Beware the Ideas of March March 15, 2012

Yes.  You read that correctly.  Beware the IDEAS, not ides of March.  Today is March 15, which is my busiest day of the year at work.  It’s the deadline for a million projects I handle all year long. Today, as of course it would be in my life, every idea is…let’s just say….horrible.

1) Coworker, not Beast, brought me breakfast this morning because she knows it is my day from hell.  It gets cold.  She goes to re-heat it for me in the microwave.  She forgets that said breakfast item is in a foil lined package. Fire in kitchen before 9:30am.  Bad idea to put foil in the microwave.

2) I just had a text conversation with PIC.  I asked her to  join me for pee drinks at my place on Friday before our outing.  I meant pre drinks.  Then I was talking about doing a phone interview as a maiming specialist.  That’s clearly not the job.  It’s marketing.  Not maiming.  Svetlana is just a bitch, though perhaps you could make an argument for marketing and maiming.  Regardless, it’s a bad idea to send incognito texts whilst trying to work and answer the phone.

3) Beast attempted to make fun of me and step kick broadway style through the office with her one crutch as a cane (she has a sprained ankle) as she delivered my mail.  She planted face first and now her chin is gushing blood.  Bad idea to make fun of me when you are clearly a bitch…because karma is too.

4) No lie.  I have to use the real last name here because it’s truly important.  Email reply to me from burnt biscuit coworker:

Her last name is Bangasser? Wow.  That must be rough….but I bet she gets a lot of dates.

Why was this a bad idea?  Because coworker hit reply all.  That wasn’t sent just to me, it was sent to Bangasser, my boss and a professor at Bangasser’s school.  Really bad idea not to watch your reply and reply all buttons.

5) I had a retching incident.  I walked into The Smelly One’s office after lunch.  He smelled so rank that I really did throw up in my mouth when I had to shimmy behind him to get into the files.  But I was so closed in that I had to hold it in until he rolled out of my way and I could jump up and run.  Bad idea to eat a big lunch, then go to the smelly guy’s office on the warmest day of the year thus far.

I declare today a mis-fire.  Can I go back to bed and start over?  Oh hell, that won’t work…if I have to do all this again I may cry.  I guess I’ll just lead by example and remind you all to beware the ideas of March… and the ides too, just in case.

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.

 

 

Svetlana and Lola October 26, 2011

I get to see PIC tonight! We are going to sing loudly, eat, drink and laugh like school girls at things that don’t make sense to the rest of the world.  That’s how we roll.

I wasn’t going to share this, but I think it is hysterically funny and I can’t help it.

PIC had a run in with the auto-correct.  Instead of Hurray! Girl’s Night!, it read “Horny! Girl’s Night!” Heretofore, girl night is dubbed Horny Girl’s Night.  Pair that with my own Svetlana issue? To the untrained eye, PIC and I look like oversexed party girls with friends that are worse. To me, it’s just funny.

To the readers who know my cast of characters, and have read most of my posts, this should amuse you. If this is your first read of my blog, my apologies.  I’m not that wild and crazy, but my phone and GPS certainly are.

PIC: Horny Girl’s Night!

Me: Raise your vaginas!

PIC: I can’t wait.  But that crackhead Lola isn’t invited. She craaazzzy.

Me: Lola’s due in rehab. She is shouting “lost satellite reception” a lot these days.  I am beginning to wonder if that is her version of “hell yeah” because she says it at the best times to accent my quirky inner dialogue.

PIC: Lola’s due for 28 days.

Me: But… I do have to bring Svetlana because I can’t quit her.  She is a bitch, but she is my bitch.

PIC: haha Wheat Mush and Rav ride at 5?

Me: Lost. Satellite. Reception. (aka hell yeah!)

Really Svetlana? I hate you. October 4, 2011

My dear reader knows that my phone hates me.  It retaliates with a vengeance at the most inopportune times.

I have decided to name my phone.  Something that is female (she is bitchy and has a proclivity to talk about vaginas – go ahead and click on that link – it was a good story); something that is kind of bad ass (she knows no shame and speaks her mind).  I have landed upon Svetlana.

I’ve already established that I am not working any more today.  My co-worker feels the same.  The first sign was that she used the sentence “And by WTF, I really mean, that’s what you probably want to say.” This got my attention, so I texted her….and then Svetlana happened.

Me: Dude.  Did you just use the phrase WTF in conversation with a college kid?

Coworker: Yes.  Yes I did because honestly, this sucks balls.

Me: Yeah, I’m kinda over this whole portal mess.

Coworker: No shit.

Me: That is one reason I’m procreating as much as possible today.

Coworker: Nice.

Me: You should try it.

Coworker: Nah. I’d rather just sit here and play on facebook.

Me: I’m doing that too.

Coworker: Poor guy, does he know you aren’t paying attention?

Me: Sweet baby moses.  I’m sorry.  I meant procrastinate.  I don’t procreate at work.

Coworker: I was afraid to look into your desk area to verify, but I was pretty sure that was what you meant.

Me: #$%!^WTF Svetlana.  I hate you.

Coworker: Who is Svetlana.  I hate her too.

Me: My phone.

Coworker: Svetlana sounds like someone that likes to procreate at work.

Me: I’m putting her in my purse, so that won’t happen.

Coworker: Sveltana sounds like someone that would like to be put in the dark.

Me: Damn it. Svetlana will go on my desk and sit under the post it notes until she finishes her time out.

Coworker: Word. Get that bitch.

Flirty Vaginas August 30, 2011

I am the hostess with the mostess.  I live to throw a good party, and I have such an occasion coming up!  My sister, who hates loves my party style, was annoyed delighted to hear me rattle on incessantly about my plans.  This conversation went horribly, HORRIBLY, awry thanks to my auto correct and overzealous typing.

Note: this is a Sex and the City theme party

Me:  We are having Flirtinis and Cosmo Cupcakes! I even have sugar pearls to sink in champagne glasses because it’s too cute and Charlotte-like.  Also, I am making pineapple ice cubes with cherries in the middle so the Flirtinis aren’t watered down.  How cute is that!? You think I should also freeze chunks of pineapple?

Sister: That sounds like you.  Yes freeze the fruit. You’ll like that.  Just be sure not to stab anyone if they use the wrong fork.

Me: No forks.  However, if they don’t keep their vaginas up as they drink Flirtinis, I might have to slap them.

Sister: Damn that’s tough.

Me: Whatever, I always raise my vaginas. That’s what ladies do.

Sister: No sis, that’s what whores do.  And since when do you have two?

Me: What? You are mean. :’-(

Sister: Read your damn text dork.

Me: Sweet baby moses….  I meant pinkies!

Sister: Uh-huh.  I was close to coming to your party if vagina raising was involved.  Now, I’m not coming.  This is much less fun.  Drink a Flirtini and raise your vaginas for me on Friday…..

Me: Bite me.

Tiaras and Rednecks. August 9, 2011

My sister receives multiple automated phone calls from a local orthodontist reminding her that her four kids are due for an appointment on a specific day and time.  My sister has no kids, just animals.  Here, we meet Hershey.

Sister: Guess who called?

Me: Who?

Sister: Dr. Kim

Me: Great! Dr. Kim can I bring my kids in? I only have 2.

Sister: Well yes of course. Please come by now if you can, some delinquent mother of four is yet to bring her kids in…in spite of multiple auto reminders.

Me: Excellent. Doesn’t that delinquent mom know the value of her kids’ dental work? How else will they blaze through toddlers and tiaras? GASP!

Sister: Well stated. What are their names?

Me: Hunter and Hailee

Sister: Oh of course…. keeping with the H theme. Very trendy. They will fit in splendidly.

Me: Hailee won’t take off her tiara. Can you work around that?

Sister: L

Sister: O$i$

Me: are you saying lol? or….?

Sister: Sorry that was Hershey. He says hi.

Me: Hi Jethro.

Sister: WTF?

Me: Sorry! I meant Hershey.

Sister: You need to eat more chocolate and less redneck if Hershey auto corrects to Jethro. What – do you hear banjos?

Me: Shit it.

Sister: Really mature.

Me: NO! Shut it! Not the other! And I don’t eat rednecks….

Sister: Uh-huh….. run faster, the banjos are louder.  Just cause you don’t eat them doesn’t mean they won’t eat you, white meat.

Me: Hailee darlin, take off the tiara! Mama needs a weapon!

Sister: bahahaha. Like you would have EVER farted with a crown for mom.

Me: I do not flatulate.

Sister: That was way better as fart not part.

Me: Tiaras. My weapon of choice.

Sister: They killed me more than once.

Me: What? Why?

Sister: Ass hats.

Me: ?

Sister: Whatever. I give up. Auto texts are not playing nice with me. And, Hershey wants a tiara.

Me: aka ass hat?

Sister: I love you.

Fur Fights August 9, 2011

Actual Text.  Don’t judge, my one reader (or maybe I have two or three now?)

In reference to the boss:

Friend: Is she back? Sorry. Fighting. Running late.

Me: Sour fur fights.

Friend: Really?

Me: Yes. You know I love you!

Friend: I love you too. I’ll be there soon to help fight the fur.

Me: ?

Friend: I won’t leave a sister behind to clean up da fur.

Me: ???

Friend: Check your texts.

Me: Haha. Ok. I meant sorry for fights.  But now I’m really confused.  What fur fight made sense to you? And why are you going to clean it?

Friend: You know we live in a pussy-filled environment. Fur flies at a moment’s notice there.

Me: Ah! Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?

Friend: Ab-so-fuckin-loutely

Me: Get your ass to work.

Friend: No. Not unless you instigate sour fur fights.

Me: Like that would take much? Give me 5 minutes.

Friend: bahaha.  See you soon.

 

Phones have their own mind July 29, 2011

If you have any auto-complete feature on your cellphone, you know that most of the time what you type and what the phone THINKS you type are very different.  Well, at least in my case.  Perhaps I have illiterate thumbs.  Or evil thumbs out to get me.  Regardless, I find humor in the discrepancies as long as I proofread before I send.  I will share them with you as they happen.

It says: “I loud forward sadist”

I mean: “I look forward to Saturday”

If my phone was clever and educated, perhaps it would have inserted some commas and the 1st person singular present indicative of be.  Unfortunately my phone is a hillbilly, or else this would have been some prime comedy.