playing doctor

oh dsl, you fickle bitch... one minute i have you, the next i'm wirelessly tapping into the kindness of strangers... you're so wacky...

so tuesday afternoon was the pre-op physical. 'well, jon, [christ, here we go] my assistant is away on grand jury duty, so forgive me if i fumble through this form. i don't usually do these, you know.' 'you look like the guy who played j. peterman on seinfeld. has anyone ever told you that?' 'has anyone ever told you that you have a great sense of humor? so do i. did you hear the one about the guy who walked into the psychologist's office - they cannot prescribe drugs, jon, by the way, but i sure can *wink* - with a duck on his head...'

and i get through the ekg fine enough, though the technician was a bit perplexed as to why i was being ekg'd. 'they will use a local. are you being put out?' 'oh good lord yes. i don't want to see him, feel him, smell the room, or hear the people. in fact, can you dope me up now?' 'i'll ask the doctor... [one eyebrow up.]'

the doc comes back in, more crappy dad-like jokes are being spewn between questions like, 'do you have any heart disease in your family?' 'yes. my father. a massive heart attack did him in.' 'bummer. speaking of hearts, did you hear the one about the couple whose first date was on valentine's day?'

'do you smoke?' 'well, one doesn't actually smoke crack, just sucks it in and lets it seep up one's nasal passage. so, no, technically i don't smoke.' 'so i'll put in 'prior history of drug abuse?' 'good god no, i'm clearly kidding.' 'jon, medical histories are nothing to joke about.'

?

the most bizarre day

so they finally decide to officially tell us cubefarm bosslady is leaving. see, they announced it to the departments to where she'll be going on friday, but not ours... we just heard from our coworkers. today was the day. vp auntie mame pulls the managers into cubefarm bosslady's office, and starts this verbal masturbation of c.b.'s successes over the last four years and her abilities and aren't they thrilled in joining her in congratulating c.b. on her move to oversee these four departments in the depths of hell. 'and she will miss you terribly, she told me it's bittersweet. didn't you say just that when you found out?' 'yeah.'

and that was that. no speech from c.b., she said nothing other than 'yeah.' as she looked out the window in boredom, counting the minutes she could put our heinous department behind her. then the scandal came out. 'so who will be running the department?' 'big bossman will be the director of this department exclusively.' the scandal: big bossman was the group director of several departments. c.b.'s boss is now our new boss. he's been demoted.

you could have cut the tension with a knife today at work.

but it gets weirder.

they closed the haagen daaz on the corner of my street after a tenure that went on for at least the ten years i've been in new york. yeah, it's cleanliness was questionable, it was only open monday to friday between 12 noon and six p.m., was clearly a front for something, bla bla bla, typical new york crapola. well, one day it just *poof* and closed. i wiped a tear and hoped they'd plop a clothing store or new laundromat (ahem) in there. nope. coming soon: [yet another chain establishment.] great. GREAT. just what the village needs, yet ANOTHER franchise. i vow to never set foot in there, ignore the free samples (peddle your goods elsewhere!), and just be one of those crazy village folks who won't shop in chain stores.

well, walking along my street today to the subway after dinner with mancat, i see a coworker in front of the place, and we talk. 'so, what are you doing here? you are an uptown girl! songs are written about you.' 'can you keep a secret?' 'you've put in your notice!' 'i own this place!' 'you what?' 'i own this place!' 'how do you have time for this and for work?' 'i don't! so don't say anything!'

humanity befuddles me.

after a long day and a short night, i decided that i am ready to just put new york behind me for yet another weekend. the beer hall (or beer haul as it should be called...) in astoria was lovely, but the hangover well until after noon fucked up my day, and i only left my little apartment twice: once to get a wireless router, worth every fucking cent, and once to go to washington square park and be amongst the street performers (annoying), the nyu hipsters (annoying) and the panderers (annoying.) i eventually went home and decided, with mancat, that tonight is a long island night.

and, on yet another ride on the strong island railroad, i've moved my seat about thirty times. my seat choice culminated in one going backwards, i hate that, in front of some guy who has finger nails painted different colors, a self-proclaimed fashionista ('kangol knocks me off') who is 'custom designing' hanes' irregular t-shirts with an orange 'i only use permanent markers' marker. his string has been pulled by my other seat neighbor, a butch gent with muscles, who is a tad slow. a sincerely nice guy, but kind of simple. i cannot tell if he's trying to hit on the fashionista, who has now decided to start sewing, he's so clearly straight... but the butch one mentioned he used to do floral arrangements... i am perplexed. the fashionista has got more of a vagina than most women i know, and he's a very bright guy, albeit odd as shit, but has managed to develop a conversation with the butch one that is most respectable. i like the fashionista, but am genuinely perplexed why the butch one chatted him up.