This is my day.

I almost ran out of gas on my way to work and learned that when the little gas light comes on, I can travel almost 20 miles before it sputters and dies.

Fortunately, it did that just as I was gliding downhill to the gas station. Which, incidentally, I would’ve been at sooner if there had been a GODDAMN SIGN. But noooo, that would’ve been way to easy.

You see, the little light came on just as I entered a 20-mile stretch of nothing-at-all-Highway. So I thought ahead and remembered there’s a giant shopping center area at the last exit before the one I take to get on the next highway to go to work. So I got off there, and went toward the center.

And was there a gas station? No, no there wasn’t. But I kept going, until somehow I crossed over the damn highway I had been on, four miles back the way I had come.

So now I’m freaking out and promising all sorts of things to the gas gods, seeing as how it’s 16 degrees, there’s snow on the ground, more is falling and I’ve had my heat off to conserve gas.

I see a fellow Jeep-driver and turn toward her, rolling down my window. She informs me that had I gone left off the highway, I would’ve seen the gas station.

I follow her the four miles back, swearing the entire way, positive I’m about to stall and certain I won’t know where to tell them to come find me because at this point I have NO FUCKING CLUE WHERE I AM.

Obviously I made it to the gas station, and then to work, where I got to deal with a very, very annoying French Canadian woman who will no doubt call me 10 more times today to torture me.

A disturbingly large bug just fell from the ceiling.

It landed on my keyboard.

I screamed “son of a fuck monkey” so loud the people in the office across the hall heard me.

I’ve now been deemed “colorful.”

Lovely.

Also, it’s apparently now the talk of the office, as I’ve had two phone calls and one email laughing at me.

There’s a woman who works upstairs with us as a freelance design person. Typically she’s almost never here, but for the few crunch weeks right before a deadline… in other words, she’s here now.

I have two problems with her: one, she’s so FREAKING loud and two, she takes tons of personal calls here in the open room of FOUR people and we have to listen.

And today… ugh. Today, they sound like porn.

Mickey’s had four smoke breaks since 9AM just to get away from it.

Sadly, I’m over here without my laptop of beautiful and loud music (seeing as how my power cord has chosen today of ALL days to bite the dust), trying to hum anything in my head that will prevent my ears from her abuse.

It’s not working.

“You’re driving me insane and I will NEVER give you a URL of a site I’m working on again. Seriously.”

“No, I’m not kidding, a two-drink maximum? How is that a party?”

“If you don’t quit poking around on the site, I’m going to block your IP address permanently.”

“Would it help if I talked slower?”

“Have you seen the new Mac commercial? The one where PC gives Mac a GUI C++ Book? I’m NOT PC. I don’t do heavy-duty programming. Think of me as a Mac, but wearing the suit of PC and dating PC’s cousin, Web Developer Dude.”

Ah, the joys of morning meetings.

Did I mention that working for my boss is like working for a slightly slow puppy dog?

One of the owners, the one who I mainly work for, is out sick today and won’t be coming to the Christmas party.

Two of the sales people are out sick as well.

And Mickey, the guy who sits up here with me, hasn’t shown up today at all.

Tomorrow, two-thirds of the office is taking the day off, presumably to recuperate from whatever they do tonight at the party.

I drive three hours to and from work every day, and I wasn’t planning to attend this party. Go, and then get home around what, 10? 11? Then get up at 7AM tomorrow to drive back up here to work? No thanks.

But they’re all trying to guilt me, with sad eyes and extended lower lips. “Don’t you want to be one of us?” they ask me. “We hardly ever see you, since you’re upstairs [thank the dear, dear sweet Lord] and we want to get to know you better.”

And did I mention… I somehow signed a contract that says we have a two-drink minimum maximum at office functions and conferences paid for by the company?

Me, an entire gaggle of sales people, and only TWO drinks?

What are they crazy?

I’m now up here trying to make myself get a cold… but it’s 50 degrees outside and there isn’t any wind.

Argh.

Fun things at work:

Hearing I’m going to need to spend way too much money on programming customization, yet knowing my boss will want it anyway, for less. (And hearing… But.. uh.. why can’t YOU just do it?)

Working on a computer in a room that’s around 60 FUCKING degrees. (My hands are numb.)

Realizing I made more money working at a coffee shop when I was in high school than what I’m making base salary. (Nice and depressing.)

Having conference calls with PC’s ex-wife (and her boss and some random newbie), who’s actually very nice on the phone (but I wonder.. what is she actually thinking) and listening to her mention the PC and trying not to do so myself (but ending up doing it anyway).

Good times.

I smoked a cigarette.

DON’T JUDGE ME!

(rather, send me presents. I’m having a bad day. 🙁 )

Usually he sits toward the front. He wears dress slacks, but no tie and always seems like he only brushed the front part of his hair. He nods often, asks questions constantly and sits sideways, eyeballing the room, as if looking for a prospect.

And he sat in front of me today and irritated the ABSOLUTE shit out of me.

He’s the constant conference-goer and my sweet lord in heaven, I can’t stand him.

Which in part led to my having a very obnoxious day.

Here’s the thing about seminars/conferences: sometimes they’re good, but most of the time they’re worthless.

Today’s seminar? Useless. Not only was the information old, I gave one of the panelists more information than he had. That’s so sad to me. And it makes for a boring day, particularly when I have to get up at 530AM to make sure I’m there by 8AM, and I’m tired and there are so many things at work I want to do.

I know there are good conferences out there, ones with relevant, viable information that specifically pertain to certain fields, but sometimes those are overshadowed by corporations with lots of cash who put on nonsense seminars on their namebrand alone.

And it’s insanely irritating.

I start work today.

I’m a little bit nervous, as evidenced by the insane number of nightmares I’ve been having lately.

Last night’s, that I was up at wendy’s (don’t ask), and after dropping her off, two girls jumped in my car. I turned on my car alarm, but they were relatively nice and just wanted a ride. I didn’t really want too, but it was late and I just wanted to be done with the whole thing.

I drove around, took a wrong turn and ended up leaving them at an auction when they got out to ask for directions.

It was a newspaper auction and on the table was a really nice, old-fashioned typewriter. They wanted $5,250 for it and I remember thinking that was a really high price.

Yeah. I’ve decided my nightmares are warning me about the new job. That I’m too trusting and that I shouldn’t think people are my friends when they aren’t.

Sum total of sleep: maybe two hours.

Leaving now.

I had a crazy dream last night that my sister got remarried to her ex-husband. It was in a small castle-type place, and there were only a few rows of people, but it was lovely and they were both really happy. I woke up excited to blog about how happy I was he was “back in the family.” Seconds later, I sighed and realized my brain was on crack.

I should’ve stayed in bed today, because sad happy dreams are better than sad, depressing days.

The job I took uses a system that employs the Porkchop… and his ex-wife. The real fun is that she is the contact for the company, and not him. She knows we are together—that wasn’t a fun day either—so he and her talked and the three of us decided that he’d transfer an account to her and take my account. No muss, no fuss, all handled via IM this morning… or so we thought.

My new boss called their boss to see if it would be a problem having her on their account since they were hiring me, who is dating her ex. Porkchop’s boss, who hadn’t known we were together, brought it up with his ex, who said she knew and that it wasn’t a big deal—but we are all now uncomfortable with the entire damn situation.

Why in the hell would my new boss bring this up? Are they so worried that there will be issues? Don’t they think I’d be smart enough to not take the goddamn job if I thought it would be an issue? Why the HELL would they call his boss? How is our personal relationship an issue at all?

The three of us handled it just fine, and I guess I’m more ripshit because I feel like they circumvented me in this situation and steamrolled the Chop and his ex by bringing it up with their boss. (Who can be a real asshole just in general.) Bear in mind, this was a company I interviewed with and the Chop wanted to hire. So now the concern is that his boss will be all, “Oh, so that’s why you wanted to hire her.”

Apparently his boss then said it wouldn’t be a problem with her and I working together because they are divorced and so blah, blah, blah.

Do you see how they fucking created a problem that we had already dealt with? Now their boss won’t allow the transfer and I get to work with his ex-wife.

I’m really looking forward to this new job now.

When my sister and I were younger, and lived at home, we shared a bathroom. It wasn’t the only bathroom in the house, but it was the one where we kept our cosmetics and showered, etc., and it had the distinction of being the only room that was “ours” which locked.

Until my sister figured out how to pick the lock with a hair pin.

From that day on, whenever one of us wanted to be in the bathroom alone, we opened the three drawers closest to the door, successfully forming a barrier. So, while the door was able to open an inch or so, the intruder could only stick a couple of fingers in and bitch about being unable to grab a brush or go to the bathroom.

Having now lived alone for over three years, I am very used to going to the bathroom and taking a shower with the door wide open… but now that there’s someone else here, I subconsciously feel the need to shut the door. Fortunately, I’m happy to say I don’t feel the need to lock it or open a drawer to block someone’s unlawful entry. (Thanks sis, for making me PARANOID.)

I got offered the job that’s 120 miles away. Not only did they offer the job, they offered to rent me an apartment so that I could live up there five days a week, and come home on weekends.

I can’t tell you how gratifying that is, knowing someone thinks I’m so good that they’ll rent me an apartment, just so that I’ll work for them. I’ve spent the past couple of months interviewing for jobs and wondering if I’m ever going to find something that’ll be good for me and good for my employer—so hearing that someone thinks I’m good enough is a relief.

I turned it down.

Porkchop moved here so that we could make a go at this, and while the job is tempting, I wouldn’t want to be there five days a week, and here two. I don’t want to have to drive four hours each day either, leaving before dawn and getting home just in time for primetime. (Which, in and of itself, is good, since I have a complete addiction to about eight different TV shows. I know, I know, I need help. Whatever. :P)

We talked about moving halfway, but that would put us in the middle of several very expensive areas and is just not feasible at this point in time.

Still, I’m a little bit sad—but also hopeful and less worried about finding something. Everyone keeps telling me to relax, that I just need to wait for the job I really want.

Problem is, I don’t know what I really want.