The one where I get all religious
02/28/2008
So I now understand why people view buying a car as a painful task that one does only when needed. I get why my mom drove her cars into the ground rather than buying a new car every five years. Seriously, car salesmen are a breed unto themselves.
On that note, my new car should be here by Friday. I am so ready for this whole thing to be over, and this thing, as far as I can understand it, has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the car dealership in Reno that was pissed off with the car dealership in Oakland so Reno was refusing to trade cars with Oakland in order for me to get the car that I wanted.
Note to self: issue a fatwah on Reno
Beyond that, well Bruce is much better. He is his normal smiling, bouncy self. I’ve made him schedule an appointment with a doctor at my clinic because it’s been at least 2 years since he saw anyone for something that was not acute. The doctor of my choice has agreed to see Bruce and will in fact expedite the appointment so Bruce will only 3 weeks instead of 6. Yes, my friends, that’s right, I have connections. Too bad my connections don’t also supply Valium. Okay, my connections are kind of lame, whatever.
On the diet front, even though Bruce had a case of uncontrollable spasms, we’ve stuck with the diet and I am a full size smaller. That is the good. The bad is that I now have to go shopping for clothes that fit. I am not at a place where I want to stop loosing weight so I don’t want to invest too much in new clothes but my shirts are way too big and my pants are like clown pants. I think everyone knows what this means: shopping spree at Target! I suspect that $150 will get me two pairs of pants, three button-down shirts and a sweater. This is the greatness of Target. The only danger is if I wander into the health and beauty section. Then I will leave with $300 worth of hair care products and no new clothes.
And now there is news about work. I’ve finally corralled people into admitting that they too drink booze. I’ve organized a night out with a group of women. The email reads as follows: “For those new to this email chain, your names were sent to me by those who care about your liver’s ability to correctly process alcohol. We are running a test of such measure on Thursday March 6 at 4:59 PM at XXXXXX on XXXXXX Street.” This should be the most fun I’ve had in a minute. Also, I intuit that this night will show who can hang and who will go home early. Yay pitchers of Margaritas.
The other news work is that I saved myself by not being totally snarky for once. I sent an email to a doctor about an issue with a report and by proxy the data from the report. Luckily in the email I mentioned twice that the person who wrote the report has already verified the report in several ways and when we run it in a controlled environment the data is correct. The doctor decided that the best way to handle the issue was to send the person who wrote the report an email chain that originated with my email. I swear, if it weren’t for the blessed baby Jesus I would have written something super snarky and the tech who wrote the report in the first place would spend the rest of her time here figuring out how to cut me. Into tiny piece. And then feed me to Piranhas. No really.
I feel like there was something about the whole set up the last time I found this error that made me think that I would get burned if I weren’t careful. The other part of this is that a bunch of people who matter were cc’ed about this problem and at least all I look like is the inquisitive analyst to a bunch of people who matter. Also, if that tech had just listened to me ages ago when I pointed out the error in the data, instead of talking to me like I am some dumb girl who can’t understand SQL, well then maybe all of this could have been avoided. So you can see why I might have been tempted to write something snarky.
And to round out the big three…um Mazel Tov.
That’s all