I can be guilt tripped all the way to the gym, apparently

For the last couple of weeks I've been going to the gym. (Again. I've started going, again.) The front desk clerk, who usually just says hello & goodbye has started clocking my time.


Ohh, I haven't seen you in a few days...

I'll see you tomorrow...right?

Why do you look so sleepy?

"DUDE. It's 5AM. This is how everybody should look at 5AM."

And I started wondering why this guy is giving me the business? I don't remember signing up for a trainer, or a make-sure-undercovermama-gets-her-ass-to-the-gym-guy. And yet, there he is. Mocking me with his extra cheerful "good morning" and his "see you tomorrow" I mean, REALLY?

But here's the thing. I went to the gym Friday. And then I skipped Saturday, because well... #worldcup. And Sunday, I was too busy getting ready for the 4th of July bash at my house. Monday, I just plain didn't want to get out of bed. So I didn't. YESTERDAY, though... yesterday, I went to the gym. I got the ridiculously cheerful good morning, then I got THE LOOK. You know the one. The one that says I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T BEEN HERE ALL WEEKEND AND SHAME ON YOU.

And do you know that sonofabitch worked? I felt GUILTY! So guilty that this morning, when The Man snuggled me and asked for 10 more minutes, I said, No, I have to go to the gym. GAH! And I did. And he was there all cheerful and shit, telling me to have a great workout (which I did, but still. THE MOCKING, PEOPLE, THE MOCKING) As, I was leaving he smirks at me and says "I'll see you tomorrow, RIGHT?"

Yeah, yeah, you'll see me tomorrow. Jerk.

Hai. I'm an asshole.

I believe in fair warning, so I have been known to tell my co-workers that I'm sort of a jerk. That way, when I do something jerky (like watch you knock over a stack of charts and then say "hey, you dropped something"), no one is surprised.

I AM a professional, mostly, so I try to keep my dislike of co-workers to myself. Or at least, I try not to make it OBVIOUS. Ahem. But there's always one, you know? That one co-worker who makes it realllly hard to like them. For whatever reason. And maybe this co-worker is not a horrible person, but for some reason, you just...can't. I cannot stand her. I am completely aggravated by her and I really have a hard time hiding it. Let's call her the nickname that I've given her already: Noxeema Jackson. And this is REALLY what she looks like: Wesley Snipes, in a dress. And I imagine that she gets dressed in the morning for work like this.

Recently, she's taken to trying to become my BFF, for no reason I can imagine. We had a staff meeting where she made it a point to ask me about some random thing that I did several months ago, that she had already asked me about when she called me about some equally unimportant thing, several months ago. She's invited me to come to her apartment and lay by her pool, to go go-karting, to go the jazz festival...blah, blah.BLAH. Every time I have to send an (work-related) e-mail to her, she tries to make it personal and/or attempts to invite me to her kid's basketball game. Every conversation, which is as rare as I can make it, she finds a way to bring her deceased husband of five or so years into the conversation. She tries to convince me, and everybody else that she was a model in her younger years (please see: Wesley Snipes in a dress. Also, nope.com)

So the other day, our department was "strongly encouraged" (read: not mandatory, but really kinda is) to attend some award ceremony, as one of our co-workers was receiving a fancy award. Toward the end, I decide to cut out with a couple of other co-workers (the newlywed and the mouse) because a) it had already been an hour and a half b) my co-worker had already received her award and c) I was tired of listening to this long ass award ceremony that wasn't even HALF over yet. And I see Noxeema get up as I walk past to catch up with me out of the corner of my eye (I would never look directly at her because she would take that as an invitation to engage, which...it wasn't).

I start walking faster. Because Noxeema is also an AMAZON, she is catching up quick. But I am smarter; so I know she's not going to scream my name while in front of all of these people and so I can pretend like I didn't see her since I didn't look directly at her. While I still have the head start, I cut into the bathroom around a corner before she can catch up to me. And while, I'm there, I decide to, you know...pee. So when she peeked in, she didn't see me. As I'm finishing, the mouse comes in and tells me that she DID come in looking for me, but is gone now. The Newlywed says that I disappeared but when she turned around Noxeema was standing there. And then I had to admit that I sorta ditched her by hiding in the can.

I feel a little bad because I know that she's trying, for whatever reason. And I don't make it easy. But I really don't wanna make nice unless it's absolutely necessary, i.e. Staff Meetings. And when I see her in staff meetings, I am almost the epitome of professional, and attempt to keep all smartassy comments to myself.

Except one:

I'll see you later, unless I see you first.


(see? I told you. I'm an asshole.)

$&(#*&@(*@^!! <--That's me trying not to drop an F-bomb at work

This is MY desk.

On my desk, I have a bajillion paperclips, a shit ton of post-its, the Lakers 2009-10 schedule, random pictures (Yes, that is a question mark. I hold it over my head when I want to know WTF you are talking about) and pens. The pens that I don't mind losing because I am a pen freak and hide my favorite ones. And a plant, because my co-worker across the walkway is constantly staring at my computer screen. Gah!

I'll bet you're wondering why I'm here today talking about my desk. It's because the other day a co-worker was digging around in my drawers HE CLAIMS looking for keys. Keys, I might add are always HERE on the side of my desk in that basket thingy.

Another co-worker caught him at my desk while I was out shopping for lunch. To be fair, I thought I had locked my desk, and if I HAD this would have been a non-issue. But uhh...in the years that I've worked here the keys have always been THERE. (see previous picture). NOT here.

When I found out, I went from my shopping induced euphoria to fighting mad in less than six seconds. I hate, hate, HATE people digging around in places where they don't belong (Yes, I hate going to the OB/GYN. Why do you ask?). I went right over to his office to rip him a new asshole, but lucky for the both of us, he was probably wondering the halls looking for another desk to violate or maybe, you know.. working. Whatever. His being gone probably saved my job.

But when I DID run into him, and please believe that I made it a point to do exactly that, I explained that it has been my understanding that the keys have been kept in the hanging thing there on the side of my desk, where I've seen you get them many times over the years...if not forever, for at least for the THREE FUCKING YEARS that I've been here. And you, "sir"...have never, not once found keys in my drawers.

Also? Rifling through my desk without permission is the same thing as digging through my purse. Which... I'm *sure* you would never do, right? Riiight.

So lets make a deal. If you don't see something on my desk, just wait for me to come back and ask me. And I never have almost cuss you out at work again*. KTHXBAI. (jackass)

/rant

*That's me. Keeping it professional while I'm tearing you a new one.

WTF Wednesdays

I have a LOT going on. Really. So instead of trying to format it into a bunch of different posts, I’m just going to verbally vomit it all RIGHT here:

There's a guy in my Speech class, who, so far, has had a black eye for every speech he's given. WTH is THAT all about?

Every time I see a clip of a concert in my Music Appreciation class, I want to applaud. EVERY.TIME.

My instructor for Speech was in a ballooning accident in Turkey. (Yeah, WTF?!) So for the FIRST 3 weeks of class we had some random teacher and Monday we got the instructor we're going to have for the LAST 3 weeks of class. He's gorgeous. Now, the most shy girl in the class...is going ALL out to get his attention. Not working though. I have a feeling the instructor doesn't want to get arrested on statutory rape charges (the girl is like 16...REALLY).

I have NO idea why I think this is so funny:

Thanks Tira. You suck. You know you do.

Instead of buying my nephew a gift, I made him a cake. (He loves his Uncle, and his uncle looooves the Marine Corps)

Sometimes, I even impress myself.

I took my daughter to see the midnight showing of Harry Potter. We sat in the chair the same way, the screamed at the same times and we found the same things hilariously funny. We also had the same random thought. I don't spend enough time with her. That's going to change.

I ran into my old boss while I was walking around campus. He said he recognized me or rather... he said, "I'd know that ass anywhere"

The Boy, who taught himself to play the guitar is performing in a "Battle of The Bands". I am equally impressed and horrified. (THIS one deserves it's own post. It's coming.)

I am sleepy. Once I get some solid sleep (and come back from my mini-vacation - NO, I still don't have a camera BUT I replaced the battery on my phone, so be prepared for drunken twitpicking and twittering), I will be ready to post something that doesn't resemble brain stew. Until then....Please to enjoy.

It's a small, small world

I really don't mind sharing my whole life stories on the internet. I have lots to say and no real outlets to say it. So, really, the internet is PERFECT for that.

IRL, however, I am a lot more reserved. I don't volunteer information unless asked. Also, I have made a habit of dodging a speech class that I KNOW I need to graduate. (Damn you, public speaking class. Why do you have to be mandatory?!)

Anyways, I finally decided to bite the bullet and take the stupid class. 1) I really don't have that many classes before I graduate, 2) if I take it in the summer it's accelerated, so it's like ripping off a band-aid. Painful, but not long and drawn out and 3) I'm taking it at the local Junior College (because, let's face it, it's CHEAPER).

I worried and worried over this class. Not because I'm not articulate. CLEARLY, I am (you can't see it, but just imagine my sarcastic "sure I am" face here). But because I hate, HATE speaking in public. I get nervous, my voice wobbles and also? I talk with my hands, so no matter how nervous I am, I look even MORE nervous because of that.

I finally got over myself though. I was like, I don't even know these people...short of throwing up in front of the class, there's not really that much to be worried about because I will never see these people again.

...Yeah. Did you hear me tempting fate? I didn't. But apparently, just the thought was enough for Fate to slap me in the face. I got through my first speech, (about MOVIES, for God's sake...I know all about movies!) said something completely random because I was in no way prepared to stand up in front of 32 people and ramble on for 2 minutes. Whatever. I felt good about doing it without too much damage to my psyche.

Friday at work, I'm leaving Rounds (where I get to hear about each patient and every single one of their issues, medical, personal and anything worth gossiping about), the student shadowing one of the RN's stops me...
Aren't you taking Speech 1 @ random JC?
Me: Yes, I am.
Oh, me too. I thought you looked familiar...So I guess I'll see you on Monday here & in class.
Me: AWESOME.

So here's hoping that I don't party too hard and go to class drunk off my ass and really throw up in the middle of giving a speech, or say/do something completely ridiculous (wish me luck with THAT one, I'm sure going to need it), because now I'm going to be worried that my random assholery will be reported back to my co-workers.

What are the chances that I would take a random class at night and be enrolled a co-worker that is ONLY HERE FOR THE SUMMER? I suppose they're a lot higher than you'd think.

Fuck.

Not really a fan

Dear Beyonce,

I'm going to be honest. I don't like you very much, but mostly because you're EVERYWHERE. I don't know why you have to be in every other commercial: Loreal, American Express. You're a pretty good singer. Really. I even paid too much money to take The Brat to see you in your "kicking Destiny's Child to the curb Final Tour". Sorry, I digress. I've come to a sort of stalemate. I won't change the radio station should you happen to come on (but let's face it, you very RARELY never come on my local rock station, and I very rarely listen to the R & B station).

MOVING ON..This weekend, I was at my SIL's house (for my niece's sleepover, and OMG those kids were some kind of hoochie and sassy and if any of the brat's friends had been all smart-mouthed like those girls I'd probably been writing this froma jail cell for child abuse. Sorry. Digressing again) and she had me watch your Diva video. Actually, I watched a Diva video of Sasha Fierce. Really. Bey? I feel I can shorten your name because I've seen you practically naked, and that should allow me not to stand on ceremony.

What the hell is with the leotards? Seriously. We get it already. You're sexy. You're body is hot shit. Of all the things you could have worn to get your point across THAT is what you chose? I don't understand. You've got stylists galore (sidenote: While it's not nice to talk about somebody's mama....REALLY? Your mom's out to get you. That dress is ugly) And quite frankly, you are sexier here, here AND here.

And Also, since I'm letting it all hang out...that leotard? It's been done already. Just recently. I'm sure being all about music and fashion and whatnot you already know that. But in case you didn't:

You should have left her alone in her leotard trend...but you didn't Bey..err Sasha...errr...whoever you are. Please stop. Before it gets out of hand.

Or is it already to late?

Signed,

Is tired of looking at crotches that don't have dollar bills stuffed in them.

There oughta be rules

It's not that everyone around me is dropping like flies, but it DOES seem as though I've been to an abnormal amount of funerals in the last year or so. And I'm no Miss Manners, or anything. But really? I always thought that there was like some unspoken "rules" when it came to gatherings for funerals and junk.

I thought wrong. Yesterday, I went to a funeral with my Mom & Sister. And while we were waiting for the show to get on the road, so to speak, we were discussing the sorts of things we'd prefer when we died. I, for instance, requested cremation...because I am crazy claustrophobic IRL, and would prefer not to think of my lifeless body buried in a box underground.

We also got to talking about the kinds of things that happen at funerals, that shouldn't.

Talking on your cell phone. Yes, I'm sure you're a big deal in your world. But honestly? You couldn't just NOT answer your phone during the service? Did you really have to answer it to say, Hey girl...No, I can't talk right now. I'm AT A FUNERAL. I know there are exceptions, when The Man was in Iraq, Afghanistan, Wherever else he went that involved imminent death & danger, I kept my cell phone on ALL THE TIME. At church, in the bathroom, everywhere. But this was clearly, not that call. And? That's also the time that you should check your cell to make sure you won't be the next asshole everybody is giving the stink eye when your soulja boy ring tone goes off at the loudest volume ever during prayer ('cause you just know it's going to ring to optimize embarrassment/assholey-ness).

I know it's the general practice to wear black for funerals. But 1. This is a funeral, not a biker bar (not that there's anything wrong with biker bars) and 2. This shouldn't really be the look you're going for when some lady who lived her whole life in the most conservative of churches dies. Especially when everyone knows your mama raised you better than to show up looking like it's midnight at 10AM. I'm just saying. You probably could have worn any color you wanted as long as it covered up your snatch.

Gossip! We women like to know the story, morning glory. But if you're going to talk shit about the family (Ohhh, girl I heard he was cutting up yesterday at the viewing. He told off so-and-so, he didn't tell so-and-so about the funeral, they were fighting about money blah, blah, BLAH), do it where people who know the family well don't have to cuss you out in church for telling tales out of school.

I'm sure this list could be MILES long. But I kind of think I hit the big three, don't you? And you don't have to thank me. Consider it a public service for those who are unclear on proper behavior. I am here to help.

Oh, one last thing to the guy I met at the viewing: Hi. You didn't catch my name because I didn't throw it. Although there was some weird backlighting and an absurd amount of candles, I think perhaps you were confused. There were no drinks, or party people. In fact, there was an actual dead body front & center. And so, I think I should tell you that it was inappropriate to try to pick me up. You're a jerk. That is all.

I don't owe you anything

In case I haven’t mentioned it, I work for some Doctors at a BIG FANCY HOSPITAL. I transferred from elsewhere in the hospital after the girl who USED to work here got FIRED. Apparently she was a screw up of epic proportions. She also didn’t pay her bills. How would I know?

This job had been open for 3 months before I started working here. First, I had to clear her 70 bajillion voice mails. Calls from her car dealer. Calls from places she was interviewing. Random calls from friends who didn’t know she didn’t work there. Calls from her/my BOSS she was obviously ignoring. Anyways. I changed the voice mail to say there was a new sheriff in town and life went on. Or so I thought.

I would get random phone calls to my extension, “Can I speak to Fired Employee?” And in my best, I’M NEW HERE VOICE, “ I’m sorry she no longer works here”. It seemed to be enough for MOST of the people who called. Then the calls stopped, I mean…I would get the occasional call, but no big. She’s no longer here. ……*insert 3 months off from work that I spent lying abed with my foot up on pillows*…..and then David.

DAVID did not get the message that Fired Employee is no longer here. DAVID keeps calling hoping to trip me up when calls to ask for Fired Employee. David is a big ginormous PAIN-IN-MY-ASS.
It started innocently enough, he would call, and I would tell him that Fired Employee does not work here any longer. “Okay, thank you” Then I would get a few hang up calls. A word of advice, DAVID, this is 2009. Even my poor little department has caller I.D., so even if I don’t see your name, I see your phone number.

2nd time: “I’m sorry Again. She’s still not here”
3rd time: “Really. Not here”
4th time: ….Okay, it’s time to be serious here. “David”, I say, “How
can I tell her you’re calling if SHE DOESN’T WORK HERE?”
Him: I thought you must be her friend.
Me: REALLY?! I’m not answering her house phone Dave.
This is a place of employment. I have her job, would YOU be my friend if I took
your job?
Him: Well, can you give her a message?
Me: NO.

Really, David. You’re a dick. Then I get to work this morning and you left me ANOTHER flippin’ voicemail. “By listening to this message, you acknowledge being Fired Employee…blah blah blah”. Guess what, Dave? I listened to the whole message, I’m still not her. And THEN I called the number you left. Hi, I keep getting calls from this Jack-hole David even though I’ve told him I am not Fired Employee. Please for the love of all things holy, stop calling here. Fired Employee is no longer here. She’s not hiding up my ass, or under my desk. I swear.**

I may owe lots of people but YOU are not one of them, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be harassed by somebody ELSE’S creditor. At work. Maybe I should give you my home number, so you can stalk Fired Employee at my house too. I still don’t know where she is, but at least I can let you go to voicemail like I do the people that I owe money. (Really, Gas Company? You are going to cut off my service because I owe you 1 damn cent? The phone call you left to tell me that AND the nasty gram on my door was more than that. You guys are ALSO assholes. And I walked INTO the Gas Company's office to give them one penny and tell them so.)


** After my ranting and raving, David's SUPERVISOR removed my phone number from their data, so hopefully...no more phone calls. So all's well that ends...

I need my fix

Dear HBO,

You do this to me every. single. time. You get me all sucked in to your crazy good shows, and then...season finale that knocked my socks off. That would be okay if I didn't have to wait until SUMMER 2009 before you aired a new episode. What the hell?!

Why are you torturing me? All I ever wanted to do is find out the deal with Sookie and Tara and WTF happened to Lafayette?! And you're going to make me wait SIX whole months. Now that's just cruel and unusual punishment from somebody who should be grateful I didn't come down there and firebomb your offices after you took Carnivale off the air. (I mean...really. It was only a 3-season show. WHY would you show the biggest cliffhanger EVER and then not return to clean it up? JERKS)

So now I guess I'll be tracking down the books (did you know it's a book series?) to kill time until next season starts. In which case, please don't stray too far from what happens in the books, because I'll be watching and picking it apart and wondering why THAT didn't happen on the show like it did the book and.....

On second thought...Doesn't the new season of Big Love start soon? Maybe I'll start watching that instead

A vacation from my vacation...?

So...'member how I said Tuesday was My First Day Back at work? Nope. Just Kiddin'. It was my practice day back at work. Sound foolish? What the hell am I talking about? Well gather 'round, and I'll tell you a story about my "second" day at work also known as my "paid vacation from my paid vacation".

I was at work ALL DAY LONG on Tuesday. And that's saying a lot when you consider I haven't been doing anything but sitting around with my foot up since July. Tuesday, before end of day, the HR person calls me and says "I uhh....don't have a clearance for you." I'm supposed to be cleared? MD note not enough, huh? Gotta go to employee health? Too late to do it today, so I go the next day.

Imagine: Me, somewhat Quasimodo-style, dragging my big fancy boot over to Employee Health. But still fashionably attired, after all...I can't wear fancy shoes, so I need to step up the outfit game:

Me: So I'm here to get clearance.
EH: You've been out? (see how much they missed me?)
Me: No, I heard you guys were having a sale.
EH: ...(can't take a joke those Employee Healthsters)
Me: ::sigh:: I've been out, I was told to come here to be cleared.
EH: do you have a note?
Me: Nope, nobody said I needed a NOTE too.
EH: Can you get a note today?
Me: :::grumbling & calling my doc::: Nope, doc's out til tomorrow.
EH: Well then, can't go back to work. See you tomorrow!
Me: limped out of the office as fast as my fancy walking boot would carry me.

What I did instead of working? Target, I needed to finish shopping for the Brat. I got notebooks, agenda books, a Sex & the City box set and a dress (Target IS the devil, y'all. I swear). I got a pedicure, purple nail polish, do I want the deluxe pedi? SURE, why the heck not! I went to see Death Race. Yeah, yeah...don't judge me. It's starring Jason Statham, and have you seen him? (You're welcome.) And then I came home and took a nap.

I know, right? Hard to believe they pay me for this...