apeshit

So what's in the nation's most important newspapers today? (Props to Slate.)

1. The White House reverses course and decides that Condoleeza Rice can publicly testify, under oath, to the 9-11 commission after all.

2. Police in Iraq won't be able to take charge of day-to-day law and order for the forseeable future.

3. London police arrested 8 men suspected of planning a serious terrorist attack.

4. Pakistan's recent offensive against militants near the Afghan border has pushed many local tribesmen against the government.

Fairly weighty stuff, no? So what's on the front page of the Dallas Morning News today?

1. Alex Rodriguez like, totally hated being a Texas Ranger!

2. Local pharmacist refuses to refill birth control prescription. "You're going to hell, Mrs. Lacey!"

3. Husband of local woman who stoned two of her kids to death "can't understand" the slayings!

4. It's that goddamned gorilla again!

Yes, Jabari the gorilla, who briefly escaped from the Dallas zoo and went bananas (sorry) on a couple of visitors before being shot by police. Ever since this happened you can't turn on the TV during a local news broadcast without seeing a breathless, blow-by-blow account of the event in the ubiquitous "man on the street" interview, or hearing for the eightieth fucking time the first-hand account from one of the zoo visitors that Jabari went ape on (sorry, again).

The Dallas Morning News, according to a Google News search, has published 19 stories on this monkey business (make me stop!) in the last 13 days. In the aftermath of this senseless tragedy, there have been: a candlelight vigil for Jabari (I went apeshit when I heard that), letters to the editor pleading for us to look at it from Jabari's point of view, and a makeshift memorial at the zoo where people have been tying ribbons and leaving teddy bears, poems, and stick-figure crayon drawings.

Enough, already! It's only an animal. And it's a little late for all this collective guilt; if you think it's OK to keep dangerous animals in the zoo then you can't flagellate yourself when they escape and have to be put down.

Anyway, monkeys are horrible.

being my buddy

"So, were you dreading coming back to work after your vacation?" My boss asked me this question in the faux-avuncular, locker room tone he uses when he thinks he's being my buddy. I knew what he wanted, so I dissapointed him.

"No, not at all. I had a great time, but I was ready to come back."

It took him a second to change gears, and then, "Well, that's the best kind of vacation. I can remember when I used to," blah blah blah.

He's the kind of guy who, no matter what you say, has a related personal anecdote to tell you. I'm sure that Management for Dummies told him that this was a sure-fire way to relate to your employees, but I'm also sure that Management for Dummies doesn't have a chapter titled Dealing with Misanthropes.

All things considered, it was a painless first day back. Nothing exploded while I was away, and it took almost no time to get caught up on email and office politics (quick summary: someone got promoted, someone else quit under mysterious circumstances, and We Are Proud to Announce Our Latest Initiative). Best of all, I managed to retain that serene vacation glow that tells the world, "I got a lot of sleep."

elected at hailey's

Last night, X and I went to see a band called The Elected at Hailey’s, a new-ish live music venue here in the vortex. They turned out to be very good. They’re an LA-based band with a sound like Beulah got into a bar fight with Calexico, and Calexico won. Indie rock with a slide guitar. If you get a chance to see them, go.

They were opening for another band called Azure Ray, who sounded like Belly on rophynol. Very sensitive and whispery. Not bad, pretty harmonies, but dreary.

professor gore v. kwik kar kare

Whoo. It's been quite a day for vortex-related evidence. First, a little background:

About 5 years ago, United Copper Industries wanted to build a big manufacturing plant here in town. Depending on who you believed, they would bring either lots and lots of jobs, or their pollution would turn all of our children into hacking, wheezing asthmatics. (Why is it always children's health people get all worked up about, anyway? You never hear a politician say, "We need to do X for the health of our 30-somethings." Whatever.)

There was a big brou-ha-ha about it at the time, but eventually UCI got its permit and has been operating ever since. No word yet on the asthma epidemic, BTW.

So today, I went to get my oil changed. I was excited because I had finally filled up my "80th oil change is free" card and I was all ready to do my happy dance for the cashier. When I got there I noticed a very old and dirty Volvo in line in front of me driven by a classic Dentonista type. He was in his early fifties, I'd say, and wearing an outfit Al Gore might have worn during his earth-tones phase in the last presidential election. It screamed, "college professor." On the Volvo's bumper was a sticker that said, "No United Copper Industries! Keep out pollution!"

Soon they motioned his car in, and then after a few minutes more it was my turn. I went into the shop to wait and found Professor Gore in a heated argument with the cashier. It turns out that his car had just failed its inspection for the third time. Ready? Ready?!?

It couldn't pass the emissions test.

Ahhhhh. I love this town.

less bush

More evidence that Denton is a vortex: it turns out that this must be one of the most pinko zip codes in Texas. There was a story in the paper yesterday about a website called fundrace.org where you can enter your zip code and find out which presidential candidates your neighbors have been giving money to. So I entered my zip code. I was expecting to see more Bush than in the women's locker room at the hippie commune a few streets over, but boy was I surprised. Here are the totals:

John Edwards: $9500
George Bush: $2250
John Kerry: $1300
Howard Dean: $785
Dennis Kucinich: $250
Al Sharpton: $100

I'm bad at math, but isn't that a 5:1 fundraising advantage for the Dems? And this is part of the district that sent Dick Armey to Congress for centuries. Hm.

special needs

Yesterday I saw an AP story that I haven’t been able to get my head around yet. In 1997, the feds passed the “Adoption and Safe Families Act.” (Quick aside – have you noticed how bills before Congress all sound like their names have been focus-grouped to death? Let’s hear it for the Sunshine and Puppies Act of 2004!)

Under one provision of this law, according to the AP, children with “special needs” qualify for higher foster-care reimbursement and adoption bonuses from the federal government. “Special” sounds like a euphemism, as in “Special Olympics,” meaning: blindness, deafness, retardation, etc. And for all I know, those conditions are included in the definition. So far, I can see the point; if it’s harder to get people to adopt kids like this, then it makes sense to provide incentives.

But here’s the kicker: it turns out that in Texas, minority children older than 2 are also considered to have special needs. Guess what the age is for white children? 6. I guess the inference is that minority children are more difficult to place in homes. Anyway, okay. So what happens when the government subsidizes something? You get a lot more of it.

Sure enough, black children make up 31% of adoptions in Texas, even though they are only 12% of the childhood population. Similarly, the percentage of Hispanic children put into foster care has gone up every year since 1995.

Consequently, civil rights groups are up in arms, accusing the state of running a bounty system designed to take kids away from their parents to maximize federal benefits.

I have some questions to help me figure this out.

1. What were the percentages of black children being adopted, compared to their numbers in the population, before ASFA passed?
2. Did civil rights groups and minority members of Congress support or oppose different rules for kids of the same age but different races before ASFA passed?
3. Aren’t kids of any race removed from their families in cases of severe abuse or neglect? If the state is guilty as charged of placing an excessive number of minority children in foster care, what is the proposed remedy – to stop? And then be blamed for neglect?
4. What number of minority children removed from their homes would not be excessive?
5. Aside from this, are there any other affirmative action programs these civil rights groups oppose?

more cojones, please

So I hope you can excuse yesterday's post. I was in kind of a bad mood. Maybe you couldn't tell? Anyway, let's get back to happy happy bile-spewing, shall we?

The Dallas Morning News, always good for a chuckle, printed two unrelated (in their minds, I'm sure. Am I playing fast and loose with the word "minds"? Yes I think I am.) stories this morning that got me thinking about this question: when did America become such a nation of pussies?

First up: An op-ed piece by Larry Atkins, a lawyer and writer in Philadelphia. It's titled One Nation 'Under God': That phrase may make some children feel like outsiders. Leaving aside the content, please let me direct your attention to two pussy words: may and some. If you are trying to make an argument about something, don't undercut your own case by using such passive-aggressive language. What this line really says is "I'm not saying that it will make them feel like outsiders, but it might, and I'm not saying most children, or even a lot of children, but just some children." That's sniveling, and Larry should stop it.

Now to the content. The piece is basically a love letter to Michael Newdow, the atheist parent who is challenging the constitutionality of the pledge of allegiance because it contains the phrase "under God". It's full of anecdotes about how Larry grew up Jewish but was forced to sing Christmas carols in elementary school, and then later, attended a Catholic (!) university and had to endure student-led prayers at the start of some classes, all of which made him uncomfortable, or to put it another way, hurt his feelings.

I don't get this at all. I grew up thinking that being uncomfortable in school was part of life. If you're exposed to a different belief system, different religion, different morals, that might challenge you or make you uncomfortable, but if you have any balls at all, it ends up making you more certain in your own beliefs. Or, even better, maybe you realize the truth of someone else's position and you change your mind. But I don't think anyone ever got any smarter or stronger by going through life insulated from ideas and people who are not the same as you. Grow a pair.

Next up: Abercrombie shirt angers governor: West Virginia official demands that stores destroy any unsold stock. Abercrombie & Fitch, recently on my shit list for discontinuing their wonderful catalog (grrrrrow!), is selling a shirt that says "It's all relative in West Virginia", which I guess is a play on how everyone in the "Wild and Wonderful" state is inbred. (Incest is best!) So the governor, Bob Wise, sent an angry letter that said among other things, "I write to you today to demand that you immediately remove this item from your stores and your print and online catalogues. In addition, these shirts must be destroyed at once. My wife and sister Lurlene was so upset that she ruined the squirrel stew she was fixin for our young-uns." Okay, I made that last part up.

So first of all, who the hell does this guy think he is to demand that a private company can't engage in commercial satire? Demanding that they destroy their stock? I hope that A&F tells him to go fuck himself. Second of all, why is he so sensitive? Too close to the bone, perhaps? And the language he uses in his letter is pure teenaged girl in full snit: "You hurt my feelings, and if you don't take it back right this minute, I'll never speak to you again for as long as I live!!!"

I couldn't help but think about all the abuse Texas A&M has suffered all these years and how they've turned it into a point of pride. No one knows more Aggie jokes than an Aggie, and it's because they have the self confidence to not come down with the vapors if someone pokes fun at them.

And that, I think, is at the root of both of these stories. Neither of these men has the self-confidence in themselves (or their state) to let that stuff roll off their backs. Instead, they huff and puff and demand and plead and forbid and act like Tennessee fainting goats. All these years into the self esteem movement, and what do we have? A whole nation of people who can't take a joke and who can't tolerate being exposed to different opinions without seeking government redress.

I think we need a lot less self-esteem and a lot more cojones.

not interested

I grew up strange. I can remember when I was a kid, my grandmother and grandfather were iconic figures to me. My grandfather worked for Harley Davidson for years and years, and the garage of their tiny white frame house was his domain. It was where he did his work, which was mystifying to me – all I really understood was that people were always coming by bearing boxes of broken cylinders and carburetors, and it was his job to fix them. He did this in the garage, which was lit with an industrial looking bulb light that hung over the work bench. The air was always heavy and sweet with motor oil and solvent and he carried that smell with him everywhere, always.

One of his machines had a spinning rod with a bore mounted on the end of it. He would fit the bore with this steel brush that looked like one of those things you might use to clean out a drinking glass. When he flipped the toggle switch the brush would spin to life in a blur and he would carefully fit the cylinder over it, very slowly bearing down and then up, then down again. He’d stop to put on a second brush with finer bristles and do it again. Then he’d change to a third. I don’t remember how many times he’d do this, but the idea was that at the end the cylinder would be machined smooth. I remember that sometimes, when he wasn’t working, I would go into the garage and feel the bristles of these steel brushes and be amazed that something so rough could create a perfect surface.

I have to be honest. When I was a kid, I wasn’t interested in this at all. Re-reading that last paragraph, it gives the impression that I must have sat and watched him working for hours, and the process he followed was impressed on my memory. But it wasn’t like that at all. Actually he tried several times to get me interested. He often tried to get me to sit and watch and talk while he worked, and when I was a little older, to help. But I never wanted to, which I think must have disappointed him a little, and eventually he stopped trying.

I wasn’t interested in anything my father was either. From the little I remember of him before he left, he was mostly interested in drinking beer, sitting in front of the TV and occasionally going into rages. The less said about this ex-preacher, ex-cop, ex-father, the better. Although as I sit here writing with this glass of wine next to me, I have to wonder how far from the tree the apple fell.

None of this makes me special. It makes me ordinary.

rosemary's baby goes to art school

I just finished Diary by Chuck Palahniuk, who also wrote Fight Club and Lullaby. Those were both pretty good, but boy, this one was kind of awful. It's about this sad sack woman named Misty, a washed-up artist, whose husband either attempts suicide, or whose parents try to kill him. She lives in this crumbling old mansion on an island off the coast of Oregon with her mother-in-law and daughter, who either rely on the small wage she earns waitressing at the hotel, or are conspiring to trap her on the island for the sake of a prophesy that Misty's future fame as an artist will reverse their financial ruin. Then, in the face of Misty's sudden failing health, mother-in-law and daughter either present her with these organic algae pills that are supposed to help her headaches, or maybe they're surreptitiously poisoning her with lead and mercury so that all she has the strength to do is stay in the attic and paint all day.

Sheesh. It's like Rosemary's Baby Goes to Art School. Skip it.

bitch, do you want to move to the MD-80 or not?

My vacation starts today! Woo hoo! 9 days of Olympic-level apathy, coming right up. I'm so excited about all the things I have to not care about that I just peed myself a little.

Originally, the plan was that X and I were going to New York for 5 days. We had air tickets, hotel reservations and everything. Unfortunately, the airline industry got in the way. Until now, X flew 727's but they're all being gradually retired. We knew that sometime this year he would get moved to the MD-80 - just not when. Then, about two weeks ago, the company called to say "Guess What?"

X: "What?"
Company: "Your vacation is fucked!"
X: "But I have guaranteed days off."
Company: "Bitch, do you want to move to the MD-80 or not?"

So now he's away in class for 8 weeks with every other weekend off. Bleh. I was deranged at first, but I got over it; I was so ready for a vacation from work that staying here in the vortex didn't seem so bad. There are a couple of projects around the house that I want to get to, some of which will actually be fun. I can go mosey around the square; I'll probably spend a whole lazy afternoon at Recycled; I won't shave all week.

About that. I don't have much of a beard. It's blond and really light. In fact, calling it a beard is like calling a Shih-tzu a dog - technically true but misleading. I have this mental image of myself looking like the Green Arrow, but actually I will probably end up looking like one of those ridiculous 14-year olds trying to look all tough and shit.

I promise that I won't put up a beard diary like this guy.

who will cut everyone's hair?

Thank God for the Drudge Report, without which I might never have read the story about Rhea County, Tennessee. The county commissioners have voted to try to enact an ordinance banning gays from living in the county. I wonder how they'll enforce that?

Do residents have to provide documentary evidence of heterosexuality?

And if so, how will they do that without running afoul of the local obscenity ordinance?

Does the definition of gay include latency? Or just practicing mo's?

What about ex-gays?

If a genetic test could tell you if your kid might turn out to be gay in the future, would that family have to move away, or just the kid?

If someone is accused of being gay, how would the rules of evidence apply?

Are straight residents allowed to watch television shows with gay characters, or would that be subversive and subject to re-education?

If the ordinance passes, who will cut everyone's hair?

This is the same county, by the way, that holds an annual festival commemorating the 1925 trial that convicted John T. Scopes on charges of teaching evolution. No gay scientists in town, one supposes.

So here's the obvious question: take a look at the online event calendar for Rhea County, and ask yourself - why bother with this ordinance? There couldn't be any self-respecting gays within 500 miles of this shit-hole.

turtle and timmy

My guitar lessons are finally starting to take. I started about 8 months ago taking lessons at a local studio here in the vortex. My first teacher was this guy who reminded me a lot of the turtle in Finding Nemo (which by the way, I can't BELIEVE that piece of shit won the Oscar for best animated film instead of the infinitely superior Triplets of Belleville). He was trained as a jazz and blues guitarist. So anyway, Turtle was a really nice guy, and very talented - he could listen to any song I brought in and within a few minutes he not only could write out the chord progressions but play it as well as the original artist. The problem was that, well, he was too much like the turtle in Finding Nemo.

Me: "How do you play this chord?"
Turtle: "Dude! You can play it this way, or that way, or that way, whatever seems right to you."
Me: "If I can play that chord 18 different ways, how do I know what way I should play it?"
Turtle: "Whoa, man, you have to find your own way to play. I'm not in to telling students what's right and wrong. It's just music, dude."
Me: "Listen, you goddamn stoner, maybe we haven't been properly introduced. I'm not a grey area kind of guy. I don't want to know both sides of the story. I need you tell me the right fucking way to play this song."

So about a month ago, I switched to a new teacher at the studio, who I'll call Timmy. Timmy is trained as a classical guitarist. He has some of the same stoner traits as Turtle, but he's really clear about what's right and wrong, which I appreciate. He's focused, too - lessons are very structured; theory the first half and practice the second half. Every time. *Sigh.* I love Timmy.

The result has been that not only do I understand all about diminished sevenths, but I also can (sort of) play a few songs now. Rock on. Maybe soon I can quit my job in corporate hell, grow out my hair, and start abusing drugs on my path to rock stardom. Heh.

neurotics should be cute

Travis came over for dinner last night. It was great to see him, as usual. He's been so busy this semester that getting together has been harder than usual. I'd been planning making dinner for a group of friends all week, but the universe conspired against me and removed most of the folks who were supposed to come - Lisa and Tim had to go to a "breeder wedding," as Lisa called it, and Tracy had to go see her dad, who's very sick. X was supposed to be home this weekend too, but instead he had to go sit reserve in Orlando at the last minute. So it was just us two.

X called while I was in the middle of cooking. He asked what we were having and I told him - spinach and mushroom lasagna and butterscotch crème bruleé. There was a long pause on the line, and then, "Will you tell Travis something for me?"

"Sure."

"Tell him, 'Fuck you! Fuck you for eating a fabulous meal that was supposed to be for me!' "

"Honey, I was planning to do this all week! You were supposed to be here for it."

"I know. But fuck him anyway!"

Dinner turned out to be quite good. We ate like pigs and drank Roman amounts of wine. Later we watched a movie called American Splendor, which is an autobiographical story about Harvey Pekar, a cult star in comic book circles. It was alright, though a little slow to get going. Plus, the main character is a grumpy, unattractive, obsessive-compulsive asshole who shows no character growth until the last 10 minutes of the film. I'm so shallow, I know, but I like my neurotics cute.

cow + machine gun = case against bush

I'm having a really hard time deciding who I'm not voting for this year. Kerry and Bush are both appalling.

Let's start with Bush. No one should have expected his oratory to be Reaganesque or even Clintonesque, but I'm sorry to report that he fails even to rise to the level of Quaylesque. Every time I listen to him malaprop his way through another speech, my irritation level rises. His aides try really hard to keep him reading from scripts because if he tries to be extemporaneous, he goes off the rails and ends up sounding like a special effects guy at LucasArts has cut and pasted a bunch of Bush audio tracks together in the most tard way possible. He reminds me a little bit of a song from The Shins – “It’s like reading a book backwards; the farther you go, the less you understand.”

But that's like shooting cows with a machine gun. Of course he speaks badly. The deeper problem is that because he speaks badly, he often fails to rally support for his policies - even the good ones. Just one example - I don't think he can reasonably be blamed for the bad economy any more than Clinton can get all the credit for the boom on his watch. How does the president try to make that case?

"The march to war affected the people's confidence. It's hard to make investment. See, if you're a small business owner or a large business owner and you're thinking about investing, you've got to be optimistic when you invest. Except when you're marching to war, it's not a very optimistic thought, is it? In other words, it's the opposite of optimistic when you're thinking you're going to war." —Springfield, Mo., Feb. 9, 2004

This was a terrible defense to make, not just because it was badly expressed, but because it conflates in people's minds a very controversial war (that he was absolutely responsible for) with the economy (that he wasn't). So he's undercut his own case.

I agree with a lot of his policy decisions - lower taxes and aggressively prosecuting the war on terriers. But then he's done some exceptionally stupid things as well.

Item one: the Medicare bill. Just in time for the Boomers to start retiring, he's signed into law a brand-new $500 billion entitlement for the wealthiest generation. Fiscal conservative? Give me a fucking break.

Item two: The proposed guestworker program. The administration claims that it isn’t an amnesty, but illegal aliens already here would be able to apply. If so, then they are excused for breaking the law and then rewarded again with permanent residency. In a non-Orwellian universe, If X walks and quacks like a duck, then X = duck. Fuckers.

Item three: The FMA. You’re allowed to vote, and we’re happy to take your taxes, but otherwise we prefer that you stay in your place; decorating houses, cutting hair, arranging flowers and creating inauguration gowns for our wives. You are not allowed to get married and we’d prefer you didn’t raise families. It’s so upsetting to us to think about your sex lives that we are going to permanently write you out of the Constitution.

So there you have it – hard not to vote against this fool. Of course, Kerry’s no better, which I’ll take up another time.

seeking robot legs

Holy shit. Well, work is still hell. This latest project I've been assigned to has so much political baggage that I'm going to need one of these to carry the workload. This is the first time that my boss and grandboss have felt the need to call me several times a day, every day, to find out the latest news. They aren't micromanaging, exactly; they haven't asked me to change the way I'm doing things, they just needle me for information every fucking day. I'd be getting a lot more done if they would just back the hell off.

Also, fascination boy emailed me today to ask if I'd heard of the Dandy Warhols. I said, "yes, they're pretty good, why?" And he said, "oh, no reason, I just heard them for the first time and I thought they were cool, so I wanted to tell you about them in case you blah blah blah." Hm, random non sequitur much? This may require drastic action.

I'm still considering going to prom. We'll see.

adiós, arroz

Ugh, it's time to get back on Atkins. Now that winter is dwindling and I'm wearing fewer layers it's getting hard to ignore the fact that there is an unpleasant pooch in my waistline. And regardless of what they tell you, backfat never goes with a skinny halter.

The same thing happened a year ago - I'm such a cliché but I think I gained 10 or 15 pounds this Christmas, just like last year. And X has been bellyaching for awhile about his pants being too tight, so it's time. Farewell, sweet tortilla chips. So long, my little potato. Adíos, arroz. On the other hand, hellooo eggs and bacon!

For extra motivation to stick to it, try this on for size - an ex of mine has invited us to his birthday party. And because too much drama is never enough, there's a theme: 1970's prom. That's right, prom. If I accept this invitation, I'm going to have to track down a blue tuxedo with a frilly shirt or something. No idea where to look. Maybe there's a costume shop or something. So anyway, there's no getting around the fact that I'll look like shit in this stuff - I may as well not add insult to injury by pooching out of my cummerbund while I'm at it.

many thin mints

Today I told a group of Girl Scouts to fuck off.

Okay, I didn't, but I wanted to. Every time I leave my friendly neighborhood grocery store they descend on me like locusts, whining "doyouwannabuysomecookies," slightly out of synch with each other and sounding like prepubescent panhandlers. I don't think Kroger should allow them to camp out there like that. It's predatory.

On the other hand, there was recently a controversy in Waco (home of the Branch Davidians and Baylor University - enough said) regarding the Girl Scouts. The Bluebonnet Council, which is the Girl Scout's central Texas chapter, sponsored an event to educate minors about unwanted pregnancies and sex education. Everyone got all upset because Planned Parenthood co-sponsored the event. Suddenly, all the radio stations in town started calling for a boycott of Girl Scout cookies, and most of the parents of the local troop yanked their kids out of the club. Hm. Suddenly I am filled with the urge to buy many Thin Mints.

On the other other hand, I had to go to Banana Republic today to exchange a jacket that was defective, and there they were again, I swear the same girls, camped out in front of the store! WTF?! All I wanted is to swap my suede in peace, but no.

I remember when I was a kid that the Girl Scouts used to go door to door. They had to actually work for their money. Now, in addition to having to dodge a kool-aid stained 8-year old who hurtles at me outside every retail establishment I frequent, I have to run the gauntlet at work, trying desperately to avoid the same 8-year old's mother shilling carby goodness. And God help you if you say no; you'll be branded as a child-hater, which in corporate America is about as popular as a replacement worker from India.

the governor's wife, Anita Perry, declined to comment

So the governor of Texas has just had to go on TV to deny that he's gay and that his wife is divorcing him. The rumor, in case you're interested, is that he was caught in the act of playing hershey highway with the Secretary of State. Hee. The Burnt Orange Report has a good summary. This thing has been percolating out there for weeks, and eventually it got so bad that his press office decided that they had to respond.

The best part of this story is that a couple of weeks ago, a gay rights group held a demonstration outside the governor's mansion in Austin. Nothing unusual about that since our governor is a conservative Republican. But this demonstration was in support of the governor. They held up signs and chanted, "it's OK to be gay!"

Hm. Gay rumors are damaging to you partly because you're on the side of those who try to keep gays socially and legally marginalized. Irony? You decide.

On another note, I want one of these. Japan rules.

*Update* More evidence that Japan rocks.

constantinople will crumble

On Monday and Tuesday I had to fly to one of our other campuses for two days of meetings. I'm someone who loves traveling, except for business. So naturally I have to travel for business a lot, and for pleasure almost never. You know how the politics in your office suck? Well it turns out that in one of your company's other offices, they suck even more, because in addition to all the snarky backstabbing and adenoidal power plays that normally go on, you have no idea who gets along and who doesn't, so the whole thing is much more unpredictable. Also they suck more because instead of enduring the politics all day, but getting to go home at the end and sleep in your own bed, you have to go to some hotel and sleep in someone else's spooge. Yuk. (I know they change the sheets but still.)

Well, this trip was no better and no worse than most. I ended up spending time with my boss's boss (would you call that person my Grandboss? Yes, I think you would.) Grandboss likes to scare me by warning me over and over that there are a lot of politics at work surrounding this project I'm managing, and I'm better off not knowing all the details. The important thing is that I deliver. This portentous message is delivered with a completely straight face, as if Constantinople will crumble if I fail. I fucking feel like Lara Croft.

I also had lunch with my boss, who told me, "I wouldn't say you're guarded, exactly, but you are almost surgical about what you reveal." (What the fuck?! He should read this blog.) He also said that one of my co-workers (who he mentioned by name) is "fascinated" by me. So now I also feel like Greta Garbo.

Now, I'm don't think that everything is about me, or that everything has hidden meanings, but that remark pretty clearly qualifies. Poor fascination guy. If he observed my activities for a few days he would be cured.

Finally, Delta Airlines sucks ass. Twice now, on my return home, Delta has cancelled my flight and put me on another one two hours later. My coworkers tell me that flight is often cancelled. Is it legal to sell tickets for a flight that you plan to cancel? Bastards. My poor dogs were crossing their legs and hopping up and down by the time I got home.