enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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musings on a grumble-y stomach

Thanks, all, for the kind compliments and notes!!! Whenever I look at pictures of myself I realize what a complete goofball I am, but it's what keeps me young so I'm OK with it.

I'm afraid I'm running behind today in catching up on reading and responding...I just returned home.

I've been feeling queasy all day. Not sure why. Perhaps because I fear an impending decision regarding my job...as in tomorrow. Yikes.

I'm going to try to relax/destress now for a little while, and then I'll get back on the computer. :)

Otherwise today was generally uneventful. My boss gave me yet another reason to leave--another silly request at end of day (data too noisy to be of use, trying to come up with backhanded figures that say something when the data can't possibly do so--you know, the usual stuff).

And if you'd like to be amused, my senior economist let it slip that not only did the guy at the Line Dance dept. call him today for a reference, but that the boy wonder who would be my new boss is not only nice but earned his Ph.D. in economics at none other than Aardvark.

He probably speaks seven languages and has the world's cutest kids, too, in case I'm not already sufficiently envious of him. :)

Sigh. I kind of hurt right now. In a semi-indescribable way.

After I feed my stomach I will update with a note on the party last night. It was fun and lovely and yet somewhat difficult for me in the end. I'm going to turn the conclusion in the other direction though and say that it gave me food for thought.

And I have a funny story about the guy at the data centre not running my damn program (which involves for him only push of a button; I'm not allowed to run the data on the Master file for reasons of confidentiality, but I can see the results once they discern that the cell sizes are big enough), but rather looking down my top as he tried to extract from me information about jobs at my department (why anyone would hire anyone like that who does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING is beyond me, but I digress). When I told B about it for full effect I told him that I had figured the guy could at least pay me back for the peek at my cleavage by running my DAMN program and getting me some results.

B's face turned red and purple.

I was quite entertained.

And trust me, I don't wear skimpy clothing at work so much effort was involved in data centre guy looking down my dress. But when you're utterly unwilling to do anything approximating WORK, I suppose that you have lots of energy to expend in looking down the top of one of the few girls to visit your dusty office.

Apparently in order to run my program he would have to "schedule some time with me."

It's quite remarkable, come to think about it, that I am not either murderously or suicidally inclined, non?

8:12 p.m. - 2007-10-09

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