A Tenuous Equilibrium, The Way of Mercy, and Screwed Again


I shouldn’t be so nice.

Nor should I confuse “nice” with “moral” or “Christian.”

But sometimes I do.

I had three days of much desperately needed vacation (sanity!!!) time scheduled.  So with my luck, according to Murphy’s Law, one of my co-workers had to leave and will be out the rest of the week because his Dad died. There went my Brickleberry DVR marathon and road trip to points TBA.


I could literally watch these episodes all day. And I was going to.


Granted, death sucks, and realistically, you can’t expect someone to care about work in that situation, but mustering up sympathy is pretty hard for me when I’m stuck covering for this same guy through his kid’s endless sports events and various other frequent bullshit call-offs. It’s like crying wolf.

This is how I feel about this guy:
Now you have a valid reason to be gone, but you blew both your vacation time and my patience a long time ago. Save the calling off and pawning off your work on me for real emergencies – and maybe I’d be more understanding when you have an actual crisis.  Your kid’s ball games and your conflicts with Time Warner and your cable boxes, and whatever other stupid shit you come up with to get out of work shouldn’t be my problem.  Then again, I am not the boss.  If I were, there would be no calling off for bullshit- if you wish to remain employed.  It’s simply not fair to everyone else.


Technically, I could have went ahead and taken my vacation- but it would have put other people in a bad spot as well as giving me a first class ticket on the guilt train.

But there is a bright side. If I’d decided to go ahead and take my vacation time, I’d have been trying to escape from Jerry and his endless to-do lists, and pain in the ass micromanagement- all while feeling miserable that other people have to do what I should be doing anyway.  Even so, I’m screwed again.

It’s almost sort of sad when one is better off just staying at work.  Then again, it beats running Jerry’s errands.  I’ve not forgotten the 20 mile (one way) road trip to score him KFC in the middle of the night whilst in the middle of nowhere, WV.  If only I could just get paid for it, but not actually take vacation time, that would be moderately OK with me.  Unless of course, I can take an actual solitary vacation, which I don’t see happening.

I know, forgive and forget, and know that I’d have been strongarmed into forgoing any attempts at rest and solitude anyway, and it was better to volunteer for the inevitable.  It either makes me look “nice” or just affirms that I’d rather avoid conflict than stand my ground.  Either way, the outcome would have been the same.

Torrential Rain, Self Evaluations, and Other Unpleasantries

I like self-evaluations about as much as a one legged man likes being invited to an ass kicking contest.  Usually our esteemed fearless leader forgets about the yearly evaluations that are supposed to occur in June (fine with me) until the last minute and then he hastily goes over the paperwork and signs off on it.  I like it when he puts as much thought into our performance evaluations as I do into football season.  I am not a terribly big fan of the scrutiny of others, especially if they are going to compare their scrutiny of my performance alongside my own.

This year by some stroke of bad luck he actually remembered evaluation time in May which is unprecedented.  So we have all had plenty of time to peruse the self-evaluation portion of this yearly torture, and he will have plenty of time to grill us all to see how closely our version of our performance evaluation lines up with his.

I don’t know where to land.  On one side it’s not good to come across as a braggart tooting on your own horn, but on the other it’s not good to be so self depreciating that it’s the intellectual equivalent of donning a hair shirt.  I may not be the greatest thing since Steve Perry in Spandex, but I am good at what I do, even when people get on my nerves.

The happy little form we have to use sucks, too.   I would prefer a modern, on-line form because my writing has devolved into an almost shorthand scribble type script, and I am pretty much the only one who can read it.  It didn’t used to be that way, but I can type three times faster than I can scribble.  Efficiency, you know?  The other benefit of typing is that it’s harder to see the frustration and angst in typewritten fonts than what is angrily reflected in my scrawling.

Oh, to find a happy medium on that one!

I never knew Michael Jackson owned a Honda dealership in Wisconsin.  WTF was Michael doing in Wisconsin, where it’s cold and there’s nothing but snow and cheese and the Green Bay Packers- where Liz Taylor wouldn’t have been caught dead (even before she really was dead)?  Dude sure got around.  I saw this unfortunate Honda CRV on Morse Rd. the other day and just had to get a pic of it. I should have gotten a pic of the dead deer right next to the Stabbing and/or Shooting Weekly UDF & Mobil Station  on the corner of Morse and Sunbury Rd.s too, and the abandoned clothes and shoes in the turn lane across from the Goo-Goo Car Wash.

I can’t believe some of the names I’ve seen plastered all over dealerships.  Some of them sound like social diseases rather than places you would want to plunk down thousands of dollars to buy a new car.  If my last name were Fagnilli or Butts, or some other double-entendre type sounding moniker, I certainly wouldn’t advertise it, let alone use it to promote my business!

I know May is still Monsoon Season here in Central Ohio but come on!  It’s supposed to rain all freaking week again which sucks, especially if you’re a large dog who wants to go outside.

The illustrious Miss Sheena will almost inevitably be in for another surgery which also sucks.  I found another small mammary growth that I’m having the Vet check out Saturday.  I know what her answer is going to be.   The growth will have to be removed and biopsied at the very least.  My personal preference- if I am given one- is since she has had mammary growths before it would probably be more prudent to remove the mammary chains and associated lymph nodes as a precaution and also to avoid future surgery.  My fear is if the growth is removed and biopsied and if it is something serious, then the mammary chains and nodes will still have to be removed later, requiring a second surgery and another episode of anesthetic.  I will have to trust the Vet’s judgment, but if I am given the choice, my gut feeling is to do the radical surgery now, get it over with, and only put her under anesthetic once.  Large dogs have a higher risk of anesthetic complications, and mammary cancer is very common in dogs, especially ones like Sheena who had several litters of pups and were spayed after two years of age.

The SOS clinic said she did well with anesthetic for the spay and partial mastectomy surgery back in December, which is good- and our Vet had no problems with Clara and anesthetic, which is amazing given that Malinois are notorious for being difficult under anesthetics.  I am still nervous about it though.

Poor Steve-o.  In a way, maybe.  He freaks out so easy over the weirdest stuff.  Today he calls me freaking out over $10  because he thought Mom wrote him a check for $35 instead of $25 (her writing is painful to read too) which I thought was a major crisis- until I discovered he hadn’t bounced any checks or anything really sucky like that.  It’s still a good day if your bank balance is positive, but he’s not old enough to have the life experience to know that yet.  My son has lived a sheltered life indeed.  The POMC strikes again.

So Saturday is not going to be much fun- shlepping Sheena to the Vet and inevitably making her surgery appointment, getting the sticker for Steve-o’s rail buggy (more money down the drain) so he can have his summer fun.   It makes me almost wish I could get drunk.