Saturday, April 28, 2012

Is This Seriously My Life??

  Like, REALLY?  I don't even know how many times a week I ask myself that but the answer is always a slightly downtrodden, "Yup".  Not that I dislike it.  It's just not what I expected.  The same cubicle day after day.  The same faces with the same smart ass comments coming out of those faces.  An office is a funny place.  A bunch of random people that would probably otherwise never meet and we end up spending more time together than with our own families.

So it's no surprise really, that some of these people end up feeling like family to me.  And by family I mean that wretched most annoying younger brother you never had or wanted.  Or a couple of older brothers you'd love to pummel.  I have one older brother already and he's more than enough.  Nonetheless, until they finally fire me, I'm stuck with them.

To their credit, they have, over the last four years, taught me how to hone one exceedingly valuable virtue. 

Vengeance.  And this particular ginger is chock full of it.

For instance, if you spit your gum onto my computer monitor, I will spit my water onto your crotch.

If you insist on leaving the pungent smelling nacho tray leftover from our team meeting on my filing cabinet, despite the fact that I screeched at you not to, then put it there AGAIN after I moved it, you will end up with coat pockets filled with nachos. 

If you continually make snide comments asking what the hell did I do to the ceiling tile above my desk because that's just plain disgusting and you should really do something about that, honestly!  I will wait until you're out of town on the other side of the country at our yearly conference.   I will enlist the help of my trusty Candito (super secret spy name for Candice) and I will do something about it.


 I will wear my 4 inch wedge sandals, stand on my desk and balance on the raised edge for that last extra couple of inches, and I will remove the offending ceiling tile.

Candito will then stand on a chair that has been strategically placed on your desk...


 And replace one of your pristine, white, untarnished ceiling tiles with my water/urine/corpse juice stained tile.

Upon your return to the office, you'll rue the day you were born shorter than me in a pair of 4" wedge sandals!!  RUE!

Also, if you insist on coming into my cubicle space day after day, with the sole purpose of eating your crumbly food just to watch it fall all over my desk and floor, or to belittle me while calling me names, or to just be obnoxious in general, I reserve the right to take aim at your testicles and nail you with one of my stress balls.  And then take a picture of it.

Case in point:

Toph strolls into my cubie like he owns the joint.  He doesn't.  His Dad does.  But HE doesn't.

He's peeling an orange and tosses the peel onto my desk.

I call him a bad name.

He looks at me thoughtfully, pondering for a second and says, "If you were a  comedian you'd be Kathy Griffith.  Because you have red hair and you're not funny".
 
I opened my desk drawer, selected a stress ball and hammered him right where it counts.  As he slowly sunk to the ground with tears of regret and bewilderment in his eyes, he muttered in a barely audible whisper, "You did it".




I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!



Sunday, April 1, 2012

An April Fool's Repost. Because It Still Makes Me Smirk...but mostly cause I'm lazy.




Tis the season for procreating. Apparently. What is it about this time of year that gets everyone all crazy and knocked up? Within the last month alone, four individuals I know have presented the world with the screaming, pooping, vomiting, snotting little parasites their bodies have been host to for the last 9 months. Another two have announced their conception. Is it just me, or does this seem excessive? Maybe I’m just jealous. Or maybe it’s my typical shite attitude rearing it’s baby-free head. It’s before noon on a Friday, so really, it’s hard to say.



Regardless, this whole babypalooza thing got me thinking back to my day of baby reckoning.

I had been with my boyfriend at the time for about 8 months. It was after work and we were both at his place. I surreptitiously slunk off to use his bathroom with my purse in hand. I stayed sequestered for a good 5 minutes even though the directions only say 2. There were two very obvious pink lines on that little pee stick of doom.





I was half giddy and half nauseated wondering how he was going to take the news. I pull open the bathroom door and bellow for him. “Shugs! I really need to talk to you. Can you come in here?”



He ambles in and I hand him the stick.

“What’s this?”

I don’t answer. I just look at him and blink. Twice. For good measure.



He looks at the stick. He picks up the box it came in that’s still on the sink.

He looks at the box.

He looks at the stick.

He looks at the box.

He looks at me.



“How did this happen?”

I don’t answer. I just look at him and blink. Once.



“Um. Okay. Okay, uhhh. Um. Okay.”

He then wraps his arms around me and holds me while continuing to stutter.



I suggest we sit down.

He grabs my hand and leads me to the bed where we both lay down and stare at the cracks in the ceiling.



Shugs: “What do you think we should do?”

Me: “Well, you know how I feel about abortion.”

Shugs: “Would you want to keep it? Is adoption even a possibility?”

Me: “Umm…I’m not sure.”



At this point I can’t help but be disappointed in the loving, mature way he’s handling this. Definitely not the shit show I was bracing myself for. I look over at him and notice he’s a slightly alarming shade of gray. *sigh* Ah well. Enough is enough.



“Shugs. It was probably a mistake not being more careful but you know, your even lamer mistake was in failing to remember that today is April Fools. I had my pregnant coworker pee on it.




To this day he has yet to see the humor.

To this day it still makes me giggle.