* throws confetti *

She couldn't live further away from me (and still be in the lower 48) if she tried... so I'm throwing my little party here.

Happy 30th birthday Andi!!

You're now again a year older than me-- hah! Granted... it's for only a month, as always, but I just have to say that-- as I always do. :)

I have to admit, though-- it's very weird that you're 30. I've been spending the last few months trying to get used to saying that about myself. That I'm going to be 30. It's a bit easier to conceptualize Erich being 30. But for some reason, grasping it about you is a bit more difficult... perhaps because I've known you so long, and probably because most of my memories of the two of us are this big jumbled mess of age five (only because I can't remember earlier) to age 21.

There are many days that I miss our time of going on great safaris through the Rimrocks, climbing along those ledges that our parents would kill us for going near. When I've been home, the boulders still have their names-- Telephone Rock, Sandwich Rock. You know-- I tried to climb into the little cave in Sandwich Rock when I was home last, just to see if our scratching was still on the wall. (I couldn't-- my ass is too big).

Around five o'clock in the afternoon most days, I still get a little memory of quickly running up and touching Ghost Rock together so the "unknown spirits" of the Rims wouldn't get us, even though Ghost Rock is 2,000 miles away and there really is no substitute around here. What WAS that spirit we were afraid of (either jokingly or seriously), anyway?

And FYI-- apparently we're not the only ones who do that, because as of two years ago, the current kids of the neighborhood seem to believe the same "curse" and do the same thing. We're suburban legend creators! *beams proudly* And yes, I'm proud to be the one who corrupted you into swearing. I'm sure your parents are so proud of me. But you have to admit, it was a gift that just had to be passed on!

I don't know if you saw it last year-- but I fought so hard not to laugh when Star Trek: Nemesis came out. The whole Troi-Riker arc made me immediately think of you. Especially with how crushed we were as it seemed that said romance was falling flat in the later seasons. To answer your question-- the badly written Star Trek fic AND that really-should-not-be-spoken-of-again attempt at sex!fic that we wrote is... somewhere. I'm hoping it's in the storage tubs at my mom's house and wasn't left in my room for the Stepmonster to find when she took over my room at home. Said fics should probably never see the light of day again. *grin* But if I ever do, you'll get a copy-- a photocopied copy (because the handwriting is part of that whole experience) so you can giggle, too.

Pool parties, sleepovers, the introduction of the classic party games (*ahem* I never got my bra back from your parent's freezer)... the two of us did everything together. It's no wonder we were love-hate throughout our childhood, amusing our parents to no end with the "I'm not talking to her-- I hate her" b.s., followed in about a week by "Oh that? No, that was nothing, Mom!". I swear, the two of us are siblings more than we are with our actual sibs a lot of the time! No wonder they never got involved in our squabbles-- we just always seemed to fix them ourselves.

It amazes me how much you've been a part of my life-- how important a part of my life you are. And even though we don't talk as often now due to the miles and our everyday lives, I'm happy to know that if I pick up the phone, we just start talking as if no time has passed since the last conversation.

So have a happy birthday, Andi. Hug that little cutie of yours and kiss the bigger cutie. And enjoy.

(and I'll enjoy my last 32 days of my twenties until I catch up to you again)

Love ya,
"Kent"

Profession: Adult Babysitter

Herding cats doesn't quite describe it. But I'm convinced that when you get a group of more than ten adults in a department and give them an administrative assistant, they all instantly become two year olds who can't do anything for themselves.

Today:

First subject of discussion is Coworker #1. Coworker #1 is a kind woman in her mid 40's who has worked at my company for the past seven years.

Coworker #1: Mel, do we have any paperclips?
Me: There should be a ton in the cabinet
Coworker #1: Yeah, I looked there. I didn't see any.
Me: (knowing that I just put twenty boxes of them in the cabinet yesterday). Top shelf on the right. Red Staples boxes. Just grab one.
Coworker #1: I didn't see any. I just need a couple. Can you help me?
Me: (name of coworker), I just put twenty boxes in the cabinet. There have to be some in there. No one goes through 20,000 paperclips in a day.
Coworker #1: I didn't see any. Honest.
Me: Okay. Fine. Let's go to the cabinet. (I get up, fighting the sigh)
Coworker #1: Okay.

There are 20 boxes of paperclips in the cabinet. Right where I told her. I handed her one. She takes FOUR PAPERCLIPS out of the box and HANDS IT BACK TO ME.

WTF?

Take the damn box. They cost a cent. Literally. Because I know you're going to come back tomorrow and ask me for a few more.

And really, is it that hard to read the red box that says "Paperclips" on the side?!?

I'm convinced she just wants my nifty colored ones that I got for cheap at Staples last year.


Second subject of discussion: Coworker #2

Coworker #2 has been with the company for a month and works for us through a temp agency. She's a tad clingy, and one of the ones who is in my cubicle ten times a day for something or other. I have physically disappeared from my cubicle on purpose when I've heard her coming.

Coworker #2: Mel, I haven't gotten paid for last week.
Me: For last week as in week ending Friday the 3rd?
Coworker #2: No. Thanksgiving week.
Me: Have you called payroll?
Coworker #2: No.
Me: Okay. You need to call them. I don't have access to paychecks.
Coworker #2: But you can cut me a check, right?
Me: No. I have no authority to cut checks.
Coworker #2: But you cut all of the checks.
Me: Noooo... Payroll cuts checks. Where did you hear that I did them?
Coworker #2: Well, admin assistants do all of the check writing, don't they? It's administrative.
Me: Payroll takes care of pay checks. Accounts payable takes care of any other checks.
Coworker #2: oh. (stops to think). So if I get you my timesheet, then you can give me my check? Because you send stuff to them, right?
Me: YOU need to send your timesheet to payroll. I can't send it there. (getting the picture) Did you turn in a timesheet for Thanksgiving week?
Coworker #2: No.
Me: Well, you need to do that, and then payroll can pay you. That's why you haven't been paid.
Coworker #2: Oh. Okay. But if I give it to you, you can get me paid today, right?


AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!

thankfully, one of the intelligent co-workers heard this conversation and called me from her desk to save me. I was able to shoo stupid coworker (#2) out of my cube.

How do these people survive? Honestly. I want to know.

*sigh*

(and one of these days, I'll have a positive entry. Honest)

Mortality

Like so many people during their commutes, I listen to the radio on the way home in the evening. I usually flip between WAAF (to get my hard rock buzz), WBZ (for news) and WEEI (sports radio-- though I listen specifically for the "whiner line" call in segment of the commute program). It depends on the day. Sometimes I flip between all of them a lot. Sometimes I stick somewhere.

Last night, I stuck as I heard the news.

David Brudnoy is dying.

*sigh*

For those of you not in the Boston area, David Brudnoy is a well-known personality on radio here in Beantown. He's been on air since the late 70's with a wonderfully intelligent, thought-provoking show. He had a wonderful speaking voice-- full of life and intelligence that could border on arrogance, but had a softness and warmness about it that didn't intimidate. He's a gay man, and he's been surviving full blown AIDS for over a decade (including some very close call scares).

Brudnoy was a professor in the College of Communication at Boston University, and was slated to be my original faculty advisor. But he grew very ill and had to go on leave a couple months before I was slated to meet with him for the first time. Jason had the pleasure of a class with him as an undergrad, and spoke so highly of him as a professor. I knew him more from his hours in the journalism department office when I worked there post-graduation as the department secretary.

So when I heard the news last night, I immediately called Jason.

We listened to his final broadcast last night-- an interview by one of his colleagues. Professor Brudnoy is now in the hospital, dying. The interview was heartwrenching-- his voice was so weak, yet his view on where his life has been, and where he is going was so accepting. He joked in the interview about frantically finishing his grading for the most recent term of papers to prevent students from getting an automatic inflated grade. A smartass to the end.

He's in my thoughts today, and while I'm sad that his life is coming to an end, I'm happy that he's found acceptance of his situation to approach it with such amazing courage.

I could only hope to reach such a point.

Farewell, Professor.

Dreaming of Warm Places

Ah yes... it's raining upward. And sideways. And diagonally. And in a spiral. And in any other direction you might possibly imagine which would make an umbrella a quaint but completely unusable item. It's wet. It's raw. It's cold. Bleh. December in Massachusetts. Ick.

I am SO ready for my trip to Phoenix this Saturday. I'm relieved that I know that I'm actually going, too. My mom put herself in charge of making reservations for me about three weeks ago. So I've been waiting for them. By Saturday, I was a bit nervous about the possibility that maybe I wasn't going after all, because I hadn't heard anything from her. Yesterday evening, she sent the official itinerary fax. Other than a really tightconnection back next Wednesday, it looks just fine. The whole 9:23 p.m. arrival in Charlotte and 9:55 p.m. departure from Charlotte has me a bit... worried. Hopefully my gates will be close together and the weather will be okay. *crosses fingers*

So this weekend and early next week, I'm going to be slacking off, using my remaining vacation days, and pampering myself in complete and utter luxury with my mom. Girl's week out (she's paying. This is a Not.On.My.Salary! type of place). I'm going to be smiling sweetly to beg my mom to cover a massage, and either a facial or a pedicure (I've never had either professionally done) as my Christmas gifts, if I can swing it.

The Meditation Atrium and I are going to be close friends, too. It's been a long time since I've had the opportunity to sit and meditate. Zen = love.

*le sigh*

My brother (who lives in Phoenix) will be hanging out with us when he's not at work. It's a dual-purpose trip, after all. Mom and I haven't had the one on one time in years. And since Scott can't travel for the holidays this year, we're bringing the holidays to him.

And I've never been to Phoenix, so I get to explore a new place on top of it all. Yay!

It makes tolerating this yuck weather a bit easier...

Sisterly Weekend

FIRST--- I'm doing holiday cards next week. If you want me to send one to you, please quickly pop over here and add your info if you want one. My address book is a disaster. So even if I talk to you all the time on email, add yourself in. :)

I spent a good portion of my weekend up on campus to attend sorority schtuff. I feel like I was a complete slacker this weekend. But had a great time. :)

The majority of the Alpha Beta class went through 2nd degree on Saturday, followed by a long lunch over at Sunset Tap (formerly The 99, formerly Jumbalaya, formerly Caffe Lampara). Service was shitty, food was pretty good, but the company was fabulous. I got back home later than I expected and was a bit wiped out. I love being around people, but after a while large groups just exhaust me. So I spent most of the evening doing nothing special-- playing Sims 2, watching TV, playing with the cats, that sort of thing. It was nice having the apartment to myself, though.

Erich and Jason were off playing D&D at Frank's new home down in Providence. I was long in bed when they got back-- Erich gave a rough estimate of 5 a.m. (they DO realize they're no longer in college, right?)

Sunday was a lazy day for the most part. Erich was pretty zonked out all day. Jason dragged himself up and went over to a friend's place for the football games. I headed back up to campus around five to attend chapter meetings and such.

And on my way there, I nearly drove my car off Storrow Drive.

Anyone who lives in the general Boston area, I challenge you to attempt to keep your car straight if you're driving westbound on Storrow, too. Because when you reach the flats of Back Bay, there's a VERY unusual sight in the sky.

The Citgo sign is... working!

As in... every single tube of light is actually bright and working.

Anyone who has spent time in Boston in the last dozen years or so can appreciate that. No really-- both sides of the sign, even. There are no breaks (unlike in this photo from last summer.

It's really, really weird.

And the white is WHITE. The red is actually red-- it's not orange anymore. And the blue is a brilliant royal blue. It's a fucking beacon. And startled the shit out of me. Having spent many nights tromping through Kenmore, staring up at that sign with its not-so-random pattern of white and red color scrolling, seeing it in its correct spot but not familiar form was honestly a bit disconcerting. But considering that Kenmore Square itself just isn't Kenmore anymore (and has gone destressingly upscale), I guess they kinda did need to finally restore the Citgo Sign, eh?

It looks great-- of all of the changes in Kenmore, this is the one that I like. :)

Miracles of miracles, I found parking right next to where I needed to be. Yes, it was a Sunday night. But I didn't park on Bay State, and I found a spot on the street. I need to gloat for a moment.

CLA CAS is as fucking cold as I remember it. I swear there is no heat in that building. Ever. You'd think that with umpteen thousand students all paying about forty grand a year for college, they could make the heat work correctly in there. I realize I'm dreaming... but it's just a thought for the trustees and the B & G crew. It is December. Heat is a good thing. Really. Needless to say, I was very glad that I remembered to throw a long-sleeved shirt under my letter shirt. Otherwise I would have been in my coat the entire time.

But the meetings went well (from my perspective). I've now reached the status of Old Business. Yikes. Got lotsa dates and such to update on the site tonight... along with the spelling of Laura's name. (if there are typos guys? just email me with the correction... seriously... I'll fix 'em).

Holidailies starts tomorrow. I'm going to be portal-posting and using my Diary-X space for the main link, but will be posting everything as normal elsewhere.

Off to get timesheets in the system. I'll be on Trillian tonight for a good chunk of the evening if anyone's on any instant messengers... drop me a line if you're bored. :)