It’s been far too long. It seems that it’s always boredom or stress here lately.

So in order to inject a little whimsy into my small existence, I began adding fun messages to the crawl on the billboard channel. (Now, this is a new thing, mind you, so I haven’t progressed very far with it.) I’ve started small, by adding (from my recently procurred list of fun "National Days") a new "Day" each morning to the crawl to run for the duration of the work day. "Peanut Butter and Jelly Day," for instance, or "Alfred Hitchcock Day".

Of course, anything new or different here is met with a less than enthusiastic response. The first time I instituted this bit of glee, on "National Frozen Food Day", I encouraged the viewing public to "Visit your local grocery store: April __ is National Frozen Food Day!". A merry little note from sweet, convivial Mitten. I rejoiced.

However, my joy was quashed post-haste. Not an hour later some old woman called in and demanded, "Uh, yeah. What is that ’Frozen Food’ thing running on the bottom of the screen?"

Now, a co-worker, having answered the phone, had no clue to what she was referring and thusly handed the phone to me. Again, the question was posed: "What on earth is that "National Frozen Food" thing?"

"That’s what today is," I answered, "It’s just a day, a national day. Something fun. You know, like trivia?" (All sense of normal human speech, of course, having gone straight out the window, such was my chagrin.)

"Oh, weeeellll. My friend here was a wantin’ to know whut that wuz."

And that was that. I get irritated entirely too often. But I mean really, what was the purpose. It was trivia. It was just something fun. No need to pull out the "UH! What is that?" on me!

My excitement about the whimsy lessened considerably for the next week or so. But, I mean, there are just too many fun days to pass up. So today, the most kick ass day so far, is "Name Yourself Day." Obviously, this was not to missed. So boldly I urged all the viewers in TV Land to celebrate the day. "April 9th is "National Name Yourself Day!" You can call me Pete...."

Yup! Pete. All day long. Then, as an afterthought, I changed another part of the crawl. The crawl, in all its audacious glory, now reads, "To Advertise on this Channel, Contact Pete at (555) 555-5555....."

HA! Victory! Now we’ll see if anyone calls asking for Pete....

Slight Rant

I swear.

I don't have the energy to rant too much. But I feel compelled to pontificate upon the inordinate number of sexist men I encounter on a daily basis. I truly find in hard to believe.

The men I work with directly aren't overtly sexist. But peripheral employees and far too many customers talk at me like I'm three and/or dumb as a fucking bucket of ducks (no direct assault on ducks, here). I've never been treated like anything less than cogent, more or less sane, semi-intelligent being in my life--even when I *was* three.

This guy, relatively prominent, I can only assume successful, just called and , when I told him that one of our employees wouldn't be in until later, lilted, "Hoooonnnnney, he'll be in in juuuussst a minnnnute. We're filming later. Now you be shoooore to tell him _______. Now do think you can you do that foooorrr meeee? Huuuhh? Now he might slip in the back door on yaaa, but you be shoooore to tell him, wonnnn't yaaa?"

Gah, if you could have heard the condescension! Made me want to barf!

I've experienced a relatively persistent nagging feeling regarding this, well, what I can only assume is sexist behavior, since I started work here. Hitherto, I've not really taken time to put my irritation into stable thought, because it irritates me beyond belief to realize how backward people are.

And I don't necessarily mean people "around here." I mean People Everywhere.

I swear.

Get it together people! Step out of your fucking Neanderthal modes of thought, behavior, and action! If I am inferior in any way (which I'm yet to be convinced that I am), it sure as hell isn't because I'm female...

Tread on Trina: Blinding Rage Revisited

Apparently, I've got, tatooed on my forehead, the words "Treat Trina Like Shit."
It's lovely.
Everyone come look at it.
Take heed, too, and do as it commands.
Don't know what it is about me that insists that I be tread upon.
Don't know what I project that causes people to do as such.
Well, fuck everybody.
Really.
That means you.
Yes, you.
And you, too.