Laughing All The Way

Saturday, November 29, 2008

desperately seeking sanity

My sister is pregnant. This is good. The family is getting their grand/great-grand child. My sister is getting her child. I am getting some peace.

Except I am throwing her a baby shower. Cross-country. And my family, they’re kind of being special about things. Specifically my stepmother and father. I don’t know about you, but when I get a request for mailing addresses for four specific people I don’t return a list of 14. I’ve already order the engraved invitations so ordering more is not happening. I’ve already sent out invites to all the other families and groups of friends and the RSVP date is in four weeks, so even if I lost my dang mind and ordered another printing of 20 invites, which would cost half as much as ordering 80 so kind of a lot of money there,  I wouldn’t have time to get them back to me and then addressed and mailed out. I did the next best thing.

I spent the day at stationery store buying card sets that match the paper of the invites. Bruce then scanned one of the original invites and I tweaked a little until the coloring was right. I then messed around in word and created reasonable facsimiles of the RSVP card and direction inserts. I then printed onto the card stock. You see, even though I had set aside four for the original list I didn’t think I could send engraved invitations to my four aunts and then something clearly different to their daughters. So I had to make invites for the whole list. My head is killing me and all I want to do is go to sleep, but the pile of laundry calls as does Bruce’s very untidy apartment.

This whole matter is only complicated by the fact that my step-mother has not sent me a list for her side. I’ve already sent her invite and invites to some of her niece’s. I specifically mentioned that I needed five addresses from her side of the family. So it’s kind of strange that the list I got only included my father’s side. I’ve managed to whitepage.com two of the people I needed and I sent one of the niece’s to her mom with an apology note (I hated getting invites at my mom’s house long after I moved out). That leave two more people from my step-mother’s family. Everyone else is going to get invites and being talking about the baby shower at Christmas, which is historically held at my father’s place so that is going to be really awkward for the two females from that side that didn’t get an invite. I’ve already resorted to calling 411 to get their phone number to call them directly to get their address, no luck.

I am dealing with all this in a strategic manner. I left a message on my father’s voicemail saying: “I found a few addresses, but I still needed two more. I’ve already mailed out the other ones and I know my sister really wanted to see her aunt and cousin and I wouldn’t want them to feel like they were not invited.” I hope this motivates my family to do the right things. Unfortunately do to all the personality disorders that are running rampant right now, I don’t know if that is even a possibility. 

I’m not sure what the interaction is going to be, but if there is a reason for what’s going on, I am going to make my father and step-mother tell my sister directly. I am not taking the heat for this.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

This has been my week

I have had one of those weeks. You know, the type of week where you look around for the hidden camera.

This is part one of my wonky week,

this is part two,

and this is part three.

Part one was found when I went looking for a knee brace. Running on the treadmill is killing my right knee. I was innocently minding my metaphorical p’s and q’s when I happened upon what can only be described as the wackiest thing in the knee brace section.

Part two was found when I was whipping my way through target to get some new socks for the gym (see part one).

Part three was found when I was trying to make my way home after a very long week of political fire-cracker work week. As always I am keeping the work stuff to myself, but needless to say I find little humor in my very first San Francisco protest (by proxy because it wasn’t like I was in the actual protest, more on my way through said protest) blocking my way into my apartment. Bastard bleeding liberals need to not impede my ability to lay on my floor weeping from exhaustion.

Bruce and I are off to San Diego for the weekend. Hopefully I can find something to pack for the cocktail reception on Saturday. Otherwise I am going to have to hide in my room and that would be weirdly antisocial. Can I wear jeans to a cocktail reception?

Monday, October 06, 2008

With A Bang

I’m back.

So much has happened.

First there are some blog-cleaning activities that must occur. My email is being overrun by bots sending me ever so helpful information on a variety of narcotics/penile enhancements/opportunities to inherit a fortune from a terminally ill and paralyzed distant relative (no really, it actually said: “it wasn’t so bad after the stroke, but the chemotherapy is quite difficult to take”).

Second the people upstairs are having sex. Slowly.

Third you must know I’ve been cheating on you. I’ve been exchanging emails with someone in the city. I’ve been exhausting all my endlessly funny stories on him. I think I will just go through my emails and paste them in (at least that way you can read all the opportunities I’ve had to make my fortune on the back of someone so close to death).

Fourth I have a wedding this weekend in LA. A retreat next weekend in San Diego. A baby christening the weekend after that. A wedding in Georgia the weekend after that. Then I plan on sleeping for a month.

Fifth Natalie will be mad if end here so I shall soldier on. Natalie also has had the opportunity to soak up my funny goodness. But the things I say to make Nat laugh are not really all that appropriate for this forum. Mostly because I will say something about someone, and then that someone will read it here, and the someone will be like: “Hey bitch! I have feelings.” And then I will be all: “Shut up whore.” This will go on for awhile until one of us passes out from lack of oxygen and we will wake up feeling all awkward or something. And then things will never be the same.

Sixth my apartment is looking pretty supa-fly.

Seventh I don’t know why I am writing out the numbers. It’s annoying me. But I am too lazy to go back and change this. Or add the correct suffix/punctuation.

Eighth my clothes are fitting awfully snug this month. Maybe it’s time to get over the fact that I had some of my toenails removed and get back into the gym. I just looked at some photos from when I first moved out here. I was fit! No really. What the hell happened? Let me answer that rhetorical question: Bruce. Bruce happened. Fucking comfort eating.

Ninth my yearly review went really well last month. I was given the highest possible raise. Yes: 5.3%. Word. Now I have actual projects that I own and people ask me actual questions that I need to be able to actually answer promptly. Whoever set me up in this con needs to be beaten. When I interviewed for this job no one ever said that there would be questions.

Tenth bitches I made it! An even multiple of five. Thank you and good night.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Ode to Billy Joe

I AM having the time of my life.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

To tell the truth

There seems to be a thing where the spam bots are getting smarter and leaving both comments and track backs. I’ve started disabling the track back ability on all my posts. And when the insanity gets to me, I disable the comments. It’s not that I don’t want the comments. There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to why certain posts attract so much attention from fake bloggers, but they do.

So, if I’ve turned off comments on a post it’s not because I don’t want to hear what you’ve got to say. Feel free to comment away on other posts.

I am now going to go lay down and try to sleep, I’ve got a hell of a day left to this week, and I promise at the end of it all I will share with you the story of what happens when seven strangers live in a house…no wait, that’s the wrong intro…what happens with 8 members of my family descend on Seattle to visit my mom and her current husband.

People really do stop being polite.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

sated and satire

Soooooooooooooooo

I went to Texas a few weeks ago. What, you expect prompt updates? Please bitches. The mood had yet to strike.

Texas was fun. I hung out with 19 year-olds with fake ids. No really, that was fun. I must have been a little bit like those kids back in the days of my illegal drunkitude. I also hung out with 30-somethings with real ids. That was also fun. Mostly because we found the most excellent bar eva that served food late and played music that made me happy. (Oh yeah, hanging out with 19 year-olds meant that I knew one song throughout the whole night.) But really the best part of the whole weekend, and there were many wicked moments over the length of the weekend, was the moment at brunch when the band started to play. The sign on the door said Gospel music and my friend and I were expecting the very best baptist choir that Texas had to offer. Imagine our surprise at the blue-grass gospel that accompanied our brunch.

The one thing that Sunday brunch with blue-grass gospel made me realize (no, not that I am a sinner and that Jesus will walk me home, although that is what the lead singer would have me believe) was that I really miss living in the city. A point driven home when my friend and I had a few hours to waste and decided to catch a movie. The movie was hilarious but the theater was a gem. The served more than your usual popcorn and sour patch kids, they brought us a huge bowl of popcorn, warm cookies and ice cream. Also, if the mood should strike, a burger and a beer. Have no fear, my friend made sure to avail herself of the beer.

The need to move back to a city is hampered by a number of factors, like the car I just leased and my job that is squarely located in the suburbs. But in the end, I’ve told Bruce that it’s really a matter of my happiness and sanity, so I am going to have start looking for a place in the city. Of course this is a tall order because I need somewhere affordable (dang car payment), a secure place to park my car (no street parking for my dang car), and place that is one of three specific neighborhoods that are located next to the highway that would take me straight to my job. I know that finding the right place will take time, and that’s cool, but I would like to be there in the next few months.

Bruce keeps voicing his dislike for the idea of living in the city, and that’s cool. This is not the swan song for Bruce and Some Girl. I am just making the best of a situation and finding my way into living the best life I can in a place where I haven’t really found my footing. The only way I will ever make new friends is if I move. I can’t force Bruce to leave the suburbs but I can make the best decision for my life and that is moving to the city.

The decision was easy to make, now all I have to do is find a place that meets my requirements, and of course that’s always the hard part.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Eastered

So The Great White Way was fine and for my first business trip ever, was mostly easy. There was a missed flight due to no fault of my own but other than that, I survived being a grown-up. Then my second conference was okay as well. My co-workers are doing their best to make my job as difficult as possible and make really unreasonable suggestions in how they want our research data to be presented. But it’s cool because I made it entirely clear that I wasn’t doing the presentation so if someone in the audience had a question the presenter would be on their own to explain things. I think that they will come to the belief that the data should be shown in as simple way as possible.

The way that this last week went, next week is going to be a beast. The week after I head to super northern California for yet another conference. As much as I like a job that sends me to interesting place, I am almost burned out on this. I always thought I would love being a consultant and travel weekly to a customer site, and maybe I would if it were consistent, but this traveling for a day to be somewhere for a day to spend another day traveling home stuff kind of sucks.

The flip side is that the job itself is going really well. I tend not to write too much about the job but not because funny things don’t happen there, it’s just a different atmosphere than my last job so the “funny things” are much more contextual. Like the last funny thing was that I made the menopausal admin feel bad. See, without a huge contextual story that is totally not funny. And when I say funny, I mean not funny for her. And I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong the day I walked into the reception area of my office and asked if anyone else smelled that odor. (I described it as that smell of old lettuce. Like when you get a sandwich and eat only half and then eat the other half in a few days. The lettuce wilts and gets a very distinct taste. That taste was what I smelled). After spending about three minutes sniffing the air, the admin (aforementioned menopausal admin) said she couldn’t smell it, but she had just eaten her sandwich in the conference room but that it was a freshly made sandwich. Come to two days later when the analyst who sits next to the admin told me that apparently as a side affect of menopause our admin is secreting an odor out of her skin and two days before my odor sniffing adventure the other analyst and our boss had a similar conversation wherein the our boss who can’t smell because of a cold asked the analyst to sniff her (perfectly acceptable in our office) to confirm or deny that our boss was the source of the smell. When the analyst said that our boss was in the clear, the admin asked if it was her. The analyst innocently leaned in to sniff the admin and drew back quickly and was like: “um, kind of.” Unfortunately the way she drew back was more in line with the way people pull back when they open a container of rotten food, you know, all dramatic like. So you can now imagine how unfortunate my whole, “Do you smell that?” thing was.

So I call that funny, because when I was telling Bruce the whole thing from start to finish, the only thing I could do was laugh. I mean the whole thing was really unfortunate. And I totally feel bad knowing what I know now, because our admin is a nice person and is just doing her job.

Speaking of Bruce, who does not entirely find all my work stories as funny as I do, but totally thought the “Do you smell that” story was funny, he’s doing well enough. He’s got some weird pain things going on right now because of a tetanus shot he got on Friday. You see after the whole episode that meant I had to bring him to the hospital I made him get a complete physical (hence the tetanus shot). It turns out that the diet we’re on because Bruce felt fat has worked wonders on him, Bruce is now 5 pounds above his ideal weight. I wondered where I was at in the scheme of things and was rudely informed that I am not just overweight, I am technically considered obese. Damn, that is not good. Bruce seems even more motivated than ever, because those 5 pounds are totally weighing him down (seriously, why is he like this?) and wants to join a swish gym. I’m all in, because unless you’ve forgotten, I am technically obese.

Other than all that, things are so normal. I’ve taken to dropping the word marriage into every third conversation, least he forgets what I’m looking for here. Just yesterday we went to lunch with his sister and I told her that if Bruce didn’t propose in a timely manner I would move into a certain neighborhood in San Francisco. Bruce just rolled his eyes because he’s become use to my tactics of mentioning the fact that he hasn’t proposed marriage yet. His sister laughed but I am sure she will now apply gentle pressure to Bruce, mostly by telling her parents to pressure Bruce to propose. We’ll see what happens today at Easter lunch with his family.

And one final point: who finds Flavor Flav attractive? No really stop it VH-1.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Dream Boat

So 29 is looking good (Thanks Amy, Tanya and Carrie- who wished me a Happy MLK day instead and that makes for such an interesting aside I just had to share). I was afraid that I would turn into some old person. I guess that happens next year. When I turn 29. Like I said, 29 is looking good.

I’ve been out buying a car because really, it’s time. Bruce has been very giving with his time and his car, but sometimes we need to be in different places at the same time. So being the very mature 29 year-old adult that I am, I started looking on the Internet. After all, the Internet knows everything. I figured that this is the time to buy exactly what I want as I have no child (other than Bruce) and no pets (other than the fish).

What I want, now there is the real problem. I went on test drives and have determined that the Mustang is what my 18 year-old self wants to drive. Unfortunately my 18 year-old self is not the one paying for the car. The 29 year-old self is and she wants a back seat that will have enough space for the yearly Christmas shopping extravaganza.

Cars have been eliminated for being too boring, too grown-up, too big, too cheap (yes, there is such a thing), and too ugly. The only cars that remain in the line-up are, well, scary. I’m frightened that the cars that I want are saying something about me and my lifestyle. These cars tell everyone how much I earn and where I live. These are the cars of suburban dwelling republicans. Yes, I said it, SUBURBS! (I bet you thought I was going to be sad because my car is a republican, I’m not, to each their own).

I can’t imagine buying something that doesn’t have every thing I want (power everything, sun roof, leather, and a partridge in a pear tree) and there happens to be one car that comes with everything I want (although it seems that I will be out of luck with that partridge in a pear tree). The base model of this car includes what I want is exactly equal to the other car I like…once I add all the other things in to get the car living in my imagination. Sooooo, here I am sitting here perusing the internet for the car of my dreams and hoping that buying a car does not make me yet any older and extremely poor.

Old Old Old. Yep. Old.

Oh and about to be poor.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

So this is how it’s going to be

Bruce and I are back. Being at work this week kind of kicked my ass. Monday was spent staring off into the distance and being confused by my phone ringing.

Tuesday was not much better but at least I was able to follow what people were saying in conversation.

Wednesday would have been fine except for the insanity of all the other people. Both my boss and myself felt like we had been hit by the Crazy Train.

Thursday, today, is probably going to be very very very very slow. I can just feel it. My normal morning commute of 45 minutes took over an hour and when I arrived at work I realized I had nothing to do.

But what you all really want to know is What I did on my Christmas Vacation (by Some Girl).

Bruce and I agonized over where we should go. Bali, Fiji, Tahiti, Bangkok (haha, I said cock), Dubai, Sydney, Hawaii were all rejected mostly by Bruce but I nixed Hawaii and Sydney. After finally waiting so long that we couldn’t find a hotel with a room open long enough we ended up just outside of Belize City, Belize (look it up, I’ll wait………).

So there was sun and stuff. Most importantly, though, there were iguanas. We named ours Stripy. Sometimes there was a second one hanging out near our cabana, we called him Other Stripy. Stripy seemed really civilized, I’m guessing he’s used to the resort guests getting all up into his grill, so we have a billion and 1 pictures of Stripy.

Also there were hammocks. I love me a good hammock; Bruce does not like his feet leaving the earth. After ten days of trying to get Bruce to laying in a hammock with me, he finally acquiesced on our last day. I chose a hammock that I saw someone else using earlier that week. The someone using the hammock was “well-fed” and thus I thought the hammock would very easily hold us both. Alas Babylon, just as Bruce and I were getting comfy one of the ropes holding the hammock up slid down the tree. Slid is such a graceful word with the implication that there was a gentle sliding motion, what we did was more along the lines of falling on our collective asses. Bruce may never believe me again when I say that something is lots of fun and won’t hurt.

There were fun things though, we fished, snorkeled, walked up a Mayan temple that brought us 100 yards straight up to see over the jungle trees, swam, kayaked, and generally hung out. This was Bruce’s first vacation outside of America and his first ever at a resort. Bruce has now been introduced to the wonder that is the all inclusive vacation and by George, I think he likes it. We’ve already started talking about our next big vacation that will take place in about two years.

Bruce and I spend so much time alone, usually we are alone together for the entire weekend that I knew we would be okay on vacation together, but still I worried that there would be a point when I tried to smother Bruce with a pillow or better yet, throw him into the lagoon with the Crocodiles and hope that nature would take its course. I should have known better, if there is one thing Bruce and I do well together it’s solitude.

And because we are going in reverse order, I will now present a list of things I received from Bruce for Christmas: A back massager that attaches to a work chair (or in my case is propped up on the couch while I watch TV), a set of exacto knives, a laptop base for my lap, paper cutter. Eventually I will be getting a new cell phone (I’m leaning toward a blackberry). Bruce, the lucky man that he is, received a lightsabre for the Wii and a piece of art for his new office at work (a decorated and signed lunchbox by Rosanne Cash that was part of a charity auction for the NYC Food Bank). Eventually he will be getting a new watch (I’m just waiting for him to pick one).

And let’s see…before that, Bruce was named partner at his law firm. Yeah, he’s finally a partner. That means some good things and some bad things, but mostly it means nothing is really going to change.

I’m off to go ice my carpal tunnel syndrome away, smell ya later.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Aha, Take THAT!

So this is how it’s going to be. Me writing an entry to keep Amy from writing mean haikus about me. Me not writing an entry for two weeks and then finding dirty limericks written about me on the bathroom stalls at work. Me writing three entries in a row and then nothing until someone threatens to send me a Gucci purse full of Anthrax.

Look, there is only so much that I can do here people. And writing is kind of boring right now. I have much more important things to do with my day, like count the ceiling tiles above my cubical or think about who would win in a fight: Mighty Mouse or Spider Man? Sure, I could write a blog post about the doctor who hit on me while I was running her orientation. Please call me LLCoolG. Or maybe I could talk about how upset I was when my boss counseled me about appropriate clothing for work because someone at work thought I was showing too much cleavage (and if by too much cleavage they meant none, then I totally agree, otherwise stop staring at my boobs you stupid freak).

I know there are things I could write about but really things just aren’t funny the way they use to be. There is no way to make trying on bathing suits in the dead of winter funny (Bruce and I leave for a vacation that takes place south of the border but not in Mexico in three days). Also not funny is the smashed passenger side window and stolen GPS, the fact that my apartment is never totally clean, and that I seem to slowly be gaining even more weight.

Of course there are the other things, you know the good things, like the fact that my hair has won back my favor and devotion, my shoe collection has grown to a new level, and I haven’t killed Bruce yet. And even with all the crap that work has brought with it, I am doing well there and have begun to learn the names of people I see daily. Eventually I might even become friends with some of my co-workers, baby-steps people, baby-steps.

All of this leads me to believe that my life is nothing more than normal. Ordinary. Run of the mill. Heck, I even live in the suburbs. So like I said in the beginning, writing about my life now is boring for me. Feel free to blame Bruce he’s the one who made me sober up and straighten out.

Oh, but as it’s about that time, I thought I would tell you one funny story that I haven’t before shared. A few years ago for some sort of gift giving event, I gave my brother-in-law a picture frame. And in that frame, was a picture of me and his younger brother. At the time it didn’t occur to me that it takes a special kind of person to give a picture of themselves to someone else as a gift. Now, whenever I think of it, I kind of laugh. But even better than the fact that it makes me laugh is the fact that even with my new insight about the type of person who gives such a gift, I would still give someone a picture of me as a gift. I’m still that special type of person bitches.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

A Nickel For A Kiss

Bruce and I went to Vegas last weekend. We gambled and won…a whole $69.75. We also saw some airplanes and Mama Mia. We also ate some food.

Okay, now that all the boring stuff is out of the way, I can now share the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my entire life EVER.

As I tripped my drunk ass self from Mandalay Bay to the Excalibur, I realized the my drunk ass self needed more gin. (Oh lordy how many nights have started with the phrase “needed more gin”, which leads me to the next post I am planning in my brain.) I sniffed out the closest gin serving counter, which in Vegas is much harder than one would think what with all the nasty ass smelling gamblers. Note to gamblers: take your stanky ass selves back to your room and take a shower once every three days. Also, stop smoking like 50 year-old truckers.

Wait, where was I. Oh yeah, sucking back another G&T. The bar I found was a lounge, in the truest sense of the word, and included an actual Vegas Lounge Act. I only caught the very end of the set but I made myself comfortable and waited for the next round of something excellent. I was rewarded in the following ways, including but not limited to:

A white guy at the bar with a really pretty girl
The white guy at the bar doing a combination of the white guy shuffle and a crotch pump at the pretty girl he was with (yes, AT, not WITH)
The white guy at the bar dragging the pretty girl onto the dance floor and being awesomely drunk and dancing
The song Sweet Home Alabama
A man in a wife beater doing the Achy Breaky Heart to Sweet Home Alabama
A man, that was dressed like a woman singing the song U + UR Hand
Drunk guy dancing clubesquey to the man dressed as a woman singing U + UR Hand
A man in a wife beater who previously danced the Achy Breaky Heart to Sweet Home Alabama smacking himself on both ass cheeks as he left the lounge

I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t remember what else happened. What I can remember was waking up in a hotel room that smelled like an ashtray, damn Vegas smokers, and feeling like I was going to hurl. I like to believe that sensation was simply a reaction to the smell of smoke.

Some more happened, but nothing else was nearly as entertaining as that. And that is the story of what I did last weekend. The End.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

The fish seem to be better today

This morning I fed them with the light on and they ate in their normal chumming way. They are very violent eaters; they swim around and dart at the food and churn up the water causing all the food particles to swirl around. It’s like they know how to make it look like they work hard for their food even though they are the laziest fish in the world and we hand feed them daily. Bruce theorized that they hang out underneath the filter because that is the place with the least amount of current and therefore they expend the least amount of energy moving their fins to stay in place.

I feel like they were conning me into feeling bad for them and their unnatural fear of the light. I’ve decided as punishment for their manipulative behavior I am no longer going to prevent Bruce from standing along side the fish tank and screaming “HELLO FISHIES!”

Bruce, for his part, is of no help in maintaining the wild jungle that is the fish tank. He is on his way to another country of the Asian persuasion. Yet again he is flying business class to a land that is far, far away and he will come back with annoying gestures and habits. He also better come back with something of the duty free variety that sparkles in the sun. For my part I am supportive, as ever, with regards to Bruce’s travel as the more he’s away the more I can justify buying the new designer bag I want that costs the equivalent of what I spent on rent last year.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Bruce and I went on a bear hunt.

Carrie Patch got married in the woods. There were bears. Bruce and I did what we could to avoid the bears. Specifically, we stayed out of the woods. Also, I drank. I don’t know if that’s on the list of official ways to avoid bears but seeing as I didn’t see a bear I am going to add that to MY official list of ways to avoid bears.

On the way to the bear hunt I realized that my plan of packing on Wednesday night for a Wednesday night flight was a bad idea. Mostly because when I landed I made note of all the things missing. A list ensues.

Shampoo
Conditioner
Curling Iron (size small)
Jewelry
Earphones
Ipod
Clean jeans
Razor
Soap

All these things were purchased at the local Rite-Aid (except the jeans which I washed in the sink). It turns out that it was a good thing I forgot all these things because the shopping trip gave us a chance to escape the Bates Motel. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention we were staying at the Bates Motel in the middle of the woods.

Suffice it to say, Bruce and I had our share of the scary outdoors for this month.

(As always the wedding was great, the bride beautiful and my eyelashes fake. In my head I live in the Valley of the Dolls.)

Friday, September 14, 2007

Oh God

This past week was the first week of the rest of my life. My new place of employment has a strict no internet policy. I can safely use about 15 minutes a day without too much recourse. Living life without google at my finger tips is a life that’s just not worth living.

I spent the day working out the formula for a series of standard deviations to be put into about 50 excel spread sheets with six categories on each sheet. Seriously, throw some numbers at me and I can hit you with the 3-sigma pretty quickly. I have high hopes for this job. I also have high hopes that I will suddenly become independently wealthy. Too much?

Today I realized that I can now share some of the fun things from my old job. Like the time I had to fire an employee. This crazy mother fucker does the big nasty of healthcare and violates a patient’s confidentiality. I over-hear the whole shebang and report him. This was not exactly our star employee and after many years of write-ups and warnings this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. And speaking of camels, this employee once came in dressed for Halloween as an Arab. Yeah. He wrapped his head in a white cloth with a black band around his head and called himself an Arab. And it seriously took three more years to can his ass. Good times.

Some how I don’t think they dress up for Halloween at my new place of employment. Maybe that’s for the best.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

And Scene

Okay, I’m back. But I’m leaving for London for a week. So haha.

Well, let’s see, today I received a job offer. I maintained my cool, and was very casual in my acceptance. Who am I kidding, I almost humped the caller’s leg (I know there are technical difficulties with that, but I’m going for the visual).

Yay work. I like money. I like a reason to leave the house daily. And thankfully the workplace is always an endless font of blogging juicy goodness.

I hope no one thought that my blog was dead (Atizz I may have broken your streak as a blog killer).

Okay, bye.