept denying it to myself. I remember feeling like I was trapped and I had no choice. It was awful.

So then the minister started asking AA questions about her life. She got tired of it and then said, "Why aren't you asking him about his life?" So he stopped and asked me where we lived. She said an address in Palo Alto, and she said my address was Number One, Highway 101, San Francisco. She showed him certificates, big ones like diplomas, of our addresses to prove them. Then I knew that she knew that I was still living in my car. The minister asked me where that was, and I had to reply that it was a new building. The minister then asked me my mother's maiden name, was confused by it, and then asked me if she was dating anyone.

I turned away from him and looked out the window. I started to say something like, "Well, you know I have always wondered..." and then AA pinched my arm. When I looked back to the minister he had turned into Sandra Bernhard. I said to her, "I'm sorry but that's none of your business." She turned to her all-girl choir behind her and started chanting, "Go FloJo, Go FloJo."

At that, the "congregation" got up on its feet and rushed the newly wedded bride and groom. All of her family shook my hand and kissed my cheeks. A little girl approached me singing the songs that girls sing while they're jumping rope on the playground. I asked AA what she was saying, and she said that the girl wanted a kiss. So I kissed her forehead and she skipped out of the classroom.

Then I was alone again. I picked up my coat and bag, kicked off the other shoes and replaced them with my own. I walked out of the classroom in the direction from which I came, and ran into matabang kalabaw again. She asked me where the DVDs were, and I told her to get lost.

As I was walking through the school trying to get out, I came upon a set of rafters that were at floor level, however, in between the rafters were holes that dropped underground. They were about five feet wide with as much space in between them. There were a few assorted chairs on the rafters. I could see the exit on the other side of the rafters. I didn't want to cross them, so I walked around them, down a ramp, and out the door. It reminded me of Lara Croft and Tomb Raider. (I love Lara Croft. She fucking rocks.)

I made it to my car, and in the parking lot, I saw AA with another guy in her little, cherry-red MG with the top down. She waved at me, and I said, "whatever," and the guy started howling with laughter. She got all pissy and drove off in a huff. She acted like I had done her a favor and that I should be happy about it. I wasn't happy about it at all.

I got in my car and was searching for cigarettes and instead found a pack of M&M's that had melted in the sunlight. I then found my cigarettes and lit one up. As I was driving out of the parking lot, I got really worried that this marriage thing would continue to haunt me. By this point in the dream, I realized that she had only married me for money or some sort of financial security. She didn't love me, and damn, honey, I'm a big ol' queen. I hoped that one day she would meet the love of her life, and then approach me, after I had also found the love of my life, and ask for a divorce.

And then I woke up...thank my stars. It was another one of those all-too-realistic dreams. In fact, when I saw AA today, I couldn't even say hello to her, and we're normally on at least a friendly "hello" basis. Scared the shit out of me to think that I could possibly marry a woman out of convenience. My goodness.