|
Wednesday, Jan. 16, 2002 / 7:32 p.m. ~On My Crush on Moby, a Good Day at Work, and My First Impression of Lulu~ Hey, I just changed the time/date format settings. I hope it's what I want. And it's a good thing I did it before I really got started writing because it would've wiped out what I was going to write. Good thing. Um, yeah, so, I know sometimes I don't care to write here, and other times I want to write and write and write, and sometimes I don't want anyone here to read what I write, and sometimes I want everyone, total strangers from across the globe, to read what I write. Hmmm..... I've just been reading Moby's online journal and I'm reminded of how terribly attracted I am to his personality. TERRIBLY attracted. Like, Ugh!, I want to sit with him NOW and have a conversation that lasts the entire night and into the morning. And I want to have sex with him, and watch TV with him, and cruise the "interweb" as he calls it, jokingly, of course. I mean, he calls it the "interweb" jokingly. He wrote a journal entry about it, about calling email "e-letters", etc. He is funny, he is articulate, he is sensitive, he is sardonic, witty, intelligent, wise, knowledgeable, caring, shy, crazy, musical (duh!), etc. I'm sure other people have fallen in love with someone via their words. I know this happens. It happened to me the first time I sat here in front of this very computer, up all night, reading, reading Moby's journal online, on the "interweb". *Sigh* Okay, what else? Um, yeah, I think I finally found a color for my links that looks good on this monitor, white. It may be too much on other monitors, but here it makes sense. Have I mentioned that I fucked up my monitor that night I was switching out the memory modules? Well, I did. I set the monitor on a little "TV tray table", a little wooden table that's next to the computer table, anyway, to get it out of the way, right? Then, I took the case off the computer, did what I did, etc., but the monitor was sitting right next to the open computer, and when I switched it on, to make sure the thing was working properly, well, the right side of the screen faded out, like I burned it or something. The electric vibes, or rays, or signals, or whatever, from the exposed motherboard right next to the monitor had an effect on the monitor. Now, it's not as bad, but still, it looks bleached on the right side. Just a bit. Fuck. Oh, I've got to write about work, a little bit, not too much. Things were EXCELLENT today. They were quiet. Shhhhh.....quiet! Please, quiet! Yeah, I read almost an entire Entertainment Weekly! At this rate I can catch up in no time, start a real book soon too! Maybe Anthony Bourdain's A Cook's Tour! Or anything really. Anything. The possibilities are endless. Reading, quiet. Nice. Why is it so quiet? People must know Lulu is a snitch, a narc, a lying, two-faced, manipulative bitch, or else she just didn't feel well, feel like talking, but she was quiet, didn't talk to anyone almost the whole day, and neither did they talk to her. Kukla read. Kathy read. Penelope read. Laverne talked to Rasta on the phone, or else she was reading too. Listerine was reading her religious doctrines, or dogma, or whatever. The temps were.....hellufino. There are 14 of us now. FOURTEEN!!!! Phone calls cycle amongst FOURTEEN of us now. We were 8, or 9 on a good day. Now, it's cake. It's a fresh layer of ice, and I skated on it all day, no obstacles in the way. I passed out documents to process, amongst 14 people. I laid out 14 piles. One for you, one for you, one for you, I passed them out, set them on desks, in cubes. One for you, one for you, one for me. Process it, copy it, file it, FAX it, whatever, pick up mag, read. Answer phone, update address, answer question, polite, polite, calls being monitored now, it's new, they're figuring out what to audit, they're listening, I'm saying my name now, nicey, nicey, finish up, read my mag. Sit, read, stretch, answer phone. Read, read some more, drink some water, read some more, take a call. Stretch....ahhhhhhh.......Sabrina asks question, go over to help her, walk back, a jaunty saunter of a walk, la dee da, life is good, we're all reading, we're all quiet, Lulu is quiet, that's the ticket. Lulu. She's been silenced. And all is good. For today. Don't expect this to keep up. Oh no. I don't. But today? Yeah, it was good. D even gave reports of phone calls to offenders. I didn't get one, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah! Yeah, people who've made calls during peak times, between 12:00 and 2:00, and how long they were on those calls. Finallyfuckingly, she is getting with the program, she is being a supervisor, she may hate me for pointing it all out to her, for calling her out, for telling her how it should be, but she is finally doing something. She is issuing warnings about personal phone calls, to PEOPLE OTHER THAN ME! And it's about fucking time. That's all I've got to say. Yeah, it was a good day. Rasta doesn't come to me for his morning hug anymore, so I've never had to have that awkward moment in which I refuse. That's good. Penelope still does it, says, "Aw, Bless you _____" when she hugs me, and I let her, and I almost say, "Bless you too, Penelope", but I catch myself. Sometimes I think she does it for appearances, that she doesn't give a fuck for me the whole rest of the day, any day, just has to do that hug thing to make herself look good. That's in my paranoid moments. Otherwise, I think she is the only true and real person there. I'm still not sure. I have to add here, though, speaking of personal impressions of people, I was thinking yesterday of my first impression of Lulu and how funny it was, and accurate. She came on like gangbusters on her first day, and all the subsequent days. She assimilated far too rapidly, it was unnatural. She was too friendly, jumped in too deep, too fast. It was weird. I wasn't sure about her, didn't trust her. I told A., remember A.?, that I thought she, Lulu, was a man in drag, or that she was maybe a transgender person. She'd had a sex change. Her shoulders are broad and thick, her neck thick, her waist and hips the same width, her ass flat as a board, she walks like a truck driver, her facial hair is clipped and coarse, as if she's been shaving for years. I honestly thought she was a transsexual. A. had laughed when I told her. And agreed with me. And then said she wished I hadn't said anything because it was all she could think about when she looked at Lulu. I tend to ignore first impressions sometimes, especially if I'm placed in close proximity with the person. I try to look on the bright side, think maybe I'm wrong, try to get along, to make the best of a bad situation, I forget, I trust, I am naive, but I should trust my gut. It's never wrong. Never. Really. No shit. I'm not saying I've found out Lulu was once a man, but I'm saying I initially didn't trust her, didn't feel good about her, thought she was gossipy and two-faced, a liar, and I was dead on. So, I hope tomorrow is like today. Calls light, cycling through 14 phones, documents separated into 14 piles, plenty of time to read. Catch up on EW, read the free weekly, sit, stretch, relax. I deserve it. Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |