Yearly : 2004

The cursor blinks to prod me, and I have nothing to say. There has to be something to say. Something profound. Something life-shattering, and so brilliant it brings someone bounding out of their chair in tears, shouting, “This girl knows!”

But before I get into all that, I have to say that I think my chest looks bigger today than yesterday. I was walking through the office today, and I was like, “Holy smokes, what the hell happened to you guys?!” They’re like new white shoes, I can’t stop looking at them. I mean, I’d better, ’cause it’s really weird to be walking around staring at my own chest (not that I make a habit of staring at anybody else’s chest). But I mean…there they are. Bigger. Hmm.

Sorry. You get what you pay for here. ;)

Tonight is Poker Night at the Hoang household. The parents are out of town and all of a sudden, all five of the Hoang children feel industrious – there is mad cleaning, cooking, and social planning. Laughter. Bunnies. The world is new, and we are all special snowflakes. Once the parents return, we will regress back into our slovenly anti-social selves. How’s that for a big dollop of dysfunction? It is not their particular fault that this is so…it is just the dance we do. BTW – if any of you close by would like to come, the more the merrier. ;)

I was thinking about my boss (as I often do) today while everyone was at lunch. I only work four hours, so I don’t get a lunch hour. I pass the time, during which I am often not given anything to do, playing with the tape dispenser and pondering the deep, merry thoughts of youth. I was thinking about the boss, and how Alexis said I lucked out in getting a cute boss. And then I thought – “But this is not the first time!” Actually, the first job I ever worked, my manager was also very attractive. And strangely, his name also started with an “R”. It is not just me. I mean, sometimes it is me, because sometimes I’m attracted to weird people (see Geller)…but both the ‘R’s are solid in their hotness. They’re the kind of attractive that crosses all boundaries of taste, and all you can do is marvel with your jaw hanging open while the blood pounds in your ears.

But on the flipside, I’m a kid at a parade. I can look and cheer, but there is no interaction. That’s always the problem with eye candy: no touchy. Ah…I’m all talk anyway. ;) Even given the chance (in that far away time when all the school children of hell are given a snow day), I would not have an affair with R. He is a lovely man, and I’m sure he is a wonderful person…but sometimes a girl just knows. Besides that pesky marriage thing, he just isn’t enough of a geek. He would never understand the compulsion to sit in front of a computer screen for hours re-aligning table widths, never chortle mirthfully as the little people puke all over the walkways in Rollercoaster Tycoon, never understand the humor of seeing a gnome dancing naked in a bar in Goldshire. And to top it all off – he has probably never heard of Alex Rogan, the philistine!

So you see, it was doomed from the start. (Please see entry heading for details…) ;)

I’ll be back.

Much love and mucher kisses,

G

The ridiculous obsession with the handsome boss is going well, thank you:

He sidles up to me while I’m pulling files for Supervisor K. “Hi Giang! How are you?”

How do I look to you, big boy? “Fine, R. How are you?”

“Good, good. Did you have a good weekend? Finally get through that writer’s block?”

Yeah, I’m going to hell for pseudo-lying, but you know I’m perched pretty precariously for the whole lust one, anyway. And what a great time for shameless self-promotion. “Well, actually, it was my birthday this weekend, so I didn’t get that much work done.”

He smiles widely, and touches my arm (there should be rules about extremely handsome men not being able to do that to adoring little office girls…my oh my…), “Well, Happy Birthday! That’s great!” He pauses, and then gives me an appraising glance, while I’m sure I am grinning up at him all squirrelly-eyed. “Wait, let me guess…finished school two years ago…23?”

I am reduced to monosyllables when he smiles at me. “5.”

He leans back, holding his head, as if he is the oldest man in the world, “25!” (Manager R is 40, btw.)

Supervisor K leans out from her desk, and gives a chuckle of sympathy, “OUCH. R, why did you have to do that? We did not need to know that!” (K is 32.) She turns to me, and grins, “Happy Birthday, Giang!”

R is still smiling at me, one hand on his waist, the other lingering on his tie. “I remember when I was 25, actually – right before I turned. I was out with my future wife, and my car was in the shop, so I went to rent one, and come to find out I was too young – for insurance purposes and everything – so I had to ask her, you know, to rent it.”

He is telling this to me, K, and a random British man, who’d been using K’s phone. Manager R gestures to me, and says, “She just turned 25.” to which the random British man responds with an adorable smile and another, “Happy Birthday!”

Tee-hee! I am soooooo ridiculous, and yet, somehow, SOOOOOOO the winner. ;)

So, really though (tee-hee!)…getting away from my cheap work thrills, I had a pretty good Turning-25 Event. There was dinner having, star-gazing, friend-seeing, ocean-staring, and sun-catching. There was Eminem-On-The-Freeway-Till-People-Look-At-Me-Funny (he is such a THUG…but so catchy! ;) ) There was laughter, there was joy, there was bad singing (and even worse rapping…do you even say that anymore, “rapping”? Should I abbreviate it to “rappin’”? Help – I am old, and I need a hotline!) It was all me, and it was great. Thank you all for the well-wishes and birthday greetings – and I did not even have to trap any of you by file cabinets. I love you guys…really, I do. I have no clue why you all put up with my freakish behavior, but I’m thankful you do. ;)

Gah. You all just missed me nearly deleting myself off my own blog. My life is a constant struggle between the forces of normal and the forces of moron. I leave it up to all of you to figure out which side of the bleachers I cheer on.

You love me. You do, and you know it.

AND – comment joyfully, I have figured out what was wrong with the comments!

Darth Moron strikes again.

I’m off. ;)

PS. Dear Dr. Smith: It was good to see you this weekend. Wouldn’t you like the name “Dr. Akemann” better? ;)

(…some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, i think they’re okay…)

Yesterday, Manager R was wearing yellow stripey-like pants. I mean, -ish. I was fascinated by the pants, so much so that I had to remind myself not to stare so hard at them. That sort of thing can be misconstrued. };)

(…if they don’t give me proper credit, i just walk away-ay…)

Lust for boss is off the charts. The man is a walking sin.

(…they can beg and they can plead, but they can’t see the light, that’s right…)

Today, he came in and gave everyone a howdy. Asked after the book that I said I was writing. Told him (and this is truthful), I’m having block. He said I should go outside and hit a baseball around. I am making an honest woman of myself, and actually churned out two pages of ideas for said book. If I can keep the thoughts coherent, I will send it your way, Lexis.

(…’cause the boy with the cold hard cash is always mister right, ’cause we are…)

Let me just say – I think there is a logical explanation for this sudden frisky interest in this fellow. He is a very handsome man. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would disagree. BUT – here are the facts to lay before you so you can agree that I am vindicated.

(…living in a material world and i am a material girl, you know that we are living in a material world and i am a material girl…)

1. It’s been a long time since I’ve cared to find anyone very attractive. I don’t have the mindset for it – I am concerned with what I am going to do with my life, with how I am going to get back to Wales, with the fact that I’m turning old soon.

(…some boys romance, some boys slow dance, that’s all right with me…)

2. The only guys I’ve had social contact with in the last 6 months have been either:
- Related.
- Old friends (as good as related).
- Just old.
- British and/or drunk. Nothing wrong with drunk British men, but I do not live (and lust) in Britain.
- Gay.

(…if they can’t raise my interest then i have to let them be-ee…)

3. My last two managers were females.

(…some boys try and some boys lie but i don’t let them play…)

4. It has been years since my last inappropriate attraction for a man in a position of power over me. I’ve been a good girl, now it’s time for me to have some harmless fun!

(…only boys who save their pennies make my rainy day, ’cause we are…)

5. I love eye candy. I need eye candy. I will have my eye candy.

(…living in a material world and i am a material girl, you know that we are living in a material world and i am a material girl…)

6. You can’t stop me!

(…boys may come and boys may go and that’s all right you see…)

7. Mmm…he’s so hot…

(…experience has made me rich and now they’re after me, ’cause everybody’s…)

8. I want to go to work…

(…living in a material world and i am a material girl, you know that we are living in a material world and i am a material girl…)

Yummy. ;)

(…help me i’ve been listening to this song for three hours…)

In less than two weeks, I will be 25 years old.

Just so’s we’re all on the same page: 25 is five years from 30, and halfway to 50. It’s a quarter of the way to 100.

I catalogue my life in bits and pieces, books and papers, odds and more odds. I am a rule follower. I follow the rules that were given me. I went to school, did decently, went to more school, did decently decent, and then I left school, and do my day by day.

I have no career. I am not immune to the allure of having a steady onward-and-upward type job. For some reason, when people have a career, you want to trust that they know what’s going on. They get up in the morning, and know where they’re going. They come home, and know what they’re going to do. They get married, have families, buy a car, a house, and life fills in the in-betweens. I am envious and terrified all at once at this type of living. There is nothing more seductive than security, and yet – nothing so desperately difficult to reconcile yourself to.

I have no significant other. I have not become inured to the want. But here’s what it feels like, right now: it feels like I’m a kid who really wants a chemistry set for my birthday (I did have one once, much like an ‘other’), and then would take it, not read the instructions, and blow it up, and be left caked in gunk that does not come off, no matter how hard it is scrubbed. Read: I am not ready to start again. I should be ready, but I’m not. I’m 25. I’m 25, and it’s too young, and so old.

I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m scared, and proud of myself. Yes, PROUD, damnit. Because I am not going to do something I hate for the rest of my life, ever. I would rather search my whole life and never find what it is that I want to do, than do something I know I do not.

I know what I have, and what I do not have. All the rest…smoke and mirrors. I’ll find my way through it all, one way or another. So, the forecast for October 9, 2004: the sun will still rise, and I will still be me. That’s okay. :)

On to other stuff – started work at Company A on Monday. I am working part time, and it’s temporary. I’m okay with that; I am having a general issue with the commitment thing at this juncture. Let us start right off by saying – Company A is in an industry I know nothing about. In fact, I would have to either spend 20 years in the business, or have gone to school for 6 years more to know what they’re talking about half the time. This is horribly daunting, and kind of exciting all at once. I’m still a nerd, and I genuinely like learning about new things – even though, you know, most of the time, I can hide this with an exquisite amount of sarcasm.

So. I’m helping. Directly supervising me is K. K is bubbly, and efficient in the way that all company lifelines are. I like K alright. She has a tendency to babble a little bit, and laughs a decent amount, which, given her position, is quite admirable. K eats candy with relish. I like that too.

D sits right behind me. D is an older fellow, and in my two days there, has periodically come into my little alcove to make friendly conversation. He asks about my school experiences, as his daughter also graduated from UCSB. He asks me what my family background is. I like the phrasing of his question – it is quaint and cautiously PC all at once. I like it because I do not like brusque political correctness, and neither do I like, “Hey Chinky, where your people from?”

Then, comes my favorite, Manager R. I interviewed with R. R professes to me during the interview that he is not into resumes; he is more into the “perfect fit” feeling. I like this about R, as I’m all about “perfect fit”. (I think resumes are stupid. I find them humiliating, in the same manner I find having my hair done humiliating: I am not a peacock, and should not have to preen myself so vulgarly.) R is very much a manager type. He is personable, puts his fingers into a pyramid, and plays with his tie a lot. He speaks manager-speak, and easily cruises through the office to hob nob with the rank and file.

R is also HOT. (G is only human, and has a feisty imagination.) R trained me the first day on the computers, and took me for a walk through the office and the warehouse, explaining what Company A does. Things I learned the first day at work at Company A:

• R smells good. I am not big on men and cologne, but holy mama!
• R has a great build. He is not too tall, not too short, not too skinny, not too fat. He’s just…holy mama…
• R is married with at least 2 college age kids. I don’t care, as R is only eye candy, and even if he had 65 kids and 9 wives, he would still be hot. I am a professional – I drool responsibly.
• R is left handed.

And some other stuff about some whirly-gigs and doo-dads. R has popped in over the last two days to ask how I am doing. He sits on the corner of my very large desk, and today, I cleared ample sitting space for him, should he feel the need to wander in and do so again. Because he’s my boss. And I’ll get him on the desk however I can take him. };)

(I am very bad – nobody read this! * giggle *)

But onwards…after work, I drove to the old job to say hello to everyone that I have not seen for five months. Let me just say – at the end, I hated the job, and I hated myself when I was at the job – but I still love the people. I was greeted like a long lost family member, with hugs and a few tears, and it was just…good. It is nice to know you are cared for. :)

And so here I am now. I have downs, and outs – but bring it on. Today, I can take it all.

And I press my luck every day. It’s beginning to feel cosmic. Some horrible Moron god takes over my body and makes me say and do things, and then I am left staring around in wonder at the stupendous havoc around me.

What I really mean to say is this: GODDAMNIT!

An excerpt from The Red Queen: Sex And The Evolution Of Human Nature:

In the ancient empire of the Incas, sex was a heavily regulated industry. The sun-king Atahualpa kept fifteen hundred women in each of many “houses of virgins” throughout his kingdom. They were selected for their beauty and were rarely chosen after the age of eight – to ensure their virginity. But they did not all remain virgins for long: They were the emperor’s concubines. Beneath him, each rank of society afforded a harem of particular legal size. Great lords had harems of more than seven hundred women. “Principal persons” were allowed fifty women; leaders of vassal nations, thirty; heads of provinces of 100,000 people, twenty; leaders of 1,000 people, fifteen; administrators of 500 people, twelve; governors of 100 people, eight; petty chiefs over 50 men, seven; chiefs of 10 men, five; chiefs of 5 men, three. That left precious few for the average male Indian whose enforced near-celibacy must have driven him to desperate acts, a fact attested to by the severity of the penalties that followed any cuckolding of his seniors. If a man violated one of Atahualpa’s women, he, his wife, his children, his relatives, his servants, his fellow villagers, and all his llamas would be put to death, the village would be destroyed, and the site strewn with stones.

People are mean to llamas, and it’s time to stop.

Beans, lots of beans, lots of beans, lots of beans!

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/37/.

Cutest cow…EVER! :)

Before I say anything else, really – does anyone out there NOT like Gary Sinise? I love him. Gary Sinise is wonderful. :)

But anyway – here’s to me: I had a topic, and I’ve forgotten it. Something to have to do with some sort of nonsense. But, as I say, I’ve forgotten. So here’s what you get instead:

I felt rather wistful for times gone by this evening, and so unearthed some photographs I took a long while ago. I’ve pitched up some galleries. Funny how time passes, and things I once thought to discard suddenly bring themselves to mind with a flurry of emotions I hardly know what to do with. There is no cure for longing; all we will ever have are memories.

Good times. :)