fearlesstemp: (eggs basket oh)
Setting a good example is very important! Which is why it was so awesome this morning, when T., the guy my Dad hired to take over my responsibilities in the office so I could go down to half-time, walked over to my desk with a question, and found me:

(1) peeling off the top of a yogurt,

(2) with two romance novels on my desk,

(3) waiting for my internet connection to come live so I could attempt to check my e-mail on the slow-ass dialup my Dad still insists upon, and

(4) singing "Carry on my wayward soooo-oooon" under my breath.


I jumped out of my chair, stammering out, "You see, it was on the radio when I was driving in, and you know how songs produced by bands named after locations get in your head? Right?"

To which T. responded by giving me a blank stare and an eventual, "What?"

In my defense, the two books were not to be read, but to be packaged and mailed out to someone! And I had to eat yogurt because breakfast is the most important meal of the day (though not important enough to get me out of bed twenty minutes earlier so I could eat it at home).

Whatever! This week T. was an hour late because his battery died after leaving the hazards on his car all night, and last week my father had to sit at the office until almost 7PM because T. got to his front door before realizing he'd left his house/office keys in his desk at work. His spaciness fits in well with the office dynamic, though really we do need someone with a mind like a steel trap to watch over us all.

Sadly, no one has yet stepped up to the task. LJAGU's latest foray into spaciness happened last Friday, when he was in a minor car accident caused by "rain and leaves" (his explanation) or "jamming out to classic rock at insane volumes" (my suspicion). He ran into a curb and messed up a wheel and as a result, we are sharing a car! Sharing a car, sharing a job. Usually the car handoff isn't too complicated, but today I needed it while he was working so I could go to the dermatologist, and spent a good portion of today just carting his butt around. He owes me, man! Between this and filing his taxes, he owes me big! Assuming, of course, he doesn't get arrested for tax fraud due to me messing up his taxes, in which case I think we'll be just about even.

Speaking of the dermatologist! I totally should have gone into that line of work. My dermatologist spends approx. 12 minutes with me every time I go, and has a line of exam rooms in back full of patients - I have to figure he bills 5-6 patients and hour and must be making massive amounts of money. Those twelve minutes have cured my acne, though, which I hadn't thought possible a couple of months ago. I no longer look like a bumpy-faced mutant!

What I look like now is a spotted alien, due to the scarring. Dr. Speedy gave me these foil packets of bleach I'm supposed to use nightly on my skin - it's supposed to bleach out the redness gradually. For some reason, even though I bleach my mustache, this is kind of freaking me out. I keep having visions of the bleach, like, bleaching my skin copy-paper white, or burning through my skin while I'm sleeping and leaving gross gaping holes. I know this is crazy. I know it is!

Still, I'm waiting until tomorrow to get started on it. My special relationship with concealer can last one more day.

Aaaand, that's about it. The only other item of note is my obsession with Friday Night Lights, which is SO TOTALLY AWESOME, OMG. I suspect I may expand upon this in greater detail later. You are forewarned!


Jul. 15th, 2006 02:20 am
fearlesstemp: (elaine ugh)
Today eight people came in for a will consultation. Only one person called for an appointment, but she felt the need to bring her entourage of assorted relatives with her. They were so numerous that there weren't enough chairs in the waiting area, which led to a comical few minutes during which I ran to and fro with furniture from other parts of the office. There is no way to look graceful and professional while carrying a chair, there's just not. Once they were seated, I realized one of them had B.O., and I spent the next hour trying to do work while ignoring said stench and being stared at like an exhibit in a museum.

Speaking of! My father's office is on the first floor, and my part of the office is right by the entrance to the building, so whenever people take smoke breaks, they always stand right outside my window. I can hear the murmur of their conversation but not the words, and it's extremely irritating because part of me is always trying to figure out what they're saying (it's just instinct), and also, I feel like I'm on display at the zoo. I should put a title card right next to where they smoke.

Secretaria Bittercus:

This species is known for its excellent typing skills and ability to lie on command. In youth, members of the species begin the day with a sunny outlook and then undergo a daily transformation which leaves them with hunched shoulders, short tempers, and clenched teeth by nightfall. This progression becomes more rapid with age, until finally, a persistent disgruntled temperament is the norm, with occasional pleasant patches. Natural habitat: cubicles with fluorescent lighting.

Ah, I'm just bitter to be so close to people tasting freedom while I wither away, tethered to the dictation machine, with no nicotine addiction to justify regular breaks.

Okay, so some things need to happen tomorrow.

(1) R. NEEDS to cancel our tutoring session, because my current housesitting assignment is about an hour's drive from our tutoring meeting spot, and I really don't want to have to make that drive. I want to sleep and spend the late morning hours reading a romance novel! Is that so much to ask?

(2) I need to work on some additional cover letters, etc., because I feel that my father's office is destroying my spirit a little bit more every day.

(3) The cat needs to not wake me up at 6AM by pawing at my nose, as he did last weekend.

Randomly: Eating wise, I was so good for most of today. I had fruit for breakfast (mostly because I overslept and had to eat portable food), a salad and a handful of Chex Mix for lunch, but then I had to stay over an hour late at work, and found myself at the grocery store, RAVENOUS, getting supplies for the housesitting weekend. I was in such a foul mood from work that I cast aside all of my hard-fought healthy habits of the last few days, and bought brownie mix, Lucky Charms, eight pounds of shredded cheese for quesadillas, and other crap, which was exactly when I ran into one of the professors I housesit for regularly (but not this weekend). I know there's no reason to be embarrassed of my food - it's my life! I can eat what I want! - but when one is (hopefully) at the tail end of a period of expanding waistline brought on by stress, and has been attempting to do better only to suffer a sudden setback, it is frustrating to run into an acquaintance super-devoted to healthy just as one is squatting down to decide which brownie mix to buy. Grr argh frustration.

In other news: My skin has been so heinous lately that I am embarking on experimental treatment. I'm still on oral medication for it (am seeing Dr. on Wed. about this part of the routine), but I am casting aside ProActiv and beginning an Ivory Soap/Neutrogena Moisturizer regimen for the time being. Three days in and my skin feels noticeably better. More details as they develop.

I feel like this post is so vain and superficial. I'll go with it. To wrap it up: I am rapidly going gray (oh, the horror); I keep forgetting to touch up my toenail polish; I have been wearing glasses all the time because I know when I call to reorder contacts, they'll probably make me come in for an eye exam, but I really don't want to; and I have a mustache that resembles Seth Bullock's.

Today I actually went to the store in a gray sweatshirt, blue sweatpants, and black flats from my dressy work outfit of today. The Jess of the Past would have gasped in horror at this. I have also taken to going to work with wet hair, and putting on makeup in the bathroom mirror when I catch a quiet moment in the morning. I ALWAYS SAID I WOULD NEVER BE THIS PERSON. Are all of these symptoms of more generalized self-loathing? Am I just lazy? Why am I not in bed, since I have to get up tomorrow if R. doesn't cancel?

So many questions! So few answers!
fearlesstemp: (elaine ugh)
This week is going to be a serious test of the MyLastName family unit. My mother has jetted off to Cape Cod with her sisters, leaving the three of us behind, which normally wouldn't be a problem, but recently both my brother and I have started working full-time in my father's office. His secretary left a couple of months ago and he never got around to replacing her because his law clerk was doing such a good job, and then his law clerk quit with three days notice a couple of weeks ago and it's CHAOS! So we're there trying to fill in the gaps until he can find quality help.

It's all fine, but since we're all living at the same place, it basically means that the three of us are together 24/7. My mom has been bearing most of the conversational diversity burden, introducing news and topics from her corner of the world, but now she's gone. Gone!

I think dinner tonight is probably going to go something like this:

(Lengthy pause.)

Person 1: Oh, the funniest thing happened at work today -

Persons 2 & 3: I was there.

Person 1: Dammit.

(all three stare into space)

Also, you can't complain about your asshole boss and idiot coworkers over dinner.

I kid! I kid. Work isn't that bad, actually, even if my father is stressed out to the point that he communicates primarily by shouting at the top of his lungs, a la the Costanza parents. He doesn't yell at either Jimmy or me, but at the world in general, annoying clients in particular, and, yesterday, 411 (Telecomputer: City and state, please? Dad Unit: SYRACUSE! NEW YORK!).

Randomly: Did anyone else watch Broken Trail? No? No one else watched Lowell the Dull Witted Mechanic share significant glances with Sun Fu the would-be Chinese prostitute? spoilers, just in case )

I wish more people had watched the movie so I had someone to talk about it with, but I didn't like it enough to justify foisting it on others. Oh well.

I am so tired right now. And I still have to go make dinner (am way behind schedule). Ugh.
fearlesstemp: (summer of george!)
My father's legal secretary quit, which means that I get to go in and start working for my Dad after having one (1) blissful day of freedom post-year of teaching. Damn you, fate! Damn you, Tina, who left for greener pastures without giving appropriate notice!

Anyway. The icon I use for this entry gives a pretty good impression of how I spent my one (1) blissful day of freedom, and how I wish I could spend tomorrow, but cannot. Instead, I will be listening to tapes on dictaphone, and fielding calls from irate clients. Oh, joy.

Enough complaining!

Today I watched the second season of Deadwood some more, and while I continue to find it awesome, the dialogue kind of, well, befuddles me sometimes. The bad language I don't mind, though it can be troublesome since immediately after watching the show I find myself saying things like, "Pass me the fucking potato salad," and once last year, when I was indulging myself in the first season, I think I actually called someone a cocksucker.* No, what gets me is how the dialogue, which has been called Shakespearean, is often so convoluted and complicated that it's incomprehensible, even if one has a DVD with subtitle capabilities and a functional rewind button.

You know what they should have? Ooh! This is such a good idea, I seriously should e-mail HBO upon completing this entry. They should have subtitles in Standard English, just like they have subtitles in French, Spanish, etc. Then idiots like myself could actually understand what's going on.

(Also, I think one of the reasons the language gets called Shakespearean is because of the way the writers often swich up the structure of sentences, which is interesting and confusing, but actually reminds me more of Yoda than Shakespeare.)

What else is there to report? Very little! My younger cat jumped into the sliding glass door today - he usually lets us know he wants to come in my by leaping up and hanging from the screen, but someone had forgotten to pull the screen part of the door closed. So he jumped up and THUNKed against the door instead. He was totally fine (cats always land on their feet), and after coming in, we rewarded him with treats, and lots of cuddling, but MAN, was it funny. I'm laughing about it right now.

*Not to their face, of course; I was either retelling an irrtating incident or, more likely, yelling at another driver while on the highway. Still, it shocked me!


fearlesstemp: (Default)

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