Rave-ish: Being off sick for two days was a useful forced relaxation. I felt like crap, but I got some much-needed rest. Rant: Coming back to the shitstorm that Fat Cunt caused at work in my absence. I don't like cleaning other peoples' messes. I don't expect them to clean mine, I shouldn't have to clean theirs. Fuck her. Rant: Theorin Fleury's victim impact statement and Todd Holt's response to James' "sentence" breaks my heart. No child should have to endure what those children endured, and no victim should ever have to see their abuser given a walk like this. I have never been so ashamed to be Canadian in my entire life. Fry the fucker.
The best part is the reasoning for the sentence. His lawyer argued that yes, James did it, but he's a changed man now and hasn't sexually assaulted a child (that we know of) for quite a while now, you guys! What a fucking joke. He didn't even get a light sentence because of shitty evidence or some other procedural thing. All they did was say "yeah, but that's all in the past now" and BAM! Light sentence. Never mind the fact that this is also his second stint in jail for sexually assaulting his players.
Rant/Rave: Both my direct and over supervisor recommended me for promotion after annual reviews. I'm going to have to leave my excellent team and not work with these two guys again. I also have to interview with/send my resume to people who 1) Already know me very well. 2) People who could easily ask me for my annual review. 3) Throw a paper ball and hit my current supervisor with a note that asks "Does he suck at his job yes or no?" and have my boss throw it back. At least the raise will be anywhere from 10-20k.
RANT: After seeing pics from St Patty's Day, I'm off the CrossFit train. I thought the weight I was losing was from leaning out but after seeing the pics, I've been losing muscle. Went from 220 to 213lbs in a month. Arms- gone. Shoulders- small. Traps- flat. Back to the MBP I go.
I tripped over the rug in the bathroom and turned my right ankle, bad. Did you know those rugs that go around the toilet with that sticky stuff on the bottom don't give? AT ALL? Anyway, it's a severe soft tissue injury that could take up to 6 months to heal completely. They are worse than a break and take far longer to heal. I am on crutches. Being my right foot and that I drive a stick it hinders my braking ability some. If anyone pulls out in front of me they may die. My Boss is gone on a cruise leaving me in his position. Crutches aren't exactly fun or comfortable. My pits are bruised even with towels over the pit bruising part. They gave me no drugs. I am a drugless, bruised pit, crutch riding motherfucking GIMP. This shit sucks donkey balls. Big hairy stinky ones.
Rave: Danzig is playing Pittsburgh in June. Rave-ier: He is going to play some Misfits songs! Rant: Drawbacks of teaching. Unmotivated students. Bureaucratic rep tape. Yada yada yada.
RAVE: With my post on the previous page about my injury I have not laughed much in the last week or more. This made me spray my iced tea I had just taken a gulp of. Hilarious. Thank you JJ.
Rave: I found out that some douchebag customer of photolab where I used to work has had an internet vendetta against him for a while. He treated a girl there like absolute shit, and even though I don't think a million people calling him cocksucker could affect his ego, it makes me smile.
Rave Back from my Chicago trip...had an absolute blast. Probably the most fun I've had on a St. Patrick's Day. My 4 day bender is at an end. Think I should let my liver rest for a bit. Rant Back in shitty Ohio. Oh well, the weather is amazing right now. Rant Shelling out outrageous fees for vehicle renewal and a new license.
Rant: That was a fun couple of hours. So, I've gotten plenty of calls at work that have made me cry before, but I can usually keep it together until the call is over or, sometimes, it hits me later that night when I'm at home. I get around one a week along the lines of an eleven year old who was raped by their father, a few a week where they would've wanted it if it weren't for some health reason, and at least one a day where I'm trying to console this poor woman that has been made to feel like the devil incarnate for seeking healthcare. It's a pretty common occurrence to see the girls on my team hang up and cry for about thirty seconds until the phone rings again, they wipe their eyes, take a deep breath, and pick up with a really friendly greeting. But today I finally got a call that made me cry while I was still on it. It was one where she wanted to keep it, but her boyfriend wanted her to get an abortion but was going to leave her anyway. I was telling her that it was her choice and to not let him get in the way of something she wants if she can take care of it and that she was really early and still had plenty of time to make a decision (because we don't get commissions on booking appointments and that's why we convince thousands of women to "kill their babies," but that was a good one, ma'am). But then she continued on with the "I know but I don't want to bring a baby into a world where" line and started talking about how it wouldn't ever know its dad or an entire half of its family, and while my situation wasn't the same it still struck me at a personal level and I just started weeping. I think she could hear my voice cracking but I think I managed to stay professional and I think I helped her the best I could. Meanwhile I have all these tabs open on my screen of the latest daily updates on how fucking much Congress hates women and acts like they just go skipping into abortion clinics as a method of birth control (which they don't want us to have anyway) where a doctor punches her through the stomach to rip out a full-grown baby at 7 weeks and then slits its throat while everyone has a giggle about it and it was all just generally awesome. Then, forty minutes later my day's over and I get on my crowded rush hour train home. I luck out with a seat a few stops into the trip and sit down, relieved to just disappear into some music and get back to my apartment. After a few minutes, I start to notice that the guy sitting to my left keeps scratching his leg, which means that he's rubbing my leg with the back of his hand. He also scratches his shoulder sometimes, and when he drops his arm it brushes against my arm and the knuckles graze my boob on the way down. I let myself get on high alert for a few seconds before I calm myself down and think "Stop being so paranoid and raging feministy. This guy is just itchy. I'm sure he is honestly just scratching himself and it's just a crowded train. Not every guy on the planet is out to assault you." And I let myself be sad for a while because I hated that that was my immediate reaction and mindset, and I just wanted to assume that people were good. Well, a couple minutes of being upset with myself, sure enough, he starts to talk to me. He's pointing at my iPod screen, so I'm assuming he's asking what I'm listening to or something. You can't ignore these people. They either won't stop or they'll get really angry and that's a whole other ballpark. He didn't seem dangerous, so I tried to do my normal reaction of answering one question very curtly and unfriendly and just have all signs point to "I'm answering this one question to be nice but fucking leave me alone." I didn't take my headphones off, I didn't look at him, I didn't smile, I mumbled my answer, and just hoped he would get it. But, of course not. He wouldn't stop. Every few minutes he'd say something else to me, and kept trying to get my attention by grabbing my arm and my leg and touching my iPod (because, cool, now I have to worry about assault AND you trying to steal my iPod, thanks - and obviously the only reason I'm not talking to you is because I can't hear you, there would totally not be any other reason) even though I hadn't answered any other question since or even looked at him or even had any flicker of a reaction to him. I just kept waiting for him to stop or to get off the train and I was already upset and I just kept thinking "Don't make me fucking do it. Don't make me fucking be the girl who has to cause a scene on the rush hour 3 train. This is exactly what I fucking need right now." But he wouldn't fucking stop, so finally I had to yell as loudly as I could "STOP TOUCHING ME. I OBVIOUSLY DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU. LET ME FUCKING COMMUTE HOME FROM WORK IN PEACE." But, hey, at least my boobs weren't out and he had the potential to be attractive to somebody, so at least I didn't, you know, deserve it. In fact, I looked like shit. And whenever I have to deal with that crap when I do look like shit it makes it even worse, because damn, I really can't do anything to protect myself. So, I finally got home and I scooped up my cat (just to complete the stereotype of "woman goes home from work at Planned Parenthood, has negative interaction with man, takes solace in hugging cat") and I just had to snug him for a couple of minutes while crying to make myself feel a little better. And I just hate the world and everyone in it, is all I'm saying, and I don't want to do anything else except spoon my cat in bed forever. Or, at least until the Meetup. I'm pretty excited about the Meetup.
Rave: Interview could not have gone any better. They asked when could I start and then told me I'd hear from them next week (since it's spring break and they're heading out of town). Really, really good vibes. One of the perks is significantly reduced tuition and no fees, so a doctorate may be in the cards. I can use one of my work research projects for my thesis. I'd be the first in my family to earn a Ph.D. Whatever the next level is above awesome is, I'm looking down at it. Yeah, I'm feeling that good.
I had a very bad experience at Barrett Jaguar/Volvo of McAllen today. I was driving by, and I had a little time to kill, so I thought I’d check out the high end sports cars. I pulled up in my Trans Am, wearing a t-shirt and slacks. I looked at the Lamborghinis, Jaguars and Vipers, and then I spied a replica of “Eleanor,” the Mustang Fastback from “Gone in 60 Seconds.” I could see that it had an intercooler for a turbo/supercharger, and I was curious to see what that car was packing under the hood. Here is how the verbal exchange went when I talked with the sales manager (who will be referred to as "Willy Loman") Spoiler Me: I’d like to look under the hood of that Mustang. Willy Loman: Are you going to buy that car? Me: I don’t know, I’d have to look under the hood first. WL: I can’t do that. Me: What? Why? WL: That’s a $140,000 car, and the last thing we want is for you to scratch one of our cars. Me: I don’t want to scratch it, I want to look at the engine. WL: Let me put it to you this way, that car is already sold. It’s going to be shipped to Florida. Me: Well if it’s already sold, why is it still on the lot? Why isn’t there a sign on it saying that it’s sold? WL: Sir , this isn’t a museum where you can go look at cars. Me: I know, but before I can make a decision, I’d have to look under the hood. Wouldn’t you want to do that before you bought a car? WL: You aren’t going to buy that car. Me: How do you know that? WL: Because you’re arguing with me. Me: Is this the way you treat all of your customers? WL: Sir, I was put in charge of this place to run it as I see fit. Me: Who taught you to sell this way? WL: That’s none of your business. Me: Why can’t I see that car’s engine? WL: Because this isn’t a museum. I’m not going to argue with you sir. Me: (Sigh) Well then you have a nice day. After that I left. Keep in mind that I didn’t ask to drive it. I just asked to check it out further, like any buyer would. Barrett Jaguar Volvo 2601 W Expressway 83 PH: (956) 630-2111 | FX: (956) 630-2111
RAVE!: Holy shit. Holy, holy shit. I fly to Brazil on June 1, and just saw this: I had vague plans to be in Argentina by then, but I will move heaven and earth to attend this. My absolute loathing for Chael 'Talk ridiculous smack while juicing and then eke out a laughable decision over Bisping' Sonnen is exceeded only by my love of Anderson Silva. The only downside is that if the unthinkable happens and Silva loses in Rio, I'd say the odds of me getting stabbed are better than even. Still worth it.
Rave: It is Spring. Life is good. I just found a new level of insanity for myself with cross country running, I ran for forty-seven minutes without stopping or slowing down yesterday. For me- nothing short of amazing, especially with the ever-present bong lung. Still easing into Paleo, feeling results from the drastic reduction of processed meals, my skin has been clearing up of blemishes. Even more interesting to me is that my mood swings are few and far between lately, I went off of the pill in January and that was mildly terrifying as my hormones and I have had a long history of failure to coexist. Either my body has adjusted, or the improvement of food quality has had an impact, whatever, I'm feeling pretty good. Rave: Work has been a hell of a lot easier lately, I guess I am getting better at dealing with people. Or I go home and drink more, whatever works.
Rant? Rave? Weirdness? Mark Cuban goes to my cousin's Hip Hop Latin Fusion class. I really want to go with just to see him shake his hips. Totally manly, right? Slight Rant: Spring Break is almost over, and it rained pretty much every day. Next week when I'm indoors 40+ hours it will be gorgeous outside.
RANT: I don't do that much travelling in general and have NEVER traveled for work but I just had to turn down an all expenses paid trip to Memphis for a conference because it's during my trip to Asia. The odds of this happening were so slim it isn't even funny. Sometimes I think the world is out to get me.