Spam, wonderful spam....

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gadgetry gilt bradley quadruple feminism
estes doubleday juno gregory contiguous
client frail frizzle indochinese

And yet, despite the wonderful alliteration of some of those subject lines, the mystery they promise, the cosmic quandaries they profess to ponder, all of them are selling the same thing: male sexual enhancement drugs.

To which I can only yawn.

In honor of it being the birthday of my ex-husband (the Antichrist), I'd like to present you all with some excellent examples of the Lying Sacks of Shit that we have in power today. But I'd like to begin with what I've been assured is a quote from the lovely and admirable James Carville:

"Back in 2000 a Republican friend warned me that if I voted for Al Gore and he won, the stock market would tank, we'd lose millions of jobs, and our military would be totally overstretched. You know what? I did vote for Gore, he did win, and I'll be damned if all those things didn't come true!"

I gave up on trying to format the rest of this post, which was up for the past day or so, and looking like shit. Suffice to say, it was a loverly screed against the lying sacks of shit in office, and came to you courtesy of MoveOn.org.

If you really want to read it, try the archives, or just go here.

Take it as a given that I want to keep my job. So how do I solve this problem? I can't do my job at the level of quality that I want, because other people have a say in what I do and how I do it. My boss asks for my advice, then either disregards it entirely, or just screws it up randomly. My battles with the PR department have been documented on this site, and every time I think I'm getting out from under their control, they fuck me in the ear with no oil.
I have a new VP, who has promised to "go to the wall" for us if we have a valid idea about how to do our work, who will defend us to the end for our vision of best practices. On the two occasions that I've had to test that resolve, he's caved, with the comment that one has to pick one's battles. So the result is that I don't believe in him or trust him and he's only been here for less than six months.

If asked for my opinion, what do I do? Do I give my best and honest answer, and wait for it to be ignored or gotten wrong? Do I give something less than the best answer, knowing that when PR gets wind of my point of view, they'll demand the polar opposite be done? Do I just smile politely and explain to my boss, that, well, he's the boss and he'll have to make those decisions? That I just couldn't (or won't) say?

That looks like (and is) passive aggression at its best, and a practice that is held in high esteem in this institution. While it works for damn near every incompetent I've had to deal with here, I suspect that I won't be allowed to get away with it. After all, the rules are different for me. Just look at the example of my office and the way I had to bend the rules into an origami crane just to get the furniture configured the way I wanted it, whereas the rest of the team, and the other team all got to bully their ways into what they wanted with no discussion from above.

Working here is like working in a particularly nasty whore house. Nobody wants to marry you when you quit. After a certain number of years working here, nobody wants to hire you when you leave. You've been ruined for real work.

And I have passed that point long ago. By the same token, I have lasted so long here that I am firmly held in place by the golden handcuffs. Offer me a job at the same salary, with the same benefits, and with a marginally more competent group and I would jump like a flea off a dead rat.

When I talk to other employees, we are all in the same place: held together with anti-depressants, cigarettes and alcohol.

So. Today was my first day back in my office. Or would have been, had I not been locked out. First, the outer door had the combination changed. Once in the hall, I discovered that during my absence someone had shut my door. The self-locking door to which no one has a key. Not one person. Not security, not the building managers, not the key shop. While I was at lunch (what? what else was I supposed to do? Sit in the hallway, on the floor? I tried that. It annoyed me more than anyone else.) someone managed to move a ceiling tile, and drop a hook over the inside door handle.
Also high on the incompetence-in-my-life list is American Airlines, which managed to somehow send my suitcase to Chicago, while I was flying home to Florida. It arrived a mere 23 hours later than I did. My husband had to pick me up, but the suitcase got a limo to my door.

Such is life. Once I had a suitcase go to Bogota while I was on a puddle jumper to Tallahassee. The baggage handlers told me I should take my old tags off of my suitcase before traveling. I had never been further south than Jamaica, and couldn't figure that out at all. Not six months later the same airline's baggage handlers were indicted (and later convicted) of smuggling cocaine. In people's luggage. People like me, whose suitcases disappeared and then reappeared. Nothing stolen, so no report filed. Missing luggage, so went straight on through customs, not searched. Clever, but not clever enough.

I always said that my teddy bear came back from that trip with a new scar and a knowing smile.

A few seasons ago on the Sopranos, when Chris was shot and had a near-death experience he described his vision of hell to the rest of the boys. "Hell," he said, "is an Irish bar where it is always St. Patrick's Day."

Don't start sending me hate mail, but I think he's right.
Another reason to love this little town is that it is 99.99% Danish. Guess what? None of that kiss me I'm Irish for today crap. No wearin' o' the green by people who have no relationship to Ireland other than that they think Kathy was a pretty hot model in her day. No hostile glares for wearing orange. No green beer, no green bagels, or green cream cheese or green rivers. No nada. And I couldn't be happier.

And my cousin, who I have never met, but who lives just up the coast, is going to come down tomorrow after my training session ends to get together. Has this been a great trip or what?

Yellow poppies, pink azaleas, little purple Johnny jump ups. There are trees in bloom, and little white clouds, swallows diving around in the sky. My god, this is one beautiful piece of earth. The air is mild, and not too moist. Again, if it weren't for the natural and unnatural disasters and the cost of living, I'd move out here in a New York minute.
Well, that and I hate being the only Jew in a one Jew town. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and the scars. Won't be doing it again voluntarily in this lifetime.

In my wandering around yesterday, I spotted a second quilt store and a third needlework store. Today we went to lunch by ourselves, and not with the class. They were all going up the valley to some Nouvelle Cuisine joint. The boy wonder and I went to a Mexican restaurant just across the street from our hotel. Yowzah! It was just heaven on a soft tortilla.

We still have another two days of training, and then it's back to the grind. I have decided that converting the hospital site will take me a good six months. At least.