Bitchy or funny, you decide

I am alive. Barely. At a time when I'm sporting the latest virus I also have 3 new projects dumped on me so have been working crazy hours. By the time I got home and scrounged up some grub, I just wanted to relax. And what happens, fucking phone rings off the hook.

I'm known to enter the random contest or two, so this is the strategy I've started using when charities, sales people, or (wtf?) survey takers call and invade my peace and quiet.

Hoodchick: "Hello"

Annoying caller: "Hi, is Mrs. Hoodchick home?"

Hoodchick: "Why, did I win something?"

AC: "Uhh. Umm. No, but..."

Hoodchick: "If you're not calling to tell me I've won something, then I'm not interested."

AC: (usually with a nervous chuckle) "Well, I'm calling about..."

Hoodchick (interrupting) "Seriously. I'm. not. interested." click

Captain Clueless can't believe I do this. He thinks it's totally bitchy. But he's the guy that picks up and immediately disconnects when a call is from an unknown number. And they just call back later.

Now I'm off to mix beer with antibiotics, and catch up on my blog reading (it's ok, it's lite beer.)

Performance anxiety...

I'm in hell. Really.



I've procrastinated and made half-assed attempts to the point where I have to have my yearly performance review submitted to my boss by freaking Monday. For those of you that don't have to deal with this corporate BS - they give us a list of general level things to accomplish. Then you have to come up with things that fit that list and show you actually contributed something "to the bottom line". It's better if you can quantify them. Then you have to give numerical rankings to your work. Then you go over it with your boss, change the numbers to what they think they should be, sign it and "whew, done for another year" sets in. So I just have to get over the hump, right? But with today's economy and layoffs, I really feel the need to have something impressive in here. I don't think I would do well on welfare, I have too many vices. Chocolate. Smoking. Drinking. Shoes. Heat. Oh yeah, and piles of bills that companies actually have the nerve to expect payment on.

After spending 6 hours refining it today, and being 2 beers in, I'm feeling pretty good about 3 sections of it. The section I'm stuck on is around communication. Now, I know what you're thinking. I've started a blog where I manage to blather on and on about nothing, and I seem fairly literate. But anyone that doesn't know me very well says the same thing "She's so quiet!" Here's a list of the reasons I am so quiet:

• I'm an obnoxious smart-ass holding in all of the inappropriate things I really want to say.
• I lack social grace. Really. Some (thanks Jeanne) think I have a mild case of Aspergers. I'm horrible at making small talk. I mumble something about the weather, stare at my shoes and then hurry off because "I have a meeting to get to."
• Bragging on myself is not something I'm good at. I'm much more likely to make fun of myself for my many flaws. I'm sure being the middle child comes into play here.
• I'm a private person. I know, I'm letting it all hang out here. But I feel fairly safe and anonymous except that some people following Jeanne might figure out who I am. And it worries me. Also when you say "I had a really bad weekend" I don't say "Really, what happened?" not because I don't give a shit but because it feels like prying.
• Well, ok, some times I really don't give a shit.
• I suck at politics and that sort of thing. Really, I just want to make shit happen. And I want it to be right. If you really need your ego stroked that bad, go into acting or something and get out of my world.

Wow, this is better than therapy. Not that I've ever been. Or it could be that I've almost finished my third beer. I have to go. Captain Clueless (who spent 4 hours surfing the net) is done and now in there whining about being bored and all I do is blog anymore, wah wah.