Back to Work

Two jobs that I'm really excited about have recently been posted. Both are likely to pay less than my current job, but offer far greater benefits in terms of reduced commute time, intellectual stimulation, and (I hope) job satisfaction. I'm trying to make the numbers work (this is really just stalling before writing cover letters, since nobody ever lists the salary range on the job ad - I'm working with pretend numbers I pulled from thin air).

Cross your fingers for me, please.

Happy Birthday

To me!

Season of Potlucks and Passive Aggression

We went to a potluck this past weekend.

It was a birthday party for a friend of the UnSpouse, and most of the guests were firmly in the UnSpouse's friends/my acquaintances camp. I'm not complaining about this; I think it's a good thing that our social circles haven't melded into one big blob.

But there's this one woman.

As far as I can tell, she's never had a very good opinion of me. I don't recall giving her any particular reason to dislike me, so I can only assume:

She's been carrying a torch for the UnSpouse all these years, and sees me as competition

She's freakishly protective of the UnSpouse, and sees me as a bad influence/gold-digger/whore

She's a bitch very unhappy person

Let's call her M, shall we? M is a master of both the passive-aggressive snark and the whiny poor-me act; it's rare to see them married so well. Tip of the hat, and all.

So there I was, chatting with S, towards whom I'm pretty neutral: she seems nice enough, but we've never really clicked. M is also sitting nearby, and some woman I've never met, when the conversation turns to the Harry Potter movie. Someone mentions Helena Bonham Carter, and Stranger says "isn't she the one that's married to Tim Burton?"

"No," M replies,"they have a child, and they live next door to one another. Because marriage would just be too much." There's a vindictive look in her eyes, or maybe I just imagined that bit.

Commence general pile-on over women who would dare to ape the form and conventions of the sacred institution of marriage, without claiming their G-d-given tax incentive. Yea verily, we must protect marriage from teh gays, and how can we possibly do that if women don't follow The Rules? (No idea where the men are in this fantasyland.)

Hello? I'm sitting right here. Really? You're going to do this now?

And there's that moment, where you think about saying something, and you realize, no - I just don't care enough. If it were a friend? Yeah, I would have called them on it. That's not only based on snobbish and, dare I say, bullshit assumptions, it's just plain rude. But M? Nope. Can't work up even a tiny bit of energy for that fight.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get on with breaking commandments and seducing impressionable young people to the Dark Side.

Just So We're Clear

The man who has spent the past six-and-a-half years wiping his ass with the constitution would like us all to know that commuting sentences is a power granted to the President by said document.

The Constitution gives the President the power of clemency to be used when he deems it to be warranted.

ETA: The best one-line summary I've seen: War Criminal Commutes Sentence of Convicted Perjurer at Behest of Traitor

Daily Vocabulary: Encomium

encomium
noun

1. Warm, glowing praise.
2. A formal expression of praise; a tribute.
[Latin encōmium, from Greek enkōmion (epos), (speech) praising a victor, neuter of enkōmios, of the victory procession : en-, in; see en-2 + kōmos, celebration.]

Sarah was so taken with Fables that she considered composing a musical encomium to the author, despite being unable to read music or carry a tune. She settled for buying all the back issues from her local comic shop instead.

The encomia for Sarah's mother flew fast and furious at her funeral, and seemed so at odds with the character of the woman Sarah had known, that she was forced to check her program to assure herself that she had not wandered into the wrong service.