The case against having your vacation bank displayed on your paycheck stub

Posted on

(or as we say in the business, your voucher)

So, it’s 4 or 5 days from December. The good news is that I get paid on Thursday. This is the time of year when phrases like “black out dates”, “year end”, “working on Saturdays” and “Fuck you Christmas on Tuesday*” get bandied about the office.

What’s making me a little crazy now (other than that my Ambien hasn’t kicked in yet WTF??) is that I’m going to keep accruing time off all during year end but I can’t use any of it until February at the earliest. I hate how it taunts me, especially now that I accrue 4.615(?) hours per pay period. My time off bank is taunting me “Hee hee, loser, you have plenty of time off, perhaps now’s a good time to plan a trip to see your family! Oh, wait, what’s that? Oh, right, the 1/4 of the year where you don’t get to leave the building, let alone the state. Ha ha!”

What’s additionally annoying is that the new girl on the team was hired given the week before Christmas off so she could go to the Caribbean so that entire week I get to answer everyone’s questions about “How the hell did she manage THAT?”

And in other work news, the company is hiring for a team lead. The only way I’m putting my hat in that ring is if the money is tremendously better. I really really really dislike the trappings of management (in particular meetings) and the hard parts (training) are not even remotely my forte. And I think we all know I’m basically allergic to being the bad guy so I’d be terrible at having to tell people to get on the stick.

Ugh, time for more wine, I have got to get this Ambien working so I can go to bed.

*No, we don’t get Xmas Eve off. And 12/26 is a black out date and I don’t mean the type you forget because of the wine.

Vocabulary Lesson

Posted on

So, I should be folding the laundry but I’m not. Instead, I’m reading a thread on Gawker that included screencaps from various Twitter feeds. One of the Tweets (tweets? We capitalize ‘Twitter’ so therefore we capitalize ‘Tweets’ right?) mentions that the Tweeter (yes, at this point I’m just coming up with new tenses of the word – I’m a genius who’s spent most of the 4 day weekend watching Star Trek: The Next Generation SOMEONE SAVE ME)…

Anyway, the Tweeter says they feel a little “hatchet” due to their behavior. Apparently 35 is the new 85 because I no longer have a clue what the kids are talking about anymore. But, tomorrow at the office I’m going to work that word into conversation, by gum. One of two things will happen: 1) I will be instantly cool with my young coworkers* or 2) No one, in the future history of Earth, will use the word “ratchet” again in any definition ever.

* Seriously, everyone on my team is at least 2-3 years younger than me, including my boss. I thought the oldest person got to be the boss. Oh wells.

Thankful ’12

Posted on

So, despite my best efforts to stop time, we’ve hit the holiday season. Again. (Which means that year end is around the corner, but this is a post about things I AM thankful for, and besides, I just bought a half case of Apothic White, which should last me until at least January)

This year,

I’m thankful for my husband. He’s a good man, a hard worker, dedicated, loyal and I love him tremendously.

I’m thankful for the rest of my family. I talk to you all once in awhile so I will assume you all still live in the same place. (Another thing I’m not thankful for: the distance between here and Indiana and my abject laziness about planning a trip to visit you).

I’m thankful for my wonderful friends. When things sucked a few months ago, I got a text from one of you asking me to call and I was all “OMG! What’s wrong? Everything OK?” and it turns out she was worried about ME. Little old me.

I’m thankful for my job, or at least the paycheck. I really, really enjoy buying groceries, gasoline and shoes. Mostly shoes.

I’m thankful for Ambien and my crazy pills. “Better living through science” is the truest thing anybody’s ever written, even than that line about death and taxes. If Benjamin Franklin had had Ambien, he’d have said “The only guarantee in life is that on Ambien I sleep like I’m dead and I will gladly pay a tax on prescription drugs.”

Happy Thanksgiving y’all. Now why do I not have any pie in front of me?


Who am I?

Posted on

In case the thought bubble about a nose ring wasn’t bad enough, I just had the passing idea about having different handbags for each season. And the thought, “maybe I should find out what that lipgloss thing is all about” has been worryingly persistent. (Usually when I find my lipgloss on the bathroom counter).
Maybe I’ll make a girly girl out if myself yet.

Haha, November fools. I was born lazy and I doubt it’ll change anytime soon.

Well then

Posted on

I wonder if my employer’s dress code allows nose rings. Not, per se, Jane Child-style nose-ring connected to earring connected to ankle ring fuckery, but a little one.

And this is the conclusion of tonight’s episode of “Elaine Thinks Thoughts She Has Never Thought Before”

PS – I’ll probably never do this because OWW, hurts! and various and sundry gross reasons.
PSS – Autocorrect tried to change “Fuckery” to “Bakery”…not this time autocorrect!


Posted on

OMG, it’s Sunday night already. What the hell?? It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes ago I was happily driving home from work, thinking “YAY this is the weekend that will last 20 years instead of 30 seconds! I will write the Great American Novel, lose 50 pounds and clean my house from top to bottom this weekend!” Even though we gained an hour the weekend is still far too short.

On another note, I’ve been meaning to thank whomever I inherited my nose from. Gene and I were watching The Voice a couple of weeks ago and I told him “I may be fat* but I was born with a perfect nose” because two of the contestants had schnozes that made them look like Beavis. Tragic. I can think of three things immediately that I’d get corrected (were a plastic surgeon offering free services) but my nose is perfect. A friend once told me my nose was a little snout-ish and I almost hit her.

Because you care, the shoes from Ross are terrible but the purse is awesome. And the wineglasses are effective vessels for getting wine into my winehole. The message is clear: Just buy the damned Danskos you moron.

You didn’t hear this from me, but the word on the street is that the Twilight movies are only 99 cents each on Amazon Instant Video**. Betty and Sadie, both of whom sat through the first one, agree that that is at least 99 cents too much.

Speaking of videos, I just watched a video on a fashion blog about curling and styling your hair (well, my hair) (well, the blogger’s hair). Maybe someday I will do my hair everyday, but my basic reaction to the video was to try to figure out if this woman has a day job or if she’s managed to monetize owning a curling iron.

In exciting medical news, I really think most of my crazy has been re-eradicated by actually taking my anti-crazy pills. Better living through science! Also, I got the all clear on the mammogram. Also also, I can’t wait for Ambien O’Clock because I have a cartful of stuff again at Sephora and I can’t figure out how to explain to Gene that I need more perfume rollerballs. Presenting it as a fait accompli is a ton easier.

(Or maybe I can convince Betty to walk on the laptop keys in the right order later when she’s watching the next Twilight movie).

Can you believe that 4 years ago today I was in Malaysia? Yes I’m still talking about that because it’s been 4 years since I’ve done anything even slightly interesting. I just checked the archives (LOSER!) and 4 years ago today was the day I took a cab all by myself to Petronas and went to the observation tower.

Anyway, I’m OK, I hope you are too.

*Seriously, I tell all my skinny coworkers that if they woke up with my body they’d throw themselves bodily onto the highway. I’m a little worried I look like Honey Boo Boo’s mom, which is a unique worry considering we don’t have cable.

**Gah, I hope they’re all still only $.99. I want to watch them all like the other girls (much like Pinnochio I want to be a real girl!) but I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay much for the experience.