Wednesday, April 27, 2011

it's the most wonderful time of the year!

...and by "wonderful", I mean soul-sucking.

Yes, today is Administrative Professionals Day, which I am forced to celebrate every year. It sounds like it would be fun, right? Like we'd get presents and food and candy and praise and paid time off?


Well, I mean we DID get presents once, in the form of a pen and a bookmark that said "If you pray for rain, be prepared for some mud!" First of all, we work in an office and have unlimited access to the supply closet, so we don't need a fuckin' pen unless it's some fancy Cross pen that I can hock for a few bucks; second, fuck that disturbingly gloom 'n' doomy bookmark. I can buy my own goddamn bookmarks, thank you.

Oh, and we DID get a whopping hour of paid time off once, but they stopped doing that last year. Because God forbid we enjoy ourselves outside the confines of our sterile cube farm! Shit, what would the claim reps do if we weren't here to wipe their little bottoms for them? There's one guy here who always, always, ALWAYS comes over and takes envelopes off our desks. One time, I was no longer able to contain myself, and I said, "Oh, aren't there any more envelopes in the supply room?"

You know what he said?

"It's too far to walk."

Hey, douche canoe, it's right across from the break room and in the near vicinity of the bathrooms. I'm pretty goddamn fucking sure you pass the supply room at least four times a day, unless you've got disposable didies on under your cheap polyester pants. And if you genuinely think it's too far to walk, which it most certainly isn't, why wouldn't it be too far for US to walk?

Keep. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. My. Shit. You. ASSCLOWN.

Where was I? I got distracted by my bitching.

Oh yeah, I was bitching.

Anyway, today's "celebration" began promptly at 9:30AM, which is when my shift starts. I had literally just gotten to my desk when L, the nice but excruciatingly stupid receptionist, said "Oh, come on, C, it's time for our special day!"

I'm sorry, can I have one moment to get my notoriously creaky system up and put my lunch away? Apparently not. So I quickly tossed my purse in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet, put my lunch in the fridge, and went into the break room.

Now, there's a mediocre bakery/deli nearby whose owner must have plied pornworthy oral skills on our company's CEO, because we use them for every single function. This one was no exception. I grabbed a plate and took a blueberry bagel and a napkin. I didn't see any drinks, which was odd, but I shrugged and sullenly took a seat. My work wife J, who hates these functions even more than I do, is out of town for a funeral, so I didn't even have her to commiserate with.

After everyone had been seated, which took forever because these bitches can load up a plate, Boss #1 said a few words. The usual trite bullshit about how we are the backbone of the company, don't know what she'd do without us, loves us all blah blah blah zzzzzzzzz.

Then Boss #2 got up, said the same shit in slightly different words, and added, "I have a very special treat for you!"




Her 5-year-old daughter S, clad in a Disney Princess dress, and her 8-year-old son A walked into the room. Everybody oohed and aahed and clapped and I wanted to explode into a shower of flesh confetti. Boss #2 said, "They just had to come in and wish their honorary aunties a very happy day!" Then she crouched down, said a few words, and A passed out paper cups while S began roaming the room with a pitcher of orange juice.

"I'm a princess waitress!" she screamed. (Okay, that was cute; I'm not entirely made of stone. Just my heart.) She skipped around the room filling glasses, and then she got to my table.

"Oh, no thank you," I chirped. Insistent, she grabbed my cup and began pouring. I held my breath as she poured until the juice was juuuuuust a fraction below the edge of the cup, and exhaled as she finished without incident. Then she moved on to the woman next to me, and managed to take out four cups (including mine) at a time with an ill-placed elbow. I pushed my chair back as the Orange Sea poured down over the edges of the table. Thanks to my catlike reflexes, honed by years of Dead Rising and Resident Evil, I was able to avoid a lap full of sticky juice; my tablemates were not so lucky.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" S bawled, racing for her mother. Boss #1 went to get wet paper towels, while Boss #2 comforted her daughter. A stood there asking, over and over, "Mom, should I keep passing out cups? Mom? Should I give them more cups? Mom?"

A cluster of "aunties" descended upon the wailing tyke, murmuring and patting and cooing, and I took this opportunity to make my escape.

Next year, I'm calling in sick.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

when the cat's away...

...the mouse will self-medicate with alcohol, ice cream, and a potboiler.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to stand in the corner, where I will use my sticky spoon as a makeshift microphone for my tremulous rendition of "All By Myself".

Don't wanna be...


...alllll byyyyyyyyy myyyyyyyseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllf anymore...

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

fall out 'cause that's the business

A pipin' hot survey, fresh off the griddle!


~Morrissey, Halloween 1991, San Jose (or San Francisco, can't remember which). College road trip!
~Gene, First Avenue, Minneapolis, with my friend J. We got to meet them after the show, and they were really cool.
~Babes in Toyland, twice; both times were at First Avenue in Minneapolis. I saw them with M2.
~Marc Almond, Pantages, Los Angeles, "The Stars We Are" tour, 1988. I bribed my former best friend R to drive me down there. She slept throughout the entire show. We got lost in Watts, which was a treat and a half, especially since she insisted on blasting NWA at top volume.
~G. Love and Special Sauce, Mill City Music Festival, Minneapolis. I went with M3. They ROCKED.
~Whoops Kitty, see above
~Suzanne Vega, Los Angeles, 1993, with M1. Warren Beatty and Annette Bening were in the audience. SV put on a great show, but we went for opening act...
~Kitchens of Distinction. "Drive That Fast" was M1's and my song.
~The B-52’s, Minnesota State Fair. Daddy-O was originally supposed to come with me, but he backed out at the last minute and made my brother take me. Julee Cruise, of all people, filled in for Cindy Wilson, who was taking a hiatus from the band at the time. I absolutely love Julee Cruise, but she doesn't have a "B-52's" voice. She's meant to sing melancholy ballads in that heartbreaking ghost-of-a-doll voice of hers, not big belty songs like "Good Stuff". It was a fun show anyway.
~The Violent Femmes, who opened for The B-52's. Another great show.


~Seeing G tonight
~Trying Ben & Jerry's new Red Velvet flavor: red velvet cake batter ice cream with red velvet cake pieces and a cream cheese swirl. Um, yes please.
~Sweet Valley Confidential. I know it's absolutely going to suck, but I was addicted to the series as a kid and I just have to read it.
~A massage
~Silent Hill Downpour, which drops on Halloween
~My next trip, whenever that may be. Thanks to my company's rather draconian vacation policy, I got porked and can't go with G to Florida for Passover next week. I also didn't get Thanksgiving off this year, which means the next time I see his nephew's kittens, they're going to be CATS. Don't get me wrong, I love me some goddamn cats, but I had forgotten just how much fun kittens are. And, of course, I'll miss spending time with his family. I love his relatives more than my own, excluding my immediate family, so I has a melancholy.
~Watching Super on demand, even though Roger Ebert fucking spoiled the SHIT out of it in his review. Ordinarily I like him, but spoiling a major plot point in a movie that's just been released shows an unbelievable amount of disrespect for the filmmakers and their audience.
~My afternoon break, during which I plan to walk for a mile and then have a Coke Zero and a bag of pretzels at my desk.
~You're going to laugh at me and think I've turned into a total Oldie Oldster, but...the next episode of Dancing with the Stars. This season, I'm rooting for Hines Ward because he just seems so charming and I love his smile. G has grudgingly given me dispensation to root for a Steeler just this once.


~My glasses
~Perfume; the scent varies by day. Today I'm wearing Pacifica Indian Coconut Nectar, which smells like really expensive suntan lotion.
~Bonne Bell Dr Pepper lip balm, which is generally as made up as I ever get. Well, if I'm not running late in the morning, I also swipe on some mascara...which means I wear mascara two or three times a month.
~A bra
~My woobs, or "hanging out" clothes. The second I get home from work, I strip down and change into my woobs: a t-shirt and yoga pants. Ahhh.
~A bemused expression


Only seven? Fine.

~Rude and/or lousy drivers
~Debbie the Temp, who I swear is physically incapable of going more than two minutes without talking. And I shit you not, she looks like Bruce Vilanch.
~The temp who sits behind me. He blows his nose louder than anyone I've ever heard, sings to himself, and has his iPod up so loud that I can hear it. Plus he has a huge ring of keys hanging off his belt, so whenever he gets up, it clanks and jingles and DRIVES ME UP THE FUCKING WALL. As you can tell, this is not my favorite batch of temps we've had in the office.
~When I park out in the boonies so nobody will park by my car and then I come out and somebody has parked right next to me despite dozens and dozens of parking spaces nearby. Why???????
~When I'm doing Wii Fit and step onto the balance board and the automated voice goes, in a pained voice, "Oooh." Thanks for the ego boost, you cock! At least Ingrid (as I've dubbed the yoga instructor) is always nice to me.
~When people say "Whoops!" instead of "Excuse me". Not the same thing, folks!
~People who don’t leave a courtesy stall in the bathroom


~A computer keyboard
~Myself (not necessarily in a sexual way!)
~Steering wheel
~Some sort of writing implement
~A toilet flush handle
~TV remote


~Futz around on the computer


~One Hundred Names for Love by Diane Ackerman
~XVI by Julia Karr
~Red on Red by Edward Conlon
~Sweet Valley Confidential by Francine Pascal (despite its assured suckiness)


~Hedwig and the Angry Inch
~Mulholland Drive


~"Heavenly Star" by Genki Rockets
~"Switchback" by Celldweller


~G. And I will.