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wherein I expose my vicious side 2002-09-25 Here is something that has been bothering me for awhile, and I am going to gripe about it a little now because it seems to be getting more prevalent. The word realtor? Is pronounced ree-al-tor. It is not ree-la-tor. I am hearing people all over the place ree-la-toring, and I don't know but it seems like an insidious George Bush-ian "nu-cu-ler" thing. I am not the kind of person that corrects a peson's pronunciation when I hear it, because that is way too pompous and confrontational. But I have no problems correcting it in writing, because this is relatively anonymous and hopefully no one will feel singled out and shamed or anything. Shaming is the Last thing I want. I just want people to say ree-al-tor, as God intended. And nu-clee-ar, but that's another entry for another time. Last night when I got home I went up to the office to say hi to Francisco and he told me he was reading my diary entry. I looked at the screen and said that my diary looks different in the home computer than it does in my work computer, but then I realized that no it doesn't. The wonderful Catie redid my layout because I said how much I am loving the red lately. What a great surprise!! Catie rules, she really does. I have never been sorry I turned over creative control to her; she is the best, the smartest, and the prettiest. In short, I love her. Sometimes I look at yarn on eBay, because there is some really good stuff on there, at good prices. There is one lady who seems to be the eBay yarn queen, in terms of having the most auctions going on at any one time. This lady, god bless her, takes a lot of pictures of the yarn she's selling, and I like that. However, sometimes the pictures are so numerous, and the yarn is pictured in so many different ways or settings, that it's like yarn porn. Here is just one example. I haven't purchased yarn on eBay yet, and I would totally buy from this lady if I find yarn I want to bid on, but the yarn porn cracks. me. up. Tomorrow my office is having its annual Professional Staff Retreat. Or to put it succinctly, Hell Day. When I first started this job and found out we have a retreat day per year, I was happy because my last job had a retreat day and it was really fun. My favorite retreat with my last employer started out with breakfast in Santa Monica (this was when we lived in Pasadena), and we talked for 2 or 3 hours about work things. We then had lunch at an expensive restaurant, followed by the purchasing of a Map to the Star's Homes and an hour of driving around Beverly Hills and Bel Air. We got stuck in Tina Louise's driveway for a minute--it was thrilling. We were driving away from the Beverly Hills Hotel, where we'd stopped to use the bathroom, and the minivan our boss had comissioned for the trip broke down. We called the motor pool who'd rented us the van and they sent someone to get us. While we waited we got good and tipsy on sangria, and then it turned out the motor pool had sent a station wagon for the 6 of us plus the driver. We bitched and laughed all the way back to the office--it was so much fun. The retreats we have at This job? We go to the boss's house where his mangy white poodle is waiting, vigilant, to hump any unsuspecting leg. We have orange juice and coffee and those mass-produced danishes, and then we have to listen to the boss talk for 3 hours. Then, sensing the impending coma, perhaps, the boss suggests lunch and pushes this place near his house that is very mediocre. Last time we had a choice between the mediocre place and a Chinese place that was a wildcard--never been there, didn't know if it was good. I don't know about you, but I have to be in the mood for Chinese food, and I have to know it's good. Because good Chinese food is Good, and bad Chinese food is BAD. Last year I was not in the mood for indeterminate Chinese food, so I voted for the mediocre, but never again. The only way I would vote for the mediocre this year is if the only other choice is a nearby icky buffet place featuring 7 kinds of gravy and vegetables boiled to bits. I've been there once, for a group lunch, and I was pretty sure I'd end up with food poisoning [surprise: I did not]. One could almost Sense the fecal matter, lurking all around. I will not tell the name of the buffet place I'm talking about, since this "review" is so uncomplimentary. But I digress. After lunch we go back to the boss's house and listen to him talk until 4:45, at which time he generously lets us go home early. Tomorrow's retreat should follow this exact schedule (this is my 5th retreat at this job and they have All followed this schedule), except that I've been informed we will be discussing the boss's pet project. And by "discussing" I mean listening to him talk. And people, I have listened to him talk about this project about 6 times, and it's always the same thing. I can't stand to hear it again. I have 2 coworkers who have both said, with a look of desperation in their eyes, that They can't stand to hear it again. We will all be going to our happy places while he talks, and I am even thinking about bringing a flask of vodka, so that I can self-medicate in the bathroom if the situation gets too dire. And when I say that, people, I am only half kidding. I know what I've said about this retreat makes me sound mean and bitter and ungrateful, and those are ugly things. But until you've sat a mile in my pants and listened to my boss talk for 6+ hours, you can't know. The only person in our office looking forward to the retreat is a coworker who just wants to get out of the office and have someone else buy her lunch. She is a nice woman but a little too chirpy about things like this. And she loves free food; any free food. So. I will not be updating tomorrow, because I will be away from my work computer all day, and when I get home I will no doubt be too mentally drained. Come back and see me on Friday; I hope to have some amusing shit to tell you. Love,
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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