holy fuck

Busy as hell this week. I have so much going on, I think my brain is starting to leak from my ears.

First I have my job. I am working on two projects right now. I am wrapping up (YAY!) the project with the client in New Jersey. I have about 1 week of work left on that. Then I have a new project that fits right into my comfort zone, but the deadline is so tight (this Thursday) that I'd have to not sleep for the next two days to get it done.

Then I have my own side project that I've been moonlighting on.

Then I have friends coming in from out of town to visit.

So needless to say, I'm running around like a crazy person. Tune in next week though to see if I've gone postal. I will write from my cell, I promise.

ball and chain

Sorry for taking so long to write.  Love, life, and work have been getting in the way lately.  I know, how dare they!

Well I went and done it... I asked Belinda to marry me.  I asked her on the occasion of our third anniversary. 

Sorry if I didn't mention it to you all before popping the question, but I kinda wanted to keep it a secret.

Anyway, I couldn't be happier right now.  Belinda is glowing too.  I asked her on Tuesday.  Tuesday is a good day for such things I guess.  I asked her at a gorgeous secluded spot in a gorgeous secluded park here in our fair city.  I got down on one knee and everything.  She started bawling like a big baby.  It was great!  After that, we went for a walk along the water making googly-eyes at each other the whole time.  Then we had a wonderful dinner at the fanciest (read: most expensive) restaurant in this city.  Overall it was a sweet day.  Nice, memorable, and I was even wearing the right color socks.  Perfect.

Of course, Belinda thinks I'm about 35 months too late.  She has been itching to get hitched since about one minute after we started dating.  She says to me, "I have known you're the one since the beginning."  Wow.  Talk about a brain-fuck.  I feel like Neo.

Belinda and I have been talking about getting married for quite some time actually.  Our conversations (read: brawls) usually started out something like this:

Belinda:  Soon?
Grumpy:  Soon?!  What the fuck are you talking about?
Belinda:  You know.  Soon?
Grumpy:  Oh, that.  Yes it will be soon, I promise.
Belinda:  Promise?
Grumpy:  Yes, I fucking promise.  Now stop pressuring me otherwise I'll never ask you...
Belinda:  A girl needs to be reassured!
Grumpy:  Belinda, we've talked about this a gazillion times!  How much fucking reassurance do you need?  I am going ask!  Just give me some fucking time!

Then a gigantic fight erupts where she tells me how immature I am and I must be afraid of commitment, etc., etc. 

Well, now we have one less thing to fight about.  Well, no, now we have to fight about seating charts, centerpieces and china patterns.  But, hey, at least that's something new!

big four-oh

I am out of town for the next couple of days to return to the family compound.

We are all getting together to celebrate my sister's turning 40.

Holy fucking Christ.

I can't believe I'm going to have a sibling that's 40. Wake up you Grumpy bastard, that means you're not far behind! Holy shit. I am totally freaking out...

I didn't react this way when she turned 30. When she turned 30, we all wished her a happy birthday, I quietly turned 24 a few months later, and that was it.

Now, it's a decade later, I'm not much further along in my life than I was then. Sure I have the love of my life, Belinda. Sure, I make lots more than I did when I was 24. And sure, I even have a great dog.

But I don't have all those things society tells me I'm supposed to want. A wife, 2.2 kids, a fancy car, a house with a lawn and a white picket fence, a high powered (and high paying) job, a $4000 gas grill, PTA meetings, soccer practice, dance lessons, etc., etc. Nope. None of that. And how am I supposed to have a meaningful life without all of these things?

I have stopped reading my alumni magazine. It's just not worth reading. Who wants to know about the guy who never studied, was on ac-pro for 6 semesters in a row, went to frat parties so he could do keg stands and funnels until he puked down the front of some large breasted coed's tank top. That guy is now a VP at Some Big Company, Inc., and makes $200,000 a year more than I do. He drives around in a Mercedes, and uses his Lexus to take the kids and the dog to the beach. No, no more alumni magazine for me.

The thing is, I am 99% sure I don't want any of that bullshit. I know I am supposed to though. Everyone is supposed to, right? I find is hard to believe that all that stuff will give me fulfillment and happiness. I am willing to bet that Mr. High-Powered-Executive is fucking miserable. I bet he's in therapy and taking Prozac and Valium and Viagra. I bet he has a loveless marriage, his wife is frigid and he has a mistress. His kids talk about what an asshole he is while they smoke pot in the basement. And his dog barks at him whenever he walks in the front door. But on the surface, he, the wife, the 2.2 kids and the dog all have a perfect little Brady Bunch existence, don't they?

I am pretty sure that none of this shit is the key to happiness. But don't ask me what is. If I knew I wouldn't be so fucking cranky now would I?

scumbag, part deux

If you remember my earlier post about my terrible experience on EBay, you'll be interested to see this little gem I got today:

Your fuckin cheque was returned "unpaid" asshole. I suggest you send me another cheque asap or I will just put you on the back burner and have YOU dealt with extremely easily. Dont fucxk with strangersx assxhole, you are liable to get burned.

Wow. The bad spelling is not mine. How do you think I would be "dealt with"? Since when is "dealing with" anyone extremely easy? Is there a new EBay mafia? Somebody watched way too many episodes of the Sopranos. My response:

Dear Auctioneer,

Threats are not necessary.

I still have not received the necklace. I noticed that you received quite a bit of negative feedback on EBay and your EBay account was terminated. Naturally, I cancelled the check due to a lack of confidence in YOU. It has been over 1 month since I have won this auction, and I still have no merchandise.

When (if?) I get the necklace I will promptly send it back to you.

Sorry it has come to this.
Grumpy

This is starting to get really interesting.

new jersey

Looks like I will be going to New Jersey yet again.

I have tried and tried to screw up this project and get the client to take it away from us. But nooo... the more I fuck up, the more the want us to do. You can read all about the project from hell here and my shitty job here.

The latest on the project from hell is that we are $30,000 in the hole. Which on a project that was supposed to be only $75,000 is pretty deep in the hole to go. I just got cc'ed on a beg-the-client-for-more-money email. Here is a brief excerpt:

Even with this discount, the invoiced amount exceeds the new purchase order total by $10,400.30.

So it looks like my company is going to charge them an extra $20,000 and we're going to swallow the rest. Ouch. For a company with 8 employees, $10,000 is not an easy figure to swallow.

My opinion is that the person who scoped out the work (my boss) fucked it up. Of course this is not something that he is willing to admit.

As a person who likes to try to predict the future, I'd have to guess that the next time there is a small downturn in the projects we have, my ass is gone from this place. Somebody has to pay for such a large screw-up. Might as well be me. Besides, I don't fit in culturally here. They know it. I know it. None of this has been said, I can just feel it. Even if they don't fire me, I have a bad taste in my mouth from working on this project for the last 5 months, and I will probably quit if I could only get off my self-pitying ass and fix up my resume and portfolio.

So time will tell. For now, as long as this project is going on I have a job. But only because it would take too long to bring a new guy up to speed.

One thing is for sure, when this project does end, I will have lots of new material for the blog...

marathon

This blog is my way of venting. Belinda's way of venting is to talk with her coworkers. She is the type where she will pretty much tell anyone anything. She is very open.

The other day, the sherpa routine continued. Except this day, I had to carry all the usual stuff as well as her laptop. By the time we got to her work, I was late, I was sweating, my back hurt, and needless to say, I was a little on the cranky side.

Yuri sits next to Belinda in her office. They have an open floor plan, no cubicle walls or anything, so they chat all the time. I have never met him, but Belinda tells me how he makes her laugh all day by making fun of her. All I know about him is that he is older, Russian, works part time, and is very funny. Many mornings, Belinda will get to her desk and tell Yuri, "Boy, Grumpy sure is grumpy today." And then she will proceed to tell him what set me off. The sherpa routine, my personality flaws, whatever.

So after that morning's walk to work, Belinda is complaining about what a grouch I am. She tells him all about our walk and lists off what I had to carry, and Yuri says to her in his thick Russian accent, "Belinda, you don't have a relationship, you have a marathon of harassment."

I love Yuri, he is my new favorite person in the whole world.

driving

I am not much of a morning person. It's been a grumpy morning.

I don't know what it is, but every time I get behind the wheel with Belinda at my side, we get into a huge fight. Every time.

Take this morning, for instance. Belinda wants to drive because she didn't get much sleep last night and doesn't have the energy to walk or the patience for the subway. I didn't want to drive, but fine, I can understand that. "Belinda, why don't you take the car, I need to stop off at the market, it's easier if I take the train." "No, I want to go with you."

20 minutes later, we're driving down a two-lane city street and I'm about two cars behind a tow truck. The tow truck is going slow because it's towing someone, go figure. For once, Belinda and I are actually early on our morning trek to work thanks to the car. I'm not in a rush; I'm actually driving like a sane person. All I have to do this morning is go to the store (need to pick up one item for my job), drop Belinda off, and park. No sweat, a nice relaxed morning for once.

I can hear the huffing and puffing of impatience coming from the passenger seat.

"What's wrong?"
"Are you just going to just stay behind this guy?"
"Um, what do you want me to do?"
"I don't know, try going around him?" [Heavy on the attitude here]
"Um, ok, what's the difference?"
"We have to hurry! It's 8:30 and I'm going to be late!"
"Belinda, we aren't going to be late. If you want, I will drop you off at work before I run my errand, OK?"
"No."
"OK, you have two choices. You can either keep your mouth shut and let me drive, or you can drive. Why is it that you don't ever drive? Is it because if you drove, you wouldn't be able to order me around?"

Ah, hindsight...

I really wish I hadn't said that last bit. Too late though, it was out there. This is pretty much the conversation every time we drive. In my defense, I can say that she really never wants to drive. But she is constantly telling me how I'm doing it all wrong.

I am going the wrong way.
I am going too fast.
I am going too slow.
I parked the car wrong.
I parked in the wrong spot.
I parked too close.
I parked too far.
I am shifting wrong.
I am revving the engine too slow.
I am revving the engine too fast.
"Are you paying attention? "
"Why are you in this lane?"
I am scaring her.
I am too close to the line.
"What are you waiting for?"
"You went too soon!"
"You are reckless."
"Oh God!"
"You are making me sick."
And my personal favorite, "I just don't understand."

I used to love driving. I grew up the suburbs and driving was my key to freedom from my parents. When I became of age, I was at the DMV on my birthday getting my license. Even as an adult I used to feel a little bit of that same feeling every time I drove. But no more.

I have tried to encourage her to drive more. I have asked her to drive. I have tried handing her the keys. I have even feigned illness to get her behind the wheel. More often than not, she wants me to drive. Why?!?

She does drive occasionally, and I have to say that I absolutely hate how she drives.