今天是4月上班的第一天,意料外的不顺利,外线打不出去,公司服务器也坏了,网络盘用不了，而我的所有文件全是G盘上,于是乎,晕了,月报没法做了,KPI也做不了了,没事的人自然悠栽悠栽,太阳MM居然画起铅笔画来,画得还不错
老M的SOP居然COPY在MP3里，他知道我没办法做自己的事就让我帮他做PPT了，没有理由拒绝,认命了
以后要养成习惯，把文档存个备份在C盘里,以备服务器罢工
在做一些”创意”十足的事情的时候我总是安慰自己,这样会提高XX方面的能力，以平息愤愤不平的内心,脆弱啊
下午快5点的时候网络才通,这个时候老M的SOP也帮他搞定了，一句”辛苦了”就完事了,真有领导风范啊
大概是空气不好，这时候头脑里晕忽忽的,大概脑子塞牢了,没办法做事,发热,发热
MD,班车开走了，留我一个人,哭天抹泪…
晚上带回家完成吧,这个星期注定安宁不了，这个月也没法安宁了，到处乱,乱,乱啊
昨天顶风冒雨拖家带口去易初莲花买东西，受了巨大的刺激。。。
从来见到量体重的，我都绕着走，特别是那种电子的，你上去就告诉你偏胖偏瘦。我怕我一上去，会说：“别两个人一起上！！！”引人围观，观之不雅。
昨天看四周没人，我就跳到秤上量了一下，晕菜，105KG，105KG！！！有掌柜的两个重还加个拐弯。。。
无语泪千行。。
今天早上菊菊提醒了我一下，外面的秤一般都会偏胖，让人去买减肥药。昨天那秤放在体育用品柜台旁边，明显是个陷阱。自己找心里安慰吧，就当愚人节被愚了一下。
不过如果那样的话，掌柜的不是更瘦了？一个太胖一个太瘦，一个要减肥一个要增肥，难办啊难办
昨天给老爸买了一个新手机， 功能不多，价钱不贵，够他用的了，我先玩一个月，五一带回去。
顺便怀旧一下。
上海的交通的确搞人，以前在YSP步行5分钟上班的时候没有感觉到，几年来的上班族生活也因为步行没能体会到，没能体会到这个“堵”字在上班路上的这般揪心
这个星期每天都堵，几乎每天都是在堵车半途中下车的，大伙都急不可待了，还好司机叔叔售票阿姨仁慈，下来在几乎停滞的车队夹缝里穿行，把停步不前的万野甩得老远
于是乎，姐姐我决定今天步行来上班，提前10分钟出发
一路就盼着车水马龙，堵他个水泄不通，无疑，幸灾乐祸是人的隐性本质，这个时候得到了完美体现，乐呵呵的
10分钟后走到平时堵车地段，今天周五也，一路居然畅通无阻，我眼巴巴地看着几部车从我身边疾驰而过，什么世道，明摆着欺负人嘛
本着走路就是健身、步行就是环保的高尚思想，怀着愤愤不平的心情我继续游走。。。
Wang in Love and Bondage: Three Novellas by Wang Xiaobo
From Publishers Weekly
Reading popular, irreverent Chinese essayist and novelist Wang, who died in 1997 at 44, can feel like being held upside down—particularly during the zingy sex scenes. Characters cultivate an artful irrelevance to circumvent official stricture, and fail most every time. In the first work, “2015,” the narrator’s uncle, Wang Er, is a painter without a government permit to paint; his paintings are so stridently fractal that they make people dizzy. Sent for re-education, he readily admits his stupidity, but is undone when a female guard takes a very twisted interest in him. “The Golden Age” concerns another Wang Er: a 21-year-old, well-endowed Beijing student sent to the Yunan countryside during the Mao period. There, he runs off with a married doctor. Told to confess on returning, Wang, ironically, becomes a writer, as his superiors insist on more and more pornographic detail in every revised version of his confessions. The slighter final story, “East Palace, West Palace,” relates a story about a policeman who falls in love with a bisexual cross-dresser. Wang’s deeply convincing novellas will certainly please the readers who have enjoyed recent Nobel Prize–winner Gao Xingjian’s novel, Soul Mountain.(Mar.)
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From Booklist
*Starred Review* Wang (1952-97) has a large following among Chinese university students but isn’t at all popular with the literary establishment. Blame the matter and attitude of his work, not its literary merit. China has a history of heavy-handed prudishness that the sex in these three novellas flouts big time. They’re wry social-realist exercises demonstrating that in a repressive society, whether of the future, the Cultural Revolution, or post-Mao but still policed 1990s China, sex affords the only excitement worth risking slander or prison for. And if it weren’t for imagination, sex might be drab. If the narrator of “2015″ weren’t obsessed with being an artist, would he so ardently follow his artist uncle’s misadventures, which eventuate in being a luscious policewoman’s sex toy? If they could redeem their reputations, would the lovers undergoing forcible “re-education” in “The Golden Age” breath so heavily? Would the handsome cop in “East Palace, West Palace” discover his homosexuality if he weren’t such a socially determined straight arrow? Not sex but sensation, with the possibility, however slight, of transcendence, becomes the supreme value for these stories’ characters–a predicament not unlike that of Jake Barnes and company in Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. Ray Olson
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