Another Saturday Night

And, I ain't got nobody. I got some money, 'cuz I just got paid.
Now I wish I had someone to talk to
I'm in an awful way

Well, not awful, but get this: I just spent 15 minutes blow-drying my cat. I have said it before, and I'll say it again -- I AM the woman I used to make fun of. Knitting and sewing all the time, and now spending a Saturday night blow-drying my cat.

In truth, it was not my plan to blow-dry my cat, but here's what happened:

1) I bought her a bunch of toys, because she's only 6 months old and still likes to play with things. I was trying to get her NOT to play with my dog's tail, because he don't like it.

2) She refused the toys, but loved a ball of aluminum foil.

3) I balled up mucho foilo and let her have at it.

4) She took a liking to a particular ball, and batted it around the living room, and then down the hall towards the bathroom.

5) I have been SUPER cleaning the house today and went into the bathroom put stuff that belonged there (nail file, nail polish, lotion) back in the bathroom from the coffee table.

6) While in the bathroom, I see Izzy swat the foil onto the back of the toilet seat.

7) I assumed she would say to herself, "Oh, well, I'll go get another foil ball"

8) I was wrong

9) Izzy jumped up on the toilet seat

10) Izzy fell in

So, you can see it's not my fault that I'm doing a loser activity on Saturday night. That's how I see it, at least. I'm pretty sure I could be out, shaking my grove thing, and meeting my true love tonight. No matter that I've not been asked. I'm sure there are 3 or 4 men who see me every day in my finery on the bus to work who pine away for me in stoic silence, afraid to make their move because I'm just that great. Right? Right? Ugh. Whatever. I gotta' go, because to make my Saturday night complete, I'm going to the 24-hour laundromat, so I have something to wear tomorrow ... when I walk my dog. Gak.

Some Other Crap for You

So, my last post was all ABW (angry black woman). This is a salve for your wounded heart. I missed poetry Monday, because I was all crazy about going back to work. So, here's some happy stuff to make up for your having to read my angry work crap:

POETRY MONDAY SUBMISSION (LATE)

Monday came, and I was still stuffed
From dinner with Ed, Mark and Charlie-- enough
The turkey, the stuffing, the carrot souffle?
And, on top the company, delicious crudite?
The cheese, the olives, the hummus, my Lord
I'm not embarrassed to say that yes, I gorged
And who could blame me, I ask, my friend
Since, as we all know, the gays rule, in the end
They cook better than you or I coud hope
And, the dishes they serve on are often bespoke
I ate, I supped, I laughed and conversed
And, I'll admit, alone, Thanksgiving would have been worse
I suppose, my disdain for the whole human race
Is, in the end, woefully misplaced
For, this year, I spent my Thanksgiving with friends
Better than I hoped ... well, perfect in the end
My stomach's not full anymore, one week past
But I'm still full with the memory of that awesome repast


P.S.: Three afghans done. The green one I posted earlier, a blue striped one made from left over scraps, and a super red/organge/cream one knitted in large blocks. (Pictures tomorrow, if I can secret away the office digital camera.) And, even better, 5 quilts done but needing finishing -- two for babies (they just keep coming), and three for friends/family. Lastly, the Anthony pillows are 5 minutes from finished. I was going to do them tonight, but did this instead. I'll finish them tomorrow, photograph them and post them.

Thankstaking! Yum!

I didn't give much thanks this year, I just took and took and took. Bad, Jen. So, my friend Ed invited me for dinner, and I went, instead of doing my laundry as planned ... on Thanksgiving ... alone ... sad. Okay, that's not really true, I just look for sympathy wherever I can get it. I was actually looking forward to doing laundry on Thanksgiving, because, for once, I'd have access to washers AND dryers at the ghetto laundromat in my neighborhood. No matter, dirty clothes never hurt nobody, so I wear them proudly. Dinner at the home of Ed/Mark? Yumalicious. My dad, who is really funny and way ahead of his time, said, "Oh, the gays can reallly throw down in the kitchen. You shoudl go. It'll probably be pretty, too." I love that man. And, he was right. It was FABULOUS. And, I met Charlie, who might be my new friend (I hope), and on the way home in the cab, it started snowing, which is awesome.

Then, a bunch of non-important crap happened, and then, it was MONDAY. Urgh, berf, blech. I was thinking that I hated my job (which I would be justified in doing, just so you know), but I'm thinking more and more that I just hate working for other people. I mean, they just suck. Ass. Hard. I had been ruminating (double word score) on my working relationships before the holiday -- the truth is some bad shit did happen, and some of it was my fault, but I owned up to it and apologized to the folks whom I sucked into my crazy. It happens. But, here's what I also came up with: the bosses of me? They're f-ing crazy, too! It's trickle down insanity.

My interim boss asked me to do something menial and administrative (but within my all-encompassing job description) the DAY BEFORE THE HUGEST MEETING EVER BETWEEN THE CLIENT AND ALL THE MARKETING TEAM. So, I said to her, "Moseann (not her real name ... but, close) I don't think it makes sense for me to spend my time doing this when no one will be available to review it until after Thanksgiving (because everyone who is the "boss of me" is on vacation for the whole week <-- I didn't say that, though). Plus, we have that big meeting tomorrow, and I think there are probably things I need to do to make sure the logistics for that are okay." She sez: "I really think it needs to be done." Then, I will admit that I did some passive aggressive crap and opened my mouth as if to object and instead, OBVIOUSLY, said, "Okay." Two minutes later, she calls me into her office to say that she doesn't want me to feel abused or used nad that maybe the smallish task she asked of me could wait until after the holiday.

Now, here's the thing. I had, the previous week, worked 68 hours. How the fuck is that even possible? But, I didn't walk around the office and bitch about it. I was, for sure, not the usual happy black woman, but that was because I was fucking tired. The thing that's wrong with this is that she just took away my ability to object to BAD BUSINESS DECISIONS. Now, if I say "no", it's because I'm sad or feeling put upon, and not because there might be a business reaston to do so. I could just kick her in the head. My next post might be from the Westchester County Women's Facility. I hope they have internet access.