Fuck you, Estella.

About this time last week, my computer decided to stop recognizing USB devices, essentially rendering deaf and blind. I've borrowed an old mouse/keyboard and am working on fixing the problem, but until then?

RAGE.

Oh God

Too tired to think. Cannot wait for weekend.

It starts.

Night of Wii Fit hula hoop and skiing + DDR with Matt and The Boy?

Total fucking, epic win.

Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go nurse my spine.

Hmmm.

Am thinking about getting rid of Blackberry. Want smaller, less cracked-out phone, and don't want to pay $50/mo for internet, which is required if you buy a Blackberry.

Will probably go back to a Sony Ericsson. I miss the old one I had dearly, and the updated version is pretty sweet.

Yes, I am at work and cleaning out my car/paying bills, why do you ask?

Dear Madeline: Post a chapter!

Hmmm.

The problem with having an espresso machine is now I can make it just as strong as I want it. Which means I am never, ever, ever going to be happy with commercially bought coffee again.

But I am going to be alert. Oh God, am I ever going to be alert.

Yay Health

After what I went through with my teachers last semester, I have come to the conclusion that I need to have a formal, documented, fucking notarized statement of disability for when I become an official employee, otherwise I'm going to be dragged to hell and back over the fact that I can't write. ("But you don't look sick!")

So, when I went in to get my meds refilled, I got two referrals. The first is to a psychiatrist who is "very good with treating bipolar disorder, but has a, er, strong personality." (I swear klaxons just went off somewhere.) The second is to a rheumatologist, whom he believes will help me get said diagnosis. I mean, we already know what I have. We just need them to tell my insurance and my employers, right? Right?

Here we go again. ._.

Awkward.

[It's the start of the new semester, and the teachers are handing out the journals "we'll" be writing in during reflection time in class. Journals are passed out to my right, and run out just before getting to me.]

Tess: "That works out well!"
Me: "I know, right?"

[The stack of journals coming from the left also runs out one person before me. This girl, instead of realizing this happened for a reason, freaks her shit.]

Girl: "WE NEED ANOTHER ONE FOR WREN."
Me: "No, I don't."
Adrian: "She doesn't need one!"

Girl: *assumes we're both joking*
Girl: "WE NEED ANOTHER JOURNAL!" D:<
Adrian: "No, we really don't!"

[All classroom activity grinds to a halt, and everyone, including the Dean and all six assembled professors, stops and stares. Someone on the far end of the classroom flings a journal at her out of desperation, and she presents it to me triumphantly.]

Me: "Er, thanks, but I don't use them."
Girl: *absolutely aghast* "Why not?"

Class: *Is she serious?*
Me: *smashes face into laptop repeatedly*

She stared at me for the rest of the class period.

This is what fuming looks like.

So I may finally be mad enough at a coworker to go to Human Resources over it. (WARNING: Rant Content ahead.)

This year, for some strange reason, the office staff decided to decorate for Christmas. And I'm not talking a tree and some lights around the top of the room. We had stockings, garlands, enormous bows, sticky window decals, fake plastic poinsettias and almost every free surface was covered in wrapping paper. It was heinous. Some of the student staff (Okay, me and Shylock) grumbled about not appreciating having to work covered in other people's holidays, but were told they were "holiday" decorations, not Christmas.

Uh. There are angels covering the windows. But because they also bought some Jewish stars and "looked for a menorah" but couldn't find one, it's suddenly inoffensive. Never mind that Hanukkah is a minor Jewish holiday and other religions don't even have one at this point in the year, no. It's multicultural you can't complain.

So I didn't. I think it's a little unfair that these people covered the office in Christmas decor for three weeks and then went out of town for the holiday itself and let us heathens work while being blinded by Christmas lights, but I put up with it because some of my coworkers really liked it. But when I come back and work a grave shift on December 29, I'm looking around the office and decide to take them down. It's after Christmas, I'm dispatching with nothing to do, and I figure it will save Bosslady some time.

So. Tree goes back in tree box. Lights go back in light boxes. Garlands are tied and bagged, ornaments are hand wrapped, window decals are stored and labeled. Stockings are placed on the respective cubicles of their owners. Three hours later, the office has been restored, and everything is neatly put away. All's good, right?

If all had been good, this wouldn't be a rant post. The next day I come into work and find Bosslady waiting for me. Now, Bosslady is supposed to be on vacation. That's right. This woman took time out of her busy schedule to come yell at me for taking the decorations down.

"Wren, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure," I said, assuming we'd head for her office. Nope, she keeps standing right there in the middle of the office, in front of Daryl and Bossman Prime.

"Can you tell me why you took the Christmas decorations down?"
"It was time! They needed to be taken down."

There's a deadly pause. "And what do you mean by they 'needed' to be taken down?"
At this point I realize where this is going.

"Look, I was trying to help you out. It took me three hours to take them down and pack them up. And as I understand it, after Christmas, Christmas decorations go down."

"'As you understand it?'"

"Bosslady, I'm not Christian."

Cue furious backpedaling wherein she changes her tack. "Okay. I'm just asking because I got a call from a coworker who was very offended that they were taken down. The person also said the decorations had been thrown randomly around the office."

Now, anyone with half a brain would be able to tell that's not true. I explain my esoteric fucking organizational system to her, and she changes her tactic again. "Okay. Well, another issue here is that those decorations weren't the office's. They were mine."

"Yes, I know. That's one of the reasons I was so careful with them."

"Well, just because your bag is in the office doesn't give me permission to dig through it."

Here is where I didn't say "yes, but I don't hang my bag on the fucking walls for everyone to see." I'm still proud of myself for this one. Also, office policy is that any personal property we bring has to be stored in the back room. So if she wants to use this argument, she has to admit she was breaking the rules.

Long story short, she goes off on a tirade about respect. How I wasn't "respecting property" or people's religious beliefs because I offended them by taking the decorations down. Nevermind that I neatly labeled the decorations and made sure they were out for people to claim. Or that I've been responsible for taking decorations down countless times before. It's disrespectful, Wren! (Jesus would be ashamed of you!)

Meanwhile, I am being berated in front of a coworker and a friend and being shown no respect myself by being allowed to have this conversation privately. Also, she wants to talk about respecting people's religious beliefs? How about the fact that she didn't check to make sure it was okay to put the fucking decorations up in the first place? It doesn't matter that myself and several others were offended they were put up, because we are in a minority. But one Christian flips his lid that they were taken down four days after Christmas, and I get yelled at.

I've contacted HR. I'll be giving updates. This is fucking ridiculous.

My Yesterday

1.) Wake up. Wonder whether or not am hungover.
2) Drive home from Seattle.
3) Tea and eggs.
4) Yep, am hungover.
5) Nap.
6) Ohgod it's six hours later!
7) Bailey's hot cocoa.
8) Okay still hungover.
9) Fried rice.
10) Sims 2
11) Bake cake.
12) Make Bailey's cake, which is like rum cake but warm and yummy.
13) Showers help hangovers right?
14) No.
15) Sims 2.
16) 6 AM: Clean apartment and go to work.

Sometimes I hate the English language...

And then I come across words like this one:

Callipygian. (From the Greek καλλίπυγος) Adj. 1. Having beautifully-shaped buttocks.

Eat this, Mara.

Thanks to all the gift cards I got from the family over Christmas, I have a slew (I love that word) a slew of packages waiting to descend upon my door:

1) Espresso machine and coffee grinder
2) iSkin (for new iPod Touch)
3) earbuds and a new T-shirt
4) Review item the first
5) Review item the second (with which I will learn what makes Erotica "French" if it's written in English...)
6) DDR and dance pad
7) Milk steamer and chocolate syrup
8) Two movies
9) Assorted pyjamas

And then I have to go to Borders, Old Navy, and some other one I have forgotten to get movies, clothes, and cooking supplies.

...

Fuck. Time to go meditate for hours.

The woman from brunch apparently thinks I am "very rude."

I find two things amusing about this:
1) The irony, and
2) Fam saw the need to tell me so.

I knew there was a reason why I never go to brunch.

Just got back from eating out with Fam and some friends of hers. I knew it was going to be a long brunch when the following ensued:

"Where do you go to school?"
"The University of Puget Sound."
"Oh, university! What year are you?"
"I'm a graduate student."
*pause* "And what are you working toward?"
"A Master's in Education."
"Oh, my. You don't look at all old enough to be teaching!"

...

Odd. You looked old enough to have tact. Looks like we were both wrong.

I wish I could say that was the worst that happened. Unfortunately, this woman seemed to take an immediate dislike to me. We made it through dessert before things finally crumbled, but when she went off on a rant about how "today's kids don't care about anyone except themselves," I lost it.

Angry Old Bat: "When I was in school I got good grades because I wanted to make my mother happy! No one does that anymore."
Fam: "Lauren, what was your motivation for grades? Did you want to make me happy?"

They both turned to stare at me expectantly. Now, what I wanted to do was tell these idiotic women that when I did well it was taken for granted, so it wouldn't have mattered either way. Or I wanted to point out, yet again, that she was not my mother. (Sorry, mom's still responsible for more than half of my life, Fam. And she will be for another six years.)

Instead, I stare at them and say "I don't understand the question." Fam realizes it's a joke and laughs, but this woman loses it. We get into a discussion about me teaching, and Fam makes the mistake of saying I can teach with my tongue stud in.

"What sort of standard do you think you'll be setting for the students? Why can't your generation not conform?"
"How is a pierced tongue any different from pierced ears?"
"Because pierced tongues supposedly enhance ORAL SEX."
"Ma'm, I wouldn't know." *lies through teeth*
*sputters* "Well, I'm not talking about you! I'm just saying teachers with weird hair, or dreadlocks, they're setting a standard for kids! At the school I worked at, all the kids had to wear uniforms and the teacher shook their hands at the door in the morning! You probably think that's stupid, don't you?"
"No, actually, that's how it worked at my last placement."
"Oh..."
"I think you're making some very dangerous generalizations."

And then the check came.

This is what OCD looks like.

Damnit. Damnit.

I asked for the hardcover boxed set of the Harry Potter series. I had the link to Amazon and everything so there was no guesswork involved. I got the children's paperback set, which has books 1-6. The seventh paperback book does not come out until July, and so I am incapable of completing the set. But it's okay--since they're paperbacks, the rest of the series will have fallen apart by then. No, that went from OCD to ungrateful, and I am glad I have six *twitch* of the books.

I am going to go insane. >.<

asdfghjawudsalghbuh!

"Lauren, will you write MiniFam a letter from Santa?"
"Fam, I can't write."
"Oh."

The only thing that's missing is a new sketchbook and art pencils.

She's been calling everyone "the little people."

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Pre-flight jitters

Animals fed and watered? Yes.
Cages and litterboxes clean? Yes.
Trash ready to be taken out? Yes.
Packed? Yes.
Meds? Yes.
Chargers? Yes.
iPod? Yes.

On the verge of a nervous breakdown and about to cry? Oh God yes.

This is what conflict looks like.

I'm doing laundry and cleaning the house in preparation for me leaving at 3AM, and all I can really do is stare out the window and hope it snows more.

On the one hand, presents.

On the other hand, peace.

I am a bad person.

::EDIT::
I changed my mind. Fam has been calling since 5AM. I am not a bad person. I am a cranky, sleep-deprived person!

Interesting.

So I e-mailed my family and told them there's a chance I may not make it in for Christmas. Their reaction then was to tell me I was overreacting. "I've seen the news--you guys didn't get that much snow."

Well, today Aunt K's plane was cancelled. So they call again and say "hey, how are the roads? Do you think you'll make it in?"

When I honestly answer "I have no idea," I get two responses.

1. "You're being awfully pessimistic."
2. "But we got you presents!"

Neither of those seem quite right...