Indeed, they were under a table that I didn't even look under, how they got there is beyond my imaginings. Needless to say, I'm relieved.
Other than the relief of finding my keys and an inner pledge no never allow this to happen again, I got this in email today:
Hi CHRISTINE,
The tickets you ordered on October 13, 2001 for BARENAKED LADIES, have been printed and will be shipped to you shortly via US Mail.
Confirmation number: xxxxxxxxxx
Event: BARENAKED LADIES
Event Date: Saturday, November 17, 2001
If you do not receive your ticket order at least 48 hours before the event or if you have other questions about your order, call xxxxxxxxxx
So I'm a happy little girl this morning.
On Friday afternoon I'd told him about the concert, asked if he thought we should bring Jessie, he said no, asked which of the two shows I would want to go to -- we settled on the Saturday night show seeing as Monday nights make Tuesday mornings hard to cope with. I told him tickets went on sale at ticketmaster.com at 10am on Saturday. I figured he'd be online, he'd buy them. But no. There I find myself Saturday morning with him all shruggy and like "uh, what concert?"
Fuck. I'm taking someone else. So I got a tad angry, and he said "well I didn't think it was all settled. Who is gonna watch the kids?" I said, "We have a month to worry about that, we have only a little time to buy good tickets. We should buy the tickets NOW!"
So he got up off the computer "Well I can't read your mind..." and walked into the kitchen with this pissy look on his face. Asshole. I was so pissed. I grabbed my wallet and went on ticketmaster.com to buy tickets. He came back and kind of made a noise and said "well I was gonna buy the tickets. What are you doing?"
Look. Jerk. You're making me actually make the purchase of my own birthday present. Thanks a whole fucking lot you caring and considerate amazing super guy. Go the hell away, I'll buy the tickets myself and think about taking you. Perhaps you can stay home with Geoff, I'll take Jessie, and we'll say happy birthday to me. fuck off.
I didn't say that, I thought it. I said "I'm buying the tickets since you don't seem to know how or know when or know what to do, I'll be off the computer in a minute and you can have it back to look at whatever you look at."
So I bought the tickets and am seriously considering telling him I don't want to go with him. It's my birthday. I shall take whomever I please.
Jerk.
On another note, my boss came up behind me yesterday late in the day when I was running spell check on my entry for the day, and I had to explain to her what I was doing. Seeing as it was 6:15, I figured it was no problem. I'm sure she's gonna mull this over and on Friday when we meet face to face will tell me to stop doing this here at the office... which I totally understand. I told her it is mostly personal, some movie reviews, and nothing explicit about the office because I signed a Non-Compete/Non-Disclosure form when I was hired and hold that as sacred. So she seemed relieved.
I really like my boss. No. I'm not just saying that in case she's reading over my shoulder or comes across this and starts reading. I'm also not going to go back through and edit out anything I've said in the past... that is censoring the moment that something was written and I don't think that is right. So if she does start reading this, hopefully she'll like it. And I won't get in trouble with the company (cross your fingers).
In yesterday's movie reviews I was so busy being totally upset about the Poor White Crap movie that I totally forgot to give a nod to the kid feature of the weekend. We rented "Spy Kids," which Jessica had seen with Doug last spring or whenever the hell it came out. She also saw it three times while they were driving cross country because the hotels they stayed at featured the movie on their "In Demand" or whatever system they had.
Doug had told me it was a movie I had to see. I kind of laughed at him, but lately kid movies have been pretty damn good. So I watched and enjoyed. I'd recommend this as a rental for anyone really, not just with kids. The message is kind of sappy -- family is very important. But the wrappings around this soft gooey center are hard and crunchy and tasty. The film is only at times complete malarkey, and if you can suspend disbelief for a few minutes it becomes quite enjoyable.
I like the way Roberto Rodriguez combines Latin culture and American culture to make an almost seamless new culture, which is beautiful and vibrant. I love what he can accomplish with changes in camera angle, shadow and speed. I enjoy his filmmaking a lot (even if sometimes the plots are ridiculous, like "From Dusk 'til Dawn," which I liked even though it was stupid). I'd watch this one again and again. I loved Alan Cummings as Floop, the children's TV program star who just wants to have a nice show but is the tool of a demonic ex-OSS agent who wants to wage war using robot "spy kids." His world is beautiful and surreal... Quite enjoyable really.
I just had lunch with "my buddies" Ben, Brian and Dan, my old pals from my last job. They came all the way out here to see me, and because my office is very close to the nearest Fuddruckers, and Dan Loves Fudds... (remember, Dan is the one we swap dogs with periodically. I just had his dogs for a long weekend, and he's taking Kinger for Thanksgiving).
It is nice to be able to still get together with them... a lot of times you have a job and you feel really close with people, but that closeness is sort of a bunker mentality -- you're knee deep in some shit related to your day to day work that forces you to bond. After one leaves (in this case me) usually the bond totally wears out and the perceived friendship disintegrates. I feel blessed to have three good friends who I don't have to call every day, or see all the time, or perform for. Three guys who are just guys who like football and take my money week after week in football pools that I so consistently lose.
I spent a lot of time bitching about Doug to them today, which isn't good. I shouldn't do that. It isn't fair to Doug because he's not there to shrug his shoulders in his defense... or even defend himself at all. And they don't need to hear the fat chick whine about her husband. I must remember not to do that again, even if some of what I am whining about is slightly amusing.
When I set out to do this journal I insisted it wouldn't be a personal bitchfest about my interpersonal relationships and failures in said relationships. So I'll get off that subject.
On that note, gotta get to work and not journal before I get in trouble. sigh. sigh...
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