As you can tell, I'm back!

I am about at the breaking point. Not at the point where I break, but at the point where I start to break things.

First off, I had a crappy day at work yesterday (one good thing: Brian was there and he remembered to be sweet to me), the greatest example of which was when I got a call from a company that was wondering whether we were planning on paying a few invoices, and when I looked them up in the computer I saw that they had accidentally been paid to a different company with an almost identical name almost two months before (and yes, the idiot who did that was meeeeeeee) and God forbid anyone from the Wrong Company noticed or called us, they just skipped blithely off and cashed the cheques.

So I rang the Wrong Company, told the woman that answered the phone that I was calling about some invoices, she switched me to a guy and I explained the entire thing to him at great length. For about 20 minutes I was giving him check numbers and invoice numbers and explaining that one cheque we sent them was for two invoices, one of which did not belong to them, and the second cheque wasn't theirs at all, and he's having me repeat things and clearly is writing everything down and I finally come to the end of this long sad tale, and he says:

"Okay, let me switch you to the person you should talk to!"

People who do that should be eviscerated on the spot.
Anyway, he switches me to this guy, to whom I asked through clenched teeth whether the guy to whom I had just explained everything for half of my life had deigned to tell him a goddamn thing, and he said no, but then asked me if my call had anything to do with such-and-such (I'm not being cagey, I honestly don't remember) and I said no, so he switched me to someone else, a woman to whom I did have to explain everything again. So the sun grows cold as I go over point by point the reasons they should send us back our goddamn money, and she wrote everything down and said:

"Okay, I'm not the person you should speak to."

I was trying to figure out how I could crawl through the phone wires and bite off her thumbs as she said "The person to whom you should speak is not here today, so I will give him this message and have him call you back."

After I hung up I understood exactly how they could have been stupid enough to actually cash cheques that did not belong to them.

And that was only the beginning.

Inet-Images was still gone like the fucking wind, and I rang them in the morning and spoke to an intern named Dimple (what kind of sadistic bastards does she have for parents?) who said that the server would be back up "tonight or tomorrow morning"...strikingly similar to what they told me on Monday.

Kind of like on the subway when they say we'll be "moving momentarily".

So I completely didn't expect it to be back at all, until I got an e-mail from this guy Mickey who asked why I had gone back in time? And I checked my site with fear and trepidation, and found that the entry up was dated 20 June. So I called inet-images and asked Shauna what happened to the back-up that they said they had done right before everything died and she checked and found that the brownouts had erased those tapes and they only had the last backup they had done on the 20th June.

Normally, that wouldn't bug me too much, because I back up all of my text obsessively, but between the 20th June and 1st July I had spent days moving everything into sub-directories and I hadn't backed up alot of my new images which meant getting them again from the web and Lucy. So if anything is still missing here, I'll be getting it soon.

Then I went to the show, foolishly thinking that everything that could possibly happen had already, so it wouldn't matter if I got there at 6.45p...

Ha!

As I walked through the doors, the two moron bitches in the first show said "Say, the wrong set is up!", so with the audience already in the house we trooped on to change the set around (later Camille told me that she had been asking them since 6p if she could help them with their set and they kept saying "No, no, it's alright" apparently thinking that the fairies were going to do it for them.

So I thought "Okay, that's it, smooth sailing from now on", and then that retard actor who had been late the day before went back to the dressing room, trailed by this strange girl. I stopped them and asked if I could help her, and he said "She's with me". I said, with eyes like ice and voice like steel and other such similes,

"She. Can't. Be. Back. Here."

So they scuttled away in terror. Then I gave places to the actors, walked up to the booth to give him a go, and found that the show had already started, because those silly cows had just wandered out on the stage without waiting for the blackout. Exactly like they had been told not to do.

Then nothing disastrous happened for half an hour or so, and I thought all was well. I must stop thinking things like that, because Fred and I walked onstage and our table (supposedly set by Retard Boy) was in the wrong position. About five feet in the wrong position, so Fred smoothly picked it up and moved it into place and we started the show.

The low energy, draggy, lame-ass show.

Personally, I made two major errors--I was late on one entrance and early on another, but the one I was early on was the last line of the show. It goes Donna's line, Fred's line, me, and I cut off Fred without realizing, so he said his line last. Which was just the cherry on the Charlotte Russe.

I went out and people were telling me how good I had been and everything, but I knew it wasn't true. I mean, I was okay, but nothing like as good as I was at tech and opening night. And I was telling Francis the story of my day as he was waiting for Cynthia to come pick him up (he thought that Fred and I were very good, and that the lighting guy had made the mistake at the end, not me, which is a perception that I'm all for) and while I was telling him the stories, I realized that if I went to work today, my head would explode, so I decided to take the day off.

And it was like a weight being removed from my shoulders.

However today is payroll day, so I had to go back to work first to put my time sheets on Diane's desk (and on my way there I ran into my friend Nina whom I haven't seen for a year or two, which was swell) and while I was there I thought I'd try to move some of those goddamn files back into their goddamn sub-directories as it's much faster on the T1, so I hung out for a bit, then Judy was leaving, so I walked out with her.

We were waiting for the downtown train, it arrived seemingly from the wrong direction, but on the right track, so we got on. And ended up in Queens.

At this point I said "This is par. This doesn't faze me one bit. At this point a limb would actually have to be severed for me to even blink in surprise."

Here is the story that sums up the last two days:

John and I were walking down the street to grab some lunch, and there was this long line of kids from a camp or something crossing my path, and there were like thirty of them so I wasn't going to wait, so I cut across the line in front of this little girl, around eight or nine years old, who rolled her eyes and sighed gustily and said "O gawd!" in a loud voice, and I turned to her and said:

"Fuck off, you little bitch."

And that, my darlings, is the story of just how irritated I've been. Sleep well.

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Last Updated Tues 11 August 22:38:09 1998