Friday, March 30, 2012

TGIF - Whatever That Means to You.

Here in Kookytown, many a person was glued to the TV yesterday, watching Minister Flaherty (aka "that leprechaun") deliver the country's 2012 Budget.

There'd been much ado leading up to it. Media and lefter-leaning publications and organizations had built up the possibility of a slash-and-burn approach to programs, services and jobs. Semi-hysteria was the order of the day. Meanwhile the conservative right eagerly awaited the word on just how many corporate tax cuts/perks could be bestowed.

In the end, the media hailed it as a "middle-of-the-road" type of budget. I don't quite see it that way, as almost 20,000 people thrown out of work (Kookytown civil-servants, so who cares?), nothing for the environment and not one word on the state of health care in this country is a big fail in my mind. But I'm nobody, so blah blah.

Really, it's Friday, and now that the giant Budget zit has been popped, I'm back to thinking about what Friday actually means.

For my cube-troll neighbor, Friday means nail-filing time. How she can do it so loudly is a mystery. But every Friday, she does. A week of doing nothing but holding loud, moronic personal conversations, eating several daily meals with insane gusto at her desk, and avoiding work (every phone call she takes ends the same: "You've called the wrong person. That's not my job. Who gave you my name?" It's very Kafka-esque) is tough on a gal apparently. She takes Fridays to fluff, groom, eat, relax with feet up on desk, smoke, and above all complain.

Re: Friday, I'm also reminded of a certain blogger who used to post naughty pictures of herself every Friday. Most of the male bloggers I know would wait with bated breath for Fridays. And no wonder, 'cause she certainly has a grand body. Men from all over the world would comment.

Well, nothing so out-there for me. I'm just going to post one more round of "Friday Fright" pix. I figure these will be the last in the series, as I've finally explored most of the "unique" design elements of the office in which I work.

Wheeee! Here we go:

This is a chair in my cube. It is for visitors to perch upon (except they usually can't because my coat rests on the chair. I have no coat rack. Or even a hook. You can probably imagine what I think of the fabric. So I won't go on.

Now, let's see what happens when I pull out just a tad: so you can enjoy the overlay on fraggly-green-carpet.

Uh-huh. But it gets better, as usual. Here's what happens when I bring my desk chair into the shot:

That's correct! The fabric on the desk chair is NOT, I repeat, NOT the same as the fabric on the other chair. Predictably, neither pattern is what I'd call "retiring" although I do appreciate the "purple" theme in both (like a hole in the head).

Let's take a little closer look:

Do you see what I see? Or have I blinded you yet?

Just to be cheeky, here ya go:

This may be how the inside of my head looks by Friday of every week :)


Monday, March 26, 2012

Just When You Thought it Couldn't Get Any Worse...

OK, when we last discussed the insane colour/pattern schema of my current workplace, I just bet you thought to yourself: "Phew! That's some bad. I just KNOW they couldn't POSSIBLY throw in yet another colour/pattern to that slatternly mess!"

Well, you thought wrong! So wrong! On both counts!

Let's start with the new pattern. I'm saving the colour for last.

So I was hanging about, pretending to flip through email on my BlackBerry device as I walked about CubeLand (while actually just taking a break from my desk in order to avoid the crunching, munching, lunching sounds from my neighboring cube-troll), when I looked down. Here's what I saw:

Yes, I know. I couldn't believe it either. Let's move in for a closer gander:

I lack words befitting this abomination. I'm sure you have correctly recognized the ever-present, mind-bending fraggly green striped carpet. But the chair!!!! What the hell??!! Let's delve even more deeply into this puzzle:

If there were a God, I'm sure she would not have ever allowed the creation of fabric like this. Especially when placed next to  the fraggly green striped carpet. So: proof we live in a God-less vacuum.

But WAIT: I want to show you the wide shot for the full effect:

Oh yeah.

I'm telling you, I just about lose my lunch on a regular basis around here. I get sea-sick if I don't squint my eyes mostly shut while running from one cube to another. Getting to the bathroom without emptying the contents of my stomach - a bathroom which is at the far end of the floor from my desk - is a real accomplishment.

Ok, peeps. The final coup-de-grace. The intro of yet another bold stroke of colour. So, what do you think it's gonna be? Think hard: we already have pink, green, purple, teal and a number of motley shades meant to resemble mauve. What would add a nice finishing touch to all that?

Why, lime-green, of course. BRIGHT lime-green:

Now, that green, in-and-of-itself, is not the end of the world. It's actually kind of funky. It could be used for a nice accent tone in a beige room. Or to add fun and pizzazz to a child's room.

But Mother Of God, when you are familiar (as you are) with the total colour scheme I'm looking at as I swivel my head about here in Kookytown Gov-land, you know this was not the wisest choice of chair colour.

I need a good wide-angle lens to capture the full glory of it all for you. Maybe I'll just try and borrow one and get a really good shot of EVERY SINGLE COLOUR and PATTERN all together. For your enjoyment, of course.

This is all in the service of YOU ;)

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Mad Men

It's almost here!

If you are a Mad Men fan, you know of what I speak.

The indescribable agony of waiting for this, the new season 5, to begin, has seemed unending. But tomorrow, yes, it will finally arrive!

I can't begin to tell you how terrific, wonderful, sensational...OK, I guess I am telling you! Let me start over. I can't begin to tell you how great it was for Girl With a Flask to post a detailed and delightful guide to Mad Men, and most importantly, on HOW TO CATCH UP ON MADMEN.

That's key because it's been ages since the last season ended, due to a variety of issues centered around, what else, money.

I am going to read all about Mad Men, thanks to The Girl, because I have forgotten a lot.

But one thing I haven't forgotten, is just how great the series is. Tune in, if you haven't already.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Moms Who Need Wine

Isn't that just a brilliant name for a blog? I just finished reading this post in the Momswhoneedwine blog.

Now, let's be clear. I am definitely a mom who needs wine. Red wine. Good red wine. I'll also accept any number of cocktails, Martinis being at the head of that list.

Thank God we clarified that. You know, just in case you thought I was a tea-totaller. Whew.

So, the post on Momswhoneedwine is brilliant. It's my life. My frantic, hectic, mind-boggling, head-spinning life. The point of the post (in case you don't want to go there to read it) is to highlight just exactly how dazzling it is to be a full-time working mom. "Dazzling," as in "I'm a deer in the headlights and I can't figure out what the hell is going on because life is speeding toward me so fast I could just barf". Definitely not "dazzling" as in "I'm a star."

I've had this conversation a lot with Anthony lately. You know, the "I'm having a hissy-fit because I'm totally completely overwhelmed" conversation.

Me: "Argh! Ack! What the...! I want to die! I hate this! Did I already mention 'What the...?'"
Anthony: "Did you say something?" (as he looks up from the television).

The whole thing about "having it all" is that it's simply too much. At least, too much for women.

Here's how it works. Over time, you acquire it all. You actually WORK VERY HARD because, get this, you WANT IT ALL (or at least, you THINK you want it all): the job, the hubby, the house, the hobbies, the kids, the pets, a bigger house, a more frightening job, maybe another kid, more pets, throw in a cottage, the kids get hobbies, the pets grow incontinent, your mother moves in, your mother-in-law gets Alzheimers, the.......oh, well, you get my point.

And suddenly you realize: it's too much. You no longer want it all. What you want is to take large swathes of your life and dump them in the river. You could never work another day and be thrilled. If you never heard from your mother or mother-in-law ever again, you'd be even more thrilled. You long for the times (like when we were kids) when it was acceptable to refuse to drive your kids ANYWHERE, and btw, "No, you can't have that. Ever. End of explanation."

I am currently in this position. I know many woman who are as well.

Now, the double-edge about this is that men never get overwhelmed by having it all. They gladly go along with the women: "You want a bigger house? Sure dear. Another kid? Well, ok, if you insist. You're taking that promotion? Good on ya!"

The truth is, men don't get overwhelmed, because they don't really want it all, they never aspire to have it all, and in point of fact, their definition of "having it all" is so very much smaller than most women's, it's microscopic in comparison.

MEN who have it all actually have: JOB. (Car, girlfriend/wife, sports/hobby). End of list. In Anthony's case, his hobby is watching tv.

WOMEN who have it all: see my rant above. Add to that list: time to exercise, quality time with children, making costumes, lunches, school projects, driving granny to the doctor, picking paint colours for the repairs that may just never get done......I might as well end here, because otherwise I'll just keep writing. Women's "ALL" is never-ending.

Anthony does his job well. It's his priority. Everything else is a far-distant number 2. He doesn't think about what we will have for dinner that night. He just doesn't care, and would eat cardboard (or frozen dinners) for the rest of his life if I didn't insist on preparing semi-healthy meals for the majority of our suppers.

A clean house? Please. Anthony never ever cleaned a house until the day I made him help me do that, a couple of years ago. And he certainly never thinks about it or adds it to a list of "worries" that women like me carry around at the backs of our minds, all day, while we're busily multi-tasking away. Anthony would live in a dust-heap and like it. So much better than actually wasting time cleaning, no?

The million things around the house that need repair? Ahahahahahhaha!!!!! That's Anthony laughing nervously when I mention them. He's nervous because if I mention them, he may have to deal with them. And honestly, he just couldn't care less. He'll deal with them, to please me. But if not for me, he'd deal with house repairs like he does with anything else that isn't work related: at his own pace, when he has time, when HE feels like it. And that might mean never.

What ever. That's how he thinks about all the extraneous stuff. And then he relaxes. Because he works hard at his job and he knows, instinctively, that he will become overwhelmed if he starts thinking about all the other stuff that requires our attention. So he doesn't.

Now, why can't women be like that?

The upshot of all of this is that I am a mom who needs wine. Because I just can't shut down that ever-growing, morphing, hateful list that's in my mind, the list that reminds me what I need to do in order to continue HAVING IT ALL.

Methinks it's time to downsize. Maybe I should just give it all up, have a sex-change operation, and BECOME a man.


I'd probably just continue thinking like a woman ;)

Friday, March 9, 2012

If It's Friday, It Must Mean... goodness, has an entire week fled? Indeed.

And due to popular demand (Ok, one person), I have to really up the ante on your Friday Fright Pictures, which I introduced in order to make you as sea-sick as I constantly feel in this, my Kookytown Government Work "Environment."

Git yer popcorn and settle in.

So, when last we met, I showed you the juxtaposition of fraggly green striped carpet, with purple-grey cabinets, meeting the motley mutations of the purple/pink/violet "walls" (quotation marks R us) in my death-pod cubicle.

How can you top that, Delia? (you are thinking this, and with good justification).

I'll start gently:

Once you can stop shielding your eyes, what you will see is the introduction of yet another colour: teal, as I like to call it. Almost a robin's-egg blue. And why not, I ask? After all, clearly, the people who brought you this interior decorating scheme obviously thought why not?

Now, in review, we have vomit-violet (fabric cube "walls"), purple-grey (cabinets), green, black and beige (fraggly carpets) and NOW, TEAL. The teal shows up here and there, as cabinets, the odd wall painted not white or gray, but teal, and in the kitchenette (that's an entire other episode), teal appears in a variety of ways. I can't wait to show you that, but I digress.

Let's take another look:

Here you see a teal door (yes, we have the odd teal doors, here and there, scattered about as if some mad, colour-blind artist ran amok down the halls). Isn't it lovely? Especially when placed next to a purple cabinet,  perched nicely on the fraggly green striped carpet, and finished off BEAUTIFULLY, I might add, by the stunning addition of a vomit-violet fabric "wall."

As a treat (I've been saving this!), you'll notice something new in the above "wall," something I've been too kind to show you prior to now. Yes. It is the pink STRIPE running across the middle of the vomit-violet "wall." Isn't that "something?"

Well, because I sense you are nearing your limits, and I am, at heart, a kind person, I will show you just ONE MORE PICTURE. It's a doozy, so hold onto your seats. And your stomachs.




I knew you weren't ready. There it is. Full glory. The close-up of the pink (really livid, isn't it? Almost like my dog's tongue after she's eaten some God-forsaken food-colour-dyed rawhide strip) show-cased against ALL the AFOREMENTIONED HUES, TONES, COLOURS, WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL THEM...well, it really knocks one's socks off, doesn't it?

And not in a good way.

So, here I am, sockless in my cell cube, just waiting for my prison term contract to end. Have a great weekend, and pray for me.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Your Friday Fright

So, one week ago today, I showed you my *lovely* cubicle walls. I promised more, and I always deliver on my promises.

Here is the carpeting in my cubicle, and in fact, throughout the building:

Now, in and of itself, this carpet design is way up there in the "uglysphere." But when you pair it with the cubicle "walls," the combined effect far transcends anything I could hope to convey in words. Even gross, over-the-top descriptive words. Here you go:

Stellar, no? But let's take a closer look:

I know, I know, green is supposed to go with "everything," right? After all, in the great outdoors, green is the backdrop for a dazzling array of colours. You could, for example, allow your eyes to repose upon a flower with green leaves not unlike the tone of yon carpeting. And that flower might well be adorned with purple petals of a hue quite close to the violet shade so nauseatingly portrayed in my cube "walls" (I refuse to ever drop the quotation marks from around the word "walls").

So why do I complain, you ask?

BECAUSE the FLOWER WOULD LOOK GOOD, that's why. What procurist-from-hell for the Kookytown government thought the above combo of purple and green LOOKED GOOD?

I think I'm within my rights here, people, to complain ALL I WANT.

Ok, since it's Friday, I'll give you ONE MORE picture to REALLY MAKE YOUR WEEKEND:

Yes. After choosing the wall fabric and the carpet colour/design, procurement went finally, irrevocably and viciously straight for the jugular. They installed PURPLE CABINETS. As I've mentioned before, not pretty purple. Purple mixed with grey. Purple to kill yourself by.

I have nothing more to say. I'm exhausted just from reviewing the whole God-awful mess.

Have a good weekend, and don't forget to appreciate your own carpet, because it simply CAN'T be as bad as this.