Foul

Ooooooooh. I hate Plone. I hate it and I hate the Byzantine craziness we’ve had to loop all around the Plone ridiculousness to make our site even halfway workable. This program is eminently unsuited to what we are trying to do with it and I curse all tech people who are more invested in fancy open-source software than in suggesting a piece of proprietary software that suits our fucking needs. Because at this point, even though Plone was free, we’ve spent what feels like a gazillion dollars and hours (days! months!) absolutely fucking the dog on this, when we could have spent less than $20 grand on something out-of-the-box PLUS the tech know-how to make that system talk to our webpage system. And in the end we have a slow website that is neither user- nor employee-friendly.

But no, even though I like our tech people, I still call a pox on all their houses, because I’m sitting here at 6:30 pm, unable to even log in to the fucking site to make the changes I need to make to get a project off my desk I didn’t ask for and don’t want and was due two weeks ago. And there’s no end in sight tonight. I’ve got to get this done, and goodbye relaxing bath.

To top it off, I just started bleeding, so I’m having terrible cramps and sitting very uncomfortably on wadded up toilet paper, because of course I don’t have the goddamn sense to have tampons at work. Even though I spend more time in this little airless rumbly office than I do at my house.

Rumbly, you ask? Yes, rumbly. My office is not only over the kitchen, it must be over the HVAC system as well. So all day my office throbs. Not as sexy as it sounds. One of my co-workers came in yesterday and said "Oh, it’s like being on an airplane." At least the food is better.

Just turned on Sleater-Kinney - really loud. And realized I’ve been holding my breath and grimacing for 10 minutes. No wonder I feel so foul.