The New England Society for Tea Fetishism

The daily grind makes the days go by too fast. Up at five, home at five-thirty, pass out by nine - it's pretty freakin' monotonous (but leaps and bounds better than being unemployed). I'm lucky I get to work with fun people who don't take themselves or the job too seriously. Not that we're tossing files willy-nilly and hiding appointments from patients (although some of the more prickly patients seem to think this is how we run things), but it's nice to be able to joke around in between providing people with fantastic customer service. Or during. Some people appreciate a little levity. Others want to melt your face off with lazers out their eyeballs. Que sera sera.

Another thing I really like about this job: the commute. One would think that a half-hour on the subway and a half-hour on the commuter rail twice a day would be a pain in the ass. One would be correct, but only some of the time. Taking the bus every day on Long Island really desensitized me against the horrors (mostly smells) of public transportation. What I like is that I get to read. I'm going through books so fast I'm re-reading books I already own in between trips to the store. I should probably start going to the library again. I just picked up the new Michael Chabon and I'm really looking forward to starting it.

Pitfalls of the job - lots of places to eat nearby. Starbucks, Boloco, a galleria, several hospitals with good cafeterias, all within walking distance. I try to be good and eat out only once a week, but I'm in love with the Summer Burrito at Boloco. We're getting married next spring. To avoid Starbucks I'm considering buying a stovetop capuccino maker. It's sixty dollars at Bed Bath and Beyond. I'm sure that it will pay for itself in no time, but I have a hard time parting with that much money for an item that performs one very specific task (any Good Eats viewers out there? You know what I'm talking about). Still, maybe the fact that I dreamed about it tells me I should suck it up and buy the damned thing.

Which brings me to pitfall the second: I have money now - more money than I've had in a long time. So far it's mainly been clothes, which I need. I could get away with jeans and a t-shirt at Marders, but not in a doctors' office. But yesterday I was looking for mugs in Pier 1 (When did their mugs get so god-awful ugly? They're all exactly the same - oversized and misshapen, just in different colors.) and I saw a tea set on sale for sixteen dollars. An adorable set with a black and white floral pattern. And I bought it. You know, if I'm going to pay sixteen dollars for a tea set that I'll most likely never use, I might as well buy the capuccino maker for sixty that will get used every day.

Labels: Shopping, Workin' for a livin'

It makes you feel drunk for about five minutes afterward, which might sound like a good thing, but not at 8:30 in the morning after you just ate a bran muffin. (I was rooting around in my bag for my wallet, if you must know)

Well, I'm still at Old Mutual. I did three days last week and it looks like I'll be here until next week. Meg just called and said the hospital job wanted someone with more experience, which is fine because it sounded like a lot of stuff to handle and I really just wanted to apply to get the interview experience. She's going to try and get me an interview for an executive assistant position in a small venture capital company in downtown Boston. She says there's a lot of money in venture capital and the offices at these places are usually really nice. Staying here wouldn't be a problem - the people are really nice and the view is fucking fantastic - but I really want something a little more challenging that doesn't have me chained to a desk all day.

I had the worst meal I have ever had in a restaurant last Friday. It even tops the nasty scallops I had at Bocaccini in Hampton Bays. I went to the Edgewater Cafe with my mom and Brian. It's a few doors down from A Passage to India (I love that place - we should have gone there instead). Underneath the Edgewater Cafe it says "Authentic Mexican Cuisine." Which makes it even more confusing because not only was the meal the worst I've ever been served, it's also the worst Chinese food I've ever had. Let me explain: Mom and Brian's food was okay. "It's not bad, it's just okay," Brian said a few times. I ordered the vegetable fajitas. I thought, "Fajitas: sizzling platters of peppers and onions and, in this case, probably some mushrooms." What I got was a huge plate of broccoli, chunks of green pepper, and limp onions all smothered to within an inch of their lives in some watery brown sauce (here I will mention that there was not one square millimeter left on the plate for fajita construction). I had a few bites and quit. It was so salty it was making my stomach burn. My mom took a bite and made a positive identification. Soy sauce. All over my "Authentic Mexican" fajitas. I should have refused to pay because, seriously, any head chef who would serve that plate of nastiness in his restaurant has no respect for his customers. But I just wanted to leave because we'd gone right after work and was tired, so when I got home I posted a bad review on Yahoo!. It just completely boggles my mind that someone came up with that dish and decided it was fit for human consumption. It wasn't just bad Chinese food, it was like bad homemade Chinese food. In a Mexican restaurant! I swear, this will haunt me until the day I die.

Labels: I Like Food, Workin' for a livin'

I'm temping in Boston! Meg from my staffing agency called and said that a company needed an emergency temp on the 26th and the 29th, and I just spent too much money on Christmas presents, so I said sure, I like money, count me in. I'm on the 53rd floor of the John Hancock building in Copley Square, answering phones and doing misc. busy work for an investment firm. It's mind-numbingly slow right now, but I can deal with it for two days. I'm just happy to be working. Hell, their receptionist is leaving on the 28th. Maybe I can wrangle a job out of this. The view is fantastic. If I looked hard enough (and had a pair of binoculars) I bet I could literally see my house from here. I was going to bring a camera today to take a picture of it, but I forgot it. However, since the top of the building is shrowded in fog, it's no big loss. The only thing that would suck (other than the constant worry in the back of my mind about a fire or a bombing or something) would be riding the express elevator every day. It makes my ears pop and the ride up makes me feel like my spine has compressed about half an inch.

Christmas was quiet. It was me, mom, and Brian watching American Chopper on TLC all the livelong day. I got two really nice blankets, one from Brookstone and one from Pier One, squishy house-socks, Battlestar Galactica season 2.0, 2 cds, a cute scarf, a Stephen King book, several gift cards, and a Fossil watch that I've had my eye on for a few months. The watch has a wide leather band that's almost like a cuff and a big dial with a blue background that has a neat, radiating fish-scale kind of pattern. I always seem to like the men's watches more than most women's watches, so I'm kind of in love with the huge band. It's not for dressy outfits, though. I tried to wear it today and the cuff of my button-down shirt wouldn't fit over it.

One thing I did not get that I really need is a change purse. I bought a new purse last month and it doesn't have a change compartment, so now all my quarters and nickels are rolling around, willy-nilly, with my wallet and my checkbook. Actually, I think it's time to toss the Hood card holder and get a grown-up wallet.

Labels: Workin' for a livin'

I'm not liking the blog title much anymore. I think it's time for a change. I have absolutely no ideas.

So, I've been working like, ten to eleven hours a day lately. Frankly, I'm pooped. I have no energy, no motivation, I haven't written anything in about a week-and-a-half. I've been eating pretty poorly (Way too much bread and sugar, not enough fruit and veggies by half). But I did clean out the fridge today and there's all kinds of room in there for spinach and squash and peas and oranges and edamame and tomatoes and . . . whatever else I may pick up at the King if I have more than a half-hour for lunch tomorrow. There was a jar of mayo in the back of the fridge that was dated September 05. And some bread with a November 05 date on it. And red wine all over the bottom of the crisper. And som funky brownish, greenish liquid in with a gladware of veal. I don't know what that was. I don't want to know what that was.

I keep hoping for chickies at work. It is so baby-time. A couple weeks ago, Fatty was working his harem over pretty frequently, and by god, I want some ducklings running around the place right now! The chickens are more discreet, but I'm sure they've been getting up to no good since the hens are dropping eggs everywhere and just leaving them to rot.

Speaking of rot, I think someone at work is dealing with a bad case of woe. At least once a day I walk by the bathrooms and have to hold my breath. That's such a lovely thing to write about, isn't it?

Labels: Ducks and Chickens, Workin' for a livin'

I think I missed my calling as an animal behaviorist. Or a farmer. I never get tired of watching the ducks and chickens at work. On Wednesday a little rooster was chasing a black duck around the yard. The duck jumped up on a three-foot high root ball to get away from him. The rooster followed her up, jumped on the duck, stood on her back for a good ten seconds and then got off. I feel like the rooster might be a little sexually confused. The first word that popped into my head when I saw that was "Turducken," which isn't quite right, but you get my drift. There's a lot of duck-sex going on right now and maybe he thought that's the thing to do. Except he forgot he should do it with a chicken.

Work is going pretty well. I'm getting the hang of being completely out of my mind. Also, I like driving around on the golf cart, although I should really start putting my hair up when I do because I end up with a rat's nest on top of my head by the end of the day. A rat's nest coated in dirt. Has it rained anywhere on the east coast lately? Half the dirt on the property is actually floating about three feet above the ground in a fine dust that gets in my eyes and ears and nose and mouth everytime I have to go back to the loading dock to tag something. I can taste it. It crunches between my teeth. But I can't complain about having to be outside all day in this weather. This whole week has been gorgeous. I actually have a tan. It's only on my face, though. And my hands from my knuckles to my fingertips. I'm all white under my Hood ring.

I'm thinking of taking a cue from Amy and double posting here and on myspace. I feel bad that I never use it even though a ton of people I want to keep in touch with are on it. It's just such a different lifestyle over there. Too much committment, if you ask me, but I'll give it a go.

Labels: Ducks and Chickens, Workin' for a livin'

. . . although sometimes it feels that way. I get up at five, go to work at seven, leave at five (last night it was 6:40) go home, eat dinner and pretty much become semi-comatose before walking upstairs sometime around nine for bed. Receiving at a nursery and landscape operation just before spring starts is kicking my ass. But, I have to tell you, the overtime is making me very happy. Almost everything inside and outside has been re-SKU'ed, which also makes me happy. Last week Paula and I did the pottery outside. Some of it is huge. It reminds of those chase scenes in the movies that take place in Arabian market places, the ones where someone inevitably hides in a giant clay pot. Or is that a basket? Anyway, we put a sticker on it and write the SKU and the price on the inside with permanent marker. Picture me bent over the rim of a huge terra cotta pot with my ass in the air and my head down somewhere near the bottom, the inside of the pot filling with permanent marker fumes and me unable to remember a string of numbers longer than three digits. At that point I couldn't tell if my memory lapses were because it was three o'clock and I'd been tagging stuff outside since nine or if I was actually killing brain cells.

The other day we went to The Edgewater for dinner, where I inhaled my shrimp oreganata. I ate the whole thing, which included a heaping pile of rissotto (I don't care if I spelled that wrong, I'm too lazy to check it). And I had a very nice cosmopolitan which Shawn refused to pay for since he has moral issues with purchasing and serving alcohol. He did, however, buy my dinner as a thank you for cleaning the bathroom every week since we moved in (except last week - I was just too frickin' tired to put any effort into anything around the house) which I thought was really sweet.

My dad's actually doing better. He had some tests done and some weird thing done with novacaine and a very big needle, and for the first time in a long time, his back pain is actually improving. I really should call him tonight after nine (free minutes with T Mobile - him, not me) and catch up.

Labels: I Like Food, Workin' for a livin'

Whoa. As I've said before, I'm a bad blogger. At this rate I'll never make it to one thousand posts. But I do have a good excuse. But first, I have to tell you, I just had the best grilled cheese sandwich of my life. It was with provolone on 12 grain bread and I put in some spinach that I sauteed with just a dash of garlic powder. If I had some plum tomatoes I might have been able to achieve orgasm.

So. Work. They revamped the SKUing system, which, while a lot more organized than it used to be, meant that every single item in the store had to be retagged. Guess who they picked to do it? Yeah. And since I'm in the basement or out in the shop all day, I haven't been able to use the computer at work and I've been too tired to much at home except eat dinner and plant my ass on the couch. So that started last week. The day after I caught the cold that's been going around work. It's still in my sinuses. Very snotty. I worry all day about bats in the cave.

Let me tell you about the process. My wonderful coworker Paula (and I really mean that) and I pick a section of the store or a section of the inventory shelves in the basement and go about writing the SKU number of each product and the amount of each product. Then we go to the giant, many pages long list of old SKUs that have the new SKU written next to them. Sometimes there is no new SKU and we have to go ask someone for help. Then I print out the tags. Finally, we put the new tags on the products. When we're not SKUing shit we're moving shit up and down from the basement. I have been doing this for the past week with only one day off. When I shut my eyes at night I see rows and rows of SKU tags. The other night I half-woke up around 1am and started assigning numbers and retail prices to noises. Last night I kept visualizing a pile of wicker baskets and I couldn't stop. I can't tell you how relieved I am that we finished today.

Has anyone ever heard of the band My Morning Jacket? I read a review of their new album, Z, in an issue of Rolling Stone last summer and thought they sounded interesting. I've been on the lookout for new music lately since my cd collection is sorely lacking in variety (I have Radiohead. And Radiohead. And Tori Amos. Oh, look, more Radiohead). So when I could buy it discounted as part of a 3 cds for $25 deal, I gave it a shot. I've limited myself to one listen per week since otherwise I'd probably wear a hole in it. From what I understand they have southern rock jam band roots, but the new album is a weird mix of Radiohead, The Allman Brothers, and the Flaming lips. A little country, a little electronica. I love it. And the lead singer has a great falsetto, which I'm rather partial to, as my Radiohead, Coldplay, Jude, and Neil Young cds will tell you. Now I have to get their first three albums. I love having a new musical obsession.

Labels: Workin' for a livin'

Yesterday was my first day back at work and it feels like I never left. I'm already making new SKU numbers for almost the entire cement order and I'm putting new tags on pretty much everything in inventory. It's so dusty in the basement. I want to run a hose up my sinuses.

Matt and I went to see Walk the Line. I really liked it. I think about a third of the running time was musical performances, but they were all great, especially when you consider that Joaquin Pheonix and Reese Witherspoon did all their own singing. Then we walked down the street and had dinner. Matt ate a hamburger that looked like it was still mooing, and I had fried shrimp. We talked about all kinds of stuff. And then he dropped me home. He's swinging by this way on Thursday to go to Barnes and Noble and he said he'd pick me up, but I don't think it's going to happen since I'll be in Bridgehampton sitting in my office. He's going to New Zealand in a week or two, hence the trip to the bookstore. 19 hours on a plane. I can barely take 1.

We got hit pretty hard by the snow on Saturday and Sunday. And now about half of it has melted. I couldn't tell how many inches we got since it blew around so much. There was nothing in the back of the house and a drift creeping up on the door in the front. So we got around 15-20. I don't really know, I stopped watching the weather after the 26th straight hour of snow. I just know that in snowed 21 inches in Central Park (which is like, three hours away from my house) which is the most they've gotten in NYC since they started keeping track of snowfall. I did go out and play for a little bit. I made a snow angel in the driveway, and then ran inside because my pants and my jacket were subsequently soaked. Fun times.

Labels: Amatuer Film Critic Corner, Workin' for a livin'

"Sorry it's such short notice but we're actually not going to need you for January or February." So I'm laid off for two months starting this Saturday. I can collect unemployment for a little less than what I'm making now, which is fine with me. As long as I can pay the bills. I'll have a whole lotta time to catch up with my shamefully far behind thesis work. I can go home for Christmas and take my sweet time getting back to Long Island. It's really not a big deal except for the fact that they waited until almost the last possible minute to make the decision, which is a shitty thing to do. But I've got a nice leisurely two month vacation coming up. so I don't particularly care much anymore.

So I'll be home on Saturday afternoon with a suitcase full of presents that have to wrapped and hankerin' for some Bob's Fried Clams and some Honga and some Vinnie T's and some Gourmet Garden, and possibly a Friendly's sundae, because god damn my meals are pretty freakin' monotonous around here. Although I did make some salmon the other day that was positively divine, although it might have had something to do with the fact that it had been around a month since I had some good animal protein. I'm a hungry bitch. And maybe this time Madame Tracy and I will actually have the time to go boozing around town.

Labels: I Like Food, Workin' for a livin'