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2004-12-04 @ 1:14 a.m.
Queen of the Cubical, by proxy

Dear asshole person who parked their car right behind mine in my own driveway when you went to your chiropractor next door this morning:

Do you think you can park just anywhere? Did you not see an entire street stretched out in two directions, with absolutely no cars parked on it? Did you think that a private residence next to your doctor's office was an extension of his driveway, even though there is a heavy metal chain hung between them? Are you such an imbecile that you think you can park behind another car, any car, and think, well, probably the person who owns this car probably doesn't have a life and they're probably in their house baking Christmas cookies and watching "Regis and Kelly Lee Live" and they probably won't be leaving their house while I'm in getting my elbow adjusted by my expensive chiropractor.

Well, guess what chickie? I did need to leave my house. And I needed to leave right then. And then there was this stupid, freakin' blue Ford pulled right up to my bumper, blocking me in from leaving. So I had to go over to the chiropractor's office and ask who owned the vehicle that was parked in MY driveway (and in my head, I was saying, "You Fucking Nitwit..."). So this blonde woman came out of a door and said it was hers. I guess I wasn't altogether pleasant because I asked her why she felt the need to park in a private driveway and she said she couldn't find any other parking spaces. And then I did a long double take and looked up and down a completely empty street, with perhaps enough parking for 7-10 cars, and thought, you sure didn't look very hard, Helen Keller.


So, fortunately, because I am perpetually early, the little delay only made me get to work 5 minutes early instead of the usual 15. I was a little nervous because I was going to be doing my first intake. I had observed one on Wednesday with my boss...and the person had been a little scary and domineering. She was really worried about missing her cab, so about every 3 minutes she would ask my boss if her cab was there yet. And I could just see me getting assigned to a person like this, and being scared of her.

Fortunately, afterwards my boss said her need for one of us wasn't very pressing since she had a lot of supports in her life, so she would be put back on the waiting list. Phew!

I then finally told my boss about my fibromaylgia, because I've been in so much pain this week and had canceled one of the earlier intakes. Evidentally she has it too, so at least she will be understanding of the kind of pain I might be enduring on any given day.

So this morning when I got there, there were two people waiting for intakes. I don't know if the one I cancelled came anyways and had just been waiting, so instead of my boss sitting in on my intake with the client, she took the second person to another location and I was on my own. Gulp. Fortunately, this woman was a lot less street personish and demanding and actually had a lot of similar issues to me. So I just took my notes and talked to her, and thanks to my little buddy clonopin, got through it ok.

I then got my exciting paycheck which was about $55 more than my first one, and I'm very happy about that. I need to renew my AAA this month and that extra $$ should just about cover it. Yay! I then ran over and got a bagel. (that is the best part of having a little money now....eating out, even if its only a bagel). I then went back for some more training with the semi-hippie-ish chick. I was really snappy today. I talked alot (thank you manic goddess) and made our trainer laugh a few times, and I knew that I had made a connection with her, when she mentioned a few things like the Kyoto Treaty and I knew what that was. And let's face it, the other two guys in the room, are very tongue tied. My fellow new hire co-worker, is extremely nice, but he talks very slow and haltingly. Its not that he's not intelligent...he is, but I just think he's medicated (like we all are to a certain extent). Afterwards the trainer asked me if I would like to join her dance class.

Me....dancing? (riotous laughter). I am very intimidated by anything that has to do with body movement in a public place (save walking). I had taken an expressive arts class last December, which, as far as I was concerned, was a class where we going to paint at somebody's house. But in starting the class, the hippie-chick leading it decided we should try to "free" ourselves and “dance” before we started painting (which immediately struck terror in my heart). So she turned on some New Age music and wanted us to run around and leap and twirl and hit bongo drums and writhe on the floor. I was mortified. I don't do things like that. Not even at home.

So I looked around, and the class, which was primarily made of menopausal hippy goddess types with no bras and tie dye dresses were leaping around like crazed gazelles. One woman had put a scarf over her face and kept bumping into stuff. Another one was squatting and grunting like she was either giving birth to a 36 pound baby or having the world's largest bowel movement. And there I stood frozen. I didn't know what to do. I'm just not a leaping type.

And then, after that, when I didn't think it could get any worse, the teacher wanted us to choose a partner and mirror their be their become one with their aura or some such shit. And kinda like in school, when the kids used to pick their sports teams, I was the last one picked. I guess all the joyful women, who were sweaty and high from their leaping, had bonded together probably feeling like that had once been sisters in biblical Egypt or something.

But finally, this one woman without a partner, did come and introduce herself and then we she did this wild hippy dippy granola-love-in-patchouli dance around me. I just stood there, frozen in fear, like the geekiest 12 year old at their first school dance. Moonflower or whoever the hell my partner was, was doing all these surreptitious reiki pelvic thrusts towards me, and speaking in tongues and I thought I would either have to call 911 or the Karma police, since I had come there to paint, not perform exorcisms.

So, even though it was nice that the trainer-chick offered to have me come to her dance class, I did decline. I told her I didn't have any rhythm, which is the truth. You can ask my friend in California. She had tried to teach me to dance once in the 80's to WHAM and Duran Duran. Finally after about 15 minutes of me looking like spastic retard having an epileptic seizure, she said, "You know you're right, you don't have any rhythm." and we left it at that.

So after the training I went over to my desk and ran off some more of the Christmas posters I made. Oh yes, I am the Goddess of Christmas now. Can you believe it? Me neither. My boss had also asked me to make a flyer which simply says, “Breathe”, so I laid the text over a leafy backdrop. She was already gone by time I finished it, so I just left it on her desk for Monday

I also made a little flyer for the entrance of my cubical I share it with this nice, but very sad sack girl who I had known from the Crazy Crazy place this summer. Anyways our cubical still had a flyer with her name and the guy I replaced. It was a stupid looking thing with two dumb looking cartoon figures, so I found a pretty piece of clip art of a bird encased in curlicues and then laid our names over the top of it and printed it in navy blue and purple inks. It turned out really pretty. I hope my cubical mate doesn’t mind the new addition, but since she’s rarely there, I’m actually think I’m now the Queen of the Cubical, by proxy.

I actually hope that people like my flyers, so maybe I can pick up a few extra hours that way. And they really are getting a real deal, I tell you. I make $8/hr. at my job. As a freelance graphic artist, I make $25/hr. That’s what I used to charge Married Guy for all his graphics work. (hey M.G., you still owe me over $40 for your business cards and posters I designed for your fall advertising campaign. Fucking cheapskate!). My brother charges $50-$100/hr. depending on who he’s working with....but I don’t have his confidence.

Other than that the week was pretty mundane. I shadowed another team member on Wednesday, during a driving rain storm, and met with him and his client at a yuppie grocery store for lunch. Our other new hire “J” was also there. She was very shy and wouldn’t look up, and the three of us (team members), were chatting away about various things. I felt a little bad that she was being left out socially, especially since they were talking about how much money we make for mileage (I wasn’t, but the guys were). So I finally asked the woman if she liked art at all. And she nodded slightly. And then she told me she likes to paint things on wood, so I told her about the art class down at the Crazy Crazy place and she actually lit up a little and said she might be interested. And that made me feel good. I felt like I had cracked through her facade just a little tiny bit, and it was like a ray of sun bursting out of the clouds.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty