As to why I don't cook: I'm working on the multi-day recipe for chicken & dumplings that once gave me salmonella, and had fish in the oven for tonight. My purple glass pan exploded in the oven, literally, shattered to pieces. My FFXI friends are calling it a critical synthing failure, but the fish was still good.

I've decided it will be easier to get rid of things on Freecycle one at a time, instead of dealing with the deluge of email that come in and trying to get people to show up. I finally gave my moving boxes away, the ones I've unpacked, so I can tell how much floor space I really have left in my room.

Tom is trying to give me an Invader Zim ring tone.

Infinite catly goodness, The Infinite Cat Project.

There's a new woman in the shipping department who looks like Karla, knows Karla, and has the same sour face. I think she hates me already.

Karla erupted again yesterday, badly enough that I decided I need to document this to my new boss. I don't know how proper communication techniques are supposed to work outside of carefully scripted workshops when the writers have obviously never experienced a difficult person in real life. Calmly asking numerous times to please, please tell me what I have done wrong so I will know what not to do again got me at best, "I'm tired of your fucking games." Also, the rest of the office hasn't caught on yet but she sits right next to me and I've been playing games the entire time I've been here. Funny how familiar that sounds... Wish I knew what she was talking about.

I wrote an email to my boss, which I planned to print out using my 'email privilege' and leave for her to read. I sent it to the general email address at the end of work last night. It didn't show up.

I had the general email address wrong. Luckily I got a bounce message when I got home. But now I have an email never read and the moment is passed.

A new way to persuade people to vote: Votergasm. Pledge to vote, then have sex with a voter. Withhold sex from non-voters. I hope there's an exception for non-voters who aren't able to vote though, especially being that election day and my Andrew night are both Tuesdays.

I did get a new watch over the weekend but now I'm wondering if I accidentally got a kids' watch. I can only fit into the first or second hole on the wristband, and usually I'm in the middle to end. I'm not tiny but I have decently small wrists.

There is a single fruit fly that I'm convinced follows me around just to torment me. There is always one single fruit fly flying around my table when I go to lunch, whether to Teriyaki or Taco Del Mar. There was one at sushi last night. The one finds its way to my desk at work occasionally, and I think there's been one in my apartment already.

Today I managed to knocked it out of the air—right into my tea.

Can I add this one to my resume too? Another unofficial job function of mine, due to my desk position, is to retrieve women from the women's bathroom-lounge, and to make sure it's clear when maintenance is called.

The old guy that used to sit at the bus stop but never take a bus is still there, now with a cane instead of a walker. I see him daily now that I'm living in Andrew's building. Today I was late and actually saw him get up, not to get on a bus, but to cross the street.

I helped Selina dye her hair burgundy for a work party/Halloween. I don't think there's anything so inherently female as dying/brushing/braiding each other's hair, though I'm not so sure where the latex gloves fit in!

We went downstairs to show it off but the boys were so involved in the new FFXI expansion (my copy was laying on my desk when I got home) that they barely looked up from their computers.

So I can't dye my hair my usual color for a few months now or we'll really match, but I was thinking I haven't had magenta in a long time...

I've been reading, albeit slowly, The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf. It's on my list of feminist books I feel I'm expected to have read, but at the risk of losing my feminist status, I don't care for the book. I'm pushing my way though (with a reread of Barbara Kingsolver's The Bean Trees lined up next) because I can't stand to leave a book half-read.

At the beginning it seemed like there's just only so much "awareness" someone can do without anything to do about it. We all know (I know) already about expectations and double standards, the billions women spend on makeup to look like they're not wearing makeup, women's magazine induced eating disorders, etc. But still it's human nature, possibly animal nature even, to want to surround ourselves with pretty things. One reason many people play female characters in games, if you're going to spend so much time looking at something, you want it to be attractive.

At the end I think she's suffering from the same problem as PETA—a good message pushed too far to the extreme undermines your cause.

How do you tell that new hair is actually growing back at the same rate that it's falling out. Isn't losing hair a sign of stress?

dilinger3773: somebody broke the internet
Styrdyst: i hate it when that happens

Paul isn't here anymore to see me eating a brownie bite off of my desk. He was telling me about an article that said it's safer to eat off of a toilet than an office desk, with the worst areas for germs being the keyboard and phone. Luckily I don't tend to eat off my keyboard or phone so I'm not concerned. In fact, until I hear of an outbreak of the Killer Desk Flu, it isn't anything more than numbers to scare people about their everday lives.

Andrew and I were in Safeway recently when I saw disinfectant wipes for the cart handles. In case you were wondering why a grocery store would need disinfectant wipes, there was a picture of a baby chewing on the cart handle to illustrate. Now babies have been chewing on cart handles, and anything else they can get their mouths around, as long as cart handles have been available for their chewing pleasure. If this were just a tool for overcautious parents it wouldn't be worth mentioning, but our current society's antibacterial good intentions are actually causing health issues in the long run.

Babies and children develop their immune systems by playing in the dirt, putting found objects in their mouths, and being mini germ factories while their bodies learn how to deal with the outside world. I hear parents even used to have chicken pox parties to spread it around while the kids were still young and get it out of the way. Now if we can't make it through the day without our hand sanitizer, we'll have bigger things to worry about than chicken pox when the Killer Desk Flu comes around.

I took my clothes right out of the clean laundry so the smell of dark Woolite has been strong all day.

I was up much too late again last night because Andrew and I took Murple, Final Fantasy alt character (level 5), to Windurst, the city across the world from where she started. It took longer than it could have because Murple is the character I insist on role playing (think Kiki from Sluggy Freelance) and we picked up a friend along the way who is more willing to cater to Murple's whims ("Kill me a Sappling!") than Andrew is.

Andrew came by to have lunch with me and I took him to one of my usual spots, a teriyaki restaurant on 4th Ave. One the way one of the women behind the counter noticed that I brought a "friend" and asked if he was my brother. "You look like brother and sister!" she insisted.

I found where all the bad romance novels around work are coming from. I was searching for paperwork under the Scary One's domain while she was out and saw her stash of books. "Taking Cover... in the circle of his arms."

I got to email a quote to a customer. This is going to be resume fodder when I apply for office jobs. Applying for office jobs means showing that you know just enough about computers to get by, but you really prefer spending your time filing and smiling.

I saw a customer, and I mean an overweight beyond middle-age guy in the cash counter, wearing a Sluggy Bun-bun shirt!

With sudden access to my email, Livejournal, message boards again, how much productive work am I actually going to get done (on my database, for example?) Well I lost the network key when I went home since it didn't save the settings, so until I track down Roland without letting on to Karla that I'm getting something special, it's back to the old way.

Somehow I know this must be Izzy's fault—I have Ace of Base stuck in my head.

dilinger7337: so your job could be obsoleted by a pda w/ a stylus and email capabilities?

I was describing my new job responsibility, just as absurd as my main job. (As a refresher, I take orders that the salespeople have written down by hand after looking up their part numbers in the computer, and type them back into the computer to be printed and sent off to the warehouse.) It's true, but in a company where salespeople don't even check their own email, I don't think I have to worry about job security.

The wireless is back! No longer open, but apparently I'm special enough to be given the network key. There isn't anything work-related I could possibly do with it, so somebody here must like me.

Caffeine isn't making my headache go away. Next try: brownies.

I didn't see Karla's car in the parking lot and got excited that I might actually get the day off from the psycho one. I forget she's having car issues and is taking the bus, until I saw her gray head over the cube walls...

I don't know when squishymoose.com expires but I think I'm going to let that one lapse until I'm ready to get back to that project. I don't think I'm in any danger of someone taking that domain, and if I am, hopefully they'll do better with it than I have.

The trouble I have with pulling off an online multiuser dream journal surreal weblog is that people have certain ways of describing dreams compared to real life. One is to point out every change:

"Suddenly there were two sinks even though I'm only supposed to have one."

"I was taking to this person but they were really this person."

Another is to list the sequence of events, striving for completeness over interest.

"And then this happened... and this this happened.. and then this..."

I ran across someone's online dream journal once where every single entry started with the words, 'I dreamed that...' Seems so redundant after the first one.

I went upstairs to copy the back of that pregnancy novel but someone was reading it!

Lou had heated up some chili which he left splattered all over the inside of the microwave. This is the man who calls his wife every day to put in his order for dinner. The thought of cleaning up after himself has probably never occured to him.

"So where were you when I was single?"
"Ten?"

And this is why my job just makes me want to cry... Karla's acting mad and stopped handing over my share of the work. I can't even comprehend what goes through her head, especially when (because?) every time in the past "I've got a project for you guys," or "Would you like to learn something new?" has meant Karla. The only reason I get to count pinks in the morning is because she got tired of the job.

I just got to use the line, 'have fun with your fluffing,' on a coworker.

I got my lesson on how to check email and turn on a Mac. More for the benefit of Tina (the new clerical manager) and Kermit (the company president) really, as they discuss what happens to email after you delete it.

Now Karla's acting strangely withdrawn. If it wasn't Friday I'd hope she's going to call in sick tomorrow. Instead I'm afraid she's upset that I've been given something to do that she can't claim half of.

My watch died on me a couple days ago so now I've become one of those people who always look at their cell phone when they want the time.

"Please come back to Working Assets Long Distance today, because we can't build a better world without you." I don't even have a phone line and they're trying this hard to get me back. I had no idea that I, out of all of their customers, was so important but they say it hasn't been the same since I left.

My laptop is a heater. I'm warming my feet on the power supply.

The deposit return from the old apartment came in the mail today. I'm totally shocked that we got anything back, let alone full. I think I actually owe Kris money for the deposit I never paid when I moved in. I was thinking if I got a deposit back I would try to get in contact with her, perhaps trying to work in a visit with the cats.

I saw a dog get hit by a car while walking home from work which left me somewhat shaken up.

A woman was yelling, "Stop that dog if you can!" and I turned around to see someone's small dog taking off down the sidewalk. I put myself in front of the dog but that just caused it to deflect off of me and run into the street though traffic. It made it to the other side but turned around an ran under the wheels of a car that came skidding to a stop on the wet street.

The dog went on yelping, holding a back leg up in bad way. A crowd of people was gathering, and someone (I assume co-owner) scooped the dog up into his arms. At least it's a good sign that the dog was okay enough to cry about it.

I'm finally going to get a new responsibility at work! Apparently the office is being rearranged and eventually assistants being hired to help out the salespeople. In the meantime they need someone to check and print out email for the salespeople, and then to respond. Again a job that shouldn't need to exist, but it seems after all the time on my laptop and the programming books on my desk, someone realized 'Hey, she might know something about computers!'

I'm going to get the password which I'm not supposed to give out because they don't want anyone to be able to get access to that evil Internet thing.

People have trouble understanding why I would want more work. "Wouldn't you rather just play games all day?" asked Ted. Well, without my net connection there's only so much Freecell I can handle. At this point I'm ecstatic just to touch an actual computer as part of my job.

Why it's best to stay on friendly terms with your coworkers: They can help you avert minor tragedies, like forgetting to put soy sauce on your take-out stir-fry.

People of my gender frighten me... pregnancy romance novels. One was left in the upstairs break room. I'll go back up with a pen and paper to copy down the description from the back of the book if I have time.

The same-first-letter intentional misspelling trick shall be outlawed from now on, with allowances for the Koffee King coffee maker, 'Carlos's Kids Kup' and the numerous variations on Kitty Kat currently in existence. It's no longer cute and unique. It's run its course. No more.

Without the wireless at work I had to install a local web server on my laptop to work on my PHP/MySQL learning project, the FFXI gardening database. That and, I'm embarrassed to admit, playing Freecell (mostly to clear my head while coding,) is how I spend my day around work.

Someday I dream this thing will even be finished. The script I'm working on makes my comment script look puny in comparison. I've never seen a reason to start small if I have no need of something small. I have a loose goal of having something ready for public testing by September 20th, the day the DSL is scheduled to be connected and I can get Boingy back up.

Selina: "When did you get so boring?" (When I said I had nothing to say [post].)

My biggest ongoing complaint has been calmer since Karla and I have an active agreement to split things more evenly, and it lowers the frustration level at work a fraction of a percent. Still, Psycho-girl threatens to come back. Karla's been in a slamming mood since she came back from lunch and I had visibly done a large amount of work while she was gone.

I still don't recommend spending the night in the ER. I've been dead tired since that night and I still slept much of the weekend.

Another round of stuff is going up on Freecycle tonight. Giving away all your possessions is the easiest way to unpack!

Another reason why my ER was a waste of time (and money)...

MITTLESCHMERTZ:
Your exam shows you have mittleschmertz, [a great word otherwise—I'll have to save it for future use] a term which means pain in the "middle" of your menstrual cycle due to ovulation. Ovulation is when blah blah blah...

Now you can barely go to the doctor for a headache as a woman without being asked about your period (and if there's a chance, any chance in the world, you might be pregnant) and so the hospital was more than aware of the timing of my menstrual cycle. If I was ovulating, why did I have to go through that horrible catheter experience?

With all the words they have for when something goes wrong, it makes me wonder why doctors don't take women's body issues more seriously.

I found out what it really means to spend the night in the ER, and that the longer you spend in an open-backed gown watching CNN on a TV with flaky sound, the lower priority you are for the night. Halfway through the night I forgot what I was doing there in the first place.

I went through an entire 7-11 sized bottle of Advil since Sunday night. While my cramps haven't been as physically bad as they used to be, the nausea that insists on accompanying them has been getting disproportionately worse. When I felt too sick to walk to the store, and everyone I asked ignored my pleas to bring me more, I knocked on Andrew's door downstairs (and had to let myself in because no one answered) and asked him to take me to the hospital when he was finished. (He's been trying to convince me that going to the ER is the proper thing to do since my reoccurring stomach flu.)

"Oh, this'll all go away when you have children, honey!"

I think the hospital missed the point in the end. I was diagnosed with bad cramps even though they were just an annoyance. I had an IV in my hand (every bit as painful as I remembered) after the elbow vein "blew" so I'll have matching scars. (Note to self: don't try heroin—you'll never manage.) They took blood and gave me drugs for pain and nausea. They used some kind of catheter (every bit as painful as it sounds) to get a "clean" sample for a pregnancy test.

I got to go home at 4:30 in the morning, with a bottle of Naproxin (the stuff that doesn't work on me anyway) and rectal suppositories(!) for nausea. "If someone's desperate enough, they'll use them." Needless to say I'm not.

Andrew had been waiting for me in the waiting room that whole time. He came in at one point around 4 to see what was going on, while I was abandoned between visits. We slept in his bed this morning because I hadn't put sheets back on mine and he drove me to work so I could get two hours of sleep instead of one before work today.

Days like this make me wish I played more violent games.

Happy-clicker took the weekend off and my brain won't function now—and that's not just an excuse for having nothing to say.

We were talking yesterday in the car about what it would be like if department stores divided men's clothing the way they do women's. Instead of just separated by age—'men' and 'boys'—you'd have the Mister's section, Gentlemen, and Guys, completely arbitrary labels as to size and style.

According to the radio commercials, currently teen boys are 'Young Men' and girls are 'Juniors'.

It is truely time to gouge my ears out, so I never have to hear another phrase like 'the lowest carbs of any dog food' on TV again.

Karla actually told me she's going to be on vacation tomorrow. There must have been a talk (or at least a mention) about that after all.

I was one minute late to work this morning. With my company's messed up attendance policy that means I actually lose 15 minutes of 'bad time'. I might as well have relaxed for another 14 minutes.

I just met the current credit department temp. She was told she should see me because of how "artistic" I dress. The weather just switched me from colorful sarongs to black velvet, so I wonder which style was being refered to.

Now that the moving and the cleaning is done with, I have to start working on the unpacking...