Month: January 2006 (Page 1 of 3)

1. I have spent my morning battling with my mail-order prescription pharmacy, who amazingly, can still answer the phone despite their heads being firmly inserted up their asses. Then more time spent calling my doctor’s office, and in general fostering a white-hot rage towards our insurance provider & their lack of customer service. Fortunately, my doctor’s office shares my rage. Thank god for pharmaceutical samples, which will tide me over until this gets resolved.

2. Parmesan goldfish are excellent for breakfast. Wash them down with Diet Coke w/ Lime – Breakfast of Champions!

3. We have these status meetings every week, and every week I think about how yet again, I’ve forgotten to bring an ice pick. You know, to stab myself in the face. I don’t care for status too much.

4. I was not surprised to learn Jack Bauer has a disciplined method for gouging out eyeballs. He starts with the right, then moves to the left. Jack Bauer is not to be trifled with. Perhaps he could stop by my prescription company on my behalf?

5. Speaking of Jack Bauer, his love, Audrey, has the best glasses & jewelry, ever. Fox needs to tell me if I can afford to replicate her style or not. I want a source! And I’m not afraid to gouge out eyeballs to get it!

6. Right now, you are glad you are not having my day.

7. But I still love my job.

8. And life, overall, is pretty good. Despite my desire to overturn tables in a restaurant. That’s tomorrow’s blog.

There are a lot of times in my life when I look to movies & whatnot for reference, reminders, inspiration & laughter. There was a time when I lived in St. Louis, and had been completely fucked over by my boss (you know, the one who drank, cried in her office & played Free Cell instead of working? Yeah! That one!) My extremely wise aunt was getting tired of listening to me bemoan my fate. So she pulled out the big guns. The baddest-ass movie about work you could ever imagine.

The Godfather.

“Jennifer! You need to be more like the Godfather. You need to remember as Don Corleone said, ‘It’s only business.’ You are taking it all way too personally.”

Moi? I fucking wrote the book on taking things personally. Masterpiece, really.
But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Hell, if Michael Corleone could rig up and “go fishing” with his brother Fredo, and we all know how that turned out for Fredo, then I sure could stop taking every slight on the chin. Well, that’s all grand in theory. I still take things personally, but I’ve gotten smarter. It still bruises, some of these pitfalls & things that happen in the daily grind. People are volatile, hard to deal with, and in any workplace, there’s always a buffoon idiot, a passive-aggressive freak, and a blind follower, no matter the business or industry. Accounts are won, accounts are lost. The thrill of the chase, the sadness of defeat. It’s the natural ocean of the agency world, and no matter how many years you sail it, there are still times you get salt water up your nose.

Better than going fishing with Michael Corleone, anyway…

I stood outside on the screened-in porch and felt the unseasonable warm air gust around me. I thought of all the women who had gone before me, who had done the same things we were doing tonight. My friend’s mother had died. We came together to clean our friend’s home, because the inevitable parade of visitors had already begun that night, when I arrived. She had spent the last two weeks in the hospital by her bedside, so she asked for that help, despite how clean it really was. The direct link between death & food was already apparent, as her refrigerator was overflowing. I laughed at myself, because I had also brought an assortment of chips, cookies, crackers, chocolate, juice boxes. My girlfriends brought food, flowers, and buckets of cleaning supplies.

For two hours we scrubbed & swept & vacuumed. Intermittently, one of us would stop and talk to our friend as she moved among us, hug her, listen, and look into her eyes, reminded that someday, this will be ourselves. Her daughter, still so young, was delighted by the company. She rocketed among us, talking, laughing & giving us orders. I picked her up and squeezed her and told her in a year, she was going to be taller than me, and that pretty soon, I was going to get shorter, and she’d be even taller. She informed me I was going to teach her to knit a poodle, that night. (I finessed my way out of that one.)

I thought of my great-grandmother, Hattie, as I took a break on that porch last night, and how she was born before she had the right to vote, how her life was filled with hard labor as a farmer’s wife, how she never saw the internet, wouldn’t know what to make of an iPod. And how she probably did this exact same thing for her friends in her own lifetime, coming together, quiet strength and ordinary work – showing love in the face of great sadness.

I am having the craziest, up-down, nutty day. INSANE. First of all, the work, it is like seven softball pitching machines lined up & have a never-ending supply of balls & are pelting me as I race back and forth.

Second, Kristin tried to bring our waiter home from lunch today. Yes, he was very cute. But the rest of just ADMIRED him. Kristin? Asked him if he’d like to come home with us. It’s why I love her.

Third, it’s as if we’re all doing stand-up today. My boss Jim, Kristin, me, the new girl – she knows a lot about stripclubs – it’s just hilarious and exhausting and then hilarious all over again. We had lunch with one of the funniest people I know, my rep Joe, and I adore him. He does the best gay Cuban voice ever.

I won $50 this morning, because Max (of Max, Tanna & Moffett, the morning show on KYYS), called me at work yesterday & said they’d be saying my name on the radio & I should listen, and then call in. Well, duh, you don’t have to tell me twice. I’ve got a price. He even told me the time they’d be doing it. SWEET! Unfortunately, as I am wont to do, I was rather unaware of him and his fame and Kansas City Icon Status. So I just shot him shit the entire time on the phone: “Hi Jennifer, how are you?” “STRANGE, MAX. I am feeling STRANGE today!” because I get tired of the same ordinary conversations, so I was mixin’ it up. He was not quite sure what to make of me, and probably a little weary of being whored out to call media directors & buyers in the city to buy their love & listenership, if only for an hour. Whatever. Fifty Dolla make me holla. And, I made him laugh.

So the insanity continues: I have to work this weekend; one of my good friend’s mother passed away last night – I’m so sad for her, I had to get it together at my desk, because she’s also an only child & I suddenly saw her kindergarten-age daughter & my heart ached for her; I’m having fun at my job; we’re getting things done, we’re torturing people (legally) — it’s like getting the good, the bad, the highs, the lows, the extreme hilarity, the extreme sadness – all in an encapsulated, concentrated timeframe. But I tell you what. When life gives you a lemon? BITE IT. Just bite it. Throw in a sugar cube. Add 151 rum & a shot of vodka & you hit all the softballs out of the park.

Right now, I feel extremely alive. And as though I could begin to start speaking in tongues – any minute.

So, I am having sudden, intense cravings. NO. Stop right there. I am not pregnant. I can’t imagine what that would be like, given how strong my cravings have been. I would end up on the 10 o’clock news, feature story, on how I terrorized a Sheridan’s custard stand because they didn’t have the right ingredients on-hand, and the video they’d show would be me with some poor teenager in a headlock, screaming “GIVE ME THE GODDAMN HOT FUDGE NOW!) I can’t even punctuate properly, I’m that discombobulated.

Seriously, though, I had the most peculiar one, right after a sip of coffee the other morning. Like a bolt of lightning. I just instantly desired a hotdog, the way my mom made them when I was in 2nd grade. Sliced almost in half, put under the broiler, cooked until brown, a slice of cheese put over the dog & popped back into the oven until melty. Sometimes we’d put sauerkraut on ’em – but you always dunked these into ketchup – no ketchup applied directly. Crazy! Because I didn’t start drinking coffee ’til 10th grade, so there’s no direct hotdog-coffee connection that I’m aware of!

And I’m also on a tear for Sonic’s Sweetheart Shake or Blast or whatever the F it is, all I know is that they have it around Valentine’s Day, and HELLO, that’s like less than three WEEKS AWAY, and it has hot fudge & cherries in it. And they DON’T GODDAMN HAVE IT yet. Fuckers. They are OUT to destroy me. Again.

Because I fancy myself something of a wheedler, I attempted to get one at Sonic yesterday, anyway. OH, yes I did. Only I asked for strawberries, because I knew I’d increase my odds of success. (Insert loud blasting buzzing noise to indicate lack of success HERE!) Well, I guess it AIN’T MY WAY however I like it when I want it and you don’t have it!

And if it’s not obvious by now, I’m really not being charitable to my sales reps this week. Unless one of them shows up with this shake thing I want. Then? PUTTY.

We went to see Cake last night at the Uptown – I am so friggin’ tired today – we didn’t get to bed until close to 1 a.m. – what is up with concerts having to be so late? And with that I officially prove I’m Old.

But we parked in the Family Dollar parking lot, which seemed like an amazing coup, but as we were walking away, I looked back and saw an “unauthorized vehicles will be towed, blah blah blah” sign. JWo wasn’t worried, so we headed in & caught quite possibly one of the strangest blends of music being performed by Gogol Bordello: Gypsy Punk. In all seriousness, they were kinda cool, if bizarre. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the tow truck that was driving around, smiling evily, circling closer & closer to LaFonda the Honda. JWo offered to move it, and I said no. But I couldn’t stop the fretting. Finally, I decided to go ask about Towing Potential & took the keys, just in case. Keep in mind there’s no re-entry for concerts, so the notion of moving the car could also carry with it the sentence of missing the band!

So, here’s how you swing it. You find a cop, preferably by the door, and wait patiently until he looks at you. I would not recommend going for his gun, or anything else on that belt. (Have you ever noticed just how much stuff they have on their belts? Jesus, if I had to grab something off that belt I’d be all, “Hey, hang on, ok, whups, I think it’s over one past the mace, I know it, hang on, hang on!”) Then, you put on your anxious face. And you ask the cop if they tow from the Family Dollar parking lot. When he nods and says, “Yep, I think so,” you want to look stricken. PANICKED. Then, do you hear the bus, JWo? You throw your husband under it. “Oh my gosh. My husband parked the car there and I am freaking out. Can I go move it? Can I get back in?” And then the cop will get the bouncers/ticket takers to look at you & memorize your face & he will tell them to let you back in because you are going to move your car from Family Dollar.

Worked for me! And then I deftly parallel-parked it in the smallest space ever, further inflating my ego & sense of accomplishment. And I was able to enjoy the concert without wondering if LaFonda had been hauled off to some impound lot and how in hell would we get home and get LaFonda and how much it would cost!

More about the concert later – the one-line review is: if you like Cake, damn, they are worth seeing. They’re one of those bands that’s actually better live.

Me: “What’s with all this crazy stuff we’re not watching? Dancing with the Stars? Skating with Celebrities? It’s crazy! What’s next?”

JWo: “TETHERBALL with the Stars.”

Me: “Dude, that would totally rock!”

JWo: “ROPE!”
:Motioning of pounding the ball around the pole:

Me: “I always got hit in the face when I played tether ball. Bein’ short and all. It sucked.”

JWo totally deserves an intellectual property fee if FOX picks up the idea.

Sales Rep calls. “Hello. BLAH BLAH BLAH Would you like to also buy an Olympic package?”

“No.”

“OK. Well, I can’t believe I did this, but I can’t find the rates I submitted to you for this last buy? Would you find them & fax them back to me so I can input your order you sent?”

-Hair begins to stand on end.-

“What?”

“I mean, I can’t believe I gave you Fear Factor at that rate.”

“Is it going to clear?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t input it yet. I just can’t find the rates I sent you. So could you send them back to me?”

“Let me get this straight: you can’t find your rates, so I need to look for them, so you can CHECK MY WORK? And you don’t even know yet if it will CLEAR?”

“Well….I mean, I just don’t know about the rate on that Fear Factor.”

“Listen. If the spot clears, it clears. If it kicks out, then I’ll move the money to another station. How’s that?”

“Well….”

“Because looking for your rates & sending them back to you so you can see if my rates are going to work before you even enter the order is not going to be a top priority for me today.”

Big pause.

“Yeah. Nevermind doing that.”

HARRUMPH! I am NOT one of those old-school bitchy buyers. I am laid-back, friendly, and generally speaking, not a hard-ass when it comes to working with reps. And if you’re not in this business, the above conversation might sound harsh – but seriously, don’t call me until you’ve input the order & things are getting kicked back out. Call with solutions. You make commission – I don’t!

I’ve had my angry eyes at the ready all weekend & apparently, they’re locked in and loaded for bear. As JWo said this morning, “You need to go eat something so your angry eyes come off.”

HARRUMPH! I need a cheeseburger.

I almost always straight-away delete my spam. Most people do. I used to get apoplectic with the number of requests to help the Nigerian Royalty get their multi-million dollar bank accounts out of Switzerland, but blessedly, I’m off their lists after the job change.

This morning, in my Bulk folder, I see something from Sherri Merino. Perhaps she is a sheep! But the subject line was priceless: “My Friend, You Are In Trouble.”

I am? How did you know? My goodness! I wasn’t even aware I was in trouble. Turns out, Sherri’s got a line on a whole lot of licensed software at rock-bottom prices. How dare she bait and switch me like that. I thought she knew me. I thought she was my friend.

In a completely unrelated observation, big birthday wishes are shouted out today to Miss Kristin and my dad. Two very special people to me! May the next year be filled with happiness, good health, and joy….

One of my great sources of entertainment is to go through all the available ring tones for my phone on the T-Mobile website & torture James with the threat of them. (“Lonely? I’m Mister Lonely” in a chipmunk vibrato, courtesy of Akon.) Some of them, he does like, and some that he likes, I hate. I like having a fun ringtone, mostly because the ones that came with my phone are crap, and besides, JWo calls me every day when he’s headed home, so I need something GOOD, and preferably non-torturous for the people who sit nearby.

Some ringtones make us both cackle, and it’s incredibly cheap fun. After all, I buy a new ringtone like, uh, four times a year. My delight is in finding some of the classic songs that not only make me happy but are a completely geeky throwback. For instance, tonight? I happened upon “Caribbean Queen”, by Billy Ocean, and I did a very involved, seated, chair dance to it. And that’s when JWo said I danced like Ellen.

I’ll take it. I’m not taking on Madonna for Dance Dance Gyratelution in a leotard: I don’t need to. But I did download “Dance Dance” by Fall Out Boy, so I can feel the frenetic love & excitement every day when school’s out.