The managers at work are so inept it's legendary. Yesterday they gave us a script that wasn't even correct English. Instead of "how may I direct your call?," I was told to say "May I direct your call?" This was by the sales mgr., who is in so over her head that she drowned two months ago and doesn't know enough to shut up and die already.
May I direct your call?
Yes.
Now what? I don't know where to direct it. It's moronic. I said, "that's not correct English," and refused to say it. One of the other mgrs. told me that it was fine to say "how my I correct your call." Thanks for letting me speak my native language. I am an English teacher!
Morons! I'm surrounded my clueless tools!
(left: bad ass muther f@+ker, mixing both spring and autumn colors!)
Time goes by. I still feel like a fish with feet trying to swim through the ocean.
It's cool that I'm adaptable, but where do I fit?
No worries. I'll figure it out.
But that's how this particular blog began. So thanks for reading.
SO BLOODY COLD!
Rush Limbaugh says it's a liberal media creation.
1. The media is mostly conservative.
2. Limbaugh is big and fat. Of course he doesn't belive it because he is too insulated too be cold!
Ive been waiting here for so long
And all this time has passed me by
It doesn't seem to matter now
-Genesis
Yet another day below freezing.
40F seems like a heat wave.
Work is boring and chipping away at my soul.
People keep offering me all comission jobs selling insurance. I'd rather become a prostitute.
But everything else is aces!
Call out
Your name
Call out
Insane
-U2
Okay. I think I have turned the page (or at least the first chapter) of my grief at having lost Ellen the way we did. My heart breaks for her in those last days/hours/minutes, but I choose to remember her the same way that Mel, Mum, Kev do; giggling and laughing.
So this one's for Ellen. I remember playing U2's Under a Blood Red Sky for her and she had never heard it before. She went on to be a huge U2 fan. I can remember us singing our faces off. Fucking hell Ellen, the world is a truly lesser place for not having you in it.
Link: 11 O' Clock Tick Tock - U2 Live at Red Rocks
Trying to rebound from the loss of my friend and how she went, but obviously that's going to take a while.
Her poor family. I can't even imagine.
The Verrazano-Narrows is 692 feet. Thanks to vast nature of the Internet, I was able discover that a fall of 3x your height will kill you 50% of the time. That means that 32 feet would probably be enough to kill almost anyone under six foot, or taller.
So 692 is more than enough. That would be at least 15 stories. If she survived the fall, she most likely died on impact.
And what does her husband tell her kids?
*
In happier news, Kevin, Pat and I went to go see this band to do Darkside of the Moon in it's entirety. It was an amazing show. And it was good to be with old college friends after a week like this.
And through the wire
we will walk
-Peter Gabriel
Today, I found out that a friend that I had known for 30 years, committed suicide by jumping from the Verrazano Bridge last week. She had a husband and 3 kids. It's enough to boggle the mind.
She was a beautiful person, inside and out. She was a beacon of light and the first true female friend I had ever had, romance completely excluded. We cracked each other up.
Good-bye, old friend. I don't know why you did this. I can only assume you saw no other way out. The world has lost something by losing you.
I will always love you and cherish your memory.
So, life goes on. It snows, and I trade one day off at work for another to make it up.
It all comes around. I just shoveled a bit, even though it's late. I am not a morning person, given a choice. Plus, I like being out when it's actually snowing.
blame it on the black star
-Radiohead
