6.29.2004
And Now for Something Completely Different. . .
Matt wasn't the only one to notice Pamela Anderson at the Olympic Trials for the US Women's Gymnastics Team.
Apparently, Pam is a huge supporter of gymnastics because she used to participate when she was younger.
Author's note: All puns in the preceding sentences were fully intentional.
Matt wasn't the only one to notice Pamela Anderson at the Olympic Trials for the US Women's Gymnastics Team.
Apparently, Pam is a huge supporter of gymnastics because she used to participate when she was younger.
Author's note: All puns in the preceding sentences were fully intentional.
6.21.2004
Growl
Not that I don't like Mondays, but I don't like Mondays.
Especially when you've got a teammate whose management style leaves much to be desired.
I snapped at him today. . . after cursing him out all last week because he's a micromanager who just won't leave me alone and let me work. And because every time I reached a step, I needed another form. That I didn't have.
Until today.
I had a project to do over the past week or two. I started the project and was working at my own pace. Which would be fine ordinarily, but. . . when you have a micromanager, this isn't fine.
I was pretty much finished with the project except. . . that there were two forms I needed to finish. One form I received at the start of the project.
The other form. . . was only sent out today. At 12 noon.
This ordinarily would not have been a problem, EXCEPT. . . the goddamned project was due today. And the micromanaging teammate was going from cube-to-cube checking on the project.
And that's part of what made me snap. For fuck's sake, leave me the fuck alone or else nothing will get done. I have the information, all I needed to do was put it into the goddamned template that you didn't provide me with until noon. NOON!
The other part is. . . he didn't knock on my cube wall.
Part of office etiquette when you've got cubes is. . . you treat them like offices with closed doors. You knock first.
This teammate doesn't. Consistently.
I could mention it to him, but I don't want to start anything, especially after snapping at him.
I've been stressing a little lately. . . housecleaning should be done on a regular basis so that dust doesn't collect and make me sick when I clean and move things around. Like it's been doing this week.
And the next person who attempts to boss me around will have their head bitten off.
Vampirically with a werewolf twist.
Not that I don't like Mondays, but I don't like Mondays.
Especially when you've got a teammate whose management style leaves much to be desired.
I snapped at him today. . . after cursing him out all last week because he's a micromanager who just won't leave me alone and let me work. And because every time I reached a step, I needed another form. That I didn't have.
Until today.
I had a project to do over the past week or two. I started the project and was working at my own pace. Which would be fine ordinarily, but. . . when you have a micromanager, this isn't fine.
I was pretty much finished with the project except. . . that there were two forms I needed to finish. One form I received at the start of the project.
The other form. . . was only sent out today. At 12 noon.
This ordinarily would not have been a problem, EXCEPT. . . the goddamned project was due today. And the micromanaging teammate was going from cube-to-cube checking on the project.
And that's part of what made me snap. For fuck's sake, leave me the fuck alone or else nothing will get done. I have the information, all I needed to do was put it into the goddamned template that you didn't provide me with until noon. NOON!
The other part is. . . he didn't knock on my cube wall.
Part of office etiquette when you've got cubes is. . . you treat them like offices with closed doors. You knock first.
This teammate doesn't. Consistently.
I could mention it to him, but I don't want to start anything, especially after snapping at him.
I've been stressing a little lately. . . housecleaning should be done on a regular basis so that dust doesn't collect and make me sick when I clean and move things around. Like it's been doing this week.
And the next person who attempts to boss me around will have their head bitten off.
Vampirically with a werewolf twist.
6.19.2004
First Things First:
Congratulations to Missy & Jeff on their engagement!
The two of you have something special and I wish you nothing but the best for the future.
See you soon!
Congratulations to Missy & Jeff on their engagement!
The two of you have something special and I wish you nothing but the best for the future.
See you soon!
6.11.2004
National Day of Mourning
I was thinking today about the designation of June 11, 2004 as a National Day of Mourning and how I thought about the recently deceased former President.
Ronald Reagan, much like Bruce Springsteen, loomed larger than life over much of my childhood. I remember confusing him with Dan Rather, because they wore their iron-gray hair in the same hairstyle and both had that set, confident, anchoring presence on TV.
Ronnie had a way of making you believe anything he said. He was an actor in his youth, so this was part of his career training. Yes, I understand that many people absolutely vilified him for his economic and political policies, but at least you got the sense that he believed them. It's not important to me whether or not he did. I was 10 when his second term ended, and more concerned with how stupid I thought my fourth grade teacher was than being interested in the election, although I remember Mike Dukkakis being a buzzword at our house. Ron had quietly slipped out of the public eye, for reasons I didn't care about then, but, in retrospect, he was most likely being tested (or even treated) for Alzheimer's.
When I read an essay in the New York Times Magazine about 10 years ago, which had been written by his son Ron, Jr.*, this giant who'd cast his shadow over much of my early political awareness became a very real, very human, very tragic figure. In my mind, I'd put him to rest then. The man our country simultaneously knew, loved and hated so passionately was dead, leaving only a pale shadow of the figure he once was.
On this National Day of Mourning, my heart goes out to Ron's family. They saw his slow death, as more and more of the man they loved (or whatever) slipped away as the disease advanced, finally claiming his mortal shell last weekend. I have experienced this kind of loss myself, and wouldn't wish it on anyone.
*Note: After hearing Ron's son Michael speak at his burial service, I don't think it was Ron, Jr. who wrote that essay in the Times, but rather, I think it was Michael. His speech had elements of the warmth and poignancy that so touched me in that long-ago essay, and I'd like to make the amendment here.
I was thinking today about the designation of June 11, 2004 as a National Day of Mourning and how I thought about the recently deceased former President.
Ronald Reagan, much like Bruce Springsteen, loomed larger than life over much of my childhood. I remember confusing him with Dan Rather, because they wore their iron-gray hair in the same hairstyle and both had that set, confident, anchoring presence on TV.
Ronnie had a way of making you believe anything he said. He was an actor in his youth, so this was part of his career training. Yes, I understand that many people absolutely vilified him for his economic and political policies, but at least you got the sense that he believed them. It's not important to me whether or not he did. I was 10 when his second term ended, and more concerned with how stupid I thought my fourth grade teacher was than being interested in the election, although I remember Mike Dukkakis being a buzzword at our house. Ron had quietly slipped out of the public eye, for reasons I didn't care about then, but, in retrospect, he was most likely being tested (or even treated) for Alzheimer's.
When I read an essay in the New York Times Magazine about 10 years ago, which had been written by his son Ron, Jr.*, this giant who'd cast his shadow over much of my early political awareness became a very real, very human, very tragic figure. In my mind, I'd put him to rest then. The man our country simultaneously knew, loved and hated so passionately was dead, leaving only a pale shadow of the figure he once was.
On this National Day of Mourning, my heart goes out to Ron's family. They saw his slow death, as more and more of the man they loved (or whatever) slipped away as the disease advanced, finally claiming his mortal shell last weekend. I have experienced this kind of loss myself, and wouldn't wish it on anyone.
*Note: After hearing Ron's son Michael speak at his burial service, I don't think it was Ron, Jr. who wrote that essay in the Times, but rather, I think it was Michael. His speech had elements of the warmth and poignancy that so touched me in that long-ago essay, and I'd like to make the amendment here.
6.04.2004
