Kentucky Fried NiiceLaady

Damn, this week has been a bitch! I didn't leave work until 8 p.m. and stuff still isn't done. I had no brain cells left. Hello weekend OT!

Chalk it up to losing half of Monday (move-related business) and most of Wednesday (department "retreat"). This is my brain. This is my brain on moving, work and insufficient sleep.

Good news is: I don't have to work my second job tomorrow! A most pleasant surprise. I could use the bucks but have OT coming from job 1.

Happy Big Six-Five to the amazing JB. Love ya!

Moved (well, almost)

I still have a few things to transfer from the old place; I ran out of daylight. The important thing is I got the cats over here. I was afraid I'd have to break out the Havaheart trap for Ed and Rozita -- who were both very hidey and skittish about the whole idea -- but they made it here without that, and it's all good. Rozita protested the most violently about going in the carrier, but Ed was the big sulky-pants. I had to take the top off and talk nice to him before he got out.

And of course all three of them are skulking around and being suspicious because it's a brand new place. It's home, kids, and it's bigger and cleaner than the old one, so enjoy!

This living room is too bare. Anyone got a couch they're not using?

I need to take some action

Listening to yesterday's podcast this morning, I found myself feeling far too much glee at hearing TJ dissing Marcia, and far too much distress at hearing them make up in the next hour.

I continue to ask myself: Why? I DON'T WANT the bastard. She can have him. But a big part of me wants to see the relationship crash and burn, wants to see her passive-aggressive little heart get shattered once again. I don't like this feeling, nor do I understand it. She is my sister. We both got our hearts broken by TJ once upon a time. I don't want to wish her ill. So why do I?

I know I need to move on, but I can't seem to. I think what I need to do is take some concrete action, something more than trying to tell myself to move on. Because that isn't working.

Moving out of this place will help a lot. It was while living here I lost many good friends: Sam, Linda, Shaka, Mona, Pumpernickel. It was here I lost my grip on reality. It is time to start over.

I'm thinking a housewarming of sorts once I get settled in the new place. Perhaps with a little "one-woman show" in which I sing a song or two, recite some words, receive some hugs and finally purge what's left of this unhealthy fixation from my soul.

I dearly hope I can persuade my new friends to attend: June C., RF, Digi, and Mrs. Pi, the ones who truly understand. And of course, the old friends who stayed with me through the worst of it.

Meanwhile, I have found some new podcasts to listen to at work. I can still handle TJ in small, relatively Marcia-free doses; today's show cracked me up like old times. But it's nice to have alternatives.

Tentatively thinking Nov. 19 for the aforementioned housewarming/soul-purging. Who's there?

I hate staying out late on "school nights," but ...

... tonight was worth it! Pokingbrook Morris banquet moved to Sunday from its usual Saturday because of conflicts with other stuff going on in the music/dance community, including the kickass Johnson Girls concert WB and I attended last night.

Highlights: singing "Happy Birthday" to CB's voice mail. She's 21 -- yaay! Squire Emeritus' "award" to WB: underwear and socks! (Backstory: We shared a motel room last spring with The Squire and SE, who inadvertently got dressed in WB's underwear, socks and T-shirt, while WB was in the shower, thinking they were his own.) Young Mr. B. singing the Lord Nelson song. JW's tribute to ForeLady.

Even the food prep was fun, which it isn't always (nothing personal, JB; it's the nature of the beast. It's work!). Even WB had fun! And there was a designated cleanup committee so I didn't have to stay late. If not, I'd probably still be there.

Out of ketosis, though, even though I was careful. No pasta, no crackers, no candy, no cheesecake. Maybe it was the apples in the pumpkin soup. Ah well, tomorrow is another day.

Nice to meet you; I'm chopped liver.

This is one of those can't-get-my-mind-around-it situations.

I've been working for this company for a year. It's the same place I worked for six years before leaving to be a teacher. They were thrilled to get me back, because, well, I rock. (Hey, false modesty is overrated.)

But here's the deal. I don't technically work for The Company; I'm employed by a temp agency. That happened to be where the available funds were at the time I was rehired -- in the temp budget.

BossLady has since been cleared to add a position to The Company payroll in her department. Specifically, my position. And I wouldn't really have a problem with the internal job posting if it were just to satisfy a bunch of EOE requirements -- you know, gotta prove we're making the job available to minorities and all that.

But what really fries my ass is that this isn't the reason. The reason is that they must consider qualified applicants from WITHIN the company before considering an outsider. The outsider being ... me.

Excuse me? I've been doing this job for a YEAR. I did it for SIX YEARS previously. And a bunch of people who don't know the ins and outs of the job one-millionth as well as I do are ahead of me in line because of who signs my paychecks? What is wrong with this picture?

I'm not worried that one of these "internal" applicants will beat me out for the position; I am obviously the most qualified based on the fact that I don't have "related" experience; I have THE experience. And BossLady has no interest in hiring anyone but me.

Add to this the fact that a co-worker, for whom I have nothing but admiration and respect, is annoyed at the fact that some of us have answered queries about "the opening" to the effect that it's going to me. Because she is married to one of those "qualified internal applicants" and thinks he should have a fair shot at the position. I like her, and I like him, but I'd also like to see him try doing this job for a week and doing it better than me. Of course he could do it with training, but hello? I'm already trained! I'm already doing it! Besides, I can tell her from bitter experience that working too close to a loved one is a recipe for disaster.

But I will be a good girl and answer any future queries about the position with, "Ask BossLady."

Hell, if it weren't for the lack of bennies -- which I sorely felt last week when I had to shell out $90 for a doctor visit and $88 for a prescription (that is not a typo), I'd be perfectly content to stay with the temp agency. They pay weekly!

Office politics suck. End of rant.

Not a bad day after all

... despite hassles at work and a fire alarm/building evacuation that went on far too long.

I wanted to blow off morris dance practice again but I'm so glad I went. I can now dance Upton-on-Severn -- or as we affectionately call it, Upchuck-on-Several. That won't mean a thing to you non-morris dancers, but suffice to say that it's a dance I first tried to learn six years ago and failed, and hadn't had a decent opportunity to learn it since then, until tonight. ForeDude is an excellent teacher!

Since I posted last there has been: an excellent concert with Tom Lewis, a fun evening with Mrs. Pi at the Black Cat, a return to doo-wop, a long-overdue doctor visit for a minor but annoying issue -- and finally got a referral to Core Physical Therapy for another MBAI, which I hope to start once I move and the budget loosens up.

Happy Big Six-Oh to DC, my good friend, bandmate and soon-to-be-ex-landlord, who not only rocks, but folks, countries and swings! LuvU2bits, buddy!