Hooky over. Back to work. Drag drag drag. Actually it wasn’t so bad. If I know I will be confronted with stupidity it usually isn’t such a surprise. But it comes in many shapes and sizes and one never knows what shape it will take. Today was Valentine’s Day. Lot’s of red, plenty of hearts.

Got to the office. Christina, my assistant is in. Jamie the office manager with the bent tulip tells me that when I was out sick, Christina complained about being screwed. Had to work an additional thirty minutes. Jamie mentioned that her attitude wasn’t really ‘fair’ that since the beginning of the year Christina has been out for her knee, her child being sick, visits to the doctors and never once did I complain.

The thing is, Christina is looking to get over somehow. I’ve been carrying her since March of last year, and since I can’t seem to delegate work correctly, I usually do it myself. Which has allowed Christina to shop shop shop. She doesn’t take any initiative and I have to tell her at least once a week to do certain common sense tasks. I usually have to tell her to do something more than once a day, little reminders here and there.

Jamie told me that Christina doesn’t want to work reception anymore (like she does already). Seems she wants to work in the back with the other girls. Jamie agreed that it wasn’t a good idea since she’s incompetent on a few things, speaks a bit too street for an investment bank, and really barely does reception.

An example on how she speaks, “whose book is this?” I ask. Her response, “It’s mines.”
I try to get her to speak correctly, me playing Henry Higgins to her Bronx Eliza Doolittle.
It gets exasperating.

She had the idea that she was going to be working in a compliance capacity, filling in for a law school graduate after the graduate leaves the firm. No, really.

Of course, I had an encounter with the Persian Bitch as well. Not really an encounter. She was too busy talking on her cellphone to actually answer the phone of someone she is supposed to support. I answered the phone, since I get along with the VP she supports fairly well. We just keep giving her enough rope, but no one seems to know what to do with that rope.

I’m sure if it was a monogrammed Louis Vuitton rope she’d know what to do with it. Why do people like Michael Hutchence use rope incorrectly when someone with a lot less to offer the world doesn’t? I was thinking about an INXS song and thought about sad old dumb ass Michael.

One thing I try to do is help various friends out with some various things. Occasionally I procure some items from a Japanese market and purchase them for those that are unable to do it themselves for whatever reasons. So I did that tonight and got burned. Of course I should Count de Monet when I see the friends but I didn’t and found myself short later on at a checkout counter.

I was able to cover it, but mightily annoyed that someone might mistake my kindness for weakness. I hope it wasn’t intentional. They are having a romantic Valentine’s dinner and I am stewing. Like I said I hope it wasn’t intentional.

A Good Morning Moon

Day off. Hooky actually.

Dream about Sienna Babb leaving and giving her a passionate embrace as she was leaving Wanker Banker.

Dream about me breaking ceramic tiles Bill had given out as gifts at Christmas. Accidentally throw bag on the ground and heard the tiles shatter. Spent time trying to piece them back together

Dream about Sarah Fortner going to Columbia University and discussing going to the movies, I insist on seeing ‘My Own Private Idaho’.

Woke up and didn’t feel like going to work. Feeling ok though. Bill just called after having been outside the Lincoln Tunnel for over an hour. Apparently it’s horrific (Bill’s words) and I made the right decision to stay home.

Don’t really care what happens at Wanker Banker and certainly am not going to bust my ass to get into the city and work for a company that is impotent and treats me like shit.

Hoboken is digging itself. Out. Bright and sunny day today. Killing time today before I head into the city for counseling with Bill. Phone calls from Pedro and Julio today. Both very funny in their own way.

Walked to the Path train, which took a little longer than usual due to the large puddles of slush at various corners. This is what didn’t get photographed. The gray mess following. No one wants to see it. Yesterday was pristine, today a gray mess.

Got off at Christopher Street and walked around. I hit a few tobacconists on the way, meekly asking if they had Gauloises. It’s looking scarcer and scarcer. On a whim I walked past the Waverly theatre where there is a large magazine store that used to sell Gauloises when low and behold, the fabled Blue pouches in the rack on the other side of the counter.

I bought whatever they had. Yes I know, I shouldn’t but we’re at war, people! What the two have in common I don’t know but it’s a fact. Plus I saw someone resembling Dick Cheney walking toward me with what looked like a shotgun. I had to act fast.

Walked over to University, elated at my purchase and also for avoiding the Vice President’s gun slinging doppelganger. It was a beautiful night, despite the slush. A lot of people scurrying about in the night. Not many cars, mountains of snow. Met up with Bill and we headed to our counseling session for the evening.

It went well. We were both in good moods and seem to enjoy Philip Beansprout very much. We talked about how we talked about last week’s session last week. (What a sentence!)
The lines of communication are open and that pleased Philip. We talked about words like sensitive, and how Bill initially thought it was a put down when Philip mentioned that Bill was sensitive on some issues. We cleared the air and all agreed that it was a good thing to be sensitive, but communicating one’s sensitivity was just as important.

The session got rather abstract after that, I even mentioned my father. But it ended on a good note. The train ride home wasn’t as sullen as last week, we actually talked and laughed.

I really do love Bill very much. I just dig watching him go about doing his thing. He is my man. Tomorrow he flies off to Detroit. I hope it goes well. Bon Voyage Mon amour.