My dog is a brat because he learned by watching me

Soooo, I survived yesterday's trauma/drama. It was the culminating point of my efforts and pains from the last few months. I got my report to our publishing people, so it's only minor changes until next week when the report actually becomes public. This is after having multiple phone conversations with my insipid teammates and my bulldog of a lawyer that insisted that our use of commas on the 2nd full paragraph on page 8, third sentence, was really a legal problem. NO IT WAS NOT!!!! I'm sure the lady really hates me for being a mean, stubborn brat that won't accept her "legal" changes to the draft that's been hacked over by 15 people (including the attorney twice already) over the last month. IF I COULD JUST HAVE MY WAY, IT'D BE A WHOLE LOT EASIER ON THEM. That's what I wanted to say, but instead, kept my mouth shut and imagined her head exploding all over the receiver. ha hahahahahaha. AND my masters class had an informal presentation, which they demanded that I supply 3 hardcopies of my section and meet with them 3 times over the last week (BTW, I didn't know that until after they had already met, because I didn't get their messages due to my dad being in the emergency room, and the mom exposed to the meningitis). Because I didn't supply them the requisite 3 copies and only emailed them a copy two hours before class, the team "leader" decided to email me reminders all yesterday morning. First of all, my section is completely independent of theirs, so they don't need to know what I'm going to say. Second, their priorities.....this INFORMAL presentation equals about 0.1% of our participation, which is about 15% of our overall grade. So that's 0.015% of our grade. PLEASE, people, perspective here. DO THEY NOT HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO DO???? my GOD!

The end results of all this is that I don't have meningitis. I thought I might have since I had a really bad cold with my head and neck was hurting so badly this last week, but it was just the attorney shoving her way up my ass. Once I removed her and shut up my annoying classmates, I was good. Still stuffy but not fatally contagious. :) Yay!!!

One thing would have made my last two months much easier:

The ability to mentally project extreme and debilitating physical pain to someone over the phone.

That would have been really nice to have.

For all those who wanted me to blog these last few months, I just wanted to spare you the details, but you insisted. So here you are:

Absent boyfriend in war zone, running on three months and have three months more to go. Email doesn't work half the time and have talked to him twice since, two months ago.

Knee surgery and recuperation (aka daily hobbling pain--yes those are bruises to my ankles and elephantesque swelling. It took about two months for those to go away).


Physical therapy twice a week since January so that they can see just how much my knee hurts me.

Working and working and working, because it's my drug of choice.

Horrible idiots. At work and at play. You wonder why people shoot people.

Wedding by myself drunk.

Wedding by myself drunk.

Baby shower.

Allergies.

Demon dog. Dog that never sleeps. Dog that loves me.


What I have to look forward to:

3 hour long class on joint maritime operations. yay. Let's talk about Midway.

Bridal shower planned with bridezilla who happens NOT to be the bride.

Wedding by myself drunk.

Wedding by myself drunk.

Money funnelling far far away from me.

Working and working and working to get more money to get funnelled away.

Hopes for a debilitating accident so I can have another "vacation."

This is me.


Actually, it's how I feel I should look...grizzled and dazed, like a reclusive Russian math genius who turns down $100 million after figuring out how to prove that a donut can be morphed into a sphere without ripping it. Highly technical stuff, very profound, useless to a majority of the earth. And after this last month of running around to find out that I, a smidge of DOD, and too many lawyers, believe to be so important. But it's not. Not really. But it makes me feel so good, like bruise-poking, slapping-mosquito bites kind of good.

Nothing lifts me from blog silence like this:

George Allen Working that Stump with Racial Slurs

This man is a complete idiot. I've always held him in contempt, even more contempt than our current POTUS. And I am one of those "Southern Virginians"--who tried with all my might to keep him off the political scene, campaigning against him when he ran for governor, and disliking him as a Virginia delegate. And now the stupid masses have put him as Senator and he's revealed himself as the blatant racist red-faced countryboy jackass that he is.

Can I mention again that I can't wait to have knee surgery? It seems like this long planned vacation, one where I won't have to bother with the work, the irritating people, and just get to lie around, relaxed.

Albeit, drug-induced relaxed. The kind of relaxed that doctor's are required to warn that you might not wake from. But still relaxing.

I wanna be like Jake

So, I feel like I've just wrastled with Heath Ledger for three months in a pup tent somewhere in Montana....exhausted, a little out of touch with the world, and really beaten up (in a good-for-me kind of way).

As of last posting I have:

-Published two reports for the agency--don't worry you won't find them on the web, they are *restricted* (aka might cause anarchy)
-Browbeat and terrorized the soul out of my idiot staff (OK, just the one idiot)
-Dealt with incredibly two unresponsive and obnoxious defense officials
-Made same two defense officials quit
-Been staffed to run another job (that's three at a time for the record) on something I know nothing about, but they "have faith" in me
-Finished final exam (mine warfare woohoo!) and research paper (how we should dismantle and defund the Department of Defense) for class
-Finished three presentations in class on stuff I know nothing about, but sound like I really do (let me tell you about defense intelligence and special forces.....)
-Went to pre-op physical therapy for the bum knee about a bazillion times in which they had me do too many hours on the stairmaster (hello! bum knee!) or balance on a half-deflated ball with my eyes closed while they chucked things at my head

In other words, I really hated my life this past month, but I was all "good for me" in the end. I didn't die NOR did I kill anyone. And nice things did happen:

-Had a wonderful birthday party--thanks, Munkeigh and K, makers of good food and cheesy psychedelic cake
-Went to Mellie's birthday party, complete with more cheese and pooh cake...yes, I said pooh
-Halfway moved wonderful boyfriend into my house (Yay! Living in sin!)
-Got cable (Bravo, MTV, and Discovery, how I've missed you so, these few years!)
-Trained pooch to not poop all over my house and be reasonably well-behaved

Now all I have to do is move the heavy furniture part of boyfriend in, one more presentation, one knee surgery, one oh-so-fun month in a leg brace, three weddings, two bridal showers, one (or maybe two) baby showers, and I'll be good to go for the year.

Look Like a Munkeigh and Smell Like One Too

Vanilla cookies with a soothing undertone of bleach. Now that's a compliment.

Yay! I'm 30 today and I am leaving my crappy 20s in the dust. Am adopting the West Coast attitude of my boyfriend and not caring as much. So far, it's great. Got my final exam back from my grad school professor that I turned in 3 days late and still got a B, so who cares?

Also, can't wait until my party on Saturday, hosted by the M and her happy buddha. (Shown here). There will be much cheese and reveling. What more can I ask for?

OK, prepare yourself for obscurity.

"Argh!" I cry out into the dark like a streetlight's last breath. My dog smells like Fritos and my cabana boy isn't motivated enough to cabana. What do I have to do to change my world, my Hitleresque insides ask, without resorting to being me?

You know, sometimes, it's freeing to create bad prose.

Debating whether to throw myself an over-the-hill 30th birthday party. Unfortunately, it would have to be on April Fools Day and that's just asking for it.

My fingers smell like garlic.

Happy?

I've been pestered to blog more because the photo of the Children of the Corn has become tantamount to UN defined torture.

So here's my public apology--sorry, very busy, work kicking into high gear, worries about Hitler-esque attitude with stubborn doggy, all with a completely torn ACL in my right knee. It's a wonder that I can even stand--literally and figuratively. So sorry.

With all that said, what inspired me to blog was that I finally resolved to stop putting up with the shit that others and myself pull. I won't spend my weekend worrying about the week. I won't constantly shift my schedule and plans to fit others wants and needs. I won't ever ever again eat fast food. Well, at least for the next year. I won't let someone else's definition of a good life impact what I think of my life. I will stop putting off what I can do now (which I am by blogging, but starting right after I blog) by worries about the other stuff that I need to get done now. I won't care about what others think of me. I will stop gossiping and find something better to do. (Like read People magazine). I will communicate what I am feeling and tell people to fuck off more often. I will accept the attitude of Right to help the Left. I don't have to go to Church. I don't have to accept bad behavior. And finally, I won't put up with complaints about bullshit.

Yay.