Monday, November 30, 2009

And, finally

For the hat-trick posting victory ...

Why don't coffee shops/breakfast places ever put a veggie breakfast sandwich onto the menu? I understand (in theory) the need for the baconeggncheese and the sausageeggncheese, but HOW HARD is it to slice a tomato or put some peppers and onions into the mix? For crying out loud, if EggBeaters can do it, so can you!

Not For Nothing

I was leaving my cousin's funeral on Saturday - fun family Thanksgiving that was! - and approached a red light. There, in the crosswalk ... a couple of 'Mo's. Seriously, what is this about??????!!!!!!

My Own Neil Simon Play

So, anyone who reads this blog for any length of time knows that one of my all-time favorite movies is Neil Simon's The Goodbye Girl. And not that shitty remake - the original Marsha Mason/Richard Dreyfuss classic.

It never fails. At the end of the movie, when Marsha Mason declares, "Well, look at me, I'm all grown up. A man is walking out that door and for the first time I am not falling to pieces," I feel a surge of pride. And then when Elliot Garfield calls from their leaky phone booth and asks Paula, "Do me a favor, will you? Have my guitar restrung?" I cry like a child.

It's because, for the first time, Paula has her own sense of self. And it is that sense of self that allows her to experience a true love with Elliot. And whether or not he actually comes back, she'll be okay.

Or something.

Anyway, I know that real life is not a Neil Simon play. ("You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie.") But, I did have a brief Goddbye Girl moment.

You see, today, GoodBuddy officially hit the road. He's in NJ in some Bates Motel as we speak. And I didn't cry. Not once. Not at all. Yes, granted, I cried a boat load last week, but to my credit, I did have a bunch of massive traumatic events hit me at once. Despite that meltdown, I do feel like my time with GB, for better or worse, has helped me to understand myself at a deeper level. To know that I at times have conflicting needs and desires and that there are more facets to my identity - both light and dark - than I had previously been ready to acknowledge. And, so, I have been feeling a bit a if I've had my own awakening. Which makes this fact a bit more poignant...

He left seven Bud Lights in my fridge.

Long ago, I used to joke that I knew he was officially mad at me if he took all his beer in the morning, leaving none for the next time he came 'round. As a result, he would often leave one or two as a "starter kit" for the next visit.

I'm sure GB isn't the romantic I would love him to be. I'm quite certain he's never seen The Goodbye Girl. I'm also pretty sure that he left the beer more as an oversight than as a gesture.

Still ... you have to admit that the irony and the situation is a bit uncanny.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Follow the bouncing budget

To anyone who thinks that the current healthcare debate is actually about treatment and not about policies and processes and redtape and bureaucracy, I offer the following example from corporate America.

First off, I want to put this caveat out there -- I love the company I work for. By all evidence, it truly does care about its employees and the greater good. The CEO legitimately cares about the mission of the corporation - to spread learning and education around the world - and, while being a shrewd business woman is also a philanthropist -- and a truly decent human being -- at heart. But, still...

When the recession hit, we were informed of a "Non-Overnight Delivery" policy for any shipping. Anything we wanted to ship overnight had to be authorized at the VP or above level. If you know anything about me and my job, you realize that this has a HUGE impact on my life. Welcome to marketing lackey 101.

I have a vendor in England who kicks butt. Unfortunately, due to some mitigating circumstances, they have outstanding invoices over A YEAR old. Obviously I want to get them paid.

Of course, CBL has been travelling. So, I filled out the forms electronically, emailed them, CC'd CBL and asked for permission. I was told by the AP department - in no uncertain terms - that that was not good enough. So, to expedite the process, I walked the envelope down to the Post Office, overnighted the form, had CBL sign it and then overnight it back. I signed and then I walked again back down to the PO (all this to avoid filling out the Overnight Shipping Approval Form) and sent off the form to Accounts Payable.

So, to pay an invoice for 1200 GBP (Sterling) I just spent about $50 in shipping. Because electronic approval is not good enough. Because we're in a recession and need to closely monitor our expenditure.


Thursday, November 19, 2009

Unfortunate photos

Back in the day, I worked at a small daily in PA. To amuse ourselves during the high-stress days, we used to play a game we called "now, that's unfortunate." Being the "Features" section, we had access to all SORTS of photos - engagement, wedding, baby, golden anniversary, graduation and - my personal favorite - general interest.

Aside from the usual bad hairdos, closed eyes or smirkysmiles, there are lots of other fun things to look for. Things people don't realize when they're taking their own pictures - it's very easy to have a garden gnome look like he's peeking up your wedding gown when you're posing in a backyard. If Grandpa's hands aren't positioned correctly, yes, it can look like he's feeling Grandma up. And no one wants to think about that.

And, then, there's the picture that was posted to Twitter today by the founder of Anusara yoga. Now, I love and respect John Friend. And I know his intention in posing for and having this picture taken. I also know that he has a wonderful sense of humor. And so it is with respect and humility and a fair amount of levity that I re-post the below TwitPic. Now, that's unfortunate.

Monday, November 16, 2009

The Day That Was


Meant to leave work early to go to yoga.

Massive headache. Massive muscle aches. Skipped yoga.

Tried to 'pop into the Post Office" on my way to the train. Post Office had moved.

First day in new Post Office meant a line out the door of people trying to get their new boxes.

I missed my train.

Somewhere around here my chest started hurting. Maybe from the 30 pound laptop/backpack slung over my shoulder?

I stopped at WholePaycheck for a healthy dinner. Cashier (Devin) was too busy chatting w/ his friend to bag the food from the salad bar that actually constituted my dinner. There's $10 down the drain.

CBL calls me while I'm hoofing it to the train. "Can I call you back?" She gets annoyed. Then, when I do call her back, she spends 20 minutes of my trainride bitching about her boss. Inappropriate much?

The train I wound up catching had a transfer at Beverly Station. My connecting train was late.

On my way home, I called Yangs for some chow foon, the wheaty, thick warm pasta being the only thing I could contemplate soothing my nerves and my rough throat. (I'm worried I'm getting swine flu but I realize I'm being a hypochondriac and manifesting symptoms). They're out of chow foon.

BUT - I got home. In one piece. GB called to "tuck me in." And now, all I need is two kittens to jump up on the beddy and it will all be okay. Because tomorrow's anotherday.

Sunday, November 15, 2009


So, I feel I owe it to you, my readers, to explain a little bit of the BS I've been going through lately. Because, although I am quite sure some of it IS biological, some of it is circumstantial. And here's the rub.

GoodBuddy is leaving. Granted, it's not forever and it's not like it's (whatever the fuck it IS between us) is over. So, it's like a breakup but I don't get to go through the anger or even the real heartbreak.

I know that he is doing the absolutely right thing. And I wicked admire how he has pulled his shit together and gotten it right. In fact, I'm quite envious. And we all know how well I handle envy.

As the only person who truly knows the ENTIRE me. I know that he worries about me (and I quote) "being obsessed with him", but the obsession is really this: sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself. Because, as he said tonight, sometimes you get to a point where you look in a mirror and you wonder "who the hell is that person?" I am there right now. And I have been putting all the right pieces in place to figure out who I want to be and how to get there. (And, yes, GB, if you don't like my new haircut, FU. I tried something new and it will grow out.) But, in the meantime, not having someone there who knows me, respects me and adores my potential is going to be tough.

So, folks, here it is - the explanation. I am losing my best friend, my closest confidante, my lover and my "always will be there guy." And while I am putting in place the stepping stones for a wicked amazing life ahead, the path just ahead may just be a bit uphill.

I realize this post is a bit scattered, but that's how I've been feeling lately. Manic depressive much? Bi polar often? Who knows. I just know that I'm finally facing up to his leaving and it's leaving me not the better for the wear.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


When depressed, I cannot be trusted with Pop Tarts.

That is all.

I'm no Lance

I've got a pretty severe case of the Fuckitz right now, a result, I'm sure of far too many 70 hour work weeks. It's been tough for me to even get out of bed right now, much less showered and productive. My roommate must think I actually AM a vampire.

I admitted to YogaChick how down I was and she talked me through it, ending with "I still trust you with your shoelaces." When I asked her if she was certain of that she laughed and said, "Yes. While we were talking you were also scooping out the kitty litter. Someone who is actually suicidal would not clean up cat shit."

She has a point.

I remember reading It's Not About the Bike, the inspirational Lance Armstrong autobiography, a few years ago. At his sickest, Lance still rode 10 miles every day, convincing himself that if he could still ride he couldn't be dying.

Lance rode 10 miles a day. I scoop cat litter. Whatever it takes, I guess.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


Several weeks ago, my iPod was stolen. Annoying, but not a huge deal, as I am not a huge iPod user.

In an effort to save some cash, I replaced my old "regular" iPod w/ an iPod Shuffle. I copied over my top playlists and then supplemented with some select favorites.

I have now been using the Shuffle for a week.

I hate it.

I have no control over what I want to listen to. It shouts at me whatever it decides I want to hear. I realize that this is the point of the Shuffle. I still hate it.

Draw your own metaphorical meaning from this. I simply observe.

Monday, November 02, 2009

Going to attempt to be gentle with myself

I was supposed to have a brand new year, a brand new me, with the start of a Celtic new year, Samhain, November 1. Didn't happen. I worked until 6:45 tonight and barely made the 7:40 train to Beverly. And then had to drive 30 mins...

I, of course, have no one to blame but myself. No one is holding a gun to my head making me work 13 hours. No one is telling me that "sorry, I couldn't get to it" isn't a legitimate excuse when you're clearly working more than 10 hours a day. Still...

But tonight I called YogaChick, who gave me a bit of perspective:

"You ARE being really hard on yourself. Just take a step back and stop looking at what you haven't done and look at what you can do. So, your new year didn't happen Nov 1. Maybe it happens Nov 3. And people know how great you are. What you do this week, or next, won't really matter in the long run.

I know she's right. And so I shall try to begin this year's new year from here on in. A video I found on YouTube can only help.

I have a plot and some character ideas this year as it is, so the rest should be gravy. Plus, here's anticipating I actually succeed in doing something for me .