Strikes are a pain in the ass.
Yesterday on my way to meet a colleague at the airport, we found out that yet another goddamn Italian strike is taking place at the airport today, cancelling our reserved flight tickets which we had been assured we could pay for the day before (long story). I ran all over the frickin' airport in heels for 3 hours trying to find a flight for my colleague that gets him to Rhodos by today, since he had meetings on Sunday morning, and then trying to find another two practically non-existent flights on Sunday for me and another colleague before the conference starts on Sunday night. I now have two ripped blisters on the backs of my heels which bleed through my socks into strangely eye pleasing patterns. (After 17 years of ballet and pointe shoes, I don't notice when I rip blisters on my feet: it takes ripping a new blister on top of the previously ripped blister for me to pay any attention. Sort of like almost getting a stress fracture before you get your aching shin splits looked at by your orthopedist...I digress)
So I'm off to Rhodos tomorrow bright and early. Okay, so early for me means rolling out of bed at 8 am to leave at 9. I usually don't haul my ass out of bed until at least 10 am. Which mean this week is going to be an exercise in "Can she resist the temptation to throw her alarm clock out the window, and, more importantly, will she remember that her cell phone *is* her alarm clock, therefore it would be more prudent to pluck her lazy ass out of bed and turn the squealing piece of technology off in an appropriate manner?"
6 days of 5 star hob-nobbing and networking, which, in this field, tends to degenerate into a game of "Who can get Cirrhosis of the Liver first?" and "Who can get the highest bar tab and still write it off for tax purposes?" after 6pm. Before 6 pm, it's all business and key words and paradigm shifts in future market trends....ick. Consider my fake shit-eating customer service grin to be (mostly) in place for the next week. Here's hoping my big mouth doesn't get me in trouble.
Time to go squeeze a buttload of promotional materials in with my clothes and shoes and toiletries.
Wish me, luck y'all. A dopo...
28 September 2002
21 September 2002
Check-in
Hallo. Still batshit busy.
I am procrastinating on the speech. I like writing, but I'm finding a massive mental block has sprung up thanks to the subject matter concerning business (I'm not good at "professional" apart from web content and short ad blurbs) and the small, itsy, weensy detail THAT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD IN FRONT OF A LARGE GROUP OF PEOPLE. Did I mention I hate my voice? And as last years conference was video taped, I don't relish the idea of hearing my voice on tape either. On the plus side, this was good for a laugh or two (right after I seriously considered it for about 30 seconds. But I don't think I'd be able to keep a straight face while saying When you reach the end of the year, it's my experience that three things happen: You speed up, Then you tally up, and then, all things being fair, you find some time to rest up... ick.)
And in other news, a good friend of mine (and a girl friend of his) were in a major motorcycle accident last Sunday outside of Rome. My friend ended up with a busted shoulder, broken vein in his neck and basically opened up his right leg from groin to ankle and came damn close to dying from the blood loss. The girl was luckier and only broke her femur. My friend is doing better, but the doctors are keeping a close eye on his leg, as there's still a risk of it becoming infected and gangrenous, resulting in him losing his leg. We haven't had a chance to see go and see him in the hospital yet, but we're going tomorrow. The stupid driver of the car that ran into them said "Oh, I didn't see you." And had his insurance company call the hospital to make sure my friend had survived the night. Fuckwad couldn't even have the human decency to call in person and see if the victim(s) of his crappy driving survived. And I thought *I* had a small conscience. Next to him, I feel like Mother Fucking Theresa.
Anywho, back to speech writing, company researching, web site coding, ripping my hair out, and realising that there's not a 'professional' item in my wardrobe, nor a decent cocktail dress.
The "sexual favours that I won't follow through on in exchange for VBA and Word Macro advice for form templates" offer is still open. I'm desperate. *bats eyelashes so fast and furiously they fall off*
I am procrastinating on the speech. I like writing, but I'm finding a massive mental block has sprung up thanks to the subject matter concerning business (I'm not good at "professional" apart from web content and short ad blurbs) and the small, itsy, weensy detail THAT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD IN FRONT OF A LARGE GROUP OF PEOPLE. Did I mention I hate my voice? And as last years conference was video taped, I don't relish the idea of hearing my voice on tape either. On the plus side, this was good for a laugh or two (right after I seriously considered it for about 30 seconds. But I don't think I'd be able to keep a straight face while saying When you reach the end of the year, it's my experience that three things happen: You speed up, Then you tally up, and then, all things being fair, you find some time to rest up... ick.)
And in other news, a good friend of mine (and a girl friend of his) were in a major motorcycle accident last Sunday outside of Rome. My friend ended up with a busted shoulder, broken vein in his neck and basically opened up his right leg from groin to ankle and came damn close to dying from the blood loss. The girl was luckier and only broke her femur. My friend is doing better, but the doctors are keeping a close eye on his leg, as there's still a risk of it becoming infected and gangrenous, resulting in him losing his leg. We haven't had a chance to see go and see him in the hospital yet, but we're going tomorrow. The stupid driver of the car that ran into them said "Oh, I didn't see you." And had his insurance company call the hospital to make sure my friend had survived the night. Fuckwad couldn't even have the human decency to call in person and see if the victim(s) of his crappy driving survived. And I thought *I* had a small conscience. Next to him, I feel like Mother Fucking Theresa.
Anywho, back to speech writing, company researching, web site coding, ripping my hair out, and realising that there's not a 'professional' item in my wardrobe, nor a decent cocktail dress.
The "sexual favours that I won't follow through on in exchange for VBA and Word Macro advice for form templates" offer is still open. I'm desperate. *bats eyelashes so fast and furiously they fall off*
11 September 2002
Still alive
Hullo. Yes, I'm still around. Just have a few things occupying my time. I'm replacing a colleague at two conferences which are at the end of this month in Greece and Belgium, and have a crapload of work to get done before then, both for my normal job and for the conferences. I also have to make a speech at one of these conferences, which is causing no small amount of stress on my part. I hate speaking in front of large groups of people. Dancing, no problem, but the minute I have to open my mouth....ack.
I have also decided that Microsoft Word 2000 in Italian is a pain in the ass, as my attempts to make a form template are causing a loss of hair because i keep ripping it out. There's a reason why I'm not a secretary, aside from my lousy typing and spelling skills. This crap bores and frustrates me. Learning Photoshop in Italian was fuckloads easier than trying to figure out how to make my nice little one page form template repeat itself onto the next page automatically. (Yea, verily, tips would elicit much gratitude and promises of sexual favours that I don't intend to keep...)
As for the situation with one of my loved ones needing help, it's getting straightened out and karmic revenge on the offending party will ensue, with some help from my end as soon as I have time to think.
So if you email me, please don't get offended if I don't answer promptly. I have until the 28th to get Job #1 stuff done, as well as preparations for the first conference. I leave for a week, come back to Rome for 2 days, then fly back out to help with preparations at the second conference.
I is a busy, busy girlie.
I have also decided that Microsoft Word 2000 in Italian is a pain in the ass, as my attempts to make a form template are causing a loss of hair because i keep ripping it out. There's a reason why I'm not a secretary, aside from my lousy typing and spelling skills. This crap bores and frustrates me. Learning Photoshop in Italian was fuckloads easier than trying to figure out how to make my nice little one page form template repeat itself onto the next page automatically. (Yea, verily, tips would elicit much gratitude and promises of sexual favours that I don't intend to keep...)
As for the situation with one of my loved ones needing help, it's getting straightened out and karmic revenge on the offending party will ensue, with some help from my end as soon as I have time to think.
So if you email me, please don't get offended if I don't answer promptly. I have until the 28th to get Job #1 stuff done, as well as preparations for the first conference. I leave for a week, come back to Rome for 2 days, then fly back out to help with preparations at the second conference.
I is a busy, busy girlie.
Today's Rant Will be put off
The planned spewing of my opinion is getting put on hold as someone near and dear to my heart needs some massive support right now and someone else is in for some massive ass kickery. Fuck with me and mine and you will get your ass handed to you on a plate. And that's if I'm feeling nice. And I'm not.
I can't concentrate enough right now to spew. Soon.
I can't concentrate enough right now to spew. Soon.
10 September 2002
Pre-Emptive Strike
This was written a year ago tomorrow. The first rush of thoughts. Tomorrow will be a nice little rant about my thoughts now a year later.
The boss is out of town. I've just cleared up a problem with clients and am trying to settle down to coding the new website update. New arrivals have just walked in the door. They are babbling about a plane that has just crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. I hear it peripherally, dismiss it as an accident, recommence trying to concentrate in my makeshift office. A second plane crashes into the World Trade Center, this time into the other tower. It doesn't register at first but even so I am jumping down the stairs from the loft. CNN is blaring on the satellite TV. I grow quickly impatient. Then the reply of the video footage.
oh my god.
Words to a being I haven't believed in since I was 14. oh my god oh my god oh my god running through my head a litany still ingrained despite all proof to the contrary.
A fire has broken out at the Pentagon.
oh my god oh my god oh my god
The boss is out of town. I've just cleared up a problem with clients and am trying to settle down to coding the new website update. New arrivals have just walked in the door. They are babbling about a plane that has just crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. I hear it peripherally, dismiss it as an accident, recommence trying to concentrate in my makeshift office. A second plane crashes into the World Trade Center, this time into the other tower. It doesn't register at first but even so I am jumping down the stairs from the loft. CNN is blaring on the satellite TV. I grow quickly impatient. Then the reply of the video footage.
oh my god.
Words to a being I haven't believed in since I was 14. oh my god oh my god oh my god running through my head a litany still ingrained despite all proof to the contrary.
A fire has broken out at the Pentagon.
oh my god oh my god oh my god
09 September 2002
What Part of "It's Over" Do You Not Fucking Understand?
A couple of my ex's just don't get the hint.
Che figura di merda. My cell phone rang with an unlisted number just now. As my cell phone is on it's last legs, sometimes distinguishing voices is not very easy (not that I've ever been that good at "Guess who this is" over the phone. As a group of us have plans tonight, I thought it was one of the guys. The one who took me to dinner at Castel Gandolfo, to be exact. So when the voice at the other end said, " Do you know who this is?" I said "Ciao *******". And we proceeded to chat for a minute. When he asked me if he could take me out to dinner, I said, sure, but aren't we going out to dinner tonight with everyone? "With who?" So I named the rest of the group. "Who do you think I am?" Uh, I did say "Ciao *******", no? "No this isn't *******, but my name is similar."
Shit. Rebound Boy Toy. Who, despite the fact that I dumped his ass over 10 months ago, occasionally calls asking me out. "So can I take you out to dinner?" Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. "Uh, we'll see." "Meaning no, correct? Too bad I'm not *******"
Che figura di merda. My cell phone rang with an unlisted number just now. As my cell phone is on it's last legs, sometimes distinguishing voices is not very easy (not that I've ever been that good at "Guess who this is" over the phone. As a group of us have plans tonight, I thought it was one of the guys. The one who took me to dinner at Castel Gandolfo, to be exact. So when the voice at the other end said, " Do you know who this is?" I said "Ciao *******". And we proceeded to chat for a minute. When he asked me if he could take me out to dinner, I said, sure, but aren't we going out to dinner tonight with everyone? "With who?" So I named the rest of the group. "Who do you think I am?" Uh, I did say "Ciao *******", no? "No this isn't *******, but my name is similar."
Shit. Rebound Boy Toy. Who, despite the fact that I dumped his ass over 10 months ago, occasionally calls asking me out. "So can I take you out to dinner?" Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. "Uh, we'll see." "Meaning no, correct? Too bad I'm not *******"
07 September 2002
Wymyn Roaring make me want to plug my ears
Excuse me while I roll my eyes.
I ran across this on Metafilter. As poorly thought out crapola like this makes my back molars grate, here's my two cents. (Not in same order as the original page)
I ran across this on Metafilter. As poorly thought out crapola like this makes my back molars grate, here's my two cents. (Not in same order as the original page)
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