My Commute Today

Enough said.

Mahogany

OK, so my week is not as busy as I had planned it to be. On Monday, I put in for Thursday off. It was a spur of the moment thing, but it was quickly shot down. "We have a 50-page submission on Thursday that has to reach the agency by no later than Friday." That's redundant. Sort of. Fifty pages! OMFG! You have got to be joking! You're going to give me a 50-page document to format and whip into shape in one day? No! Please! No! And you're making me forego a day off for this? Y'all are just about fucked up.

Have I mentioned that I'm bored out of my gourd? I drive all this way every day to sit around in stuffy room (with no ventilation or visitors) for eight hours (give or take) only to drive the long commute home at night, and there's not a thing to do during this time. At our weekly staff meetings, when we go around the table and rattle off what we're working on, I just kinda shrug and make stuff up just so they're not offended by what I really want to tell them: nada fucking mucho.

I've even taken up formatting documents from Project Gutenberg and converting them to PDF files in order to keep myself busy and make it look like I'm really doing something related to my job. They're free texts, and making them look nice with good typography and layout makes the time pass. Maybe I'll post some here as an example.

So then I promised the former boss that I'd help with a nightmare of a submission he's been saddled with. I worked all last weekend and nights so far this week. Last night, 'round 11:00 p.m., they decided to ship the thing out by next Tuesday, Election Day. (Please vote people!) But, I just found out that the original deadline is Friday, this Friday. They're pulling a 48-hour submission fest between now and Friday, and I, sadly, cannot give but five or six paltry hours this eve. I will not be available tomorrow night, and I can't help them on Friday during business hours because it's our Halloween party, and we've got pumpkins to carve, you know. Whatever, I'm so over this submission bullshit. I've got to get out of the pharma business.

I guess, then, it goes without saying that I'm still not really hip on being here, but I'm still collecting the paycheck, thankyouverymuch. Still trying to figure out where I'm going. (I have that damn Diana Ross song floating through my head from time to time: Do you know where you're going to? / Do you like the things that life is showing you? / Where are you going to? / Do you know?) If I could stay awake long enough, I'd meditate on it and find the answer from within, but whenever I try to do this, wherever I am, I end up dozing off. It's not as effective as perhaps I'd like it to be.

And fuck Pepsi. It's overrated. I shoulda known.

Roommate and I were going to go to Vegas in December. They've got wicked low rates the first couple of weeks, but the only weekend that we could manage was that of the 11th, and dammit if I don't have tickets to see Boobs Midler in San Jose. That's going to be good. I saw her a couple of years ago in Oakland, and I was loving it. This year, since we've both been doing OK for ourselves, we sprang for good seats, on the floor, stage left, and I'm excited. I love her. She is a true diva. Forget about Britney and Beyoncé. They don't know from diva, OK?

Gosh, it's 1505 on a Wednesday afternoon, and I'm just about ready to call it a day.

Cheers!

Bye Bye Warranty

After only two years, four months, and twenty-eight days, my warranty is done and over. Oh well. I still love my car and I love passing you slow-ass mother fuckers. And if you all simply cannot believe that an "economical" little VW can pass your ass, think again. I'm not saying this is an old school muscle car with V-8 and 500 horses under the hood, but when the 2002 GTI VR6 was reviewed in one webrag, the author called this car the "poor man's pocket rocket." Well, I guess I know who he was talking about. Anyway, I'm still impressed with its speed.

And if I can just pitch a bitch real quick: one of the reasons behind the FasTrak system is that you can sail through the toll plazas without having to stop and pay. The toll lanes that are equipped with the FasTrak system are narrow to be sure, but that doesn't mean that the effectiveness of the radio transmission between the transponder on your car and the receiver on the toll plaza is any less. In fact, they say that the transmission works at highway speeds (you know, 55 mph or higher), but the lane speed is reduced because of the constrictive toll booth lane itself. So why is it that some of you morons insist on slowing down to a crawl or even stopping before the sign displays that your toll as been collected? That is so not the point of the FasTrak lane, and I'm a little aggravated by it. Catch a clue, K?

Whatever. I worked late last night, and I was sweet-talked into working late again tonight. I didn't think I was going to, but I figured I could squeeze in an all-nighter to help them out. They're paying me well, so I can afford to give up a night or two. This is Xmas money, which, since I'm Ebeneezer Scrooge incarnate, means that I'm gonna have me a good holiday! Yeah, I'll buy one thing for myself and it'll be hot hot hot. Like the new iMac. How can you not totally love this machine?

Anyway, I plan to work from like 10 p.m. through Friday morning (they swear their cutoff time is 0300...I'll believe that when I see it, uh huh), drive back over here, go to the gym for a swim, and then go to work. I got here at 0615 this morning, and I think I was the first one in the building. Funny. I'm totally rambling now as if I have to make up for lost time.

It's Too Late

Darlings, that was such a mistake! Not only was it too late for me to be out, but was it really worth it?

I'm sitting at work now, 0735, struggling to keep my eyes open, listening to "Blue Dress"—I love that song—wondering what in the holy fuck I was thinking when I got back in my car at 2000 last night to drive to Dublin. I was half-asleep and warm in my bed, and I heard the call of duty, or at least what I thought was duty but was really guilt masquerading as duty...'tis the season and all. I promised and they needed. Whatever. We left the office at 0330 and I drove to the gym to soak my weary bones and work out. It didn't seem worth it to drive back to Oakland, go to sleep for two hours and then get up to drive back over here during the commute. Plus, I thought that the adrenaline and the accelerated heart rate of exercise would help me stay awake. I guess the soak in the hot tub after the adrenaline and accelerated heart rate worked to counter the effects. To add insult to injury, there were no cute guys at the gym at 0400 on a Friday morning. Let that be a lesson to me, eh? So then I proceed to a park down the road from my office. It was (thankfully) deserted, but unnecessarily well-lit at 0530 and I took a brief snooze. Does any of this make any sense? I mean, not in grammar or English, but in logic and reason? What was I thinking?

So I promised to help with the pumpkin carving today at my real job, and I'm so not enthused to do so. I really only excel at whopping the top off and scooping out the seeds. I suck at the rest. Not an artistic bone in this body, no. So maybe they'll let me go after I perform the seed-ectomy? Doesn't matter...it's still so far away! Oh the choices we make.

An "E" for Effort

1. Right Now :: Garlic, a cool breeze, and an extra hour to enjoy Sunday
2. Halloween :: Boo
3. Provider :: Healthcare
4. Rescue me :: I love that song
5. Confidence :: Faith
6. Fungus :: I don't like mushrooms
7. Candy corn :: I like the pumpkins better
8. Reunion :: Necessary?
9. Winner :: Takes It All
10. Tradition :: for a reason

Happy Halloween.