Category Archives: Whining

Pollyanna is not politically correct

Lyda here.

A decree came down from management that we cannot celebrate Halloween in the office any more. Apparently Halloween is not politically correct.

Geez, lighten up, people.

I’d cast a turning-them-into-bats spell, but I suspect that’s not PC either.

Anyway, I could not dress up as a zombie this year, but I’m not taking the little green witch off my desk.

In other news, I’m considering writing a country song titled “I’m turning blue from missing you, or maybe it’s because of my new jeans.”

 

 

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Pollyanna tries to stay calm, people

And by “tries to stay calm” I mean, “restrains herself from throwing herself bodily on people and pummeling them until the cops arrive.”

Lyda here.

Humans get on my nerves.

  • What they do: Allowing their personal cell phone to ring on and on and on… while having extremely loud annoying music, sounds, or whistling as the ring tone.
  • What I hear: “I want everyone to think I’m popular. But I’m really so. very. lonely.”
  • Having very long and very loud personal phone conversations.
  • “Discretion? Isn’t that somewhere in Lithuania?”

Discretion is not in Lithuania. Everyone knows it’s in Santa Cruz. But I digress…

  • Caller: “Can I speak to George?” (call is transferred to George)
  • Less than one minute later: “Can I speak to George?” (call is transferred to George again)
  • Another minute later: “Can I speak to George?”
  • I am uncomfortable with new-fangled technology like voice messages and tetanus shots. Perhaps I can have my manservant bring George an illuminated manuscript.”
  • Voice message: “Hey, this is Jeff. Call me back.”
  • Dude, I am so stoned I don’t even realize I’m calling an office. Righteous!
  • “Hi, I’m returning a call. I don’t know who called me.”
  • “I’m bored. Let’s play Twenty Questions.”
  • “Hi, I got a missed call from this number?”
  • My life is so empty…

My response to all this? HULK SMASH. But only in my mind.

And one thing that usually rolls right off my back but right now is “pound these people into the dirt for me, Hulk”-able:

  • Misspelling my name in an email reply. It’s a small company. I have worked here almost five years. Plus, you are replying to an email I sent you that has my name at the bottom.
  • Reading. It’s a job skill I do not have.

And yes, by new Pollyanna decree, any phrase can be turned into an adjective by adding “-able” to it. As in:

Today I feel all “set the Zombie Army on them”-able.

Also, the spell check refuses to believe that “new-fangled” is a word. I’ll have to send an illuminated manuscript to that company.

I’ll have the zombies deliver it now. (That link is for Zombieland. See Zombieland. They aren’t paying me to say that or anything.)

Obviously these people in the movie don’t know that the zombies are just trying to deliver the manuscript. Stop shooting my zombies, people!

Maybe they need some caffeine. I’ll have the zombies bring some coffee mugs too.

There I go, digressing again…

Pollyanna and the Game of Thrones, office version

Lyda here. I was going to call this post “Pollyanna gets PWNED“.

This post contains no spoilers, in case you haven’t read the books or watched the series yet. Which you totally should do.

Have you read A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin? My Brother the Professor calls him “Railroad”. It’s the first book of the Song of Fire and Ice series, and it’s awesome. My son The Sith Master loaned me the books, and I devoured them and can’t wait for the next one to come out. Write faster, please, Mr. Martin!

Have you seen the HBO series “Game of Thrones” which is based on the books? A coworker loaned me his DVDs of seasons 1 and 2. The series is awesome, and faithful to the books. As it should be, as the author is involved.

So – this co-worker and I decided we should play Game of Thrones in the office. Without the “cutting off body parts” component of the originals. Silly HR rules.

We named it “Game of Flags.” It’s basically Capture the Flag. We divided the office into four teams.  You have to get the other team’s flag to your workspace, take a picture of a teammate with it, and email it to the office.

The competition is getting brutal.

Friday I was guarding my team’s flag.

It was stolen twice.

Twice.

I only had to guard the thing for two hours. How hard could that be? Very hard, apparently.

So I learned some things about myself.

  • I am a very bad loser. When I discovered the first theft, I acted like a toddler whose been awake for a month, ate all the Frosted Flakes in the store, and lost her toy. I was just lucky that there weren’t any managers around to witness my meltdown, and that my coworkers accepted my profuse apologies for behaving like an ass. I was calmer for the second theft, at least on the outside, although inside I was cursing.
  • I am still capable of embarrassing myself so much that I want to run away and never come back. (See previous.) One might think that one would outgrow such things. One would be wrong.
  • I hate competing. I didn’t like it as a child, and it still sucks. Possibly because I’m such a bad loser. Possibly because I always seem to lose. I never liked sports, spelling bees, or anything else that pitted me against the other kids. Instead, I was always rooting for my friends to do well. I hated it when the teacher called on someone who didn’t know the answer. I didn’t like being graded on a curve. Not because it wasn’t fair, but because I was the one who aced the test and ruined the curve for everyone else. Yes. That was me. Sorry.
  • I am far too trusting to be let out on the streets. I never suspected my coworkers of trickery. I probably need a keeper. Hopefully my keeper would have an awesome sense of direction, which would also solve my getting-lost problem.
  • I’m a terrible guard. Don’t hire me for that. You’ll only have yourself to blame when the crown jewels go missing.

Pollyanna lives!

It’s alive! Alive!!! Bwahahahaha!

Lyda here.

I spent the holiday weekend moving from original Chez Disney (which was a condo owned by my friends/landlords) to the new and improved Chez Disney (which is a house in the hills that they just bought), and then recovering from moving.

And then work was insane this week.

Once again, real life interfered with my blogging.

But I’m alive to tell the tale.

I won’t actually tell you the tale, because it would bore y’all silly. Suffice it to say, I was Zombie for a Week.

Instead, here are two things for you to ponder on:

Deep blue planet is almost but not quite completely unlike Earth

What Barbie would look like as a real woman

Up next:  Completed baby booties! Exciting!

Pollyanna and the Packing of Doom

Lyda here.

Today’s weirdest spam message included the phrase:  beagles that grow aerobically. Do you think they mean like this?

I’m just trying to distract myself.

The move is fast approaching. I did mention that my roomies have sold Chez Disney and bought a house?  I thought I did.

The actual move date continues to be fluid, but it could be as early as June 30 and will be no later than July 5.

And that means that I’ve got one full weekend left, and possibly two, to get everything ready to go to the new, larger place – Chez Disney 2.

And that means that I’ve got to spend the weekend packing.

Ugh.

Send chocolate and zombie movies.

 

Pollyanna’s on the move

Lyda here.

It’s been a bit crazier than usual around Chez Disney, where I live with my two friends and their nutty but lovable Disney Dog.

You see, my friends decided to sell their condo and buy a house. They gave me the news Sunday night, and there’s an open house for the condo this Saturday. Yes, they move fast!

So, all three of us have been packing stuff up in a frenzy. They are moving tons of stuff into a storage unit, for that “my, isn’t this spacious” look. We have all been getting by on less sleep. At least the dog is getting his exercise, running up and down the stairs with us.

Most of my books are already in storage – gasp! – and I’ve got to get the fabric and sewing machine packed up next. Oh, the suffering! I can’t believe how much fabric I have. Once the move is over, I will need to do some serious stash busting. But no time for that now!

So it’s knitting for me for a while – small, portable, and without the myriad bits and pieces of quilting. I kept out my knitting books, and I plan to practice some stitch patterns while making dishcloths. Small, portable… you get it.

Oh, the things I do for my friends!

 

Pollyanna struggles along womanfully

Lyda here.

Okay, I don’t know if I am struggling along womanfully, or struggling along whining and complaining and dragging my feet… although I suspect the later.

One of my siblings sent me an email a while ago that went “I was talking to [two of our other siblings] and we all realized that we don’t know what’s going on with you.”

That’s because nothing much is going on with me.

Since graduation. Last August.

Work? Same. Living situation? Same. Finances? Mostly the same. Instead of paying for school, I am now paying off debt. Which is good. Physically? Same. Or possibly worse.

I’m trying Crazy Aunt Purl’s 20-minute plan for the cleaning.

Otherwise, same stuff, different day.

So, in response to the “we don’t know what’s happening with you, sister,” I did two things.

  • I sent an email to these three siblings, and told them the only Big News (which isn’t my news at all, it’s the Sith Master’s news):  my son received official notice that he has gotten into the university that he wanted, and he will be transferring from his community college to the university in the fall. Woo-hoo!
  • I actually answered the phone on Saturday when One of the Three called me. And as I suspected I would, I blubbered all over him about all kinds of stuff, and asked him questions he had already answered previously, and generally was a mess.

And the good thing is, they all love me and they don’t care if I cry on them. Not that they don’t care if I cry, they do – but they are okay with me falling apart in phone conversations and/or emails. As my brother said on Saturday and I paraphrase: “This is real stuff. I’d rather talk to you about this than talk about surface b.s. anyway.”

So here’s to talking to people about real stuff. Especially the ones who love us.

Because if we can’t be real with them, what’s the point?

As Robin Williams said on his comedy album:

“Reality. What a concept.”

I highly recommend that one. I probably still have most of it memorized.

More Robin Williams: “Weave? I don’t even knit!” Ha! Still a knit blog!