And there you have it...

I am quitting my job. I know this must be astounding to all of you- but it's true.

My last day is tomorrow, and there were two candidates for my position which were considered. Gator had told his boss, Queso Grande, that he had made his choice, but Queso Grande wanted to have his say in my replacement. Thus he came down from HQ today to interview the two girls, one of which will start tomorrow and I will train her.

When I gave my two weeks notice I wrote up my letter of resignation and handed it to Gator, stating that I was going back to school, and that April 25th would be my last day. he looked at it and said "going back into the medical field then?" and I said Yes, and he said "Ok, well.. ok, I gotta make some calls about this then." and went into his office to let HQ know I was quitting. It went over all much much better than I expected it to.

Then I get an email from Jellybean up in HQ (new character- cuz everyone likes jellybeans!)

"Way to ruin my week-end, girl!!!" she writes

I write "well- umm-- yeah. are you entirely surprised? I mean- seriously?"

Jellybean: "No, not at all, but I am bummed. What can we do to change your mind? Anything?"

Me: "Bring in 2 + other women to work here in the office, make everyone nice, and get rid of the negativity. how feasible is that?" and then she calls and we talk for a while and I mention something about not having friends here at work that come to any of my bbq's or anything social..

Jellybean: "When is your next bar-b-que? I'll be your friend and I'll drive all of us down from here!!!!"

She's a sweetie. :)

Then I get another email asking: "Queso Grande said you quit because of the payroll spread sheet and because I asked you to come to learn how to do contracts? Tell me that's not true."

I respond: "That's not true. Queso Grande's clueless and listens to Gator, not Rounder or myself or the guys. This place is sexist, racist, close-minded, homophobic, medieval, and chauvinistic. When this is pointed out, instead of being remedied, it is mocked. You can tell him that. Maybe even I'll send you the link to my live journal (after I stop working here) and you can read all of the fun that I've been going through.

as to my next BBQ: April 26th- we're having our 5 year anniversary party."

.. and so she's coming. Yippee! Then she emails me again:

Jellybean: "El Presidente (the uber high up president of the company) came in and asked me why - I flat out told him, mostly Gator being so chauvinistic and the negativity. I did tell him you were going to school, too. I sure would like to see something change down there. (And by change I don't mean you leaving)."

So I realize this is getting ridiculous! I am going to school! I mean, yes, I am choosing to go to school now vs later due to the lack of friends and negativity, but I'm going to school! And I learn from Jellybean that Gator is just flat out LYING to Queso Grande about why I'm leaving! Then Rounder said that Gator said I was leaving cuz I was mad at him, Rounder. I said NO! I'm going back to school! Sheesh! What's with the random lying?!?

So I compose an email and send it to El Presidente and Queso Grande

" Hello Gentlemen
I just wanted to pause and say thank you for the opportunities and skills that the company has given me. From various projects I have been able to hone my typing skills, work multi-lines phone, as well as become better at aspects of excel, word, checkbook reconciling, and travel planning, to name a few.

I have appreciated the opportunities to learn new things and I like the challenges of keeping up in a quick-paced environment. I was excited by the aspect of coming up to HQ for training to do Contracts and other tasks, because I have a strong desire to learn more and build up my skills and capabilities even further.

Upon reflection of my excitement to learn, I have decided to go back to school to become a Pharmacy Technician. I am excited by the prospect of returning to the medical field, and grateful for all the skills and experiences I have gained here that I can transfer to my future career.

My final day of work will be April 25th; I will be starting my program this summer, and would be happy to make myself available to support the training of my replacement if the need arises.

Thanks for your time, and for the time I have had here. I wish this company and its employees the best of luck in personal and business affairs.

Cordially,

Peggy "


.. and I wait...

and from El Presidente I get a response:

"Dear Peggy

Thank you for all you have done that has contributed to our success during your employment with us. You will be MISSED. I will not try or ask you to reconsider as it sounds as you have made peace with your decision. I am sure that the Pharmacy field will be a fulfilling and rewarding venture for you for many years to come.

I wish you all the luck and success that hard work and persistence brings to people like your self who are willing to go the extra mile.

We will talk prior to next Friday.

Sincerely, El Presidente "


.... and tomorrow is "next Friday"

SO! I have not yet talked to El Presidente, but Queso Grande is here today, and he asks if I would like to go out to lunch with him. Ah-HA! I think.. this is is where it all comes unraveling and everyone learns the TRUTH!

So we get in the car and I ask "So, is this basically my exit interview?"

and he laughs "no... I just wanted to thank you for your time with us."

"So, you don't need to hear anything from me?"

"No."

:(

so we have lunch and talk about random this's and that's... and that's it.

And when I get back to work Chuckles asks me privately "So, how was lunch with Queso Grande?"

I told him it was very surface level and very unsatisfying, cuz, ya know, I wanted to SAY THINGS.

"What kind of things?" Chuckles asks. "Just a big ol' rant about all of us?"

"No," I say "I would use PC terms and lots of I-statements."

"Like what?"

"Well, stuff that I think it would be important for him to know- like... like.. like I would say 'I feel that people here are sometimes very insensitive to feelings and concerns are not taken seriously'."

"Yeah," Chuckles says "but you know that no ones cares about that kind of stuff."

:O

And then I just started laughing.

"Do you know how totally ironic and validating that statement was in comparison to the statement just before it?!"

"yeah, but it's true- no one cares what you think. sorry, but it's true."

Case And Point. Side note- they did choose a girl for my replacement and she has a BS in liberal studies with a minor in SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY! she's gonna have a lot of material if she ever wants to go get her Masters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No, a PAP Smear is not like Sex

So I work with all men, and some of them are in their 40's. They do the guy-talk stuff, and one of the lovely conversations I got to hear about was how one of them was complaining how later that week he had to do see his doctor and she had suggested that he start to get his prostate examined.

A bunch of the other guys were all OOO EEWW AHH and were generally grossed out, but I nodded and said that it seemed a good idea to do.... ya know.. stay healthy, get exam, etc.

Gator just kinda laughed and did Talk to the Hand motion and said something like "You don't even get a say in this!" and well, no, I don't.. but no more than the other guys do.. so I went back to my desk and thought about men's health, examinations, and general medical check ups.

At that point Rounder left the Man Conversation and came back to his office, passing my desk on the way, shuddering and shivering as he went.

I made some kind of comment about how funny it was how totally weirded out you guys are about an examination.

"Well, I'm not gay!" was the response.

nice.

"hmm.." I said. "Well, no, but it's an examination- it's not sexual. It's a medical thing."

"Oh COME ON!" he said indignantly "Some doctor stickin his fingers in me and that's not supposed to weird me out Just A LITTLE?"

"Gee," I said sarcastically "It sure would be awkward to have an examination where you were poked and prodded and things were inserted into you so that the doctor could make sure everything was ok up there. Oh, wait! I've been doing that for the last 15 years!"

then I hear the Scoff.

.. and then a quiet "oh puh-lease...."

And I think Oh No You Don't..

"What?" I ask

"I said 'Oh Please' Like you're not enjoying it!"

Oh No... you didn't...

GAME ON!

"WHAT?!" I say much much MUCH Louder

And so he goes: "I mean, you're talking about 2 different holes! Mine is a One Way which is going to be violated the Opposite direction! Yours is a Two Way, meant to have things stuck up inside it! I mean do you really notice a difference? Does it really matter what it is that's inside you? It's all the same- come on!"

.... I ....... I .......I.........

"I'm not going to have this conversation."

"What?" Once again, that innocent 'what?' that I love so much

I repeat "I am NOT having this conversation"

"Why not?"

?!?!

"IT'S NOT THE SAME!" I scream.

another scoff "...whatever."

Oh my god! Oh my god! WHAT!?!?

..you clueless jackass...

......and how do you gracefully back down from a conversation like that? How do you just go back to answering phones in a pleasant voice and be light hearted and bubbly? You cannot-- or at least, I didn't find a way to do so. So instead I sat there and fumed until I went home.

It was awesome!

yeah- no. I'm kidding-- it actually really sucked.

I Like Crotches

I know you're all jumping to this entry first off cus the title has "crotch" in it, and that means we're talking about genitalia, aka Your Naughty Bits, and that is like Sex! And everyone likes Sex, cus it's like Smut, which we all secretly love.

There is this landing.. right after you exit the office, before you go down the 5 stairs to the ground of the shop. It has no filled-in railing- just a bar at waist height, and you can stand on it and be a full 3 feet taller than everyone else. I tried my best Eva Perone stiff palms up in the air, making a "V" with my arms, and sang the chorus lines of "Don't Cry for me Argentina" but they were kind lost on everyone there. I guess they don't like Madonna?

So when you are standing on this landing your crotch is basically at head level for everyone standing on the ground. It's excellent, especially if it's a hot day and you're already feeling gross and sticky and feel that you should be wearing a t-shirt that says "I can smell my crotch from here."

Once, standing there, Casanova approaches and says "Hey Peggy, how's it--" and then turns away quickly, back turned to me, and then says "Damn! Sorry... " *big loooong exhaling breath from him*

I have no idea what's going on.

I ask if he's ok, and he kinda gets sheepish and mutters something that I cannot hear. I ask him to repeat it.

Exasperated, he turns around and says loudly "I really like crotches, OK?!?"

My mouth drops as I try not to start laughing. And then I pause and say "You-- um.. what?"

"I like crotches"

"Well," I say. "You're a straight man, so that kinda makes sense, doesn't it?"

"No, I mean, that's what I check out on women. Some men check out asses or breasts or legs, right? Well, I check out crotches."

gosh... I kinda don't know what to say, so I do the stupid repeat "You check out crotches?"

"Yes."

Huh!

Ok- now I'm curious.

"So," I continue. "I suppose you don't like women in skirts?"

"Gawd, no! Ugh!" No, that makes-- cuz they're covered up.

"Ok.. and I suppose there are some, um, shapes, that are more appealing than others?"

"Oh, yes.. Yeeeeeeeeesss!"

"Mm-hm. And, then I suppose you like a little camel toe action going on?"

I think that last statement made him go a wee bit weak in the knees, cuz he kinda swooned as he said "I Love Camel Toe-- just a little bit-- not too much, but just a little bit-- yes!"

at that point someone else passed by and Casanova asked "Hey- Camel Toe? Good or bad?"

without missing a beat the guy said "A little bit of camel toe is always good, yeah." and continued on his way, not stopping or finding anything weird about the conversation.

I'm kinda half smirking laughing at this point, but now my mind is full of questions for this kind hearted Pervy Crotch Fancier of mine. I don't know when else I will be able to ask these newly blossoming wonderings, so I gotta continue.

And thus I start "So, I have to ask-"

and am interrupted with "Yes, Peggy! You have a nice crotch! There! I said it! Are you happy now?!? If you must know, then Yes!"

---- long pause----------

"Um," I say "that wasn't what I was going to ask. But, well, thank you, I guess."

I didn't think I would ever see this guy blush, but there you have it.

"oh." he says. then clears his throat and tries to play it cool. "And what was your question, then?"

Golly I'm trying hard not to laugh, cuz he's answering all my questions in earnest and it's not polite to laugh when someone is opening up to you.

"I was just wondering if you ever thought a crotch was going to look one way, based on how the pants were setting, and then you discovered upon later seducing that the crotch was in fact different that you thought it would be."

pause... think..

"No. I know how they will look, and I'm always right."

:)

right then. You go with your crotch-loving self!

Survey says? ! ?

There have been a lot of surveys at work. Well, more over, I think one thing, everyone else seems to think the other, they tell me I'm totally wrong, and then they say "You go ask your friends! They'll say the same thing!" And thus I usually do. And thusly they usually don't; this is why they are my friends.

The best ones, of course, I can not even tell you why the survey came up-- some strange conversation gone awry usually.

As just stated, I have no idea why this came up, but the question was posed to Rounder "If you had to do one of the following things, and your male co-workers were going to find out about it, which one would you rather do: A) Kiss a man on the mouth for 10 seconds, with no tongue, just closed lips touching, or B) have sex with your female first cousin."

there was a pause, and he asked "Is she cute?"

and then I paused to see if he was joking. yeah- no, he wasn't. I then proceeded to sputter things like What? No! That was Rhetorical! and he kept saying "I mean, it makes a difference what she looks like, ya know"

and kept saying "NO! This isn't a valid question with 2 right answers! There IS a right answer, and it's not your cousin!"

and to be fair, he asked "Then why did you ask?"

Then someone else walked in and Rounder said "you ask him- he'll say the same thing."

"Same thing what?" asks newcomer coworker of mine. And so I ask him.

he pauses and asks "Well, what does she look like?"

"NO!!"

"..what?..." . . . you know, as a side note, I have a kinda love/hate relationship with that.. that.. that innocent, stupid, ignorant shrug of a "what?" which is usually accompanied with a bit of a slack lower lip and a curl of the upper lip as if the sayer might as well have just uttered "uh-duh-huh?"

and I was so appalled by these two men that I went outside into the shop, where I ran into 3 other guys.

I was obviously flustered and so one of them asked what was wrong and I said that I just asked a question inside and got the same answer twice and I was astounded by it.

So they asked "well, what was the question?" .. so I ask it of them, and I got 3 answers:

"Well, is she hot?"
"What does she look like?"
"Is she over 18?" (at least he's concerned that she's legal.. and I guess that's.. good?)

*Peggy screams*

"NO! Wrong Answer!"

Over walks Evenflow (new character) and asks what's going on here. I feel that Evenflow is a bit higher up on the smarts scale than some of the others. Once he walked into the office and Rounder asked him a question and Evenflow answered the question and ended with "and I think this because I like to know I'm one of the 3 smartest people who works here." This is interesting because there are 3 people in the office: me, Rounder, and Evenflow. Rounder asks "so.. who's the smartest person?" and without missing a beat, very matter-of-fact, Evenflow says "Peggy." Obviously he's intelligent, so this is my one last chance of a decent human being, and thus I ask him the Kissing Man vs. Sleeping with Cousin question.

he pauses then asks "is there any money involved?"

??

ok.. at least that's different. So I ask "You mean like, you're doing this for a million dollars kind of thing? No."

he thinks some more and then says "well, considering how all my cousins are ugly, I'd say A: Kiss the guy. Hell, I'd even have sex with a guy: I can black out any amount of time if I need to."

...... ??

and there you have it.

Regardless to say, that evening when I was out to drinks with friends, I asked the guys there and they gave the Correct answer, although some of them were willing to sex with each others' cousins... assuming she's over 18, of course.

Seafood.... that's hard to describe...

So I was sitting around with Chuckles (new character) and Shooter, just chit chatting. It is predicted to rain that evening.

Shooter is talking about how excited he is that it's going to rain this weekend, becasue he's going deer hunting and it's better when it's wet: deer move around more, leaves aren't as noisy, etc. I give a kinda "mm-MMmm!" non-commital noise, cuz I'm not quite sure what to say about deer hunting.

So Shooter asks something like "are you opposed to hunting?"

We talk about that a bit.. how I am not opposed to hunting if you use the whole animal, but I would not personally go out and go hunting. Hunting for sport I'm not ok with. Post-apocolypic scenarios are totally different...

I say "I suppose because they're not mammals, I wouldn't mind fishing. That is, if I ate seafood. But since I don't eat seafood, I don't go fishing. But if I did eat seafood, I may enjoy fishing. Moot point, tho."

Shooter just looks at me with one of those 'what the hell are you talking about?' looks and says "Fish isn't seafood."

Like I always do during This Kind of conversation, I pause and kinda open and close my mouth a few times. I look at Chuckles, who just shakes his head.

"yes, it is." I say

"no.... it's not" Shooter says.

"yes, it really is."

"..no.. it isn't."

I literally stomp my foot at this point and say "Fish isn't Seafood?!? yes- Fish *IS* Seafood!"

"Nah, dude, it isn't. If it's not from the Sea, then it's not Seafood. Seafood is like crab and shrimp and shit like that, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"no," I say "those are crustaceans and shellfish, which are a sub-category of Seafood. Fish are Also seafood."

"No, they're NOT!" he continues. "That's why you have fish like trout and shit from streams- they're fish, but they're not from the sea."

"OK," I play along "What about things like tuna which are from the ocean? Does that make them Oceanfood? Since we technically have no Sea's in this region, does that mean we have no Seafood in the region either? FISH IS SEAFOOD!!"

At this point Chuckles chimes in with a very flat, yet firm "Sorry, but Fish really is Seafood."

Shooter got up and left with a "I dunno, dude.. whateva.." and went home. (It was the end of his day anyway. It's not like this upset him so much that he had to leave work.)

So I looked at Chuckles and thanked him for havin' my back. He said No Prob.

But I love the idea of going somewhere like Newport Bay, Skippers, Mo's or Ivar's, you know- a restaurant known for it's seafood and exclaiming "What?!? FISH on a SEAFOOD menu?!? Good God!" And could you really go into McGrath's Fish House and find nothing except for Fish? No Clam Chowder. No Crab Cakes. Just Fish.

But, as I said before- this is all moot, since I don't eat seafood. or fish.

A Flying Scotsman due to an Obstructive Post-it Note

New character: Rounder

Rounder works in the office with me and is above me on the totem pole, but below Gator.

Every so often we get these lovely FedEx pacakges with important paperwork in them, and we must process them in the 1st stage, then we FedEx them to our headquarters in a different state. From there they, HQ, do stages 2 thru 19,284.

What normally happens:

1. FedEx guy drops off package and I sign for it. (very pretty FedEx guy in fact... no wait- I'm thinking of the UPS guy. Digression: when I first saw pretty UPS guy I looked up from my desk as the door opened and did a quick little intake of air because there in front of me was one of the hottest women I had ever seen! I normally don't loose my breath at pretty women, but it was like the first time you saw Catherine Zeta Jones in The Mask of Zorro, or Selma Hayek in Desperado or From Dusk Till Dawn; it doesn't matter is you're a lesbian, a gay man, or a potten plant-- everyone said "daaaaamn!". She had cute black hair cut in a pixie cut- little hoop earrings, 5'7", smooth tanned skin, golden eyes, dark lashes, trim body..... with a baritone voice. Damn! She turned out to be a man. A very pretty man, tho. *sigh*)

2. I open said package with contract in it and say "Rounder- new item: XX project in XX"

3. Rounder says "Ok- got it. I'm emailing up to HQ" cuz he has to email this thingy regarding project XX in XX location.

4. I go get a hardcopy of the paperwork from Rounder and make a file for it.

5. I take the contract and FedEx it up to HQ.

Done.


What happened recently was not those 5 steps.

1. FedEx guy drops off paperwork. (I am still dreaming of the Cute UPS Boy arriving and telling me he's getting a sex change to become a woman... cuz he's just not as cute as a boy as he is as a girl. How whacked out is that?!?)

2. I open package, but Rounder is gone at lunch and then a meeting. I am not sure when he'll be back, and FedEx has to pick up by 3pm, so I have to improvise until he gets back.

3. I go into Rounder's office and I grab the hardcopy of the paperwork and make a file.

4. I go onto his computer and pull up the thing that he needs to email up to HQ and leave the document open on his computer desktop so that he will see it when he returns.

5. I then leave a Post-it note in the dead center of his computer monitor saying "I took the hardcopy of the paperwork and FedEx'd it up to HQ. Please email this up when you get back"

(time passes. Rounder returns to work and goes into his office and )

6. yells "Hey! Who was at my computer?"

7. I say "I was.." and then I pause.. waiting for him to read the post-it note and say something like "Oh- got it. Thanks!" But instead he just pauses as well. So a bit of time passes..

8. "Well?" he says. "Were you looking for something on my computer?"

9. I don't say anything. I'm thinking "I wrote a note, you dumbass... read it!"

10. "Hello? Are you at your desk?" he asks

11. "yes, I'm here" I respond.

12. "well," he continues "why were you at my computer?"

13. I pause some more... I mean, if he saw that his computer screen is different than when he left, then he would see the post-it note with my very legible handwriting explaining exactly why I was on his computer, right? So I ask "Is there a Post-it note on your computer screen?" cuz maybe it fell off, right? maybe it fluttered away...

14. then he says the silver statement of the day "Well- there was, but I took it off. It was in my way."

15. I pause. "so... then you know why I was at your computer."

16. then he says the golden statement of the day "No- I threw it away without reading it."

17. "You threw it away without reading it?" I ask. He mutters a uh-huh. "You Threw It Away Wihtout Reading It?!?" he mutters uh-huh again.

18. So I get up and start to leave the office to go... I don't know-- away. Away from him. Away from People. As I close the door I hear him saying "Well? Hey! What did it say? Hey!"

so I stayed outside for a while and then when I came back in, maybe 5 minutes later, he was rummaging around all over his desk looking for the note. I stood in the doorway just kinda watchng him as he muttered things like "wait- is this it? no.. where.. it was just... is this? no..."

I went back to my desk and continued my day. About 15 minutes later I heard "I found it!" and I said "That's nice dear" as I calculated how many minutes it was until I got off work, drove home, greeted the dog, set my stuff down, and could make myself a Flying Scotsman.

A Flying Scotsman:

Ingredients
2 ounces Scotch
2 ounces sweet vermouth
Dash of Angostura bitters
dash of sugar syrup (or to taste)

Stir ingredients in a mixing glass with ice thoroughly and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

"Like a Girl" is so gay

I work with manly men. I am the only female here. But let me repeat: these are Manly Men. My husband and all of my guy friends combined could jut never be as manly as these men. This is because my husband and all my male friends have a feminine side, and there be no femininity here at work!! No!! Men men men!

Manly. Masculine. Grunt Snort Itch. Thump Chest!

Dictionary.com says not much helpful about Masculine:
1. pertaining to or characteristic of a man or men: masculine attire.
2. having qualities traditionally ascribed to men, as strength and boldness.

but here at work, Masculine means Not Feminine. And since these are Manly Men, they cannot be, by no means whatsoever, slightly Feminine. Because if they were feminine, that would mean they were gay. It's really very simple.

So, if you are anything feminine, such as Nice, Considerate, Pleasant, or Cordial, then you are gay. So, since this is a very homophobic workplace -- unless you're a lesbian, cuz that's HAWT!- then you are not allowed to be anything other than manly.

Also, anything Good/Positive is masculine, and anything Bad/Negative is feminine, aka gay. It'a all very classic Greek: depending on the mood of the man during conception, you would get a different kind of person. If it was a strong man in good health, it would be a manly son. If it was a strong man in poor health, it would be a gay son. If it was a puney and itsy wimpy man, regarless of his health, you would get a daughter. It's so simple!

I hear all kinds of jaw dropping comments here at work all the time, and I personally swear like a sailor and crack up at un-PC jokes, but WOW!! some of the things said here...

Chauvenistic, sexist, racist... those are to be expected. What gets me are the really random comments, because, you know, my brain just doesn't think that way.

New character from work.. hmm.. Casanova. He's the pretty one here, and so he has to be even more masculine to make up for his cute face, and cute and pretty are feminine, which means gay. Casanova was filling out a form, somthing like a W-4 tax form, and he was using pen. He kept messing up and scartching out the tiny cell, then trying to re-write in the leftover space, and I was amused as I watched this.

"Would you like to use some white-out?" I ask, holding it out.

He kinda pushes it away saying "I'm not gonna use white-out. White's f**king gay."

I pause. "White out?"

"Yes. I won't use it."

"WHITE OUT?! White-Out is GAY?! That doesn't eve make any sense!" and Casanova just kinda shrugged with a "well, the truth is sometimes hard to accept" kind of look.

But I use white-out... and I use it Like a Girl.

This is one of my all time favorites, because when it makes sense is not when it is used here at my place of employment

I would fully qualify under ______ Like a Girl for all of these:
- run
- pee
- sing
- throw
- ovulate
- have cheekbones
- dress
- shop
- giggle
- have breasts
.......... etc.

why? because I am a girl!

Now- the 3 scenarios I have witnessed, but lordy knows there must have been others:

1. Something was being cut into a particular shape. My boss.. let's call him...Gator.. goes out to see how the cutting is coming along, and sees that it is not going along well. So he bellows "Good Gawd! You call that a straight line? That looks like it was cut by a girl!"

.. and I kinda look at him and say "meaning...?"

and he says "Oh! Well, um, you know, it's, um......"

just say it! it's bad like a girl! It's screwed up like a girl! It's inhearantly wrong, like a girl!! sweet jesus......


2. Someone came in to get some work gloves from the office. There are a few different types that we stock, based on the scope fo work needed to be done. So someone is wearing one type, but I guess they should have been wearing a different type.. I kinda got lost in the details, but I heard someone else taunt "Why are you wearing those? Those are Girl Gloves."

and I checked. they are not pink, nor are they glittery, and thus I declare them NOT girl gloves. But something like they were only 4mm thick, not 6mm.. can you beleive that?!? That's like.. that's like.. that's like a pair of gloves a GIRL would wear! Cuz they're wimpy- like a girl! and they're not strong, like a man!! ... and if they're anti-Manly, that makes them... gay! Like a gay girl!.. but a gay girl would be a lesbian, which is HOT! but these gloves aren't hot, they're like girly gloves.... yada yada around in circles. I just sorta went inside and let them discuss it.


3. this one is just a classic example of mixing metaphors, if by mixing metaphors you mean cut n' pasting random nouns with the word GIRL.

Gator was calling up one of the employees to let them know what time they needed to be in tomorrow and all I heard was this:

"Dude! Did I wake you? Man, you musta slept like a girl."

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

I yelled "I WISH I SLEPT THAT WELL!" from across the office, and he chuckled.

I just want to know what the hell Sleeping Like A Girl means. Like a Baby.. ok. Cuz it also makes no sense to say you were Sleeping Like a Gay Man. With a Gay Man, well, that's different.. Like a Gay Girl Baby? Like a small lesbian child? hmm....

So now I'm here, writing like a girl, about my coworkers... and now my wrist is hurting from my lack-of gel wrist support keyboard thingy.. not that I'd use one anyways, cuz they're so gay. .. like a girl.. gay!

That Guy is here in my Office....

You all know That Guy.

That Guy can also be That Girl, but "guy" has become unisex, and usually is male, but not always.

That Guy is the one who yells too loud at the TV screen in a bar that is not a sports bar but has 1 TV on, playing some game, with the sound off. With the music low, and the general mummer going on in the pub, he'll be the one who stands up and yells "AW, C'Mon! Get'em!" and will then slowly sit down muttering "defense, man, c'mon! expletive deleted following named person on non-specific team of said sport! Damnit!!"

That Guy is the one who yells "I'm Drunk!" when he's drunk.

We saw a play recently- a touring Broadway play which cost over $70 a ticket. That Guy was sitting next to my husband, saying the lines right before they happened, then saying "Yes!" afer the line was said after he said it. He was chittering "Hello Nurse!" when a sexy girl came onto stage. I rolled up my program to whap him upside the head, but my husband stopped me.

After the play we were out to drinks with my sister and her husband, who were also at the play, but 5 seats away from That Guy. My husband was talking about sitting next to That Guy, and the others were unaware of That Guy. So we started to give some examples of That Guy.

"That Guy," I said "is the one in a restaurant who cheers and claps when a tray of glasses is dropped and crashed on the floor."

five, maybe ten mintues goes by and a tray of glasses crash on the ground. We chuckle, because, you know, we were just talking about that, untill from across the room we hear "Yeah!! Wooo!" *clap*clap*clap* At that point my husband stands up in the booth we were sitting in and yells "DON'T BE THAT GUY!!!!" across the bar. Enough people in the bar laughed at that to let me assume that they, too, knew about That Guy.

This was in another city, 3 hours away. And now I'm back at work, and somehow That Guy is here in my office. I think That Guy is, like I've heard people say about the Christian god, Everywhere and In Everything. He is omnipresent... damn it.

Today is a Monday, and to fit the proper "Monday" technology is failing us and things are not working. The phones stopped working. The copier was not working. This is bad, since my job is to answer phones and make copies. We do not have voicemail. This is bad.

The phone guy comes out, starts fixing phones. I go to lunch. I come back and the phone guy is gone, but the copier guy is here. I pick up my phone receiver and there is nothing: no lines, no dial tone, no beep beep. So I unplug the phone line from my phone, to maybe reset it or something, and plug it back in and it makes this kinda beeping screaching sound at me. Basically, it screams in pain at me.

I kinda "Ahhh!"'d and unplugged the line as my bosses all went "Whoa! What was that?!" and then I hear "Heeheehee.. That sounded Bad! That didn't sound good!" from the area by the copier.

This is when I know that our copier repair man is That Guy.

Then I realize he's making noises and talking to himself. "Ok.. gotta get that right Here. Tighten that up.. Ok.. are you gonna work for me? No? Ooo.. Please?"

I try to ignore him. I go fax something, which is near the copier and he says "Faxing something, eh?"

"Um.. yeah" I say.

"cool" he says.

I think, and this may be mean, that he doesn't socialize a lot, what with being a repairman.

So I need to call back the phone repair man, and since I cannot use my phone, I go to the phone by the fax machine, which is still by That Guy.

"Welcome to My World" he says and spread his hands open wide.

I pause and say "Thanks........" and then make my call.

I get off the phone and he says "So are they coming by to fix your phone?"

What I say is "they're looking into it" but what I'm thinking is "I'm sorry, but who are you? You're the copier repair man, and while that in itself is a totally respectable and fine business to be in, it really has nothing to do with the inner workings of this office and I don't need to report to you. Thank you for the concern, but please, don't bother."

So I go back to my desk, and he's working, talking to the copier, and he finishes he comes up, says it's working, has me sign a thingy, and then stands there, like it's the end of an awkward date.

"So, well....." he says, signed invoice in hand, near my desk, "it's done."

"Excellent, Thank you." I say, and continue to type.

he stands there.

"Yeah, it should be working now."

"yes, I'm sure it will work great. thank you."

"Yeah." 1---2----3-------4--------5------ " Yeah, it was broken."

"yes, yes it was."

"Yeah. it was." 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9..... "But it's working now, so, I guess I'll get going."

"Ok! Well thanks for fixing it!" keep typing. don't make eye contact. keep typing. damnit he's still standing there. Look up at his bright and pale face. "Thanks for coming by!"

....... and this goes on for too long. Finally he leaves and my boss says "Gosh, that was awkward." and I agree.

The best part is the bumper sticker on his car: "Warning! Invisible Dragon in Back Seat!"

That would explain the scull and crossbones ring, too, for I realize that That Guy must be in the S.C.A. !

And for those of you in the S.C.A.... well, I'm sure you're a decent citizen, but I'll still make fun of you.

I said all this to a coworker and the question was:

"I give - what does "S.C.A." mean? Stupid, complaining ass? "

I say:

oh no...

the SCA is the Society of Creative Anachronisms

aka The Renaissance Faire people

The people who go around saying things like "milady" "Thou" "Hither" and make up strange alias's for themselves like Lord Hathos, Keeper of the Secret Entrance to the 6th realm of Kuthoth, and My Wench, Isabelle, Mistress of Tathenfold.

The people who are into Dungeons and Dragons and graphic novels.

The people who collect wizards and crystals and wear cloaks in the rain and have fake daggers hanging off their black stone washed jeans.

The people who make chainmail by hand.

The people who put on suits of armor made from trash cans and joust in public parks on their bikes with broomsticks with steak knives on the end.

The people who were the only group the Theatre People made fun of.. cuz while we dressed in costumes for plays, at the end of the night, we get out of character, get out of costume, and go home in street clothes with our regular names.

frickin SCA.

frickin That Guy

My friend, later, commented that maybe his dragon was invisible because he was embarrassed to be seen with him.. and it's sad when even your dragon doesn't want to be seen in public with you.

So, In California I had this VW...

it was not a Bus, but an '88 Cabriolet (ole!)- red, convertable.. I loved that little thing.

So....
My now-husband, Pooky, had already left for work, and I was getting ready to leave (I worked a 10a-7p shift of a job) and I got in my car and it wouldn't start.

It did this every so often, and the way to fix it was to jump start it. Yes, I got it checked out later, and I got a new battery and everything, but that particular morning, things were still bad.

Pooky is at work, so he cannot jump the car, and so I try Plan B: walk down the cul-de-sac I lived in and knock on doors with cars in the driveways, jumper cables in hand, and ask strangers if I could get a jump start.

It sounds like a grand plan to me, Lil Miss I Grew Up In A Friendly Small College Town.

So I'm walking down the street and knocking on doors, but no one answers. Soon it occurs to me that the people here in the Silicon Valley (a few months before the tech bubble popped)have more cars than drivers, and a car being in the driveway doesn't necessarily mean someone is home. But I am optimistic.

I get to the end of the cul-de-sac and knock on one door and tentatively the door opens to reveal a woman in a bathrobe. She opens her inside door about 11", but leaves the metal scroll-work screen door Locked- not just closed, but Locked. Oh, and yes, she looks very confused and skeptical.

So there I am, all 22 bubbly years of me, and I say something like "Hi! I live up the street... car died... was wondering if I could get a jump start so I can go to work?"

and she says.....?


"No."


... and I pause. "What?" I say

"No," she says again, shaking her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea." and starts to close the door, but won't fully close it until she sees me leaving her property.

But I'm not leaving her property, much less her porch, because I am so stunned. Now, to be fair, I asked a yes-no question, but Jesus! Is "no" really an option there?!?

So I kinda shifted the weight on my feet and said ".. b-b-b-but I need to get to work. I mean, is this your car? Do you have keys for your car? Because all you have to do is pop the hood and turn on the ignition; I can do everything else."

Now she looks really panicked, cuz I, crazy killer that I am, just suggested she come out of her house, unlock her car, and get in to it, with me right there. God only knows what could happen then!!

But she said "...yes.. it's my car.. But I don't think my husband would approve." .... husband would approve?

And it's not like I'm this femi-nazi, altho I am fairly feministic, but that had nothing to do with my response. I was just irritated now.

"Ok," I say "Is your husband here?"

"No."

"Then how will he even know you turned on your car? You won't even be driving anywhere, so even if he checks the odometer, it won't have changed. Please! I need to get to work!" (.. cuz SOME of us Work, unlike others who stay at home ignoring pleas of help from melodramatic early 20-somethings!!!)

"...well.."

"Please! I've done this before and all you have to do is pop the hood and turn on the car when I say to!"

**** long pause ****

"ok." staying inside she closes the door, locking it behind her, goes and gets her keys, unlocks the front door, unlocks the screen, pops her head out and says "here" and hands me the keys.

ok- for someone who is so totally paranoid about life, she just did the stupidest thing ever by handing a stranger her keys. Luckily, I'm not that devious.

I soon realize that she will not step out of her house, so I say "Ok, wait here." and I set her car keys on the porch, run up the street, literally up, luckily for me, hop in my 55 lb. VW, take off the emergency break, put the car in neutral, and roll down the hill and slowly into her driveway.

I pop my hood, go get her keys, pop her hood, connect the cables, turn on her car, turn on my car, and wait for a minute or so. Then I disconnected the cables, turned off her car, leaving my car running, and I hand her back her keys, saying "Thank Y--" but the hand had already slipped back inside and the door closed, lock, lock, click, chain, lock.

... and then I drove to work, literally crying about how much I hated living in California.

We moved up north about 6 months later.

good times.

Interupting Cow

You all know that funny joke-- well, funny to me-- about the cow?

Knock Knock.
Who's there?
Interupting Cow.
Interupting Co---
MOOOOOOOO!!!

well, here's what I see... the word coworkers... COW(orker)S. I work with interupting cows

Today we were talking about how living in California sucks-- it's a nice general conversatin that many people here in the Pacific NW can join in on-- and one person (oo-- I need to get my cast of characters... so... um.. Shooter) Shooter was talking about how he lived in california, and how it sucked.

Me and... um... Donkey were agreeing with non verbal MMM's and nuh-Huh's and Shooter says "but one nice thing about california was this cactus garden I had".. more mmm's and nuh-huh's... and this is where everyone stops paying any attention to any through-line of conversation.

As I can recall, it went something like this:

Shooter: That was a nice garden.
Donkey: where in california?
Shooter: do I have a picture of it? I think I do.
Donkey: north of Sacremento isn't that bad
Me: Well, anywhere tha--
Donkey: Good old Sac!
Shooter: I think it's here..
Donkey: Sacremento's not that bad
Me: I was in Sacremento onc----
Shooter: Here it is! (starts showing lovely pictures on his phone of catcus)
Donkey: When I lived in california there wasn't really any--
Shooter: Check out that one!
Me: Wow, that's rea--
Donkey: But there was a neighbor who woul--
Shooter: But watering it cost so--
Donkey: But I never minded if they would--
Shooter: As oppsed to the 4 acres I have know where I will--
Me: We had a neighbor in california who would also do that kin--
Donkey: Well, what time is it?
Shooter: And here's my house
Me: Oh, yes, those are--
Shooter: And from the kitchen.
Me: In california I had this old VW--
Donkey: It's getting late
Me: In california I had this old VW--
Donkey: Are you ready to go?
Me: In california I had this old VW--
Shooter: Yeah, let's go.
Me: In california I had this old VW--
Donkey: Take care Peggy!
Shooter: Yeah, by Peggy!
(they leave)

.. and then I'm alone mouth kinda open and I say outloud after they drive away "THERE WAS A STORY ABOUT THE VW!! I WASN'T JUST SAYING THAT I HAD ONE!!"... then I kinda swing my feet back and forth on the platform I'm sitting on and mutter ".. it was a good story, too." but since I knew it already, I didn't bother to tell the empty room about it.

Knock Knock.
Who's there?
Interupting Cow.