Anogete's Journal

To the stupid little boys who live in the building next to me:
I gleefully watched you move your crap out of your apartment and into the back of your pickup truck this evening after work. So glad to see you moving. I'm the one responsible for kicking up the fuss that put the final nail in your coffin. Good luck finding another apartment because your rental history is currently worth shit.
No love, me.

I got a raise today. Yay for that. She's actually giving me $100 more a week, which amounts to about $2.00 more an hour, give or take. I'm on salary, so I think of it in weekly terms. Looking forward to the extra monies. I'm slightly disappointed there has not been some sort of major payroll crisis since I took over. Things are plodding along, and I'm not even all that busy. The new-to-me office can be seen in this picture and this picture, which also features my tea cart by the bookshelf. The drab carpet and terrible wallpaper are an annoyance, but I can live with them.

I'm taking over payroll completely as of Monday next week. I've run payroll checks before, so that's not a big concern of mine. However, I'm terrified I will eff up the weekly tax deposit, 401(k) contributions, or other assorted accounting issues in the general ledger or job cost. I have a pile of notes and a series of check lists to follow when performing various tasks, but I'm familiar with a good deal of it already. It will all be okay. Positive thinking. Because of various issues, I have to move offices. I've wrangled two or three manly men from the field to come in tomorrow and move furniture for me so I can have a new (bigger!) desk and a large bookcase. In the meantime, I'm trying to teach the boss's daughter how to do my job. She's quick on the uptake, but she's nervous about doing the job herself. So, I imagine she's going to be leaning on me heavily for the next two or three weeks until she can get a couple check runs under her belt and falls into the routine of accounts payable.

And, now for something completely different. Andre 3000 will tell you about picking up women in Whole Foods, and then Lloyd will make you pass out about a minute in when he tells you, "Stop... Baby, bring that thing back."

A co-worker of mine is investigating a few positions on a potential research team. Apparently, an acquaintance of hers is married to a gentleman who has just begun his own company and is attempting to gain a government contract for some sort of scientific research. She was unable to say what sort of research. At any rate, if he gets the five-year contract, he will need a staff of sixty people--scientists and research assistants to keep material organized. The contract will be awarded at the end of the month. If it is awarded to him (instead of Lockheed Martin), there is a chance I could slip in there as a research assistant to one of the scientists. I've heard the pay is stellar. Which would be so nice. But I'm not counting my chickens before they hatch and all. There are a great deal of ifs involved in this situation.

This makes me laugh each time I see it...

( qi fun )

The new guy was not ready for my ire this morning. The daily newspaper had done an article on a popular member of Twitter. As I was pouring my morning liter of water he walked into the room and I said, "I fucking hate Twitter." He asked why, and I responded, "It's just another indication of the waning attention span of this society." He nodded slowly and backed out of the room. No offense to any of you who may use Twitter. I just can't use it myself, and I don't read any 'tweets' because the one sentence thing isn't my favorite method of communication. I'm not big on text messaging either. I was just feeling especially grouchy this morning. And no one reads books any longer.

Also, this is a graph of my happiness during the day:

( wheee! )

It's a damn good thing the office is closed on Friday because I'm close to losing my mind. I have such resentment toward my co-workers, and I have no idea where it came from. Weekends are not long enough.

I found my copy of Bat Out of Hell tonight. I remember when I was in elementary school, they were giving away a copy of Bat Out of Hell II at the school's carnival. The parents threw a tantrum because they believed it to be a horrible, devilish, explicit piece of trash. Being twelve, I believed them. Fifteen years later and Jim Steinman (the songwriter for those two albums) is one of my favorites. He can be heard performing the male half of the spoken word bit at the beginning of this song:



That intro always gets me. I love it far too much. Jim, why are you such a genius? And why did the English version of Tanz der Vampire get so effed up? You deserve better. And I deserve to see the damn musical without traveling to Germany or Japan.

Hey, if any of you need inspiration for writing smutty-smut, then you could always think about how to get one of the characters to remove his/her clothing in less than seven seconds like this Japanese fellow...

( oooh, stripper )

That's skillz, man.

Work was craptacular today. I ended up with a dust mask and gloves on, shifting through old company records from the 1980s and 1990s. All of it had been stored in a building off-site, and that building had been invaded by rats and other assorted furry creatures with diseases. We're sending most of it away to be shredded, but someone had to sift through it all and pull out the things that should to be kept. I felt like I needed two showers when I got home.

I took the day off just because I could. None of my co-workers called me, so I suppose the office didn't blow up without me. Jason also took the day off. We went shopping for used books, ate lunch on the patio of my favorite sandwich place, and took Ferguson to the park on our way home. My condolences go out to everyone who is covered in snow. It's sunny and 75 degrees here. I love it.

Because I had extra time to play around in the kitchen today, I made dessert. Jason's inordinately excited about the prospect of eating pudding.

( grasshopper parfaits - pictures and recipe behind the cut )

I don't have twelve dessert glasses, so I just made the two and left the other ingredients in the separate bowls in the fridge for later use. I had to buy an entire pack of Oreos to make the damn things, so now I'm going to have to find a non-wasteful way of getting rid of the rest of the package without eating them myself. I do not need Oreo cookies. I do not need Oreo cookies.

I love buying organic, and I try to use organic products as much as I can. Organic soaps, lotions, shampoos, hair conditioners, household cleaners, fruits, vegetables, food in general, etc. I've learned where to draw the line, though. The line? Organic deodorant. Simply put, it doesn't work. Learned that today. Eww.

My A Song of Ice and Fire calendar had been delivered to the apartment office when I got home yesterday. OMG--I lurv all the pretty pictures. And, and, and, there is one of Sandor! I fangirl Sandor Clegane like whoa. Actually, I also fangirl Sandor/Sansa. It's my M.O. (older--tortured--man/younger woman), so what am I gonna do, you know. Also, Jon Snow, why are you so freakin' hawt?

You know that song by Outkast? Roses? Greg Dulli covered it on the DVD I have of a Twilight Singers concert. I know you like to think your shit don't stick, but lean a little bit closer. See, roses really smell like boo-boo. They jam and Greg charms the audience for a little over a minute before the song proper begins.

Holy crap, will this audit ever end? I want to throw writing implements against the walls of my office. Also, the auditor's assistant came in wearing a plaid cape this morning. Part of me wants to like it, but another part of me is wondering why she's wearing a cape. Jason's mom told me capes are "totally in" right now, but I'm just not seeing it. Really?

Jason was hanging around the kitchen yesterday after work while I was making dinner. He had went to his therapy session earlier in the day and obviously wanted to talk about it, so I asked him how it went. He said, "I drew a picture of you like the one I drew at my grandmother's house." Before Christmas, we were at his paternal grandmother's house and, out of boredom, he drew a picture of me looking angry and petulant. We both laughed about it because it actually looked rather accurate. Anyway, I laughed at him and called his bluff, saying that he most certainly did not draw another picture of me like that. Jason isn't the type to go for therapy of that nature, especially since he isn't an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He admitted that he had not drawn any pictures, but that he had spoken of me to his therapist. I didn't ask any follow up questions because anything he said, even if it was about me, isn't really my business. After a couple beats of silence, he grabbed me from behind and kissed me, then said that everything he told his therapist about me was positive. Then he ambled off to the music room to check his e-mail. It was a pleasant surprise, not what I was expecting. We get along very well, but I know I'm not the easiest person to live with. It's nice to know I'm appreciated. He was very lovey-dovey this morning, too. Usually, mornings consist of avoiding each other as much as possible and conversations carried by grunts and snorts. A kiss good morning is absolutely unheard of unless it's a weekend. Maybe the therapy thing is helping him more than I thought it would.

I half-heartedly worked on the paperwork for a bid yesterday at work. We submitted it in the early afternoon and found out minutes later that we have been awarded the project. The first project we've managed to snag in months. Even though it is a small one--only $400,000--it's still a step in the right direction. We really need to acquire more work if we want to avoid laying anyone off. It's a miracle that hasn't happened yet.

Jason and I have been watching Wolf's Rain, but I just can't seem to get into the flow of the show. I suppose this is because I don't particularly care about any of the characters and the entire presentation comes across as too kiddish--like I should be watching it at 3:00 in the afternoon on Cartoon Network. And I'm not into that sort of anime.

Holy crap, it's Friday, the 13th, you guys.

I've been tempted many a time in the past two weeks to write scathing comments about our government and the course they have decided to put our country on, but I've resisted. It would just end up being a rant of epic proportions in which nothing is resolved or changed. I fear for our collective future. Nineteen Eighty-Four, here we come.

I am fairly sure my current mood was derived from multiple sources, the foremost being my three-hour romp at the Motor Vehicle Department during two different instances today. However, the role of severe PMS cannot be discounted as another major contributing factor.

( oh god, the bitching )

I'm an idiot. And I hate PMS. I also hate: the MVD, everyone who left me a voice mail message at work, half of my co-workers, the fact that I didn't work out today, my vagina, razor burn, leg hair, work in general, mildew in the shower, the world.

EDIT: And to top all this off... I sent my mother some of the pictures I had taken at the park--the ones I posted here last week. I linked each picture in my Photobucket separately instead of giving her the address of my Photobucket account. My mother was whining to my brother about having to click on each picture separately, and my effin' brother showed her how to modify the URL to access my Photobucket. Dammit! Traitor! Now my mother has access to all my weirdness, which includes all the pictures of fictional characters I go goo-goo over and possibly other embarrassing pictures I wouldn't necessarily want her to see because they may or may not be offensive. In the grand scheme of things, not a big deal. I'm not going to die of embarrassment anytime soon. But is nothing sacred, little brother? Can't your big sis have her fandom fun without you showing mom all her dirty little online sekrets? I didn't tell her about the anime porn you downloaded years ago. Not even the tentacle porn you had on the family computer.

+ I love the butternut squash ravioli Lean Cuisine with the veggies. Love it. I need to figure out how to make this myself without spending an obscene amount of money on these tiny frozen meals.

+ Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookies will be the death of me. Why are they so delicious? Why?!?!

+ Jason is still having trouble sleeping. Therefore, I am still having trouble sleeping. He, of course, has taken the day off work to catch up on his sleep. I don't have the luxury since a bid of epic proportions is going out this afternoon, and no one else knows how to put it together.

+ Work is a writhing mass of stupid. I'm attempting to get the company's insurance coverage and payments sorted out, and everyone before me has made a mess of it without taking notes. I feel like I've been handed a wad of knotted yarn. No matter how hard I try, I can't get it untangled.

+ My co-workers are competing for the title of Most Injured Office Employee this week. Everyone in here has some sort of problem from potentially broken ribs to the glands under their tongues being swollen. Me? My calves are just sore from my exuberant use of the incline function on the treadmill.

+ Instead of reading last night, I watched the fifth and sixth episodes of this past series of Spooks. Richard Armitage, why do you have to be as delicious as a Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookie? I swoon even when you're telling me children's bedtime stories.