Less Is Bore

I've been very busy wallowing lately for the following 2 reasons:

1. My back has been out and I've been writhing in pain and braying like a donkey every time I make too sudden a move. It scares the hell out of our cat and it's no fun for me either. MDH has been very sweet to me, fetching and carrying and tolerant of my disturbing uncontrollable pain noises.

2. I got a call from HR on Monday that I will not be considered for the position I have been campaigning for like a madwoman. Not even an interview - which, until late Wednesday afternoon caused the words "no chance, no chance, no chance" to spin thru my head like the worlds most depressing mantra.

I'm humiliated. The fact that many big-wig people with fancy titles and upper management type of clout were helping me (which is why I was referring to it as "the campaign", and came by to tell me I was robbed, is about the only thing that held me together all week. I would have been excellent at that job and their policy of always hiring internal candidates is their sucky loss. The person they hired is a jack ass.

At least a real live human being was nice enough to call me with the bad news, rather than the dreaded robo-email that I despise so much. Anyhoo... I'm done with these assholes. I can't take it anymore. They don't deserve me so I'm not going to apply for any more positions there, unless the one that I'm already in becomes available as a permanent post. It's just too heartbreaking.

So it's Saturday and I've recovered a bit from my pain and humiliation and decided to celebrate with a little retail therapy. Here are some photos from today's haul:

When recovering from this kind of slump one pair of cheap shoes just won't do. Back pain and job related humiliation definitely call for 2 pair.

Beauty and personal care products must be purchased in abundance to get oneself fully onto the road to recovery.

Opening the windows to fresh spring air is one of the better ways I can think of to dry my tears.

Here are some pictures of our cat Turtle enjoying the weather:

In the breakfast nook:

Waiting at the front door for his pal the mailman.

The News Roundup

Pardon me won't you while I cram about 15 days worth of blog posts into one. I'm all economical and shit like that these days.

1. I don't want to intrude on Some Guy's blog topic turf because, of all of the people in my particular section of blogland, he is the resident expert on documentary films, but I'm piping in with my 2 cents because in the past 10 days or so I've seen 2 terrific documentaries. I haven't noticed that he has mentioned them, so I feel compelled to step up. I figure since he didn't mention them that perhaps he hasn't seen them and they are both worth watching.

Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten (2006) - An intensive biography of Joe Strummer, narrated by Joe Strummer himself via old interviews and recordings from his radio show. Even if you are a only a marginal fan of Joe Strummer and/or The Clash it's a must see.

I Like Killing Flies (2004) - An unfortunately titled little film about a tiny hole-in-the-wall Greenwich Village diner called Shopsins. The diner, it's quirky owner and his family are a neighborhood institution. The title really turned me off and I almost didn't watch it (except I have that weird obsession with all things New York, so I decided to give it a shot), but I'm glad I did because the film is delightful. I loved this film, but I will never set foot in that restaurant man, no way. Kenny Shopsin can be one scary motherfucker. I'm from Ohio and far too delicate for that big city bullshit.

Both films are available on Netflix.

2. My contract has been extended until the end of July, after which time it can be extended no further and I shall be let go due to a corporate policy limiting contracts to a year and a half.

If I don't find permanent work soon come July I will be cast out like a bad penny. Wait, that sounds wrong. I've got some phrases mixed up. Cast out like a bad apple? No. I'm definitely a good apple, but I'll be cast out like... um...oh whatever - it sucks donkey dongs because I really like my job. So put that in your hat and smoke it.

3. I have applied for another position that has recently opened in my department. I know more about the competition this time so although I'm going to pull out all the stops I'm not going to get my hopes up quite so much as I did last time. It is very early in the process and I don't know yet if I will even be asked to interview, but I have begun campaigning. Hard. I need a new suit and all the trimmings (yeah shoes!).

4. I have informed the co-worker friend who bugged me every day and drove me so crazy when I applied for the other position a few months ago that I referred to her on this blog as a "nosy twat", that if she so much as lifts an eyebrow in my direction that seems remotely as though she wants to ask me if I've heard anything about the job that I will punch her right in the throat and never speak to her again.

OK. Not really.

Punching her in the throat is Plan B, but I did inform her of the new situation (figuring she'd hear about it from someone else and turns out she already knew that I applied. How? How?), reminded her of how much she upset me previously, told her that I did not wish to discuss it with her ever and asked her (nicely) not to attempt to bring up the subject with me. Ever.

5. MDH is in Indianapolis for the weekend for the college basketball thingy. I'm naturally beside myself with glee to have the house to myself for a few days. Here's a quick rundown of how I've spent my weekend so far.

Friday Night - total TV fest. I watched all the vagina shows that MDH hates so very much including a new series called Running In Heels, and a French subtitled movie called Toi et Moi (2006) about two sisters living in Paris and the all trials and tribulations of their vaginas. I had cold cereal for dinner. It was fabulous.

Saturday - Awoke at the crack of dawn, showered and tarted myself up for a successful day of serious suit shopping. The last mall of the day has a little take out Thai place that cooks the food from scratch while you wait. There are no heat lamps or sweating metal trays filled with simmering goop. No. They cook that shit right in front of you on a big Vulcan stove top with real pots and pans and utensils and everything.

I ordered a Green Chicken Curry and it was fantastique! Mwah! (Imagine I have just gathered all of the fingers on my right hand together into a point, brought them to my lips and blew a big kiss, a la cartoon chef.)

In the evening I talked to my best friend Amy on the phone for a very long time and afterwards blissfully played the Sims 2 without interruption until the wee hours of the morning. It was the kind of day that my dreams are made of.

Sunday - It's still happening so I really can't say for certain, but I envision something similiar to Friday except interspersed with laundry, bathroom cleaning activities and a Lindt chocolate bunny. Good times.

Pants Noise

Today I wore a pair of shoes that are a winning combination of cute and comfortable. I hardly ever wear them and when I took them down from the top shelf of my closet and pulled them out of the box, I was thinking to myself - Oh, I love these shoes, why don't I ever wear them?

Because they make an irritating rubbery squishing noise with every step - that's why.

They make a noise like wet socks inside a pair of rubber boots, but of course I didn't remember this until I was well on my way and it was too late to turn back and get another pair.

In addition to this I wore one of my newer pairs of wide-leg khaki trousers. They make a soft, swishing sound that is also pretty annoying after awhile.

So between the shoes and the pants I sounded like a one man band.

I was self conscious about it all day to the point that I made a contest with myself to see how long I could go without getting up to do anything. Pretty long actually. I made it until around 12:30. When I finally couldn't take it any more and got up to go to the break room to heat up my lunch (there was no way I was going to eat cold soup from a can) enough time had gone by for my feet to stir up a little moisture and a new delightful farting noise was now added to the mix for accompaniment.

Great.

Round about this time (12:50, to be exact) a reminder popped up on my calendar for a meeting I needed to attend - on the other side of the fucking compound. Seriously it's a very big place - the meeting was half a mile away. No joke.

It took me 11 laboriously noisy hours to walk there. Farting, swishing and squishing all the way. Of course I got there late and had to walk all the way to the back of the room to find a seat.

Marvelous.

Anyhoo... the first thing I did when I arrived home this evening was rip these shoes from my feet and ceremoniously slam them into the trash. I said, "Take that you noisy motherfuckers".

Then I unceremoniously pulled them out of the trash, put them back into their box, placed a post it note on top of the box that says simply, "Farts", and placed the box back on the top closet shelf. At least next time I'll know why I never wear them.

The title of the post is a little inside joke because when I was in middle school I had a friend named Dana whose mother was into some weird rattle-snake frenching religion and thought that everything having to do with the human body was dirty and any mention of a body part or body function was a dirty word. She was kinda like Carrie's mom.

Dana's mother once washed her mouth out with soap for saying the word "pimple". Her mother created an alternate language for such things:

Zit/Pimple = Place on your face

Fart = Pants noise

Vagina = Special place

Butt/Ass = Seat

Crazy Bitch = Mother

That's all I can remember, but "Pants Noise" always gave me a giggle and when Amy's daughter LBL was a baby, that was one of my favorite nicknames for her.

Calendar Girl

This past Christmas money was a little tight so MDH and I agreed not to exchange gifts. We also made the same agreement with my parents. Of course I sent presents to my mother in law because I'm the only person who ever does and if I didn't she wouldn't get a goddamn thing from any of her 5 sons.

I was fine with the 2007 no gifts policy, but realized this week that something was missing. A void that is normally filled at Christmas time - new calendars. I usually get two every year, one from MDH and one from my mom.

I didn't even notice until I started my new job last week. My cubicle is empty but I'm not planning to decorate it with hoo-haws and doo-dads like my Troll Doll collection, clipped Cathy and Dilbert cartoons, and framed family portraits because I don't have any of those things and also because I'm a temp, so that would be a little ridiculous. However, I do like to keep a nice big wall calendar at my desk because the one that comes with Windows is useless as far as holidays and such. Plus I'm old fashioned and like to write shit down with a pen.

No Christmas gifts - no calendars, so this weekend I perused Amazon.com to see what kind of personal cubicle statement I'd like to make.

The selection was as endless as people have hobbies and quirks and as I shopped I couldn't help but be fascinated by the fact that there are enough people out there who like some of this crap to make it profitable to compile a calendar about it. Animals are popular I guess. There is a calendar for every breed of dog, kittens, puppies, pigs, horses, and pairings of smaller animals with horses with titles like "Barn Buddies".

Here are some of my favorites:

Who wouldn't love a year's worth of color photographs of smirking, red-eyed rodents?

Sexy Vatican Alter Boys - disturbing on many levels.

World traveling Marshmallow Peeps. Good thing it wasn't raining.

Pictures of ganja for your viewing pleasure with tips for growing your own crops. It would be cool if it were printed on rolling paper.

Does somebody actually come up with new photo ideas each year and audition roosters and hens for this? I kind of hope so.

What did I finally end up with? This one:

I have fond memories of Toronto and the Bada Shoe Museum.

PS - I wrongly assumed that Blogger would have gotten their shit together by now and fixed the fucking spell checker and loaded all of the pictures before I realized that they still have their head up thier collective ass. So sorry for any moronic-ness, but I'm not going to paste this thing into Word. I'm sure you know what I mean.