To Infect or Not to Infect…. February 29, 2012

PIC and I do pretty much everything together.  Unfortunately for her hubby, and whatever man decides he’s brave enough to veer into my crazy life, that means we also get sick together.

Beginning Friday, our assent into the depths of what honest to God is the worst head-cold-flu-oh-god-now-its-in-my-chest-please-kill-me-now I’ve ever had.  We were supposed to have a wild weekend and spend Sunday night having an Oscar party.  The plague had other plans for us.  PIC and I did rally. In fact we managed to put on tiaras and throw out our best fashionista advice, albeit laced with cold meds, coughing and tissues.

On Monday, I came to work because I’m loyal stupid.  By Tuesday, I sounded like the crypt keeper on a really bad day.  My sweetheart of a boss proceeded to reprimand me on the etiquette of sneezing and coughing.  I just nodded.

Yes, that’s how sick I am.  I have no fight left in me.

PIC’s day was even worse.  She had to do CPR certification while not being able to breathe.  Pray tell how you do that?  PIC figured it out best she could.  But then she had to do Heimlich maneuver training. She turned to the person and said, “If you squeeze me, I’ll wheeze.”  This sent me into my own wheezing fit of laughter….and then spawned an idea.

I should totally infect my boss - AND beast!

PIC agreed with me, because she is truly my bestie and partner in all crimes.

So, I confess.  I did it.  I came in early and hacked, sneezed and any other gross germ spreader I could think of in their respective office areas.

I realize that means I am going to hell.  I realize that my karma took a massive hit.  But…. I also realize that this will at least provide me some satisfaction while PIC and I develop our plan to Gaslight the hell out of my boss.

Thank God this blog is anonymous.   I feel like I just hit the confessional and I’m now absolved.

Cold Med Induced Advice of the Day: This year, specifically today, is a bonus day.  Do something fun.  Do something memorable.  So far all I did was infect my boss and coworker with the plague.  I should probably aim higher for the rest of the day…..

Happy Leap Day!

Sushi and Rum Don’t Mix February 24, 2012

Happy Friday!

PIC and I had an outing last night where I embarrassed the hell out of myself, had a mental run in with a celebrity and PIC almost had an out of body experience.  Enjoy.

Yesterday I saved all my calories for dinner.  That means I ate a banana and two saltine crackers all day.  I know that’s bad.  Please don’t lecture me…I am only telling you because it is imperative for the rest of the story.

Per usual, when I arrive at PICs house, we have a beverage.  This time we decided in lieu of our wine, we’d try rum.  It was delightful, and more rum than coke.  Nevertheless, I was certainly more tipsy than I should have been off one beverage.  I needed food.  At this point we go in search of sushi.

At the sushi restaurant, I order one of pretty much everything I love.  And I ate shoveled the food in my face.

PIC: Um sweetie, you should probably breathe between bites.

Me: You are right.  I’m eating like a starving child from China.

It was one of those moments where you HEAR the words coming out of your face, but you can’t pull them back in. If the soundtrack of my life was playing, this would have  been a point where you hear that needle dragging across the record sound…vrrrrp….then complete silence.

I was wide eyed even before I completed my horribly offensive statement…especially since I’m usually a very genteel, southern sweetheart. (Note: this is a favorite place of mine and PIC.  All of the employees? They are all related and all from China.)

I turn about ten shades of red.  PIC looks at me wide-eyed.  I am mortified and I realize the sushi chef is RIGHT UP on me.  What do you do? There is no coming back from that! You do not want to piss off a sushi chef.  They wield sharp knives with amazing precision.  Plus, have you been even semi-ill off sushi?  It’s the worst….we’ll get back to that.

Me: Um. I. Ah shoot! I didn’t mean that!!! Um. I meant Africa!

PIC looked at me like that was no better (she raised her eyebrow at me…just the one…her eyebrows say more than most people- uber talent) because there was an African American couple sitting nearby.

Me: Um. SHIT. I. I BLAME THE RUM!!!

PIC laughs at me and continues to eat.  I shovel in silence.

After my mortification, I decided to go to the bathroom.  There, I run into a celebrity that has relocated to my town.  She’s randomly relevant so I won’t use her name.  Mostly because one of you may love her and I don’t wish to offend.  The problem is that I can’t stand her.

I’ve known her for years, running the same circles, hanging out… I even know her kids.  The problem?  The bitch pretends she doesn’t know me EVERY time.  Seriously y’all.  It’s not like I met her once and think she should remember.  I’ve met her more times than I can count.  I’ve been to her house.  I’ve been drunk with her…seriously.  I wish I had been less ethical because TMZ would have loved that stuff….  I’ve shared a car with her ALONE.  I’ve addressed envelopes to a charity benefit with her and one other person for eight hours straight.  Her kids? They know me.  They say hi.  But the mom? No.  Can’t. Stand. Her.

So Miss High and Mighty is at the sushi place with her kids.  I smile, wave.  The kids wave.  The mom? She sees me, starts to smile, then looks away like I just completely wasted her time.  Flew all over me.  I scowled and envisioned the news:

Crazy lady attacks celebrity after offending sushi chef.  News at 11.

I decide to compose myself and I huff and puff back to PIC, where I flop down and rehash the story.

PIC: She’s just jealous cause you are younger.

Me: I love you.

See.  With one phrase, PIC defuses my mental time bomb.

Then PIC had to go to the bathroom.  She comes back and tells the following.  Note: PIC is in the early stages of kicking off some bug/virus.

PIC: OMG. Someone has E.D.

Me: OMG! Is it you? We ride! I grab the purse and start to rise.

PIC: pulls me down NO!!!  It’s a kid.  I walked into the bathroom and he was very much in the midst of E.D.

Me: EWWWWW.

PIC: He was explicitly explaining it to his mom. He said it looks like…

Me: Oh gross no!

PIC goes on to share what he said, but I will spare you.  I was violently ill and all I kept thinking was, “What did that kid do to piss off the chef?  Whatever he did, I did way worse.”

PIC: I think I left my body for a moment.  I couldn’t leave  fast enough. Thank God I can’t smell a thing….but my ears work just fine.

Me: give her that ew, gross, I might die look.

The checks come, we eat our mints.  Then, the sushi chef gives us each an orange thing with a toothpick.  After insulting him, I can’t refuse.  So I bite big.

You know how bad it is to drink OJ after you brush your teeth?  Well, this was worse.  Immediately my eyes fill with tears, my cheeks turn inside out and I feel a little nauseous.  I quickly look at PIC who is doing the same.

PIC: Oh. Dear. God. she says under her breath

Me: Just shovel it in. We have to.

PIC: looks wary Well, ok then.

We cringe and eat and cry a little, but we get it all down.  Later, when my stomach was doing flip flops, I would have bet my life that the sushi chef did something to that orange. I don’t blame him.  But I do worry about PIC since she was an innocent bystander.  I have to call her and see if she how she is.

Moral: Don’t drink rum on an empty stomach.  It leads to chaos.

It Is Totally Worth It February 23, 2012

I am probably going to get fired.  And you know what….it will totally be worth it.  I’m going to need your help though.

My boss is, shall we just say, special.  This week’s conversations have been to add an entirely new job onto my plate; tell me I need to plan on being oncall 24/7 for two months in the immediate future; then to inform me that I would not be getting a raise….nor added time off…and that I should help out Beast because, she’s overwhelmed.

A little vein exploded in my head and all I could think was OVERWHELMED?!!  MY ASS.  Since when does online shopping constitute overwhelmed? Perks of being the boss’ kid….I’M OUT!!!!

Have you seen the movie Gaslight?  Well.  If you haven’t, check this out: click here to read up on the movie Gaslight.  I’m twisted, I know.

Here’s the part where I’m pretty sure I’m at the very least going to hell over, if I’m not fired.  My boss has lost her husband.  I wish I could tell you he was a lovely man.  I wish I could tell you we all miss him.  This is not the case.  In a post to come in the future, perhaps I can share the terrible things that he did to me which included:

1. throwing a muffin at my head
2. leaving me stranded at a Kinko’s
3. making a poor kid AT said Kinko’s wet his pants.  Seriously y’all.
4. telling me I was illiterate and incompetent
5. telling me he didn’t know why I was put on this earth because all I did was suck it dry

Yes.  As you can see, he’s a charmer.  Was.  Rest his soul.

So.  My boss has it in her head that she can communicate with him.  She has decided that they were connected on a spiritual plane in past lives, and will connect again.  Indeed, they communicate via telepath or some such person each month.  Everyone, all the upper staff included, think she’s bat-shit-bananas.  And…I’m totally going to exploit this.

I want to Gaslight her.  She’s either going to think she is crazy, or that she’s right and her dead husband CAN communicate with her….and then who knows.  At the least, I’m entertained and looking for a new job.  At best, she’s happier because she is reconnecting with her dead husband and PERHAPS I’ll get a raise because the powers that be have deemed I need to step in.

So….what do I do? I have no idea, but I know I have to shake it up here or go crazy.  Thank God it’s a PIC night.  I am sure we will plot.  And drink.  The best ideas come out of a wine slushie right?

Taylor February 14, 2012

Y’all know my PIC.  Well, she shares the same first name with my other good friend…which is wildly confusing to most of the men in my life for some reason…and my mom…but I think she’s just half listening to me…..maybe the men are too…. but I digress.

I guess I should probably introduce her to you guys because although not as epic as PIC outings…. we have had a few interesting, blogworthy moments.   For this blog, she shall forevermore be known as Taylor.

Taylor is one of those girls that is a little polly-pocket of sass.  You don’t mess with her….. she’s all of 5 feet tall, 115 lbs, but she’ll take you down – in her pearls and cardigan.  She is sweet and southern, with an accent to match.  She is the kind of lady who is quiet and reserved until she knows you….or has vodka…but that’s a whole other set of stories.

Taylor was one of my friends that I lost to the unfortunate debacle of speedbump.  (That’s what PIC calls Paul.  I’ll have to ask her if it’s ok to say why.  But yes.  He was a speedbump in my otherwise beautiful life. I’m over him and happily so.) I’m so very happy Taylor is back in my life.  And… I am happy we still wear the same size because she has fabulous taste and I’ve missed her closet as well.

Today, Taylor texted me to see if I had plans with anyone for Valentine’s Day.  Here’s what happened:

Taylor:  Do you have any V-day plans?

Me: IDK.  Maybe.  No one special though. You?

Taylor: Yes. My guy is cooking dinner for me.  Are you ok?

Me: Oh totally.  Regardless of what I do, it’ll be better than last year… or the year before where I was asked to leave the restaurant because speedbump acted like an asshole.

Taylor: He’s a turd.

Me: Yeah he is.

Taylor: And you know what they say about turds?

Me: Um….that if you act like a turd, you have to go lay in the backyard.

Taylor: That is SO much funnier than “they stink”.  hahaha

Me: I try.

Taylor: Paul is a turd, turds belong in the backyard…therefore Paul belongs in the backyard with the rest of the turds.

Me: Who isn’t cleaning up their turds? Why are there so many in my backyard? I don’t even own a dog!!!  I need a sign that says NO TURD DUMPING.  I HAVE PLENTY.

Taylor: hahahaha.  I’m dying…..

Me: I love you darlin.  Have a great v-day with the boy…. and I promise to stay turd free.

Taylor: Bout time!  But if the turd is pretty, I know you.  All bets are off.

Me: I’m rolling my eyes at you. I don’t know the emoticon for that.  I swear on my unborn child….no more turds.  If I falter, you and PIC and behead me.

Taylor: Harsh, but suitable punishment.

Me: bahahaha

So… my dearest readers….please be Turd Free.  And if you see what asshat keeps dumping unwanted turds in my backyard?  Tackle her and hold her til I get there.

Love,

Me

 

On Love. February 13, 2012

Over the weekend I got into a debate with my mom about why people do stupid things for love.  It was centered around Valentine’s Day and veered into Whitney Houston’s death.  In that moment with my mom, I realized I was thisclose to being a Whitney not once but twice in my life.  It’s a deeply personal set of stories, but here goes.

The first mistake I made was a boy named Nick.  He was a model…and he was brilliantly smart.  I was young, innocent, impressionable and totally smitten.  He was my first everything.  First date, first kiss, first time I really really really lied to my parents, first person I had a drink with, first heartbreak and a million other firsts.

I was crazy about him in a way that still perplexes me.  And….he was horrible for me.  He introduced me to a world of excess and destructive behavior.  I overlooked every basic rule I was taught just because I really thought if I loved him hard enough, we would overcome and endure any calamity.  Nick and I were miserable apart, but he knew…oddly at such a young age…that we were terrible together.   I did too, but I couldn’t admit it. He was selfish.  I was selfless.  There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him, nothing I couldn’t rationalize away.  But, Nick loved me enough to know he didn’t love me enough.  It’s a horrible realization, but one that saved my life I’m sure.  Turns out? Saved his too.

After a long series of break ups and make ups, the final straw was a trip to NYC to visit Nick.  Suffice it to say what should have been a most special night ended abruptly with me turned out to the city streets alone.  A girl from a town population 1500 in a fully unfamiliar megacity….no one knew where I was…and a baby at that…. its a miracle I survived the evening.  Alone on a curb, I bargained with God.  If He would let me get home safe, I’d never put myself in that situation again.  It took every ounce of courage and strength I had to pick myself and leave.  I never looked back.  I never called.  I never emailed.  I won’t lie – that turned me hard and callus.  I was jaded and I know I hurt some people.  But I just didn’t care.  I thought they were all the same…so hurt or be hurt? I chose hurt.  Actually I chose flee without hurt if possible, but sometimes it just isn’t.

Years later, I ran into Nick at a fast food chain over a holiday back home.  Crazy right…but yeah, his modeling days were long gone and apparently he has a thing for fried food now.  Anyway, when I saw him I felt like a giddy teenager.  Then, I immediately felt suffocated and terrified.  We wound up talking in a back booth until closing, then we went to his car for more cathartic – re-hashing coulda-woulda-shouldas.

Finally, “that NYC night” came up. Turns out after I left, he felt so bad about hurting me so intensely and missed me with such veracity, that he drove further into his bad behaviors.  When that didn’t work, he checked himself into rehab, and vowed the only way he’d ever speak to me again was if fate intervened because that was the nicest thing he could do for me.

And as if it were a movie, I Will Always Love You came on the radio right then.  No kidding…. we both held each other and cried because it was so oddly poignant.  That was the last time I saw him.  I hear he’s married with a kid in the mid-west.  A far cry from the city lights and fast times of his youth.

And then… I met Paul.

Paul was, is, the mistake that almost killed me.  He was just like Nick – dangerous, handsome, smart, wealthy…. I was entwined in his life before I could think.  We were the “it” couple in most circles…but what they didn’t see was what Paul did in private.  His crazed temper. The alcohol.  The drugs.  The cheating.  It was Nick2.0 and I was too stupid to realize it.

My addiction with Paul spanned a decade.  I call it addiction because I think that’s what it was.  I couldn’t get out no matter how I tried.  All I could do….all I did…was turn myself off emotionally again because it was all I had left to do.  It hurts less if you are numb.  Have you heard that song Gravity by Sara Bareilles?  If not, listen to it or click here to read the lyrics.  The lyrics were exactly me.  I lost friends.  I lost family.  I lost myself.

All the bad things Nick did to me? Paul was worse.  Paul didn’t love me enough to KNOW he didn’t love me enough.  And my stubborn ass fought for him because I thought love was supposed to be fully unconditional no matter what torture or hell they put you through…that whole for better or worse thing you know?  I thought that part of love was pain and suffering. I thought that what I had was normal.  I forgave a lot.  I dismissed a lot.  I did things I shouldn’t have.

Eventually, by God’s grace, the insanity with Paul ended.  I’ve never been so simultaneously sad and joyous in my life.  The chains were lifted, but the gravitational pull of the relationship still sucked me in like a black hole.  In those moments of reflection, I realized that I had escaped again. Barely…..

Had I stayed with Nick or Paul, I would certainly have ended up dead.  Be that in spirit, or physically, or both – the momentum was already spinning precariously out of control.  And in some ways, I think part of me did die in each relationship.  My innocence, my ability to trust, my openness to love and be loved…those died. Can they be revived? I think so.  I’m working on it. I don’t know if I will ever full have the wide-eyed, small town, first love innocence again…. but that’s probably a good thing.

In thinking about the untimely death of Whitney Houston, I think how close I was to that path.  The world lost Whitney long before her physical body was gone just like the world lost me for a while.  I think that like me, she got involved with the wrong guy.  I think she wanted to love so much that she would have done anything to keep it, just a little more intensely than I did.  I think drugs and alcohol were an easy escape when the pain of the relationship was too much for any soul to brave.  It is so much easier to shove emotions and realizations that things are over underneath a rug, especially if the rug is a bottle of Jack….or whatever you poison may be.  It’s easier to forgive and dismiss someone’s behavior if it’s under a veil of substances.  No matter what he does, if you are turned off emotionally and can attribute it to some substance…. you last another day. I know.  I’ve done it.  I regret it.

I’m so lucky that I got out at the exact right moments.  No matter how much it hurt, life with either of them would have been so much worse.  I’m blossoming again.  I realize now that love…love is NOT what I thought.  Love should be pure.  Love doesn’t hurt you physically.  Love doesn’t scar you intentionally.  Love doesn’t emotionally break you…if it’s actual love.  And if it isn’t actual love?  Well…. do what you want, I’m not gonna judge…but just acknowledge it for whatever it is.  Real love is scary.  Real love is blind.  Real love melds two souls into one…but that doesn’t mean love should change your innate spiritual and ethical structure.

So my dearest bloggies, no matter who you spend your Valentine’s Day with, please make sure you keep your head.  It’s easy to lose track of yourself.  Remember how important you are.  And if you forget?  Ask your mom….or your best friend.  They are great for helping you remember.

Big hugs and Happy Valentine’s Day,

Me

I’m Pretty Sure The Apocalypse Has Begun February 10, 2012

Son of a BLIMP! 

It’s been a supremely weird last 48 hours y’all…and that’s saying something coming from me.  I started thinking about it, and I’m pretty sure the only rational explanation is that the apocalypse has begun.

Point 1: Weird Weather

Yesterday morning? Snow.  Yesterday afternoon? Heat.  Currently? It’s snowing and there are no clouds in the sky. What. The. Hell.  Is that even possible???

Point 2: Weird People Behavior

In 48 hours, pretty much every person I know, myself included, has done something fully out of character.  Some good, some not so good….all surprising.  Not to incriminate, but here is what I’m talking about:

• Random hook up with a stranger 10 years younger? Check.
• Going from Absolute Romeo to Absolute Asshole? Check.
• Reeling in your diva for the very first time? Check.
• Dancing on a bar top….as a grown-ass adult? Check.
• Random people in your way way past back to hurt you? Check.
• Finding out your commitment-phobe ex is engaged? Check.
• Vegetarian turned carnivore? Check.

Maybe I just have weird friends….maybe it is a full moon?

Point 3: Weird Animals

Yesterday, my desk was infested with ladybugs.  Today, they are all gone.  No sign of them anywhere. Sent in their place? Super annoying tee-tiny ants.  I feel them crawling all over me even though I know they aren’t. I look like an itchy crackhead.  Even the crack-haired one from my office is looking at me funny.

My large gangster squirrels are back, as are the crows and some big-ass fly creatures. Seriously freaky.  It is all wild kingdom up in here…. and I swear to you there is no food at my desk.  The other question is why MY desk.  Why do I seem to attract everything but men and money?

Thank God tonight is PIC Night.  It has been a crazy week…. and if the world is indeed ending, I can think of no one else I’d like to spend it with than PIC.  Bring on the wine, the karaoke and the wiggle dance….cause we are Sexy and We Know It.

Cheers and Happy Friday

Blast from the Past February 7, 2012

I normally use this space for funny jaunts through my insane life.  Today however, is different.

I was close friends with a group of guys in highschool.  We went to college together, then drifted apart.  I still think of them and the fun times we all had being silly, goofy kids…growing up together. Failed attempts to reconnect lead to years of separation. Now I no longer know anything about these guys, but I still think of them often.

Today, I got a text from one of these guys.  It’s literally been over a decade since we spoke last.  All it said was “Sweetie, I need a favor.”

Turns out his mom is ill and he’ll be staying with me tomorrow night.   But here’s the cool part.  He said that of all his friends, he always knew he could count on me if he needed me.  No matter how much time passed between us, that he always knew I’d be there for him no matter what it was.  It totally made my heart melt.

Some people might see this as a guy who just wants a free room, but I’m not that cynical.  This guy was there for me when I had my heart broken the first time…..and the second time.  He was there when I needed a date to my sorority formal because of that incident.  He was there when I decided I was going to run away with a boy (and he thankfully talked me out of that.)  He was there through pretty much all my firsts and worsts – making me laugh, holding me when I cried and reminding me that life is so much fun if you stop taking it so serious.  When you share all that, how can you not just drop everything and be there?  I asked him that question today.  He said, “Darling. No one ever would but you.”

Is it true? Am I really that good of a friend? I certainly always try to be….

I reflected on our moments together and it made me wistful for my younger days.  Days where all I worried about was whether or not I would get to sit beside my flavor of the moment boy in class; which ballet I would be in and what outfit I would wear to the horribly themed fraternity mixer of the day.

I’ve grown up a lot since those days.  In so many ways they were the best and worst of times. You never realize it until you are on the other side though -  older, stronger….and hopefully a little bit wiser.

Here’s to old friends, new beginnings and the promise of happier days.

Cheers!

 

Really Beast…You are Killing Me. February 6, 2012

Y’all.  I’ve had it today. It’s Monday, early afternoon, and I’m ready to punch a bitch.  And by bitch, I mean Beast.  Beast, my coworker, has been in rare form today…even for her.  Don’t know Beast?  Read here.

Here’s my morning:

• being told I wasn’t recycling right (I put it in the proper can.  How is the wrong?!)
•  forced to answer three phone lines at once while she filed her nails…literally.
• told I was looking haggard (I think she’s jealous, I have on my Tiffany blue cardigan with diamond looking buttons -  perfectly accented jewelry and shoes. I look freaking adorable.)
• critiqued endlessly on every single thing I did today thus far
• asked to quit typing so loudly (Now I’m doing it just to piss her off.)

Then, she went and pulled this:

Beast: So. What did you think of the National Anthem last night during the big game?

Me: honestly and truly, still attempting to be perky after all the above  Oh I thought she was great! I love her!

Beast: Hmh. Figures you’d think that.

Me: seething, blinking, remembering to breathe, forcing myself not to acknowledge her

Beast: Yea. She hit a couple notes that were wrong.  You know I have perfect pitch hearing.

Me: still ignoring

Beast: Hm. Well…you wouldn’t know anything about that. You don’t have a famous mom.

Me: OH SHUT THE HELL UP YOU STUPID PIECE OF LARD. ok, I just said that part in my mind…..Um, I thought she was great – and I also thought she looked adorable.

Beast: Really?!  HAHAHA. I hated her hair.  What is she, like 12? I guess you’d like that prissy girl.

Me: I do the death turn. This means I slowly turn my head, just my head, in your direction, give you the “shit is about to get real” look, then dare you to speak. 

Beast: Yea, you really do look awful today. What..you didn’t sleep again? Sucks to be you!

Me: Do. Not. Speak. To. Me. The. Rest. Of. The. Day. Understand?

Beast: Whatever prissy pants.

Me: Did I stutter? Lose the attitude….and the “Fear the Turtle” shirt. It’s juvenile and … it accentuates your stomach sweetie. I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell for that one. But…. ya know.

So because of Beast, I’m revising the drinking game I initially created for her. I might need a new liver if I don’t.

One Beverage of your Choice:

• Every time Beast rolls back in her chair and you are unable to avoid speaking to her OR she looms at your desk and you break your vow of silence
• Each time she says, “You’re just wrong!” or heaves a heavy, disapproving sigh.
• Each time Beast cops a fake Southern accent
• Each time Beast leaves for over an hour and doesn’t tell you goodbye or where she’s going

One Shot:

• Every day I’m the first one here, last to leave
• Every time Beast says “Well, that’s not MY problem.”
• Every time Beast attempts to make you feel stupid, inferior or less beautiful than any human should…BEFORE noon.

Here is the tally for the day: 4 beverages and 6 shots.  Hmmm.  Maybe this still isn’t good for my liver….I need a new job y’all.

I Think I’m Down By One February 3, 2012

I’ve never been happier that I have full bladder control. I’m pretty sure what just happened would have left less stellar bladders void, thus causing major embarrassment in the office setting.

I think my heart may have stopped for a microsecond. And I’m certain one of my nine lives is gone…actually, I think that drops me to 6…but those are stories for another day.

Here’s what happened.

As you know, I work in crazy town. A place where the membership isless than stellarand the outdoor animals run amok.

Today, I had my floor to ceiling window blinds shut tight.  It got dark, so I decided I needed to let in some light.  I walk around my desk to open the blinds and here is what happened:

Me: Fu…www…aaaantastic. Oh my God!

I freeze in abject terror, my hands drawn up to my face a la all those goofy movie trailers you see where people have the absolute shit scared out of them.  Yeah.  That actually happened so I can no longer say “oh COME on” when I see these trailers heretofore.

I see before me what I’m pretty sure was a zombie homeless woman.  She was just standing there, vacantly staring into the window, her face barely grazing the glass, yet no breath marks are on the window pane.  She has deep circles under her brown eyes, her hair is long, dark and scraggly.  If Medusa was a hippy and had dreads, this is what it would look like.

She wore a t-shirt, torn at the neck from wear. It said “EAT ME” on it.  A lovely sentiment.

I unfreeze for a moment and forget that there is a desk behind me.  I start to back up a little, and at the moment my ass hits the edge of the desk, the Eat Me woman bangs her fist on the window and grunts.

Me: HOLY S…h…

Thankfully, the rest of that statement was completely overshadowed by the fact I had somersaulted backwards over my desk, landed in the floor, knocked over my plant and pen cup, and had somehow wrapped myself in the phone, pulling it out of the wall.

I think I blacked out for a second. I got my wits about me and looked up just in time to see the zombie Eat Me woman run like something out of 28 Days, arms and legs all flailing…she scaled our fence and ran across the heavily trafficked road to the bus station.

All I could do is put my head back down.  Oh the comfort of the floor.  Thank God I opted for pants today.  I began to feel my heart resume beating.  I sat up and looked across the office to see who witnessed my demise.

Coworker 1: That was some funny shit.

Coworker 2: I seriously thought you were out cold.

Me: I hate you both. Seriously.

Coworker 1: Totally worth it.  That’s priceless.  Princess down!  But, you kept the Pradas on.  Good job.

Me: She was freakin’ undead over here – grunting and banging the glass!! It was terrifying!

Coworker 2: You almost cursed. I can die happy.

Me: Seriously. That’s what you get from me almost dying???  How about “are you ok?”  You both suck.

Here’s hoping your Friday wasn’t cracked out and creepy like mine.

Me

I’m Mortified. February 1, 2012

Y’all – I completely embarrassed myself.

My phone, Svetlana, hates me.  She sends auto-corrected texts that get me in trouble, eats voicemails and erases texts before I see them.  PIC is usually the recipient of her wrath.  PIC laughs about it and doesn’t judge.  My mortifying moment? Not to PIC.  Rather, it’s a guy I’d rather love to impress.

Note: I’m not sure what name to give this guy, but I have a feeling he’s going to be in the blog more often. Until I come up with a real name for him, we’ll stick with B.

I was working on a work project and mentioned the lack of office equipment I had to do my job.  And then it all went to hell. 

Me: I miss my awesome orifice equipment…

B: What equipment did you have for your orifice?

Me: Idk…a faster printer for one

silence for a moment, then I read what I texted

Me: Oh no! I’m sorry! I meant office!!!  Damn Svetlana!

B: Hahaha. It’s ok, I enjoyed it.

So blogland, B is officially in the “I was attacked by Svetlana” club.  I think I should make t-shirts.  My friends should get something out of the deal right?

Back to work I go…. with shoddy orifice equipment.