You Wanna Piece ‘a Me?

I got me some gripes, and since whoever’s up there running this three-ring circus doesn’t seem particularly concerned, my diary looks as good a place as any to air them out. They are, in no particular order:

1. Friday’s run. My shins, knees and feet are not recovering as quickly as they should, but Friday morning will still find me shivering at the starting line of a 5K with about 2500 other mostly-unwilling participants. The only reason I’m not getting out of this is because I can’t get out of it without looking like I’m trying to get out of it, which sets a poor example for Roberta (see #4) and leaves me in danger of being harassed by John and Co. (see #5). This is stupid. Let it be Friday afternoon already.

2. Extra poundage. I can do this. I’ve done it before, but for some reason these last eight pounds won’t leave so they stay gone. Some days it irritates me into defeat, whereupon I promptly comfort myself with junky food. Other days I don’t care and eat junky food anyway. I wouldn’t bother except this particular group of pounds seems to determine how many pairs of my jeans I can fit into.

3. Weather. Get cold and stay cold or just effing give up and be hot and dusty all year. The daily “boots or flip-flops?” dilemma is driving me nuts.

4. My subordinate. I have one young newbie with whom I am entrusted. Her name is Roberta and I take her professional development pretty seriously, which is why I get so annoyed when I come back from vacation and find she’s been doing silly, senseless, rule-breaking things in my absence. I get doubly annoyed when I must confront said offenses before coffee two days in a row. Please. Stop. Fucking up.

5. John. He is not my boss. He is not my boss’s boss. He’s not even my boss’s boss’s boss, which is why I get so floored when he attempts to school me in matters far beyond his comprehension. It’s also why he has absolutely no business telling Roberta that if she doesn’t like something I say or do, to come to him. Accept the fact that you’re basically window-dressing and butt the fuck out already, John.

6. Dogs. I hate the way people in this city seem to assume that if they can’t hear their damn dogs barking their fool heads off all night long, no one else can either. Tonight, after listening to some dog in the next neighborhood bark, whine and howl until 1 AM, I finally tracked down the source. I handed the owner a copy of the city noise ordinance and told him I’d be happy to call law enforcement to help him understand it. You’d think he’d be familiar with it after the last time they left the dog outside to bark, whine and howl for 72 hours straight and the cops came out to investigate. I’m calling this one handled for now.

7. Tom. I should have listened to my instincts about him, but I admit I got a little google-eyed at someone that high in the food chain professing his love for me and bringing me flowers. I failed to consider what might happen when you pair a man used to having people obey his every command without argument with a woman used to getting her own way without argument. Turns out it’s a lot of arguments. I broke it off tonight, and predictably he argued with me. This one is also handled.

8. My skin. Since I returned from Georgia, my skin has been breaking out like I’m 15 again. I’ve run the checklist of possible factors – new detergent (no), new skin care element (nope), new haircare product (no again), new hold-the-phone-between-the-chin-and-shoulder habit (ick, no), new pillows (still no), new anything (negative, unless you count the dining room table and two pairs of pants from Express, and I don’t think either of those have touched my chin). The most likely cause is stress. Now it only remains to be seen whether the bumps will spell the word “Tom” or “Roberta”.

9. Illustrator class. We paid over $8,000 to have some badly-dressed, verbally-challenged ‘professional’ trainer bring the entire group up to speed on the improvements of Illustrator CS2. So far all she’s done since Monday is stroll around the room asking people whether they’ve tried the gradient mesh tool yet and saying, “That’s a good question” whenever anyone asks her anything. There are at least two people in our group who could have done a better job for free.

So, to recap:
– Current things frustrating the ever-living crap out of me: 9
– Things frustrating the crap outta me that I’ve managed to subdue: 2

Dammit, I hate math.