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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Shit's not funny

I went to a preview screening of Al0ng Came P0lly. It was romantic ‘n silly, and there were a few scenes that made me laugh. But cranky rue-madame cannot abide all of this toilet humor. Jokes about Irritable Bowel Syndrome are not comedy! I suppose we have the Farelly Bros to thank for that. Their movies (and South Park) opened up a Pandora’s box of scat humor that I do not find even remotely funny.

Go see the movie if you want your brain to check out for an hour or so, and if you want to further appreciate Philip Seym0ur H0ffman’s and Hank Azaria’s chameleonic abilities. I love those guys.

I’m boring these days. I work, I tape tv shows that I’m too tired to watch (a-boy, am I glad they ditched that Anne from Next Top Model, and b- happy that someone else besides Ryan is onto Oliver’s shenanigans.) I’m re-reading Kavalier & Clay because I haven’t had time to go to the library to pick up the titles I reserved. I’ve been eating lots of eggs. I have tickets to see The Shins in February. I haven’t packed a goddamned thing. I’ve got a consult with a surgeon next week, and I still don’t have a hair dryer or a flat iron for my banglettes.

I feel like I never accomplish anything! At all! All day! Every day! It’s a sickness.

I cannot wait to do nothing tonight (see above.) I’ve planned a meal of japanese curry (which comes packed with an obscene amount of MSG) to ensure that I do nothing. MSG Coma-san, how I love you.

I had a most triumphant moment yesterday. The agency that is supposed to be paying me has promised payment twice and not delivered. So I called to find out where my check was, and was given a bunch of flimflam excuses by the office manager/finance person. This has happened multiple times and I’m getting pretty sick of this woman shining me on.

So I got the client involved.

I called the client and said, “I don’t know if there’s any pressure you can exert, but my dealings with intermediary agency have fallen apart. I’ve invoiced 4 separate times, have been paid once, and every time I inquire about a check, I’m given the runaround.” My client was not happy and said she’d call the intermediary agency.

Twenty minutes go by and my phone rings. It’s the office manager/finance woman, and she is agitated and barely in control of her simmering anger. I was totally freakishly uncharacteristically calm. When it became apparent that I would barely be able to squeeze any words in, I let her rant about their bank in New York (like I care,) the financial tier system at Morgan Stanley that they are a part of that makes payments slower and more difficult (like I care,) her frustration with her boss over his unwillingness to bank locally (like I care,) her illness (you get the picture, but I mean she actually said, “I’m sick, you know”) her lack of vacation, the fact that she told her boss that she was removing herself from this portion of her work because she couldn’t take it anymore, the seventy or so vendors that she’s obliged to and constantly having to answer to, the fact that she works long hours... this went on for what seemed like hours but was actually more like 15 minutes. I was empathetic over her plight (“Sounds you could use a week at Canyon Ranch”,) asked her who would be my contact about my fees (“Would you recommend that I speak to {your boss} about this? Will he be my contact in the future?”) then finally at the end, when I couldn’t take it anymore, in my calmest, slowest and most professional voice, I said, “Sounds to me like a lot of these issues are things you need to work out with your boss. I honestly had no idea you were working under such duress and I apologize for adding to your burden. I feel bad about your situation because you just sound so frazzled and overwhelmed by your responsibilities...” She didn’t even let me deliver the coup de grace!

She cut me off, and said, “I wish you the best.” CLICK.

It was so weird. This woman was beyond borderline for a nervous breakdown. She was having the breakdown right then and there on the phone with me! It was fucking bizarre.

That's it. In a nutshell

6:56 p.m. - 2004-01-15



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