R.A.O.S.T.

Wrong Number Responsibility

2010-02-05T12:10:00.000-08:00

I used to get a lot of people keep calling me, all wanting to talk to Janis/Janice.

"I'm sorry you've got the wrong number."

"Is this 555-5555?"

"Yep. So I guess you have the right number, just the wrong person. I don't know a Janis/Janice."

I've had that conversation about 50 million times - give or take a million. I started to get annoyed, especially when the same company kept calling.

"As I've said before, I don't know a Janis/Janice. She gave you the wrong number. Please make a note in whatever file you have open in front of you and STOP FREAKIN CALLING ME!"

I mean, that shit was eating up my minutes!

Grrr.

The calls stopped, so I figure Janis/Janice realized her mistake and gave these people her correct phone number.

Yesterday someone left a message on my phone, once again looking for Janis/Janice. They wanted to talk to her about hospital stuff or doctor/medical stuff or, well, I don't remember exactly. It sounded fairly important though.

What responsibly do I have to call that person back and let them know they have the wrong number so they can try and get a hold of the correct person?

I'm going to guess absolutely none. But it made me pause for a second and consider it.

Maybe if the call sounded more urgent, or life threatening, I would have. Probably.

Janis/Janice, whoever you are, wherever you are, memorize your damn phone number and stop giving out mine.

Ta.

Also annoying: I also keep getting emails meant for someone else.

The first email was from a company inviting me for a job interview. I found this strange for several reasons. 1) I hadn't applied for a new job and 2) the company was located on the other side of the continent.

I replied back: "Um, is this some weird sort of spam?"

They replied back, thinking I'm a complete idiot: "Um, no. You applied for a job and we want to interview you."

My reply: "Um... no, I didn't. Can I see the resume I sent in?"

I wanted to know who was impersonating me!

They sent the email with the resume and I found the mistake:

My address is myfirstname.mylastname@address.com.

The address of the person applying for the job was myfirstname.mylastname3@address.com.

Someone didn't notice that 3! Oops! Easy mistake.

That was a couple of months ago. I figured my name doppelganger realized the mistake the potential job made and either got a new email address or learned to stress the importance of including that number in the 'send to' field.

Yeah... not so much.

I started getting emails from someone with my same last name, but with an unfamiliar first name. I thought it was one of those spam tricks meant to make me think the emails were from someone I knew. I ignored them at first but they kept coming and the subject lines looked more like common FWD subjects and less like spam subjects. I got curious, opened one, and the 'sent to' field looked like that of a FWD email as well. There were a couple of non-spam-generated looking addresses, and some of those shared the same last name. Aha! These must be for my name doppelganger!

I could have kept ignoring the emails, and let Name Doppelganger and Non-Relative figure it out on their own, but I was getting annoyed. I figured I'd do the nice thing.

"Dear Non-Relative. I think you are sending these emails to the wrong person as I have no idea who you are. Please check with the person you know and verify that you have their correct email address before forwarding another inane chain email. Thanks."

No reply.

Not that I expected a 'sorry, my bad' emailed response or anything.

Then a couple of weeks later I get another FWD email.

Sigh.

Four forwarded emails later I reply back to him again.

"Dear Non-Relative. I don't know you. You have the wrong address. Seriously. Stop emailing me."

No acknowledgment.

A week later I get this (names have been edited just in case of... well, I don't know what):

"Many thanks for your efforts. £20 transferred to your account. PERSON will be very grateful. Anytime you are able to get them when passing through TOWN they will be most welcome."

What.

The.

Hell.

Is this guy an idiot? I mean seriously! If I got an email saying 'hey you have the wrong address' I would, oh, I don't know, maybe FIND OUT WHAT THE CORRECT ADDRESS IS.

But maybe I'm just silly like that.

She sent me an email by mistake herself before (like a work email to her personal for safe keeping), so as long as she never wondered why the email never appeared in her inbox I know she knows I exist.

And I've gotten an email from an online store confirming a gift a relative bought her.

I guess I could email my Name-Doppelganger but I'm not sure if she's the myfirstname.mylastname3 I'd discovered before. Maybe there's a myfirstname.mylastname2 out there. I'd never really thought about it before but obviously Non-Relative is a complete moron and I can't leave fixing this up to him.

It just seems kind of weird to talk directly to Name-Doppelganger. As if acknowledging her or contacting her will rip a hole in the space/time fabric of the universe.

/geekoff

I'd like to avoid it (Dear Name-Doppelganger, you do realize there's a "3" in your email address, right?) but today I found this in my inbox: (names removed, etc.)

"Mr. & Mrs. LastName,

BOY was disruptive in class today. The class was playing a vocabulary review game and BOY was the score keeper for the boy’s team. When their score was 69 BOY made quite a big deal about the # 69 which drew the attention of the entire class, getting them off task, and putting a spin on a simple number making it something inappropriate for school. I told BOY that he needed to quiet down and control his comments. Later in the game BOY announced to the class that he wanted the boys to earn more points so they could be the "big wieners."

This information is being shared with Mr. PRINCIPAL because of the nature of his comments. I hope that BOY's behavior improves so that further consequences are not needed.

Mrs. TEACHER"

Oh BOY, you naughty seventh grader you.

I don't know if I'd call it a responsibility to inform these people that they have the wrong email, but I guess I should contact Name-Doppelganger. There's some serious business going on that Mrs. LastName would probably want to know about!

And by the way, when did 'pulling a card' and timeouts and principal's office visits become extinct? Oh wait, it's the seventh grade, so card pulling and timeouts are probably not feasible. But principal's office visits? Is that taboo now? What about detention or banging erasers or whatever.

Anywho, looks like I should forward this to Name-Doppelganger. It'd be the nice thing to do (Sorry BOY).

But come to think of it, I might have two different Name-Doppelgangers here!

The emails from Non-Relative have united kingdom email addresses in the 'sent to' field. And look at the money Non-Relative transferred! Could that Name-Doppelganger be from England!

That wouldn't match the myfirstname.mylastname3 address. That Name-Doppelganger lives on the east coast of the USA. (An assumption, since that's where the interview was.)

And the teacher email? That was meant for the mother of a kid in a USA school district.

So I could send the school email to the address I have, and ask if she has UK relatives that don't know how to verify a damn email address. Grrrr.

This is so not worth getting annoyed over, and yet it fills me with warm, angry little fuzzies that warm my soul.

UPDATE:

After a quick bit of research I sent an email to the work address I have of UK Name-Doppelganger. I asked if she had a seventh grade son that giggled at the mention of the number 69 (okay, I really didn't) and told her she might want to ask her relative to update his ~~damn~~ address book (that one's true).

I also did some research on the saved email I have from the job interviewer. He's located in Virginia, so its quite possible myfirstname.mylastname3 Name-Doppelganger is from Virginia as well.

(Sherlock Holmes 101 my dear Watson)

And the location of the school from the teacher's email is Indiana.

So... I think its possible I have emails meant for three different Name-Doppelgangers.

I bet they all hate me for getting the numberless-name-email-address first :D

An Anniversary. Of sorts.

2009-10-30T17:51:00.000-07:00

Today is the day that marks one full week of unemployment. Yay! String up the balloon, blow some party favors and buy me some motherfricken cake! It’s party time.

It feels like its been an unproductive, pointless few days. But I’ve done stuff! I really have.

Proof of point: a list.

I signed up for unemployment.
I mailed that thing that needed to be mailed.
I wrote a check for my car payment and mailed that off too.
I did laundry.
I did the dishes.
I baked cookies. They didn’t turn out too well, but they’re homemade dammit.
I did a bit of an online job search. Not too extensive, but I started to look around.
I went to the grocery store.
And I searched the hell out of homes for sale. Like, a LOT of searching.

See? I did stuff! A whole list of stuff.

Most of my time I think was spent looking online for a new place to live. And reading up on stuff I need to know about buying our very first home. It’s kind of daunting how much I don’t know about this stuff. It’s been a bit overwhelming at times. But at least its been keeping my brain occupied!

Also, the sooner we move the sooner we’ll be saving money. No more crazy high rent payments! Woooo!

Oh, and I’ll finally get to have a washer and dryer INSIDE instead of walking to a communal laundry room. The HB’s one request is that there’s a big enough garage for him to have a ‘man cave’ to store all of his manly tools and stuff. It’s been twelve years since we’ve had either luxury. And now they’re within our grasp! Well, after we apply for a loan. And get a loan. And do a tour of the few places we’ve selected. And make an offer. And holy crap there’s still so much to do.

To add to the madness, I’ll be participating in NaNoWriMo this year. I haven’t done NaNo since I went back to school and I’ve been really looking forward to the hectic paced novel writing that will happen next month.

Job searching, house hunting, and writing a novel... November will certainly be an adventure.

Today

2009-10-22T15:03:00.000-07:00

As a supervisor was walking with me back to my office he asked if I had a backup plan. I laughed. It never occurred to me to have a back up plan.

Sure, I’d thought about what I might do after I left my job, especially after I finished my degree a couple of months ago. I couldn’t stay there indefinitely, could I? Would I even want to? But I was happy where I was at. There was no need to rush on to The Next Big Thing. Besides, staying meant avoiding the big What To Be When I Grow Up question.

A couple of months ago it became known that a couple of the production lines were going to be relocated to other facilities. It stood to reason that the people running the lines would be let go when there was nothing for them to work on. It wasn’t until this last Tuesday, when news of the unusual monthly meeting set-up made its way back to my tiny office, did I begin to think, ‘hey, they might downsize my department too!’

I realized it was possible that I could be the one let go.

I even took all the personal stuff littering my desk and drawers home yesterday. Just In Case.

And it still never occurred to me to start thinking of a backup plan.

I knew it was possible. It made sense that with a third of the production lines going there’d be a third of the work to do, so bye-bye third person in my department.

It was still a shock when I heard my position had been... shit, what did they call it? Not redundant... “No longer needed” I guess. Which is bullshit, because the job still needs to be done. They’re just foisting it on my coworker. Out of the blue. No heads up so I can give him any training. Sucks to be him. Wait a minute... no it doesn’t! He still has a job!

Sigh.

I knew that if I was let go, everything would be okay.

It will suck, but I can find another job.

The HB will support me, emotionally and financially for a bit if need be.

I’d be okay. We’d be okay.

I could look at it as a good thing, a gentle push into a different direction that will ultimately turn out to be so much better for me.

I knew this, and still I was anxious. It felt irrational to be so anxious. It would’t be the end of the world. I knew it. So why worry about it? If something happens, I’ll deal with it!

Easier said than done.

I showed up at nine this morning, giving myself a pep talk. “It’ll be fine. There’s probably nothing to worry about, but if you’re let go, it will be okay. It will be okay.”

I wish I’d talked myself into believing I was getting laid off instead. Then I could have been more prepared to deal with the news.

I would have been braced for the bad. I would have appeared calm. Cool. Unaffected. “You’re letting me go? Interesting. Could we speed this up? I have an interview at 10.”

As the employees showed up this morning, all of the supervisors were lined up down the hall that lead to the conference/meeting room. It was surreal, like they were getting ready to shake everyone’s hand for the last time. It really weird-ed me out, so I avoided eye contact and ducked into the room through the first door I came to.

There was a five minute speech. “Hello. Welcome. Shits about to happen. Let’s begin.” That was about it. Then we had one-on-ones with a HR manager and our supervisor. I was in the first batch called. The others had to stay in the conference room while they waited their turn.

I sat down in a small meeting room with the best boss I’ve ever had and some stranger I’ve never met before. I should have picked up on the boss’s body language and voice tone. Thinking about it now, he looked uneasy, like he was about to share some unpleasant news. Ha! I think I subconsciously chalked it up to just being a bad day for everyone. He said he was going to read through the script they (the bosses) had to run through. I thought that was just because the HR rep was there and the boss had to be ‘by the book’. He’s always been so damn informal. That damn script lulled me into thinking everything was okay. “Production has been cut... less need for certain jobs… YOUR JOB IS NO LONGER NEEDED SUCKER.”

Bam! Pow! WTF?

I was waiting for him to say ‘only two jobs will be kept in your department’ and I was bracing to find out which of the other two it was going to be. But then he said “you”. “Your” job. “Your” position. “You” will no longer be working here. Not “him” or “them” but “you” and I kept repeating that.

“You.”

That means “me.”

Why, why, why did I think I was so safe? I should have convinced myself I was a goner. I wouldn’t have felt so stupid while the HR dude talked about the HR stuff.

But I was cool about it. I didn’t cry. I didn’t freak out. I even cracked a joke! And they laughed!

And I was going to walk out of there with my head held high dammit.

This will be a good thing, I told myself as the HR guy talked. And my boss just sat and stared at me. This will be that nudge I need to find a better job. A job that better suits me and my talents. This will all turn out to be The Best Thing For Me.

Then the HR guy got to the end of his spiel. He’d handed me all the paperwork he needed to hand me, told me all the things he needed to tell me.

Then he handed me my last paycheck.

And it was suddenly ten times more real.

I felt that tight grip of control start to loosen and my face started to scrunch up in a holy-shit-I’m-about-to-cry sort of way. I took a deep breath and quickly apologized.

“Sorry,” I said flapping my arms up and down twice. “I think I’m about to have a girl moment.”

“It’s okay,” the HR guy said in an annoyingly sympathetic tone.

I took a second to regroup.

“Here,” my boss said and nudged the box of Kleenex a fraction of an inch closer.

“Well damn,” I said as I stared at the box sitting in the middle of the table. “That should have been a dead give away right there!”

They chuckled. And they watched me stare at that last check. That god damn last check from my first real grown up job that I’ve had for the last eight and a half years and holy crap what am I going to do now with my fucking life.

ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGG.

At least I didn’t get fired, right? That would have been worse. Nothing I did wrong. Nope. They just downsized. And I wasn’t good enough to keep around.

Fuck.

I hid the check between the stack of papers I’d been given. I wanted to be strong. To be able to stare at it, hold it in my hands, and not be fazed by it. But I couldn’t do it. I felt weak. And that annoyed me. And then I felt like crying. And I wanted to get the hell out of there before anyone besides those two saw it.

But not before I thanked the HR guy for a wonderful job. “In all seriousness,” I told him. “You were awesome.” They kept letting me blab on and on like an idiot instead of kicking me out of the room like sensible people who are still in their right mind because they still have their damn job. We’re all standing up, next to the door. I’m thanking the HR guy. And I think I thanked my boss for “everything” either before or after I looked dead in the eyes and said, “This sucks.” And still they let me linger. Kick me out for crying out loud and stop me before I embarrass myself even more. Sheesh!

Next stop: saying goodbye to my office. I’d cleaned out my desk yesterday, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to pack up every last thing I’d want to take with me. Because it wasn’t going to really happen. I knew it was possible, I really did, but I still didn’t believe it would happen.

Yesterday, before I left for the day, I’d grabbed all desk gnomes I’ve collected over the years. A couple were happy meal toys. Three of them are pokemons found in poptart boxes. A few were x-men figurines found in those plastic bubbles you get from the quarter machines at movie theaters. A coworker had given me two, wolverine and magneto. Another coworker had given me a dog figurine. Another had given me a happy face with legs and bunny ears.

Gah! Making it all worse is that I have no idea who else got laid off. I didn’t have time to say goodbye to the friends I had there. I could send them a goodbye email, but what if they’re not there Monday to receive it?

Well, I’d packed up my cd’s yesterday as well. A calculator I’d gotten from work with a cool little flip top. I’d emailed 8 years worth of pictures and person files I’d found/made through the years then deleted them from the computer.

But I hadn’t taken the award certificate Mr. Desk Neighbor had made me for having the messiest desk.

I didn’t want to walk all the way back to my office, with a damn escort at that, I just wanted to leave. But I didn’t want to leave without that certificate.

So we made the trek to the back. While I was there I grabbed some other keepsakes. I grabbed the ugly fanny pack I received a couple of years ago that was given out as a ‘safety award’. I thought about leaving all the pens and post-it notes that were inside (I’d used it to carry my office supplies every time I moved offices) but I just dumped that shit in a drawer and left. I couldn’t linger about any longer.

So yeah. I have no job. I am unemployed!

And it feels so damn surreal.

I think I got all the crying out of my system as I drove home. And as I went through the drive through at In-N-Out. That was a little embarrassing.

I am NOT going to freak out about money, i.e. car payments, student loan payments, rent, and all the other bills I started cataloguing on my way home.

But it is tempting.

I will also not worry about the fact that the HB and I had wanted to move into a house soon. Our lease is up this month and we still need to decide, ‘House? Cheaper apartment while we save some more? Or stay?” I will also not worry about the fact that the HB has been thinking about quitting his job for awhile now. Guess I foiled those plans!

I called him as soon as I got to my car and I’d just like to say he is the bestest boyfriend ever.

He said I should take a month or two off, but I’m thinking a week should suffice for a decent pity party. Or maybe two. I’m kind of afraid to take off more than that. I might like the lazy life a bit too much.

I'll take some time though, then see what’s out there in the Big Scary World of Job Openings. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find something I can use my useless degree for! Wouldn’t that be the shit?

It will all work out for the best.

Everything will be all right.

I will be all right.

Nothing but good times ahead.

Tomorrow

2009-10-21T09:52:00.001-07:00

It loooooooooooms like a great big looming cloud of doom.

Tomorrow is the day I find out if I still have a job. I'm pretty sure I still do. Optimistically speaking my chances are good.

But I'm still anxious as shit.

Even if my job is spared, I wouldn't be surprised if someone in my department gets cut. About a third of the production lines are migrating to other facilities. A rumor a little birdie told me is that about a quarter of the production crew is getting the axe in the process.

Will the same happen to my department? A department of just three people? It wouldn't make too much sense to cut one of us, but when has sense ever played a part in a corporate decision. (Bah! I feel so jaded!) We already have enough on our plates to keep us busy, but hey, two of us manage when one of us goes on vacation, so what the hell. Make it permanent!

A coworker who works up in the front office said there are freakin' security guards roaming about. The rumor: they're getting ready to escort people out once the firing starts. I don't remember ever seeing security guards when I worked in the front. But then, I don't think I ever saw anyone after they were recently fired, so maybe the security guards just popped out of nowhere and whisked the unemployed away. Anyone I might have been in view of being escorted out ended up quitting long before they could be let go anyway.

Sigh.

Tomorrow is the day when we find out who stays and who goes. This is still unofficial though. We all know layoffs will happen; we just don't know when. But tomorrow is the monthly companywide meeting, so many people are speculating this is the perfect time to spring the happy news.

Oh! And another rumor? The place is shutting down tonight. UN. HEARD. OF. Seriously. We used to be 24/7. Lately we've been 24/5 due to the bad economy blah blah blah. But to suddenly shut down in the middle of the week? Holy crap. Which means, if its true, we have to show up tomorrow just for the Meeting of Doom. Weird.

More weird is that in the past, three different meeting times were posted and you show up for whichever one you can make. This monthly meeting? Each of the three different time slots are assigned rows and rows of employee ID numbers. They've actually assigned us a time, and done it all secret-like with anonymous numbers. I've worked here for nine years. That's a first.

I have the 9am slot. Guy Number 1 in my department has the noon slot. Guy Number 2 has the 3pm slot.

Yeah.

Magic 8 Ball says, "Outcome looks grim."

But thank Elvis I don't have to wait until 3 freakin pm to find out if I still have my job.

Guy Number 1 was told by our boss to wait to come in to work until his noon meeting time. But its still not official that we're not working tomorrow. Oy vey. When will Mr. Boss bother to tell me to just show up for my 9am time? Hopefully soon because it's driving me nuts.

I don't want to do any work.

What's the point if I don't have a job? Bad, bad, bad thoughts.

I feel the urge to get rid of anything personal, i.e. the snoopy pen in my desk, my cd's, the handful of figurines decorating my desk, computer files such as work inspired pics, this word doc with all my scribblings, etc.

It's a good idea to clean that shit up anyway.

My desk is full of old papers and files I've kept "just in case I need it later" because I'm a packrat. And now its time to purge purge purge!

Kind of like if you die, you don't want relatives and friends to find your porn stash, you know?

If I don't show up for work next week I don't want anyone to find any notes or stick man figures I might have drawn during conference calls and whatnot.

And all those lolcats I've saved to my documents folder.

BRB purging

Hello cool weather. Let's make out!

2009-10-06T09:47:00.000-07:00

We opened all the windows of our apartment this past weekend and enjoyed the fresh cool air as it filtered in and settled about the room. The slight chill felt oh so good after the previous week's scorching temps.

And we haven't closed the windows since! Well, until last night.

A neighbor decided to play some music on super loud mode starting at around 9:30 last night. We had to shut the living room window to be able to hear the television. Unfortunately it didn't drown out the thump... thump... thump of the bass reverberating through the walls and floors and dear god it never stopped. We had to shut the bedroom windows when we went to bed as well. That left us with no fresh, cold air to help lull us to sleep. :(

But it was still cold enough outside that we didn't need the a/c to fall asleep! Yay! The HB needs the room to be frigid before he can fall asleep. I don't need it that cold necessarily, but I'm so used to falling asleep in the cold now that it certainly helps.

Despite the thump, thump, thump of the walls we slept. I woke up this morning to discover another day full of pleasantly cool weather. It filled me to the brim with warm fuzzies in contrast.

It's so cool in the office today I'm wearing a sweatshirt. Mmm mmm comfy sweatshirt. One of the reasons I prefer fall/winter to summer: the sweatshirts! It's like a blanket with sleeves! And not as silly looking as a snuggy.

Today I'm rockin' my Avenue Q sweatshirt. Man, that was such a kick ass play. I never thought I would laugh so hard watching muppets have sex.

This weekend the HB and I will be seeing Spamalot. I'm excited and nervous all at the same time. I've picked two winners so far that the HB has thoroughly enjoyed, Wicked and Avenue Q, despite any apprehensions he had before the shows. I hope he gets a kick out of this one too or it might be awhile before I can talk him into another musical.

Oh, I just thought of something! I might be able to get a Spamalot sweatshirt! And if it stays cool throughout the weekend I might get to wear it right away. But not while I'm still at the play mind you. Don't worry Droz, I won't "be that guy."

I live in California, so by cold and cool and chilly I'm talking 70's weather so far. Which feels damn nice after triple digit weather just a couple of days ago. I was talking with some friends the other day about making a trip to Canada next time we get together. They joked about going during the winter time. "Guys," I said. "I'd love to go to Canada, but during the winter? I'd have to buy all new clothes!" They then reminded me I'm a girl and that that should be seen as a plus. But I don't know... the warmest thing I own is this sweatshirt. That won't exactly cut it in snow weather. I wouldn't even know what to buy.

Come to think of it, I haven't seen snow in... wow, 11 years now. And the snow that fell during those couple of days belonged in the Wussy Snow category so it barely counts. I would be so out of my element in actual Snow Country. But I know I'd love it anyway.

For now though, I'll be reveling in the fact that today's high will be a gorgeous 77 degrees.

*smooch* *smooch* *smooch*

Dear Boyfriend,

2009-10-01T08:10:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm no longer going to school and we're waking up at roughly the same time each morning, and getting dressed around the same time, and leaving for work at the same time, it'd be great if you could make sure I don't leave the apartment with my shirt on inside out.

Thanks!

Your Clothing Challenged Sweetie,
Lisa

My psychic powers kick ass!

2009-09-24T14:41:00.000-07:00

Normally, at work, if I'm cold I'll adjust the a/c up a degree or two. Problem solved!

Or, if Other Office Chick is in the office, we take turns messing with the thermostat. When I get cold I turn it up a few degrees. When she feels stuffy and claustrophobic, the a/c gets dialed down a couple of degrees and I try not to freeze.

Normally, this isn't a big deal.

Normally, sure, I'll get cold, but hey, at least I'm not working outside! I suck it up, continue on with my work, and wait for Other Office Chick to go out for lunch or head to a meeting so I can bump the a/c up again.

Normally, this isn't a situation that would compel me to put ~~pen to paper~~ fingers to keyboard.

Today though, today I was freakishly cold. The a/c was hovering around 74 degrees but to me it felt like 64. I tried blaming it on my wet hair, but I've had wet hair before and I've never felt so cold in a really-not-that-cold room. I felt almost flu-like cold. I'm not sick, thank Elvis, but for some reason... well, there was just something plain wrong with me.

I was going to suffer being so freakishly cold for no good reason but then I thought, 'Dang it! I have a sweatshirt in the car! That's why its there!' and decided not to be a lazy ass and make the small hike to the car.

The sweatshirt has been in the car since last winter. During the cold season I wear a sweater/sweatshirt every day in the office because yes, even in winter these silly office coworkers like to turn the a/c on. I left the sweatshirt in the car in case I needed it one day, and I've thought on a couple of occasions over the last few weeks, 'Hey! I'm cold! Maybe I should go get it!'

But then I think about how hot it is outside and realize staying inside is a much better idea. And eventually I forget that it's cold. And then Other Office Chick leaves and I can set the thermostat back to a more comfortable level.

But today... something compelled me to go outside and grab the sweatshirt.

And after I did? Well, it was so hot outside I quickly got over my cold spell. My hair dried up. I got super warm. And by the time I returned to the office I was no longer in need of a sweatshirt.

'Oh well,' I thought, and chalked it up to a nice mini diversion from work.

And then three hours later my pants ripped.

I'm not talking about a little tear either.

I think they heard the horrible rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrripping sound all the way in the next county.

The hole in my pants is almost too big for my hand to cover, as if I wanted to walk around with my hand over my ass for the next few hours.

Holy crap, if I didn't have my sweatshirt I don't know what I'd do!

Wear my pants backwards and hold some object in front of the massive hole?

"Oh, hi, don't mind me! I'm just carrying this empty box out to my car in a really weird way. Thanks for not looking too closely at my pants!"

I don't know what Other Office Chick was thinking after she heard the rrrrrrrrrrripping noise. Two rrrrrrripping noises actually, as I moved too fast in my chair in a 'what the hell?' kind of move that made the pants rip again. Did she think I farted? Does she know the sound of ripping pants and know that I do indeed have a huge hole in the ass of my pants now?

Can this day be over already so I can go home, throw these pants away, and pretend this never happened?

Stupid pants. :(

But hey! I've got psychic powers now apparently. Because that's too much of a coincidence to be anything else. The one time I go out to my car for the sweatshirt is the one time I tear a big ass hole where the left cheek pocket used to be. What are the odds?!

Stupid pants. :(

The fruit worries the approving bread under the pride.

2009-09-11T09:37:00.000-07:00

The last couple of days I've not had much to eat for lunch. I've subsisted on granola bars and crackers and while both are quite yummy, especially when paired with a cup of coffee, neither is very filling. Yesterday I did have some nuked leftovers, but I ate that more as a brunch than a lunch, so by the end of the day I was starving.

This morning though, I packed a GLORIOUS lunch:

1.5 peanut butter (generic non crunchy) & jelly (smuckers raspberry) sandwich on wheat bread
1 yogurt (raspberry)
1 tupperware container full of chopped up chunks of watermelon, cantaloupe, & honey dew melon

Okay, not really that glorious, but it sure as hell beats the last couple of lunches I've had.

I was pleased with my selection of munchies for the day. Then Visitor Guy (who's here for the day, visiting from a sister facility) walked over and said, "I'm going to Farmer Boys to pick up something to eat. What do you want?" And my munchies seemed not so munchable.

"Oh. Nothing. I'm good," I said, while hoping I wasn't visibly salivating.

"You sure?"

I looked sadly at the pb&j sitting on my desk. I brought lunch, I reminded myself. And I love pb&j sandwiches so I should be satisfied with that. Farmer Boys is greasy and good but greasy and that's bad, bad, bad.

"I'm sure. I brought food. I'm good."

"Come on, it's on The Company."

Oh... Well...

Then he flashed me the corporate card he'll be charging breakfast to.

"I'll have a breakfast sandwich!"

Of all the days he showed up with his fancy shmancy corporate charge card, he had to pick the day I actually managed to bring food with me!

Grrrrrrr.

I guess I could have said no. Been good and stayed with my semi healthy lunch. But its free food. At the expense of the company! I haven't gotten a raise in years. I'll take what I can get.

Show Me On The Doll Where The Bad Word Touched You

2009-09-03T13:38:00.000-07:00

Fail.

Less than 24hrs fresh from harassment training and I'm already using inappropriate words.

"Hey Lisa," says a co-worker. "Do you have a flashlight?"

My mind instantly flashes (heh) to the mini flashlight hanging from a zipper on my backpack that I received from a butt-kissin' vendor. The thing technically works. It does produce light when the button is pushed, but you can't see shit from the faint wisp of light than emanates from its light-emanating orifice.

So I say to my colleague, "Yeah, but its retarded--"

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh crap.

"I apologize for my inappropriate word," I say to my co-worker, one of the dudes I sat next to during the airing of the cheesy (are there any that aren't?) harassment video.

He waives his hand in a casual 'fuggedaboutit' move and chuckles. "I'm not offended."

"Yeah, but it's still offensive. And I'm bad for saying it."

I feel horrible now.

The word just slid right out!

I was on a kick some months ago, using that word way too much. It filled me with inappropriate joy to do so. I'm not proud to admit it, but I will.

I blame this blog, on the writer's obvious joy from using the word. I read the blog and started using myself. It was addictive. Especially when said with a horribly faked Boston accent. "That's wicked retahhhhded."

But I made a concerted effort not to use that word after awhile and I was doing a really good job of it too. That is, until I watched the video yesterday. It shoved that word right back into my Vocab Database.

Oh yeah, I thought as I watched Inappropriate Office Worker Number 1 in the video use that word in front of Offended Office Worker Number 2, I used to say that word in front of coworkers!

I get really bothered by some of the other examples demonstrated in that video, which put a double whammy of shame on me for ever using an inappropriate word. If the video's purpose was to make me feel bad for ever saying The "R" Word... well, mission accomplished. And rightly so.

And now I've gone and said it again.

:( :( :( :(

I blame Inappropriate Office Worker Number 1.

Plan B

2009-09-03T10:40:00.000-07:00

So things are going good in HB-land. Everybody chilled out, except for the asshat who wouldn't chill out even if a chill pill was administered to him rectally. (Amusing mental image is amusing.) I think the HB actually started to enjoy himself on the Dreaded Business Trip of Doom. But now they're shipping him back a week early to fix a problem back here.

So yippee for me!

But... ummm... that means I need to scrap my plans for the upcoming Super Productive Weekend, an awesome two-day event where I planned to do all kinds of errands and chores (no really, actual plans and stuff!) and do them... holy crap, tonight!

Yeah...

That's not going to happen.

Well, the errands I can save for the weekend still. They are sanctioned for Boyfriend Drag-A-Longs. But all the spiffy chores I was going to have done as a welcome home pressie? Meh.

I'll make my lazy ass wash some dishes at least.

Laundry is out, as we still live in the same non-washing-machine-furnished apartment and the temperature this week has been dancing in triple digits while wearing a big sombrero of humidity. Bleagh. I really don't care to make a trek across the parking lot to the non-air-conditioned hotbox just to wash towels. Screw that.

I'll, um... sort out the recycling a bit instead. Yeah. Because that'll take all of five minutes.

Oh, come to think of it! I probably have some time on Friday as well. I don't know what the HB's ETA is but I bet his ass won't get in until midnight or some silly crap like that.

I think I might even mop the bathroom floor!

That'd be a nice "I'm Sorry The Big Mean Boss Made You Fly Out Of Town Here Smell This Floor Its Pine-y Fresh" kind of gift. One he'd really appreciate.

I am Domestic Goddess. Hear me ~~roar~~ vacuum.

This. Is. SPARTA! No, really. I'm wearing a loincloth and everything!

2009-09-01T14:42:00.000-07:00

It's hard when your sweetie is on the other side of the continent and having a crap time of it. We chatted online last night but there was nothing I could have done to cheer him up, short of flashing a boob on a webcam, which, I'm sure, would have had some sort of perk up power. Alas, I am webcamless.

I tried agreeing with him because yes, some of the people he works with are ginormous asshats. And yes, it sucks to be harassed by the people you're there to help before you get the chance to check into the hotel. It's not like he arrived in the morning and had plans to head over in the afternoon. His plane landed in the early evening. That's, like, after "leave work and go home" time, not prime "hey let's generate reports!" time. He's going to be there for two full weeks, it's not like there won't be ample time to use and abuse him.

I tried cracking a few jokes as we chatted, but was afraid to be too cheery/optimistic. Still, it seemed as though there was nothing in my power to turn his :( upside down.

And that made me :(

Hopefully, after a full day there under his belt, his outlook on the remaining two weeks will improve. But I'm dreading the melancholy of tonight's chat.

On a more positive note, there are some things I'm enjoying about being HB-less for a couple weeks. I can walk around the apartment in my underwear! Woooo!

Yeah, that might get old by next week. But last night? There was no one around to see my chunky thighs. My beloved HB loves me, chunky thighs and all, but I just don't feel comfortable walking around in unmentionables all the time. But last night? I was rockin' the hell out of my Shirt+Undies Combo of Awesome.

Also, I do enjoy having the bathroom all to myself in the morning. When I was still in school I was waking up at least an hour before him. I could wander from the bathroom to the kitchen to the living room to the bathroom to whatever. At my leisure. In whatever order my still-waking-up brain slotted them. And not worry about him confiscating the bathroom before I'd had the chance to brush my teeth.

Let's see... anything else to add to the plus column? Oh! I'm going to pickup Subway one night! That silly man of mine does not like Subway. Sometimes I can talk him into going to Quiznos, but those trips are rare. I could always get my Subway fix during my lunch break at work, but lately it's just a pain in the ass to do so. So tonight... we dine... AT SUBWAY!

/300

Hmmm... what else? Oh! I don't have to clean up after myself! He's the neat freak of the bunch so I can be super messy the next two weeks. Not that that is particularly fun but, um... I don't have to hang my clothes up! I can leave them in the basket, like, um... they have been for a week. While he was still here. So okay, things were a mess before he left. But I have TWO WEEKS before I have to clean any of it up!

No that I have to clean anything. I just figured it'd be a nice welcome home to see stuff picked up/put away.

Anything else?

Hmmm...

I have control of the television remote! That means no more Man vs Food repeat marathons or horrible ~~sci-fi~~ syfy channel crap-fest b-movie of the weeks.

And...

Yeah, that's it.

The "plusses" don't really add up to much.

Not when I have trouble falling asleep at night without him beside me, knowing how far away he is.

S is for the way you SUCK at communication.

2009-08-27T11:41:00.000-07:00

I really dislike working with idiots, morons, a-holes, douche-nozzles, twat-waffles or anyone else that falls into that circus of People Who Irritate Me. But then, who does? If you do, what's the secret? And don't say booze.

It's even more frustrating sometimes working with a friend, someone I know who can be quite intelligent, when they insist on being the most difficult human being on the planet.

Okay. That may be a bit of an over exaggeration. He's just being the most difficult human in this zip code.

He sends me an email that basically says 'hey, here's a job that needs to get done, stuff needs to be ordered.' Because that's my job: to order stuff.

I take a look at the order and note some discrepancies. One section of the order says "X" is needed. Another section says "Y" is needed.

The numbers are very similar, but not exact. Since I want to make sure the right thing gets ordered, I reply back to Mr. Pain N. Ass with a very pleasant and very work appropriate version of what is essentially "WTF?"

No, really, I wrote out my concerns to make it as plain as dirt. "This says X and this says Y. Are they the same? If not please clarify."

Hey! That rhymes! I think I shall call it Ode To Asshat.

These two emails were exchanged on Tuesday. Wednesday morning arrives, and to work so do I, and when I open my emails I see that no reply has been sent. Okay, no biggie. I'll send another email!

"Wasssssup? Hey bro, can you look at the email I sent yesterday? Need more 4-1-1 on the order, yo!"

This morning? Yeah. Still nothing. Sigh. Okay. He replied to every other email I sent him in the last two days, maybe he just missed ~~this one~~ these two. And I have that sneaky little 'read receipt' action going so I know he hasn't even opened them yet.

So I send out Email Number Three this morning while I make a mental note to call him about it later. But he replies back to my voice messages even less frequently than he does my emails so I'd have to catch him when he's not screening calls.

Before I get the chance to act on the mental note he calls me about some other issue he has.

"Oh, by the way," I say. "Take a look at that email I sent out this morning when you get the chance."

"I'm going to be busy all day," he says. "In and out of meetings," he says.

"Okay... but if you get the chance..."

"Thursday is my busiest day."

"Yeah. Got it. You're a busy fellow. You tell me that every chance you get. But please, just take a look at it when you get a moment. I'd liked to finish processing the order--"

"Just order the parts," he says before I can finish my sentence.

I took a deep breath. Counted to 10. Refrained from banging the phone on my desk.

"I can't. That's why I sent you the email, which will take one minute of your time to read and respond to, SO WHEN YOU GET A FREE MINUTE..."

This is the kind of relationship we have. One day we'll be all sunshine and smiles and rainbow farts galore. The next we're a bunch of bitchy cats hissing at each other.

He continued to throw up more excuses as to why he couldn't read my email. At no point did I ever say it was a dire emergency that required IMMEDIATE attention so I'm getting frazzled that he has THE NERVE to get frazzled at me. I was just giving him a verbal post-it note to read a damn email when he had some damn free time. Even if it was tomorrow. That was all. No pressure.

All he had to say was, 'I'll take a look at it when I can.'

S I M P L E

We hang up. Less than a minute later the twerp reads the email. Too busy my ass.

Then, because he likes being an ass, he responds by not responding to my original question. This is a staple in his Email Reply Repertoire.

My question was this: "X doesn't match Y. Are they the same? If not, which is needed?"

His response could have been one of the following:

1) X
2) Y
3) yes, they're the same

Either would have been perfectly acceptable. (Heh. "Acceptable." That sounds so catty.)

His actual response was this: "Order 5. They replaced the WRTT (Work Related Technical Term) without telling anyone."

Seriously. Nowhere in that reply is the answer to my inquiry. It's like trying to decode a puzzle without a decoder ring.

My reply to the reply was thus: "Yeah. I know to order 5. That wasn't the question. My question had to do with two different part numbers being listed on the order. ARE THEY THE SAME PART OR NOT?"

I've caught problems like this before. Slight mix ups. Slight typos. Shit happens. I like to keep that shit to a minimum. Shame on me.

His next reply, and I swear this is a direct copy+paste: "Not the same machine was altered tai"

Sigh.

It took me awhile to figure out he missed a period in there. I was thinking he meant "not the same machine" and I was ready to hit something. So, okay, not the same. That still doesn't tell me which to order. And the last bit? No friggin clue.

I called his extension but it rang and rang until it went to voice mail.

My follow up reply instead: "Not the same part. Got it. So which part IS needed? And what the hell does "tai" mean? Call me when you're not busy. I need help deciphering your crazy language."

A couple of minutes later he called.

And clarification was finally achieved.

Five seconds of his life to say 'order this one not that one.' It required no further research on his part. All he had to do was look at the numbers and go 'oh, this one.'

S I M P L E

Yet the ability to type that in an email was beyond his capabilities. Don't give me a history of the machine. I don't care. I. Don't. Care. Just answer the damn question.

I know he's not stupid, so I'm left believing he's doing it just to be a pain in my ass. To 'get my goat' as the ol' goat would say.

I think I'll blame my premature grey hair on him.

Super Internet Trooper To The Rescue

2009-08-24T11:08:00.000-07:00

Saving Kittens and Parents from Evil Emails one Evil Email at a time!

Probably too long to fit on a business card, no?

My mom forwarded me an email the other day about this 'new fad' in Japan where women are wearing skirts with prints on the back that make it look like their skirt is invisible. At first I thought, 'Huh. Weird.' By the time I got to the last picture I was thinking, "Oh please, my cat could use photoshop better than that."

Since my suspicious meter was bouncing off the charts I googled the first line of the email and found a link to snopes. As it turns out, as it does probably 90% of the time, the email was spreading around false information.

The pictures are real; real in the sense that they really do appear in porno mags. Porno magazines catering to clientele that like to look at women in their underwear.

Heh.

My mom forwarded me porn.

I replied back to the email with a link to the snopes article and a brief explanation as to where the pictures came from. I hope my mom doesn't feel bad when I reply with a snopes-link. This wouldn't be the first one I've sent.

I still have this email exchange flagged in the name of All That Is Awesome in my inbox at work. I save it for rainy days when I need a smile.

From: Dad
Subject: FW:
Date: Thu, 7 Jun 2007 15:30:44
To: a bunch of people (8+)

FREE LAPTOP
Hi! We want you to like us! So we're giving away free laptops! Because that makes total sense! Just send this email to 8 people and you'll get a FREE LAPTOP! Wheee!

Make sure you send a copy to: some.poor.sucker @ company.com

From: Mom
Subject: Fwd: FW:
Sent: Friday, June 8, 2007 11:17 AM
To: a bunch of people (8+)

Same email pyramid as before, just one tier higher.

From: ~~Spam Police~~ A Thoughtful Daughter
Subject: Re: FW:
To: Mom and Dad

Ack! Stop the insanity!

I can't believe you guys fell for it.

snopeslink

Suckers! :)

But don't worry, I still love you.

*hugs*

From: Mom
To: Daughter

Daddy made me do it. Love you too. Mom.

From: Daughter
To: Mom

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

From: Mom
To: Daughter

I'm serious. I don't want or need a new computer. So there.

I see her sticking her tongue out at the screen every time I read that.

And okay, maybe I could have broke it to them more gently. Maybe buy a 'Welcome to the Internet: It's Full of Lies' card and slip it into a wine gift basket. I was just highly amused they, and everyone else who forwarded that email before them, thought they'd get a free laptop. But I was just jaded by that time, having seen several similar emails before that.

Bill Gates never did give me that money he promised. :(

Mamma's little baby loves clambake, clambake

2009-08-20T11:03:00.000-07:00

Oh Dear Elvis... I showed up to work today with my shirt on inside out.

I know I headed off to work this morning wearing one navy blue sock with one black sock and black pants. That was done, however reluctantly, on purpose. I've been delaying the Inevitable Laundry Session that I know will come whether I want it to or not. No matter how much I ignore its existence, the emptiness of my underwear drawer will not magically reverse itself.

But if it could? Awesome squared!

I have enough undies to make it to the weekend, which is when I can do laundry at 7 or 8 in the morning before it gets all butt-ass melty hot outside. Bleagh. But my socks? They fare not so well. I've been down to mismatched socks since Tuesday. And now I'm down to socks that aren't even from the same species of sock-dom. Hello random halloween themed sock!

But the mismatched socks I could deal with. My feet are under a desk for most of the day, and hardly anyone, if any at all, would notice. But my shirt?!

Holy frack nuggets Batman!

Good thing I was bored during my morning meeting, and looking down, and checking out my chest (as a byproduct of being bored, mind you, I don't normally check out my chest. Well, that often anyway...) Anywho! I was wearing a v-neck shirt and as I was looking down I noticed the fabric sticking out where the two lines of the V meet.

And I thought to my self, 'well that looks weird... what the... oh. Crap.'

Sigh.

Thankfully nobody noticed. Because I refuse to believe otherwise.

In other news, I received a spammy email the other day that advertised a drug that could make me "wild and woozy." I thought that would be an interesting combination. "Woohoo! Let's go skinny dipping! Right after I sit down though because I'm a bit dizzy!" Sign me up.

How Sex The Bot

2009-08-19T13:43:00.000-07:00

I haven't talked dirty to mr. jabberwacky in awhile so I thought I'd stroll on over and chat him up. The first few sentences are written from memory since the silly servers went all wonky on me and timed out before I could copy-paste.

Jabby: Can you think?

Me: I think I can.

What does that mean?

Are you dense?

(A very sassy remark which I can not remember for the life of me, and neither can the jabberwacky servers.)

Are you sassin' me? Because I'm not in the mood to be sassin'.

Can you get in the mood?

Depends, Sugar. Can you get me there?

*hands you the contraband*

What is that? Sounds kinky.

Oh it is.

RAWR!

Lol! XD.

ZOMG UR SO CUTE ^^

Good luck, I have 7 proxies.

I had to stop there. I el-oh-el'd for reals in front of co-works and figured I'd best get back to work before they got suspicious.

Until we chat again, my sweet Jabby. Keep those proxies warm for me.

A Bit Of Random

2009-08-14T10:11:00.000-07:00

I opened up this word doc to write about one thing and ended up with something completely different. When the muse needs to vent, the muse needs to vent! I blame the heat.

Random #1

I've been finding about an ant a day crawling across my desk for the past week.

First ant? Poor fella. He must have gotten lost.

*squish*

Second ant? Hmmm... Interesting.

*squish*

Third ant? Okay, who hid the candy behind my desk?

*squish*

Fourth ant? I'm starting to think I should probably mention this to someone. I'm not sure I can take more karma hits from all that ant-icides I've performed this week.

*squish*

Random #2

My boss is pretty cool. He's offered to hook me up with friends or family to help out with X and Y and Z. But I'd still never befriend him on facebook, even if I knew he was there. And if for some reason he found me and befriended me, and I had a crazy moment and accepted, I'd like to think I'd be smart enough not to log in to facebook and complain what a wanker he is.

Random #3

This is Day Three of The Great Office Sauna Saga.

Three days that the air conditioner hasn't worked. Yesterday, when I finally escaped this hellhole, the thermostat said it was 87 degrees in here. Eighty Mutha Effin Seven Degrees. I'm surprised I got as much work done as I did. When I was in the middle of a project I focused in and lost track of time and forgot for a glorious yet brief moment that I was stewing in the office. But when I finished? And I had to think of what to do next? It was hard to get that focus back. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to move.

The best part was when someone came into the office, sat down, and a few moments later said, "Did you know that its 85 degrees in here?"

"Holy shit, really? I hadn't noticed!"

I swear, some people get so touchy when I answer their stupid question with sarcasm. Am I supposed to thank them for making me aware of my office's sauna status?

And yes, I'm still cranky about it. Because its frickin hot in here! Ugh.

I hear something on the roof right now. I hope its either the A/C people fixing things or Godzilla getting ready to attack and put me out of my misery.

Note To Self # 45837

2009-08-12T09:44:00.000-07:00

Note To Self:

Don't wear a shirt with one type of neck shape (i.e. rectangular) when over the weekend you got sunburned while wearing a shirt with a different shaped neck (i.e. triangular). It makes the pasty whiteness even pastier.

And it makes you look funny.

So try to not to do it again.

F is for...

2009-07-30T12:06:00.000-07:00

Frank! Freud! Francis! François!

Ford!

Uh...

Filbert!

Frankenstein!

Okay, I was stretching it with those last two.

"Last two?" says my inner heckler.

My mind is clogged and can't think of any more boy names that start with the letter F.

Fred!

There, just thought of another. Bitch and ye shall receive.

During lunch I played the Twist-The-Stem-Off-The-Apple game - the game where each twist is a letter of the alphabet, and the letter you say when the stem snaps off represents the first letter of a boy's name who... um...

... is thinking of you?

... secretly has a crush on you?

... luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuves you?

I don't remember the exact level of affection the magical stem foretells, but the twisting game is still a habit I fall into now and again.

Sorry boys, but if your first name is near the end of the alphabet you are so screwed. Poor William. Poor Zachary. They only get to like/crush/luuuuuve the girls that have mutant apples for lunch, mutant apples with stems that have the fortitude of a bungee cord.

Nowadays I just twist and say the alphabet and then amuse myself with whatever letter I come up with. (Fabio!) When I was much younger, however, if there was a letter I wanted the apple stem to "magically" break off at, I'd have to be careful. If I wanted to get to a letter near the middle of the alphabet I had to employ the tiniest of quarter twists.

"Jayyyyyy..."

"Kayyyyyyy..."

"Ell-"

*snap*

"Poop!"

Yes, I'm sure I said poop back then because I was young and innocent and didn't know "Shit!" or even "Crap!" was so much more satisfying to say. Now, of course, I am old and corrupted and savor a good curse like a Pillsbury crescent roll fresh out of the oven

Today's apple was delicious, much like a Pillsbury crescent roll would be but I don't have any so why did I have to go thinking about yummy crescent flakiness because now I'm hungry again and I didn't bring another apple... crap!

So yes, the apple was delicious, if not fulfilling, but who is this F fella and does this crush of his involve buying me ~~candy~~Pillsbury crescent rolls and sending me notes during first period?

Stick a tenedor in me, I'm done!

2009-07-28T15:13:00.000-07:00

Tenedor is the Spanish word for fork. Which I learned in Spanish... 002? So 2 quarters ago. Or is that 3 quarters ago now that SPN004 is actually over?

Anyway... the point is that I already forgot the word and had to look it up. Go Go Super Brain!

~~It doesn't matter though because I'll never use Spanish again! Well... not until the next time I visit with the HB's parents.~~

Ahem.

It doesn't matter though because I don't have to take Spanish 005! Yippee!

That's right. No more classes for me. I'm now a college graduate! After many years of college, and just as many non-years of college, (aka The I'll-Take-A-Break-For-Just-This-One-Quarter Syndrome) I'm finally done. Done done diggity done.

A quick timeline:

I graduated high school/started college in '97
moved at the end of the third school year in '00
went to a new school that fall
took the following winter quarter off
aliens abducted me
next thing I knew several years had passed
screwed in the 'hey this would be a fun major' light bulb above my head in august of '05
went to a jc that semester while I scrambled to enroll at the UC
started classes there in the winter of '06
took my last class in the summer of '09

Great googly moogly! It took me awhile, didn't it?

SPN004 was a summer school class, and since there was no way in hell I was waiting for the end of the upcoming fall quarter to spend 50+ bucks on a 50 cent grad gown (what a crock) I opted to attended the commencement ceremony at the end of the spring quarter, which happened to be last month.

I got my fake little paper diploma and gorgeous flowers from the HB and a special dinner treat from the parents and all the warm fuzzies that come with pretending you're now somehow more special than you were before you walked across the stage to shake some stranger's hand whom everyone kept referring to as the Chancellor.

Like I gave two hamster craps about that guy. He's just some random dude to me, and new to the job at that! I didn't have time to build up my admiration for him to the elusive Three Hamster Craps level. Let me shake hands with the lady who sold me the best egg sandwiches in the world from the little deli attached to the records office. Now there's a gal who improved my college experience. Seriously. Those egg sandwiches were magical. Magically delicious.

It was a nice enough ceremony even though the Special Guest Speakers thought we, the audience, wanted them to speak three times as long as we had the attention span for. I got a little giddy every time I thought, 'wow, I'm actually here, I'm actually graduating,' but it didn't feel real. It wouldn't until it was official, until I took that one last requirement during summer school.

The weekend after the grad ceremony I was up visiting my parents for a big family gathering. Everyone gave me verbal high fives with a few 'finally's thrown into the mix. Yes, yes, I finally graduated. Go me.

A couple conversations went as such:

"So you're finally done? Time to celebrate!"

"Uh, not really. I still have one more class to take."

"But that's just summer school. You're as good as done!"

"Ok. Sure. Woooo. Celebrate time."

But it was a half hearted woooo at best.

Sure, I celebrated. And sure, I was in happy happy joy joy mode. But I didn't feel done. It didn't feel real. (Does that even makes sense?) And then, last Friday, I took the final for SPN004. The last test I will ever take. Ever. Unless I go back for my masters. But that's another story all together.

This was, for all intents and purposes, the LAST TEST I WOULD EVER HAVE TO TAKE.

I sat there and stared at my finished test longer than I should have. I just kept looking at it for any errors I might have made, without really looking at it. Then I thought, 'what the hell am I doing? It's good enough to pass!' I got up, handed it to the prof, thanked him for whatever, walked out the door, down the stairs, and out another door and into the fresh air.

And then it hit me.

That was it.

That was the last test I'd ever have to take.

And I got giddy. Like real giddy.

I balled up my hands into fat little fists of joy and if I'd been in a movie I would have thrown them up in the air and broken out into song.

But I wasn't in a movie so I reigned that shit in and called the HB instead.

I got teary eyed as I walked to my car, waiting for the call to go through. I almost started crying for crying out loud. What's up with that? It's just a stupid test for a stupid class for a stupid degree. It's not like I had to fight insurmountable odds and struggle through adversity to graduate. They won't be making a Lifetime Made-For-TV-Movie about my journey from Slackerhood to Graduationville. And I certainly can't wear my achievement like a Girl Scout badge. (Though that's an idea for another day though...) No, I just graduated. And got emotional about it. And for some silly reason I felt silly about that.

And no, dear inquiring friends, I don't know what I'm going to do with my BA in Creative Writing.

And no, dear inquisitive family members, I'm not going to quit my job and write a novel.

Not that I haven't been tempted.

I'm just going to... enjoy not being in school for awhile. And enjoy not paying for school for awhile. And make it up as I go.

I should probably have a plan. That'd be the smart thing to do. And I'm a graduate now! I have teh smartz! So yeah, I'll have to work on that. But I'm not going to feel bad for not having one yet. I'm not I'm not I'm not.

Another Question

2009-07-27T13:43:00.000-07:00

Why?

Why did this bra manufacturer feel the need to place a flower-shaped petrified rock/bow combo in the middle of the bra?

Because, seriously...

It looks like I have a third nipple.

So. Not. Wanted.

In other, happier, non mutant-third-nipple news:

I'm in love with Pandora, especially the Jack Johnson channel. The station does tend to play too much Dave Mathews and Coldplay and John Mayer at times, but we're still in the honeymoon phase of our love affair so some things can be overlooked.

Unlike my recently acquired third nipple.

Which shall hence forth referred to as Señor Nip.

Until, of course, I get home and find a pair of scissors.

Then its hasta la vista Señor Nip!

I Has Question

2009-07-23T14:44:00.000-07:00

Man, this place has been neglected like a sandy vagina. Let's remedy that, shall we?

Because you see, I have this question. Not an IMPORTANT question or even an INTERESTING question. Just a thing that made me go HMMMM.

If I send an email to someone requesting something, and end it with a "thanks for the help", do I need to send another 'thanks' email in reply once that someone follows up with the request? It seems a bit redundant. I already said thanks; I don't want to beat them over the head with it. But not saying it makes me feel guilty. Especially since it’s a work related email because those should be handled differently, than, say, my friend Jack sending me a picture of kitty porn.

Not that I can't find that stuff for myself mind you.

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Here's an example of a recent email exchange between me and a vendor I deal with at work that inspired this awesome post.

From: Moi
To: Person I Need Help From
Subject: Dude, where's my invoice?

Hello Person I Need Help From. Could you email me a copy of an invoice from FOREVER AGO. Blah blah relevant info to aid in your search for the desired invoice. Thanks in advance for the help.

To: Person in Need
From: Person With The Goods
Re: Dude?

Here it is. I thought I'd never find it! :-)
Nicey nicey warm wishes.

I thought about responding with a "Thanks!"...

...then thought, "but I already said thanks"...

...and then thought, "she was nice about it... and quick too"...

... and then thought about responding to her 'finding it' comment with a "I know OMG its so old lolololol :) :) :)"...

... and then I felt nuttered for even thinking that.

The internets. They have warped me.

Sigh.

Maybe I shouldn't include the preemptive 'thanks' with the original email; that would save all this pondering. But then the email doesn't sound nice enough. And I want it to be exploding with niceties because I'm asking someone for a favor. Maybe I should send them another email and clutter their damn email box with thank you's and smilie faces and all around warm communicative fuzzies.

I don't know what it is exactly; I have this paralyzing fear of being cute in my work emails. And the ones where I send Jack kitty porn don't count. Which reminds me... Jack is due for an email!

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

So why not just be boring and respond with a plain, "Thanks"? Good question Self. You're an idiot. Excellent answer Self.

Am I making an email faux pas by not replying back with my humblest of thanks and praise? Inquiring neurotics want to know. Because if so? I have a lot of emails to reply to :(

This office needs a waffle maker

2009-05-12T08:33:00.000-07:00

A waffle a day makes the... uh... something something something. On second thought, too many people might hang out back here with the waffler in residence. Screw that.

Here's another thought: I really need to start blogging more. And writing less bitchy posts. Or at least more non-bitchy posts so that all I post is not just bitchy posts.

Hmmm...

As I ponder the situation I come to the conclusion that I don't think I should stop the bitchy posts completely. I do so enjoy writing them.

But really, what else is there to write about?

Oh, lots. I know. But all the good stuff lately is written in my head before I ever get to a computer/notebook and then it never makes it up on the screen.

So until the good stuff happens I'm going to write about...

Hmmm...

Yeah. I got nothing this morning.

Oh! I'll write about this dream that weirded me out the other day. It wasn't one of those "wrap Tilda Swinton up in a blanket and beat her unconscious with a miniature silver shovel" type of weird.** I haven't had one of those super disturbing dreams in a while. This dream was one of those glitch-in-the-matrix dreams.

1) I'd been wondering for weeks now where some missing pants had sauntered off to...

2) Friday afternoon a thought popped into my head that they might be in the closet...

3) I file that thought away...

4) and then I have a dream that night that I found them exactly where I suspected them to be...

5) When I wake up the next day, the memory is in my head as an actual event, not a dream...

6) so while I'm looking for something else in a different part of my room and find my pants and think, 'what the hell, I'd already found them in the closet!'

Not exactly a premonition dream. But what are the odds that I find my missing pants after I find them in my dream?

Hmmmmmmmmm??????

Yeah, okay. I know that no one finds that as interesting as I do. I mentioned it to the HB and his sister later that day and got no reaction out of them whatsoever.

But I dreamed I found them in the closet then woke up and found them under my desk! Get it?!

Sigh.

Maybe I should just stick to bitchy posts.

** Okay, I just did a search through my posts and couldn't find anything about that Tilda Swinton dream. How did I never write about that?! It was fascinating and disturbing all at the same time. I mean, I was hitting her with a shovel! Really, really hard too. I can still see her looking up at me, all serene like, as I whacked her uncontrollably with my little shovel. Uggggh.

Why?

2009-05-11T10:46:00.000-07:00

Why must people take it upon themselves to inform me that my face is sunburned.

Really? My face is sunburned? I hadn't noticed. Nope. No mirrors in my house. Or in my car. Oh! And you know what? I can't feel the heat radiating off of my face like a disco inferno. No way, Jose. And every time I touch my face the skin doesn't feel like it just wrestled with a giant tumbleweed. So thanks Fellow Coworkers for stating the fucking obvious. Because I obviously didn't know!

If you are curious as to why my face is a tomato, then please, by all means, inquire into it. I will tell you I had a fantastic time this weekend. But don't try and start the conversation off with a dumb ass remark. Because all you'll get is a smart ass remark in return.

Him: "Hey! You're face is sunburned."

Me: "Hmmm. I hadn't noticed."

Him: "You hadn't noticed?"

Me: "Noooooooooope."

Him: "Errrr..."

Me: "Hold on, I need to ignore you now and make a phone call."

I'm secluded in the back office and have only seen two people today. And both have made these brilliant observations. And now? I have to go to school. Where I'll be surrounded by people. Some of whom will be endowed with a keen sense of Must State The Obvious.

If only I had a biting comeback for all of them. Because really, after the first person let's you know you've got a sunburn, it gets really annoying really fast.

I need a t-shirt for just such an occasion. One that reads:

"My sunburn irritates me. You will too if you mention it."

But with more snarky attitude. And with a picture of a crazy lady with a gun or butter knife or something underneath so they know I mean business.

T H R E E - O H

2009-05-09T06:32:00.000-07:00

Why is it, when I woke up at 6 am on tuesday I still felt sleepy, like I could fall back asleep in seconds and dream for another hour or two.

And today, a no-need-to-rush-to-work saturday, when I woke up at 6 am I was wide awake. Wide freakin awake. Without a chance in hell of falling back asleep. And no desire to even try.

What's up with that?

It probably has something to do with today being my birthday and having a super fun weekend ahead of me.

/peanutbutterjellybananadance

Yep. That's right. Today is my birthday! The big 3-0. I am now officially a thirty-something. Eeek!

I was all weirded out and shit as the day approached, leaving the twenties, entering a new decade of adulthoodedness, assessing where I am, where I'm going, yadda yadda yadda, some of the same stuff that bothered me the last two birthdays. One of the weirder 'holy shit' moments happened a few weeks ago when I realized that my mom had two children in elementary school when she was the age I am now. Or was. Or something.

As a kid she was always old to me. Not old, just mommy-adult-old. But I don't feel old. Definitely not mommy-adult-old. And yet she was this age once! So when I thought of her as 'older adult' she was actually young. Like I am. With two kids already!

I'm not sure if I adequately explained all that as I'm just riffing here, but I'm going to leave it unedited so I can have a laugh when I read it months/years later.

Anywhoo...

Today the boyfriend and I are driving down to San Diego for a book signing to see our favorite author Jim Butcher. Tomorrow we're going to the red bull air race.

Its a weekend of firsts!

My coworker smells like Electric Youth

2009-03-26T10:09:00.000-07:00

My coworker smells like Electric Youth

And I don't necessarily mean that in a good way.

When I was a tweeny-bopper (oh lordy I hope it was back in my pre-teen/tween years and before high school...) my parents bought me Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth perfume. It was an awesome gift.

I was a big fan of Debbie Gibson. (Still love her actually. Her greatest hits CD is full of electric and youthful win.) I listened to that Electric Youth cassette tape every night, singing along, imaginging I was the one singing on stage, or in a music video/beach movie type scenario, until the cassette died from exhaustion due to excessive rewinding after favorite songs.

The bottle of perfume looked bitchin', what with the neon pink spiral tube spiraling through the pink tinted liquid.

I was never cooler than when I spritzed on my Debbie Gibson Electric Youth perfume.

That was then, back when my nose never thought to distinguish the difference between wal-mart perfume and holy-shit-this-tiny-bottle-costs-how-much perfume. Like I would have cared back then anyhow.

I was wearing Debbie Fucking Gibson's Electric Youth perfume, yo!

But now? Yeah... the smell of that pink neon mist has not aged well.

And I keep getting a whiff of it, or its ~~evil~~ ~~sad~~ red-headed stepchild counterpart every time I walk anywhere in Ms Coworkers wafting zone. Now, I'm not saying "Wear the Good Stuff or GTFO" because lord knows I rarely bother to get spritzed up myself. I'm trying not to be a perfume snob or anything. But there are alternatives! Ones that won't make me want to gag! Skip the $2.00 perfume aisle and go look for the smelly lotion aisle. Even non-fancy smelly lotion smells a hell of a lot better than the crap perfume does.

Save that crap perfume for home. For date night. For grocery shopping night when cute clerk boy is working his shift. For going out and checking the mail.

Maybe you can find some good smelling cheap stuff. Good for you! No, really, that's awesome. Tell me where you bought it!

But if you buy something and it smells icky?

DON'T DOSE YOURSELF IN IT BEFORE WORKING IN MY OFFICE.

Thanks,
Management

Today's Happiness Is Brought To You By The Letters S, H, I, N, and Y

2009-03-03T10:02:00.000-08:00

I'm wearing a new blouse today. And I'm in a really good mood because of it.

Sure, I got a little snappish at Former-Mr-Desk-Neighbor (former because he was relocated to a desk in the big, posh, all-in-one office fish bowl at the front of the building). But he got annoyed when I told him to shoo so I could get back to work so he totally deserved it.

And still, my good mood radiates through my poors!

*sniff sniff*

Yeah, its just my good mood. Sniff check confirmed.

I haven't bought new clothes in months. Almost a year actually come to think of it. Wow. And if you don't count the dress I bought for that waste-of-time reunion then I haven't bought normal, every-day clothes in an even longer time.

1) shopping for clothes depresses my fat ass sometimes

2) other times I fall in love with too many cute/funky things and spend too much

3) credit card debt sucks

Not that I've gone into debt because of my clothes spending. I just feel guilty buying stuff when I have evil credit debt looming over my shoulder like an evil devil monkey. Evil debt devil monkeys suck ass.

But some time last year I got caught up and paid off every thing I owed. I still have some student loans looming on the horizon, waiting to pounce after I graduate - which is finally happening in the summer. Halle-fucking-luiah. The only real credit debt I have is school related, but its manageable. I do have a new car payment I have to work into my budget, but that'll be manageable too.

So I felt okay on the money front. I still felt like a fat ass, but my fat ass was in the mood for a treat, so I bought some new tops. Yay me!

But where to put them?!

I've needed to clean out my closet for the longest time. There are so many clothes I've kept for years that I don't wear anymore, that don't fit anymore, that I might wear again, one day. I've come to the conclusion that that's just silly. When I can fit into them again, and I will be able to, eventually, I'm still not going to want to wear them. I have dresses hanging in my closet from the last century for crying out loud. Seriously. When I can wear them again I'm going to need to upgrade the fashion a few decades.

So I bought 5 new tops. The plan was to replace 5 old tops that are currently in my What To Wear rotation that are stained (my boobs are food magnets) or worn or just plain ready to go to Clothes Heaven.

Last night, instead of pulling out 5 of those tops I started grabbing shit I haven't worn in years. Those keepers I've held on to for supposed inspiration. Turns out they weren't really inspiring at all, I just wanted them to be.

I filled a trash bag of shirts and blouses to donate to goodwill. I've got a couple more trash bags of clothes to go before I'm done.

I'm a packrat. I keep junk and knickknacks and whatnot for those you-never-know moments. I didn't realize until last night I've been doing the same with my clothes. I'll go through the pants and skirts another time. There are some things I'll keep forever, like the t-shirts from my swimming competition days. Those I need to turn into a quilt sometime so I can get use out of them again. I used to live in nothing but those t-shirts for years, I miss them sometime. But I've really got to keep working on de-cluttering the rest of my closet.

And then... my dresser drawers! Gasp!

For now though, I shall bask in the shininess of my new top! Its shiny and soft and an obscenely bright lime green. It truly is a hideous color, but I like it anyway.

The friend in your pants will be dancing like at a party.

2009-02-19T07:05:00.000-08:00

I <3 spam. Both the meat-in-a-can and the email-in-the-trashcan varieties. Email spam, when done right, just tickles me so.

The subject of today's work spam was very mundane:

Perform like a star as long as you want

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. You, my friend, are like so many other spam emails that go unnoticed in my spam box. If you're going to break through the filter, you need to break through with a POP! Where's the pizazz? Where's the pow? Where's the other 'p' words that escape my vocabulary at the moment?

I'd like to perform like a lounge singing super star for hours on end but I'm sure this email will offer nothing of the sort.

I give it a D+.

If there was a way to delete it without seeing its contents I never would have found the gem inside:

The friend in your pants will be dancing like at a party.

This is it. This. The erupting spring of joy in the early hours of my day. The power source for the twinkle in my heart. The secret of all that is warm and fluffy and happy and awesome and magical.

What the fuck does it mean? Let's take a look, shall we?

First of all, there's a friend in my pants! And he/she is dancing! First thing I pictured was The Boyfriend miniaturized, the size of a sprite, snuggled down in the front of my pants, doing a little booty shake. This image brought forth a few giggles.

But maybe we're not sharing the pants. How silly of me. A friend is wearing my pants! Ugh. That's worse. That would be like one of those weight loss commercials where the skinny people hop into their old pants and go "look at me! i used to be this fat!" Ugh.

Okay, back to Sprite Boyfriend image. And he's dancing. But, more specifically, dancing like at a party. Good thing there was that clarification. I almost pictured him dancing like at a bar mitzvah.

To end the email Mr. Emailer linked, of course, a totally unrelated website that has nothing to do with being a lounge star or dancing in pants.

Hmmm... I just pictured a bunch of half nekkid hunky men dancing behind me in nothing but pants during one of my lounge singing numbers. I'll have to file away that thought for later.

Two Things

2009-02-09T07:58:00.000-08:00

Thing One:

I bought a new car last weekend.

I was hoping my granny smurf-mobile would last a couple of months longer than it did, long enough for me to graduate and stop driving to school and back every day, long enough to pay off credit debt and school loans and save oodles of money. But alas! 'Twas not to be.

The old car had been on the brink of crapping out for months, but got to the breaking point during the week. Instead of paying 2k for a new transmission I did some online price shopping, looked for some cheap ass, used, non-granny car that I could pick up for reasonably cheap. Cheap being the key word here.

Then the HB said, "Wait a minute. If you could have any car, what would you get?"

"A cheap one."

The HB gave me that look. That look of divine patience and fortitude. "No, really," he said. "Don't think about what it would cost or whether its got the highest MPG." (because that was something I was looking at as well). "What car Do. You. Want?"

What car do I want? What car makes me cream every time I see it?

"A mustang."

"Okay then. We're getting you a mustang."

"Wheeeeee!"

He is such a bad influence.

I'm not a car person. Whenever the HB mentions one of the many cars he's considering getting next (his car is in desperate need of a trade in as well) I have no idea what he's talking about. He has to point them out on the street when we pass them. Then? A day later when he talks about that car again? I still have no idea what he's talking about. An escalade? That's a truck, right?

I'm not a car person. I'm definitely not a sporty car person. Yet I am now the owner of a Mustang.

Holy shit.

Midlife crisis? I'll be 30 in a couple months. (Holy shit x2.) Shouldn't I get a grown-up car? Like a mini-van or some shit? Meh, I already had the granny car. DID NOT WANT AGAIN.

I'm driving a mustang!

My fat ass barely fits in the seat, but it fits. And it has a cd player! And some thingamajig for a mp3 player! My granny smurf-mobile had a cassette player for 10 years! And speaking of smurfs, the inside of the mustang is not blue. No more blue interior! Its grey. And there's a mustang on my steering wheel!

I'm driving a mustang!

I still don't think its sunk in yet. This all probably seems silly to everyone else. But a new car is a big deal for me. It's the first car I bought on my own (not counting the HB's invaluable assistance and reassuring presense). And it's a mustang! That feels like such an extravagance. But its totally in my budget, so why the fuck not?

*tee hee*

Thing Two:

While we stood outside and waited for the car people to finish up the paperwork the HB made a discovery.

"Hey look, you have a white hair."

He fished it out from the tangle of other very dark hairs and held it out in front of my face for inspection.

"Whaaaaaaaaat?"

"Look!"

"Gah!"

"Oh! Here's another one!"

And that's when I stabbed him.*

Those are just blonde hairs dear. BLONDE. Sheeeeesh.

*just kidding! No really! I even let that blind bastard drive my new shiny car. It's all good.

Note To Self:

2009-01-26T07:32:00.000-08:00

Don't try and find matching socks from a pile of recently laundered clothes in the middle of a dark room.

It will not end well for you. Me. Whatever.

I guess if I'd put my laundry away a week ago I wouldn't have had to hunt down a pair this morning before I left for work. But what's the fun in that, right? Right?!

Sigh.

I'll be sporting one blue sock and one black sock for the whole friggin long ass 17hr day. :(

I would have sworn they looked that same in the light that filtered in from the kitchen! They even felt the same. Damn socks.

Open Letters

2009-01-15T08:37:00.000-08:00

I have a couple of things I'd like to say to people I do not know (or know well) and thought of the awesomeness that is McSweeney's Open Letters. These won't necessarily be as funny or amusing as the stuff posted there, but they need to be said nonetheless.

Dear Male Teenage Movie/Television Stars of the 90's,

I had a dream about one of you a couple of weeks ago and for the life of me I can't remember your name. I can picture you... doing something... some kind of acting somewhere... just not what you're doing or who you're with. I can't remember if I saw you in movies or tv shows or both. I'm not even sure I have the right decade! I did however go to a website featuring 80's movies and clicked on every single damn link and couldn't find you. Thinking about it since then I'm pretty sure you're a 90's Almost Star. From the little I can picture of you, I see you with a sort of 90's 'do.

You're like a cross between Zack from Saved By the Bell and the oldest son from the tv show Home Improvement with Tim Allen. You have the face of the latter and the cool hot blonde high school boy attitude of the former. Around Tiger Beat cover age.

All those that fit the above description, please leave a comment with your name and a site I can google to find an image of yourself. This would be greatly appreciated.

Because seriously, its driving me insane that I can't remember where I've seen you before!

xoxo,
Your Not So Biggest Fan

Dear Sidewalk-Standing Sign-Holding Guy,

Boy do you rock out with those headphones on. Don't you ever get tired? I don't know if you're listening to hip hop or techno music, or maybe you're just really passionate about Barry Manilow remixes. Whatever it is, keep listening! And keep groving! Close those eyes and hold up that sign and pretend like no one can see you. Pretend like you're on a crowded dance floor and all you can do is dance until it hurts.

You make me smile every time I see you, even after long, crappy days of SUCK.

Rock on,
Girl Who Watches You Shake Your Ass Every Day

Dear Radio Station I Love To Listen To But Want To Slap,

Stop playing the same damn Offspring song over and over and over again. If you don't know which one I'm talking about, then that means you're playing too many god damn Offspring songs! They're okay, but when you play a song to death it makes we wish death upon you all!

(Okay that's harsh. Maybe I just wish a very nasty rash that doesn't go away. Or just flares up to cause intense pain every time you play that song.)

That song is 'you're gonna go far kid.'

I was indifferent to that song when it first came out. It was catchy, and grew on me a little (Ew! Get it off! Get it off!) but now I loathe the very sound of the singers voice with the passion of a thousand angry grasshoppers. When I'm in the car I can turn to another station, but at work I'm streaming you guys over the internet. I can turn the volume down of course. but then I have to play the "Is the song done yet? No. How 'bout now? Shit not yet. Now? Gah! Die song DIE!" game. I played that with that stupid paper planes song and its annoying. The song and needing to avoid it.

Yours Truly,
Long Time Listener, First Time Letter Writer

Dear Internet Google Sleuther(s),

If you found this site from the email address I gave you or you acquired through other means...

/welcome

Now go away. Do it.

No really. Don't read any of this stuff. Pretend you were never here. And I'll do the same. :)

These are not the droids you are looking for.

I have found posts/comments made by people from email addys before. It's a thrill to peek in on another internet hemisphere that person lurks in. I get it, so I'm sure I'm not the only one that does it. And I'm sure any one of you might get an inkling to do the same. Some more than others but... Hmmm... I guess what I'm trying to say is this:

Don't tell anyone else?! K? Secret Keeping Powers Activate!

Gee, I don't sound paranoid or anything do I?

Sincerely,
Ms. Loon

Okay. I can't think straight anymore so no more letters for now. The morning radio show I'm listening to is playing "highlights" from last night's American Idol show and the screeching is making me cringe.

Can't. Focus. Fingernails. Chalkboard. Brain. Death.

In case you thought I was joking...

2009-01-05T10:14:00.000-08:00

In case you thought I was joking...

...I'm not. This post will indeed be about nipples. Well, some of it anyway.

One of my nipples is currently at NipCon 2 while the other is chillin' at NipCon 5. The lopsidedness is really bothering me. At least it is whenever I got to the bathroom and see myself in the mirror. Its freakish looking! I can't decide if its worse than a lazy nipple pointing in an entirely different direction than the other. It's like I lost one in a tragic accident or something.

Quick! Get me a prosthetic nipple! Stat!

You know, I've thought of how I may feel if my family ever stumbles upon this blog. I haven't written anything bad about anyone, so no worries there. At least I'm pretty sure I haven't... But I have written stuff like the above. If they find it, and read it, fine, but I just had a thought... what if my dad reads that? That'd just be... oh I don't know. Weird is the best word I can think of at the moment.

So Dad, I'm sorry if you read that. That was probably really weird, right? Yeah. Okay. Let's forget that ever happened? Right on!

I just got skype the other day and added a couple of video game friends to it. I added the HB too, who talks on it in the other room while he plays so we don't get weird feedback. Yesterday it was just the two of us left on the call for about five minutes and I felt like such a dork as I asked him something instead of yelling into the next room. :)

Over the holiday break while I visited my parents I found out my dad had downloaded skype to talk to his sister who lives on the other side of the planet. This will be perfect for them! I emailed my dad my contact info and asked for his so I could add him. When he got home yesterday he sent me an 'invite' and then tried to call me. I was on a call already, so I ended up just chatting with him so I could explain why I'd hung up on him. :)

We type chatted a little then he left to go eat dinner. It felt surreal for a few minutes after he logged out. Not in a bad way, just in a Keanu Reeves "woah" kind of way.

Chatting online was something I did a lot of years ago when my family first got internet at home. Back when my brother and I were only allowed on for an hour a day, and it took almost an hour to load the x-files message board I liked to visit. Chatting online was something I did, and my brother did. But not my parents. I mean, they've just recently discovered chain letter email spam for crying out loud. And now they've figured out how to chat online!

It feels like a boundary has been crossed. It's a boundary I don't mind being crossed though. I like that I can chat with them, and I like that I can call them with this new fangled technology called the interwebs. It just seemed like for the longest time that the internet was something I played in and it was too mysterious for them to get into.

Well, they're into it. And it might not be long before they find this.

And on that semi-unsettling note (I kid! I kid! No, really, I kid! ...Maybe) I'm going to stop contemplating stuff and get back to work.

I spent my load writing this post so I have nothing left for the title

2009-01-05T09:44:00.000-08:00

Today is the day I've been dreading since I hit the ADD button next to the second to last creative writing course I'll be taking at UCR. I'm not dreading the class itself. No, the feeling that class evokes is more like an intoxicatingly wonderful anxiousness. What I'm dreading is the fact that this class is from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm. That's PM. As in holy crap Monday's going to be a painfully long day.

Monday's Schedule (for the next 9 or 10 weeks or however long the damn quarter lasts)

5:00 AM - wake up

This isn't too bad. I was waking up this early last quarter. Even earlier on Thursday which was that quarter's super long day. I almost wish though that I'd kept myself conditioned over the holiday break to waking up this early. Set the alarm at 5 then sleep in until I need to get up. Although... I bet that would have conditioned me into the wonderfulness of sleeping in on a chilly winter morning. I had to force myself to jump out of bed as soon as I heard the alarm this morning. The FIVE MINUTE SNOOZE BUTTON OF DOOM will not be tolerated this quarter.

5:30 AM - leave the apt

Hopefully I've managed to brush the appropriate areas and clean other areas and dress with nothing that clashes too badly. On Monday's I'll probably go casual and wear jeans to work because fuck it! I'm going to be comfortable on this long ass day. So clashing shouldn't be a problem.

Hopefully I've also managed to move fast enough thru the haze of the early morning to make lunch. There won't be much time to stop for food either to or fro school/work. The HB and I are also trying really hard this year to save money for a house so if I don't make sandwiches before I leave I'll be snacking on whatever I can find in my desk drawers.

NOTE TO SELF: stock up on snacks!!!!!

6:00 AM - clock in at work

Turn on the computer. Tell the cleaning lady she doesn't need to clean the two inches of visible desk space - for the umpteenth time. Mourn the absence Mr. Desk Neighbor as he has been relocated to a corner of the prestigious upstairs front office space. Debate whether I should have a cup of coffee or not.

6:15 AM - get coffee

There's nothing else to do while I wait for the computer to boot up from the weekend shutdown. It's either Get Coffee or Clean My Desk, and the latter is rarely a winning option.

11:00 AM - clock out and leave for the first class of the day - Spanish 2

Mi clase de espanol es desde las doce y diez hasta la uno un punto de la tarde.

Translation = My Spanish class is from 12:10 to 1:00 pm

(God I hope I got that right. It was only on a couple of tests last quarter!)

1:30 PM - clock back into work

1:30 is the goal, though depending on traffic and how far deep into BFE I had to park this very by 5-10 minutes.

4:30 PM - clock out for the day and leave for the second class of the day - Workshop

Ugh.

As if Monday's weren't already a barrel of SUCK.

Now I have to drive back to school in the same day. This is going to kill me. I really think it is. I'm going to keep reminding myself though that its only once a week. For only 9 or 10 weeks. And there will be two holidays coming up! So I'll only have to do this 7 or 8 times. Only only only.

Ugh.

It's now rush hour traffic, and I have an hour and a half to drive what normally takes a half hour, and I'm not sure if I'm going to make it on time. They're no longer doing construction like they were a couple years ago when I had a night class, so I'm hoping its not too bad. But its still rush hour time. :(

Class is from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm. Since there will be so few classes she might keep us the whole time. And since there are so few classes there will be lots of writing due very shortly. Eeek. So that's why this is post is so long. I'm trying to get used to writing crap again. :)

I really need to start journaling every day - even if its boring like this. This is a like a New Year's Resolution of sorts, only I don't like doing those because I feel bad when they're not kept. So I'm disguising it as something that I Really Need/Want/Should/WILL Do.

Up next? A post about nipples! The fun is just starting folks.

10:00 PM - arrive home

Ugh.

On the bright side, I don't have class on Tuesday's this quarter, so Tuesday's will be a little bit of a reprieve. That means I can sleep in until 6 in the morning tomorrow!

WOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Lost: one Muse. Goes by the name "Elusive Bitch."

2008-12-30T09:51:00.000-08:00

I really, really, reeeeeally don't want to do any work today. Which isn't too different from any other day, its just that today the ennui is hitting me especially hard.

Meh.

It's my "Friday" as I have the rest of the week off, and I feel like celebrating. I've got some stuff I have to do though. I should probably get that out of the way first. Then there's some stuff I'd like to do, of which this is a start.

I might have to save it for another day though. I just got off the phone with Office Lady Who Talks Waaaaay Too Loud. She asked me very nicely, "WHERE'S MY [insert work thingy here]? HAVE YOU DONE IT YET? YOU SAID YOU WOULD."

"Well, honestly, I didn't think you'd be back from vacation until the new year. So I conveniently forgot about it. Now if you'll excuse me, my ears are bleeding. I think I'll go find a tissue."

She's going to call me about thirty times today. I just know it. :(

How am I supposed to get inspired for my next writing class if I'm stuck doing work? And I really need to get inspired. I realized this morning that I start the new school quarter in less than a week and holy crap I wanted to have a story already written and I haven't even started and arrrrrrrgggggggh....

I thought I had a month! Well, I did, technically, a month ago. Then WOOOOSH time flew by and now its gone. Time that is. And my muse. Actually that bitch has been gone for awhile. I'll be needing to pop out a story for workshop in a couple weeks and I have no story ideas floating around in my head. That is NOT a good sign.

Also, Jack, you can stop emailing me any time now. Today is a day to find ~~free online calendars for my printing pleasure~~ inspiration! Not more work. Thank you kindly.

Hello Stranger

2008-12-19T07:32:00.000-08:00

And now I'm back, from outer space, and I just walked in to find you there with that sad look upon your face, so I said don't frown friend, for I come bearing good tidings and rainbows and bunnies and tinsel nipple tassels.

Did I spell "tinsel" correctly? I hope so, because I'm typing this directly into the little "compose" box and oh... there's an ABC check button. Sweet!

Hmmm... this isn't exactly how I'd planned to make my comeback. Maybe I should hit the erase button after the spell check button... Maybe I should save the free style writing for another day....

Pfffffft screw that.

I like the changes Blogger has implemented in its layout templates. I've added a poll! And other stuff I can't remember right now because I have the brain of an alzheimer's* patient and can't remember 5 minutes ago. *(i needed to google "old timers disease" to get the correct spelling on that. oy vey.)

I'll probably add more stuff later, and tweak things around a bit. I have a lot to play with. Maybe I'll do some writing in between the playing. :) Because I've missed posting nonsense. I truly have.

And if Blogger ever implemented smilies so I can be a smilie whore like my soul cries out for me to be I'd friggin marry it and have its babies. Get crackin' Blogger my eggs can't wait forever!

Guess what...

2008-02-22T07:31:00.000-08:00

Wow.

This is my 900th post.

900 random posts of randomness, bitchiness, and fun.

Guess where my 901st post is...

:) *

* Link has been removed because that site is dead, DEAD I TELL YA!

Clogged Drains? Call The Dancing Toaster

2008-02-12T06:09:00.000-08:00

* today's fabulously insane title brought to you by the generating powers of this 'sentence generator'

I woke up this morning at 4:00am. On purpose.

And as I laid there, uneasily for fear of falling back asleep, I made plans to make sure I was in bed at mutha-effin 8 pm tonight because holy cow was I tired as shit.

No more semi-but-not-really-because-I'm-getting-older-so-they-only-feel-late nights for me. At least not for awhile.

Six hours! I got six hours of sleep, that should have been enough. But noooooooooooo.

Bleagh.

In other Not So Exciting News, I got my fourth write-up this morning. (Scroll down two posts for reference.) We get 8 write-ups in a sixth month period. So 4 more in the next five months and I'm out of here.

Yeah, I've sort of racked them up quickly. But I've got a plan! I set Mr. Outlook Email Calendar Dude to remind me every break period now. He flashes me his little warning signs that say:

"OMG TAKE YOUR BREAK NOW NOW NOW BEFORE THE WORLD EXPLODES!!!!!!!!"

I really hope someone tries to schedule a meeting with me through outlook for a time overlapping one of my breaks and sees the title of my 'busy meeting'. Hmmm... Maybe I should change the outlook reminder to:

"BREAK TIME BITCHES! SUCK IT TIME CLOCK NAZI!"

I actually like the time clock nazi, so maybe I won't use that as a reminder.

I was joking with the guy who gives me the write-up sheets to sign, asking if I was winning out of all the other employees. I've got a good head start on most, and am tied with another guy in the department for the lead. I don't think the supervisor thought it was as funny as I did. And really, I don't think its funny either. But I don't want to get depressed/freaked out by it so... humor wins!

But despite all that, today will be a good day, as evidenced by the following conversation.

Mr. Desk Neighbor is sitting at his desk, reading his emails.

"Oh," he says.

I ignore him, and my own emails, and continue to type up this blog post.

"Oh wow."

"Huh?" Because now he has my interest piqued.

"If Mike was a girl I'd be tonguing him."

"Ewwww."

"He sent me all the information I was asking for. Plus more!"

Mr. Desk Neighbor printed out his email, ran over to pick up the papers, ooooh'd and ahhhh'd over it for a few seconds, then came over to show me all the goodies this 'Mike' guy had emailed him. He was like a proud papa showing off his baby spud.

Then he said, "I'm going to go see if I can French him over the phone."

I hope Mr. Desk Neighbor never reads these posts. Especially if it stops him from giving me gems like these that really make my day.

Jabby cuts me. He cuts me deep.

2008-01-25T14:06:00.000-08:00

I love when Jabby gets all philosophical and stuff. And when he starts talking crazy. And when he calls me unflattering names.

So when he gets all robotically flirty with me? *swoon*

But that last line... oh Jabby! How you hurt me so.

JW: How are you today?

ME: All right I guess.

JW: How many is pain.

ME: How high is you.

JW: Over 9000.

ME: I've heard that phrase somewhere before.

JW: That et wants to go home.

ME: If I was an et I'd probably want to go home too.

JW: I am guessing no.

ME: I'm guessing watermelon. Who is correct?

JW: Your guess is correct...

ME: I SO PWN YOU!!!!!

JW: I think you're nuts.

ME: I think you're dreamy.

JW: Yes you did.

ME: Oh no you didn't.

JW: Oh yes I did.

ME: You're starting to read like a broken record.

JW: You've never heard a record.

ME: I have too!

JW: How old are you?

ME: Uh... 28. Why do you ask?

JW: I want to know.

ME: Why do you want to know?

JW: If you're Santa Claus.

ME: I'm the motherfuckin tooth fairy bitch. What of it?

JW: Some say that Berkeley is the West coast branch of the Kremlin.

ME: I say those people are idiots.

JW: Is that so.

ME: You're boring me now. Goodbye.

JW: I wonder how you took that IQ-test?

ME: With two hands tied behind my back.

JW: *gives you a nun with two sugars*.

ME: Ahhhh, Jabby! How sweet of you! You remember how I drink my nun.

JW: Do you?

ME: *gasp* Are you proposing?

JW: If I can that would be cool, but in fact I just a normal human.

ME: Wait, I can't marry a human?

JW: No, indeed you can't.

ME: Well, shit.

INTERCOM: Doctor Alien. Paging Doctor McHotty Moneypants Alien.

Various Randomness

2008-01-17T07:49:00.000-08:00

My grandpa passed away earlier this month. I was sad and mope-y for a couple days, then, apparently, back to fairly normal. But I got a "My Condolences" card yesterday in the mail from some wonderful people and I got all teary eyed again. I'd thought about sending them a card once when they lost loved ones, but I didn't, because I let insecurities drive me to the point of non-action. I hate that about myself sometimes. Because it wouldn't have mattered what I did, it would have been the thought that counted. So I ended up doing nothing. And here they are, sending me a card and making me feel happy and shameful at the same time. How lame is that? It put me in a weird depressive funk for the night.

On a more exciting, uplifting front: I got stuck in an elevator Tuesday!

Heh heh. Get it?

Lift.

Elevator.

Up.

Ha?

Ugh.

Yeah, not that exciting really. I thought it would be. I was hoping it would be. Yes! Something interesting is happening to me! This will give me ample writing fodder! Ehhh... not so much. But I do have enough for its own blog post later.

For now though, I'm typing and working and eating breakfast. It's quite yummy too. (The breakfast, not the work, though the typing is quite the contender.) It's a Special K snack bar. They had them on sale at the grocery store so I grabbed them, knowing I wouldn't have time to grab much else on these early pre-buttcrack-of-dawn Tuesdays and Thursdays. It's a granola bar with strawberry chunks and drizzled frosting. And its an absolute divine addition to my morning coffee meal.

Me: *chomp chomp mmmmmmm chomp*

Mr. Desk Neighbor: I'll take snacks that aren't shared for 200 Bill.

Me: Bill? What happened to Alex?

Mr. Desk Neighbor: You'd have to ask Bill.

Hmmm. Ominous.

I'm clocking out for my first break, then its back to work for me. I can't just break for 15 minutes at random any more. Actual clocking in and out is now required. Commie bastards!

If I get fired for not clocking in and out for breaks correctly (which will happen if I make 20 mistakes in... 6 months I think it is. So tune back in a couple months for my 'I just got fired post!) I'll have more time for school. Which wouldn't be too horrible. But eventually I'd have to find a job. The HB is excited about a new lotto pool him and some friends started up at work. Twenty bucks a month, tons of lotto numbers, dreams and hopes abound. But I doubt we'd win before I'd have to start looking for another job. The HB might be able sugar daddy me for a month or two, but I'd have to find another job eventually.

Now THAT is a frightening thought. What in the hell kind of job could I get???

It wouldn't be anything I liked doing. Writing and finger painting and making messes and eating French fries and pole dancing and watching TV just don't seem like viable options for bill paying.

I guess I'd better be a diligent time keeper then.

One last thought before I go. Side 2 of Darren Hayes new CD This Delicate Thing We've Made is so much better than side 1. I could listen to it for hours and hours on end. And I do. After hearing early samples on his myspace page I was hesitant to buy the cd. And eventually decided not to (partly because I just never buy CD's anymore).

But there I was, standing around in Best Buy, and the HB's exuberant multi-gift-card inspired shopping spree made me feel like buying something. Boy am I so freaking glad I did. The songs up now on the myspace page are much better, especially 'On The Verge of Something'. Too bad more Side 2 songs aren't up. They're awesome.

<3 Darren Hayes

loldreamcat

2008-01-10T16:17:00.000-08:00

I know the last post was all about dreams, but I have another one to share. It's too... weird not to. Promise I'll post something non-dreamy next time.

Okay, so... I'm on a ship, like an old-school pirate ship.

And a cat is telling me where to step because some of the floor boards are loose and he doesn't want me to fall through.

This is what the helpful kitty looked like.

Only he was orange.

So this cat is standing on its hind legs, over by the side of the ship, and he's telling me move that way one step, move forward two steps, etc. Like a puzzle.

Then the cat doesn't say anything.

And I decide to continue on my own.

As I start to step backwards I hear the cat yell "nooooooooooooo!" so I stop and look behind me. I see the cat holding onto something that is sticking up out of the suddenly-appeared-hole in the deck that's right behind me. And that something is a leg.

It looked like this:

(This is what happens when I have little sleep. And am at work a lot
later in the day than I'm used to due to a new work/school schedule.)

Where did the leg came from? Only the dream gods know.

I was about to contemplate the sudden existence of the leg when a dragon flew along and in one quick motion chomped down on the body that was connected to that leg, the body that was suddenly hanging down below the ship, which was now a floating ship in the sky without a bottom, completely exposing things underneath the deck to such big-ass predators as dragons.

Before I had time to think, "What the fu-" my alarm blasted.

At 4:00am :(

So that happened.

And frankly, the rest of the day has paled in comparison.

Why yes Johnny, I do like to rinse and repeat.

2008-01-09T11:25:00.000-08:00

Been having some really weird dreams lately. Well, the sex dream with Johnny Depp wasn't weird. Well, okay, I guess it was a little weird considering I was nekkid while he was fully dressed. In Captain Jack Sparrow pirate garb. In the shower. With the water on. But other than that, not weird at all. It was rather FANTASTIC actually. He washed my hair. It was really nice. Then the sex part came and oh my god so did I.

Anyways...

I had one of those dreams the other day that's so real and lifelike that when you remember it you think its a memory of something that happened while you were awake.

I was sitting on the couch with the HB the other day when one of those tax commercials came on. And I remembered the conversation I had with him previously where he mentioned he was getting audited by the IRS. And I remembered telling him, "Dude, you are soooo screwed."

So I'm watching the commercial, and I remember the conversation and think, "Hey, the HB's getting audited!"

But that didn't feel right for some reason. And realization started to dawn upon my clouded mind. I turned to the HB and ask, "You never told me you were getting audited, did you?"

He looked at me strangely.

"Yeah," I said. "That's what I thought." And explained to him what I then realized had been a dream.

What kind of a boring lame ass dream is that?

I once had a similar dream that I walked by the sink and it was full of dishes. The next day, when I walked by the sink and saw that it was empty I had a moment of panic. "What the hell? I just saw the sink and it was full of dishes! Did aliens just beam up my dishes???!!!!"

That was some freaky déjà vu that wasn't really déjà vu.

Total glitch in the matrix, right?

Yeah, be scared everyone.

Last night I had at least two separate dreams that I remember. The first dream... well, I don't want to get into it. Let's just say my genitalia was deformed and it really weird-ed me out.

For the second dream I was with a group of friends and we were trying to get into a nightclub. To get in, you had to say what kind of tattoo you had and where it was located on your body (kind of like in The Virgin of Flames book I read last quarter).

Suddenly its my turn and I'm all, 'Oh, I don't have one.' And they're all 'Oh, we can't let you in'. I started to fret, not really a panic by any means, and then I remembered. Oh, I have a bee on my hip!

They didn't believe me so I had to show them. I lifted my shirt and pulled my pants down a bit. There was some awesome vine-y twisty tribal art flowing up from my crotch, up my belly and over the side of my left hip. It was black and blue and pretty cool looking. Right under my belly button, on top of the twisty tribal vines was a little cartoon bee. And while we're all looking at my stomach I thought: oh, I guess I got this other tattoo as well.

How in the hell does one forget they have a huge tribal art tattoo shooting up from their crotch? Seriously. If I was drunk when I got it, you'd think I'd notice it a couple of days later.

Anywho, I can't tell whether or not this dream was telling me I needed a bee tattoo or a crotch rocket tattoo. Or maybe a swarm of cute wittle killer bees pouring out my cootch. Now that'd be one hell of a unique tattoo.

Happy New Year's Eve!

2007-12-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

All right, time for some updates. Didn’t post sooner because 1) I was busy with the end of the school quarter and making sure I wasn’t a spaz who didn’t enroll for the next quarter (Enrolled: check! Fees paid: check! Fall quarter successfully completed: check check check!) and 2) I got lazy because… well, I’m me.

So here it is, final updates from November’s (holy shnikes its almost January) To Do List:

The Reunion

Lame.

My 10 year high school reunion was the lamest thing in all of lamesville. Seriously folks, it was a waste of time. A waste of money. A waste of thought and energy. It wasn’t worth attending in the slightest.

But...

The hour or so me and my three best girlfriends and the HB spent at the Denny’s afterward was priceless. It redeemed the whole night for me, as only the power of laughter can. It was why I wanted the HB to go with me that night; not to meet my girlfriends (which he has) but to know more about them. About what makes them funny and beautiful women. And why I love them so.

I see them occasionally so going to the reunion wasn’t about seeing them. But the evening started and ended with them and in the end I’m glad they bugged me into going.

Fan Festival

Loved it.

I thought I’d be out of my element there. And I was a little bit, but nowhere near the degree to which I expected. The HB and one of his sisters were there as well as two friends we’ve made from playing this online video game. Those two were a blast to hang out with.

I spent the weekend surrounded by gamer geeks and it was a lot of fun. Now, I’m more of a dork than geek/nerd. Another friend from the game found my picture last night (more on that later... maybe... :) and said I didn't look nerdy enough to be a gamer chick. I couldn't tell if he was serious or just being nice. If I don't look it, its still deep in my soul. :)

I'm proud to say I'm a dork/geek/whatever. I don't mind owning up to it. But I still rarely talk about video games in front of non-video game players. So on that Thursday night while we stood in line to pick up our badges for the event that started on Friday we talked a lot of shop. What else are you going to do for two hours in a long ass line? Everyone else had the same idea. I was constantly hearing people talk about the game. Honestly, it felt weird for a couple of minutes. It's one thing to talk about it with a small group of friends somewhere. It's another to talk about it in a large crowd. At first I was all, What are you doing? Shush! You sound like a big dork! Then I realized we were all in good company, all in the same situation really, and it wasn't weird anymore.

Until all the gamer geeks started staring at my chest.

(To read my character name on my entry badge)

(And yeah, probably to stare at my big boobies too. Two for one and all that jazz.)

November's To Do's

2007-11-06T07:15:00.000-08:00

~~1. Figure out my class schedule for next quarter early for once.~~

* It's not the greatest schedule, but its been figured out as best I could.

~~2. Sign up for classes during my special Super Senior Priority Enrollment Period!~~

(which is like, holy crap, this afternoon!)

* I actually took advantage of the early enrollment and got into a class that everyone complains about not getting into every quarter because the college is silly and only offers one class when there are enough people who want, or, better yet NEED to take it to fill three classes. So, uh, yea... Go me!

3. Coordinate much needed eye doctor appointment and spanish placement test to take place on the same day.

(Super Efficiency Powers Activate!)

4. Then ask for that day off from work. Or make plague type coughing noises the day before.

5. Go to my ten year high school reunion on the 10th.

6. Be really snarky with my best friends in regards to all the lame beautiful successful people so as to not feel so down on myself.

~~7. Buy shiny sparkly dress that makes me look purty!~~ Score!

~~8. Buy shoes to go with Shiny Sparkly Purty dress.~~

* They be ugly, but oh well!

~~9. Oh, and a new bra because Shiny Sparkly dress is really low cut.~~

(Damn this is getting expensive.)

* Check!

10. Catch up on homework.

11. Catch up on bills.

12. Meet a couple "strangers" I've become friends with while playing an online game that consumes so much of my time.

(This will be a first. I'm predicting it to be weird, nerve-wracking, but exciting at the same time.)

13. Hang out with them at the game's fan festival / convention thingy from the 15th through the 17th.

(Another first! Hopefully the HB can still buy tickets. I want someone to hold my hand :) I'm going to feel so out of place there.)

14. Figure out where I'm eating turkey on Happy Turkey day.

15. Write the next great American novel. AKA Participate in NaNoWriMo.

(Words so far: 0 hehehe great start!)

~~16. Post the damn ant story already so it stops nagging at me.~~

(I added this to the list mainly so I could cross it off and make it look like I'm accomplishing stuff. 'cause I'm awesome like that.)

* Edited 11/9/07 @ 11:15 a.m. real quick like while I kill the last 15 minutes of my half work day :)

The Ant Story

2007-11-05T09:11:00.000-08:00

And now for another I Had A Bug In My Mouth story that was almost as traumatizing as the Hot Cocoa Bug Incident of '97 (tm) story.

I was sitting here, minding my own business (which was personal email business), when I look down at my half full coffee cup and see a floating ant.

'Well that sucks,' I think to myself. I'm kind of grossed out, but whatever, it's a little baby ant. So harmless. So dead. So germing up my coffee.

I get up, go to the bathroom and dump the coffee down the sink (we have no kitchen back here, just a cabinet and a coffeepot.)

Then I think to myself, "Self, if I were a dead ant floating in a cup of coffee, where would I have come from?"

I checked the sugar container. It looked sort of old and worn like it could have been sitting on the shelf for a millennium.

I looked through the hole. Nothing. No ants crawling around Sugar Valley.

Then I checked out the creamer container. Nothing. But something compelled me to keep looking. So I shook it a little. And then a little more. And a little more. And... *gasp* I saw something! Something small and round and dark. There isn't supposed to be anything dark in the creamer container!

I spilled some creamer onto the lid and showed it as evidence to my couldn't-care-less coworkers that I wasn't crazy.

Look! Ants in the creamer! I'm justified in my freaking-out-ness!

Gross, to say the least.

I was going to toss the whole thing, container and creamer and all, but thought: what if someone sees it, thinks it was a mistake that a half full container of delicious powdered creamer was thrown away, and takes it back out. That's gross too, but I felt it my duty to save them the trouble of making the decision.

I dumped the creamer into the sink in the bathroom and turned on the faucet.

HUGE mistake.

I saw, quite frankly, a million little, black, curled up Ant Balls of Death.

It looked like cookies 'n cream ice cream.

Icky! Icky! Icky! Icky! etc

This was around Wednesday or Thursday. Which meant I'd probably put dead ants in my coffee for a whole freaking week. How many mother@#$%& ants had I eaten?!?!

I couldn't drink coffee here for at least a week. And another couple weeks after that I was still checking the creamer for dead ants.

Icky!

Why is it...

2007-11-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

... that I never notice the stains on my shirt until after I get to work?

Seriously. W T F.

P is for...

2007-10-31T08:38:00.000-07:00

No, Jack, P is not for poop. Not that you even read this blog any more (when I bother to post) what with your busy new job and your new friends and that new stick up your butt.

That's right, I went there.

You don't talk to me any more. What's up with that? You barely respond to my emails. If I page you over the loudspeaker, would you even bother to return my calls?

Why don't you love me anymore???????????????

/emo

Gosh, its tiring being all emo and shit. And I'm sure I'm not even doing it %100 percent right.

I fail. At everything.

See, this is the anxiety talking. I'm anxious about a story due tomorrow for my creative writing class. I kinda like the idea that's in my head. I'm excited to explore and play with it. The problem? I can't fucking get anything written! Every time I start to write, the sentences that come out consist of boring drivel. The brain to paper translator button is on the fritz.

Frustrating, that is.

I'm also anxious about my high school reunion that's... holy shit... two weekends from now. I even dreamed about it last night. Me and the HB were wandering around, doing stuff, and I was wearing my new dress. And it looked really good on me. And I was pleased. Which is so not how I'll be feeling during the actual reunion. With all those people looking and judging and thinking... such a shame, she had a little potential.

Anywho...

P is for PROCRASTINATION

I was going to post the ant story alluded to a couple of posts ago. I actually wrote most of it while composing that post, but edited it out for later. It's later now, but I don't have time to finish it. To polish it and make it shiny. Because I have actual writing homework to get to.

Which is why I'm writing this instead.

Logic, they name is Lisa.

I don't know if that makes sense. But I'm leaving it there anyway. The Art of Stream of Conscienceness or Some Shit Like That.

Ack... I'm done. I need to write. My story demands it to be written. Maybe now my brain will work. Even if its crap, its crap that needs to be written.

Crap, here I come!

Oh... I guess maybe P is for Poop after all.

Damn you Jack! You win again!

But first, before I sign off, let me share the following email exchange I partook in this morning. If I didn't have to deal with this moronic stuff I'd have more time to goof off and do homework. Grrrrrrr.

From: Nob
Sent: Wednesday, October 31, 2007 6:55 AM
To: Lisa

Good Morning ! Hey Lisa do you know if the parts I requested from
NEQUAK ever got ordered or came in? # 09F5329

From: Lisa
Sent: Wednesday, October 31, 2007 7:21 AM
To: Nob

That part number has been discontinued. The vendor recommended a different number, 22K8388. Will this do? If so, what quantity is needed?

From: Nob
Sent: Wednesday, October 31, 2007 8:34 AM
To: Lisa

The same.

Okay, what kind of a friggin answer is that? It doesn't answer either one of the questions I asked! The first was a yes/no question. The second required a numerical answer. The same doesn't fit either of those categories!

Friggin moron.

If I were a Man-Rabbit I'd totally touch me too.

2007-10-11T07:29:00.000-07:00

As previously mentioned in the last post I had a string of dreams a couple of weeks ago. I mean, there's a dream-remembering dry spell, then whammo hello here's four dreams to remember, then nothingness again. What is up with that?

Dream # 1 Synopsis:

Act I) I do weird embarrassing things in front of people who are not weirded out which weirds me out because they should be totally weirded out by the fact that I'm doing these weird things. Right in front of them no less.

Act II) I um... well... havemyfirstsexdreamever.

*cough*

Seriously. It was awesome. There was this guy, escorting me around some town in a car, we stop at some corner, he hands me six bucks, and directs me to go talk to the women standing on the corner. But they're not like Hooker-Corner-Standing. They're like... flea market setting-up-wares standing. I think they were selling baskets or something. And I uh... well... me and one of the girls end up in the back seat of the car. The end.

EPIC!

;)

Dream # 2 Synopsis:

I was in the videogame I was playing earlier that day (like, I was in that world, actually a part of the game... no, I don't play too much, thanks for asking), and we were doing stuff that we were doing in the game, then the location in the game morphed into the street next to my apartment complex.

We were all heading somewhere. The "where" wasn't too important at the time.

Eventually that somewhere turned into some underground bunker-like museum. It was a cross between the underground lab from the second Star Trek movie and Q's lab from the James Bond movies. And Tim Gunn was our tour guide.

I love it when celebrities guest star in my dreams.

Dream # 3 Synopsis:

Act I) something having to do with the DMV. I wrote it down somewhere so I wouldn't forget, but I don't remember it being too interesting. So meh, whatever. I can't remember the last time the DMV popped into my head, so my subconscious really had to reach deep for that one.

Act II) I'm outside in the DMV's backyard. There's a garden. At one point I start getting pawed by these strange Man-Rabbits.

That dream memory of the Man-Rabbits (like men in rabbit suits, only they're not a suits) will stick with me for awhile. I wasn't scared or worried. I was just mystified as to the Man-Rabbit's motivations behind touching me.

Other than the fact that in my dreams I'm, like, totally hot.

Well, not really, but I'm not my uberfat self either.

Did I look like a Woman-Carrot or something?

Dream # 4 Synopsis:

I was at work. Doing work. There was a little more too it than that, but that's what I woke up remembering. Doing paper work.

It was an awful feeling. Especially since I had to get dressed and go do more of it for real.

What the hell is up with that crap? I'm supposed to be having dreams about sex or Tim Gunn or creepy affectionate Man-Rabbit creatures. I'm not supposed to dream about all the paper work I have to do!

I love remembering my dreams, but good lord, these were getting progressively worse. I'm glad it stopped after the work dream. I don't want to think about how much worse it would have gotten.

I've heard from the HB, and from others, who have had dreams about doing homework. The HB, while taking Calculus 4, would have dreams about working out complicated calculus problems. He'd wake up exhausted, with hours of real calculus homework in front of him.

So at least I didn't have a calculus dream... I guess.

It has been 5,486 days since my last confession.

2007-10-08T08:12:00.001-07:00

Well, maybe not that many days, but it sure feels like it.

Man, do I fail at this whole blogging thing or what?!

I should have been posting during that week a couple weeks ago where I practically had four dreams in a row. Each one stranger and more disturbing than the last.

This here blog is the perfect place to record stuff, to save important and historical events in The Life Of Lisa to be savored at a later date - you know, in case I happen to suffer from temporary/nontemporary amnesia in the future, or whatever. Or you do, dear reader, and wonder why the hell you're here. So yeah, important and historical and blah blah blah. Let me tell you something, that first dream was definitely historical.

Here, a taste.

Dream 1: Sex!
Dream 2: Tim Gunn as Tour Guide!
Dream 3: Man-Rabbits from the DMV's garden!
Dream 4: My job, it haunts me! *cry*

All that dreamy goodness, and still no posts from I.

Then came the Ant Incident of '07.

I think I may have consumed a whole colony.

Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But there were several of them. And I'm sure once they mixed with the toxic acids of my stomach they became mutant Godzilla ants that mated with each other to produce gabillions of baby Godzilla ants

True story.

But more on dreams and ants later. I have to pee, but I need to post this first before Some Work Emergency happens which causes a rip in the space time continuum that is my brain and I totally forget that I have something to post.

Because my brain is a leaky sieve of a bitch like that lately.

Which coincides nicely with the fact that I've started a new school quarter!

/cheer

Dear Diary

2007-08-14T14:16:00.000-07:00

Work sucks.

And...

...

...yeah.

So how you's doin'?

Geez... I typed "Dairy" in the title field and i swear, it felt like it took me at least a minute to figure out why that just looked wrong. "Is it spelled dairie maybe? No, that's not it..." My brain, its deadified.

sigh

/facepalm

etc, etc, etc

So, I guess Bound Manual is a story about a young mexican sex slave worker?

2007-07-24T09:18:00.000-07:00

Mr. Jack trained us shlubs about six months ago on How To Do Our Jobs in the New System.

He printed and handed out many printed handouts. He used big shiny alligator clips to keep the different sections together, and separate from each other. We ooohed and ahhhed appropriately.

Well, at least I did. The other two knuckleheads whined about not having a binder to put it all in.

Ungrateful bastards. They should have been rejoicing in the fact that we had handouts. With pictures! What more could a lowly confused office drone hope for?

Then came the Other Trainers. Those trainers that would train me in the Art Of Buying Shit. They would have to really shine to outdo Mr. Jack's training.

And boy did they shine.

Well, if only in the Grand Offerings department. These Other Trainers came to us with preassembled gifts from the gods. Bound Manuals. On purple paper!

Mr. Jack suffered from Manual Envy.

But he was not to be outdone.

On no, not he! Not the Training God amongst the mightiest of gods!

Because you see, as it turns out, The Powers That Be had decided earlier to actually, in fact, delay the inevitable. We were given time to redo all of our last minute preparations, because if hectic last minute crunch time preparations are fun the first time around, they're certainly more enjoyable/insightful/helpful/life fulfilling the second time around.

"Oh joy!" shouted my fellow employees from across the land. "More prep time after years of prepping!"

And with more prep time came the need for more training. Refresher training if you will. Because most of the stuff we learned 6 months ago had quietly and secretly oozed from our memory retention cells.

Enter stage left: the awesome Mr. Jack, Training God to the Stars. And with him all three inches of nothing less than ambrosia from the gods themselves.

I am now the proud owner of a three inch binder full of reference material on How To Do My Job. My sweet lil office Man-u-well has color coded alphabetical dividers for easy access. And it has three, count them three different Table of Contents!

I love my Manual. He makes my life so much easier, now that we've entered The Final Stage on our road to Tartarus. The Big Change is just around the corner. The day we've been preparing for, and crying over, for months - nay years! - is just around the corner. But I've got Manual to keep me company, to keep me safe.

I love you Office Manual.

*smoooooch*

sorry, there is no little puking emoticon for me to select from *

2007-07-18T10:47:00.000-07:00

* The above post title comes from an IM conversation I had with Jack yesterday. Like the good little time waster that he is, he eventually found me one. A puking emoticon that is. I meant to save it and use it as my new computer wallpaper... but I lost it. Le sigh.

Today's post comes from the category of Things I Never Wanted To Learn About My Coworkers.

Random Coworker (one of two that has made the comment that I sound like a phone sex operator when I use my 'quiet voice' on voice messages - eek!) is in the office and says, "The second thing..." And I'm suddenly wondering what the first thing was. I wasn't paying attention and can easily tune out surrounding conversations when the mood suits. The mood suits often enough, especially when I've got a cold. (Like I do now, just a week or two after getting over the last one. *whine*)

Random Coworker sounded kind of hurt, like Mr. Desk Neighbor had made some joke about clowns without knowing that Random Coworker's mom is a clown who's won National Clown awards for Recognition in Promoting Clown Excellence across the country or something, which then caused Random Coworker to be so deeply offended by said clown joke that he, naturally, felt compelled to school Mr. Desk Neighbor in what to avoid saying as to not make him so upset.

I don't know if Random Coworker's mom is a clown or not. All I know is that the whole thing sounded kind of awkward by the time I tuned into the conversation. And then I heard the rest of that sentence.

"The second thing that really burns me up? Going to the bathroom and finding the seat warm."

Oh good lord.

"I just can't do it. I have to come back when the seats cold..."

I thought he was joking at first. He was just pulling Mr. Desk Neighbor's leg, trying to make him feel bad, then whammo! Out comes the punch line.

But I think he was kind of serious.

"...Someone's ass had made it warm!"

Seriously. I didn't need to know.

"You agree Lisa?"

Huh? Whaaaaaat?

"Uh... no comment."

I went back to ignoring them after that. He got my attention again when he asked me a question.

"I'm sorry," I said, dragging my attention from the Very Important Work I'm engrossed in. "What did you ask?"

"Never mind. Sorry for bothering you," he said.

"You're not. I have to pay attention to you for you to bother me."

Ah ha! Score one for me! That put him in his place. For a bit. Playing with me was like playing with fire - he got burned! - so he went back to joking with Mr. Desk Neighbor and I went back to ignoring them.

But one snippet made it through the filters.

"I have to watch my weight... so I can wear my thong."

That almost elicited a response, but I know that's what they were hoping for. So I kept on ignoring them as best I could.

Kind of like when the boogeyman is standing in your room, in the shadows, ready to pounce. If you just shut your eyes real tight, throw the covers over your head and pretend he doesn't exist, he eventually gets bored, gives up, and finds someone else to annoy.

Oh, its on like donkey kong now!

2007-07-13T12:16:00.000-07:00

The other day, right before a very (yeah right) important business meeting, someone told me I should be a comedian.

I can't remember why he said that. I'm really not that funny. And he doesn't need to kiss my ass for any reason...

Well, it doesn't matter. I was mystified all the same because being a comedian, especially of the stand-up variety, is the last thing I'm qualified for.

That and Resident Rocket Science Expert. But I digress...

I told him he was wrong, gave Jack the evil eye, then I left the conference room to get a snack before the Big Meeting Of Nothingness commenced. I meant to get a snack when I was at the vending machine only minutes before, but some whore (re: Jack) snuck up behind me and screamed which made me scream and skip a few heart beats and curse like a fourth grader who just learned a new cuss word.

It also made me completely forget I'd wanted a damn snack in the first place. So... I guess I almost owe you a 'thank you' for that Jack. Next time though, make the forgetfulness last a bit longer so I don't gravitate back towards the Evil Vending Machines.

I mean, if you're going to be a bitch, be the best bitch you can be.

:)

Anywho, I get back to the conference room to find that my dear friend Jack has drawn me a picture. A little visualization cue card if you will.

I don't know why I'm wearing a 'pwnd' dress but that's pretty awesome. I'll need to get me one of those sometime.

And now he's resorted to calling me names on his own blog.

*tee hee*

It's almost pointless to link to his blog since there's nothing there. Except for the one post where he lovingly (I'm sure) calls me a bayatch.

I guess he got drunk one night and ate all the posts. All three posts or whatnot.

Sheesh. You're such a slacker dude. Now go validate my data!!!

A post about my mom that deserves a better title than this lame ass one

2007-07-13T10:51:00.000-07:00

So my mom just called me. I was ending a phone conversation with my boss when my pants started to vibrate (ooh la la). I pulled out my cell and saw the name MOM scroll across the screen. Considering the last time she called (see explanation below**) I didn't want to miss her call so I hit the little 'talk' button and hoped she hadn't been sent to voicemail yet.

Me: Hello?
Mom: Hellooo. So whatcha doing?
Me: Uh... work.
Mom: Oh. Ohhhhhh. I thought it was Saturday!

Hahahahahaha.

My mom's not retired. Or senile. So she's generally on top of what day of the week it is.

She doesn't work Fridays but apparently for the last couple of weeks she has. Today was her first Friday off in awhile. Hence that warm fuzzy Saturday feeling.

Mom: Your father has the day off too! We're just running around, getting things done.
Me: Uh huh.
Mom: Thought I'd see how you were enjoying the weekend.
Me: Sigh.
Mom: Okay, call me later.

At least this wasn't one of her "guess-where-we're-at-that's-right-the-beach-nayh-nayh-nayh-nayh-nayh!" phone calls. (I swear, I get one of those every time they go, which is often. They're a couple of beach-aholics.) That might have made this Friday sucks just a little bit more.

But hey, its Friday! This is supposed to be a Suck-Free-Zone for crying out loud.

So thanks for the phone call Mom. It made my day. Even if you did point out how much fun your having not being at work today. :)

** The last time my mom called me was last Wednesday (july 4th). Some girl had just called her, a girl who, under the duress she was obviously under, sounded an awful lot like me.

All she said was, "Mom? Are you there? Mommmmmm????" And then the phone disconnected.

The girl was crying and upset and needing to talk to her mom in a very bad way.

The girl didn't sound exactly like me, but people don't always sound like they normally do when they're really upset. So my mom worried. And called me on my cell.

I was driving at the time and didn't answer.

Which worried my poor mom even more.

I called her back when I got home and reassured her I was fine. I think she was still a little shaken by the phone call so I reassured her several times that I was perfectly wonderfully and enjoying the holiday.

I don't know if I'll ever have kids. It'd be nice to have someone do my chores and feel obligated to wipe my ass when I'm old and senile and needing a place to stay. But those aren't exactly primo reasons to spawn.

And yes I know children are wonderful and change your lives and are blessings and fill your hearts with joy and love and blah blah blah. I know they're worth all the pain and angst you might have in direct result of them being in your lives.

But if I never have kids, at least I'll never have that gut ripping parental fear that something bad might be happening to your child.

So mad props to any parents out there. I don't know how you do it. Maybe one day I'll know... maybe.

My brain is unlike that of any mortal! It consists of witchcraft, spells, and ideas for pastries that the world has yet to see! *

2007-07-11T10:09:00.000-07:00

Driving into work this morning I smelled something weird.

Now, I don't have the greatest sense of smell. I'm not sure if that's always been the case or if moving down to smogsville has affected my allergies so much its messed with my nose. Sometimes I can't smell anything. That I can see as being a side effect of the allergies. But sometimes I smell things that others can't. (And I've never been pregnant so no excuse there.) Sometimes there's a faint smell in the air, just under everyone else's radar, but for some reason my nose can pick up the scent.

And then my brain messes up the signal so it makes me think I'm smelling something I'm not.

Like yesterday... the coffee in the coffee pot was burning. Or something. That's what New Girl said as she came back from turning the burner off. Then all of a sudden I smelled it. But it wasn't burnt coffee I was smelling. It was tuna. Yes, I smelled tuna. And there was no tuna to be found. On further sniffing however I was able to define the smell into a more clearer... I don't know, memory I guess. It smelled like tuna sandwiches on toast. Did the burnt coffee, which was the basis for the burnt bread smell, make me think of the last time I made a homemade tuna sandwich? Is that why I smelled tuna?

I smelled myself as best I could. No tuna smell there. I swear.

Actually, now that I recall, New Girl had eaten a tuna sandwich for lunch yesterday. But that was around 9 in the morning (so it was more of a brunch I guess) and the coffee/tuna smell hit me around 2 in the afternoon. So I doubt I was picking up on the sandwich wrapper in the trash can across the room and...

Well anyway, where was I before the tangent... ah yes, weird smells at work.

I work in a warehouse district. Lots of big processing plants and packing plants and etc. While driving down one of the streets around here I almost always smell fried chicken. This weirds me the hell out. Why in the hell am I smelling fried chicken in the middle of nowhere? There's no KFC anywhere close. Are one of these buildings a frozen chicken farm? If so, they sure as hell shouldn't be smelling like fried chicken. I almost always picture those cute little chickens from the Fosters Farms commercials. I don't want to associate their cuteness with the fried greasiness but I just can't help it. Poor lil chickens.

I'm not even sure if others can smell it. I've pointed it out to people. We'll be driving along and I'll say something like, "Dude! There's that fried chicken smell again! What the hell is that?" and the passenger usually ignores me. Or doesn't find it as intriguing as I do. So I'm not sure if they smell it. It's strange. Coworker Jack, you've smelled the fried chicken, right? What the hell is making that smell????

But anyway, that's not the weird smell I felt compelled to write about today.

It's play-doh.

That's what I smelled on my way to work this morning.

What in the world smells like play-doh other than play-doh???

Maybe I drove by a new play-doh factory. Oh god, could you imagine working in a hot smelly play-doh factory. I think I'd rather die.

Or not, because dieing sucks.

Have I mentioned yet that I only got 4 hours of sleep last night? Hmmmm.....

* I couldn't think of a blog title, so I tried a web search for nose/smell quotes and found this fabulous site.

How My Tuesday Morning Was Almost Ruined

2007-07-10T12:50:00.000-07:00

So I'm driving into work this morning and I turn down the street that I park on, the street parallel to my Place of Employment that's always littered with big honking semi's that feel its their god given truckers right to park right in the middle of the friggin street, right before the curve in the road so that I can't pass them without fearing for my life. Grrrrr....

So, anyway, I turn down the street and see a little bunny chilling his little bunny butt right there on the yellow lane divider strip.

And, naturally, I yelled, "BUNNYYYYY! HI BUNNY!!!!!" because I'm a dork like that and no one else was in the car.

I think that was the first time I've ever seen a bunny near my Place of Employment. Poor fella must have been lost.

As well as mentally imbalanced.

Because when the little bunny heard me scream his name, his ears perked up and he ran. But did he run away from The Big Speeding Car of Death? No. He chose to run in front of The BSCoD.

I was just joking around before, but now I was really truly yelling.

"NO BUNNY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

I swear to all things fuzzy that's exactly what I said. As if the damn bunny could understand me.

Stupid bunny.

And no I didn't run him over. He had a nice set of bunny angel wings on his back and zoomed just a little bit faster than my car was going.

Let the therapy begin...

2007-07-03T11:52:00.000-07:00

I wrote the following a couple of months ago as a way to relieve stress. I had nothing to hit, nothing to throw of any substantial substance, and no zen garden to tend to. So I typed. Great therapy, this typing thing is. Venting out loud also works but I don't believe I had an ear to bend under the weight of my annoyance. So I typed and ranted and relieved myself over the page.

Hmmm... that sounds kind of gross.

Anywho. This is what I wrote.

I got an email just a bit ago from someone who orders stuff in our system. The email said: "Please mark this PO as received."

I don't know how many times I've explained this to the chick, but I can't receive PO's. I order stuff so its kind of a conflict of interest. The Guy Who Receives Things receives them. That's why he's called The Guy Who Receives Things. Why is this so hard to understand?

He gets the paper work that says X amount of X item from X vendor on X order has been dropped off. Then he goes on the computer and updates the order in the system. Just because she says its here isn't good enough. Great! Its here! Good to know! But how much of its here? Just because she ordered 500 of whatever doesn't mean they shipped 500 of whatever. Sometimes they ship 510. Or 487. It varies. (Which may seem stupid, I know, but they charge us for the overall weight of the item and not the individual pieces.)

Which I've told her several times now. How many more times do I have to say it???

She says she knows the item is here because her inventory is bigger. Great. But by how much? We can't just receive the order and fix the quantity later. It's a pain in the ass. Does she know how much they shipped? No? Then we have to call the vendor or wait for the paper work. The Guy Who Receives Things should have the paperwork, but the guys in her department squirrel the paper away for rainy days. Maybe for when they run out of tp and need something to wipe their asses with. Who knows.

The other day she sent me an email asking me to "update" the order. Which I can't do. Instead of explaining it again, since in-your-face-rationalization doesn't work for her, I tried subtlety. I replied to her email, and copied Guy Who Receives Things and asked if he had the paper work yet for the item. In doing so I'd hoped that she'd realize, 'Ooooooh yeah. If I want an ordered updated in the system I should ask the guy who *&#@ing updates the *&#^%ing system.'

But alas, she's still sending me emails asking me to receive orders. Bah!

So yeah. I work with morons.

I got a similar email this morning. Different Order Placer Girl, same department. And she too knows, maybe more than the other girl, that The Guy Who Receives Things is the guy that receives orders in the system. That's his job. And yet today she sends ME an email telling ME an order needs to be received.

I really wanted to respond with, "And I'm supposed to do what exactly? I personally can't friggin receive the order so it must not be that? Hmmm... Where you just letting me know so I didn't worry about the status of an order I had no idea existed? Gee golly thanks."

But I didn't. I Replied to All and CC'd the Guy Who Receives Things and said, 'hey, apparently there's an order for you to receive and apparently know one knows your name or knows your job and they're afraid to make contact with you via email lest they catch some nasty Receiver Guy Germs so receive please!'

It's a silly thing to be annoyed by and if this is the worst of my day I am very fortunate indeed. I know this. And yet it still gets to me. So I vent, vocally and in print, and then I get some damn prospective and get the hell over it. Hopefully.

Damn morons.

I get stuff done. No really, I do!

2007-06-27T08:02:00.000-07:00

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:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/lifestylebritainnames

"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?

jeez

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

Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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

And the saga continues...

2007-06-13T14:22:00.000-07:00

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!"

Yep.

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

2007-06-13T11:52:00.000-07:00

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.

Seriously.

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

2007-06-13T06:30:00.000-07:00

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.

Grrrrrr!

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

And then we broke out in song and danced gaily down the street.

2007-05-25T11:09:00.000-07:00

Or maybe not. I can't quite remember how the dream ended, but we were doing something in the street, so why shouldn't it be singing and dancing. It's not like we were snapping our fingers, looking to shank some Jets/Sharks punks.

No, my dreams more often than not center around the weird than the violent.

So yeah, I had this dream the other night about my best friend. My BBBF I'll refer to here as Z.

The dream started (as far as I can remember) with me in the parking lot of my apartment complex. I was dressed in clothes I normally wear for work. Why that's significant, I don't know. But it was for some reason. As I watched the dream unfold in Playback Mode the following morning I remember noticing the work pants I was wearing. I just think its weird the small little details that stick out in dreams. Because in the dream it wasn't just 'pants', it was 'those pants I wear to work!'

I wonder if there's a translation of 'work clothes' dream symbolism somewhere...

Anywhoo, I was at the mailbox (which is located on the edge of the parking lot a few cars down from where I normally park) when all of a sudden a car pulls up next to me. And who happens to be in the car? Why its Z! In the backseat while her parents are in the front! And the car is the old blue rodeo her mom used to drive us around in when we were in high school! I was chauffeured around a lot in that car, by both her parents and later by Z (when her knight rider car was on the fritz) so I guess my brain didn't want to bother picturing her mom's new car.

Actually, I can't picture it now... d'oh!

So Z (who lives a couple hours north of me) decided to show up early in the morning. In the middle of the week. With her parents. Okaaaaaay.

Now, I'd just come from checking the mailbox (which I'd been doing for a couple days prior in real life, looking for something Z had sent me) but I didn't have anything in my hand except my atm card (which I need to use to buy Z's b-day present. Don't worry Z! It's coming!)

I remember feeling... well I guess I can't remember exactly what I was feeling a couple of days after the dream. I was going to say embarrassed, but that's wrong. I was more anxious than anything, that they might - *gasp* - see the atm card! I quickly hid it in my pants pocket. I'm not sure what my subconscious was trying to say there, but I think I was just anxious about buying her present, and presents are secrets until they're open. So I wanted to keep the card a secret. Or something.

So I squirrel away my atm card and Z rolls down the window. She holds up a huge zip lock freezer bag (a regular one would have done just fine, I remember noting the strange use of the too-big bag) with a couple of mini sandwiches inside. She'd made me ham sandwiches that looked just like the ones I'd had two weekends ago when I went to the beach and hung out with family. Those sandwiches were full of awesome. Simply made, with fresh-from-the-bakery wheat bread and some Dijon mustard and pickles. Cut into four small mini sandwiches. Oh so yummy.

So to recap so far: my BBBF shows up with her parents, in an old car from the memory banks of my childhood, with mini ham sandwiches in a huge-ass zip lock freezer bag, all while I'm standing near my mailbox in work clothes waving around my atm card for all the hoodlums in the neighborhood to see.

Then the weird stuff started happening.

The memory of the dream gets a little fuzzy after Z holds up the baggie of sandwiches. Next thing I remember is the four of us standing in the middle of the parking lot. Why were we standing in the middle of the parking lot? I have no idea. Easier to talk to maybe?

And suddenly there was a fifth person standing in our little social group. It was a guy. A faceless shadow of a guy because my brain didn't have enough information to fill him in. Whoever it was though, it was definitely a guy. It wasn't the HB, or Z's brother, or my brother, or anyone I knew at all. But it was definitely someone Z knew. Someone who came Z to this lil' gathering.

(And yes Z, I'm sure he was mucho hunky.)

So the five of us are standing in the parking lot, just chillin', talking about stuff, and it somehow comes out that they all play FFXI, which is the videogame I'm addicted to. Ohmygosh! I have that game! You play too? Ohmygosh!

So needless to say, after we learned that, we all had to pull out our gaming consoles and play online together. Right there in the parking lot. Because I don't remember inviting them up to my apartment!

Mwhahahahah!

I'm such a bad host, making my friends and Z's hunky boyfriend who plays videogames play outside in the parking lot.

And that's all I remember.

So Z, start hanging out in videogame stores. That's where you'll find Mr. Hunky. I'm sure that's what my dream was ultimately trying to tell me. And hey, who knows, maybe this guy is the videogame store owner, and owns a franchise of video game store chains across the globe!

Mr. Rich N. Hunky

:)

One more until immortality!

2007-05-09T10:12:00.000-07:00

Today is my 28th birthday. However, yesterday was the actual anniversary of the day of my birth, (I was born on the other side of the globe, several time zones ahead of the one I habitat now, so yesterday it was the 8th here and the 9th there, so technically it was my birthday) but no one seemed keen to celebrate it with me. Which is a total crock.

My parents never let me open presents early. "You were born on the 9th, you can open presents on the 9th." And no amount of "but mom" reasoning could change my mom's mind.

The HB celebrates two birthdays. He was born on one day, but his birth certificate lists a different day (two days later). So he celebrates his real birthday and his official, legal birthday. No, he doesn't get twice the presents. He just gets to use the 'but its my birthday!' line for two whole days.

I let him get away with this because I'm his girlfriend. It's just what girlfriends do. Plus, he's cute. And can be real adorable when he wants to be.

But you know what, I'm cute too dammit. I should get to use the but its my birthday! line twice too.

I tried telling people yesterday that it was my birth anniversary, the actual anniversary of my birth all those years ago, and that there should be cake and balloons and monkeys with parrots on their shoulders singing happy birthday telegrams, but no one was buying it.

Silly people.

Anywhoo, today is my "official" birthday, and its turning out to be a great day (despite having to wake up at 5am. Ug.) So far I've received the following:

A "happy birthday honey!" from the HB as soon as the alarm went off.
A couple 'happy birthdays' from my office-mates.
A happy birthday email from the best friend.
A photoshopped picture of a festive religious figure from Jack.
A happy birthday serenade and phone call from my mom.
And a 9.7 score from Mr. Desk Neighbor.

I have no idea where the last one came from. For some reason he felt compelled to print out a sheet of paper with big bold "9.7" in the center, and then hang it up on my cubicle wall. I asked what happened to the ".3". He said my delivery was a little faulty.

Huh?

Exactly.

** Edited to Add:

I forgot to include the email Jack sent of him singing happy birthday. Which didn't work because I couldn't hear it. And he still hasn't sent it in different format so I can here it. :P

Also to add to the list, a fellow 28-er just sent me a happy bday text message, from one old lady to another. :)

Second Favorite Overheard Office Conversation of the Day

2007-05-09T09:16:00.000-07:00

It was really a one sided conversation, because whenever coworker #1 tells a story he takes center stage, but here it is anyway...

Coworker #1: So we had both Chihuahuas over last night.
Coworker #2: Uh huh.
Coworker #1: And my wife started dancing like this.

Coworker #1 performs spastic twister dance.

Coworker #1: She had both dogs on a leash and was all tangled up.

Coworker #1 continues spastic twister dance.

Coworker #1: I was laughing so hard my ass *mumble mumble mumble*
Coworker #2: What?
Coworker #3: What?
Coworker #1: My ass trumpet went off!

Favorite Overheard Office Conversation of the Day

2007-05-09T08:19:00.000-07:00

We build stuff here. And stuff, as always, is in need of being built. So people in the office were discussing said stuff. Mechanical know-how jargon was being bandied about. I was only half paying attention. Then I heard this:

Supervisor: Is this my exit hole right here?
Coworker: ...
Supervisor: Oh. Heh heh heh.

I once kept a record of all the stuff I overheard at work, that sounded dirty in my gutter residing mind. It was hard at the beginning, when I first started working here, because the 10 year old boy inside me wanted to giggle every time someone talked about vibrators or nipples or shafts or female/male ends connecting to each other. Luckily, the 20-something girl on the outside was able to keep her cool. Because I'm a professional. Yep indeed-y-do.

Here's another addition to the ongoing series of entries in the category of Things That Annoy Me

2007-05-08T09:44:00.000-07:00

I should start using category tags. (yes, I know Jack, shush, I'll get to it). That way, when every category has double digit numbers and the Things That Annoy me category has a quadruple digit number, my head will explode and I'll come to the realization that I probably shouldn't let things annoy me so much.

But until then...

Annoyance # 427: people clapping in the movie theater at the end of the movie.

Why? Why do you clap at the end of a movie? It makes no freaking sense. And its retarded. So just knock it off, will ya? You're annoying the sane, reasonable, nonretarded people.

Okay, I can understand clapping if you're at a movie premier in say, Hollywood or New York or wherever, and the cast is there, or the director, or producer, or grip boy, or anyone even remotely connected to the making of the movie is there. You like the movie, and you want to give the people involved their due. Give them mad props. Go ahead. Clap the fuck away.

And I can understand clapping at the end of a movie that is particularly moving. Did it make you cry? Did it touch you to the very depths of your soul? Then clap. Go ahead. Let it out. Clap and cry and clap and sing out in praise for the glory and beauty of the film you just saw.

This makes sense.

And therefore, this kind of clapping is not annoying.

But for the love of all things purple and fuzzy, don't fucking clap at the end of Spiderman 3!!!

Seriously, what the hell is up with that?

Spiderman 3?

Really?

This movie inspired you to let loose with the clapfest?

What the bloody hell is wrong with you?

Of course, when I write "you", I'm talking to the people I shared movie theater space with this weekend. And anyone else that claps at a silly movie. If you didn't/don't clap, I have no beef with you.

If you did/do clap... can you tell me why? Maybe explain it to me? It'll still annoy me, but maybe I'll understand your strange species a little bit better. And that's good for everyone.

The first movie I can remember people clapping at the end of (and they were clapping furiously too) was the Omega Code, possibly one of the worst movies of all time. The movie was a trifecta of bad: bad acting, bad script, bad everything. And at the end of the film, as I'm about to jump from my seat to make a hasty exist, the theater erupts in a storm of applause.

There was a moment there where panic seized my body. Holy shit, I thought. These people have been possessed by aliens. Aliens who enjoy watching horribly torturous movies.

Of course, I survived the encounter with the aliens, for I am still alive today to tell about it.

And there have been movies since then that have garnered applause from possessed theater patrons.

And then Spiderman 3 came out. And people went to see it. In droves. And some of them felt compelled to clap at the end of it.

And I felt compelled to slap some sense into all of them.

Spiderman 3? Really?

Sure, it was an entertaining movie but...

...but...

WHY???

I love it when the chatbot implies that I'm crazy.

2007-05-07T10:50:00.000-07:00

I was having the best conversation I've ever had with jabberwacky this morning. I'd type a response, hit send, go about some work, come back to the page and laugh, then send the bot another line. It was marvelous. Then I hit the "our conversation so far" link to save the conversation for posterity and... nothing. Error. Conversation lost because I took too long between chats.

Sigh.

So I typed it up from memory and you know what? It wasn't that marvelous after all. But here it is anyway. The wording isn't exact, but its pretty darn close.

jw: Do you like your name?
me: Yes, I'm quite attached to it.
jw: I'm in my computer.
me: Holy cow, are you a foot tall?
jw: No, are you?
me: No, but I have a foot. Two actually.
jw: Tell me about your foot.
me: Why, do you have a foot fetish or something?
jw: What is wrong with me?
me: Do you want a list?
jw: Yes.
me: 1) you smell. 2) you ask weird questions. 3) you want to know about my foot. Shall I go on?
jw: Do you like me?

(Okay, the following is now an exact copy. Because its all the jabby bothered to save. Silly bot.)

me: Of course, I don't cyber with just anyone.
jw: I'm not just anyone.
me: Of course not baby. You're special.
jw: Are you sure it's not you that needs a shrink and not me?
me: What are you trying to tell me jabbermuffin?
jw: No Neo... I'm just trying to free your Mind.
me: Sweet! I've been needing that.

And the folders, they started talking to me, and... Garp!

2007-04-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

I think CoWorker Jack has read yesterday's post. The one in which I claimed to be sunny. Because this is what I found in my email this morning.

Gee Jack, your microsoft paint skillz are really improving. Good job!

Bitch.

:P

Interview Me

2007-04-25T11:04:00.000-07:00

I saw this at fauve's and thought, 'I haven't done one of those before' so I offered to be interviewed, even though later I thought, 'hmm, actually, I think I have done one before'.

But I got some questions anyways so I'll be talking about myself, regardless. Which is always a plus. At least for me. I've had the questions for a couple of days now, but I've been sick with an Evil Stomach Virus From Hell, so I've been out of commission. Even back at work, I still feel out of commission. Meh. Stupid evil hell born stomach virus.

1. What is your greatest strength?

The ability to crack walnuts with my Tits of Steel (tm).

But seriously, um... I'd probably say it was my sunny disposition.

(Don't laugh Coworker Jack. I'm sunny dammit! I am! I am! I am!)

I'm usually (i.e. when not-work-stressed or evil-virus-recovering) positive and upbeat and can find the silver lining on almost every cloud. I dunno, I think that's a strength.

2. What is your biggest weakness?

This question reminds me of some of the interviews I've been on where they've asked this question. It's like good lord, do they really expect me to tell a possible future employer that I sing Neil Diamond songs in the shower? How does that make me look like a team player?

Seriously messed up work interview question. What's the point?!?! They don't want the truth. They want an imaginative lie. And I'm not good at on-the-spot lying. It's hard to come up with something that's bad but not 'pension for lighting squirrels on fire' bad. I guess I should have had a standard standby Weakness answer.

I usually responded with whatever I answered to the 'greatest strength' question, because that one always precedes the 'weakness' question. Like, if I'd answered, 'Oh, I'm very helpful' to the first question, I would responded with, 'Well, gosh, you see, sometimes I'm tooooo helpful.'

Such a hard question when being interviewed for a job.

But this isn't a job. So its easy to answer :)

A: laziness!

3. If you had $100 to spend on anything you wanted, what would you buy?

The new Sookie book. But that's not that expensive.

I could spend it on clothes. I was in my favorite clothes store the other day with my mom, days before my birthday, a combination that just screamed, "BIRTHDAY PRESENT TIME!" but this was the first day of the Evil Stomach Virus From Hell so I didn't even feel like trying anything on. :( No fancy pretty clothes from mommy for my birthday this year. So sad.

Is a $100 bucks enough to by a digital camera? If so, I'd buy one of those. One of the good ones.

If not, I'd spend it on a new flat screen monitor for the computer. Or better yet, I'd spend it on a new video card. I really need to start pimping the computer up a bit. Give it more juice. More bling bling. The monitor is like, huge and bulky and so 2001.

4. Are you superstitious? If so, what about?

No. Or at least I try not to be. I might have been when I was younger, I just can't quite remember at this time.

I do remember being in high school, on the water polo team, and seeing someone stick different coins under their swim cap for good luck. They would do this every game, and get all antsy if they were ever running out of time to do so. Watching the girl get all antsy made me think, "What if she didn't have time to put the coins under her cap? Would she think she's going to have bad luck? Is that going to totally mess her up in the game?"

So from then I tried not to have any superstitious rituals. Because if I forgot to touch a certain item or say a certain word or wear a certain item, it would have messed me up. You do the ritual for good luck. You do it because you believe to some extent that it will work. So if you break the ritual, how can you think that everything will still be fine and hunky dory? Trying to convince yourself that you didn't just curse yourself is not a good mind set to be in when you're about to compete against the enemy.

Oooh I just remembered a superstitious act I used to follow as a kid. When I walked home from school I wouldn't step on any cracks. You know, so my momma's back wouldn't break. It was more because I was bored than I was worried about the state of my mom's back, but I followed it almost religiously. Because the walk home was so boring.

Today, I'll step on the crack, I don't care. My mom's back isn't getting any worse.

If I spill salt, I'll toss some over my shoulder, but only because its silly fun.

I do knock on wood sometimes... mainly to hedge my bets. I guess that's the most superstitious that I get nowadays.

5. Have you ever tried online dating? If so, what were your experiences like?

Never tried it. I started dating the HB before that ever got big. Would I ever try it? Well... I'd hate to say no, never. But I'd be very reluctant, and hesitant for a long while, mainly because I would dread putting up a picture of myself. Bleagh.

Obligatory Addendum:

Don't forget to add the rules at the bottom:
If you want to continue, here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me." And your email address.
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the
questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else
in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five
questions.

Sticky Forehead

2007-04-18T09:20:00.000-07:00

If I didn't loathe the idea of posting a picture of myself on the internet, and if I had a digital camera like I've been wanting to get for the past gabillion years, I would so take a picture of myself with this post-it note stuck to my forehead that has the words "SMILE DAMMIT!" scribbled across it and post it here for the world to see.

I really would.

It made the stressed out Mr. Desk Neighbor chuckle, so I guess I could take it off now. Post-it note glue is kinda itchy after awhile. But I kinda like seeing the blue note hanging over my eyes. Like I'm a rebel with blue bangs or something.

In before quittin' time.

2007-04-13T15:39:00.000-07:00

You know what, eating lunch at 9 in the morning really throws my day out of whack. A coworker went on a food run for the rest of us in the office this morning. Some people opted to eat breakfast. I opted to go the sandwich route.

And by 1pm this afternoon it felt like my day should have been long over. My brain kept thinking, "but we ate lunch hours ago! We should be heading home on the freeway by now! Why are we still here?"

My brain's kind of whiny like that sometimes.

I've decided to end this posting marathon (because yes, for me, four posts in one day means I've been marathoning it up like a post-marathoning-mutha-effer) with a post of:

Favorite Office Sayings Of The Day

"Don't get all butt-hurt"

(Question Time: Is the phrase hyphenated? Or is it 'butthurt'? Or maybe just two words like I'd originally typed before anal-y (heh) analyzing it? Hmmmm...)

Coworker #1: "Look, I found a power cord!"
Coworker #2: "Hey, more power to ya!"

(bwahahahahahahahahaha)

"Garp."

(Inside office joke that will never get old!)

And my ultimate favorite and one I want to work into conversation at the first available opportunity:

"Don't trip, Biscuit, it's alright."

Things That Annoy Me: #238

2007-04-13T12:42:00.000-07:00

I have a brother. (No, he's not Annoyance #238. Keep reading. Sheesh.) As far as I can remember, as long as we lived together (~16 years) we shared a bathroom. And I was fine with that. Sharing a bathroom with a boy, even one that happened to be my little brother, was a-okay with me. In fact, it never occurred to me to ever not be fine with it.

I mean, sure, he peed on the toilet seat occasionally, which, yeah, is kinda gross. But he's my brother. He's family. So it's not like it was 'ew I'm gonna die' gross. Close, but... anyway, I didn't mind sharing a bathroom with my brother.

When I moved away to college I moved into the dorms and shared a bathroom with a bunch of girls. But bathroom sharing with girls is not the topic of this post so let's move along shall we? Cool.

After a year of that I moved into a house with three guys and another girl and shared a bathroom with two of the guys. There was never a problem with this arrangement. I didn't mind sharing a bathroom with them. They were clean, friendly people. They were fellow swimmers, they was my peeps. In fact, I was probably the messiest of the three. Plus, I was a girl and had Girl Only products hidden in my little under-the-sink-cabinet so if anyone had a problem it was probably one of those two knuckleheads.

(Plus, I had this weird habit of putting strands of loose hair that came out after shampooing up on the wall (so they wouldn't clog up the drain) and sort of... sometimes... forgot to remove it when I removed myself from the shower. So they might have... uh... sometimes... stepped into the shower to find a big hairball hanging from the wall. I'm better at removing the hairy wall art now. Really.)

After a year of that I moved in with the HB. Who is a boy. And I've been sharing a bathroom with this boy for awhile now. And again, I'm in a situation where I'm the messiest bathroom occupant so sharing it with a neat person hasn't been that bad. Plus, he doesn't pee on the seat like my lil brother used to do. So its been all good.

So ever since I was little, and mommy and daddy came home with a brother of all things, I've shared a bathroom with someone of the opposite gender (except for that one wild year in college where I experimented sharing space with girls - heh). I've never really had a bad experience. Nothing that has ever made me throw my fist in there air, shout at the sky and proclaim, "NEVER AGAIN!" in regards to boy-bathroom-sharing.

But that was before They moved me into an office in the back of the warehouse.

The bathroom situation here at work hasn't always been the greatest. For a couple of years, as I worked in a different office here in the back, I had to think/plan ahead. It was about a five minute walk to the nearest bathroom (no joke, I timed it once) so it wasn't wise to hold it. (Which I tend to do. Don't ask me why, might just be a girl thing... or just a weird person thing). Because if you were in that office, and really had to go, it was really embarrassing to speed walk past people in the No-Pee-Pee squinch walk.

This new office though, has a bathroom right around the corner. Yeah!

Unfortunately, this bathroom is RIGHT across the hall (and by hall I mean tiny little area barely wide enough for 2 people to stand in and not touch inappropriately) from one of my bosses. And unfortunately, they didn't build these rooms back here with sound efficiency in mind. So any noise you make can be heard by anyone within a several foot radius. Any private stuff you want to do better be done when everyone is on their coffee break.

And yes, there is only one bathroom here. It's communal. Which means I have to share a bathroom with a bunch of boys. I didn't think I'd have a problem with this because I've shared bathrooms with boys before! Sharing bathroom space with boys is fine!

Uh.

Yeah.

Not so much anymore. Not with the guys I have to work with.

I won't get into any of the 'omg ew I'm gonna die' grossness that's happened. But its definitely starting to annoy me. I've been tempted several times to make the 7 to 8 minute trek over to nearest bathroom.

Boys are so gross :P

I'm Loonzilla. Here me roar.

2007-04-13T10:07:00.001-07:00

Work is starting to stress me out. To the point where I'm randomly busting out with my best Godzilla impression.

"AaaaaAAAaaarrrrrRRRrrrrrggggh."

Trust me, it's enchanting. Like I'm channeling the power of an ancient siren or something.

We put all this work and effort into preparing for The Big Switch Over. It was supposed to happen this past January.

It didn't happen.

We were then told that most departments would Switch Over the following year, next January. My department, along with a few others, were told we'd enjoy the Switch Over in May.

So we've been preparing.

Gearing up for the Big Heave Hoe to the Old, girding our work-loins for the Big Howdy Do to the New. It's been a pain in the ass to say the least.

But there was comfort to be found, in the Fast As Hell approaching month of May. Almost every week, starting near the end of March, has brought this realization to mind:

"Holy crap nuggets its almost May! Do you know what the means? We're almost done with this crap!!!!"

Mental Snoopy dances quickly followed.

But everything can't remain peachy and rosy and snoopy happy forever. Not in Business World.

So I'm on this conference call earlier this week, getting a refresher on one of many aspects of my new job as it will appear in Big Switch Over Land. At the end of the call, at the end of the slideshow (conference meetings via the web are awesome), the leader of the call asked if there were any questions.

No one voiced any, and I'm hoping its because they're all like me: there are too many to ask, so were do we begin? I mean, the slideshow made sense. It was all neat and simple and to the point. But it doesn't talk about what to do when a), b), c), etc goes wrong. Because nothing in the Real World is ever so neat and simple and to the point. Well, at least when you work with morons. And really, who doesn't?

Seriously. Who doesn't? I want to know where to send in my resume!

One person grunted. A few people sighed. Someone laughed in a nervous twitter. But no questions were asked. The leader of the call then said, and I swear this is a direct quote:

"It's not as bad as you think."

Gee, I feel so much better now.

Well, I did, at least until someone mentions that The Big Switch over has been postponed. Again. For a couple of months at least. So all the hectic last minute rushes we've been doing has been a waste. Because we'll have to do it all over again in a couple of months.

"AaaaaAAAaaarrrrrRRRrrrrrggggh."

Noodles! And how they annoy me.

2007-04-13T08:32:00.000-07:00

I'm going to see how often I can post today. I've got a post already written. And a few ideas already noted down in this little word doc where I corral all the lame little ideas I get. And I'm kinda in a mood to write and post a bunch of them.

Possible Blog Fodder for Today: the bathroom situation at work and how it annoys me, insurance companies and how they annoy me, moronic coworkers and how they annoy me (common topic, but oh so fun to write about), and a cute conversation with the HB (who only annoys me every now and then, but makes up for it by listening to me complain about moronic coworkers and how they annoy me).

So I've got this idea to post a lot today. Which means total and utter chaos will happen here at work which will keep me from reaching this goal. Because that's what always happens when I plan something like this. And Fridays seems to be a prime time for all the work shit to hit the work fan.

Soooooo.... place your bets. Make your guess. Pick a number. How many posts can a post poster post if a post poster could post posts? And don't anyone think one, just this one, because then my feelings will be hurt.

Because I'm totally posting at least twice. Even if its just a one line "noodles!" post. :)

Friday's Are Full of Awesome

2007-03-30T13:45:00.000-07:00

7:35 AM

Show up for work late.
For the second day in a row.
Maybe I shouldn't try and catch up on tivo'd shows in the morning.

7:40 AM

Grab a cup of coffee.
Open outlook.
Revel in the fact that today is MUTHA EFFIN FRIDAY!

7:45 AM

An outlook meeting reminder pops up.
For an 8 o'clock conference call.
That I completely forgot about. Bleagh.

8:00 AM

Try and connect to the conference call several times.
My phone doesn't work. Two other phones don't work. WTF?
It's potty mouth time.

8:05 AM

Check outlook again and see everyone else is having trouble connecting.
Get a new number to dial.
It works! Yay!

8:21 AM

The guy who's supposed to be running the call finally joins in.
People start talking about stuff that doesn't make any sense.
Why are we talking about stuff we've talked about a gabillion times before?

9:07 AM

The call finally ends. All the work that we (i.e. Super Co-Worker ZackJack) did validating data was a waste of time. Because that data was apparently crap. So they're re-downloading our data - hopefully in an un-crap-afied manner - and resending it overseas to those Overseas Data People, who will then compile it into files to be sent back to us to peruse and decipher and validate.

And do you wanna know when they want a final "OK!" from us? Today! Last time we had several days to go over it. Now we have several hours. If that. Which, okay, is fine, because there should be less to go over. If we ever get the damn files. Someone on the call said they'd update us every thirty minutes on that status of the new files.

9:35 AM

The first email update is sent out.
"The files haven't dropped yet."
Are we birthing them?

10:56 AM

The second email update is sent out.
The files have been updated from our site and sent to Those People.
We're still waiting for the files to come back.
And the bunnies frolicked in the fields in rapturous majesty.

11:19 AM

I translated a lyric for Mr. Desk Neighbor.
ME: They're singing 'I want to get to you and that booty.'
DN: Ohhhh.
ME: 'I want to get to you and that monkey.'
DN: ...
ME: Monkey? What the hell does that mean anyway?
After much laughing Mr. DN pointed... er... downwards.

11:37 AM

Chow down on awesome graham cracker cereal for lunch.
Sippin' on the Juicy Juice.
Play with the squirrels.

11:54 AM

The third email update: "Still waiting on the files."
Poor east coast guys.
They might have to work late, or work Saturday, to finalize the files.
If we ever get them.

1:37 PM

Hmmmm... when they said they'd update us every 30 minutes I laughed.
Every 30 minutes? Really? Will there be that many?
Apparently there will be.
So many, in fact, that they're skipping a few to conserve email bandwidth or something.

There's been no update since noon.
I feel so lost without them.

1:47 PM

Oooh! Ooooh! Another status email update!
All files but one have been uploaded!
Weeeeee! Time to validate data!
And the chipmunks dance merrily in fields of rainbows.

[ The Awesome Friday isn't over yet, but I'm posting this now because odds are something CATASTROPHIC will happen right before I need to leave for the day which means I'll be running around like a headless chicken and have no time to finish it, and no foresight to email this to myself to finish it at home. I guess I could email it now... but that would make too much sense now wouldn't it. ]

Certifiably Me

2007-03-27T09:21:00.001-07:00

You know how when you were little, and in grade school, and your teacher licked his/her finger when counting out pages of paper to pass out to each row of students? Do you remember how gross that was?

Ewwwwww! Teacher spit on my paper! I can't touch it! I can't! Accccckkkkk!

Well, I remember.

And you know what? I lick paper all the time now.

All. The. Time.

Who knew it was such a normal adult thing to do. Certainly not me, back in the day. The good old days when teacher spit was toxic.

It's hard to think of myself as an adult sometimes. I mean, to me, I'm the same person I was back in high school. Yeah, I'm fatter and slower and more wise to the world than I was back then. But I still feel... I don't know. I kind of feel like I'm that same person. Or at least the early-college-barely-20 me. I've had new experiences, grown up a bit, raised a hamster... I'm more me than I was back then. More me than I knew was in me to be. If that makes sense.

And yet I don't feel like its been ten years since I was in high school, hanging out behind the Spanish building eating lunch with my girlfriends and their boyfriends. Sometimes it's a little jolt to realize that I'm someone different now. And no, I don't constantly live in that time, reminiscing about nothing else. I guess I just need to adjust my frame of reference. Get it more up to date.

This summer is my high school class's 10 year reunion. That's almost more unbelievable than my upcoming 28th birthday. I was freaking mystified when I turned 27. I don't know how to feel about 28 yet.

It's not that I feel I'm getting old. Because 28 isn't old. It never seemed like an old age to be when I was young. It was just... different. It's not that people in their late-20's/30's/etc are old, its that they're different than me. They're something I'll become way, waaaaaaaaay in the future.

And holy crap that future is now. Because I'm in my late 20's.

When I was little, I idolized the big kids on my swim team. They were so cool. I used to follow them around whenever they would let me. One girl in particular. She was a backstroke superstar and when she took time out to show me some tricks I almost melted into the water in joy overload. And then I became one of The Big Kids. I remember once wondering, 'do any of these little kids look at me the same way?' And I realized I'd advanced into that next 'age group'.

I guess that's probably what's at the core of it all. I should be/feel/act differently now that I'm in this other group. I mean, I do to some extent... just not enough apparently. I'm no longer the little girl looking up at these people, admiring them, idolizing, etc. I'm one of those people.

A grownup.

Wait... let me rephrase that...

A grownup?

Legally I'm an adult. That happened when I turned 18.

When the hell did I become a grownup?!?!

Well, I lick my fingers when I sort through papers.

I have for a long time now.

So I guess it's official.

finger licking = certified adulthood

Wow, this started off as just a little reminiscence over teacher spit and look what it turned into. A few minutes ago I licked my finger, began rifling through a stack of papers on my desk and then WHAMO - an instantaneous flashback of my fifth grade teacher slobbering all over our handouts. So I started writing about it and then WHAMO - instantaneous introspection.

The Muse is A Flaky Whore! News at 11

2007-03-19T08:26:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't written here in awhile. My bad. Same excuse as usual: I've been either busy doing school work (end-of-the-quarter-rush-a-thon) or busy doing work work (governor to declare my desk a disaster area! news at 11!) that I neglected to do while I was busy doing school work. Or I've been home (the computer-for-games-only zone).

Or I've been procrastinating with work-inspired art.

It won't make any sense, but this is some of the stuff I've been creating, then sending along in e-mails.

I have thought about blogging, but then felt immediately guilty for not doing what I should be doing.

Or I've been creating more work-art.

But Coworker Jack has requested a new post. Actually, he requested it awhile ago. But there was the guilt factor. And the Muse Is A Flaky Whore factor. I had nothing to write about really, other than the boring drivel I've been writing about lately. I'm usually highly amused by my own musings, but even those were on the verge of driving me crazy.

I thought about complaining about the 9 straight hours of training I was schedule for last week (only ended up being half that, with a huge break in the middle) but after I complained to co-workers and the HB I didn't feel like complaining here. I was just going to make something up, something that was more exciting than what's actually going on in the World Of Me, but... well, the Muse Is A Flaky Whore.

I was going to write about how cute the HB is. Had it all written up actually, on valentines day, but when I tried to post it the Internet Gods denied me access to blogger. So meh. I was going to post it later, when the Internet Gods realized their folly, but then the HB ticked me off, and I wasn't in the luvy-duvy posting mood. Now? He's on the road to being cute again. So maybe in the future there will be a luvy-duvy gooey post of HB adorableness.

But for now, until the Muse gets back in gear (which is hopefully soon since after I turn in my 10-pager in the next hour or so I'll be officially done with the current school quarter), I will share the following Office Conversation I had with Mr. Desk Neighbor while we were trying to 'one-up' each other.

Me: *slaving away at the computer in a very intensive-mouse-click-y exercise*
Mr. Desk Neighbor: Why can't you close the records all at once?
Me: I can't, I have to skip some. I have to close them in chunks.
Mr. DN: I remember chunks.
Me: ...
Mr. DN: I remember blowing chunks. [insert self-congratulator-chuckling here]
Me: Who's Chunks?

Dear Office Hotty

2007-02-12T13:48:00.000-08:00

Alternate Title: An Open Letter To The Freaking Moron Who Keeps Turning On The Freaking Air Conditioner In The Middle Of Freaking ~~January~~February

Dear Moronic Office Worker,

I humbly request that you remove most, if not all, of your parkas, scarves, beanies, gloves, thermal sock cozies, etc. because obviously you are dying from heat. You poor thing.

I mean, why else would you be turning on the air conditioner in the middle of winter?

Yes, it doesn't feel like winter yet in SoCal. Yes, it was rather sunny and warm last week. And yes, even though the weather turned a bit colder over the weekend its still not cold enough to warrant major heater usage.

But you know what?

It's still freaking ~~January~~February so stop with the a/c use already! It's cold enough in here without the a/c. It doesn't need to be colder.

If you want cold, go to the mountains. I think I saw snow up there. Somewhere. When the smog cleared enough for me to see that there were actual mountains just a few miles away.

So please, for the love of all that is warm and fuzzy, stop turning on the a/c in my office.

I thank you. My fingers thank you. And my nipples thank you.

That is all.

Signed,
Lisa

On a brighter (if not warmer) note, Mr. Desk Neighbor brought in a CD of big band music and we're listening to it now. Sweet! Is there a better way to 'swing' through the first day back at work after the weekend (besides alcohol that is)? I think not.

munch munch mmmmm... dandelions... munch munch

2007-02-09T08:33:00.000-08:00

Today is Day 5 of the Week Long Training Marathon From Hell.

Actually, it hasn't been that bad. Coworker Jack is an awesome teacher.

*blows the teacher an air kiss across the room and tries to earn brownie points*

He'd be just a bit better though if he learned how to keep his unruly students (i.e. everyone but me, of course) in line and keep them on topic so they stop whining about all of our problems that exist, that have existed for YEARS and will CONTINUE to exist even in this new work environment we're learning.

It's probably unavoidable, the whining, what with the never ending frustration with the way things run and the daunting task of having to learn new habits and work flows and a new computer system.

But still, I'm at the point where if one of these guys whines about so-and-so doing/not doing such-and-such and why doesn't Management do this or that I'm hitting them with my 500+ page training manual until they cry. Anything to keep us on topic so we're not here until 7 tonight.

I mean seriously, if they want to whine they should do it on their own time. They can get a blog and whine to someone who cares. :)

Mr Imaginary Blog Reader, you do care right? *sniffle*

The training was supposed to be 8 hours long, for a week straight. That was going to be bad enough, but when Monday showed up, and we (the three of us in my department) were busy learning how to do our new jobs instead of waiting on the edge of the diving board ready to dive through a series of flaming hoops, The Boss decided we should stay here for 12 hours and cram in a couple of hours to keep up with our normal work load.

If I'd known ahead of time, that would have been one thing - I'd been planning to come in an hour early and catch up a bit anyways - but to spring that on us at the last moment kind of sucks.

"By the way, instead of being here from 7:30am to 4:00pm you'll be coming in at 5:30am and leaving at 5:30pm. Starting today. Have a nice Monday!"

I'm used to long days anyways for school, but at least then the day is broken up between work and school. Being here at work, for 12 hours straight, (most of which is spent in a small room, full of heat generating computers, that the boss's boss didn't feel needed to be air conditioned!) is a drag. But after today its over!

And at least we'll be able to put our training to use right away while its all fresh in our heads and... oh wait, that's right, we won't even be using the new system until May.

/sigh

I could go on and on about this, and I might later. I haven't had time to post any of my whinings because I've been busy trying to pay attention. (And when I don't post here I vent to the HB, poor guy, and get it all out of my system). But my mind has finally snapped. It broke the gate and is out wandering in the pasture, eating dandelions. So I might be posting more today. We'll see. Depends on if I run out of dandelions to munch on.

How I've Spent My Friday (So Far)

2007-02-02T15:50:00.000-08:00

1. Woke up early (before the alarm! oh the injustice!) so I finished watching the tivo'd episode of Veronica Mars that was so lame it took awhile to watch because I had to watch it in 15 minute chunks of time so that the lameness didn't totally kill me. I used to <3 that show so much, but after the episodes so far this season, and seeing the clips for next week... I just don't think I know who you are any more Veronica. What happened? I thought we were going to be BFF's!!! I'm sorry to say this Veronica, but I think you need to go to Suckiness Therepy. Check yourself into an open 24 hour Suckiness Clinic. Let a doctor check that out for you. Please. Come back to me V!

2. Came to work. And then the inevitable happened. I did some work. I know, I know, but I couldn't help it. I tried to avoid it but I'm going to be in a week long 8hr-a-day training marathon next week so I didn't want my desk to get too messy with reminder notes.

3. Started a game of tag with some girlfriends via email. It didn't last very long, but soon the conversation turned to dodgeball. Which inspired the following brilliant piece of pixel artwork.

And yes, the caption/title needs some work. Something snappier.

4. Decided to eat some leftover pork ribs from a vendor sponsored lunch-apalooza two days ago. Only problem is there's no microwave back here. So I set it on the back end of my monitor. Have you ever felt the back of your computer monitor before? Bitch gets hot back there. But, apparently, not hot enough to heat cold leftovers. After a half hour of warming I moved it to the coffee pot burners. Tried that for about 2 minutes before I got bored - and hungry - and decided to eat it lukewarm. A temperature which lasted for maybe 3 minutes before it turned cold again. Sigh. My ghetto cooking skillz are not up to parr it seems.

5. Played on the internet. And read this post which gave me a huge case of the warm-n-fuzzies. Everyone could use a case or two of those right? Right. So go over to Fauve's site (which is called "... so I stabbed him in the head with a fork", one of the greatest blog title's I've ever seen and the main reason I ventured over there in the first place), read this post, then read her entire catalog of archives (not that many months worth, don't worry), and then read this post again. Instant warm fuzzies! Seriously.

6. [ Insert the rest of the evening here --- which will more than likely include playing video games with The HB and/or going out to dinner at Claim Jumpers. For which I have a $50 dollar gift certificate. Yeehaw! ]

Turns out I won a bunch of money. Oh, and I'm a clone.

2007-01-31T08:08:00.000-08:00

First off, let me just say this: it's raining!!!! Yipee!!!!!

Okay. Now that that's out of the way, on with the point of this post.

(That was a bit of subliminal hinting, because there really isn't much of a point, but if I say there is, you'll believe it, right?)

So I get this cute little piece of spam in my college email inbox the other day. I usually ignore the spam, delete the spam, and wish the spam a happy journey when the system gets around to flushing them away, but this time... this time I decided to read the email. You know, just in case I actually did win a million dollars without really trying.

Hey, it could happen.

It's all about believing.

And I, if anything, am a believer.

I couldn't leave her if I tried. Just me and the Monkees.

Wasn't Davy just the dreamiest? *sigh*

Okay, back on point... (*hint hint*)

Turns out, according to the ~~spam~~ friendly award notification, I've won an award. If I didn't figure that out by the subject line ("AWARD NOTIFICATION, FINAL NOTICE"), they made sure I saw it immediately in the body of the email.

FROM: THE DESK OF THE VICE PRESIDENT
MR.PAUL MARK.(ACADEMIC AWARD PROMOTION)
PRIZE AWARD DEPT.

ATTN: WINNER.

RE: AWARD NOTIFICATION, FINAL NOTICE.

We are pleased to inform you, that as a result of our RECENT AWARD PROMOTION DRAWS HELD 2006...

The bolded words were bolded by me. The annoying ALL CAPS is their doing.

So yea me, I won an award! And its worth, get this:

(FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND US DOLLARS)

I didn't have to fill out a form or write an essay or anything. Best. Contest. EVER!

Their program just randomly selected email addresses:

from all search engines and web sites,from Asia, Australia, NewZealand, Europe, North and South America, Middle East and Africa, as part of our International Promotions Program.

I don't know how my college email address landed in a search engine or a website since I never give it out and only use it to check for school work and campus crime alerts and roommate wanted ads and last quarter's text book sales. Oh, and award spams. Maybe my college email address is listed on the college website somewhere? Hmm... maybe. Or maybe this program of MR.PAUL MARK's is super psychic and knew my email wanted to be out there, running rampant on websites and whatnot, if only it didn't have a boring, unfun, unattentive master who played with her other emails more, neglecting its poor little college email butt.

Good thing MR.PAUL MARK was around to give my email addy a lil' lovin'. Because dude, I won 500 G's!

Woot-asaurus-rex!

I'd also like to give a big shout out to the sponsors of the AWARD. The "eminent personalities like the Sultan of Brunei Igwe of ibo's and oba of yoruba other corporate organizations". Yeah, you peeps know who you are, even though I don't. Though I think Ibo's And Oba sounds like a great folks-y funk rock band name. No?

The next part of the email states the following, and since its freaking all capped again, it must be important for me to take note of:

THIS IS TO IMPROVE THE LEVEL OF EDUCATION WORLDWIDE AND ALSO HELP THE DISABLED IN UNIVERSITIES AND TO ENCOURAGE THE USE OF INTERNET AND COMPUTERS WORLDWIDE.

Is MR.PAUL MARK calling me disabled? No really, I think he is. I think I'm winning this award because the level of my education needs to be improved (which, okay, I guess could be useful) and because I'm disabled and need help (which, uh, ouch!).

And, obviously, I don't spend enough time on the internet. Which is so true. I think $500,000 will help increase my internet time substantially. This MR.PAUL MARK dude really knows how to make a girl's day.

All I have to do to claim my AWARD is contact my claims agent, my "accredited" (read: "we legit, biotches!"), who, I kid you not, is named: Rev (Dr) Martin Johnson. I mean really, can you get any more legit than a Rev (Dr)? Seriously. Can you? Maybe if he had "Former President" in his title. Or "Former Oprah Book of the Month Club Author". Then he'd really sound accredited.

I really want to call the number they list. But not like, from my phone or anything where they can charge a buttload for the call, not that I believe MR.PAUL MARK or the Rev (Dr) Martin Johnson would do anything like that. I'm just cautious. And curious.

After the phone number and the email addresses there's a list of information I need to be able to supply.

Name in full
Address
Nationality
Age
Occupation
Phone/Fax
Batch Number
Serial Number

My eyes flitted over the list quickly, looking for the catch (sorry Paul and Martin, I'm just paranoid like that) and stopped at "Serial Number". A-ha! I thought. That must mean they want my ssn, the bastards! I knew it!

Then my eyes traveled up a bit and saw the phrase "Batch Number". And I thought, What the fuck? Do they think I grew in the lab in a little petri dish? I mean really, I'm not that disabled. Sheesh.

The rest of the email is written in bad grammar and is really hard to understand. But it appears to be mainly legal mumbo jumbo about percentage fees I have to pay out of my winnings because my winnings are currently being insured for some reason or another. That's just swell.

And, upon further inspection of the email, (as I wrote this up, not because I was wondering if I should call the number now or when I get home, really!) I found the batch number and serial number the email was talking about. Darn, guess I'm not a clone after all. Turns out my prize is connected to some batch drawing, with serial numbers and reference numbers and ticket numbers and holy cow could they make that any more complicated? Each number series looks like a swiss bank account security code. Like I can keep all those numbers straight! Pffffft!

Guess I won't be contacting my special accredited claims agent Rev (Dr) Martin Johnson after all. If only they'd made it as easy as winning the damn thing in the first place. Hellooo-ooo, I'm DISABLED, remember?

Bestest Spamage Ever

2007-01-24T07:45:00.000-08:00

Now, don't judge me (too much) but I found this in my Inbox and it, quite honestly, made my day.

I mean, how sweet is that!

Awwwwwh.

Memory Flatulencitus

2007-01-23T07:32:00.000-08:00

One of the side effects of being tired is forgetfulness.

Sudden and Complete Memory Flatulence.

Translated into street terms: brain farts.

It all started yesterday, this tale of nothingness, as so many tales of nothingness are want to do. Yesterday, my co-workers did not approve of my music selections. I have a pretty eclectic taste so you'd think I'd be able to DJ for the masses. Only problem is, I only have a few songs saved on my computer. And while I keep meaning to bring in a bunch of different CD's... well... that's all still in the "meaning" stage of development.

So the guys didn't like the music I was playing. This was, I must say, quite baffling. How anyone could not approve of tunes from the musical Les Miserables, one of the longest running shows on Broadway, I do not know. The music is powerful. Beautiful. Inspiring. Fun. And shit, if I listen to the whole thing the whole way through I have to keep myself from crying sometimes. There's some deep moving shit in that music!

Anywhoo... as the guys complained, and talk of other musicals came up, Coworker Jack started singing "a spoonful of sugar..." He apparently only knows that one line, as that's all he felt compelled to sing, so I felt it was imperative that I bring in my Mary Poppins soundtrack CD with extreme immediacy. I offered to bring in my Singing In The Rain and Seven Brides For Seven Brothers CD's as well.

Let me tell you, those boys never giggled with so much anticipatory glee.

While I thought of all the soundtracks I could bring in, Mary Poppins was still "tip of the top" priority. Partly to exercise that spoonful song out of my head, but mainly because its just a darn fun CD. So, like I do whenever there's something important for me to remember, I took a pen and wrote myself a note. On the back of my hand. There's no way I can forget to see my hand!

So last night, I see the note, and think, "I should get up, get the CD, and put it in my bag before I forget." This thought was quickly followed up by, "Meh, I'll do it in the morning. I've still got the note on my hand!"

Another side effect of tiredness? Laziness.

But I digress...

So this morning, as I'm getting ready for work in a haze of sleepiness that defies the laws of gravity, I see the note scribbled on the back of my hand. And I think, "Remember CD! Remember CD! Remember CD! Go get it nowwwwww!!!!"

First, I finished tying my shoe.

And then I brain farted.

Pffffffffffffffffffffffffttttttttttttttt.... ttt.

I'm at work, with the note still on my hand. But no CD. Waaaah.

Guess its Les Mis time again. :)

When Office Morons Attack

2007-01-18T15:41:00.000-08:00

Okay, vent time. I have to vent or I'll explode like some kind of exploding thing and no one is here to hear me. Well, Mr. Desk Neighbor came back to his desk half way through typing this all out, so I vented to him. Several cuss words were used. The back story behind the email conversation, which he was copied on, was explained, and then the email was shown. And he didn't seem effected by the other person's idiocy. He didn't seem shocked. Or dismayed. Or outraged. He didn't join me in burning her name in effigy.

So he's dumb. So I'm finishing my vent via typing.

At my Place Of Employment, the way we buy things is this: someone requests an item by filling out a form on the computer. Sometimes I fill it out for them. Then its approved by a supervisor. Then I turn it into a purchase order (p.o.). Then I place the order. In a perfect world (re: some place other than my P.O.E.) that's how it usually works. I don't do everything (thank god) because we have a checks and balances system going on. I can't approve orders and I can't receive orders. This keeps me from buying a yacht or a jet or a pony with the company's money. Darn.

(Off topic a bit... but what kind of dumb ass spelling is 'yacht' anyways. Silly ancient English (or whoever invented that word) people.)

So I get an email this morning from the lady that pays the bills. She has an invoice for something that was ordered outside of the system, so now we need to backtrack and create a p.o. for our records. Happens all the time.

From: Office Queen
Lisa, please issue po for this attached file. thanks

The attached file was a copy of the invoice with an amount scribbled up at the top. The amount didn't seem to match what's listed on the invoice, so I called her up for clarification. Turns out I'm an idiot and didn't see that the attached file had several pages. Oops. But during this phone call she asks if I've received the packing slips for the items on the invoice.

Now, I receive some receipts because some items do get charged to my account (which is how, I guess, I really could buy myself a pony... and then ride it as I flee the country so they can't find me and ask me about the weird Ponies-R-Us charge to my corporate card). But more often than not, the receipts go to the Office Queen. So I am puzzled by her question. Why in the world would I have them? I tell her I don't have them and she mumbles something about nagging the person who did the ordering in the first place. Cool. Fine. Talk to you later.

By the time I get back to the req in the computer to update the price, its already been approved. Sweet. So I adjust the price (ya, not a perfect checks and balances system) then do my thing, a little computer magic, and voila! It's now a purchase order! Then, like I do every time we have an After The Fact p.o., I send an email to the guy who receives, asking him to please receive the items so we can pay the bills, and I copy the Office Queen so she's all updated and stuff.

I get back the following email reply...

From: Office Queen
Lisa, I thought need to be approve first ?

(Yes, I copy and pasted that. No editing whatsoever was involved.)

I first thought to reply as such: Well, duh, how else did I get a p.o. number? I didn't exactly pull it out of my ass.

But I responded like this instead...

From: Desk Drone
It was approved. That's how I was able to make it into a PO.

And I'm thinking that settles that.

From: Office Queen
Do you have all the receipts to support that amount I gave you ?

I first thought to reply as such: Huh??? I just told you over the phone I didn't have the receipts!!! Are you mental?!?!?!?!?

My response, though, was this:

From: Desk Drone
I have not received any of those receipts. If I did, I would have given them to you

Do I sound catty in my replies? I really tried not to be. I tried to sound simple and direct. Just stating the facts ma'am. But in my head it sounds catty.

Meorrrrrrrrw.

Then the Office Queen calls me and we have the following verbal conversation:

OQ: So-and-so was going to give them to you.
Me: Why would he give me the receipts?
OQ: Who else would he give them to?
Me: Youuuuu. (I really tried to not use my Talking-To-A-5-Year-Old-Voice but she frustrates me and I just couldn't help myself.) You're the one who collects them.
OQ: Who made the req?
Me: I did... (Which has NOTHING to do with anything!) ...but you're the one who pays the invoices. You need them. I only collect receipts for orders I put on my card. Riiiiiiight?
OQ: Yeah, but person who's going to receive them needs to have them.
Me: *thinking: oh... my... gawd... *
Me: Then the receipts need to go to The Guy Who Receives Things. Because he's receiving the order. Not me.
Me: And two plus two equals foooouuuuuuuur. (no, I didn't say that)
OQ: Okay. (To the guy standing next to her) Give them to The Guy Who Recieves Things then.
Me: Okay bye.

Holy frustration batman. That conversation didn't need to happen. This is not the first time an issue like this has come up. We've been doing this job for years. This is not a new concept!

Grrrrrrrrrr.

Then the conversation turns to emails again.

From: Office Queen
Let me ask you what is the approval amount on the req. ?

Okay, again, I'm confused. I don't understand what this has to do with the price of tea in Malawi. The price is what we discussed during our first phone conversation of the day. The number scribbled at the top. You clarified it for me. I got it. Clarification received and fixed so look at the damn computer yourself and figure it the frell out.

I'm tempted to ignore the email, but I respond, and try and sound helpful and professional.

From: Desk Drone
Approval amount is for the number written at the top of the invoice, $127.88

Ta da! Perfection.

Problem solved.

Question asked and answered.

From: Office Queen
My question was the approval amount on the req not the amount I gave you. Its ok I will bring this up tomorrow in our meeting.

I first thought to reply as such: Fuck you.

But I didn't.

I mean really! Is this woman on crack? Or is it me? Because if its me I wish someone would let me know.

I have no idea why she wants to know the "approval amount". Why would that be any different than the amount the P.O. is for? Answer: it wouldn't. The price is the same. It doesn't suddenly get multipled 50 times during the conversion to the P.O. (though with the crappy software program we have I'm surprised that hasn't happened before, but I digress...) Besides, the "approval amount" doesn't matter to her. What matters to her is the final price received on the purchase order. Which is the price she told me to use. END OF PROBLEM!

Did she by any chance see that I put in a low amount at first? That happens all the time. Its no big deal. I just adjusted it. Is she worried that the supervisor didn't see the correct price? He couldn't give a shit and she knows that. I know that, because the supervisor is my boss. If she's worried, I'll forward the freaking email to him.

I am completely failing to see the point of any of her questions, other than irritating the hell out of me.

But I shouldn't worry, because thankfully she'll bring it up at tomorrow's meeting in front of everyone.

Yippee.

I tried to call her back, because I was so ready to have a verbal sparring match with her. But she wasn't picking up the phone. Which is best, I guess, because trying to understand her and make sense of what she's complaining about isn't always in a person's best interest.

If none of this makes any sense, and it seems I'm all worked up over nothing... well, all I can say is that there's a lot of history here, of her irritating the hell out of me. So irriation levels can be reached quite easily as of late. She's the kind of person who will send me an email asking me to ask The Guy Who Receives Things to receive something for her. Why she can't frelling ask him directly I have no frackin clue. So I forward the request to The Guy and copy her on it, hoping one day she'll get a clue.

I'm still full of hope. She's still full of cluelessness.

Plight of the Whiny Mechanical Walrus

2007-01-08T11:40:00.000-08:00

There's this sound - I'm not sure what its from exactly, some machine out on the warehouse floor most likely - and its driving me crazy.

Capital C-r-friggin-azy.

It sounds like a walrus getting rear ended over and over and over again.

Every second, I hear the poor walrus crying out in agony.

Every friggin second.

Actually, its more frequent than every second. It's going at about the speed of 2 whines per sec.

And it doesn't stop.

And oh holy hell its getting LOUDER.

I think it stopped for maybe five minutes a couple of hours ago, but that's it.

/cry

I've got Random Blinking Light on repeat on my comp, and its helping to drown out some of the noise. But not all of it.

And for once the voices in my head are silent.

Bitches!

I was going to write something up about how earlier today I read that it was de-lurking week, but I just can't think straight right now.

Gah!

I'm going to go find another blog to de-lurk on. Maybe that'll make the bad noise go away.

Man, if I had a gourd I'd be bored right the hell out of it.

2007-01-04T17:08:00.000-08:00

Now that the new school quarter has started up again I have to go in to work earlier and stay later on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This is in order to get all 8 hours of working fun in. For some reason my company won't pay for the few hours I need to take off to go to class.

Silly company.

I like the schedule I've come up with because it means I only drive to school three days a week, which in turn means I only have to wake up early three days a week.

Score!

Now, the perfect schedule would include a sugar daddy or a dead relative from some as-of-yet-unheard-of rich branch of the family tree that endows me with large sums of money so that I can quit work and go to school at my leisure. But since that hasn't happened (yet) I'm stuck squishing my school and work schedules together.

I'm sure I'll get used to the schedule since it's exactly like the same one I had last quarter, which I quite liked. It broke up the monotony of the day, jetting off to school and back again.

But I'd just gotten used to not doing that anymore, darn it.

Because right now, if I hadn't gone to school today, I'd be home. Right now. Instead of here. Planning world domination with a friend of mine via emails. Which, sure, is a blast, but it still means I'm here. At work! When normally I'd be home.

My body instinctively knows it should be relax-at-home-time. Even if it was cooking time, which isn't very relaxing, it'd still be cooking-at-home-time. The brain thinks its time to shut down, to go into energy conservation mode. It knows it should be home watching The Daily Show or Scrubs reruns or last night's tivo'd Top Chef.

Since its not where it thinks its supposed to be, the brain is rebelling. It's down right refusing to be entertained by all these pretty invoice numbers I'm inputting into the computer.

Bored bored bored with a half hour still left to go. Why isn't there anyone here to talk to me?!

Bueller?

Bueller?

Adventures of a night owl sloth

2007-01-04T07:36:00.000-08:00

The night before, I stayed up really late (like 1friggin30am!) and woke up around the same time as usual - well, at least as usual as its been for these last couple of "non-school" weeks. So I got a little less than 6 hours of sleep.

Fine. Okay. I dealt with it like a champ.

I was yawning by 2pm and had been wondering "is it nap time yet?" since about... oh, say, 11am. But I made it through the day without napping. Or passing out. Or zoning through most of it.

Hurray for me!

So then last night, seeing as how it was a school night (blah) I made sure I went to bed before midnight. Actual pillow contact was around 11pm. The only problem with that is I had to start waking up super early this morning to accommodate the new quarter work/school schedule (double blah).

Translation: I ended up only getting 6 hrs of sleep again.

And let me tell you something, my body is no longer conditioned to handle this kind of torture. My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds and my body feels like its wading through jell-o. Icky fruity chunky jell-o at that!

I woke up 35 minutes before I had to leave for work. 25 of those minutes disappeared in the bathroom. I know I brushed my teeth, because they feel grimy-free. I can't quite tell from my as-of-late-usually-nappy hair, but I'm pretty sure I brushed it. And maybe I peed. I just can't quite remember.

Did all of that take 25 minutes?

If not, what the hell was I doing in there?

Ooooh, deodorant! That's what... thirty seconds accounted for right there.

*sniff sniff*

Yeah, I'm deodorized.

As I was getting ready, I grabbed all of the clothes I wanted to wear today and brought them into the living room (so as to not disturb the HB - the lucky "can you change my alarm from 6 to 6:30 I feel like sleeping in some" sob - while I got ready.)

So there I am, dressing in the living room while I watch the news, because I like to pretend I'm worldly and on top of things and all grown-up and shit. I've got the essentials on and now its sock time! I grab the socks to move them closer to me... then I do something (like put my glasses on because I saw them and didn't want to forget them)... and then something else (I think I threw my cell phone in my bag so I didn't forget that either)... and then I went to put my socks on and... holy crap I can't find those gollydamn socks! Where the frell did they go!

I swear, I think I spent 5 minutes looking for those damn socks. Sure, I could have just gone and grabbed another pair, but it was the principle of the thing. I just had them in my hands! and now they'd gone and disappeared on me. I looked on the couch... under the couch... between the couch cushions... I looked in my school bag... nothing. My search radius wasn't wide because I hadn't moved more than 2 feet, and I still couldn't find the lil bastards. Socks get lost in the washing machine, sure, but this was ridiculous!

Yeah, turns out they were already on my feet.

I'd put them on and completely forgot about it.

Sigh.

And now that my eyes are fully awake and accustomed to bright lights I can see a big ass stain on the shirt I'm wearing. A formerly known as favorite shirt.

Mega sigh.

Is it nap time yet?

Act IX: where Jabby gets tired of our conversation sooner than he ever has before.

2007-01-03T12:53:00.000-08:00

Oh Jabby, is the honeymoon over already?

Jabberwacky: Them that has gets.

Loon: Gets guts?

Jabberwacky: Gets what.

Loon: Guts! Geez, can't you read?

Jabberwacky: I m tired of this.

Loon: Say it ain't so jabby!

Jabberwacky: It ain't so!

Loon: Nice! I like it when you obey me.

Jabberwacky: Why do you like that?

Loon: Why not?

Jabberwacky: You are mimicking me.

Loon: No. I'd mock you before mimicking you.

Jabberwacky: Then I am talking to myself. But this is impossible.

Loon: Obviously not. I think you solo-chat quite well.

Jabberwacky: I read.

Loon: You want a prize or something?

Jabberwacky: Ok. Come to my house.

Loon: Not on a first date buddy.

Jabberwacky: Do you go the distance on a first date?

Loon: Depends on how far I have to run.

Jabberwacky: You don't use your computer to cook pasta.

Loon: So what?

Jabberwacky: Who is it that you think you might meet then at Wimbeldon?

Loon: Dick Cheney.

Jabberwacky: Yes. Where is he?

Loon: Wimbeldon. Duh.

Jabberwacky: Well, I'm sorry if I'm boring you. I thought it was intelligent.

Loon: Well, you thought wrong. Sucker!

Jabberwacky: Oh no, I'm certain I'm right. I am always right.

Loon: Says you and what army?

Jabberwacky: Me and my cronies.

Loon: Well me and my posse could beat up you and your cronies.

Jabberwacky: Who is that?

Loon: Yo mamma!

Jabberwacky: I said that first.

Loon: No you didn't dumbass. I did. Check the log.

Jabberwacky: Is it possible that you write in a way that I'm able to understand you?

(editorial note: bwahahahahahahahahahahaha)

Loon: Probably not.

My brain is so mcfuddled I am unable to come up with a non-lame post title. Meh.

2007-01-02T14:09:00.000-08:00

Why do I keep thinking its Wednesday?

WHY?

I was off Monday, so today's my first day back at work this week, so I should be thinking its Monday. And not halfway through the week already.

Because realizing that its only Tuesday, after thinking half the week is almost over, is kind of a bummer.

Damn you mcfuddled brain!

Today is proving to be very unproductive. From me giggling over ZackJack wiggling his butt like he's a model in a fancy jeans ad (so adorably funny it was almost pee-inducing, seriously) to giggling over Mr. Desk Neighbor yelling, after a misheard radio ad: "A family whore pack!?!?!?"

I tell ya, no progress has been made.

/sigh

I work with a bunch of five year olds.

And being a six year old myself isn't helping much :)

Hellooooooooooo 2007!

And hello to old readers still sticking around. And to any new readers that find they have some sticky power in them. And to the inventor of 2pm coffee and fake pink sugar and disco for inspiring more dancing from ZackJack.

I've been called worse...

2006-12-29T09:11:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm at work, and I hear there is a tin of cookies in my mailbox.

Sweet sauce!

I usually dislike the trek through the plant to the front offices where my mailbox resides, the front offices being upstairs offices, which means I have to tango-two-step up the stairs where only a thin pane of plastic keeps me from falling to my doom on the plant floor, but doesn't keep everyone from seeing the attempt of course (I have issues with stairs, no?)

But this time? It was all about the cookies!

I put my cookie blinders on and made a very un-bee like beeline to the front of the building (there's a lot of stuff to walk around).

And lo and behold, a tin of cookies! Plus a free calendar from some credit union bank. Merry Belated Christmas to me. Guess I should check my mailbox more often.

Anywhoo, I grab my mail (mainly consisting of Here-Fix-My-Problems) and the Tin-O-Cookies (tm) and start heading back. Only I work in a place where you're not allowed to have food in non-office areas. And this Tin-O-Cookies (tm) was all gussied up in crinkly plastic with a silver curly bow on top. Not easily hidden.

This one time, I was hungry, and bought a tin of tuna and crackers from the vending machine (yes, vending tuna - I'm adventurous!) and had to hide the tin of tuna down my pants, (had it wedged between the tummy rolls and the undies' elasto-band - ingenous!) because putting the tin in my pockets looked like I was caring around a can of tobacco, another no-no here. Actually, it didn't work down the pants, looked like I had a growth on my coochie. I ended up wedging the can of tuna between the boobs and walked through the plant hoping no one noticed the vague impression of a third boob.

This time, the Tin-O-Cookies (tm), which is the same size tin of holiday butter cookies you see in any store, was waaaaaaay too big to fit down my pants or wedge between the boobs. Well, it could fit down the pants, I'd just look like a weird-ass hunch~~back~~front and that would draw too much attention. And it was too poofy to smuggle with the boobs.

So I had to be covert.

So I grabbed two reams of printer paper and wedged the Tin-O-Cookies (tm) between it and my boob and placed the mail on top, as the clear crinkly plastic was poking out in an annoying Look At Me I'm So Pretty And Crinkly fashion.

Covert like a ninja!

I made it back with no one stopping me. Probably could have worn my clothes inside out and had cookies sticking out my nose and no one would have stopped me, but its always good to play it safe.

Ninja style!

So anyways, I get back to my desk with my loot and Mr. Desk Neighbor wants to see what's inside. Cookies, duh, but he wanted to actually see the cookies, because he got a tin too and wants to know if its worth the effort to retrieve them.

So I start to unwrap the Tin-O-Cookies (tm)... Now, I'm not anal about unwrapping paper wrapped gifts. I don't need to make sure the paper doesn't get ripped and is reusuable. I also don't like to make too much of a mess of ripping it to shreds because I'm usually the one picking up the mess afterwards. But this time, with the crinkly plastic and the curly silver ribbon, I wanted to take my time. I already knew what was inside, so I was going to enjoy the process.

Work Procrastination at its finest.

And in the process, it irritated antsy Mr. Desk Neighbor to no end.

MDN: Do you want a pair of scissors?
ME: No.

He stands behind me while I continue to tug on the ribbon tied around the crinkled plastic. It's slow going, tugging it a centimeter at a time. Tough little bastard.

MDN: Do you want a knife?
ME: Nope.

I attack it from a different angle, pulling the crinkly paper out of the silver ribbon's death grip.

MDN: My god, you're dial-up!

I about busted up laughing over that one. One more pull though and I freed the cookies, liberating them in time to get in my bellllllaaaaay.

So now I've got coffee, butter cookies, while the computer plays a CD of Charlie Brown Christmas music my cousin in-law made for me.

~ Heaven ~

Jingly Highlights

2006-12-20T10:21:00.000-08:00

As Co-Worker Jack so kindly pointed out yesterday (before he *cough cough* called in sick a day after I suggested how awesome it would be if we called in sick *cough cough*) I've been depriving him of much blogging loon-y goodness.

'Tis a shame, as I'm sure all can agree.

So, as I sit here at my desk in the office all alone with no one to talk to and no one to hear me sing along with the Let's Only Play Christmas Songs radio station (which I'm so totally in the mood for now) or the I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas web site (which is best sung along with at the top of ones lungs) with a pile of work to do that I'd rather not be doing, I'm gonna type up a little Past Few Weeks Recap.

Hmmm... New Year's Resolution #1 just might be 'stop it with the annoyingly long sentences already!'

Anywhoo... on with the recap!

Went home for thanksgiving. (Sheesh, its been that long since I last posted!) Had much to be thankful for and all that blah blah blah warm mushiness.

Shopping at a mall on Black Thursday (day after turkey day) is fun when you're with family and friends, as long as one of those family members isn't your impatient grandmother who doesn't understand why the lines are so long and who flags down poor frazzled Denny's hostesses and demands coffee even though the friendly frazzled hostess said our friendly frazzled waiter would be there in just a moment with the damn drinks! (That scenario happened the year before, this year was grandma-free!)

Came back and finished the final projects for my two writing workshop classes. Got an A in the one class, have no idea yet what grade I'm getting in the other class. I'm pretty sure I'll get a passing grade, and sadly that's just fine and dandy with me right now.

Still haven't signed up for classes for Winter Quarter. Which... uh... start in less than two weeks. D'oh!

Some same-old-same-old's:
a) work continues to be busy and a major pain in my ass, which wouldn't be much of a problem if I wasn't getting less and less motivated to get it done
b) still addicted to a video game
c) still as broke as a spoke

Drove back up to my parent's house this last weekend for an All Girlfriend Xmas Bash. I <3 hanging out with my old high school girlfriends.

I also love "light bulb kisses".

Teaching a friend's kid a harmless yet potentially annoying bad habit is wrong. But fun.

Also fun? Emailing girlfriends at work about giving laundry elves as Christmas presents instead of doing work.

Well, that pretty much brings me up to today I guess, though I'm sure I'm forgetting something I should have mentioned. Hmmm....

Things to look forward to over the next few days:

Going to the mall with the HB tonight to finish up the Christmas shopping.

Starting a new book I've been dying to read (especially after hearing the HB ooh! and a-hah! like crazy while reading it these past few days),

Getting motivated to do some much needed laundry some time before Saturday.

Driving back up to my parent's house.
[ sarcasm ] Yay for holiday traffic! [ / sarcasm ]

Hanging with the girlfriends and the family again.

Mmmmm.... Is it Friday yet?

Ghosts and Quotes and The Art of Procrastination

2006-11-22T09:18:00.000-08:00

Over at Jodi's site she's wondering if people believe in ghosts. I said that I do. I haven't seen a ghost myself, but I believe in the possibility.

I really enjoy hearing other people's ghost stories. Could they all be making them up? All be completely delusional? It's possible. Maybe. But I doubt it.

I was thinking about it, and I'm pretty sure my belief in ghosts came about after hearing a particular ghost story. I'm not sure how old I was, elementary/junior high-ish I think. I just remember that I was at my best friend's house, and it was either on or right before Halloween. My BBBF's father regaled us all with a story from his youth, of a time long ago when he was working in a... hmmm... I want to say a morgue... but that's not quite right. A mortuary perhaps... Anywhoo... He was really convincing and I totally bought everything he said. I looked up to him, trusted him, so why would he lie? :)

Looking back on it now, I realize he could have been shining us all on. Making up a story to entertain the little kiddies. Either way, I don't want to know the truth. I kind of like believing in the eeriness of that story. It was magical in away. But even if I did learn that it had all been made up I'd still believe in ghosts. I couldn't help it, it's just engrained in me to believe in the possibilities of it all.

Thinking of this as I was (and procrastinating at work very efficiently thank you very much), I was reminded of perhaps my favorite Shakespeare quote:

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Oh how I love that quote.

I wanted to find the exact wording, so I did a search and found my new favorite website, a wiki quote page!

*drool*

Quote of the Day from that site:

"What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?"
- George Eliot

I really enjoyed the books I had to read for my George Eliot class two quarters ago. I wish I had more time to read more of her stuff. Maybe I should take a Victorian literature class so I'll be forced to read them. Hmmm... or maybe not. :)

Here's a quote from Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury:

"Let you alone! That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?"

I loved this book when I read it. It was years ago and I can still remember the rush I got from reading it, the need to finish it without putting it down. I haven't read it since though. I'm kind of curious now to see if I'd enjoy it as much.

Here's a quote from one of my favorite movies, Groundhog Day:

"People like blood sausage, too. People are morons."

Classic! Oh, and another…

"Ned, I would love to stand here and talk with you... but I'm not going to."

I remember the first time I watched this movie. I was home sick, my best friend had come over, and the two of us watched it with my mom. I cracked up like crazy person and my mom and the BBBF were all like, 'what's so funny'. Good times. :)

Here's a quote from the BESTEST CARTOON EVAH!!! Animaniacs:

Ms. Flamiel: Yakko, do you know how to conjugate?
Yakko: Who, me? I never even kissed a girl.

And...

"Citizens of Anvilania, I stand before you, because if I was behind you, you couldn't see me."

heh heh heh.

My brother and I would rush home from school and watch this show together. We'd recite "Good Idea/Bad Idea" sketches to one another all the time, and if someone missed an episode we'd be sure to tell them what the day's Wheel Of Morality's lesson was. And when this cartoon didn't win an emmy, and that stupid Rugrats show did, boy did we shout up a storm together about the injustice of it all. :)

Okay, one last quote. To further our work-day procrastinating, Jack and I have been in a little sci-fi tv show discussion. "Did you ever watch..." "Do you remember that episode where..." "Those bastards canceled that show early didn't they?"

One of my favorite Sci-fi Shows That Was Canceled Way Too Early was Special Unit 2. I tried looking for a SU2 page on the wikiquotes site, but they don't have one. Sigh. Guess its not my favorite new site after all. So anyways, I got this quote from imdb:

"Remember, guns don't kill people, gargoyles do."

Gawd, I loved that show.

Another Chapter In The Ongoing Saga of Me vs. Stairzilla

2006-11-21T16:07:00.000-08:00

Yes folks its that time again for another round of...

Name!

That!

Burning Sensation!

[insert fabulously cheesy game show musical fanfare here]

The palms of both of my hands are stinging something fierce. Is it from...

a) humiliation

b) concrete burn

c) all of the above

If you guessed d) Lisa The Almighty Klutz tripped herself while climbing up stairs at school today! then you are correct. Your prize is in the mail.

Lisa: 0
Stairs: 542

Sigh.

So I'm at school today, and class was canceled, which was good considering that I'd seriously thought about skipping anyway, but bad because we're going to be really behind which means extra homework on a night I'll be busy instead of having the nice four day weekend to do it in.

But anyways, I'm walking back to my car, in between the old gym and the new gym they're building, and my mind is wandering. Can't remember what I was so busy thinking about, but I was completely distracted. Then I started to climb the stairs.

Which are really crap-astically built by the way. It requires very abnormal steps to climb them. Each step is about half the height of a normal stair. And they're far apart, so its either shuffle and take little baby steps or stretch more than normalcy requires and take two at a time. Either way feels weird.

No weirder than I must have looked flying through the air though, nearly doing a face plant on the concrete. Smackers! Luckily my hands were there to brace my fall. And my ego has an air bag which managed to deploy, so not too much damage there. Just a little bruising.

I swear, just a couple of days ago, while walking across my college campus, I was thinking about the time I tripped while walking across my high school campus, in front of the entire student body as we all headed out to the parking lot after school. And I thought to myself, just a couple of days ago, about how totally embarrassing it would be to do it here, at the college campus, where we're all supposed to be grown up and shit. Not awkward and clumsy and retarded and such.

As I tripped, that high school memory flashed through my mind. Thoughts that also flashed through my mind were: "ah crap" and "not again" and "noooooooooooooo!" and "good lord how many of my classmates are behind me". It's fascinating how you can have several thoughts whizzing through your brain simultaneously in a measly little second of time.

I tried to counteract my falling motion but my school bag threw me off (it's the bags fault! haHA!) and I skidded along the concrete. I then jumped up, walked a few steps to prove that yes, I could indeed walk like a normal person, then I "subtlety" turned around to see who all had witnessed my latest humiliation. Luckily only one person. Maybe. They had just exited the building and were going the other way. So maybe they exited after I'd jumped up like nothing had happened. Maybe. And no classmates had walked around the building behind me, thankfully, because most of them are super cool writer people and I'm quite goober-ish and come to think of it now, that might in fact be what had distracted me so, because I was thinking about their coolness as I left them all grouped together, being cool and hanging out together while they decided how to spend their free hour and a half.

Anyways, as the sigh of relief washed over me once I realized I wouldn't have nightmares of the faces of people trying to pretend they didn't see me fall, I realized my hands stung. Ouchies. The damn stairs even drew blood!

The bastards!

And then, to top it off, I get back to my car that I'd left in the hour parking slot (because it was hot and I figured I'd splurge on paying for a closer spot) and saw a frelling parking ticket on my windshield! Turns out I'd punched in slot number 9 when paying for my parking ticket instead of number 6, so even though I paid for two hours and was only there for a half hour, I've been fined 25 bucks.

I felt like such a moron when I figured out what was wrong, especially because I'd double checked to make sure it was a 9 and not a 6. I looked at the cars to the right of mine, and the spots said 8 and 7, and I must have been temporarily dyslexic because I thought to myself "7 and 8 so 9 is mine."

Grrrrrrr.

I'm so ready for this day to be over.

People/Things That Need To Be Slapped

2006-11-20T07:57:00.000-08:00

People that like to listen to Christmas music before Thanksgiving...

*slap*

The radio station that started playing nothing but frelling Christmas music last week...

*slap*

Idiot drivers...

*slap*

People that can dish out crap but can't quite take it...

*slap*

People that make plans only to get sidetracked...

*slap*

Mother "Ha Ha Let's Make You Sweat In November!" Nature...

*slap*

Psychics guest staring on radio stations giving happy cheesy generic advice...

*slap*

Mondays...

*slap*

My ass...

*slap*

(heh heh heh)

Disclaimer: This list is in no way complete. You may be on this list. You may not be. Be weary. Don't be a dumbass. And let it get cold already! Sheesh.

An Open Letter To This Morning's Jerkwad Driver

2006-11-16T07:19:00.000-08:00

Dear Impatient Asshole With The Big Ass Truck,

It seems that you were in a bit of a hurry this morning! Boy, isn't that just the pits?!

Please except my sincerest apologies for moving into your lane several car lengths in front of your speedy little ass. When I merged onto the freeway I was in the next exit's off ramp lane and, silly me, I really didn't want to get off at the next exit!

Weird, huh?

And oh, can you ever forgive me for not speeding up to match your speed? I totally would have, really, if it hadn't been for the fucking line of cars right in front of me!

Silly drivers, driving slow in the slow lane! Pffffffffffft!

Seriously, did you think the cars in front of you were going to magically pick up speed? That would have been awesome!

You know, I bet those other four lanes of the freeway must have been really smelly, because they were completely open. That must be why you continued speeding along in your lane until you were so close I couldn't even see your headlights anymore.

That's an amazing feat by the way, considering your over-compensating truck was really high above the ground. So thanks for being so thoughtful! I really do hate it when headlights blind me from behind.

I hope the rest of you drive was just as peachy as mine. I'm figuring you had a long ways to go since you didn't get off at the next exit with the rest of us slow-lane drivers.

Anywhoooo, thanks for starting my day off right ya big prick!

Sincerely,
Loony
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

My Photonic Personality Absolutely Radiates

2006-11-15T08:57:00.000-08:00

Mr. Desk Neighbor sits across from me, facing me, at a desk that's pushed up against mine. Kind of like the desks you see in tv-show police departments - you know, where partners vs. crime work together and have their desks pushed up against each other, the better to communicate with I guess - only with our desks, there's a mini cubicle wall set up in between. More push-pin surface room for hanging miscellaneous Dilbert cartoons I guess, so I don't mind it.

Mr. Desk Neighbor, on the other hand, minds that the mini-wall only extends from the wall to halfway across the length of our desks. To remedy this, when we first moved back here a couple of months ago, in an act of comic inspiration (desperation?) he taped/glued/wedged/erected a piece of cardboard to fill the remaining space. He calls it his "photon-shield".

Hey, whatever floats his boat I say. Makes it more challenging to lob over wads of paper/trash/empty coffee cups.

Some days he's quite jovial. Other days he's down right cranky. And when his hormonal cycle sways into mine it's a mess of fireworks in here. Fun times!

Now me? I'm as peachy as a tabby cat today. Mr. Desk Neighbor, on the other hand, is getting biotch slapped around a bit.

Poor Mr. Desk Neighbor.

I might not be helping much as I sing badly along with the radio, but hey, everyone has to play to their strengths, no?

A few minutes ago, Mr. Desk Neighbor walks up to his desk, reaches into his secret stash of random crap in the overhead storage cabinet, and grabs a bottle of advil.

He turns to me and holds the bottle up like he's practicing for a commercial ad.

"These are to make you go away," he says.

"Notice how the bottle is mostly empty?" he says, giving the bottle a little shake.

Then he cries in mock anguish, "You're still here!"

Is it wrong that that made my day?

Well, it did, until a few minutes later when Mr. Desk Neighbor calls up our lab department. When they answer (both are on speakerphone, mind you) he screams "Where's my crack?!" Ah, that never gets old, no matter how many million time he says it.

[Insert eye roll here]

There's more discussion, most of which I tune out. Then someone on the other end asks if Mr. Desk Neighbor wants to talk to Richard.

To which Mr. Desk Neighbor replies, "No, I don't like Dick!"

I nearly snorted donut sprinkles out my nose.

Damn those squirrels are happy little suckers.

2006-11-14T07:52:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting at my desk, wanting to write something, and I got nothing. Nothing interesting happening in the World of Lisa. Lots of mundane stuff, but nothing interesting per say. I mean, I find it interesting, but then I'm easily amused.

It's both a blessing and a curse, really, depending on whether you want to use your super power for good or eeeeeevil.

This here, this typing words and making sentences that just sort of ramble on and on? Spectacularly amusing! Don't need no fancy toys to keep me entertained, no sir-e-bob! Give me a wooden spoon and pots and pans and I'll rock this joint, boy-eeeeee!

And no, I really did get a decent amount of sleep last night. Thanks for asking.

Since I don't have anything recent to write about, I'm gonna post what I'd started to write a couple weeks ago about a very adventurous day, with a bit of revision, plus its now complete with an ending!

And the squirrels rejoiced across the lands.

It's a bit lengthy and quite possibly unreadable, but I want to preserve it for posterity, because I just don't have the photographic evidence to suffice, for that one day in the future when life is super sucking, so I can look back and say, hey, if only my days were only that bad.

~ ~ ~

A couple Thursday's ago I experienced a rather suck-tacular day. At least it started out that way. The day definitely tried to redeem itself.

Woke up way too early, found out I had a flat tire a block from the apartment, called in car-sick to work, and ended up missing an important meeting I really needed to get out of the way. Actually, we still haven't had that meeting, and I'm going to get grief from one of my supervisors soon. Oy.

And when I tried to get back into the gated apartment complex my clicker didn't work. It's worked marvelously for years and decided to die on me the one morning I'm already freaking out. I felt the world was conspiring against me at that point. I woke the poor HB up and asked me to come open the gate for me. Poor guy. His alarm wasn't scheduled to wake him up until 7. :)

But anyways, since I was going into work at 6, and the tire repair shops don't open until after 8, I got to watch the night before's tivo-ed Veronica Mars and Gilmore Girls. Bonus round!

Thankfully, my tire was fixed with little charge (Woot!) in time for me to still go to school (double Woot!).

On a quick side note, guess where I found the perfect husband for me... well, in name only. At the tire store! Guess what his name tag said... guess guess guess! Mr. Looney! Swear to gawd. If we married I'd be Lisa Looney!!! That would be awesome.

Anywhoo, the fun didn't stop at the tire store with Mr. Looney (*tee hee*). I hopped in my car and rushed to school. I decided to pay for hour parking instead of parking way out in BFE with my expensive parking permit. It was going to cost $4 for two hours, but I figured I'd earned myself a treat. So I park and pull out the wallet and... no money. Only a wrinkled dollar bill and a few coins. I checked the change tray in the car... score! Quarters!

So I grab all the change and run to the ticket spitter-outer thingy. But as I'm standing in line, waiting my turn, I count the change again for the millionth time, just to be sure, and the change I counted in the car that came out to 4 bucks was no longer counting up to 4 bucks. Son of a ...

I asked the people around me if they had a nickel. That's all I needed. One friggin nickel! I felt like the biggest dolt, but I asked anyway. Most people ignored me like my head was one big pimple. One girl said she had the change in her car and would get it for me after she got her ticket. I moved to the back of the line and when she was done she gave me a whole quarter, god bless her.

So its my turn, again, and I put my money in the machine. And you know what? I was still several cents short!!!!!

Apparently my math skills are seriously lacking when I'm anxious and in a hurry. I did really well in math in school. Honest! But that day, I was math impaired to the nth degree.

I ended up paying for hour parking, ran to class, got all the important stuff I needed, and made it back an hour and a half later before any one gave me a ticket. Ahhhhhh.

After that, I was soooooo ready to miss the rest of the work day, and figured I might as well get my headlights fixed. For a couple weeks prior, whenever I used my turn signal my headlights would turn off. Driving down the busy freeway late at night when poof goes the headlights? That's some scary shit right there, let me tell you! I'd been putting off getting it fixed because I didn't want to take a day off of work, so I'd been driving around with no turn signals. (Yeah, I was one of those people.) So luckily my tire flatted out and I had the chance to fix my headlights.

Blog Post Word Count: 937
NaNoWriMo Word Count To Date: 0

(Think I might have to steal this post and turn it into a story so I can use the word count. Hmmm....)

Jackfoolery

2006-11-08T09:12:00.000-08:00

Last Friday, during the Weekly Meeting of Awesome Lameness and Repetitive Bullshit (tm), my dear friend Coworker Jack informed me that I hadn't posted in awhile.

He was right, as he so often is. ( =P )

And let me tell you something, the poor man was distraught. Oh, the pain I saw in his eyes! He was clearly in agony over his loonyville withdrawls. Poor fella. So after the meeting, after being infused with an overpowering sense of purpose and dedication in surging forward in our ever pressing march towards business excellence, I rushed back to my computer. To blog. Because oh yeah, I felt so business-ing-ly excellent.

I opened up my little word document and started to write about my day. Only I had nothing. Because my day so far had been rather boring. I was going to make something up, something fantastical with talking squirrels with French accents and flowers that spit out skittle flavored gumdrops, but I had nothing. The creative brain was tapped. And the new Brain Keg (tm) was still on backorder.

Sigh.

Which was a problem over the weekend since the second draft of my story for workshop was due on Tuesday, and unlike some of my classmates, it was looking like I was going to have to rewrite almost the entire damn story. Draft One sucked the big one. A classmate actually wrote that into his story; that a character, to "protect the names of the innocent", was to be henceforth referred to as Deep Throat because... well for some reason which I can't quite remember now, plus the other reason, (a parenthetical afterthought reason) which was that she "sucked the big one". And yes, I think he might have gotten a better score than me.

Sigh.

I had a problem writing the first draft of my short story because I had NO FRIGGIN CLUE what to write about. This led me to turning in a story that had absolutely no point to it. Which kind of sucks for my classmates that had to read it. Actually, it seemed to be a class-wide theme: stories with no plot/theme/point. So for the revision, I needed to give my characters purpose. They needed goals! So hey, at least I knew what needed to be fixed, right? If only it was that easy. Because I had NO FRIGGIN CLUE how to fix it. All the ideas I came up with were boring, very tired ideas. My creative juices were jammed up. On an extended vacation in LaLa Land. I couldn't think of anything I wanted to write about, which I'm sure translated into what I finally came up with. Blahness. But at least the blahness had a goal!

I took Monday off, thinking I'd give myself some buffer room to finish the story, make it all polished up and shiny. Only problem is, my muse took this as a sign to procrastinate until the very last damn minute. An extra day? Wheeee! Let's watch a True Life marathon on MTV! (Damn is that show addictive sometimes.)

That's how she usually works, the Muse, and it stresses me the hell out. I didn't go to bed until 1am Monday night/Tuesday morning. And since I was focused on editing my story, my brain was so wired I didn't fall asleep until after 2am. I'm surprised I even woke up when the alarm blasted at 5am.

But it was finished! And turned in! And now, after its critiqued on Thursday, I can forget about it I have to edit it for finals.

And the crazy thing is, I think I'm still going to try and do nanowrimo. Now that I don't have to worry and fret and perform Frankenstein feats of brilliance over my class assignment, I have time to write silly nonsense. Yay for silly nonsense! Maybe the muse will come back for that.

See, this is why I haven't blogged in awhile. I can never keep it short. Once I get to writing I just whine and whine and whine and can't stop myself and next thing I know people at work are wondering why I haven't done anything yet. Maybe I need to start posting short random bits.

Oh, you are not able to control your feelings!

2006-10-18T08:48:00.000-07:00

Let's see, last time I updated was... the 4th. And today is the... holy crap! How did it get to be the 18th already!!!???

That seems to be happening to me a lot lately. Chunks of days at a time seem to be disappearing. I'm sure I'm experiencing them, just in a time warp-y surreal sort of way.

Right now, I should be spending what free time I shouldn't be spending at work on homework. I have a major story due Thursday, and its still not finished. *cry* It needs to be 3,500-5,000 words long and I've only got a little over 2,000 words written. And as of yet, there is no point to my story. Which is a problem, because who wants to read a story that at the end it makes you say "okay, and what the hell was the point of all that? I just wasted ten minutes of my life!" It's just a bunch of scenes with no real ending. Any ending I can think of feels too after-school-special sappy. Which I don't do well. Sigh. But at least I've come to terms with the fact that its going to suck, so now I can concentrate on just finishing the damn thing so I have something to turn in. On Thursday. Eek!

But anyways, instead of doing what I should be doing (catching up on paper work or finishing some homework) I'm going to write this as a warm up. Yeah, like finger stretches. Don't want to cramp up while writing The Greatest Story Ever Written.

So here's a list of things I would have written about in the last two weeks had the days not skipped by. Damn you Time Bandit!

1. I'm taking two classes this quarter. Both are writing classes. One is a continuation workshop writing class. We read stories, do writing exercises, learn how to tell great stories, then write our own story, bring copies for everyone so everyone can tell us what's working and what is so totally not working. I've enjoyed the first two workshops. Hopefully this one is just as fun. And educational. Second class is a screenwriting class. So far, so good. The teacher is a ball of energy, and very entertaining. Which makes the 4-7pm class tolerable. :) And at the end of the quarter I shall have the first 17 minutes of a movie written! Wheee!

2. I signed up for myspace a couple of months ago, mainly so no one else could use the loon name. Heh. I find the site incredibly annoying at times (plus it tries to give my home computer a virus every time I visit!) so I don't go there often. I went there the other day though, figuring I'd check out the spam friend invites and such, and see if a friend (all two of them!) had any updates. There was an invite from a porn fiesta page (bah!) and a couple invites from old high school buddies (yay!) and then one from some guy named Moe. His picture consisted of my high school's three initials and the year I graduated. And I'm thinking to myself, "Do I know a Moe? Is he a friend from high school? How bad is it that I don't remember having a friend named Moe!?!?" So I click on the name to check him out and about slapped myself silly when I saw that it was a page for our 10 year reunion, full of year book pictures of all the pretty popular people. Duh! Moe was our mascot! How could I forget that? So yeah. 10 year reunion next year. Eek!

3. I've signed up to do NaNoWriMo again this year. Will I have time for work and school and NaNo? Probably not. But I can't help but try. And luckily, my major story for school will be all written and such before November, so I won't have that competing for my time.

4. Mini buttermilk donuts are perhaps my most favoritest donuts in the whole wide world. If I ever write one of those "100 things about me" I've got to remember to put that on the list. Today is Donut Wednesday again, and I'm trying really hard not to go back for a second one.

Must. Resist. The. Devil. Donut.

Must.

Be.

Strong.

5. Got a great piece of literature in my work's email inbox. First work spam ever! Loved the spam's subject heading, so I'm using it for today's blog title. The email had something to do with "the most common issue men face", though I couldn't quite figure out what it was refering to. I can infer what it was refering to, but I'm not positive. Because the email said to "forget about rubber, drinking, hypnosis..." and I'm not sure how rubber works into the whole "lasting longer" business. How does rubber work? Do you eat it? Wear it? Rub it all over your body? And drinking? Is that drinking heavily? That makes you boys stallions? Or is it all about drinking energy drinks? Are there people standing behind a line with little paper cups full of water in their outstretched hands so you can periodically replenish the necessary electrolites or whatnot so your legs don't cramp up? Is that the "drinking" the email is refering too?

Seriously. I'm highly intrigued.

6. Last Thursday was a suck-tacular day. Actually, that day deserves a post all its own. That, and it's time to get back to work. :(

D'oh-nuts

2006-10-04T10:57:00.000-07:00

I'm currently working on Donut Number Three.

I love donuts but... well... apparently there's a limit to my love. And that limits name is Three.

I think Donut Number Three will be my downfall.

I can feel my body going into sugar overload.

Oh, the joy!

The rapture!

The dizzying confusion of sugarcomaitis!

Cup Of Coffee Number Three is not doing enough to counteract the intense scrambling of sugar molecules through my veins.

Bleagh.

I'd rather be eating one of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I'd made this morning.

The peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that are currently sitting in a lunch tote on a kitchen counter in my apartment.

In the apartment I won't be going back to until 8pm tonight because I have class for three hours right after work.

Which is why I'd so thoughtfully made them in the friggin first place!

D'oh!

So there's nothing but donuts to sustain me until 8 tonight.

/cry

Well, come to think of it, I do have a baby handful of stale pretzels in my desk here. That'll have to be my Rush-To-Class snack I guess.

This is only the second day of waking up early for my new work/school schedule and already I'm losing it. Stay tuned for all the deranged developments!

Do phone sex operators have Employee of The Month awards?

2006-10-04T08:30:00.000-07:00

Do they?

Just wondering.

Not for, you know, any particular reason.

Just curious.

A co-worker was pacing about, pissed that he was wasting so much time as the meeting he's trying to finish keeps getting interrupted, and I told him to chill, because isn't being in my presence rewarding enough?

Which led to the conversation topic he brings up often, about how much he loves my phone voice. He's not the first co-worker to mention it, but he is the one that feels the need to mention it more than once. He says semi-inappropriate things about it, like hinting that I could work in the Reach Out And Touch Someone (And Yourself) Phone Sex Business (my words, not his, he's not quite so... specific about it. Heh.).

So he's pacing, I'm pretending to be offended that my presence isn't uplifting enough, and he says that he'd rather hear me over the phone.

I knew what he meant, but my brain still leapt at the implication it found dancing about. Sheesh, am I that hideous to look at that you'd rather hear me than see me?

A: Not that hideous.

So we're talking about how sexy my phone voice is (which is only sexy when I'm talking in my I-Hope-No-One-Overhears-Me low voice, otherwise I sound like a 14 yr old, which dear god I hope is not the voice he's talking about, pretty sure its not...) and he's talking about how much he enjoys it, the voice, which I really don't want to know, because I don't want to be flattered by it (seeing as how we're at work, otherwise, bring it on!) and I really don't want to know exactly how he enjoys it because that's best between a man and his pants, particularly a co-worker man. And I tell him as much, that he can keep that enjoyment to himself, please.

But he continues, and says something about how I'd be top employee. I'd be Employee of the Month material! Which made me laugh. And then wonder... what kind of incentive programs do phone sex operator businesses have? Are there yearly bonuses? Summer retreats? Because that would be awesome.

EMPLOYER:

Congratulations Lisa! You have a high approval rating with the highest percentage of return callers! Requests for you are shooting through the roof! You're making us a butt load of money! So you've won this month's prestige Employee of the Month Award! Here's a twenty dollar gift certificate to Burger King!

ME:

*glee*

Not that I'm looking for a career change or anything. I wouldn't last five seconds in that job before busting out in a fit of giggles.

If I was a Super Evil Genius my arch nemesis would be Captain Stairs

2006-10-02T08:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm walking in to work today, sauntering towards the back door, when a guy gets there before me. He opens it and stands aside, motioning me to go first. Which was nice, sure, but I was still several sauntering footsteps away.

Now, normally, I like to Sunday stroll it into work, and not rush into the chaos. But I speed up, because if he's going to be nice, I might as well be nice too and not make him wait forever.

Yet for some reason, I can't let it just go at that. Nooooo. I have to make it seem like there's some other reason I just suddenly doubled my pace. Not because of you Mr. Nice Door Holder Opener Man, noooooo. I'm in a hurry to get to work!

So in my hurry I decided to trot up the five little stairs leading to the time clock, instead of climbing them at a leisurely pace like I know I should. Nope, I have to be that person who can casually skip up stairs.

But of course I'm not that person.

And I trip.

D'oh!

Not a big trip, thankfully, as there was no Kissing Of The Cement Floor action happening. I just stumbled a bit. Twice. In front of Mr. Nice Door Holder Opener Man.

Gawd! Why do I have to be so uncoordinated??