Friday, March 30, 2007

Silvia? Yes, Mickey...

Last night I was reminded that I previously agreed to go salsa dancing in the City to celebrate my friend's boyfriend's birthday. Tomorrow. It was his idea -- he's Mexican so latin dancing is in his blood (is that bad to say?). Problem is -- I don't really know how to salsa. I can partner dance, and I know the basic steps, but I'm starting to get a little worried. It's one thing to dance around the kitchen of my friend's house (that's right - I'm a kitchen dancer), it is quite another to do it out in public.

My only saving grace is that my friend (whose boyfriend chose this little adventure) knows even less about salsa than I do. She wouldn't even salsa in the kitchen so I was quite surprised she agreed to this outing. Especially since she is not generally one to do anything outside of her comfort zone. And can get a little cranky when she does. This could get ugly.

And of course I have nothing to wear. Last night, M. & S. decidedly agreed that strappy high heels and a swishy skirt are must haves (think Jennifer Aniston in the first salsa scene of Along Came Polly). Problem is I do not have a swishy skirt and the only strappy high heels I have are ridiculously painful -- they're more a wear-for-show-but-remove-before-dancing-shoe than an actual dancing shoe. And while I'll take my shoes off at a friend's wedding, I'm hardly about to go barefoot in a club in the city. That could be dangerous.

So to remedy the less than stellar situation I find myself in (going salsa dancing without appropriate attire when I don't even really know how to salsa), I'm going shopping after work for a swishy skirt and comfortable don't-want-to-kill-myself strappy high heels. And instead of doing actual work for the next hour or so, I'm going to take a
free online mini-salsa lesson.
And then I'm going to go home and paint (walls, not pictures). And pray.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

The Final Countdown

I need a vacation. Bad. And while I have a pretty big one planned to Jamaica in May, hubby & I decided we simply cannot wait that long. So today, despite the tenuous nature of my future employment (more on that later), we decided to shell out the bucks for a mini-trip to Florida starting on April 13. The costs are minimal -- all told, less than $500 for me & hubby together (OK - it is actually more than that but I'm not counting food or drinks cause I'd have to pay for that shit at home anyway -- we're not big eat at home people) -- and the benefits are major.

One -- Atavan ain't cheap so by de-stressing earlier than anticipated, I'm saving medicinal costs. Two -- tanning salons ain't cheap and since there was no way I was gonna go to Jamaica without some sort of base color, I'm saving those costs too. Three -- my boss thinks I'm going to interview out of state so he'll think I'm totally sought after and may actually give me the job I've asked for which would be just awesome, and will keep me from actually having to go interview other places. Thus, again, saving on medicinal costs.

Which brings me to the tenuous job situation -- which I've shared with very few folks cause I'd really prefer it not get out, but I figure, what the hell, most of the folks reading this don't know who the fuck I am anyway -- so here it goes...

It has come to the attention of the powers that be in my firm that I fucking hate my fucking job and therefore am nto really willing to work late or weekends or any of that crap. Actually, it came to their attention some time ago (well before I knew they knew) and they told me they knew a couple of months ago (to my complete and utter shock!).

Anyway -- needless to say, they are none to pleased with me and suggested that perhaps I would do better elsewhere. I wasn't exactly fired, more like lightly shoved towards the door. I, of course, will not go without a fight -- not for the job I have, obviously, but for the job I really want. Which is nothing like the job I have and which technically doesn't even exist at my firm, but should. Especially if they really want to compete with "BigLaw" like they say they do. The job is basically running the firm's pro bono (that's "free legal services" in english) program and all the big money maker firms have someone to do this for them. So I've suggested in a seriously formal written proposal that they create this new and fantastic job for me because doing so would be good for their bottom line. And for six weeks now they've contemplated.

Boss #1 says he loves the proposal and thinks I'd be great for the job (because he recognizes I'm totally brilliant and just bored) but he isn't sure the firm needs another "administrator." Boss #1 also said, though, that Boss #2 has the proposal now and is a big fan of having lots of administrators.

Allow me to translate:

Boss #1 is from the school of thought that the lawyers in the firm can do all the administrative bullshit on top of their actual legal jobs (because this supposedly saves the firm money and results in larger checks for the partners).

Boss #2 is from the firm school of thought that lawyers should do legal work and administrators should do administrative work (because this leaves lawyers free to bill more hours thereby increasing income and the size of the checks to the partners).

I'm on Boss #2's side, duh, but he hasn't said anything to me about my proposal yet. And I'm surely not going to force him to rush -- I am content for now to sort of float under the radar, keeping busy enough to not die of boredom (most days) but having enough time to work on my resume and apply elsewhere (just in case). Plus if they're gonna say no, I'd prefer they do that later than sooner because once they do, the pressure will be on to find something else. And that is scary. Because I've been looking. And the market is about as tight as ... well, its prolly better I don't go there. Besides, I'm trying to take like two vacations in the next 6 weeks, so duh -- I'm not exactly in the best position to be changing jobs.

In all seriousness though -- I really do want this new job. If When I get it, I will actually enjoy going to work each day. How many fucking people can say that?

For now, I'm taking the "no news is good news" approach, and, for luck's sake, have taped to the ceiling of my bedroom a sign that has my name followed by the title of the job I want. Someone who saw
The Secret told me about this technique, and even though I haven't seen The Secret and so am not in a place to judge its value, I figure it can't hurt. Plus, I have seen What the Bleep Do We Know? and want to believe in the power of positive thought -- so I'm thinking positive. But of course that little bitch Doubt is always hanging out in the back of the room trying to fuck shit up. So, to keep that bitch quiet, I'm going to Florida in April and Jamaica in May. How's that for positive-fucking-thinking?

So the countdown is on...
16 days until we leave for Florida
35 days until we leave for Jamaica
?? days until I start my new and fabulous dream job

As d-bud has said, put that in your positive pipe and smoke it.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Time on your hands...

I love reading. I love books. In fact, I probably have more books than I will ever be able to read in my lifetime. I amass them like old crazy ladies amass cats. In fact, I'm looking forward to going to this awesome sale next week to buy more. Books that is. Not cats. At $5 a bag -- books, people, books -- how can you possibly go wrong? Plus, one of my favorite sites is Bookcrossing. My "bookshelf" there has tons of my books registered and lists of books I'm reading, want to read, etc. Other folks do the same thing. What you will notice if you go there is I have read 5 books so far this year and am working on a sixth. I think that's pretty good -- one every two weeks. Besides, despite il mio amore dei libri (sorry but I gotta start practicing my Italian again), and despite my speedreading abilities (don't know how to translate speedreading), I only have so much time to spend actually reading. I do have a job after all.

Which brings me to my point. Sort of.

I was researching some other "bookcrossers" before adding them to one of my "bookrings" (definitions can be found on the bookcrossing site if you really care), and I saw that one of them claims to have read almost 19 books so far this year. That's more than one book a week. Even for a really fast reader, that seems like alot -- doncha think? All I could think was, does this girl have a job? a life? an inability to tell the truth? I don't know. I just thought it was weird. But this particular bookcrosser is from the Netherlands, so I thought maybe it's an international thing? So I browsed around a bit at the bookshelves of other US bookcrossers and found someone in NY who claims to have read 17 and someone in California who claims to have read 21! 21 fucking books in 81 days. That's about 1 book every 4 days. And I thought, Are you fucking serious? Who has that kind of time? Even if you didn't have to work, because you were retired or independently wealthy, or had a sugar-daddy, or whatever -- wouldn't there be other things you'd want to do besides reading books? Or is there enough time in the day to read 1 book every 4 days if you don't have to work?

I think I'd really like to know the answer to that last one. Because I know I'd want to do more than just read books if I didn't have to work. But I don't know what time feels like without a job.

I think someone should be my sugar-daddy so I can find the answer. You know, for scientific purposes. Although sugar-daddy may be the wrong word, because I don't want to have to give anything in return. I mean, I'll go to dinner or on vacation (with separate rooms of course), but I won't . . . you know. What I really need is someone to just give me a whole ton of money, no strings attached. Yes. That would be best. Any volunteers?

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

More Happy Thoughts . . .

For lack of some place better to save them, here are some of my previous "Happy Thoughts" :

I have been thinking that I would make a proposition to my Republican friends... that if they will stop telling lies about the Democrats, we will stop telling the truth about them.
[Adlai E. Stevenson, Jr.; speech during 1952 presidential campaign]

You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake. [Jeannette Rankin (1880-1973), US pacifist & politician]

It is a denial of justice not to stretch out a helping hand to the fallen; that is the common right of humanity . [Seneca (5 BCE - 65 CE), Roman dramtist, philosopher & politician]

Repetition does not transform a lie into a truth. [Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882 - 1945); radio address, October 26, 1939]

Friday, March 16, 2007

I think I may be sick . . .

Last night, Hubby & I caught the flick "300" - it was pretty good. My favorite part was (spoiler alert -- did my best to color match) when Leonides' wife, aka the Queen of Sparta, stabs and kills the corrupt councilman, whose name I can't remember, after he betrays her to the council even though he said he'd help her and even though she let him fuck her so he'd help her. I especially loved that she used his own words against him -- this won't be quick, you won't like this, etc. What a tough ass bitch -- it was awesome. Anyway, after the movie, we went to meet some friends of ours for what was supposed to be a couple of drinks. Next thing I knew it was 3AM and, well, I'd had a little more than a "couple" of drinks. I can't actually tell you how many, but there were shots involved, and that is never good, especially on a school night. Needless to say, when I got up this morning to go to work, I was feeling a little under the weather. But it wasn't too bad - at least it wasn't something a McDonald's coke couldn't fix (don't ask me why, but I believe McDonald's coke is the absolute best all around hangover cure ever -- not any coke will do either, it's gotta be McDonald's). Anyway - I'm sitting at my desk, drinking my coke, and starting to feel a little more human, tired as hell, but not sick anyway. And then I get an email from a friend with the following video:

(I tried like 300 times to embed the video, but Blogger sux ass and kept giving me a bogus error message, so you'll just have to go here to see it)

And now it's like I never even had the coke to begin with. Fuck. I don't think a coke is gonna do it this time. And I was so going to have steak tonight.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

A Sad State of Affairs...or, Where Have All the Hotties Gone?

Before anyone who read my last two posts (in which I rant about fucking misogynists) thinks I'm some sort of radical man-hating feminist, please allow me to tell you a story. . .

Thirteen days ago, I marked my thirtysomethingth birthday. To celebrate, Hubby took me to dinner at this amazing new Latin restaurant in town, where I had the best flan I think I have ever eaten. After we got home from dinner, he gave me my presents and a few other things a girl generally wants on her birthday (or any other day for that matter, but that's a whole other story).

Anyway -- since one night of fun is never enough and to get to my original point -- my girlfriends and I planned a little soiree to continue the celebrating a couple of night later. And since there is nothing like a little eye candy to get a party started . . . about 7 of my friends and I went out to a local club for some drinks, some dancing, and some old fashioned flirting (I may have been married for - like - ever, but I like to look as much as the next girl and I like to dance more than most, and a little harmless flirting never did anything but get me free drinks). We chose this particular club based on past experience - it usually has good music and an even better scene. While I could do without the bimbette bartenders dancing on the bars with their asses hanging out of their excuses for pants, the place is usually filled with a pretty mixed bunch of folks, including some who are obviously older than me (which, let's be honest, is why I like the joint -- who wants to be the old bitch in the club?). And, more importantly, always present have been massive quantities of well groomed, and equally well dressed male hotties who are generally decent dancers and not afraid to buy a girl a drink (and who are generally too young for me, even if I weren't married, but that's besides the point).

So there I was, dressed to impress and looking hot as shit if I do say so myself (I had just dropped another pants size so my ego was at its apex). I pay my cover charge, saunter over to what we like to call "the starter bar" and order a Stoli Vanilla and Diet Coke from the first bartender whose attention I can get, which is never easy cause they are ALL girls, who could give a fuck about what other girls might want to drink, yours truly included, even though it would be worth their while to pay fucking attention because I have a problem with over-tipping. But I digress...

The eight of us climb the 20 or so stairs to the main club area, flickers of expectation dancing in our eyes. Will it be as good as the last time? Better? Surely the birthday gods will shine on me. . .

We enter the main room...

And what to my wondering eyes did appear?

Fucking nothing.

Not a single piece of eye candy in the joint. Not one. You'd have thought ugly and out of shape was the new in thing to be. Hell -- the dude begging money in the parking lot looked better than most of the guys we saw in the horror show that was before our eyes.

But it was relatively early yet so we figured we'd do a birthday shot and keep our fingers crossed for the latecomers. But, two hours and three four five shots later, the view was no better than it had been before. In fact, I think it may have been worse. And that's saying quite a bit, given the advanced state of my inebriation.

It was a really depressing and sad state of affairs. And a waste of some really hot jeans. I might as well have been at a gay club. At least there I would have been guaranteed something good to look at. I hope. If the gays clubs ever become a haven for unattractive and out of shape guys, I will know a true crisis is upon us. For now, I can't help but think that either (1) all the hotties are serving in Iraq or Afghanistan (which is a crisis on a whole other level) or (2) all the hotties, who, let's face it, spend just as much time on their appearance as girls do these day, finally said the hell with metrosexuality and took the plunge into full on homosexuality. No? Then maybe you can tell me where have all the hotties gone. I'd love to know.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

The "V" Word

Not but three days ago, I ranted about the misogynism behind the word cunt.

Turns out I was right, as
this story proves. Long-story-short: three NYC high school girls suspended for saying the word vagina during a reading of The Vagina Monologues. If you aren't as amazed as me, you should have your head examined.

And the "we didn't suspend them for saying the word, only for disobeying the order not to say the word" line of bullshit from the school...the fucktards who said that prolly shoulda checked with their lawyer first. Because trying to prohibit the girls from using the word in the first place is even worse than punishing them after the fact. It's called "prior restraints" and even the Supremes on the right have a distaste for that shit.

Seriously -- I understand not saying "cunt," but now you can't even say "vagina?" In New York fucking City -- one of the "bluest" places on the planet? Are you fucking kidding me? Because "children" might hear the word? Really? Should girls be so ashamed of their bodies that they aren't even allowed to mention it in public? Using the "real" (i.e. technical/medical) word for it? How old is old enough, exactly, for a little girl to know that the thing between her legs is called a fucking VAGINA? Please, MR. Principal, and MR. School Board President, do tell, I for one would like to know...and you being men must surely know better than I. Dicks.

One last question - if three boys had used the word "penis" as part of a literary reading, would they have received the same punishment? Would they have been told the word was "inappropriate for children?" I somehow doubt it. You sexist motherfuckers.

Man - I am so fucking pissed about this. Can you tell? I hope those girls' parents sue. I would.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Another Day Wasted...

I started out the day with grand ideas of all the things I would accomplish. Nearly six hours later, and I've accomplished almost nothing. Part of this is my own fault -- I am easily distracted. But part of it is that I am so fucking bored I want to pull my hair out (which by the way I just colored for the first time in my life). Anyway -- since I have no work to do (and the reason for that is a whole other story) I spent the better part of the day hopping from one blog to another. I started with the blogs of people who commented on my last entry and worked my way on from there. Didn't really learn anything, but I did come across a few fun sites. And, since I have nothing better to do (actually, I have tons of better things to do but none I really want to do - like renewing my driver's license and tweaking a friend's resume who just didn't quite get my instructionson how to write a resume), I thought I'd share some of my findings with the few folks who ever visit. So, if you have some time to kill, may I suggest:

Things My Boyfriend Says -- collection of comments, etc. pretty much exactly what the title says it is. some are pretty funny, if I do say so myself. pure time waster site.
Campaign for Unshaved Snatch (CUSS) and Other Rants - had to see this. especially after my last post. gotta admit I didn't read much but how can you go wrong with snatch in the title?
Ladies, Goddesses and Bitches -- warning: adult themes. actually, fuck adult "themes" ... this is an adult only blog. well written erotica if you like that kind of thing.
God of Biscuits -- no real "topic" just postings by some random guy. But I like what he had to say about Ann the Cunt Coulter and the horror that was The Black Donnellys so I read some more of what he had to say and may visit again.
Pink is the new Blog -- gossip, gossip, gossip.

There were plenty of others, but I've got to meet a friend for post-work ocktails so off I go. Perhaps tomorrow they'll give me something worthwhile to do. Otherwise, I may have to actually bring a book to read.

Monday, March 05, 2007

More on the "C" Word

On his blog yesterday, D-Bud asked why the word CUNT is so much more offensive than bitch, or even slut. While most readers agreed the word was highly offensive (myself not included), no one bothered to answer the question of why, other than to say CUNT is offensive because it is used in a hateful manner. As if bitch or slut were words of praise and kindness (although I suppose in some cases . . .). But seriously, that CUNT is used in a hateful manner doesn't explain why the first of the following two statements is so much more offensive to people than the second:

Get your hands off my husband before I rip your eyes out you fucking cunt.

Get your hands off my husband before I rip your eyes out you fucking bitch.

The feeling and emotion behind the two statements is identical. The purpose? Identical. Yet people can stomach the second statement far better than the first. At least in America. Why? The real reason has nothing to do with the way in which the word is used -- after all, used the right way, any word can be offensive. If it were only about meaning, people would only be offended when the word was used in an offensive manner, but that simply is not the case -- people are offended by it even if no insult is intended, as in "the cunt splice is very strong." Even the word standing alone, CUNT, with no reference as to its meaning or purpose, CUNT, is offensive to many. CUNT. Thus, "the 'c' word."

The real reason the word is so offensive in America (and I am hardly the first to come up with this one) is because despite the supposed sexual revolution of the 60s & 70s, this country is still sexually repressed and overly puritanical. And despite the ongoing feminist movement, which admittedly (and thanks be to the goddess) has made remarkable strides, this country is still hopelessly misogynistic. For example, in several southern states, it's illegal to sell dildos but not Hustler magazine. For all our supposed equality and freedom, we continue to play into centuries of sexist propaganda, despite the fact that we should fucking know better already.

Put another way . . . CUNT is reviled, in a way that bitch is not, because CUNT, goddess forbid, refers to a woman's sexual organs. For centuries, the female genitalia has been seen as dirty and shameful. Until relatively recently in our common history, menstruating women were forced to remove themselves from society. (OK - menstruation isn't neat or pretty but it is fucking natural dammit and lest we forget, absolutely required if the human race is to continue). Women have been blamed for everything from original sin to the downfall of an American president. In this country alone, women have been treated as property, burned at the stake and denied rights which, fucking excuse me, are supposed to be "inalienable." This country's continued derision toward women, and their vaginas, is evident in the repulsion people feel upon even hearing the word CUNT.

What's worse is that, in my experience, more women are repulsed by the word then are men. This smacks of self-hatred and in my opinion, plays right into the hands of those who would prefer that women, and their CUNTS, remain in their "proper place."

But enough cunt-talk for one day. This cunt, for one, has shit to do.