I'm 34!

Today is The Day! Yep! I'm 34, which is still not a round number, so don't worry if you hear me say I've 35. Either way, I've got greetings and cake and a beautiful gift from one of my penpals... really extraordinaire! Thank You Sonja ♥! She also sent me this utterly hilarious Birthday Card that had me laughing off my chair and making circles on the floor.

My friend Dragonfly-cr, Chuck bless her kind heart, left me a postcard on ther blog, quite awesome, in GREEN, which is my hallmark color, and with a little dragon, my Chinese Horoscope sign. It's so awesome!!!! ^_^

Kari called me at the wee hours of the morning, right when I was rushing and dressing for another day at the office. He was the first one greeting me. ^_^ I'm picky about that, you know? I don't like being greeted or celebrated on a day different than the very day I was born.

... This Post was finished on July 1st. I had waaaay too much stuff to do to finish it. Now, however, I forgot what did I wanted to write. So there.

Arguments and Counter Arguments

Yes, me again, but don't get any ideas! It just that it's not so fair to post in Spanish when the 86% of my readers... well, I believe they don't read in Spanish.Well, not like I'm actually sure who reads me out there, and not like I would really want to know. You, anonymous mass of occult readers stay in your anonymacy! (I think people actually scare me... but that's just a theory sprung out of the moment.)

A fact that can't be denied, though, is that I've been positing a hell lot about my job - well, this crappy new Smart Building we were relocated to - to the point where I'm wondering if I'm turning this blog into a branch of "OfficeSucks", which, yeah, does seems like. Hn, there's this community in the LiveJournal called "coworkerssucks" which I LOVED, as in LOOOOOOVED, since it had the most amazing stories about crappy bosses and abhorrent coworkers you could ever imagine. Great place to go feel good - either by realizing others have worse problems than yours or because you can top them all and post an even more bizarre story. (Tried to locate the site to link you all up, but it's missing. You can still find quite fun blogs of people bitching about their jobs and everything that comes with it.)

Anyway, point this that this blog is about... well... hmmm... So, it doesn't really matter, but the point is that it is not, nor I want to make it a "Bitch About Them" type... though I do that more often than not.

It's like the other day, when I was thinking about my Twitter account and how I would like to make it mean something, only to realize that there's no way I can do that, since no worthy thought can be expressed in 140 characters. No worthy Western thought, that's it, since we don't think (or at least I don't) in riddles and "fit for fortune cookie" sentences. (I kinda forgot where I was supposed to go to with this... Damned Dr. Pepper! His delicious taste distracted me.) So, Twitter remains for me this "comment on the world" thing, where nothing actually "juicy" goes. I've noticed (and therefore unfollowed) some people who use their Twitters to post fortune cookie sentences, or slip little bits of whatever Discovery Channel program they are watching. A question arises in me: "Shall the Twitter be rather original and post stupid stuff like 'I'm having fish for lunch' or shall it be 'smart' and copy great sentences from anyone else?" I love originality, but everybody can do as they want, really, then you reserve for yourself the right to unfollow anyone annoying or stupid enough to stay under the "worthy" cut. I know I do.

Thing is that people tend to be the same way about their blogs, have you noticed that?

So, I was thinking about posting about something else, anything else - since this isn't a fix topic blog -  and though when away from the computer a lot of really good ideas come to my mind, once I'm here I can't think about a single good idea. Do you have the same problem? I certainly don't wish to "impart wisdom" today, I had enough suggesting my coworkers to wreck havoc at the parking lot, and telling them a few sociopath-worthy techniques to do so (yeah, the post in Spanish you may not be able to read... Well, you can always learn Spanish ^_^). I don't feel like going for memories, nor to tell you what I had for breakfast... and soon I should be going to have lunch, if I want to get there before the lines for the microwave start.

Today I thought I would give you a chunk of what I think about random things.

The one random thing I can think of right now is a comment I received yesterday after tweeting a youtube vid of R. Pattinson "smooching" and actor whose name I can't recall right now (nor I'll Google it for your benefit), in amovie called "Little Ashes". I remember I watched the movie because I was thinking that due to its caliber Mr. Pattinson could reivindicate his name in my eyes (the Twilight saga was a major fall from grace in my eyes, and I really-really liked him in Harry Potter), but it didn't work. Dear Chuck, that boy is the most stiff, spastic actor I have ever seen! Makes you think, from the poor way in which he performed his part (I know he was playing Dalí, but he was awkward, visibly uncomfortable and far more unnatural than any part would demand), that he does get his roles solely on his good looks. So, the opportunity to lift his name sunk like the Titanic. Disappointed, I bitched to Carrie, with whom we decided that the only good thing was that this at least trampled things for Twilight fans, with vampie-boy switching sides and cheating on whiney-bitch.

After tweeting the vid, a comment came dismissing it, because "today's teens are 250% sexually open". O...kay? Does this means that... hmmm. No, I don't get it. I guess the idea is that all teens, all of them, no exception, and then some more are... bisexual? Or perhaps that all of them accept gay people? That would be awesome because that would mean that there's no more gay bashing! Oh goodie! (I guess they only bash EMOs now, and that takes a lot of effort.)

So aside from the fact that the point was utterly missed (Dude it was about breaking the love-lock you and your lot has placed on the pairing!), not to mention the blatant overlooking of the guy's acting "skills", it was quite interesting the comment in itself. Interesting since we all know it's not true. Gay kids are still being picked on at school, gay people is still being bashed and trampled, their rights denied. On the other side, and that's also part of the "sexually open views", straight people is still being cast aside, mistreated by their gay piers. Yes, sorry, but I myself have been subjected to reverse discrimination, based on the fact that I happen to be straight.

Thing is that there's still discrimination and where there's discrimination there's also reversed discrimination, and then, when it comes to teens, who are still  people in formation, how much of their points of view are really valid to assert or support a thesis? If their personalities is still in formation, if they don't know who they are, if they are in the age of experimentation, how can their "openness" and their "view" on a topic be asserted as a valid counterargument? Hell, my generation was open to "Satanic religion" back then, does that made those views firm?

When arguing, people should watch carefully the weapons they pick and the duress of them. Dude, that was lame.

Parqueando en Doble Fila

La primera vez que llegamos al edificio y vimos los modernos y superinteligentes parqueos del nuevo edificio, me acuerdo haber pensado „Qué dicha que no tengo carro, porque yo no quisiera quedarme pegada detrás de algún sonajas...” Y bueno, no quiero yo y no quiere nadie, pero diay, así fué como se inventaron los parqueos en este edificio inteligente. Bueno, al menos uno se imagina que tienen un sistema superinteligente para que todo esto funcione. Que cuál es ese sistema super-eficiente e inteligente con el que trabajan, cuando no hay valets oficiales a los que se les deje la llave de los carros que parquean delante de otros para que los muevan en caso de necesidad, y que respondan con la vida por cualquier cosa que le pase al carro, incluyendo rasponcitos en el bumper, eso sólo lo sabe la araña.

Ahí sí vimos que los guardas se afanaron el primer día con boleticas para llegar con el nombre, número de teléfono y placa del carro, para localizar al dueño por cualquier cosa. La idea no sería taaaan mala, o sea que si el carro está atravesado se llama al dueño para que mueva su reluciente y delicado anafre del camino, si no es porque sabemos que los ascensores duran más que una procesión a Cartago desde La Cruz de Guanacaste de rodillas, y que las gradas marean más que un cuarto de madera cerrado y recién barnizado, sin tomar en cuenta el tiempo que le tome al conductor despegarse de la compu, hacer olla con los compañeros, detenerse porque el jefe lo llama para que revisen algo de lo que sea en lo que están trabajando “que es rapidito, sólo unos detalles, pero urge”, y todo eso tan propio del ICE y que no hay edificio inteligente que contrarreste.

Pues resulta y sucede, y esta es una historia verdadera y real y pasó en la vida real, que el viernes el compañero que me ofreció ride a Heredia se quedó atrapado en el edificio hasta las 6 pm. Así es. Bajamos a la hora oficial de salida, llegamos al carro y vimos este Almera color como beige, o champagne o quién sabe qué nombrecito pipirináis le habrán puesto (¿por qué no hay carros de colores decentes como blanco, negro, azul, verde, café?), muy orondamente parqueado en frente del carro del muchacho este, y bien pegadito, como quien parquea acostumbrado a darle para atrás hasta pegar con lo que sea que ya no lo deje moverse más. Como no hay de otra, baja el compañero al puesto de los guardas (porque el carro estaba en el piso 3) para que llamen al dueño de la panga para que la mueva. ¿Y qué creen que pasó? Que resulta que en los guardas no tenían la menor idea de quién será el dueño del carro, mucho menos del número al que se puede llamar para que aparezca el sonajas y quite el estornaco del camino.

Sube el compañero seguido del guarda con un manojo de papeles, como para demostrar que busca pero que igual no encuentra al dueño. El compañero estaba molesto y con mucha razón. Para entonces se había ido el carro de al lado, pero el compañero había parqueado muy cerca de la columna, sin contar con que el Almera prácticamente le parqueó el maletero al compañero sobre el capó.

- Si quiere yo se lo saco – le dijo el guarda, calculando que el carro del compañero es una pulga.

- Sí, - le dijo el compañero - ¿y si me lo raya me lo paga?

No hubo respuesta, sólo una repetición de la oferta.

A mí se me ocurrieron dos de las técnicas “infalibles” que aprendí en tierras muy lejanas. Bueno, para una hubiera ocupado que el piso del parqueo estuviera cubierta de hielo. Así se le hubiera dado vuelta al volante del carro lo que diera (para el lado al que se sale, obvio), se mete el freno de mano y luego el gas a full. El carro derrapa y se sale en 90° . Con esta infalible técnica probablemente hubiera dejado parte del carro en la columna, y al no haber hielo, las llantas en el concreto. La otra infalible técnica - observada en el momento de ser puesta en acción para ampliar un espacio de parqueo -  que el compañero no estuvo dispuesto a ejecutar, era empujar el carro suavecito hasta pegar con el Almera, y luego empujarlo fuera del camino. Claro, pega si el Almera tiene el freno de mano puesto, pero eso no es nada que una  fuerte pata’e chancho no pueda arreglar. (Por aquello, cuando traiga carro, ya saben NO SE PARQUEEN FRENTE AL MIO.) Nos quedamos un rato esperando al dueño del carro pero nada. La pregunta a esas alturas era ¿quién será ese desgraciado hijo de vecino que trabaja hasta tarde un viernes?

Marinados en rabia, el compañero y yo subimos nuevamente al 15, donde buscamos en el Registro Nacional al dueño del anafro, luego en el directorio del correo y le mandamos un amable correo, todo en mayúsculas para que moviera la carcacha. Como no hubo respuesta al correo, y buscando evitar plantar el primer fantasma en el edificio - porque ya el compa lo iba a dejar hecho ceviche - , bajé piso por piso buscando al individuo. Cuando llegué al 10, finalmente encontré a alguien que lo conocía y que me dijo – media hora después que le enviamos el correo – que recién acababa de bajar. Traté de alcanzarlo para decirle hasta de lo que se va a morir él y toda su descendencia, pero cuando llegué al parqueo se había esfumado él y la lata que maneja.

Ya cuando se me fue pasando el enojo (ayer), me puse a pensar qué pasaba si ponía la queja. Si le digo al tipo del Almera que vergüenza le debiera dar ser tan inconsciente, y que si no es capaz de ser responsable con la carreta que maneja mejor usa el bus, total ese no lo tiene que parquear, se me ocurrió que, con mucha razón el chamaco me puede decir que a él nadie le avisó, que él dejó los datos (si los dejó) y que él asumió que si el carro estaba estorbando lo iban a llamar para que lo moviera. Total, si a la gente se le olvida en qué piso parquea, ¿cómo no se le va a olvidar si lo dejó enfrente de otro carro? Si le reclamo a los guardas, lo que me van a decir es que a ellos les pagan por ser guardas, no por parquear carros, y que ellos cumplen con recoger las boletas, que si no las llenan eso ya es responsabilidad del usuario. Obvio podría ponerle la queja al arquitecto por ser tan bestiburro de inventarse parqueos como esos, pero si no se me ríe en la cara me va a decir que cómo se organicen es cosa del ICE. Podría decir le al ICE, claro, pero entonces o me dicen que es culpa de los guardas o es culpa del dueño del Almera, o nos mandan un correíto hablándonos de cómo van a hacer “más eficiente” el parqueo con un nuevo plan piloto. Probablemente nos dicen que es un caso aislado. Uhum. Caso aislado. ¿Y si hay una emergencia?  -  Llamate al 911, ¿o qué? ¿Sos la Cruz Roja? - ¿Y si me tengo que ir porque se me enfermó alguien en la casa?  - ¿Y vos sos el médico? No, no, llamate al 911 y volvé al trabajo - ¿Y si resulta que me dieron permiso para ir a hacer un examen a la U? - Le explicás al profesor, total siempre son comprensivos -  ¿Y si tengo que llegar a tiempo para dar clases? - Llama y le dice a los estudiantes que lo esperen. Total, es un caso aislado -  ¿Y si hay que ir a recoger al mocoso que salió más temprano de la escuela? - Mande al marido -  ¿O si la muchacha que cuida a los chamacos se tiene que ir a una hora determinada para la casa? - Que se los dejen con su mamá -  ¿Y si tenemos que llevar a uno de los tatas al hospital para que le hagan unos exámenes que está esperando desde hace dos años? - No sea tan agarrado, la Clínica Católica tiene muy buen servicio y no tiene que esperar tanto -  ¿Entonces qué? ¿Traemos tequila y sal porque nos toca chuparnos un limón?  - Mirá, no se puede porque no se puede consumir alimentos ni bebidas en el edificio, sólo en el piso 2 -

Como nadie va a cargar con las culpas, nadie se va a hacer responsable, me parece que es hora de que nosotros tomemos cartas en el asunto. Simplemente lo que hay que hacer es NO PARQUEAR en los campos del fondo. ¿Y si sólo hay de esos? Facilísimo, parqueamos en el de afuera y que cuando se llene el parqueo nos llamen para mover el carrito para que ese otro soplas sea el que parquee atrás. Eso o le ponen al carro uno de esos mataburros que vienen ya con todos los animales que se han levantado en el camino incrustados, y si tienen que salir, sin ninguna pena aplican la técnica “déle un empujoncito al compa de enfrente” (no olvide complementar su confiable mataburros con una buena pata'e chancho para los caso dificilitos). Con suerte eventualmente mandarán al parqueo a la escuela para que se ponga inteligente, como el resto del edificio, o se pondrá tan tonto como los parqueos que teníamos antes, que con todo y todo nos funcionaban de maravilla.

*copied fom an e-mail sent this morning by me.

New Book

Today I started reading Asa Larsson's "Solstorm" (Sunstorm) novel. In Spanish, you mind, as I couldn't wait for the bookstore to get it on English at least. Naturally my chances at reading it in Swedish are zero since I don't know any Swedish save for a very few words that wouldn't get me anywhere in the world. (Two posts in a day! Wow! Well, hold your horses Sunshine, today's topics were not to be mixed, in order to keep sense in them. That's why. Don't go wetting yourself on me.)

The book is about murder, which is something that's bound to pick my curiosity. From the first pages I start deeply disliking the way in which the things are described. Too stiff, too prepared, too... unnatural. Sure, still gara see how this goes on, but so far it has had some writing (or perhaps translating) mistakes that makes the reading a bit distasteful.

Well, I'll keep you posted. Oh yes, and about the "Dorian Grey" book, I'm calm now, so I should be able to start the critique of that one too.

Beware What You Wish For

In a few days I'll have my Birthday. Yeah, one of my favorite days of the yeah... probably My Favorite Day of the whole year. It's the Day of Me. Birthday, of course means presents and booze, and sometimes someone comes up with some cake or something of the sort, which is really not all that important to me, as I place the weight of the celebration on what really, really, really matters: booze. No Booze, No Birthday. This is one of the perks of being finally over 18, and so I'm living it to the fullest for as long as I have a liver or any other ways, original part, transplanted or artificial to drain my body. What can I say? I'm a lass with her priorities in place. ^_^

I'm usually not the kind of person who asks for gifts or tells people what she wants to get. Nah, that's not me. It has been known to happen - like this year when I asked my folks for a car, but then again, it was now or never - but I usually prefer people to come up with something by themselves, if they feel like they want to give me something. Totally love these surprises, specially because these gifts tell you a lot of what the person who gives it to you thinks about you.

Okay, there's one thing I must admit I ask for, and give specific directions: fanfics. Yep, those I order. Snockhart, NC-17, Wincest NC-17 Third Season Fandom, and so on. But other than that I like to be surprised.

However it has been said that I'm a person quite difficult to please in the gift-sense since I have an expensive taste and, add to it, I always buy myself everything I want, so what could you possibly give me that I haven't already bought for myself? So I have made lists of ideas about what's a good gift idea, and so on. The 3B's are always a good way to go: Books-Booze-Boxes. I love books, I love booze and I have a thing for boxes I can't explain. Oh, BTW, I have no coffins, in case someone would like to come up with something cool and unique. Doesn't have to be a coffin-coffin, since those are expensive and I wouldn't have a place to put it, but coffin shaped boxes could be cool.

So, aside from my folks, who seem to have an exceedingly hard time picking up a gift for me, my dear boyfriend is another clueless litle sheep who needs the help of the sheppard to get on the good road regarding gifts. Then again he's a hopeless case that couldn't pick a gift for himself if he had to. Now, to be honest, his first gift was great: a Montblanc fountain pen. Then, his Christmas gift was less than perfect, so for this year we decided that help was needed. And so I picked a blouse. A traditional blouse. I had already asked my folks (before I went for the car) for a Matyó blouse, but I asked one from him anyway. Since he pointed out that I was going to get one from my folks, I decided to put into the formula an extra profit. You see, I want him to improve his German. To do so he must practice, to practice he must talk with others in German. To do so he must go where people speaks German. For that he could go to Vienna. Since it would take a natural disaster for him to go there, I decided to "nudge" him in the right direction: I asked for a traditional Austrian blouse. He agreed.

Wee!! I was happy! He didn't complain and he would go there and practice German. Thing is that I wanted to know what have I asked for, since I was actually imagining some pretty white blouse with pretty embroidery, kinda like what Kate Beckinsale wears in "Van Helsing"... minus the crippling corset and the coat. You know, some nice, hippie-like flax blouse in some soft color, with monochromatic cross stitched embroidery of undefined forms and so on. Perhaps with fluffly sleeves or lovely short sleeves or something. Either way, the important thing was that I've got away with what I wanted and I would have him speak German, since obviously I wasn't going to be there with him, so he couldn't rely on me doing all the talking... as he usually does, which doesn't please me at all.

However I really, really had no idea excatly what would I get, so I went to the trusty Internet and sought out what the hell had I asked for. Well, sadly, I did found a picture of what I asked for, and it wasn't what I wanted.

Yeah, no wonder he wasn't complaining. Once I found out I called him and told him to forget it. I'm not wearing a low clivage Oktoberfest blouse! Not only because I feel really uncomfortable with low clivage clothes, but also because I have nothing to fill that clivage with! So, since my folks are off the Matyó blouse due to the car, my boyfriend is on the Matyó blouse. Interestingly he did issued a complaint about the gift changing, claiming "it isn't that bad or that low the clivage".

Men.

Feeding The Masses

Everyday more and more people move into the Babel Tower. Today was quite great for me as I saw many of the people I used to work with the first time I entered into this company, some 7 years ago. My goodness! All my good all acquintances and friends! It was like a school reunion! :-) This was the bright moment of the office-day, you see, as Today our Smart Building show us how "smart" does not equal "efficient", "right" or even "functional".

Ros, one of my trusty coworkers picked me up today at the wee hours, when only the factory workers go around catching the first buses of the day. We made it to the office even before the traffic lights had all their three colours on, and the second floor of the parking lot was already half occupied. All the good places were nearly taken. The elevators were good at that moment of the day, waiting only some 7 minutes for them to drag their asses from wherever to the Lobby. Once up, we made the insane idea of going to a local store to pick up some coffee. Well, the elevator was taking longer. Add to it, when we came back, we had to wait 20 minutes for the elevator as it kept going all the day to the 2nd floor stopping there and then going back to the 16th floor. It never reached the Lobby. The technicians were trying to implement a solution for the already collapsed elevator system by assigning each of the 4 elevators to given floor groups, but our wasn't working. Why? The "Smart Building" was rebelling, and the Central Control wasn't working. Oh Goodie.

An elevator "not assigned to our floor group" and personally operated by a technician took us in, since "there was no demand at the moment". The elevator, designed to fit 13 people (so says the panel) and 1000 Kg (so say's the pannel) couldn't take 10 people, and so 3 of them had to leave the elevator and keep waiting. Oh, before you say, why don't they take the elevator, this is from the Lobby (first floor) to the 15th and 16th floor... on uneven, dusty stairs.

By noon you had to wait only around 10 minutes for the stupid thing to get to your floor, so you can use it, since the "smart plan" was an absolute failure. Once at the diner, which is, ALLEGEDLY the only place where we can eat and drink, and when questioned, the coordinators of the moving, with experience in HHRR say that it is where you MUST eat because it is the only healthy way to do it, you must stand in a line from to 1525 minutes to get to the microwave. Oh, there are 6 of them, and they are supposed to serve 220 people every 45 minutes ((220*2)/6 = 73 minutes, 20 seconds, which is about 28 minutes and 20 seconds more than the time alotted to lunch. Average people heat their food for 2 minutes. Here I candidly assume people heating only one recipient of food, which often is not the case here). No coffeemaker, no microwave, no nothing is "allowed" at the floors. Food shall be srtored, heated and consumed only at the diner.

These pictures were taken today at the microwaves at 11:45 am.

Perhaps I should mention that up to today only the 30% of the building's total population has moved it.

Naturally this means having lunch out or bringing cold food for lunch, such as sushi, onigiri, ceviche, sandwiches, snacks, boiled eggs, crackers-and-caviar (I wish), bread-sausage-onion, or military self-heating lunch bags.  Also, there's the option of investing in a food thermos, in case you can't leave without a hot lunch, but can't afford eating out everyday. Kinda sad, though, remembering how at our old place we only had to wait until our food was heated up. Kinda weird also, because I honestly rather have unhealthy practices such as eating at my work station than wasting my lunch time, not to mention grow far more hungry, on waiting for an elevator that appears less than the President in the slums and then for microwaves  before which queues form only seen before at free health care centers.

Yep, I might now nothing about HHRR, but I like eating at my workstation, listening to my music and reading a good book, or sharing with my coworkers, far better.

Eitherway, after today's events, it becomes perfectly clear, and I can safely say that it may be retrograde of me, but I like dumb houses and buildings better.

Prohibition and Contrabando

Some say that Laws are made to be Broken. I don't agree with that. However, STUPID RULES are set with the only purpose of being trashed and broken. This is the particular case of the Coffee PROHIBITION Rule brainlessly set in the Babel Tower by the Assistents and Change Managing and Moving to the New Building Committee... or something of the sort. Yeah, do you remember that show, "Malcom in the Middle"? Yeah, and the opening song? "You are not the boss of me"? Yeah, would like to download it and play it each and everytime the hags do their "rounds" to make sure "people are abbiding to the law". Yeah, they do that. As a matter of fact, one of our Assistent commented how she saw "people" (namely our little Covenant) breaking the rules and bringing coffee in thermos. The result? By Today in the morning the number of thermos in the cubicles grew over night exponentially.

Coincidentally all of these conspicuous thermos seen around kind of seemed as if they cointained "contrabando". People who have never been seen with a thermos suddenly had them perched on their desks, also coincidentally next to a mug stained with old brownish stains... the kind many years of coffee pouring do to the sturdy porcelain. It seems that the "strategy to shame the infractors" worked "agains the system", pushig up to then rule-abiding-employees to commit contrabando crimes. Stainless steel bullets tower up here and there, some even brought pitchers and then older model coloured plastic thermos also pop up here and there. 

Then, to add insult to injury, my boss, the Lord bless his kind soul, strolled into our alley, coffee cup in hand and slowly, very visibly, sat down with us to chat and share some improvised breakfast of cookies and coffee. He did not made a secret out of the fact that he WAS drinking coffee HERE with us, but happily anounced it to anyone willing to listen. Chuck, I do have the best boss of the whole company. Yes, you are invited to envy me. :-)

Well children, lets be honest, which office in the PLANET works without coffee? It's like a bar that doesn't sell beer: it does not exist. You can take away the breakfast on the desk, you can take away the office walls, you can take away the privacy, you can take away the parking lots, the vending machines, the better schedules, the printing machines, the printing rights even, the personalization of the space, the safety features, but cannot take away the coffee, because when it comes to it, we are all jittering Hoopses&Yoyos here.

And so the People rebelled against the System and presented their silent protest, making a blatant statement of the ground they would defend, the turf they will not give up. Yes, we acknowledge that you are stupid and your leveled self esteem demands you to bully others in order to feel, if not good about yourself, pretend that you are still more than others, so be it, but coffee is Sacred. You touch it and we will exterminate you.

Bullies and Mobbing S.O.B.'s

Well, we have moved into the new building, finding more dysfunctional stuff, like doors that wail everytime someone opens them without sliding the office ID's (how do you call those?), or if the door doesn't close well after us (which happens with the door of the 16th floor), not to mention dusty stairwells that trigger asthma and allergies like nobody's business and the elevator that's too lazy to go up all the way to the 15th, and so goes up to 14th or sometimes up to 4th and then goes back down.

In case you wonder, I put on a small Art Nouveau poster and a picture of sorts of Lau, Roo and I. The "take a chill pill" picture, one of me favorites, will hopefully become a @mygeekpillow. Let's see how that comes out, though. Work in general is comming around, with people trying to find their place and their way in the new environment, many of us mostly stepping up to defend our "coffee rights". Yeah, "Coffee Rights". We have "food bullies" at the office that want to eliminate every trace of food and eating-in-cubicles out of a whim, really, as no real or decent reasons have been given to us about why should be give up such a rooted habit.

It's amazing, really, how deeply laced mobbying is in the office. I mean, I have an AWESOME boss, as in, really, envy me, my boss is the greatest and my coworkers are amazing, BUT there are amazingly annoying people, who assume powers they don't have to command others around. Not like they are empowered, specially because nobody is empowered for abuse, but they bully people into their will.

Bullies and mobbers are coward people who would never stand up for their words. Why? Well, they never put nothing on written, specially because if they do they would leave a track of their abuse and could be reported. They seek to become powerful, to command and feel they have control over others, feel obeyed by others, and irrational measures are they way to do so.

Often it is difficult to get over them, and sadly for many, letting them get their way doesn't cut you some slack, but eggs them to escalate their bullying. So, the only way is to put a stop to it. My recommendation is to ally against them with the rest of your coworkers and ignore their taunting, eventually facing them if they don't take the "I'm ignoring you because you are just a fly on a window pane". However if you are alone, this is a few things you can do:

1. Document the abuse. I recommend to get an appointment with the office doctor, hopefully get a reference to psychology so that the documenting of the situation has a more "solid", "scientific" prove as well, that will give you all the tools you need for a transfer. Private or Public enterprise, remember that a note on your file of being a bully and an abusive person always looks bad. Oh, and files go everywhere with you.

2. When the bully or the mobber comes and does his or her thing, you must smile, let them speak and then politely request them to put all that in written. You don't move a muscle unless it is on written. If pressure is on, before you do anything, you send on written a message were you detail the whole thing and request IN WRITTEN confirmation if you have it right.

3. Remember that a bully boss or not, is a person just like you and they make mistakes, so don't be intimidated. Always keep your calm. If they start to fight, you keep calm and look into their eyes. If they take too long, look away, check your SMS or something. The bully will probably raise the voice about that. You calmly say that you are waiting for him or her to calm down so you can talk in a civilized matter. ATTENTION: the key word is "civilized". Do not say "human" or "like people". Always speak calmly and evenly. If the shouting concert continues, excuse yourself and go to the bathroom. Do not wait for permission, nor stop at any word. You are an adult and you are going to the bathroom. Take at least 10 minutes, which shall suffice to calm down the  banshee at the office.

4. If your bullies are your coworkers, always smile, be nice and bring homemade cookies or brownies. It's nearly impossible to hate someone who brings you food. :-) Always be nice, but if they don't change, talk to your boss and request a transfer from the office. You don't need to win all your battles, but you don't have to suffer other people's bullying.

The Day of the Moving

Yep, we are moving. Moving to the dreaded Telecommunications Tower, affectionately called by our several Unions as "The Babel Tower". Nope, no Brad Pitt... actually the only pits there are the stairwell pits. Yep, pits. The orders and directions of the moving keep steadily changing, as the Director's Assistant keeps changing our cubicles almost on whim (I have been assigned to six different cubicles in less than 24 hours). We were also ordered to go to the new buidling and stay dare and do nothing until the end of the day. Our boss, Chuck bless his soul, told us to ignore that order and leave home at noon, so we do something productive... somewhere. I totally love my boss. Really, I do. I mean, I have the coolest, most awesome boss of the entire company. He is the Flying Cookie. :-) If you have ever doubted that I am BLESSED and that, yeah, God personally takes care of me and loves me like crazy, think again in the light of these proves. :-)

So, back to the moving, we were all alotted two boxes to pack up our junk. Naturally I needed more. How many more? I needed five boxes. Where will I pack all that? Fret it not, I am one of those few people in the planet that seem to be able to break physical laws and put two bodies in the same space at the same time.... or something like that. Yeah, not when packing, but I have "The Gift". So yesterday I boxed the whole office, and Today just picked up the remaining files and posters from the wall. I had to pack the phone, which explains why am I unreachable. Thanks Chuck I have a laptop to work with, or right now I would be running in circles singing Credence Clearwater Revival's Cotton Fields song. Two days in a row so far and I keep singing it.

Don't you like it? I love it.

Since I'm downgrading from an office to a cubicle (again) gara think of a way to decorate, new posters to get and paste up, since my posters are too big. An idea that came to me was to custom make them, only I'm not sure what I'm planning would be "acceptable". I mean, how would you take a poster in a cubicle that says:

See what I mean? Which would you pick? (I'm sure no one would pick the Salomon Seal, also known  as the Devil's Trap.)

Chillin'

This is one of those days I don't really like. It's a hot day. Too hot for my liking, and going hot during the morning is a sure way to make a day not my kind of day. Yes, I know, I have bitched about the hot days a lot, and guess what? I'll keep doing it, so if you don't like it, go read some other blog! Nobody is forcing you to read this one! (Well, heat got to me officially. I'm in such an unsufferable mood I pick fights with... nobody.)

There's a lot of work to be done in this week, and - as it should be - none of it is really some easy pie. I'll have to wrestle again with a project for which my best and most honest recommendation is "file it and behead all those involved with the idea", yet I still have to make this surface one way or the other. Thanks Chuck I have an idea about what could be done, but for it I'll need "input". Do I have those "inputs"? I do not. Oh Goodie. But looking at it from the bright side, it's just Monday morning, and I have until Friday to work some magic on the proposal. Ideas? Well, I just hope I won't have to make use again of the Nauthilus Spiral to get things done.

Good thing is that I'm off the loop with another project, which I took home on Friday and spent all weekend working on. It wasn't easy, it wasn't small, but I managed. To my utter delight, today as I presented it to my boss, he was happy with it, quite pleased and decided that not even a comma should be changed. This lifted my spirits, not to mention that by having this done, some layers of work will be shaved off my in-tray. Right now a slim in-tray would make me happy, but that's not my case, specially when I have a deadline for a project, to be done by Friday, and there's another one that's "Super-Urgent" according with two different areas outside our area, not to mention the other scattered 3 projects that loom in the shadows over there, some of them taken over by people in whose capable hands I don't quite put all my trust. so yeah, that's my share, and top it all with the possible moving to the Babel Tower in this week, which won't be as pleasing as I would hope, specially since there have been quite some Earthquakes in these days and though in the second floor they feel horrible, in the 15th they should feel even worse.

So this is the moment when you grab your coke by the neck and pour some into your gutter. Sure feels good. Then it doesn't matter how long the day takes to cool off, because it does. It doesn't matter the workload you've on your back or your in-tray, because you will get ahead of it sometime. It doesn't matter either because I've a great boss, not some moron with a dysfunctional pea-brain, like the one I used to have (who now torments some of my friends, all hiked up on the fact that they are naive fresh meat, right from the private market grinder, and would do his obnoxious bidding in the same overly exploited slave-driving fashion Chinese slave work force does). So this is when I pop out of those magical chill pill, take it and let the world grow groovie. My chill pill is my coke and a nice vid to slow down the rush. What's your chill pill?

Things I Would Like to Do - A List

Here's me again shamelessly copying the ideas for entries from my good and adorable friend Drangonfly, who is nice and adorable, and beautiful like nobody else in the world, the girl with the most charming smile and charitable temper, who would never, EVER get mad at me for so shamelessly copying her posts. Yeah, uh, well, but other than the evident attempt to apease her from the copying, I do believe all that about her. Libe, as I cyberly-lovingly call her, is beautiful inside and out.

Well, the thing is that she did this "Things I would like to do" list, where you make a list of things you'd like to do or you like, or you enjoyed doing. Kinda like a "Bucket List" but also includes things you've done already. I, myself, am not much of a fan of bucket lists, as I believe you should just do the things you want to do, when you want to do them and don't hope and dream and expect a miracle will take you there. (Then again I still have some "gara get these before I die" things in my to-do list.) So let's get the show on the road.

Bunny's Like-2-Do List

1. Fly on first class (had, but as a courtesy of the plane for losing my connection)
2. Stay in a five star hotel (had. More than once.)
3. Join the High Mile Club (had, and it was awesome! Oh, and with the crew, nontheless. Extra points for that.)
4. Pick up a French Flight Attendant (oh yes. Been there, done, that and Rock the Kashba as I did!)
5. Enjoy freedom and independence (Yep, and it was as good as I expected it to be)
6. Buy stuff and don't care about the price or the end bill (Have, which is why I now valiantly wrestle my credit cards)
7. Buy my own appartment (still gara get there)
8. Get an awesome classic car - Mustang, Firebird, Impala, GTO (well, that seems to slip between my fingers)
9. Go to Russia, specially Moscow (old thing of mine. Haven't done it, but now I'm in no hurry to get there.)
10. See the original work of Alphonse Muchas (done. Beautiful!)
11. See the original work of Gustave Klimt (done. Breathtaking.)
12. See the original Chat Noir by Alexander Steinlein.
13. Visit Paris (done)
14. Visit Vienna (done)
15. Visit Sofia (done)
16. Visit the Monastery of Rila (still gara get there)
17. Visit the main locations of Vlad Tepes' history in Rumania, particularly Tirgoviste, Poeanri and the Snagov Island.
18. Go to Hungary (done repeatedly)
19. Never marry (working hard to keep this one up!)
20. Never have children (working really hard to keep this one up!)
21. Have an amazing job as an Economist (done)
22. Work with Economical Development (haven't, though our thesis is in those lines)
23. Write a book on Economics. Publish a theory (been working on that, my theory of how money affects happiness.)
24. Publish at least one novel (have written a lot, but haven't published anything, except for the stuff I've published on the net.)
25. Learn to shoot guns, shotguns and arrows (haven't)
26. Learn Medieval History - European, mind you (Been doing some, but I want to really, really get into it.)
27. Learn logic, but the version prior to the Informatics boom.
28. Speak German (working on it, but never really getting anywhere so far... except when I'm in Vienna)
29. Speak Russian (same us the german, only less...)
30. Speak Bulgarian (just researching so far)
31. Speak Arabic (haven't)
32. Speak Chinese... two of them: Mandarin and Cantonese (none of them yet)
33. Speak Japanese (speak so little it's meaningless)
34. Speak Korean (none of it)
35. Speak all European languages (that's big, and so far I have only ... 4?)
36. Sew my own clothes. Well, basically get the skills to make all the clothes I want, since often I have this idea about what I want, but fashion doesn't seem to think about the same pieces I do.
37. Break the NC-21 barrier when it comes to writing fanfiction (did. I'm the queen of the genre... so I say and so I see.)
38. Die from a heart attack (still gara get there)

... well, it's kinda edited here and there, but I guess that's pretty much it. Doesn't look all that bad, now does it?

Fire Has Never Been so Welcomed

Yes, this is about White Collar, and it will probably be seasoned, sprinkled and generously dashed with SPOILERS and all sorts of SLASHY comments, like the could be any other kind of comments regarding this  "Oh dear, I love it so much" series. I mean, I've been checking out Dr. House, and it is catching me, and no little merit on that goes to no other than Hugh Laurie - amazing how good can that man look - and yet still, White Collar... it got me hooked. But then again, you've already knew that.

For WEEKS now I've been hooking on Fox Channel every Tuesday night to peek at Mr.Hot and Mr.Good do what they do best: come up with all kinds of unseeming plots only to repeat every once in a while how Neal will get canned if the suspect isn't (kinda like "there will be an arrest, no matter who, but there will be one"), Peter has some trust issues with Neal, but can't live without him and goes ignoring his wife more than what's healthy (it spells CRUSH with capital letters for me), while Neal keeps rubbing up to him, all smiles and puppy eyes (Sam Winchester would have a thing or two to learn from him), suffers like some maiden locked in a tower (and he is... kinda locked in a tower) everytime Peter doubts him, and does everything in his power - legal, ilegal or borderline - to please him. All this while kept on a leash, which up to this point he seems to enjoy greatly. Then now, as you are eased into the series, things get... warmer. Personal space gets reduced almost to strict bodily occupied space, as they are constantly so on each other's face as if they were trying to physically fit a 15' TV screen. They are often so close to each other that the only way to look into each other's eyes is by crossing them.

Not that I mind.

Then comes "the speech". Subtext is quickly replaced with Neal confessing his absolute and greatest "trust" in Peter... even above Kate. If you are an otaku, a manga reader or a yaoist (or all at once), this particular scene may have taken you back to one so many shojo mangas where the weakened/drugged (yeah, because Puppy-boy was tripping on chill-pills) half confesses his or her love to the Hero or Heroine of the story. All slashers of the world, I'm positive, sneered "Trust... suuuuuuuuuuure". All wholesome, family-centered, Republican, homophobes probably either turned off the TV and sore not to watch that pack of fruit cakes ever again, or performed extreme denial-reasoning procedures on their brains, hoping to convince themselves that Neal is evil and he's so stupid he thinks he can seduce Peter the same way he picks up chicks, and yeah, he's probably Democrat... but this is not a gay scene.

Then comes Peter ruffling up Neal's hair and Neal letting him like the good little boy he is. And Peter chops off a big chunk out of their personal space, and Neal kinda clings to his side, and Peter comes even closer, and then Peter totally ignores Elizabeth, Chuck bless that slasher woman's heart, and Mozzie runs with messages from Neal to Peter, and Neal worries about the words Peter says to him, and Peter can't care less for anything, brushed off his wife, but at the sole mention of Neal, he drops everything and charges ahead.

Plot thickens because in the most classic slasher fashion there is one episode where oh-dear, Peter must go live with Neal. A question comes to my mind: Do they have J.L. Langley on the payroll? Here quoting Bobby Singer from Supernatural "Vegas' money is on Yes".

A lot of moments go by, mostly gestures, attitudes, half words and stuff of the sort, enough to keep up the slasher bonfire, but not so much that would either create so much expectation you would necessarily have to get them in bed and rename the series "Gay Collar". After all, you gara keep the promise to the wide audience, and this is a series about a thief, an conterfeiter working with the FBI.

Then comes the season's last episode, a clear promise of a second season, and boy if I am not waiting for it with great impatience and deep hunger. Loose ends kind of seem to get tied, only to untie others even more twisted, pack the plot with as much questions and potential as it can take, get the box, give the box, say the standard good-byes... ask Elizabeth about who she and Peter... and the question in the mind of all (since Elizabeth answers about how she knows Peter is her one), is whether Neal is questioning is feelings about Kate... and about Peter? Yeah, yeah, blame it all on the slasher eye... whatever, and then in the last scene, Peter catches up with Neal and does his best to convince him to stay. Kick Kate's butt and stay with him. Neal visibly wavers, doubts and his resolution is as firm and set as custard, yet still decides to go. Peter then asks him why is he the only one he didn't say good-bye to.

"Because you're the only one who can change my mind."

I'm sure I have read that in so many yaoi stories... yeah.

A smile, a contented, happy, smile.

"Am I?"

That doesn't go with an answer. Peter tries again, pleads his case, tells him that he has people there, he has a place and Neal walks off, stops and seems truly tortured, thorn between his... love? A matter of Peter or Kate to choose from, and it nearly seems as if he's going to choose Peter, or he would choose Peter but he has decided long ago for Kate, who is the one who got him break out of prison and risk everything for love, when (and here I remember Agent Hendricks from Supernatural, now Wilkes in White Collar) the jet he was about to board, where Kate was waiting for him (and I hope she really was in there!) explodes in a bliss of golden fire. Quite an explotion and quite a mass of flames for such a tiny plane.

Neal screams and goes berserk, Peter holds him from behind, restrains him and keeps him safe, which is quite metaphorical as that's what he always does, that's his role: worry for Neal and so restrain him, keep and eye on him to keep him safe.

If we are all lucky, Kate will go to the roasted-chicken hell or heaven, I don't care, but won't pull a Winchester and will stay dead. If we are lucky we will have another season with Neal and Peter and more of this "closing on each other" thing that's going on. If we are really lucky, Alex will be the next to die, and will do so soon. After all, like I told Carrie today over the phone: "Supernatural hardly has any more women on the cast, but you don't see the fans complaining!". After all, if you wanna see women, watch The L Word.

Really, Tuesday is my favorite day. Today... NCIS: Los Angeles. Time to see Chris O'Donnell and L L Cool J hit it. Odd but there my ultimate favorite, like I've told you before, is Linda Hunt in the role of Hetty Lange. I mean, Chris and LL go out of their way to make slashy remarks and sometimes pull slashy stunts, but still Hetty is there the star. You rock, Girl!

Pictures of My History

If you follow Dragonfly's blog (and you should, even if you can't read Spanish, trust me, th pictures are simply amazing!), you would know about the Friday's "Pictures with History" section, where she shows scanned pictures of her and her family from the past century. You know, from the good ol' days, from the days of real American Cars, wholesome families, morals, values, the flag, the Home, the day the music died and all that. Well, it happens that there are some pictures of my Mom and my Dad that are simply so beautiful I was overcome with this intense egotistical feeling to share them only to make people envious ^_^. And so, after so much thinking, and pondering, yesterday I grabbed one of the photo albums and brought it here, where I scanned some of the pictures to share with you all.

You see, for me my Mom is just beautiful, even now, but the pictures of her young are downright breathtaking. So I'll leave you now with the pictures.

This is a picture of Mom, my aunt and their best friend at Balatonalmádi. You look at this picture and you immediatelly think: "Wow! Hotties!" And they were! Hungarian women are definitively gorgeous. ^_^ Good I'm one too!

That's not my Mom, that's my Aunt, and the thin refugee looking dude is my Dad. My brother is just as bony too. Now Dad put on some weight, but that was him, eating normally.

Regarding my Aunt, I have had always the feeling that she has some princess like quality about her features. Mom is more like the fair maiden in the romance verses of the Middle Age, like Ximena from the Mio Cid, but my Aunt is like the beautiful princess from the Grimm fairy tales.

This is my favorite picture of my Mom. Dad took this at the Margit Island. Isn't she simply marvelous? Oh, and that's all her real hair, in case you think she was using a wig. Nope, that's all my beautiful, beautiful Mom. *filled to the brim with pride*

This is my Mom as a bride...

and these are my folks at their wedding picture. For me they both look just dreamlike! (Yes, that hottie in black is the same refugee drift you saw in the picture with my Princess Aunt.) I do have good looking parents!

Then now come the pictures where Yours Truly appears for the first time. No, no early Baby Playboy pictures! (Kari asked me the same thing, but I won't be showing those, specially because I was constantly throwing temper tantrums .... yeah, still do.) So here I come.

Mom and I at the hospital, the day I was born... or around those days (June 30th, 1976. Ahhh, wasn't that the best day of the world?). Yep, I was born with a huge, thick mane of hair that never fell off. Brother and I have always had this "Lion King" look.

Ah, family! Lemme see: those are from left to right my Maternal grandmother's dad, my Maternal Grandmother (from whom I've got my name) my Maternal grandmother's mom, my Mom, me (the thingie wrapped in white) my Paternal grandmother, my Dad and my Paternal grandfather.This was the only time my Costa Rican grandfolks went to Hungary.

This is my Mom's Mom and I. She was an amazing person and a great doctor. She had an extraordinary sense of humor and was always very passionate. Dad says I have her laugher and some of our facial expressions are very alike.

And this is my Mom and I. My Mom loves me a lot! ^_^ Funny how my Mom looks so loving, and so beautiful and I have this "what the hell are you looking at? Do I look like charity to you? Beat it, dude!" look, or maybe a "yeah, yeah, I love you too, but you know what would make me love you more? A glass of coke" look. Hahahaha!

I've a great family. :-)

Americana Drives

I can't remember when did it started, or why it started, how it happened, who is the culprit, but somewhere in the way me, the Ultimate Europe-Lover, all about European Products (which I still am, in a way), started leaning towards the good ol' American stuff. I would be happy to say that it was because Barack Obama won the elections, but I really think it comes from before him. Maybe it was Supernatural and their all-American wrap (even if the boys are anything but wholesome, which is far from me to object), or me watching one too many Iron Chef America or Diners Drive-ins and Dives (or Triple D) eps, but the thing is that one day I found that I like and prefer and chose American goodies. (My taste in man, however, invariably leans towards the old Continent. What can I say? European men are just so much better!) This is how instead of leaning for a nice Citroen C3 as I had orginally imagined (no Italian cars, and I've my reserves with the German cars, however French... well, everything that's French is just goooooooooood), I was leaning towards American Muscle. The Impala came as a natural result of Supernatural, but then, movie by movie, I was introduced with other breathtaking beauties.

Their beauty, however, does seem to be in the eye of the beholder, as talking with my Boo this weekend, it turned out that he finds most of my favored cars just horrible. (Currently he's planning on selling the one car responsible of me falling in love with him - yeah, risky move - and fantasizes about getting an old, classic Mercedes - his car gara be German. I already teased him telling him that he may want to get Adolf Hitler's wheels.) A car I fell in love with thanks to XXX: State of the Union, the graceful, slick, smooth, manly, suave '67 Pontiac GTO seemed to him ugly, disproportionate, shapeless and with unfitting wheels. Dude, it's a '67 GTO, pimped up, sprayed down with orange-to-purple chamaleon paint, a patented type of unique car paint developped by West Coast Customs, thank you very much, and chrome 22 inch rims. It's a work of beauty, it's an art monument. Just sitting inside must be a religious experience. I mean, if you are good, when you die you go into a GTO. Well, us, we go to the GTO, not my Boo.

Great cars are many, and sure nowadays one of these gas-sucking darlings isn't the smartest move one can make, but... aren't they just beautiful? Don't they look as if they were made of angels? Take for instance this astonishing cherry painted Mustang. Looks like too much snout for a two door car, but does that take from the beauty of it? Sure it will be a pain in the ass to park her in a car crowded city, and I certainly can't imagine her turning into some of the narrow alleys and streets that cobweb Budapest. Stripped from nose to rear, across the hood like the classic racing models, or smooth, shiny like this cherry up there. I mean, wow. Do you know that "pretty please with a cherry on top"? Well, that's the cherry I fall for.

I don't have a car, nor I have really had a car so far, which is odd for many people. The way things look up, I think I'll have my car in Hungary, not here, and so the chances for me to have an American car, and American Sweetheart, as some would say, and quite slim. I mean, how on Earth would I get my pawns on one of them? They are beautiful, amazing, but the way things develop, they will only remain in my heart as an unfulfilled desire. Maybe, maybe one day.... :-)