I Pity The Fool

For a second I thought it would be funny to title this post, "Something’s Fishy," but didn’t want it to be misconstrued.  This post is in fact about fishnet stockings.  Why, you ask?  I’m wearing them for the first time ever today.  Growing up, they always seemed halfway between whoredom and freedom (artistic freedom, that is; countless cartoon ladies we drew in 5th and 6th grades sported fishnet stockings, though who knows why). 

On the one hand, why wear stockings if not to keep your legs warm?  On the other, they give your legs an interesting tint and texture.  Today I finally experienced it firsthand, as I’d bought the stockings on sale at Macy’s last fall, but never yet officiated the dire clothing crisis I had this morning.  I’ll say this: they feel kinda nifty when you run your hands over them and they do a decent job of disguising unshaven gams.  However, they are a challenge to put on (it’s hard to tell which way the feet go, and easy to get them all twisted around so that you actually do feel like you’re caught in a fishing net) and they sure tear easily, even though they’re the right size (or even maybe too big- the tummy area could comfortably surround a late-stage-pregnancy, for some odd reason)… 

Also, after sitting at my desk for the past two hours, the sensation on the backs of my thighs is reminiscent of youths spent poolside in an uncomfortable chair (criss-cross marks from sitting around in a bathing suit, in case it isn’t obvious).  So, the verdict?  I guess I would say that fishnet stockings may be cooler in theory than in practice, unless someone has the kind with obvious feet, no pregnancy room, and/or superstrong netting that won’t tear.  Say, is it time for me to enter myself in that American Inventors reality show???

This has been another post from the irrelevancy department.  Have a good day.

(courtesy of phonecam!)

Last night I learned that I am expected bright and early for a 7:30 AM meeting with, you guessed it, GodzillaBoss.  The evil one and his minions supposedly couldn’t mesh their schedules with ours other than at the asscrack of dawn.  Whatever, it’s totally spite, I’m sure of it.  I will have to leave my house in 7 hours and 9 minutes (i.e., at 6:15 in the MORNING).  I’m usually not even awake at that time.

And it’s guaranteed that the bastard himself will be late.

Today I was trying to calculate how much more time I have left in this hellhole.  I realized that I’ve completed more than 80% (!), as there are only two months left, and that’s 1/6 of the year, which is less than 1/5 or 20%.  Saying that I’m about 84% done feels a lot better than saying I will have to sail on this sinking ship for another two months instead of deserting it like the other (luckier) rats.

And yes, I’m still fantasizing about poisoning his food or going to the library and filling out every subscription card in every magazine with his address.  However, I will be taking a more practical avenue of revenge instead.  I plan to spend as much of June as necessary filing complaints against him, so that I can do it while I’m still on the clock.  In other words, while he’s paying me to do it.

On that note, it’s clearly time for bed.  Grrr…….

1) Musical Accompaniment

A certain Friendster of mine (as well as sometime reader of IPTF, and occasional blogger in his own right) was sorely disappointed last summer, when visiting my local Chinese restaurant.  There was nothing wrong with the food- rather, he was deprived of the exotic musical accompaniment he’d come to expect, based on my description.  Namely, Lionel Richie and other ’80s greats, played on an instrumental CD of glockenspiel music (You can read past tales of the fascinating musical adventures here, and here).

A month or so ago, I ate there and heard some new sounds.  Not on the glockenspiel, but on the PAN PIPES.  I was in the middle of a conversation with my parents and their friends, but I excitedly test messaged my Friendster to inform him of this new development.  I never heard back from him, and thought it was odd, but I know he’s busy with work, family, etc.  Well, I ate there again last night, and as I enjoyed the strains of "Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina," as they might be played by Andean shepherds, I decided to try to call him.  As it turns out, the number no longer works.  So if you’re reading this (and you know who you are), just take note that I was thinking of you (over steamed mixed vegetables, to the blissful tunes of traditional reed instruments)!

=========================================================================

2) The (Once Again) Great Outdoors

For anyone who doesn’t know, the weather in NYC has been gorgeous.  C. and I have been visiting the Central Park Conservatory almost every day, now that we know it’s there.  I swear there’s different things blooming each time we go.

I spent more time outside last weekend than in the past month or two put together.  My friend A. came over to Brooklyn and we rambled all around Prospect Park together, then strolled through the Grand Army Plaza farmer’s market, made a pit stop at the library, and then thoroughly enjoyed a few peaceful hours in and around the BMA.  It’s nice to remember how lucky I am to live where I do. 

It didn’t hurt either that I had a three-day-weekend, so whereas I normally tend to spend at least one whole day inside the house recuparating from my stupid job, and making half-assed attempts at housework, I had plenty of extra time this past weekend. 

========================================================================

3) …and Indoors…

I also rented several movies from my lengthy list of things-to-see: won’t bore you with all the details, but the best of them was Goodbye, Lenin! (by far).

The other thing I did this weekend was attend a Warsaw Ghetto Uprising memorial, at the request of my grandmother.  This was on Sunday, which was Easter and my brother’s birthday, as well as being mid-Passover.  My grandmother frequently invites me to activities and events in which I have no interest, but I felt that I should say yes this time because it sounded like it could be good. 

It was definitely not what either one of us expected…the music was lovely, but the main speaker was totally disorganized (actually I felt sorry for her), and large portions of the readings were in Yiddish (and were not translated into English).  But perhaps most significantly, there was more or less no mention made of Warsaw, or the ghetto, or the uprising.  They mentioned that they’ve been holding this memorial for 60 of the 63 years since it happened, so maybe they try to find different topics to discuss every year?  At any rate, they mostly talked about Vilna, but they didn’t talk about the Partisans of Vilna either.  A strange day.

========================================================================

4) Lastly, a Couple of Teasers…

I was going to put a reward at the end of this post for those of you who’ve slogged all the way through.  It is a funny story about something that happened recently in the Atlantic Ave. train station.  However, as I’m not sure if anyone currently reading this blog might be offended by it (I know, you’re thinking, "When has THAT stopped you?!?"), I’ve decided to just invite you to inquire after it.  You can e-mail me to ask and I’ll respond on a case-by-case basis.

Also, something good happened that is related to the good thing that happened two weeks ago.  If your curiosity is not piqued, c’est la vie.  If so, ask me later.

Ooh, cliffhangers…

Beth commented on my previous post that she hopes GB leaves us alone
more often now.  I would say yes.
Yes.  It’s Passover, which is perhaps my favorite Jewish holiday.  It
reminds us of renewal, self-advocacy, and change.  Freedom from despots
and so on.  Not to mention the fact that my feelings of spiritual fulfillment would not be at all compromised if a certain boss were hit with a couple of the Ten Plagues- I’m not talking rain of Frogs or anything, but if he gets some Boils or a bit of Cattle Disease from his next steak, I’d be okay with it…

I haven’t been updating much lately, but I wanted any concerned parties to know that yesterday morning was the Big Important Meeting for determination of the interns’ (i.e., C. and myself) fate for the remaining 3 months or so here at the hospital.  What had happened is that GodzillaBoss is losing staff left and right, and this reminded him of our existence…consequently, he’s now demanding that we not only work on his stupid offsite project on Fridays in Staten Island (which we’ve been doing for a few months already), but now also go do it on Thursdays as well, either in Pelham (the Bronx) or Douglaston (the nether region between Queens and Long Island). 

Aside from the incredible inconvenience and waste of time this would entail, it also forces us to miss important seminars here on Thursdays and screws us out of potential patient appointment slots as well.  All this because he refuses to use his pile of grant money for new hires, and wants to flex his muscles like the proverbial 800-lb gorilla who gets to sit anywhere he wants.  Anyway, the short version of the story is that the past few weeks have included threats of various degrees of covert and overtness, and we had to get our universities’ training directors involved, as well as our own supervisor, plus GodzillaBoss’s Boss (I was tempted to call him MechaBoss except that he’s so wussy).  In the end, the meeting didn’t turn out nearly as bad as I was afraid: GodzillaBoss definitely tried to put C. and me on the spot with inappropriate questions, but he was generally shot down. 

Now understand, this doesn’t mean that we got what we wanted: after we left and the real negotiation began, in the end we will still have to devote 6 Thursdays to these stupid off-site assignments, and there are only 10 or so left in the internship year.  That may not seem like a long time to you, but it can be long enough if someone really wants to make your life miserable.  The only good part was that

• a) GodzillaBoss actually STILL feels like he was right and he was forced to compromise,
• b) he has seen that he can’t just abuse us completely at will without anyone noticing,
• c) everyone else in the room could see how crazy he is (my supervisor said, "The Emperor has no clothes," to us later) and
• d) hopefully he might leave us relatively alone for the rest of the year. 

And would you believe he actually brought up our OFFICE again- right when we were leaving the meeting, he tried to make a point about how thoughtful and generous he was.  One item on my to-do list is to bring in my camera and take photos of the working conditions here.  I tried to capture it with my cameraphone, but it really doesn’t quite do the atmostphere justice. 

I did, however, get a nice picture today in the Central Park Conservatory (snapped by C.) next to a lovely magnolia tree:

This is a helpful sign of the renewal that comes with spring; it’s not even my favorite season of the year, but one of the best things about it for the past 20 years or so of my life is that spring generally signifies the approaching end of a semester or year’s worth of experience.  It’s a time of transition and hope.  Every year I feel a bit of a stirring, a waiting for something to happen or change.  My last few workplaces have been less than ideal, and I’ve always thought, "Well, it has to get better from here- it can’t get worse!"  Now, obviously, I’ve had enough life experience to stop saying that.  But in the meantime, there’s some kind of transforming hope that comes with a sunny day and a garden full of magnolia trees (not to cheese out on you).

In other news, they’re filming a movie practically right outside my office building.  Every morning I see yellow signs starting down by the train station with an arrow pointing "TO SET," plus the catering truck parks right in front of our entrance.  Yesterday, I so wanted to snag a muffin.  C. is regularly tempted to see if she can get away with using the movie people’s trailer-size port-o-potties.  I have no idea what the movie is about, but today we saw Seann William Scott standing on the street chatting up a bunch of technicians: C. says he was talking about Da Ali G. Show, but I couldn’t hear; all I noticed was the ridiculous Christmas-themed sweater he was wearing.  Now every time I see someone around here dressed like a retarded person, I have to wonder if they’re an aspiring movie star.

On that note, I’ll bid you adieu for now.

Somehow, the one year anniversary of I Pity the Fool escaped my attention.  Probably due to the intense preoccupation of craziness at work, which lately has been overwhelming both my consciousness and my subconsciousness.

It’s less than inspiring in terms of writing…and you know things are not going well when I don’t even feel like complaining!

On a more positive note, something good actually happened.  But, if you want to know, you’ll have to ask me about it…