Friday, June 25, 2010

An Outburst a Day Keeps the Medical Plan Away

Definitely one of those days.
You know, the days where your boss asks you to lie to people and rip them off and you try to vent to your boyfriend about it before finally getting up the guts to tell your boss that you are not willing to besmirch your integrity for a measly $15 an hour, but you say it much nicer because you still don't want to be unemployed, even if your job IS a load of hot crap.
It's the type of day when you think you are venting to your boyfriend, but you're stupidly using the office's Outlook mail, and you respond to the wrong email and in effect tell your boss how much of a jack-off you think he is, and you whine a bit about how much your back hurts.  And then your boss calls you in for "a word" and asks what the deal is and you're all, "I have a problem basically stealing from people.  What?"  And he's all, "You're a total dick swipe.  Clearly, you don't understand how the system works."  And you come back with, "I understand that if you accept work from a person, you're supposed to pay them for it.  And I understand that if there were more people doing what you're trying to do, my dad wouldn't have been able to provide food for us."

And then you spend the rest of the day barely suppressing the urge to yell, "AM I FIRED, OR WHAT??" Because you kind of sort of need that $15 an hour and you try to remind yourself of your tendency to over-react just a bit.  So instead, you blog about shitty jobs and shitty pay and how you're obviously the only semi-lucent person in an office filled with barely-mobile cesspool humanoids.  And you spend the rest of your time trying to stop your heart from racing and hoping that if they don't fire you, you will still somehow avoid becoming a cesspool like them.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Absolut Fetid

OH MY DEAR GAH...I now have 2 followers, and one of them is one of my absolute favorite bloggers.  I only discovered him yesterday while I was "working," but the piece I read is already a classic.  It's like one of those TNT New Classics, only without the ad breaks.  You'll re-visit it a million times, be able to recite it at a whim, and never grow tired of it.
May I present you with: Mr. London Street's take on the end of a relationship.

I would typically use that as a segway into some post on the last time I felt the same thing about some relationship corpse I still have tucked away in my brain folds, but there is a 9 inch tall stink demon currently rooting through my purse that I feel the need to acknowledge instead.

Said stink demon's name is Toby.  He is a year old American Bulldog with an apparent penchant for sniffing out the dankest dungeoniest food he can fit his gigantic mouth around, and for growing balls the size of my fists put together.  He is the faithful companion of my cow-orker (yes, I meant to spell it that way), but you would have no idea the two of them are a pair since it is MY purse he's fascinated with, MY papers he has disheveled, and MY legs he has covered in mephitic farts.
Were I one of the other cow-orkers, I'd be angry, vindictive, even.  But he slurps my entire left side, and I am smitten.  Mr. Toby could teach Mr. Watson a thing or two about making a woman swoon.
Whether I'm swooning from those sweet, brown eyes hidden away among the folds, or from noxious fumes emanating out of his may never know.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

In Which I List Your Qualities

We've lived together over a year now, and it hasn't always been easy (like that time we broke up because you didn't want to spend 8 katrillion dollars on a comforter), but I like to think it has all been worth it.
In place of a birthday card, which I can't believe I forgot to get for you, I will give you, instead, a list.
What I've learned about you, who you are, what you do, what makes you tick.

1. You claim to hate it, but *if* The Bachelorette is on, and *if* you are sitting beside me, you more than participate in your fair share of yelling at the tv. I mean, my gawd, what is WRONG with that Kasey guy?

2. You hate Comic Sans. I mean, you really hate it. You would willingly tie it up to your car's back bumper, and do figure 8's around a sandy parking lot mid-day, in the dead of summer. Watch out, Papyrus, he's not too fond of you, either.

3. You definitely (don't even deny it) think lesbians are somehow smarter than the rest of us.

4. You will do just about anything for a laugh....or for an Apple product.

5. My gawd, do you love the smell of pizza places.

6. You talk to and about Watson more than I think you realize. I love how much you have bonded with him. It's always good to see a man and his dog together. Also, what isn't hilarious about when you pick up his back legs and pretend he's some kind of sub-machine gun?

7. You take Aikido very seriously, and I wonder if they know how much you practice. Your 1st kyu is going to be inspiring to watch.

8. You are one of the rare men that is willing to embarrass himself on a dance floor, just to make me happy.

9. You kind of sort of like the cat. Don't even play, you know it's true!

10. You are a loyal friend. I've never heard you tear anyone down. Instead, you love how each friendship makes you a better person.

11. You get misty-eyed when you talk about your brother, Mark, Ian, and Russ.

12. You are such a genuine pleasure. You are worth every broken dish, every crushed toe...everything.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Why People Aren't Allowed to Touch Me

Things that make my skin shrivel:

1. snooty comic book store clerks. Because obviously you are the only person that has ever read comics. ever. That's why there's this store. Just for you, and your vast knowledge. Jerk-off.

2. Bad manners. I've said it before and I'll say it again: If you are over the age of 10 and you still can't wrap your mind around saying please and thank you, then you are just not worth my time. At least phrase your demands as questions, and maybe I'll consider not spilling my water on your sandwich. oops.

3. When I wish you a happy this or a merry that, just friggin say thank you. Don't sigh and commence to put me through a battery of loyalty tests to see how much merriment I really wish you. Because when you're all done, my wishes will be much reduced.

4. Hold the door! If I'm right behind you, at least tap it open with your foot. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize the queen was in town. You uppity b*tch.

5. Don't claim that just because you're so many years old, you can't change. That's bullshit. You can change. you can turn off the faucet when you brush your teeth. You can demonstrate some civility. At least start by demonstrating some honesty and confess that you just don't want to change.

6. STOP WITH ALL THE NOSE-PICKING!  I know I joke about it from time to time, but I left that behind me in grade school, and so should you!  If I see one more person jabbing a pointer up there on my commute, I will hit you with my car.  And then the inspection!  Do you honestly think you're going to come up with gold?  A tissue, at least, is more hygienic.

7.  Shake like a man.  Enough of the dead fish or the limp wrist.  When did the country go all sissy on me?  I remember being told before interviews to always give a good, firm shake, as a demonstration that I am someone to be taken seriously.  How do you wish to be regarded, Mr. Limp Fish?

8. No more cat calls.  Unless your intention really was to make me feel like a slut just for dropping off my FedEx packages.  If so, then job well done, you piece of shit.

Sorry for that, everyone.  Tuesday has assaulted me, and I in turn have assaulted you.  Maybe I should have said please first.

At least today will end in pizza and celebrations, and likely take a major turn for the awesome.

Lazy Brain Loves Zerona

I got this email from a Dr. Kang, and of course thought....well, gee...I could come up with $2000, if I could look like that in 2 weeks.  Given my overweight-itude, and my persistent love and acceptance of food, any scam involving no work and fat loss is particularly appealing to me.  Clearly, Dr. Kang is privy to the inner-workings of my lazy-brain.

Then, I took a 2nd look at the picture and it became all too clear to me:  Zerona has made this woman insane.  They have obviously photo-shopped out all the white-coats running after her.

What is she doing?  Other than ruining some families perfectly nice day at the beach.  Now Jr is going to have some weird fetish for crazy women dressed in white.

Thanks a lot, Zerona.  You've ruined Jr's life.

Monday, June 21, 2010

A Vignette

"Why can't I lose weight?" she pondered glumly, as she wrote a cupcake recipe on the back of her exercise routine.