Random Photo of the Day - Strawberry Pick

Picking Strawberries in Missouri, Spring 2006

Yahoo Photos is Dying, Damn It

So, I don't know if anyone else uses Yahoo Photos. I do, or did, a lot. It seems they're going kaput in September. WHY!?!?! I have really loved Yahoo photos. It's a great place to store and organize photos, show them to friends and family, and make prints. I've done all three in the past few years. I'm really bummed out they're ending their service. Anyway, they say you have to choose one of the five following photo services by September or risk losing all your photos forever (bastards). I don't know much about ANY of them, but certainly don't want to lose my pics. Anyone have advice on what to choose or NOT choose? Thanks.

Crazy Carla

There should be no gasp of surprise from anyone who has ever read this blog that whatever my current job is, there's bound to be some crazy people about. The strange thing this time, is that someone who was somewhat normal, has had a sudden attack of the bizarros. The antics serve me well in my frequent bouts of boredom.

I've mentioned the "accountant" in the office before. She's technically not an accountant, but close enough. When I first started, she made me rather crazy, because every simple question, like, "Where do I put this folder?" was met with a 5-minute, mind-numbing, condescending speech. After a couple of weeks, just when I was ready to claw my eyes out, she let up, and though she had her occasional quirks of annoyingness and displays of painfully awkward social skills, overall she was a nice woman and harmless.

So, "Carla," has just recently ...um...changed. Normally, Carla sits in a room by herself, where, as she often reminds anyone who doesn't care to know, she "processes 5000 forms a year." (It's gotten to the point that every time I hear her say that now, I have to quickly think of scenes of torture to keep from snickering). She occasionally peeks out, but for the most part keeps to herself. She's not very chatty, and my repeated attempts to joke with her have fallen flat. Real flat.

As I also have previously mentioned, we have two big chiefs here in the office, a man and a woman, as different from each other as chalk and cheese. Carla has some sort of attachment to the male one, El Jefe. He's a tough nut to crack - sometimes jovial and full of trivia (I'm a big trivia fan myself and can rarely stump him), and sometimes unnecessarily ruthless and cruel. It all started a couple weeks ago when an announcement was made through email regarding El Jefe. Carla started emerging from her office. She was cranky and mean. The first instance, Carla came out to my desk, stared straight at me, and held up a form I had just given her.

Carla: *intense glare* Why did you stamp this HERE?
Me: Wha? Oh, it was a mistake.
Carla: But I don't understand, *incoherent mutterings* why did you stamp it HERE?
Me: *pause in confusion* Look. *looking her straight in the eye* It. Was. A. Mistake.
Carla: *mutters incoherently and waddles off*

Explanation: Basically, the "5000 forms" she processes a year go through me first. There are hundreds of other forms that also go through me, but are then directed to other people in the office. I date-stamp each and every one with my happy little stamp, and pass them on. It's really just for our own reference IN CASE we need to know later when a form came in. Some people have specifically requested I do not stamp directly on the form, but date-stamp a tiny little post-it instead. Sure, no problem. But Carla wants ALL her forms directly stamped upon. On that day, I just happened to accidentally stamp a sticky note instead. Well, that's when I got the visit and the look of death.

Since then, Carla's behavior has intensified. She started coming out to my office (which is in a separate room) and saying, "Where's El Jefe?" "Where's La Jefa?" When are they coming back? Did they leave for the day?" It's not something she needs to know, but not being that big of a deal, I'd look at their calendars and tell her. "No, he's just at a meeting. He should be back at 10." She also started asking about the other employees in the office. "Where did she go? Is she at a meeting? Did she go to get coffee? We're the only ones here!" This has gotten to the point where she's asking me 6-7 times a day on her bosses' whereabouts.

Typically, several times a day, El Jefe will have his door closed. Sometimes he's got someone in there, sometimes he wants his privacy. She has started coming up to another employee who's desk is in front of his door. "Who's in there with him?" Carla demands. The employee will shrug. She then comes out to my office. "Who's in there with him?" If I know, I'll tell her. If I don't, she retreats to her office. But the other employee has told me that every 10 minutes, particularly every time she hears a sound, her head will poke out from around the corner looking to see if anyone is emerging from El Jefe's office. This has recently increased to a near-constant level, and is frankly looking like some sort of mental problem, but what, I have no idea. Obsessive-compulsive disorder?

The third thing, is that Carla has started to leave the office for brief periods of time. Typically, this is no big deal, and I don't usually care what people do with their own lives, but it's gotten to the point where it's every 10-30 minutes she's out the door. I have no idea where she goes or what she does. As an experiment, I ticked on a post-it each time she left. In one day, she left 13 times! (This is not counting leaving for lunch, or whatever).

Other people in the office have noticed and have gone from annoyance to rage since Carla's non-stop inquiries are disruptive. What makes it kind of funny, is that Devout Christian Office Manager Woman is just seething and fantasizing about catapulting Carla's carcass to a faraway land. Office Woman keeps coming out to my office, her face frozen in an intense angry expression, where she'll just explode over Carla's non-stop inquiries. Ah yes, everything's a soap opera around here. Steve may think I attract it, I think I just step into it like dog doo.

As for Carla's manic behavior, I've been told this has happened in the past, usually during high-stress times. I really don't know what to make of it. I just stay calm and answer her questions, but it's getting to the point where I want to say, "WHAT THE FUCK, CRAZY CARLA?" But again, with my status as "expendable temp," I'm just trying to keep my mouth shut. For now, I'll just enjoy Crazy Carla's antics, and hope it's nothing serious.

Ruined Taste Buds

Bred-for-shelf-life American produce has ruined my lovely taste buds! At least, for bok choy.

Beau and I (though he will say, "Just you, J."), have a community garden plot not too far from our house. Since I am tomato-obsessed, I currently have filled the majority of the plot with -nineteen- tomato plants (with only 2 duplicates in the bunch). So, there are a healthy 17 different ones out there - big fat beefmasters, crazy Cherokee purples, lovely Lemon pears, early Oregon Springs, bazillions of various Cherries (well, I hope there will be), and so on and so on. Damn all those who tell me I can't grow tomatoes in Montana - for I will! *stomps foot* Hence the giant tomato experiment - SOME of these will grow to, literal, fruition. About 2/3 of the plants already have tomatoes. We'll see what happens in the next few months. I'm excited! But then, I'm a geek.

And why do gardeners have such a hard-on for the garden tomato? Why, because the flavor of that home-grown beauty is so powerful, so wonderful, so juicy, that many say, "You can just eat them right off the bush, just like an apple!" Yes, the delightfully overwhelming flavor of the garden!

So, bordering the garden like a giant picture frame, we've planted lots of the quickie stuff like snow and sugar snap peas and bok choy (as well as the tons and tons of herbs I require). And a couple of eggplants as well. We were excited for the bok choy, since as major cookers of Asian food, we use various types of bok choy on a fairly regular basis. And when that bok choy grew, oh baby, those mo fo's GREW! Four bok choys soon became as big as your head. Then they became bigger. Then Beau started calling them Seymour. Fearing they may take over this planet, we picked one, and surprisingly, with one gentle tug, it obligingly popped right out of the ground. Wow! We were going to have fresh, garden bok choy! Yes!

Well, I was the first to cook it, since Beau was at Wally World cursing his existence. I made myself some stir fry, a common dish when I'm alone on the weekend and wanting to be full for most of the day. I put in plenty of the bok choy, excited at its hearty goodness to come.

As I began to dig in to the stir fry a short while later, I excitedly spooned some of the veggie into my mouth. I chewed. I hmmmed. I furrowed my brow. I took another spoonful for a more thoughtful examination. I chewed. I hmmmmed some more and then felt only confusion.

I didn't really like it.

I kept eating it, thinking I just wasn't really getting the right taste. I mean, I love bok choy! And of course, THIS was bok choy in all its natural glory. But as I found myself avoiding the veggie as my spoon dipped into the bowl, instead vying for the mushrooms, tomatoes, or tofu, I knew it was true.

It was yucky.

Okay, it wasn't yucky yucky. It was just STRONG. Real strong. Like, "HELLO, I'M BOK CHOY!" strong. Like pinch-you-on-the-arm-real-hard-like-a-dick strong. I was so disappointed, in both the bok choy and myself. Could I really be the great lover of food I professed to be? The great American chef of Southeast Asian cuisine? Here was fresh, organic, healthy, vegetables, and I was turning up my nose at its....flavor? *sigh* Had my taste buds been absolutely ruined from years and years of ginormous grocery store fare that was grown to live on the shelf as long as possible and had abandoned taste many moons ago?? It seems so.

A few days later I made stir fry again, this time for both Beau and I, and carted it off to Wally World, where on his break, we found a nice patch of grass in the shade and began to eat. I was hoping the first time had been a fluke, so I had included the bok choy again.

Beau chewed. He hmmmed. His stoic face twitched.

"Do you like it?" I asked studying his face closely.

"I don't know," he said, reaching for another spoonful.

Beau does not always come to quick decisions. This is not a sign of stupidity, but of thoughtfulness. And if you ever read The Introvert Advantage, the Introvert-Extroverts' version of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, you'll find out it's true.

As the meal progressed and we ate more stir fry, the prevalence of bok choy in the bowl and disappearance of all other vegetables was apparent. It seemed that Beau didn't like it much either. "It's strong," he said. I could only nod and sigh.

Each time since then when I returned to the garden, the remaining three bok choys loomed in ferocity. I finally asked our next door neighbor, a very jovial man named Neal, if he liked bok choy. "Sure!" he exclaimed, "I can put it in stir fry."

"It's as big as your torso," I said.

He laughed, "Okay!"

I plucked another out of the ground and after Beau hacked off its unseemly roots, we stuck it in a plastic bag and hung it on his door.

We haven't heard from him since.

The next time I went to the garden, a woman was working her plot next to mine. "Hi there. You like bok choy?" I asked with a smile with wattage that would light up an auditorium. "Oh, I like to make stir fry," she said. "Great! Here you go!" and before she could say another word, I had tugged another out of the ground and held it to her startled face. She was overwhelmed by both its size and the gesture.

"Don't mention it!" I waved before I got in my car and drove off.

Three down, one to go. Here's hoping better luck in some of the other garden mates. In the past I never did find eggplant to have much of a strong taste....

Public Service Announcement to All Men Regarding Cologne

On behalf of all women, I'd like to make this public service announcement:

Dear Men of the United States,

Cologne is a wonderful thing, and the majority of women I know really really love it on you. But here's the problem: 95% of you wear the crappiest, nastiest, gag-inducingest cologne that was ever concocted. Where do you buy that shit, Dollar General?

Please, take my advice....

When shopping for a cologne, head to a nice department store. This is a project, you're not picking up a six-pack. The bottle you buy will (SHOULD) last you at least six months, probably longer, depending on how often you wear it (NOT how MUCH you wear!), so it's an investment of sorts. Give it a LITTLE thought and time. Once you pick one, you can stick with it for years -- it'll be your "signature scent." People will get a whiff of it and instantly think of you in warm and fuzzy ways (unless it's an ex-girlfriend, then one whiff will induce a split-second bout of homicidal rage). Besides, due to the fact that if you make the wrong choice, you're going to totally gross us all out forever, please, give pause!

In fact, if you're pressed for time, and like most men, this is just TOO annoying, casually stroll up to 2 or 3 counters and request a sample. Pick anything. If you're in a Dillards, Boston Store, or Macy's, pretty much all of it is going to be good quality. Maybe they'll give you a tiny little sample bottle, or if they're el cheapos, they'll hand you a little paper stick. If it's the latter, stick it in your pocket or your wallet. Shit, you've already got 10,000 useless slips of paper in there already, what's one more? Pull out the sample once in awhile and give it a sniff. If your instant reaction isn't "Mmmm nice," then eliminate it immediately. There is no "maybes" in cologne. This is how I found my current perfume - Dolce & Gabbana's Light Blue (the name is just a coincidence). When rushing from work to the subway each night, I walked through Macy's and nabbed two samples. As I was waiting for the train and on the way home, I'd smell each one. It wasn't until I had Light Blue that I went, "Yes, that's the one!" You'll just want to keep smelling it. Just like the love of your life, you'll just know. Quickly buy a somewhat large bottle and take it home. Congratulations!

If any cologne you're considering is under 20 bucks, put it the FUCK back. It's gross. This is one of those categories where what you spend is what you get. Really. You can have your nasty Head & Shoulders shampoo, your icky Zest soap, but when it comes to cologne, don't be a cheap bastard.

Now that you're home, what next? Well, remember, this is not a shower, and you're not covering up any weird smells (and if you are, go to the doctor, Dorcus Aurelius). Just splash a bit on, maybe your neck, wherever guys put it, I don't know. I've always thought the chest a good place. If you are leaving a Pig Pen-like cloud of stank when walking by, that's too much! If you hear furious coughing when passing strangers, that's too much! If someone says, "Does it smell like a pine forest in here to you?" that's not only too much, but it's the WRONG cologne.

This is how it's done....your sitting at your computer...minding your own business, not trying to be a playah...a woman walks up to you and leans over your shoulder to read your computer screen. She's chatting with you...and it's THEN that she feels it...it doesn't hit her, it tickles her, seduces her, caresses her. She'll breathe in deeply, then feel momentarily breathless, and her heart will pick up a few beats more per minute. She'll feel an instant surge of attraction toward you. She'll want to be physically closer to you. As any woman who has experienced a really nice cologne on a man, she'll tell you, it's a powerful aphrodisiac and we like it!

Trust us, when you do it right, it works REALLY REALLY WELL. You may think you're too butch to be bothered, but in the end, if you're making us all hot and bothered, don't you think you could climb down from that high horse and make the time? I do.

Thank you.
J. Cullinane

P.S. Perfumes of America is a website that can sell you expensive brands for cheap cheap! So, if you balk at the department store price, find what you like then go online.

P.P.S. Do not buy Drakkar Noir. No one with any remote sense of non-dorkness has worn that since 1990. And ladies, don't buy Eternity, please! There's a reason every time I get a whiff of it I'm transported back to my high school days.

Blah blah blahppity blah!

Yeah, that about sums it up. As usual, all workin workin workin, and not much play. Pretty soon I'm going to take a chainsaw to the nice old man in my life.

I've also not been posting because the past two weeks have been pretty rough and you just get tired of writing the "Woe is me!" posts. You want to write about good news or funny stories, but both are running a bit thin. As Chris Rock said,
"Stop telling me the same shit, over and over! Why don't you go out and get kidnapped, have some new shit happen to you!"

In some good news, I haven't had to work with Angie, hardly at all, since my last post. She's gone to days for the most part, where she's making a whole new batch of friends. Our paths barely crossed over the weekend, though she was up to her old habit of assigning tasks to fellow employees -- the ones who don't challenge her. There's this teenage boy named Christian. He's about 6'4, somewhat gangly, with a mop of blonde hair covering his blue eyes. He's just a sweetheart, and rather harmless, kind of like a great dane puppy. As I was standing there, he was paged by Angie, who, on her way to punch out, started assigning him things to do. "I'd ask J.," she said, "But she hates me." Well, not that I want people to think I HATE them, even if I do, but at least it's good for something. "Tell her 'no!'" I exclaimed. He just kind of shrugged nervously and smiled. I felt like patting his head.

I finally closed with her on Monday night, and was completely shocked to find her behavior totally different. She was quiet, she wasn't constantly paging fellow employees, nor did she do her drive-by inspections. Even the other employees noticed it. I did what I always do when I completely can't stand someone - I stayed out of her way. I know there are people in our lives we may really dislike, but I also don't believe in treating them like dogshit or trying to start stuff with them. Basically, my philosophy is back off and leave them alone. Put as much distance between them and I as I can. If they want to mess with me, I can respond, though I find that so tiresome. So, I've left Angie to her own devices. That girl will hang herself.

Another piece of good news is that for the first time since I started at Shop-n-Smile at the beginning of March, I will have THE ENTIRE WEEKEND OFF! Yes, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (they tend to think that just giving you ONE of those days off is some kind of privilege). They have recently rotated bosses around at the store, and the new one is a true Shop-n-Smile disciple and pushes everyone to be the same. I just want to go, "Dude! Look around you! You've got tired, old fart me who's working a second job, and a bunch of teenagers coming here after school. We're not converts, we just need some extra cash." After numerous promises of lightening my schedule (we've had about EIGHT employees quit in the past three weeks), and numerous promises broken, he finally did what he said and gave me one free weekend. I'm so giddy I can barely stand it. Tomorrow will be my 19th day straight working 8-13 hours a day, so as you can imagine, I need the break!

I have no idea what I'm going to do, especially since Beau will be working full-time both Saturday and Sunday, but I hope it involves lots of low-key things like sleeping, gardening, playing Civ IV, cleaning our yucky apartment (we hardly eat or just LIVE in the place anymore), teaching my cat how NOT to steal my pantyhose, and watching lots of gory forensic shows. I've been dying to fly my kite which is still in the packaging, and REALLY want to go tubing, which is a big past time here, but that'll have to wait for another time. Maybe we'll even squeeze in dinner and a movie one night.

And in even better news, Beau and I will be celebrating our 1st wedding anniversary in early July. I'd like to say, "Wow, the year went by so fast!" but Ha Ha Ha! No. It was a long and crazy year, but a really amazing one too. It's going to take a whole 'nother year just to recover from it. We've lived in four states (if you count NYC for me and our brief stint in Wisconsin) and two countries. Here's hoping we can tone that down to one country and/or one state from now on.

I've even asked for the whole anniversary weekend off and we'll be going camping up near Libby, Montana, where there are lots of "Beau's special places." For him, it's the kind of places where you are hip-deep in a river fly fishing, with mountains all around you and NO ONE (no one), for miles and miles around. Very A River Runs Through It. It sounds really nice, and a little scary. I've been slowly collecting camping equipment for the big trip (three days is a BIG trip for us), though Beau thinks I'm insane for insisting on bringing the air bed.

- "It'll pop."
- "No, it won't. And besides, I got this gorgeous blue blanket to take with us...it'll be so great. I got it for 65% off and it's Columbia brand, so you know it's good. And it's just like a down blanket, but you can WASH it! And what do you want us to do, sleep on the GROUND?!"

I know the cowboy inside him is screaming his fucking head off.

School's Out For Summer! NOOooooo!

Beau and I are in (another) state of employment horror. For him, with high school ending today, the more interesting of his 3 jobs (substitute teaching and bus driving) will come to an abrupt end (as well as its paychecks). This leaves him with Wally World, a job that he finds agonizing at the best of times. The possibility of now having to increase his hours there gives him with the willies. Poor guy. :(

For me, my temp job, which (for Montana..and like, the country of Laos) has decent pay, has been a bit of a catch-22 in itself. I like the people I work with and for, and when I'm actually GIVEN work, it can be fun. Sadly, most of the time I'm rather idle (notice frequent blog postings) and begging for things to do. It's amazing how many personal projects and habits you can drum up on the web or in MS Word. I even created a spreadsheet of the 18 tomato plants in my garden to track their growth/productivity. I know, fucking insane.

But even those psycho projects don't always get you through an 8-hour workday. I was overjoyed when one of the big bosses returned from an extended vacation, because she's the only one who gives me the juicy stuff.

Anyway, when they originally poached me from another department, they made it sound like this job was going permanent shortly, and as long as I played my cards right, I was in there. I made it very clear in the interview that I had been doing this admin stuff a long time, and I wasn't looking for another entry-level clerical bit. I wanted something with substance! I knew it was a bit of a gamble, different than the usual "I'll do anything you want, just give me the job!" that usually goes on in interviews, but it was important to me.

That was about 3 1/2 months ago. Now, my temp assignment has been pushed forward until the beginning of August, which is good and bad. I still have a job until August, good, but do I have one AFTER that? Bad. There is a "valid" reason for extending the temp job instead of going permanent now, but that doesn't make it any easier to wait. Plus, it will have to be open up to everyone at that point. I'm fine with that, though going through the whole cover letter/interview process again makes me feel tired.

In addition, the big cheese who likes me a lot and gives me the "good" work, basically has made it clear that I should definitely be doing a higher level job (it's all about levels here), that I am way over-qualified for this one, etc. etc. She even wrote me a wonderful rec letter when she went on vacation, assuming I'd be applying for other jobs while she was gone (I did, just one). That may be true, but when you're faced with a somewhat boring job that pays you real money, and a wonderful job that doesn't exist (see: UNEMPLOYED), the boring job wins every time. But even with her flattery, her continuous comments like, "Well, you'll be gone anyway," make me hella nervous (and a little paranoid). This job pays the rent, period. Shop-n-Smile pays a couple of bills and covers the money I sink back into it when I bring home things for our now-not-so-empty house.

What this means is that by August 1, Beau will be a full-time Wally World employee and I may be full-time at Shop-n-Smile, a possibility that makes me want to burst into uncontrollable sobbing.

I've talked to the Office Manager, the one writing up the job description for my position when it goes perm. She has assured me that the position will be much more complex (see: interesting), and have a heavier workload, ergo, I will probably want it (and probably have no other alternatives). But there's lots of cloak and dagger stuff going on, and boy, do I HATE that.

Ms. Office Manager (MOF) is an interesting woman. She's a bit older, and a very kind, very religious woman. She seems very representative of the majority of long-term administrators here at the university, both physically and personality-wise. I don't think she is malicious in any way, but I think working in an office of constant chaos, intrigue, and instability has made her a bit of a player by necessity. She is in charge of me, the accountant, and the other office guy, but the three of us basically work on our own. Above her are three very powerful big cheeses who tell her (and us) what to do.

I liked MOF immediately. She's easy to talk to and likes to laugh. We've talked and talked, and she's shared a lot of personal stories with me. But lately, I've been getting the heebee jeebees here, particularly in regards to my own position, and it's mostly due to her. And I can't figure out WHAT is going on. (Geez, where has THIS happened before?). There are more examples of the office intrigue that has gone on in the last few weeks, but again, I'm too freaked to detail it. Let's just say there's been lots of closed doors and lots of territorial moves.

Since I first began this position, there has been very little for me to do. I have a list of daily duties, some interesting, some menial (making coffee, cleaning a conference room). And since I am a person who goes nutso if not busy, I have consistently asked MOF for work - via email, to her face, through notes, etc. Every time I ask, I get the same answer, "Oh, I have so much to do, so SO much to do! As soon as I get organized, I'll give you stuff to do." So, I always smile and say, "Sure," and go back to my desk and wait.

Here's the problem: the only thing I have ever gotten from her EVER is photocopying jobs. An exception is that I got to write out a couple of carbon forms by hand (press hard!) and 3-hole punch forms and put them in massive binders. I don't get it. She assures me that I am already in my short time here doing "much more work" than my predecessor (who was abruptly transferred). "What did she do all day?" I ask. "I have no idea," is the answer. Everyone seems really happy with the work I'm doing. So, why MOF keeps me stagnant is beyond comprehension, and testing my sanity. I started asking other people in the office if they need help, and that's when the one big cheese started giving me real good stuff to do, and she loves when I help her since she loves that I write well and can write it in all that academic speak. I just love having something challenging to do that really makes me think. But with MOF's lack of delegation, I just sit here, and try to come up with stuff to do. That only gets me so far until I'm back writing blogs and reading the IMDB.

Even the accountant, a woman who is nice, but also at times excruciatingly annoying ("Why did you stamp it there instead of here?"), came up to me the other morning and just released a spew of frustration in regards to MOF: "I don't get it. Why isn't she teaching you things? Why isn't she giving you more to do? How are you supposed to know if you like this job at all if you're not taught what it is? What's going on?"

Besides being slightly stunned by this outburst, I didn't know what to say or do. Although inside I was cheering and going, "No shit! What the fuck? Go on with your bad accountant self!" I knew I had to be careful. This is an office of one person playing another, so I wasn't going to trash my direct boss with my job still in purgatory mode. And again, I really do like MOF, but I'm growing a bit resentful. I'm trying to hide it, and since my job involves a lot of interaction with various people, I make sure to do lots of smiling and chatting with everyone who comes to our office.

She's picking up on something though, because she approached me and asked me if something was wrong. I had already twice approached her asking her what was going on with my position, was given vague assurances but nothing concrete, so there really wasn't any need to broach that subject again. I feel like I'm purposefully kept at bay and I can only fathom two conclusions: 1) is that she's not interested in having me stick around. Why train someone you're going to let go anyway? Or 2) I'm a threat because I have more experience than her and could do her job (fairly easily).

I have made not a single peep in regards to having any interest in what she does. I have tried to keep my head down this whole time. I really don't know how to prove myself more, and I know I'm doing a good job. The new super big cheese will be starting around the time my temp job ends, and MOF has absolutely TIED herself to his desk chair. I don't blame her - he must seem like salvation to her - a calm, nice man after a period where MOF was treated harshly and with some disrespect. And him coming from another university, it's clear he looks to her for a great deal of guidance about what's going on, so I know if she wants me out, I'm probably out.

Grrrr it's so aggravating! If the past 12 years of my full-time employment hadn't gone so well, with great jobs, great co-workers, and (for the most part), great bosses, I would really start thinking the problem was ME. But I am absolutely sure it's not. Not to mention, I've received a raise and/or promotion at nearly every job I've had, usually within a few months.

I'm not looking for that speedy kind of ascent here, just a decent, full-time, 9-5 job with benefits that I can stick with. I want a job I can enjoy - doesn't have to be Cirque du Soleil - but not something I dread going to either. I want something that will pay our bills, and in many years from now, I will retire happily from. I want a workplace that is at least relatively free from office intrigue and ambiguity and backbiting. I want a challenging job with clear goals and duties that I can attack each day with gusto and enthusiasm! I just want to be an administrator, not a sky-diving instructor! Have I just been really fucking lucky the past decade and now my luck's run out? Cause it feels like everything I touch in Missoula turns to horseshit. I've only had one job with this amount of politics going on, and that was in a foreign country! This is just...MONTANA!

Seriously, am I asking for too much?
---
Postscript:
Today I got off the phone with another UM employee. Depressing conversation. A really nice guy whom I have only heard good things about from other university people. He and his wife are in the same boat as Beau and I. Both have advanced degrees, good experience, but both have not been able to find good work, and when they think they do, get jerked around. This guy will soon, and quite suddenly and unexpectedly, lose his job here at the university, through another one of these messed up, political situations. He's naturally feeling pretty freaked out by it all. Like us, he's not sure what to do. He likes Missoula, but as he said, "it seems like everyone here has a chip on their shoulder." He's ready to sell the house and get out. "I just don't get it," he said.

Skunk Postscript

So, sometime late last night, just barely after I had fallen asleep (Beau, of course, had already been asleep for a bit. He can fall asleep mid-sentence, HIS mid-sentence). I woke up and was fondled by a fairly generous cloud of skunk stank. I could hardly believe it, and was somewhat amused, though not much is funny at 1:00am. It wasn't overpowering, kind of like when you pass the peak of smell on a highway, but it was still hard to ignore. I groggily informed Beau, and we then commenced a brief debate on whether the skunk was pissed and had actually shot its wad, or was just leisurely walking around, scent wafting from its behind. We weren't very articulate, or coherent for that matter. At that hour, it's like two zombies trying to debate politics.

I _calmly_ slid the window shut and we both went back to sleep. Strangely enough, I didn't smell it at all when I left the house at about 7:40 this morning. I still find the whole thing so weird, since like I said, we're on the third floor of an apartment building in a somewhat-contained complex. We are surrounded by treeless fields, but they basically consist of a lumber yard, city dump, cemetery, and the I-90 highway (I know, glamorous). The only thing with a heartbeat I've seen in our area are birds, though after living in Roadkill Central, Missouri for awhile, every time I drive by fields I'm on the lookout for deer.

Ah well, seems we have a new nocturnal friend. And I think he's pissed off.

Guest Blog by Beau: Skunk Backstory

Back when I was in my twenties, I lived in Kansas out in the country. We had a house that had a bit of a crawlspace under it. One day I was inside when I heard the dogs starting to make all this racket. Naturally, I went to check it out. The dogs were barking up a storm at something in the crawlspace, so I took a peek under, and sure enough, there's a skunk sitting in there. So, after getting the dogs back, I went and got my 22-250. Crawling under the crawlspace, I aimed, shot and killed the skunk. Needless to say, there were a few things I didn't consider...

- The concussion from the gun going off in that tight crawlspace area. With the *boom* of the gun, my ears rang and hurt like hell. It'd be like putting your head in 55 gallon drum and having someone beat on it with a sledgehammer.

- Killing a skunk does exactly what you were trying to prevent -- release its stink. Immediately upon its death, I was assaulted with the unbelievable, full-on stench of the skunk. It craps out this real thick yellow stuff; it's like baby poop. It's one of those most horrendous smells you ever smelt; it immediately makes your throat constrict, and at the same time you're gagging, your eyes are burning.

To make matters worse, after this was all over, I had to go back into the crawlspace and pull out the dead body and dispose of it.

So, I have my reasons....

("Even though we're on the third floor on an apartment building..." says J.)

Yes. Even though.

Pillow Talk

This morning, while deep within a lovely sleep, I am violently awakened by this:

"Damn, it's a skunk!"

*rapid WHOOOOOSH sound of window above our heads being slammed shut*

Groggy/Heart-attack victim J murmurs.: Um, Beau, it's going to get real hot in here real fast.

"But there's a skunk out there. It'll stink up the whole house."

Beau goes back to sleep.
-------------------------------
Is that like, a form of sleep-walking? Beau, must have subconsciously known of his utter dorkiness, for he got up early this morning and made cinnamon rolls. He somewhat remembers his little spaz attack, but claims it was probably an emission from ME that caused his psychotic outburst.

Boys are dumb.

Knocked Me Up!

Speaking of babies...

Beau and I saw "Knocked Up" which is written/directed by the same guy who did "40 Year-Old Virgin."

It's AWESOMELY HYSTERICAL!! And like 40 Year-Old, it's got a lot of stuff in it that really hits home. The truth hurts, and tickles.

Go see it! Seriously.

You'll laugh.

A lot.

City Mouse, Country Mouse

I've lived in plenty of places and enjoyed most of them, but most of them have either been big cities or rapidly growing suburban sprawls. It wasn't until early 2006 that I experienced my first, true, "rural" environment (in a teeny tiny Missouri town). You learn pretty quickly that different things are valued in a rural town.

I have never really thought of Missoula as rural or small town. It seems almost like a suburb to me, though there's nothing to be a suburb of since Missoula, at around 65,000+ people, is one of the largest cities in the state of Montana (true). People often comment that Missoula is a big city where the people feel like/think they live in a small town. Living here now, I get that. I just read this from Outdoor Magazine: "If Missoula were a woman, she might show up for a first date in a battered pickup, grease on her overalls and fly rod in hand. She would look ravishing."

ANYWAY, last night while working at Shop-n-Smile, I saw a new product in my Domestics section that made me burst out laughing, shake my head, and say, "Ohhh this is so Montana."

In one of our many bedsheets aisles is one filled with typical kid's sheets, blankets and pillowcases: Disney's Princesses, SpongeBob, Batman, Superman, etc. It reminded me of the Star Wars sheets we had when I was a youngster.

So last night, I'm tending the aisle, straightening out pillows, lining up sheets, when I notice a new spot of kid's sheets.....wait for it.....

JOHN DEERE!

Wooooo hoooo! Sheets, fuzzy blankets, and your own embroidered pillow with "John Deere" emblazoned across the front and a picture of their trademark giant green tractor. I don't know, maybe it's just me, but I find that hysterical and awesome and just soooooo country! I can't imagine that in any of the other places I've lived: NYC, Arizona, hell, even WISCONSIN which worships the holy farmer, (well, I am referring to Madison and Milwaukee now), would carry a product like that. Rural Missouri, sure.

I thought it was strange and amusing when months ago in the Housewares section I saw both place mats and coasters with John Deere on them, but the kid's bedding is just simply the best.

"Here Timmy, look what Mommy bought you. Your very own John Deere bedsheets!"

Feel the love.
-------------------------------

And check out this John Deere crib! YES!
Laz, Jillian, Cabol, be a good mother and show your babies you REALLY love them. I mean, come on!

Always Crashing in the Same Car

Well, I have more crappy bad luck news to report, but actually, as much as it sucks, I'm okay with it. I guess it could always be worse, and it all turned out fine in the end. It felt nice to take something in stride for once, well, for the MOST part. There's just been a lot of shit to deal with lately, and like the saying goes, "When it rains, it pours." And yesterday, that was both literally and figuratively the case for me.

I talked before about the "nickel-and-dime me to death" antics of my old Honda Civic, and how recently the speedometer and dashboard had taken on a life of its own. I still haven't taken it in, since you don't really need much of a speedometer in Missoula (I rarely go above 3rd gear driving around from home to work to work) and now the headlights work. Of course, it's still in the back of my mind that "this needs to be fixed(!)," but with some other more pressing bills, it's gone down a few notches on the "Must Pay" list.

Yesterday, after leaving the university job, and during a fairly steady rain that had been going on all day, I was making my way through rush hour traffic to Shop-n-Smile. I had just turned onto one of the more busy roads when the radio started to stutter, dropping out sound every other syllable. I switched around to see if it was just that particular radio station. Nope.

Then, I noticed the dashboard was pulsating a little more emphatically than usual. Nervous, I pressed the electric button for the passenger window and watched as the window very.....slowly.....inched....downward. Sensing something was wrong, I quickly hit the button to "up" and watched the window painfully creak upwards until the window thankfully sealed. Uh oh, that's not good. Just seconds later, the entire dashboard went dark and the car stalled.

Just fucking great!

I tried to restart the car, but it was completely, 100%, out of commission. Behind me was the long line of restless rush hour maniacs. In a panic, I put the car in neutral, leaped out of the car, and began to push it to the side of the road. A nice man in an enormous pick-up behind me jumped out and helped me. Thankfully, the little car was pretty easy to push.

So there I was, on the side of a busy street, cars racing past me, rain pouring down (and my own window, rigidly stuck open an inch, was letting in water), and I'm going to be late to work. Plus, it was pretty damn chilly. I called Shop-n-Smile and told them my predicament and told them I'd get back to them. Then I called Beau to come and save my unlucky ass. Nothing. I called him like 3 times in quick succession so he would know it wasn't a social call. Still nothing.

Then I suddenly remembered I had emergency roadside through my Verizon Wireless phone! *CHEER* The world is bright and beautiful! There is hope!

When I had first purchased our Verizon phones from the University of Montana, the roadside service had been offered to me. I initially declined because just a few days later I was going to get car insurance, and I always get emergency roadside (I'm one of those people who seem to lock their keys in their car at least once a year). But then, the saleswoman at the Verizon counter told me how cheap it was -- about $3+ a month, (it WAS cheaper than my auto insurance company), -- and how it was connected to your phone, not the car, so that no matter WHOSE car you were in, you were covered. This sounded great! She then went on to tell me anecdotes on how her own boyfriend, with her phone in hand, had used it himself, twice in one month and how grateful she had been to have it. So, a few days later, I went in on my break, and as she tapped away with her long, manicured fingernails (how DO women type with those things??), she set it up.

"Is there anything else I need to do?" I asked.

"Nope, you're good to go!"

"Great," I said, and after asking her how to access the service if needed, I left the store.

Well, now sitting in the car, I couldn't for the life of me remember that access number, so after spending quite a bit of time punching through the lengthy menu on the phone trying to figure out how to contact Verizon (I finally just called information and got their customer service number), I got the number: #ROAD. Pretty straight forward.

After impatiently listening through their lengthy "options," I keyed in all the information asked, only to be told by the recording, "Our records indicate that you do NOT have this service."

HUH!?!?!

And after finally getting a human being on the line, was told, that in fact, I did NOT have the service, that there was no record of it, and they had viewed all activity on my phone, and there was nothing. I could sign up for it NOW, but it wouldn't go into effect for TWO days.

Oh. My. God.

The woman at Customer Service seemed sincerely sorry for what was going on, and I recognized it was not her fault (I hate people who yell at the waitress because they don't like how their food is cooked). I was still pretty pissed off. At first, they could not track down the # to the Verizon store at the UM campus. It was like it didn't exist. I happened to know they close at around 4:30pm anyway and wouldn't be there. Still, the woman wanted to try, and after calling another Verizon store in town, got the number, called it, and said, "Oh. well the number to the store appears to be the woman's cellphone number. I got her voicemail. Would you like it?"

Oh, yes I would.

So, after hanging up with her, I called up the woman who had "sold" me the service. I got her voicemail too and left my message. I was pretty proud of myself at its firmness and general pissed-off-ness since I tend to totally wimp out when confronting any kind of customer service/billing situation, even if completely justified. Plus, who wants to be a total asswipe anyhow? But I guess shivering in a cold car for a couple hours kind of releases some inhibitions, and I let her know just how disappointed I was. I still haven't received a call back.

So, finally, I called up Wally World, told them it was emergency and to get my husband on the phone pronto. It still took them about 15 minutes to locate him -- exactly where I told them he was working - the CASH REGISTER - idiots. And, like a knight in shining armour, Beau arrives 15 minutes later, where he immediately positions our other car and pulls out the jumpers. At first, nothing happened. I happened to turn around and look behind and me...and ho-lee shit.

RIGHT there, just about 100 feet from where I am on the side of the road is "Red's 24 Hour Towing." Hahahaha. So, I went in to talk to them about options. They were two really nice men, and they gave me some advice. At that point, I turned and looked out the window and saw that Beau had magically gotten the car to start, hooray! The two nice men gave me the business card to that Missoula Auto Electric place that was recommended to me in the first place, and after reassuring me that the guy who ran it was a good guy and not expensive, I ran back into the rain. We drove our respective cars home, and Beau, unbelievably to me, went back to finish his shift at Wally World ("I think they'll understand if you don't return to cashier for a few hours").

And I am hoping, REALLY hoping, it's just the battery that needs replacing.

Oh well, it could always be worse, right? RIGHT!?!?

Random Photo of the Day - Scarlet Ibis

Scarlet Ibis
Bronx Zoo

Angie: With No Loving In Our Souls...

"Cause every woman's got another woman at her job that SHE. CAN'T. STAND."
-- Chris Rock

I don't know if it's true, but it's true for me, at least at Shop-n-Smile. And since I have nothing good to say about my life atm, why not vent about a co-worker whose face you'd like to flush down the toilet?

Let's call her, "Angie."

I first met Angie shortly after I started. I remember I was near the make-up, and looking down at something, when I heard a voice say to me, "Hi, I'm Angie! I'm the head of Health & Beauty."

At this I looked up, smiling, and hopefully, the dramatic gasp that echoed through my head didn't erupt from my mouth. I swear to god, for a split second, it was like I was looking into the face of "Sloth" from the movie, Goonies. That quick, initial glance displayed a large, round white face, paler than my own, with massive amounts of flaring, red acne, a smile full of over-crossing and turned-in teeth, and a sprout of harshly-dyed, white-blonde hair that looked like the top of a carrot. She looked to be a little bit older than I.

Maybe I wouldn't have been so struck by surprise if she had said she was the head of Hardware or something. I think it was because I looked up right at the point where she said, "Beauty" that got me.

Now, before I go any further, I know I'm being mean. And I know that sucks. And I know when you really dislike someone, being mean gets real easy, and sadly, sometimes even a little fun. I rarely poke fun at someone physically, since I've had my own insecurities (and problems with acne!). It was just such a shocking moment, it kind of burned itself into my brain and then getting to know Angie better didn't improve her looks for me. So, just a warning.

I think one of the reasons I really began to get aggravated with Angie was because she represents a certain type of person that I really can't stand. It's that person with the sing-songy, high-pitched voice who is constantly calling everyone "sweety" or "honey" and giving these over-the-top phrases, like, "Well, you bet! I would be oh so happy to show you where the light bulbs are, honey." I can take that kind of personality, in all its sticky sweetness, if I believe the person to be truly sincere -- there are Midwesterners and Southerners like that. But Angie is one of those who are all molasses one minute, and if you say the wrong word or do the wrong thing, fast as the crack of the whip, her mood and demeanor changes. Her face will cloud over, her words will get very slow and deliberate, and the tension in the room thickens to goop. And you stand there as if jolted by a stun gun, kind of wondering what the hell happened and what the hell you do now.

One of the first instances of this, was when we were doing "the walk." This is during the last hour of the night when, after we all finish our respective areas (straightening, putting things away, etc.), the manager will gather us all and walk us through the store, where as a group, we make final touches here and there. It's somewhat social and laid back, since most people there do a pretty decent job.

That night, we were walking by large cannisters of various kinds of nuts. Angie suddenly halted mid-step, stared at the peanuts open-mouthed, and exclaimed in a near-shout, "THOSE don't go THERE!" Apparently, the stocking team had put a bunch of peanuts in the spot reserved for cashews (the bastards!). Angie then leapt into a frenzy, where she started yanking the cannisters off the shelves and literally throwing them into the cart the manager was pushing. The manager, Joe, a good guy, but fairly laid back, just kind of stared. And the previously-mentioned apathetic teenager, Katie was also with us. Katie and Joe stared at each other, and when Angie's attack ended, he said, "Ummmmmm okay" and began to push the cart again.

This must have embarrassed and pissed off Angie, for immediately, she straightened her arms and clasped her hands tightly in front of her at pelvis-level, and with thinly-pressed lips, began a straight-legged, almost marching step, as she walked along with us. I just kept quiet the whole time. It was like watching a show.

At the end of the walk, when Joe offered to send a couple of us home early, Katie offered to give it to Angie. "Me? Why me? Oh no, don't worry about me!" Angie said in this melodramatic, condescending voice. "Why not, it's pretty obvious you're uber-pissed off right now," responded Katie. Angie gasped and said, "Me?? I'm not mad. Why do you think I'm mad? I'm not mad at all!" Katie, being who she was, shrugged and left. I pretty much did the same.

In following shifts, I noticed that Angie would page me (and others) over the loudspeaker. When I would call her, she'd announce to me that she was going on lunch, or break, or something. "Um, okay," I'd say. Then, several times during my shift, while folding towels or straightening some furniture, Angie would come slowly strolling by. "Are you okay, honey? Do you need any help? Can I do anything for you?" she'd coo.

"No, really, I'm good," I always say. Shop-n-Smile does not get very vigorous business, and I'm happy for the work I do have, otherwise I go absofuckinglutely nuts while working with nothing to do.

Now, Angie is not a manager, of any kind, and in these retail places, they tend to have six levels of managers going on. She's not on any level, except maybe the second circle of Hell. I started to resent her checking up on me. And so did everyone else.

Then, if you remember, I got pulled over by a cop on the way to Shop-n-Smile one night. This made me about 10 minutes late in the door. I always start my weekday shifts at 6pm since I don't get off from the university until 5pm. The new manager had scheduled me from 5-10pm, which was not a big deal, since all the other managers understood my schedule and I was told "Just come in when you always do, of course."

That night, Angie must have been trolling the schedules of employees, including me, because she then made it a point to call the manager (once again, that night it was Joe), to tell him, "J. was supposed to be in at 5. She's late!"

Bitch.

And WHAT is the deal with all this tattle-tail telling going on? Angie is the worst, but she is not the only one. I've mentioned this before, and Beau and I have discussed this, but only at Shop-n-Smile and Wally World have we experienced this constant, crybaby, run-to-the-manager crap, where ADULTS are doing the "Guess what she did!?" game in regards to their fellow employees. It's juvenile, and just fucking ridiculous.

Anyway, Joe did call me. "I was worried about you," he said, "I know we can always trust you to come in and be on time. And it was pouring, so I got nervous."

I'm sure it was not all concern on Angie's part.

Things like this keep happening. The stock people are all pissed off because she keeps trying to give them little assignments to do. Even the really (genuinely) sweet woman I often work nights with, Laura, will just go OFF at the mention of Angie's name, and began a tirade of hate. Every night that I work with her, I get home and exclaim to Beau, "Guess what happened with Angie THIS time!" At least she's good for a good story.

Yet, this angry buzz keeps growing, and nearly every shift someone mentions her in frustration. And as I see Angie trying desperately to make her way to manager, I'm alarmed. Seriously, she's enough to make me quit (not that it would take a LOT). Last night, I turned to Deb, another great manager, and asked, "Can't you guys DO something about her? It's getting out of hand." Then Deb told me that Angie's trying to get a managerial position in Great Falls, MT, at another Shop-n-Smile. I'm torn between LOVING the idea of her leaving and feeling like some sort of warning should be sent to the other store. Well, I'm sure the managers here will have something to say.

In the meantime, I look toward my shifts with her with a great deal of apprehension. I have no problem keeping my mouth shut for awhile, but there always comes a point with me when confrontation occurs. She must sense this, because she has backed up off me dramatically of late.

But if I hear, "Oh hunnnnneeeeee" one more time....