Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Tired in a turtleneck

I’m sleepy. And I’m wearing a turltleneck much higher up on my neck than I feel comfortable with. Can you guess why? Oh come on, I know you know the answer. Not enough sleep? Had to wear a tutleneck this morning? Yes, there’s that light bulb. I knew you could do it.

I woke up with a big nasty hickey on my neck. Oops. I guess I’m reliving the sexual 20s I never had. I’ve never liked turtlenecks that much. I hate wearing things so tight around there.  I feel tense all the time for some reason.  I go home and I can’t wait to rip the damn thing off and shake off the tenseness. No more hickeys for me.

At least not on my neck. 

Monday, March 12, 2007

Even the atomic clocks are screwed up

I gripe about the time change every year, but this time it’s more annoying than usual. It came three weeks early. I have to install some freaking patch to get my computer to do it automatically. I have two clocks that supposedly synchronize periodically with some atomic clock signal in Denver or something. One’s digital and the other is analog, but they both used to work flawlessly. Now they’re an hour behind. Does this mean the big atomic clock (and really, I have no idea how an atomic clock works, and why it’s any better than a Timex), against which countless other clocks keep time with, is off? Did they not install a patch for it? Ha, it makes me giggle to imagine having to to install any kind of software fix for something that just keeps time all day.

Makes me consider moving to Arizona where they don’t bother with all this time-changing baloney.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Happy Birthday to my honey!

Twenty one years ago today, my sweetheart was born. Had this momentous occasion not occurred, I would not be as happy as I am today. I would still be in the fashion dark ages, thinking acid-wash jeans were the epitome of cool. And even though I would think nothing of my outdated attire, I would still be wondering what was wrong with me that I was still going through life alone.

I wish I could be with you today baby, instead of sitting here at the office grumbling about my deadline-paranoid boss. I ought to fill out a PTO form right now to request our birthdays off for next year!  Ha, try to deny that! So in the meantime, in my absence, please enjoy this sensual underwater nude…

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

I like March

March is probably my favorite month of the year. It’s sort of a midpoint between winter and spring, so it’s not too cold and not too hot. Plus my birthday and my sweety’s birthday are this month as well. And as a bonus, there’s usually something pretty on the calendar, like this:

I know you love my cellphone camera skillz.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

What I hate most about myself

I’ve got a lot of flaws, as do most people. But one that I hate most, even more than my tendency for defensiveness, is being a crybaby. I find it incredibly hard to control my emotions. I wear my heart on my sleeve. You’ll know exactly how I’m feeling just by looking at me. That in itself isn’t that bad, because it makes me genuine. What I really hate is how the waterworks will swtich itself on at the slightest provocation. I get teary-eyed when I’m feeling wistful, guilty, angry, or just about any intense emotion.

This would be fine if it were limited to movies that evoke these emotions, but it happens all the time, everywhere. Whenever a conversation turns serious on a personal level, I start to choke up. I have many things I want to say but the tears start flowing and my face contorts into an ugly crybaby expression and… I just… can’t… talk. Hate. It. HATE IT! I hate it with a passion. It’s like I feel things so intensely that for some reason it always pushes my cry button. I fucking hate being a fucking crybaby. I can never get my point across and it’s more embarrassing than anything because it usually just confuses whoever I’m talking to.

I’ve been this way since childhood. My mom would be yelling at me about some damn thing (it wouldn’t take much) and I’d just stand there sniffling. She would often ask, “Why are you crying??” but usually in that angry way that means “crying isn’t going to make it all right.”

Trying to talk usually just makes things worse. It takes every ounce of control I have just to keep the tears inside. I can feel them on the surface, wanting to burst free and embarrass me yet again. Having to actually think of responses to say while on the spot like this just makes me lose it and there I go, crying like an idiot. Fucking hate it. I want to be strong, normal even. I want to be able to hold a serious personal conversation without being a blubbery mess. I want to be as verbally thoughtful and eloquent as I can be in writing. I want to be in control of myself for goodness sake.

Maybe I’m too sensitive. Everything about me is. I’m sensitive to loud noises, bright lights, allergens, criticism, and lots of other junk. Being sensitive sucks. I need a thicker shell, like a tortoise. Of course then most of my clothes wouldn’t fit…

Monday, March 05, 2007

I feel like I'm awaiting my execution

Today I am going to be called in for my annual review.  I am so not looking forward to it. I know I’ve had a bad year—I’ve hated the work, and the crap going on with the house kept me almost in a perpetually bad mood. Needless to say my productivity left a lot to be desired. They’ve already hinted they were going to address “certain issues”. Fuck. I’ve never been a bad employee before. I already know what I did wrong. Just slap my wrist and let me get back to the drudgery. Is it really necessary to schedule an hour and a half for the review?? Ugh. I can hear the red hot pokers sizzling against me already…

Friday, March 02, 2007

Addicts

I’ve never been a coffee drinker, so I don’t understand the draw. On many mornings, I have a hard time getting to the breakroom refrigerator to get the milk for my cereal.  There’s usually a crowd of addicts hovering around the coffeemakers like flies swarming a carcass. I have to weave my way through them, avoiding toes and saying “excuse me” profusely until I can open the fridge.

If something is not ready yet, I leave and come back later. But not these people. They stand there, glazed eyeballs fixed on the dripping of the coffeemakers, hypnotized like zombies. I know I’m in the minority in not being one of these coffee addicts, but that doesn’t stop me from finding it annoying. Addictions aren’t healthy.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

AT&Terminator

The merging and emerging of cell phone companies is mind boggling to me. When I first got a cell phone (it wasn’t until a few years after college when I decided I wanted one), it was with Pacific Bell Wireless. They were soon acquired by Cingular. Cingular also acquired AT&T Wireless. Now Cingular is turning into AT&T Wireless. Say what??

An astute coworker of mine likened it to that scene in Terminator 2, when the liquid metal terminator bad guy was frozen and shattered into a million pieces, then the pieces melted and started to roll towards each other to recombine back into the big bad Terminator. AT&T… one of those T’s must stand for Terminator.

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