Tonight I threw a wine bottle at the television. No one worry, I had already consumed all the wine from it. My aim was off so nothing was injured, and I didn't waste any liquor.
There was the skit we did at the summer camp where I worked for six years... "And in walked a tall man, a medium man and itty-bitty teeny man. And all they talked about was politics and politics and politics. . ." Sometimes we'd reverse the roles so the men had a turn talking about shopping and the women got to talk politics, but you get the idea.
Tonight all I think I'm the itty-bitty teeny woman who can't stop talking about politics. This shit matters a whole lot.
I can't believe there are seriously people out there who are going to vote for Bush. That's so scary.
My exhausted tipsy ass is going to bed now. I'll leave you with some stuff to read. Like this is a real blog.
There's a lot of information out there. Go get informed and get riled up and help others to get informed and get riled up. We're so close.
And if you want a funny story today, I spent more than three hours on hold this afternoon. Most of the life was drained out of me, so there's no funny available right now.
I got someone else in the office to dial the number while I waited in the queue, she found a person. I was summoned "She's reading him the riot act! About putting you on hold like that!".
I ran to her cubicle. I did my best to get the information. No help. "Wrong department." At least this person (unlike the five before him) was willing to accept that I was reading a valid account number off the invoice.
"I'm going to have to transfer you to our business accounts division."
"NO! I do not want to sit on hold again! Can't you call them and get a person and then put me through?"
"No, I can't do that. Please ho--"
"NO. I want to talk to your supervisor."
The supervisor was less polite and just put me on hold in midsentence.
"He shouldn't have given you any information. This is the wrong department. You'll just have to hold while we transfer you."
"And how long can I expect to--" [hold music, the soundtrack of which I was not achingly familiar with.]
I hung up. By then it was after four and I was too angry to call back after returning to my office and playing my voicemail. I'll try again on Monday I guess.
About One Year Ago: "She's just dying to know if there's something wrong with my thyroid. Apparently her Better Homes and Gardens Medical Degree (that's her term for it) brought her to that diagnosis sometime last year."
About Two Years Ago: A nothing entry just letting you know that I really hated working at that car dealership.
