Wednesday, June 27, 2007

I get stuff done. No really, I do!

Because I have nothing interesting to write about at the moment (other than the snot that is STILL taking up residence in my body), I shall share a very entertaining correspondence session I had with some fellow coworkers yesterday.

From: Lisa
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 11:42 AM
To: Mr. Desk Neighbor; New Girl; Jack
Subject: Award Time

And award for Most Retarded Parents of The Year < tm>goes to these people:

"The little girl's mother Maria, in keeping with her boxing-mad family's bizarre tradition, decided to give her 25 middle names - all culled from the greatest exponents inside the ring."

Seriously. Why are parents so cruel?

Actually, after reading the article I found better candidates. I saw a link on the side to a video with the following explanation:
"New Zealand authorities have blocked a couple's bid to officially name their new son '4real,' saying numerals are not allowed. (June 22)"

That's just too stupid for words.

From: Jack
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 11:42 AM
To: Mr. Desk Neighbor; New Girl; Lisa

thank you for this important information. Don’t you have any data validation to do?


From: Lisa
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:07 PM
To: Mr. Desk Neighbor; New Girl; Jack

Well apparently you don't pay attention to your emails very well. There is nothing to validate at this moment. In regards to SAP. So in order to fulfill my data validating needs I have been forced to look elsewhere, and am currently validating AP news data.

Thank you for your concern in regards to this matter.

From: New Girl
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:07 PM
To: Lisa and only Lisa

You go Girl !!!!

From: Jack
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:12 PM
To: The Gang

Thank you for the clarification. Perhaps you would like a handy tip sheet on e-mail etiquette. You may find it useful.

From: Mr. Desk Neighbor
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:12 PM
To: The Gang

I've got $10 on the Purchaser in the third round.

Note for Clarification for all you folks following along at home: Purchaser = me!

From: Lisa
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:17 PM
To: The Gang

Thank you for your quick response. That would be most appreciated, though I am not convinced of the so called usefulness of this tip sheet. Have you, in fact, read it? I find no evidence of such in your correspondence.

From: Jack
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:19 PM
To: The Gang

Thank you for your thoughts of the aforementioned "Sheet of proper Email Etiquette" hereinafter and heretofore known as "tip sheet." Whereas we feel the litigious and castigious nature of your previous messages bespoke a hint of negativity and therefore hostility, we respectfully request that furtherheretomore you refrain from mentioning the aforementioned tip sheet, lest problems of pride and prestige beseech you hereinafter.

From: Jack
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:25 PM
To: The Gang

An aside from the peanut gallery: Awe, look at that... isn't that cute? He astricked out the naughty words to preserve my poor little sensibilities. I mean, its not like he thought the doctored version would save his ass from getting fired or anything.

"Well Jack, we saw the email and thought we'd have to let you go for improper use of profanity in the work place, but on further review all we can see are those damn asterisks. Well played son, well played!"

From: Lisa
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:28 PM
To: The Gang

Thank you for your thank you. Might I inquire into the identities of this "we" that you speak of? Are we being visited by the voices again? And if I am forevermore never to mention the previously knicknamed 'tip sheet' am I also to be hindered from the use of the phrase "Sheet of Proper Email Etiquette". If so, I may have to look into changing my middle names from "Girl of The Many Sheets of Proper Email Etiquette" to something plain. Like Jane.

From: Lisa
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:30 PM
To: The Gang

You want PIE? Well...

From: Jack
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:31 PM
To: The Gang

The next email is hard to show in its entirety so that you understand the full force of it. It was this image...

...repeated over 100 times.

Seriously, for research into this post, and because I was suddenly curious, I tried counting all the little folder garps. I stopped counting at 50 and I wasn't even halfway down the page.

The whole thing looked like this (though severly minimized so it fits... and not this color but for some reason frickin paint wouldn't save as jpeg and bmp frelled it up even more, stupid piece of crap program)

I almost called defeat after this one. I mean, how can you top not just one garp, but a whole wall of garp?! All 3 frickin MB of email space worth of it. Well, as I was typing up my white flag of truce it hit me. (The idea, not the email). It was time to pull out the big guns.

From: Lisa
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 12:51 PM
To: The Gang

From: Jack
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007 1:28 PM
To: Lisa


It’s the synthesis of garp, cartman and haysus!!!!

Note the time delay between the last three posts. We were getting distracted by real work. At least I was. That, and the fact that its not easy to whip a talking jesus out your ass. I mean, Jack's a pro at that kind of stuff, but it takes me time to finesse things. Like finding just the right speech bubble.

But anywho, moral to the story is that I won. And there the fun stopped for the rest of the work day.

And no Jack, I'm still not validating any damn data. =P

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

And the saga continues...

Okay, so to continue today's blog posting theme that is All About Snot, let me tell you about my nose.

It's dripping like a mo-fo.

And I'm tired of fighting it. I've been fighting against the scratchy throat, trying not to cough while on the phone or in front of coworkers, all to no avail. All I get out of it is watery leaky eyeballs and people asking me, "Are you okay?"

Do I look/sound okay??? No, but thanks for your concern. Next time though, pretend the Phlegm Monster doesn't exist so that I can pretend you don't notice me being all gross and stuff. Okay? That's how this is supposed to work. I can't work on my denial if you keep throwing reality in my face. Sheesh.

I hate when I turn into a Phlegm Monster. Out of no where comes this phlegm infused cough/sneeze combo that scares everyone in the office.

"Don't worry! I'm okay! My monitor is okay! Nothing green flew out of any of my orifices! It is now safe to move about the cabin!"

I go into the bathroom to blow my nose (I'm a considerate coworker and try to make the icky snot noises elsewhere) and nothing comes out. Then as I'm walking back to my desk my nose leaks like a faulty faucet and I have to run for a tissue.

My brilliant solution? Stuffing Kleenex up my nose.

That way, when the nose wants to drip, it can drip, and I don't have to keep whipping my poor little sensitive nose.

I've never attempted this at work before. Never in front of someone who doesn't have family/best friend/boyfriend status. As I type this I have half a Kleenex wadded up and stuffed in each nostril. And I don't care who sees me.

Well, I didn't, until a Very Important National Bigwig Of Much Importance walked into the office on her tour of the facility. The VINBOMI who stopped at this particular office in the back of the building to see me specifically. D'oh.

I pulled those wads out of my nose faster than you can say, "holy shit a complete stranger who just happens to be my boss's boss's boss's (etc to some unknown degree up the food chain) just saw me with fucking kleenix hanging out my nose!"


I'd say the whole thing was embarrassing. Mortifying even. But I'm positive she didn't see anything since she was a few feet away from me. And she was small (i.e. tiny eyes i.e. poor vision). And busy talking to her entourage. And disoriented after having come from a hot, noisy, dark part of the facility into the bright, cold, quiet office. Yeah, I bet the light blinded her for a second.

Uh huh.

That's my perception of reality and I'm stickin' to it.

Down with the Sickness

The Sickness, it is consuming me.

It has taken over all motor functions, to the point where I now know what living in Jello World must feel like.

(which me thinks would be totally awesome btw)

The sickness is in control of all my higher reasoning brain portals.

(See the above, and obviously retarded, parenthetical statement for proof.)

I can not focus on anything. I can no longer even fake the ability that is Intelligent Speaking.

So I'm going to blog again about being sick. Because its all I can think about, what with the sinus cavities about to EXPLODE.


They are seconds away from EXPLODING!

Monday was the worst, because the snot was dripping down my throat, causing it to be all sore and shit. My sinus cavities weren't on the verge of EXPLODING, but it hurt like hell to swallow, which, try as I might, was unavoidable. So that was the worst, and thankfully that ohmygodithurtstoswallow stage was over soon enough.

Because then Tuesday came along, and with it the Evil Swelling of the Sinuses. Which in turn led to the great Office Massacre of '07.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a massacre. Per se. I only bit one guys head off. Chewed it up and spit it out and stomped on it until it stopped twitching.

Guy comes up to me, like, two seconds after I step into the office in the morning, and tells me an order wasn't received in the system. And I think to myself, and I should care because..., because really, I'm not the person who receives stuff. If something needs to be received, talk to The Guy Who Receives Stuff. Not a hard concept to grasp. I don't say anything to the guy and continue making my way through the imaginary sludge that is my jello sickness world. I sit at my desk and before I can even turn on the computer he grabs a paper from the printer, proof of said delivery, and proceeds to shove the proof in my face.

And I snapped.

Before he can explain it, which for some reason he is most eager to do, I asked, "Why are you showing this to me?"

Guy looks stunned. Confused. What a silly thing to ask, his contorted face says to me.

"This wasn't received-" he starts to say.

"Yeah, so why are you SHOWING IT TO ME????????"

Guy blinks. Uh oh, he looks like I've hurt his feelings.

"Seriously. What am I supposed to do? What? WHAT????"

Guy walks away, pissed all to hell. And he wouldn't talk to me for hours afterward, other than to say asshole-ish things. Which was fine, because if he was going to bother me with crap that I don't need to be bothered with first freaking thing in the morning when I'm obviously cranky with sickness (the constant coughing should have been a HUGE clue) then I could care less if his feelings were hurt. Which is a lie, because I felt bad that I'd snapped at him. But not bad enough to apologize. Meh.

I don't know what he expected from me. A round of applause? I scooby snack for a job well done?

Today my throat feels better. Yeah! But only because there's no snot drippage because the sinuses are at about DefCon 5000.

EXPLOSION time I tell ya!

I'm also having trouble talking today. More so than usual. I can talk to the people in the office just fine, but once I get on the phone to talk to a vendor my throat seizes and The Throat Tickle From Hell is unleashed and I start to cough like its going out of style. I had to hang up on one guy because I couldn't even say, 'excuse me sir while I hack up a lung, I'll be right back.' I hung up and ran outside so I could hack in peace. Being sick in an office full of people, even sparsely populated with people, sucks the Big One.

And now it is Wednesday, aka The Day of The Drippy Nose. Which I'll blog about in another post because its time to get to work. Which dammit it all the hell in back involves more talking on phones. Bah!

No time for morons

So this is what happened just a little bit ago...

A coworker walks into the office and sits down at his desk.

I continue to cough sporadically like I've been doing for the last couple of days.

And not dainty coughs mind you. Really gross phlegm-y painful coughs.

A couple of minutes later the coworker stands up and walks over to the fax machine.

I cough again.

The coworker pauses, turns to me, and asks: "You sick?"

Well no shit dumbass.

"No. I think coughing's fun!"

Seriously. Don't ask me stupid questions. If you'd like to send your condolences re: my awful sucky condition, then by all means, go ahead. But don't ask if I'm fucking sick after I've been coughing germs all over my desk for the last couple of days.


Why does a sinus headache make me bitchier than normal? Hmmm...