Thursday, February 25, 2010

wandering lingering thoughts as a govt employee

this is truly stream-line ramblings after a long week of excess snow shoveling, the downfall of ethics in government, and the leftover of questions that google has no answer.

The Governor of NY (assigned to said position after elected governor resigned after indiscretions with a hooker, paid on the state's dime. several thousand dimes) had a trifecta of unethical behavior exposed, thanks to the NY Times. After a multitude of decisions made in an attempt to bankrupt NY State, financially benefit his posse & ask state workers to foot the bill, cut essential programs for NY State to run efficiently lock in his nomination for bid for an elected term as GOV, the truth came forth. Not pretty.

Albany's politics have embarrassed the state. Laughable at best, shameful & disgraceful- more accurate. Both Republicans & Democrats have proven there is no line between ethical issues, what's right for the public (those that pay their salary) and self-interest (ie- greed. AKA drunk with power)

It has me pondering what exactly is the true meaning  behind the word politics and what does it mean to people anymore. Are there individuals who go into politics and actually get elected, and keep their promises (at least 85%) to the people (by the people, for the people, so say-eth the Saturday morning cartoons that also educated us on "bill, waiting to become a law" and "conjunction junction")

Does ethics mean keep your mouth shut at all costs these days? Does it mean sticking your neck out for a co-worker who has become the scape goat for voicing the truth, and possibly resulting in losing their job?

My office (day job) has some Celebrate Woman at Work (somehow turned into an acronym of WOW, yet I'm too tired to recall. The month of March, we (women) are encouraged to submit all forms of artwork to be on display for the month, yet Men are encouraged to submit as well. How is a man's submission celebrating the work of a woman? No one asked any white folk if we'd like to participate in Black Awareness month, or any other culture/ethnicity/race. I think I missed the point on that.

Then, I read an article on how negativity ruins the workplace, followed shortly by another article from another respected division of news, saying optimism is ruining the workplace. Which begs the question in my mind- when is too much, too much? Too much Pollyanna and I'm ready to slap the ever loving shit out of someone- especially before 10am, and/or coffee. Too much negativity and I'm ready to hand over the ice pick for said negative person to perform self-lobotomy. I kvetch about the lack of manners in my office, which is truly abysmal, yet the polite elevator discussions drives me just as loony. Am I a girl with no island? Or am I simply a girl with no wine/vodka/tequila on this island?

whatever the case may be, I may despise the expression Thank God Its Friday, and relish in its naked truth.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

the apparent magnitude of my ass

That is going to be the answer I submit to my teacher on this bastard-child assigned lab that was supposed to be submitted this past Wednesday.

The lab started out easily enough. The title: The Lryae star and its Distance to the Globular Cluster M4. No problem. Start by opening a bottle of wine, because, lets face it, wine is the only way this is going to sound remotely interesting. We're all given 20 images. Click on the right side of the middle circle in each frame, the page reloads and gives a pixel number. Click on the left side of the same circle, page reloads and gives a pixel number. Take 2nd number, subtract from 1st number. This number is the "star's diameter". Record these numbers in Table 1. So far, on par with my math skills. Next, plot those numbers on a graph. So far, so good. I hadn't even finished my glass of wine!

Then, something magical happened. And by Magical, I mean- Dungeons & Dragons crippling bad for other players kind of dark magic happened. I lost the ability to comprehend English. I mean, I think the rest of the assignment was written in English, but there were all these... formulas.... and exponential notations....and fancy squiggly "f's" that I can only assume only scientists can pronounce and dogs can hear. I read something about calculating the apparent magnitude of the stars, then things went dark. When I came to, it was 4 hours later, and a drool spot had formed on my shirt. At first, I panicked. How could this have happened? Someone must've cyber-drugged me!

I did the only smart thing I could think of. I Googled. And Googled. And then Googled some more. Google must've been attacked by that D&D Magic that held my thinking brain captive, because the only results were the fucking assignment I was struggling with. Sans explanation. Sans answers. Sans ENGLISH DISGUISED AS ENGLISH LOOKING WORDS. The sickest part of this lab is Universities all over American AND Europe are using this... abomination of a scientific-frat-freak-hazing-minus-booze learning experience.

Fine. Put the lab away. I worked 12 hours straight at my day job. I must obviously be too tired to read. So, try, try again. This same repetitive logic occurred for 5 days. I pulled out all stops. I switched back to the gatorade of those in Mensa- Diet Coke. I watched a marathon of Criminal Minds. I went on facebook. I caught up on blogs (excellent reads, everyone. You all inspire me to do better, to not be so shallow and sardonic, to share interesting stories and not just...complain. But, much like my diet and exercise plan, I'll start all that tomorrow).

I broke down and emailed the Prof. He was kind enough to give me an extension to Sunday on this lab. I've sent 4 emails to this professor, explaining that he needs to stop sniffing markers I didn't understand step 6, and sadly, I haven't even gotten to questions 1-10 yet. The questions are all based on the results of calculating this stupid moronic douchewad equation, and I'm missing some very crucial data- ie- the synapses to comprehend this bullshit lab, or how to answer it. Those emails went unanswered. It now dawns on me. The Dark Magic cast upon me was directed by the man who calls himself Professor. Bastard!

It now seems I have 48 hours to learn how to use a 17 sided die, and reverse this dark magic. Its my only hope. Otherwise, I cannot be held responsible for my answers to the questions on this lab. Like when I type in "the apparent magnitude of this star is equivalent to to the apparent magnitude of my ass. Or, the absolute FAIL I'll receive when I hit the submit button.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Dove Lowers the Bar

Dove soap has a new commercial out. The words are sung to a tune I learned when I was a kid (although I know the dirty version of the song, what a surprise, & sadly, can't recall the real words)

Their version

Do your eyes sit wide
Does your nose turn to the side
Do your elbows kind of crinkle
Do your knees sort of wrinkle
Does your chest tend to freckle
Do you have a crooked smile

Do your eyes sit wide

Do your ears sort of wiggle
Does your hair make you giggle
Does your neck grow long
Do your hips sing a song

Do your ears hang low

the words Let Your Beauty Sing float on the screen at the end of the song, with a voice over saying
Dove & Walmart
find Real Beauty for Less.

Um... Is this Wal-Mart's way of acknowledging the POW website? The message I took from this:
Look, we know you have no sense of style. You've proven to us owning mirrors aren't a necessity, and *maybe* a six pack of Schlitz is more of a priority than self esteem dignity dental visits refinancing your home just to carry a Coach wallet. We're here for you *cough*ugly bastards*cough*

Now, drink the kool-aid.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

No apologies necessary

Was hoping to keep this blog on a semi rational slant, but let's face it. I was raised in a household where I was told I throw like one of Jerry's kids.

I was hoping to keep the kvetch to a minimum, to stay light, positive, but sarcasm runs too deep in my veins to prevent it from coming out. I work in the bowels of dysfunction, and I appear to be caught in the sphincter. The shit just runs out my mouth before I can prevent it. I tried repressing my snarky remarks. I genuinely have made serious attempts to stifle the cantankerous bitch that wants to hand out pennies on Halloween. I've decided to make the leap to the "Get off My Lawn" variety. I embrace you, you venomous wrath of fury that burns my skin.

To you, the 400+ pound woman who insists on getting on the elevator, after seeing we're at max capacity, insisting everyone suck in their guts to make room (or to hold our breath as we plummet to an early grave) for you, to go up one fucking floor. Maybe if you tried taking the stairs, you wouldn't be 400+ pounds, or needing to stop off to the 2nd floor to get some chips. I'm as anti-exercise as they come, but even I won't insult the people in the elevator for a local stop while I stuff my face with ho-ho's on the job.

Maybe I should.

Here's to you, douche-wads that think my job description is door man. You're right. I stand here holding these ridiculously heavy brass doors to get back to work, and yes... hold the door for just you. The 12 people who followed with you, only 3- count them THREE had the decency to say thank you. The other 9 walked by me, did not even make eye contact. There are 6 different doors to go through, you chose the one I'm holding open to get into the building. Couldn't step 2 feet to the left and hold the door for yourself? Too much of an effort? Or are you royalty and I didn't get the notice?

Here's to you, fuck stains that are right in front of me, who don't even have enough manners to hold those heavy bastard brass doors open when I'm right behind you? I deserve to have a door continually close in my face. Why not. I wasn't helpful enough when you were LEAVING?

To you, Ms. has a rolling walker 300+ 15 cigarette breaks a day with an OXYGEN TANK. Way to live up to the stereo type. With your cig dangling from your mouth, and your 50 dollars worth of scratch off tickets. That's right, a dollar and a dream. Hold your pride as you blow us all up. Or to said same woman- finds the need to grunt when she goes to the bathroom. In a public facility. Its bad enough I have to smell the dead carcass you shat, I do not need to hear your un-human noises your body morphs into just to get the carcass out. Or to see the Georgia O'Keefe you left behind. Seriously- its not a work of art. Learn to flush.

To you, Ms. Makes 100K a year Director. Take the time to get a pedicure. Nobody cares about the fact that you wear berkinstocks all year long. We do, however want to know when the last time you clipped them piggies. 1340 BC? Are you saving them to be ancient artifact coins to be on display at the archive museum? You must be too busy planning strategic development meetings about how to efficiently have a meeting to make more work for us, and fluff work for you. That must be it.

To you, Ethel Merman/Edith Bunker divorced & should be retired co-worker. With the *best* attitude anyone could ask for, I want to thank you personally for your miserably loud voice, your delightful hobby of non stop complaining from 630 am until 630 pm every day. Who needs coffee to wake up to when they have you, their little ray of sunshine.

To you, secretary who crop dusts her farts knowingly into people's cubicle. With your fake front teeth, love of Toby Keith and your lunch of Coor's lite, you were right to get angry when a supervisor scolded you in front of others for calling you hillbilly white trailer trash. Who is he to judge? Who is he to be angry that your attack on our olfactory senses isn't funny? I know you think its hilarious to watch people dry heave, especially after lunch. Its great to watch your co workers gag while you stand by cackling. You know how to tell a joke, my dear.

And here's to you, incompetent bosses.With your *hilarious* two jokes that you mutter all day like a cd stuck in rain-man mode, your jokes are just as hysterical as the first time I didn't laugh. Thank you for the opportunity to re-think that, and maybe change my mind. You are correct. It IS that funny. Although I would like to correct you, if I may. Every day ISN'T like Christmas around here, its fucking Ground Hogs Day.

Lastly, here's to you, retired, back to work part time for a social life guy. I never knew how lucky I was to have found such a wealth of information right beside me. With your knowledge, I no longer need a lawyer, a doctor, a pharmacist, a political viewpoint, a mechanic, a therapist, financial adviser, a fashion magazine, or IT support. It is silly for me to try and educate myself when all I needed to do was attend school of Ed's Ramblings regularly. What's that you say? You know the best way to pay off my student loans? Oh, please. DO TELL.

I'd like to take a moment and let you all know you have a very special place in someone's heart. With all of my being, thank you. Thank you for reminding me how 9 years ago I sold my soul for time off, and much like purgatory, the torture never ends. My local therapy group thanks you also. Happy hours start at 5:01. Meetings every M-F until 7pm. Hangover, optional.

Monday, August 31, 2009

me vs. The Man

First, let me start off by saying I fought the man today.

I can't say I was given much of a choice, and I can't say it was much of a fight, but my hormones might argue that.  I had to meet with the dean of my department to decide what my final computer programming class should be in lieu of the internship.

What started out 4 years ago as a moment of desperation has become one of the most costly decisions I have ever made. I only have myself to blame. I was working in a job that every day as I woke, I prayed that today would be the day the building would burn to the ground, I wouldn't have to go. I had a boss so holy-evil, the devil himself could finally take a vacation. A 5 year vacation. If you found yourself having unusually great luck (or even blah, not so memorable of times) rest assured it was probably because my boss held Death's stick and was not letting go. She is spiteful enough of a woman to argue with St Peter himself over the proper way to list people in his books as they walk towards the pearly gates. I promise you, a lot less souls would be in heaven if she were in charge of that, too. To have a boss that was so super micro-managing, that a co-worker had to get a doctor's note to take a cigarette break started putting things into perspective for me. If I didn't get a fire under my ass somehow, some way, I was going to rot in that cubicle under her regime. When Dilbert starts sounding profound- that is a flag. A big red flag.

In a moment of desperation, I applied to a local community college, which touts itself as having one of the top ten technology programs in the nation. What I didn't know then, was the top-ten part was top-ten transferable programs. I don't know if I'd brag about that statistic. I digress.

I have learned when people say they can get just as good of an education as they could at a private school, it's a lie. What is more insulting than a state school education? County school education. What's the icing on the county school education? The instructors. Something positive I can say about this exploration into madness was I have taught myself every language thrown my way. I have learned how to reconfigure my computer, and have become more geek-oriented than I ever imagined.

The last class I was supposed to take I would have learned the basics of 3 different types of programs. After meeting with the dean (my fight with the man), and going over what's left for my degree, its a pathetic moment. Only one class fit the bill. A class on flow charts. Mother fucking flow charts. 3 & 1/2 months of how to draw flow charts. The dean was kind enough to give me a free text book for the course, for my troubles.

I swear, I am going to have to check the degree to see it was signed by ACME.