Pretending Along

Just a Thought

In case my head does explode sending chunks of brain matter and skull all over my computer screen and the rest of my office, I'd like to say to all those friends and coworkers who poo-poohed my assertion that my headache was a "volatile increase in pressurization of the contents of my head, that could lead to death through a violent cranial explosion,"

I told you so, bitches!!!

You may now continue working or leisurely browsing the internet. Thank you.

Best 'Dear Abbey' Ever

Today's "Dear Abbey":

DEAR ABBY: This year my in-laws sent me a peek-a-boo nightie with thong panties for my birthday. I've met them only once. I am shocked that they sent a gift like this to me. They have never sent me a birthday gift before (and I am not complaining). But I do not wear thong underwear.

Obviously, I will thank them for thinking of me. But how? And how can I tactfully suggest that they not send me something like this in the future? -- SHOCKED IN NORTH CAROLINA

DEAR SHOCKED: Try this: "Dear Folks, thank you for remembering me on my birthday. I admit I didn't expect to be thought of in quite that way by my husband's parents! With love, your blushing daughter-in-law."

--Nuff said

A Link

How do you get your exercise in our fair city when you're not a member of a gym, you work too late to run in the evenings, it's damn chilly, and you can't afford to go skiing? The answer, quite simply:

Go Curling.

Check out DCSOB for a brief story about my adventures in Canadian/Scottish winter sports.

I’m not going to use this post to bitch about my job. I’m not going to use this post to bitch about my job. I’m not going to use this post to bitch about my job. I’m not going to use this post to bitch about my job…

Damn stupid #&$%#* job!!

Are any of you awake out there? Are you? Well WAKE UP because I need to complain and whine and bitch and moan like a child. I feel like Ben Stiller in “Meet the Parents” when he’s freaking out on the stewardess:

“So maybe if you took those chopsticks out of your hair and cleaned your ears out, and then maybe you could see that I am a person, and all I wanna do is do what I wanna do, and what I wanna do is not listen to you”

Except in my case I’d replace “not listen to you” with “not be here.” But in actuality, this situation is of my own design. I have a penchant for working too much. It’s my fault. I’ve come to think of it as a sort of masochistic defense mechanism. Think about it; try working ten to twelve hour days or longer for an extended period of time. (I don’t work this much all the time, but right now it seems like I do.) Your mind becomes embroiled in work and all its associated stress, issues, problems, and challenges. Personal problems, general dissatisfaction with one’s life, desires for self-improvement are marginalized; they cease to exist, vanishing into the ether. I used to get the same feeling from being on stage or playing squash or racquetball or writing. The difference is that those activities are all constructive and enjoyable. I still get the sensation from reading, but that involves a withdrawal from the world, not very interactive. This work thing can almost takes you completely outside of yourself while reteining interaction with the world.

That is until you’re hopelessly struggling with simple word choice in a document, or when briefly skimming over a weather forecast calling for snow you realize how happy you’d be to wake up on Saturday and see a couple of inches on the ground. A word choice problem or forecast brings along little, stupid, brief moments of clarity which bring the whole thing crashing down. It becomes so obvious that it’s almost funny.

Almost.

But not really. Because then you’ve got all that work shit, and you realize that you’re only working so hard at it to displace the other personal shit, an action which is, in-and-of-itself another layer of personal shit. So now you’ve got work shit and personal shit, which is increased by the conscious realization of the whole shit displacement ecosystem. And you begin to wonder when you started ignoring yourself, and what exactly it was about those things you used to do that you enjoyed so much and would you still like them now, and is this an addiction (because from what I know about alcoholism and drug addiction there seem to be parallels in terms of displacing issues and retreating from your life), and why haven’t I written all my Christmas thank-you notes yet-- have I really been too busy, and why haven’t I spoken to my sister in weeks am I a bad person-- am I turning into my father, and am I missing out something by being like this, and if I am missing out who am I kidding, because I’m too cautious or scared to actively participate, and what the hell am I going to do when this project is over and I have to take that week off that I’m supposed to be eagerly anticipating, and what the FUCK am I still doing here?!

And just then, it comes to you. No not the answers to any of those questions. You realize that you can use the word “segregation” instead of “separation” and you won’t be repeating yourself. The anxiety-train stops and you calmly get off, a rational, sane individual who’s been a bit busy with work lately. And you remain that way until a similar night a week or so later when the process can repeat.

Don't get the wrong idea from this post, I don't hate my job; I don't even generally dislike it. And I'm not cracking up. But it's bedtime now, I'll probably remove this post in the morning.

--Nite Folks

Corporate Whore

Something is rotten in the state of Pretending Along.

And what is that something? I have been a slave to XXX corporation for the past eight days (OK I've been a slave to XXX for a while, over for the past 8 days my pathetic ass worked around 90 hours). Did ya miss me? 'Cause I missed you, really I did. I've missed my outlet, my stress vent, my opinion forum. I've missed the 8 people who read this site daily (Ok I talk or email with those 8 people frequently)

Life has been a bit rough over the couple of weeks, but I'm hanging in there. Don't worry about me (not like you do, you cold heartless bastars).

Since I've been off the planet for the past week, I'm going to offer a wrap up of the things I'd have blogged about recelty.

-Check this girl out. She's a London call girl (shout out to NM) and a hell of a writer.

-I recently read that Northwest airlines has admitted to sharing confidential passenger data with the federal government, despite denying that they had shared the information in the past. Forgive me, call me a conspiracy theorist, but when there is a federal government bailout of the airline industry and then the airline industry gives the govt confidential info, I smell a rat.

--Check out this article from the American Conservative about "Free Speech Zones." This deals with the removal of anti-Bush protesters from areas surrounding Bush appearances.

Just a note, this post was written watching/listening to the State of the Union and playing the accompanying drinking game.

Score One for the Meteorologists

In a stunning feat of scientific prescience, Washington area meteorologists have again distinguished themselves as the preeminent purveyors of precipitation predictions. Correctly foreseeing that the DC metro area would receive anywhere from 1 to 6 inches of snow last night into this morning, these weather scientists saved the metro residents from another disastrous commute. Thanks to the diligent work of these dexterous Doppler deans, the DC Department of Transportation was able to mobilize, evaporate the Mediterranean Sea, and dump the 80 million tons of salt that remained on the streets in my neighborhood.

To meteorologists everywhere I offer you my thanks and would like to present you with this, Pretending Along’s first ever, “[Not At All Sarcastic] Person(s) of the Week Award”

And now… back to work.

Fuck corporate America.

Welcome Back Joe

I posted this on DCSOB, but I'm so excited I wanted to put it here as well

DC is an interesting sports town. The state of our sports has been awful for a number of years:

We don't have baseball (fuck the Orioles). The Caps and Bullets (Wizards--who the hell cares) have been miserable for years. DC United was great for three years till they broke up the team (and who really watches pro soccer other than high school soccer players and folks from soccer-playing nations--and me). I think we had women's soccer here for a while... Come to think of it, do we still have women's basketball?

But there's something special about our pro football team, the Redskins. Sure, they've got an insulting name, the owner with the Napoleon complex has thrown millions at the team with zero results, they charge the fans exorbitant fees for everything, and they discard coaches like Bush discards allies-- but DC holds an interesting loyalty to the 'Skins.

If, on a given Sunday night, the Redskins beat the Dallas Cowboys and the city of Los Angeles was destroyed by a nuclear blast, the local news outlets would have a tough time deciding which story to lead with on Monday morning.

Skins fans have a bizarre optimism when it comes to their team. Third round draft pick back-up QB throws three TDs against a 1-7 team with no secondary? He's the future of the franchise, the next Montana. Mid way through the season at 2-6? We can win out finish 10-6 and win the division. Finish the season 6-10? Most of the losses were close games, we'll win the division next year. Unproven college coach coming to the team at a ridiculously high salary? He's the next freakin Lombardi.

But for all of the disappointments over the past dozen years Redskins fans have kept one hope close to their hearts: that this might happen.

Where Did the Time Go?

It's ten o'clock, in the pm, where did the time go? I was at work, I left, got a haircut, came home, and now it is ten. What the hell is that about? How is a person supposed to live like this, there isn't time to do anything other than work. I haven't even eaten dinner yet.

Astute readers might notice that I'm writing this at 10 and yet am not at work. Well, that's because this weekend I purchased a computer. That's right, I've entered the 21st century. I got a Toshiba Satellite A35-S1593 Notebook, and it's got more than I could ever hope to use in a computer. Mobile computing, here I come. Woo hoo.

Now I can finally join the ranks of those people I see at Tryst and other coffee shops, surfing the internet wirelessly, working on their screenplay or novel. Damn I hated those people, but not anymore, I'm one of them now. I can also finally work from home, which is what I must do now. Nite folks.