The fruit worries the approving bread under the pride.

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

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

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!

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.

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

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

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.