::alio!::

adventures in masochism

So, yesterday, Cara and I went downtown to here and did this.

And yes, OW.

It wasn't so bad, though. And I'll do it again. The price was reasonable and the place was pretty nice. I'm totally getting a different girl next time, though. My girl barely spoke to me the whole time (I don't even know her name and she just got as intimate with me as my gynecologist), then left me doggy-style on the table, covered in wax. She didn't even leave the room while I undressed, which, given what she saw, seems reasonable, but they ALWAYS leave the room. Even your gyno leaves the room.

It was only until after I'd paid that I found out how much I'd been screwed over. Cara's girl, Charlotte, talked to her the whole time, explained what she was doing, and prepared her for the worst bits. At the end, she got oil to get rid of the wax, a cold compress, and antiseptic solution.

My girl (again, the Nameless One) actually missed a BUNCH, some patches here and there, which I can't fix, really, because I can't see them, and some stray bits here and there that she was supposed to tweeze out, but didn't. I had to do that myself. I guess she was late for her social engagement or whatever, because she ran out the door pretty quick while I was paying.

To quote Pie and Stef, and to be completely religiously unsensitive, I got JEWED.

And I totally over-tipped her for what I got, of course. Damn me for being gregarious.

Don't get me wrong, though. It wasn't a bad experience. It was certainly better than some waxing places I have been to, but it wasn't as good as it could have been, considering what I was doing.

All in all, I'd recommend the experience. I was pretty used to people fiddling around down there, as I'd had waxes before, but Cara was going in blind. Brave girl. So the parts that had already been done weren't so bad, but when they ventured on virgin forest, it was dicey. YEOW. The back, though, not bad at ALL. Totally fine, barely felt it. And not half so embarrassing as the front bit. So Tim's assertion that what we were about to do was an abomination (although he put it in such coarse language) was completely ill-founded.

So if you can make sure you have time for something alcoholic afterwards, go nuts.

Next time, though, I'm going to use one of those topical desensitizing lotions beforehand. I can take that pain, but I'd rather not. :D

Hanging out with Cara was nice, too. We don't often get to do that, just the two of us. Stupid Pie is always in the way. Tricky, though, because in addition to being a female friend of mine, she's also my boyfriend's best friend, so I can't exactly complain or anything around her (not that I have anything to complain about). We had a nice time, though, went on a bit of shopping afterwards. I got two new navel rings, one tiny gold one with a lady bug in it, and another huge bling-bling thing that Cara made me buy. She bought a purse, and some stuff at Lush. Then we went for alcohol, and met up with my LCI girls for dinner, which worked out okay. We went for dessert and met up with the Pie, and then the evening was over. I was home before midnight for once. What a surprise.

You know, there's so much potential for mayhem in Putty.exe. I just have this little black box, into which I can enter whatever I want, for ever and ever amen. There appears to be no limit. It encourages me to write bloody essays, which, I'm sure, dear readers, you have no interest in reading. So I apologize for my blithering, but with so much potential in front of me, and a faceless audience waiting for me, I can't help myself. Especially when I can present such graphic and disturbing stories for you to read!

Okay, I'm done for real.

Out.

it's PORN!

So, a party was had this weekend. Obscene things occurred.

And that's about it. More bulletins as events warrant.

busy bee

Walked to work in my new shoes today. I find it's the best way to break them in, but boy is it uncomfortable sometimes! Not so bad today, though.

Gar, this week is busy. Lots of work to do, lots of things to sort out, both for the birthdays this week and the camping next week. Incidentally, if you haven't yet confirmed with Andy or Matt, you should do so.

train wreck

Trying to see how fast I can make this post before my boss finishes his telephone conversation and comes out of his office. I apologize for spelling mistakes and if this cuts off abruptly.

Camping was good, if damp. First it was the humidity, and then it was the raging thunderstorm. Luckily we are hardcore, and were totally dry -- until the time came to put everything away. We have to set up the tent again asap to prevent it from growing mould.

We came home yesterday, though, and were both completely knackered. I've rarely felt so weak and stiff. A little better today, but I didn't get to sleep in as long as the Pie did, damn that boy.

Plans for this week? Nothing much. Trying frantically to see JB at some point, perhaps a double feature with Chel at some point as well, and then it's the Pie's 23rd birthday on Thursday, Cait's on Tuesday, and then Andrew's on the 6th, following camping party at Fitzroy (If you haven't confirmed yet, do so either through Matt or the Pie -- they have the permits for the sites). Brother dearest (Andrew) is home for a whole month, then we're going to a wedding back in my home town of Halifax. I haven't been there since I left at age 8. This should be interesting. I should get my digital camera fixed before then. The zoom, and now the shutter, are really sticky, like there's sand or summat obstructing them. I'm wondering if it's worth fixing at all, or should I just buy a new one? I guess that will depend on the cost.

Wow, this was a really train-of-thought post. I apologize for rambling. I'd better go now. I'm going home soon, and I want to look busy before I leave.

Lates.

phew

Typical of the passive-aggressive prick, all my worrying was for naught. Not a single inference, even, of confrontation. In fact, I buttered him up with lots of nerdy legal questions at coffee. So, desafortunadamente, I am still employed as a paralegal until further notice.

Camping tonight with the Pie. Voyageur. So I'm not around this weekend.

ENJOY IT!

whoops

Funny how everything else in this world was shut down last night because of the storm, but not Magpie, which shuts down every other time . . .

I'm in biiiiiig trouble today folks. In an argument with her father (aka Wayner), Chel let slip my frustrations with him for refusing me a raise. There was more argument. I'm so screwed.

However, I've prepared a calm, polite, and logical response to any and all comments he may come up with if he chooses to confront me with this "loyalty issue," as he calls it. I may be fired for my calm and logical response. I'll keep you posted if I suddenly become unemployed.

is bossicide legal?

Oooh, he thinks he's soooo funny.

Talking today about us getting a settlement on a Small Claims matter that's been ongoing since I started at the firm, Wayner starts going on about how if you push a bit, you can get anything you want. Then he says, "ask, and ye shall receive." Then pauses, touches my hand, and says, "but not YOU!" then laughs uproariously at his own joke. He's referring, of course, to my asking him for a decent raise and him refusing me outright for no good reason. Why? Because he's a dick. That's why.

And yes, I have applied for other jobs.

UPDATE: 13 July 2005, 8:20 PM

I dream of better things for myself. And I always play through the confrontation in my head when I tell the Wayner that I'm leaving. This is merely hypothetical, but I want to get it out, to let off some steam, and so I don't forget it. Bear with me.

MY REASONS FOR QUITTING:

1. I believe that I need to find a job which challenges me more than this one.
a) I currently hold an Honours BA in Anthropology. I am trained to perform analytical research, and answering phones and typing letters no longer taxes my abilities, often leaving me bored and dissatisfied with my work
b) Along the same lines, I have been in this employ for three years, and I believe that I need a change in order to perform at my optimal level.
c) My current status as an administrative assistant in a private law firm does not give me any avenues through which to pursue advancement to higher levels of employment. I cannot remain in my current position forever, and need to gain experience that will help me later in life.

2. I cannot afford to work here any longer.
a) At present, I make $12 an hour, which, with my part-time schedule, comes to about $14,000 a year.
b) My current expenses include a masters degree tuition of about $7,000, plus costs for school books, etc., which will likely come to another $1,000. Research costs for my thesis will be somewhere between $1,000 and $2,000, or possibly more. I also lead an active social life, although I try to spend wisely. With school paid for, I have $4,000 for an entire year with which to buy the necessities of life, and to keep up with my social commitments.
c) The majority of full and part time administrative assistants in this city make between $16 and $19 an hour. I asked you for a raise from $12 an hour to $15 an hour. I believed that this was a perfectly reasonable request, for the following reasons:
(i) With my BA, I am overqualified for the position, in which I have worked steadily for three years. (ii) In the recent family law trial we participated in, I memorized the entire file, organized it, and found all the information that you wanted, instantly, at your request. I attended Court nearly every day (save when extraordinary circumstances prevented me from being there) and severely aggravated my carpal tunnel syndrome in writing down highly accurate minutes of the trial proceeding. I then worked overtime and weekends for a month to ensure that these notes were presented to you in a legible and comprehensive manner. (iii) I work nights, and a reduced schedule due to my position as a full time student. I am, however, highly efficient (as you have said yourself, I am one of the best employees you have ever had), and my typing speed of 90-100 words per minute more than makes up for the lesser amount of time I am in the office. I am courteous and professional. I am observant and a fast learner. I am innovative and creative.
You chose to ignore my request, citing that I was young and demanding, and expected everything I asked for. You told me I didn't deserve to make any more than your daughter does (see 3.a), even though she is a casual employee in an entirely different profession, and works one day a week during the school year. You believed I had enough money, even though I pointed out that, through your negligence, I had not been receiving the Vacation and Statutory Holiday Pay I have been entitled to, in accordance with the Employment Standards Act, for the past three years. In total, this has deprived me of over $2,000.00. I have received from you only what I am entitled by law to claim in retroactive pay, which was a taxable $282. You told me you believed I made a fair wage, despite the vast gap between my pay and that of the average worker in Ottawa, as stated above. Finally, you never actually gave me a yes or no answer, preferring instead to explain it away through a rambling monologue (see 3.b).

3. I believe we have a dysfunctional working relationship.
a) I am not your daughter. I may be friends with your daughter, but I am not your daughter. This means that you cannot behave towards me as if I am your daughter. I am your employee. I expect you to behave in a professional manner, which includes according me the respect I deserve. This means that it is rude for you to disregard most things I say and refuse to take me at my word because I happen to be young. This means you must respect my wishes when I ask you not to bring up certain topics of conversation, such as your distaste for people with alternate lifestyles. This also means that you have no right to give me instruction on aspects of my private life, nor is any aspect of my non-professional life any of your business. This also means that when you want me to perform a task for you, you must ask, not command, and if I raise a reasonable objection, you cannot say that I must do what you tell me to do, and not cut off my response.
b) I find your chronic disorganization and erratic "systematic" solutions to be detrimental to my ability to carry out tasks with efficiency. You change your mind about how something is to be done nearly every day, which prevents me from attaining any form of consistency, and hampers my retention of knowledge about that task. Your instructions are often vague and contradictory, and your response to questions is rambling and unclear. I expect simple answers to simple questions, and careful and concise answers to more complicated questions.
c) I do not like you. I object strongly to your uninformed and bigoted opinions about people who have different lifestyles, religions, languages, ethnicities, and genders than you do. I find it difficult to agree with most things you say. You are not at all adept at conversation, and you tend to dominate social situations with the aforesaid opinions. The topics at hand always follow your lead, and more often than not lead back to work itself, even when the situation does not call for it. d) I can cite several situations in which you have shown extreme insensitivity to myself and my family. After meeting my mother, who is disabled, for the first time, the next day you made light of her use of canes, mentioning in a mocking tone how you saw her soldiering along with her canes. When a high school friend of mine, Genny, committed suicide last summer, I called you to book a day off for the funeral. You launched into a spiel about how insensitive it was for people to kill themselves (this was a mere two hours after I had found out), and mentioned that you thought I might come into work for the afternoon after the service. After the funeral, for which I did take the entire day off, you immediately asked me how it went, and then resumed your previous train of thought. When I asked you not to discuss it, you became offended at my abrupt behaviour (as I was fighting back tears), and behaved in an angry manner to me for the rest of the day. These are not isolated events, but there are far too many for me to illustrate, save one more: today, you had the audacity to insult me in front of my coworker for having asked for a raise (in a private meeting), and you prided yourself on refusing me. You even laughed at me.

I appreciate the opportunity you gave to me in hiring me three years ago, but I think you will agree that, with all the issues I have laid out above, I cannot continue to work with you any longer.

ketorolac kills

I always seem to write at this time of day.

I don't know whether it's the ketorolac, or the fact that I haven't been outside in three days, but I was incredibly depressed yesterday. Very sorry for myself. So I've stopped taking the ketorolac, and am using regular strength ibuprofen now. The pain's pretty bad, but no worse than the worst menstrual cramps. And I'm much more cheerful. Besides, it was making me nervous, taking something that could give me a stroke.

So what am I going to do with myself today? Take a shower, put away my laundry, which has been on the line outside since Friday . . . see Cait, eat some Zoodles. Mostly what I've been doing every day is sitting in my bed, eating every six hours, rinsing with salt every two or three, and being bored out of my shell. Today I'm looking forward to the Zoodles and Caitlin's company. The monotony will end.

Cory and a sunburnt Chel came to see me yesterday for an hour or so, which was nice. It's like having friends over to play, really.

Gar, enough, I'm typing for the sake of typing and it's making little to no prosaic sense. I quit.

two frightening things

I would have updated yesterday about my status, but I figured there were more important things to grab your attention.

That really sucks for them, and they all have my sympathy. I thanked the Powers that Be that Dave and Hen don't work in London, otherwise my little nephew Arun might be in a bit of a pickle.

And it really bites that this comes just when everything is calming down, and the DAY after they get the 2012 Olympics. Damned terrorists.

And you'll note that I simply use the term "terrorist." I'm not following the sheep here and blaming those dastardly heathens, the Muslims. I'm getting really sick these days of hearing my boss, and one of my close family friends, and his cronies, talk about how evil those dirty muslims are, and how they should all be shot.

I beg your pardon, but you're all full of shit. It's like hating the Jews because they have a different God. You know what? They had their God before the Christians stole it, took over all the honest Jewish professions, and forbade the Jews from making their living through any other means than usury, which they then condemned them for. Then the Muslims come along (same God, different name: "Yahweh" = "God" = "Allah"), their philosophy is the same, except instead of their prophet being Moses, or Jesus, it was Mohamed. Just a different dude in a different part of the world. And Islam was designed as a sort of religious evolution, where Judaism was the first, Christianity was the second, and Islam combined the best elements of the two and was supposed to be the pinnacle of sophistication and civility. And, for a while, they were. You know what ruined it for them? Those damned Christians. Not through the Crusades, as many have believed. No, that piffling skirmish barely made a dent on the vast heathen empire. It just came about through the globalization of British Imperialism, that whitewashing tool that has changed the face of the Earth.

And it sucks. I'd rant more about the ravages of the global village, but you've all heard my thoughts on religion and imperial power more than once.

If you are interested in hearing rants of a similar vent, I have recently become aware that my brother has a blog. This was a shocking thing all round. His rants lean more towards the enviroeconomic stance on imperialism, but the sentiments are the same. Sometimes he gets into symbolic history, like in his most recent post, and I'm just DYING to comment about the commodity fetish and the commercialization of symbolism, as, although I am not the sociologist or historian he says he isn't (neither of which really specifically touch on cultural symbols or differences), I am a fully-certified anthropologist.

And yet I remain silent, hesitant to contribute my two cents to the words of my older and revered brother, despite the fact that I agree with him and could elucidate. Why? Because he's older and smarter and way cooler than I am, and I don't think I could handle the backlash.

In other more relevant news, my surgery went super well. I got there at 12:30, waited around for half an hour, then got hooked up to this heart monitor, which I immediately started playing with, speeding up and slowing down the speed of my heart. It was fun, until they told me what I was doing was weird, and I should stop it. The nurse put an oxygen tube over my nose, with just oxygen blowing through. Later it would turn to gas. Then I got an IV, and the nurse told me that it was going to feel like I'd had a shooter, "and the more drugs I give you, the drunker you're going to feel." ALL RIGHT!

So she puts that in my hand, and it feels really cold going in. Like ice water poured across your skin, but UNDER your skin. And after that I started to feel a little dopey, and was still playing with the heart monitor, although the numbers were going in and out of focus. Then Dr. Amos came in for the second time (he did the proceedure), and asked me how I was feeling. I replied, "all right, a little dopey, but all right." And he said, "Okay, then, I'm going to give you A LOT more drugs." He leaned over me to adjust the amount, and I heard a few more voices, but that's the last thing I can remember. I don't remember being gassed, and I don't remember the proceedure. The stuff they put me on, intravenous ketorolac, has a mild amnesiac in it, so if you wake up, you don't remember anything.

I don't even remember being awoken from the chair and walked to the recovery room, although apparently I drunken frog-marched, which they all found incredibly entertaining. I just remember waking up very slowly at 1:45, first becoming aware that there was a lot of gauze in my mouth, then that I was lying on my side in a bed, and then that I had no idea how I'd gotten there. Then, another nurse said, "You're awake," went and got Chris, and gave us some instructions, most of which I remember, and sent us home with a prescription. Other that feeling a little woozy when I first woke up, I have been alert ever since.

And I'm fine. I was very pale all of yesterday, and I discovered that, under the usual pink, I have twice as many freckles as I thought I did. I have my colour back today, alas. Very little swelling (and I mean you can't even see it if you don't know it's there, and I think I'm developing only the faintest shadow of a bruise on my temples. I have a large blue subcutaneous bruise from the IV, and that's mostly what hurt yesterday when I came home (as did the tape I had to pull off of the bandage there). The jaw is rather sore today, and I can't open my mouth all the way. And when the medication wears off (I'm only allowed to take it every six hours), then it really hurts, and I can feel the dissolving stitches digging into my cheeks.

What most worries me is the medication. After intravenous ketorolac, you have to take oral ketorolac. And I can't take anything else with it. So far, the only side effect I've experienced is a wicked stomach ache, which is common. You have to take this stuff with lots of food, and then not lie down for 30 minutes afterwards. But the other side effects are sketchy: black stools, persistent stomach or abdominal pain, vomit that looks like coffee grounds, chest pain, one-sided weakness, sudden vision changes, or slurred speech.

So this thing can give me an ulcer, a heart attack, or a stroke.

Fun.

Actually, the only really sucky thing is that I can't open my jaw far enough to drink a gingerale, and I'm not allowed to use a straw, because the suction could induce bleeding. I'm working on the jaw thing.

Well, folks, I've written you quite the essay here. Now I'm going to go back to my room with my stereo and TV and DVD player, and stick some more recipes in my recipe book while I lie back in bed in my pyjamas. Feel free to call me/visit me. I'm around and open to conversational stimulus.

if you have something nice to say

A lady in the elevator complimented me on my outfit this morning. I guess she's like me, in that, if you have something nice to say to a person, you just say it, regardless of whether or not you know them. I don't think people get compliments enough, so I'm always sure to tell people what I think -- as long as it's a good thing.

This day is not fair. It's limping towards lunch time and I have nothing to do. Plus, I'm all flustered because I was late (having forgotten my book and having to go back home when I was a good ways away), and I'm still feeling the aftereffects of a cold from last week.

Luckily, Wayner is at Court (at least for the next fifteen minutes), so I can amuse myself in less workworthy tasks. But when he comes back it will be dicey.

It's also weird knowing that today is my last day of work for the week, and yesterday was my first. It's going to be super hard coming back next week with a sore mouth, knowing I have to work a full five days, after having two short weeks. Although I'm going camping at the end of it, so it shouldn't be that bad. A lot to look forward to.

In other news, Jon is back, returned this weekend (sorry I missed your call JB!). That's exciting. Now we all have two months to see him before he disappears again for the far side of the world. Get in your chances while you can -- it's an expensive ride over there.

Back to "work" with me (read: solitaire). Have a good weekend if you don't hear from me again.

camping is fun

I am returned.

It was GREAT. We had some annoying teenaged neighbours who were bitchy to us, and we happened to have Hwy 7 in our backyard, but other than that, the weather, the water, the set-up, and the company, were all perfect.

So we're going to Voyageur in two weeks' time. Then Fitzroy for the big camp out long weekend in August, and then to Sharbot for a quiet little Labour Day.

I'm tanned. So I'm wearing white to emphasize my tannedness. My legs are no longer pasty white. They are now a pale flesh colour. This is a marked improvement.

And I'm very sleepy alluva sudden. Was out late last night with Cara and the Pie, who roped me into risking my life at Camp Fortune tomorrow. Call Cara if you're interested.

But I really shouldn't complain. I just had five days off work. I spent them camping with the lovely Pie. Now I only have two days of work until my four-day weekend.

Speaking of that four-day weekend, I will be drugged-up and drooling. Feel free to visit, but you must bring flowers or movies or something non-edible to entertain me. Just don't expect me to entertain you. AND NO PICTURES ALLOWED. But please visit me. I will be bored and too dopey to read anything moderately stimulating. Damned wisdom teeth. Why couldn't they have emerged when I was a teenager and wouldn't miss much of life? Why do they have to wait until I'm TWENTY-FRIKKING-THREE to decide to be worthy of removal? By the by, that insertion of another word into a word, like ri-goddamn-diculous, and abso-bloody-lutely, is called TMESIS.

And now you have learned something today.

Catch you on the flip,

Out.