Everyone knows that when the phone rings at midnight it's either a drunk, a wrong number, a drunken wrong number or really bad news.

When the phone rings at 7AM, it usually isn't a drunk, but it's probably still bad news.*

This morning it was my friend Jeffrey in New York calling to say thanks for the really cool flannel jammy bottoms, he liked them very much and the RLA and I are two of his closest friends, and oh yeah, he'll be killing himself today.

It just doesn't get any better, does it?

* or it's just my neighbor calling to tell me someone's walking their dog

UPDATE: Jeffrey called to say he's going to commit himself to an in-patient program for a while. The RLA is still a little pissy about me calling Jeffrey's girlfriend to give her a little heads up on his plans for the day.

I forgot my bite plate last night and woke up with a clenched jaw and a blinding headache, halfway to a migraine.

To make things more interesting, I had to go to the pharmacy when I got to work. They've given me a personal representative, so the entering of refills is painless, and in return I've decided to try and pick up my scrips before I go to my office. It's a compromise on both our parts.

But the service quality was its usual abysmal self. The snotty clerk behind the glass refused to make eye contact with me at any point in our transaction. This included handing forms back and forth, asking for a pen, turning in new prescriptions and taking the drugs that were ready. I was there for at least ten minutes. Not once, not even for a nanosecond, did the bitch make eye contact. She spoke at me, or in my general direction, but she never looked at me.

This sort of thing just drives me wild. I'm a freaking customer. Take my money, look me in the eye and say Thank you.

And that goes for customers, too. Put the fucking cell phone down for a minute, look at the clerk and make your request. Do not point or wave vaguely at something and expect the clerk to know what you want or mean. Do not keep yapping about your inane and inconsequential crap to the invisible person at the other end of the line. Put the phone down. Be polite. It won't kill you to be polite to the worker bees of the world.

Can you break your teeth from grinding them too hard?

I'm supposed to be making soup right now, Yellow Pepper Soup from the Silver Palate New Basics cookbook, to be precise, but I'm in my studio, typing. The RLA loves Yellow Pepper Soup, and I thought my dad might like it, so it was on the to-do list. Earlier in the evening I went out to get my car radio repaired (check) and stopped by the auto parts store for a gallon of anti-freeze/coolant, 'cause the lovely Zelda Bleu is leaking fluids.

Well, you know, once a gear head, always a gear head, right? So I loitered up and down the customization aisle and found a cool stick shift sock that had tiny little neon strips in the seams, and a set of techno/racing style pedals (gas, clutch and brake -- I only drive a stick), and took those and my anti-freeze up to the register.

The kid looks at the pedals and the stick sock and looks at me and says, "Are these for your son's car? Or yours?"

Well, bite me.

When did I start looking like someone who's old enough to have a son who drives a custom car? Or any car, for that matter. And that's when it hit me, like the wet kiss at the end of a hot fist.* I am not only old enough to have a kid who has a custom car, I'm old enough to have a kid who has a kid.

I turn fifty this year, and while that's never bothered me** it's never bothered me because I don't look or feel my age. Until now, I suppose, if some pasty-faced kid in a polyester shirt with his name on the pocket is asking if I'm buying custom accessories for my son.

I can't even write that off as some kind of male chauvinism, because if I DIDN'T look old enough to have a kid who drives, he'd have been asking me if it was for my boyfriend, right?

Well, crap. Let me count the blessings here. I'll get to join AARP and get some nifty discounts that I'm currently not even aware of. I'll get free checking at the bank, except I already do. Discount movie tickets? Um, hmmm. Stumped. What other benefits are there?

I'm not dead yet.***

So, what should I do this year to keep the wolf at bay? I'm thinking Paris for my birthday itself. Learn something new? I started teaching myself how to knit better, and how to write better code. I could learn enough French to get by in Paris. I could force myself to learn to roller blade. I could force myself to listen to top 40 radio to see what's popular these days.

Or I could revel in the fact that I'm finally old enough to have earned my bad attitude and curmudgeonly ways. Yeah. That. And Paris.

*Firesign Theater: The Further Adventures of Nick Danger
** Much
*** Monty Python and the Holy Grail

As seen at Solonor's and http://solonor.com/archives/002199.html#002199">The Smarter Cop.

The following is a list of the 100 best rated movies on IMDb.com (by their loyal readers).


Bold the ones you've seen. Italicize the ones you want to see. Underline the ones you own. Put an asterisk by your favorites. (Or, in my case, just click on my list of movies) Write down the ones you don't want to see on a 3x5 index card and memorize their names, so you can tell complete strangers how cool you are for not wanting to see Citizen Kane. (Last step optional.)

For me, though it isn't on the list, that would be Titanic. Why anyone would want to see it is beyond me... Boat sinks, damn near everybody dies. The End.


1 Godfather, The (1972)
2 Shawshank Redemption, The (1994)
3 Godfather: Part II, The (1974)
4 Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, The (2003)
5 Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The
6 Casablanca (1942)
7 Schindler's List (1993)
8 Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The (2001)
9 Shichinin no samurai (1954) (The Seven Samurai)
10 Star Wars (1977)
11 Citizen Kane (1941)
12 One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
13 Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
14 Rear Window (1954)
15 Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
16 Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
17 Memento (2000))
18 Usual Suspects, The (1995)
19 Pulp Fiction (1994)
20 North by Northwest (1959)
21 12 Angry Men (1957)
22 Fabuleux destin d'Am?lie Poulain, Le (2001)
23 Psycho (1960)
24 Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
25 Buono, il brutto, il cattivo, Il (1966) (The Good, the Bad & The Ugly)
26 Silence of the Lambs, The (1991)
27 It's a Wonderful Life (1946)
28 Goodfellas (1990)
29 American Beauty (1999)
30 Vertigo (1958)
31 Sunset Blvd. (1950)
32 Matrix, The (1999)
33 Apocalypse Now (1979)
34 Pianist, The (2002)
35 To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
36 Taxi Driver (1976)
37 Some Like It Hot (1959)
38 C'era una volta il West (1968) (Once Upon a Time in the West)
39 Third Man, The (1949)
40 Paths of Glory (1957)
41 Fight Club (1999)
42 Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi (2001)
43 Boot, Das (1981)
44 Double Indemnity (1944)
45 L.A. Confidential (1997)
46 Chinatown (1974)
47 Singin' in the Rain (1952)
48 Maltese Falcon, The (1941)
49 Requiem for a Dream (2000)
50 M (1931)
51 Bridge on the River Kwai, The (1957)
52 All About Eve (1950)
53 Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
54 Se7en (1995)
55 Saving Private Ryan (1998)
56 Raging Bull (1980)
57 Cidade de Deus (2002) (City of God)
58 Wizard of Oz, The (1939)
59 Rash?mon (1950)
60 Sting, The (1973)
61 Alien (1979)
62 American History X (1998)
63 Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
64 L?on (1994)
65 Vita ? bella, La (1997) (Life is Beautiful)
66 Touch of Evil (1958)
67 Manchurian Candidate, The (1962)
68 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
69 Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The (1948)
70 Great Escape, The (1963)
71 Wo hu cang long (2000) (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon)
72 Reservoir Dogs (1992)
73 Clockwork Orange, A (1971)
74 Amadeus (1984)
75 Modern Times (1936)
76 Annie Hall (1977)
77 Ran (1985)
78 Jaws (1975)
79 On the Waterfront (1954)
80 Braveheart (1995)
81 High Noon (1952)
82 Apartment, The (1960)
83 Fargo (1996)
84 Sixth Sense, The (1999)
85 Aliens (1986)
86 Shining, The (1980)
87 Strangers on a Train (1951)
88 Blade Runner (1982)
89 Metropolis (1927)
90 Duck Soup (1933)
91 Finding Nemo (2003)
92 Donnie Darko (2001)
93 General, The (1927)
94 Toy Story 2 (1999)
95 Princess Bride, The (1987)
96 City Lights (1931)
97 Great Dictator, The (1940)
98 Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)
99 Lola rennt (1998)
100 Notorious (1946)

Allie asked, why not go to another pharmacy?

Because, Allie, this is America. In America, we don't have socialized medicine because the brainwashed, the brain dead and the pharmaceutical companies have decided that would be one step away from communism and that would be bad. One of the few worthwhile benefits of working at this hospital is that, although the pharmacy doesn't take insurance, employees can purchase meds at 10% above cost, or $1.85, which ever is cheaper. I can't use my insurance to buy my parents drugs: that would be fraud. It would also be about $10. a prescription. If they buy them themselves (and at 85, they have Medicare, which does NOT cover drugs...) some of my mother's meds would cost over $300 a month. By suffering the insufferable Mr. Pimple, I can save about two hundred dollars a month for them.
On another front, my office is about to move again. We will be sharing space with another team, unrelated to the work my team does. They have a manager who is one of the most toxic individuals it has ever been my misfortune to meet. In this, he is typical of the average employee at this institution.

Six months ago, when the move was announced, my manager took us to look at the office space, and we all picked out our rooms, ordered furniture and waited for the painting, carpeting and furniture. I was going to get a private office for the first time in about seven years.

A month ago, it was announced that this other group would be sharing space. Fine. Two weeks ago, we went down and reorganized ourselves. The furniture that had been ordered was for certain rooms and configurations, but we were able to sort it out and make it work. The Toxic Manager complained that if my manager had one of the two rooms with a window, then he had to have the other one. Although, when asked, he insisted that it had nothing to do with square footage, or a case of "if he has it, I need it too." There was no other reason offered, except that it was his wish. Period.

My two co-workers who had been assigned that windowed room were switched to my office, and I was sent down the hall to a small, but still private, office.

Toxic Manager had a shit fit. If my manager had people in private rooms, then HE had to have people in private rooms. I was thrown out of my office, and my other co-worker, the Boy Wonder, was moved from his private office to another private office. I was told I'd have to share space with one of the Toxic Manager's people. I said that I didn't care to do that, I as rely quite heavily on my team, and need to work with them. Toxic Manager told me that what I wanted was irrelevant. HIS person was going to get the single.

I offered still another floor plan. I said what if the two huge manager's offices get configured to each hold two employees (the way we had it originally) and the other two big offices get two employees, and the two smaller singles become the managers' offices and the little bitty, odd-shaped room becomes the conference room? That way both managers get a single, and none of their employees do. Each manager has four employees in two large offices. Everybody has the same square footage.

Toxic Manager refused to give up his window. The director refused to listen to this crap and said: here's the deal. Each manager has a window. One manager can have two private offices and the stupid crap room that is going to seat two people, even though the space is so small that you can't push the chair away from the desk, you have to slide in from the side. The other manager will have the two two-person spaces. Toxic Manager, you liked that decision, so the other manager gets first choice.

My team. Except Boy Wonder insists on having his own space. Big Man insists that he's too big to share any space with anybody, and he already lost his window, so therefore, if Boy Wonder gets a private office, he gets the other. That means I will be sitting in a space so small that I won't be able to turn around at my desk: literally.

Boy Wonder and Big Man are no longer speaking. I have lost any hope of a private office. In one afternoon, the Toxic Manager has managed to take a well-oiled team, one which truly had an esprit de corps, and turned it into a feuding, toxic pile of crap, just like his own "team."

And we will all have to share space. Toxic Manager is known to snipe, and make snide comments and belittle and badger. And we, having stood up to his bullying, will now be the focus of his bile. Toxic Manager is a bully. He is loud and he is abusive. And so, he gets his way. Because even the directors above him don't want to stop him or even confront him.

One afternoon. That was all it took to make my work place go from a respite from the back-stabbing snakepit that is this institution, to more of the same. One afternoon and one toxic bully.

Once upon a time, a consultant came to this hospital to analyze the pharmacy and make recommendations about how to improve service. He left saying that the only thing that could help would be a small thermo-nuclear device and a fresh start.

That didn't happen. Too damn bad.

I had another run in yesterday with the short little man who is a day-time manager. I shall refer to him hereafter as the Insufferable Mr. Pimple. Did I mention he was short? There's a latent element of Napoleonic complex, I think, as well as the classic "arbitrary use of petty power". Of course, maybe he suffers from Oppositional Defiant Disorder, and must be accorded special treatment under the Americans With Disabilities Act. Or maybe he's just an odious little prick. You decide.

For reasons that are completely specious, the pharmacy has decided to allow employees to drop off and pick up prescriptions during highly constrained hours. Like, from 5AM to 11AM, and 8PM to midnight. I work on the other side of campus and get to the pharmacy building only on my lunch hour.

The clerks take my 'scripts with no problem, or they did, until the Insufferable Mr. Pimple took over. Then we began a dance. The clerk would point to the sign, and say, OK, this once. I would look at the sign and explain that by changing the hours, the pharmacy administration had arbitrarily and without negotiation, changed my employee benefits. I refuse to accept this, therefore, I will continue to bring in my prescriptions at my convenience.

The Insufferable Mr. Pimple doesn't like this attitude. The Insufferable Mr. Pimple doesn't like me. I know that this is a personal thing because the Insufferable Mr. Pimple hands prescriptions to other employees right in front of me, without so much as a nod to the sign stating the new hours. But for me, the Insufferable Mr. Pimple goes so far as to tap the sign in the window and yell at me. TAP, TAP, TAP!!! You CANNOT pick up your medicine. We Must Follow The Rules!!! And then he says hello to Mrs. Rodriguez from Finance, and hands her her meds.

I say: if We Must All Follow The Rules, why are you giving Mrs. Rodriguez from Finance her meds and no grief? And the employee behind her? And the two in front of me? But not me?

The Insufferable Mr. Pimple lost it at that point and told me that he wouldn't fill my prescription at all today. If I didn't like that, said the Insufferable Mr. Pimple, I could just go talk to his supervisor.

Which, needless to say, I did. I pointed out to the supervisor that the Insufferable Mr. Pimple is Hispanic, as were the employees he was happy to help, whereas I, well let's just say that I have a last name that would have had me wearing a yellow star in Nazi Germany, right up to the point I got off the train at Auschwitz.

The supervisor was shocked, SHOCKED! that I would imply such a thing. I said, "Uh-huh, yeah, sure, right, whatever. How come I'm the only person who gets a lecture and a TAP TAP TAP, then?"

The supervisor couldn't rightly say. But he could order the Insufferable Mr. Pimple to issue my meds, and he did.

Except, of course, he got them wrong, and only filled them for one month instead of three, thus ensuring that he and I get to do our dance again, and again, and again.