I've been sick. I'm sorry. Turned out that I also had polio, tuburculosis, Strep's A and B, Thrush, and an unknown bacterial infection. I didn't miss work, but looking back on it, I probably could have avoided a lot of unecessary drama if I had. I'm currently undergoing a dramatic episode at work: someone is devious and it's obvious to me and it doesn't matter to anyone else. Ever have that feeling? Me and my new complex, Cassandra are having a grand old time.

In any case: my lord, I feel better. I still can't eat things because my throat is raw -- but thankfully I no longer have to take medication. I've been encouraged by my boss to go and see a docotor because my lymph nodes are still fucked, but I'm willing to gamble that it's not life threatening. That and I think my doctor is a fucking quack anyway, so he'd probably tell me it's nothing anyway. He makes me want to be a doctor too. That way I could be my own boss, not know anything about people, have poor bedside manner (e.g. opening the examining room door when "a patient" is standing stark naked in the middle of it), be completely dismissive of my patients' concerns, prescribe them drugs they don't need to indulge their fantasies about what they have, provide little or no explanation of why they are ill or what they can do about, and most importantly, act as though they're holding me back from my true love which is spending lazy afternoons doing coke off of a stripper's tits.

Anyway, I just gave in today and joined LAUNCH Cast on Yahoo! It's a really nice streaming music service, suprisingly. Because of their user influenced filtering and such, I'm able to get a nice playlist that I enjoy. If you enjoy jazz, drum and bass, IDM, underground hip hop, and other assorted miscelaneous debris please enjoy my selections.

The one thing that really is fucked on it, though, is the fact that the logic that they're using to associate "similar artists" is a sad joke and can be borderline offensive. For example, there is absolutely nothing connecting my taste in Aphex Twin to Enya; nor is there any connection in my mind between Amon Tobin and Moby -- besides the fact that they tend to reach for samples before they do instruments, which I think is tenuous at best.

In any case, have a lovely evening -- 'cause I'm the fuck outta here.

Wow. Today is slow. I got our designer sick and now I can't do any work. Yay! It turns out my devious thought has turned into reality. I don't feel particularly good about getting her sick (and why should I? she's not a part of the insidious plot), however it is affording me the ability to kick back a bit.

That said, I'm glad I don't have odd todd's job. I don't have to keep employed people happy as a part of my penitence for being unemployed.

So, finally, I am better. Hooray for white blood cells. Hooray for lymph nodes and multi-vitamins. And hooray for fever dreams of waiting for the fucking L train.

Two people quit yesterday. That's over 14 people in the past 4 months. Most of those have left without jobs. I think that's a bad thing. Usually, when people choose unemployment over working it means that they've either retired, have decided to dedicate themselves fully to their addiction, or the risks associated with not have health insurance and no income far excede the pain and suffering incurred on a daily basis here.

I don't agree. I suppose that's why I'm still here and they left. I guess I have more of a "growth opportunity." That and I think that I have a much greater likelihood of being a blight on our culture if I work here. Isn't that what every one ought to aspire to? I'm a big fucking blight. :)

I'm out -- this day is done. I'll be super productive tomorrow -- sleep is going to do well by me tonight. I also feel fat. That's never good.

Work is fun today. I get to blog. And I got paid. And we have a new person starting today. And it's grey out. And and and. YAY!! My neck started hurting!! Right on schedule.

Everything is going to plan today.

So I feel much better today. But, I'm very tired because my girlfriend and I had a late night. No thanks to the MTA the both of us were fucking trapped at 8th avenue for well over an hour. This wouldn't have been so terrible were it not for the fact that last night was to be the second night I spent at her "new" home.

She was looking forward to it. I was, well, sort of looking forward to it.

Hot, sweaty, and half drunk -- we resigned ourselves to going back to my place. Had I truly not wanted to go to her apartment, I would have seen this as a victory, but . . . We then proceeded to have the worst night of sleep either one of us has ever had at my apartment. Overall, I can say that I never want to go out ever again where my fate is dependant on the MTA. Were it not forbidden by the Social Discourse For Decent Gentlemen of High Society's (SDFDGHS) handbook, I would have had a right mind to do or say something truly wretched to someone who worked for them. But they're much larger than me and my slight build. So, I let it go.

Unfortunately, I think I'm going to be better tomorrow. Although I did find out that a person who had a very similar illness to mine also had thrush. For those of you who don't know about thrush, let me be the first to let you in on the little club. Oral Thrush is a yeast infection of the mouth. Yep. Yeast infection of the mouth. How did he get it? He doesn't know. His words to his primary care physician were, "Doc, you got the wrong idea about me." Being a gay man, he was incredulous that he could have contracted such a, well, notoriously vaginal infection.

I hope I don't have thrush. If I do, that means doctors and antibiotics. And health care costs. And actuaries.

Wow. So still, I don't feel better. That's okay and all, but I think I might need to go to a doctor now. Seeing as how I don't have a doctor, this ends up being really inconvenient. Almost as inconvenient as being sick.

Anyway, I think I'm getting better. It's probably being malnourished. Funny that living in Manhattan would leave you sickly and malnourished, but somehow, not really that surprising.

So, instead of doing the wise thing and just not going to work, I decided not to go to work but to "work from home."

This is totally pointless, because I'll end up feeling just as bad as I would had I gone, but I do everything in my underwear. I suppose that's good, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm still working, have a headache, my throat hurts, and I have trouble standing up. Even my fingers are getting tired from typing. Oh, the horror. The horror.

At least I can smoke in the "office."

Great -- so now I'm going home sick. That's fucking great. I've had it. Good thing is that it's thursday and not tuesday -- at least this may morph into a three and a half day weekend of sorts. That'd be nice. Of course, I'll be sick and feeling like crap, but that beats getting everyone else sick -- or does it?

I just found out that someone I worked with who moved out to CO got fired. Not totally surprising, but I can't say it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Business really is a place ridden with politics. I don't really like it very much -- perhaps it's because I'm not especially good at it. I can't smile when I'm unhappy. I can't laugh convincingly when things aren't funny -- it sounds more like a huh-hungh -- which everyone knows is totally fake and would instantly realise I'm full of shit.

Maybe I'm not going to have a good day.

I think I have strep throat. I'm not doing well today. The day overall doesn't seem like it's going to be bad -- but I don't think leaving work in the middle of the day is going to earn me much sympathy.

Being sick sucks because everyone just thinks that you're lazy and wimpy. Or maybe that's just my thought every time someone goes home sick.

I'm out for today. It turned out not so bad -- but it isn't over yet. There's the goddamn commute home which might as well the bhotan death march.

I went to a record release party last night. It was an interesting band called Fannypack. Ha Ha. Funny name. No.

You'd think that the audience would be full of clever people. It was. Full of fucking bullshit hipsters and models and other assorted boring people. I wanted to leave because it looked like everyone looked like they were looking like they were trying to look like they were the ones looking like they were having fun. Isn't that how it always is with some people? The reason why they laugh louder isn't because it's funnier, it's because they want you to know that they thought that it was funnier. That they get it more. That they're having more fun.

My thoughts on this subject: Please don't involve me in your desire to get fucked by the band. I would really prefer that things that can only sort themselves out in private, occur in private.

On the positive side, though, I did have a good time. I enjoyed my company and enjoyed hearing this new group. They're candy, but it's worth listening to this summer. It shouldn't last much longer -- it's going to be a bit flash-in-the-pan fad stuff. Which is sad, because they seem like they'd have a good loyal audience if they didn't go the pop route. Either way, the people I knew there were nice and made me happy.

My boss sent me a web document about information foraging. My first though is always, why do I care? But then I'm always drawn away from that thought because I'm paid to care. My job as a web producer is to care about how people work with information on the internet. That's pretty much what I've been reduced to. Web-giver-a-shitter-abouter. I love it.

It's always comforting when you're willing to sacrafic that which is most human for cash. It makes me think that it's all pretty much a big waste and you should od whatever the hell you want because no one, anywhere is truly keeping score. Either that, or I'm just in a really bad mood, and in which case, I should probably keep these thoughts to myself.

My back hurts and I don't want to be at work right now
Although what I do is kind of interesting and I do enjoy it for the most part, there are just some days that I wish lived on the Cote D'Azur and didn't have to worry about anything but if the wind was right for sailing and if there was enough gas in the dinghy. At least it would be more relevant.

Instead, I'm forced to wallow in self-pity the same way everyone else does and hope that I'm not wasting my life away, even though I know that I am.

I'm frustrated because I keep on getting asked to do things that I think are dumb. I hate having to fight for things. I wish people just trusted me and had no opinoin of their own -- life would be so much easier.

Okay, this week sucked. I really want to quit my job and I hate it here. Not really -- but I hate some people. I wish I didn't have to come to work this week. Moreover, I can't help but fantasize about winning the lotto -- that's fucking irritating considering that I have about the same odds if I play vs if I don't play.

whatever.