Naughty Naughty

At my new office, a group of us have begun a weekly lunch group.   At this lunch, we were discussing gift ideas.  I, the ultimate gift giver, declared a particular website that I always use for gift idea inspiration.  Before I go further, I must say that this group I eat with is very diverse.

1) Lucy: she’s a numbers girl and extremely logical.  She has no filter.

2) Vince: older than us, heart of gold…. but his mind is always in the gutter.  No filter.

3) Jane: my wonderful, level headed sweet hearted co worker.  We have known each other for years – and she certainly has a filter.

At this lunch, we had an outsider – John.  As luck has it?  I had some serious make out sessions with John in college.  Of course it was nothing serious and he’s got a wife an kid now… but imagine on your first day at work walking into the office of a co-worker and you both realizing that the last time you saw him?  You were scurrying around seeking your underwear and stumbling over beer cans and pizza boxes. Awesome….We swore not to talk about those nights back in the day to any of our co-workers.

Now.  We’re talking gifts and this seemingly sweet topic turned very bad.  While perusing this site on my iPhone, the following conversation took place:

Me: Oh! Corkcicle.  It’s a really cool wine chilling device- she’d love it!

Jane: Oh let me see!

Vince: The HELL is a pork cicle?

Me: CORK!!!

Vince: Pork?

Jane: CORK – like for wine

Vince:  Oh.

Lucy: Hey that reminds me of something I heard on the radio the other day.  Did you know a pig can have an orgasm for 30 minutes?

Jane: They can?  That’s not fair! (Then realizes she spoke that out loud and puts her hand over her mouth.)

We all laugh, then John walks in.

Me: taking my phone back, searching for distraction…. I happen upon plush toys.  I click the picture to enlarge and see this:

Toy

Jane: What is that?

Me: I’m not sure? It says plush toys but OH! (as I begin to look realistically at them and realize what they are)

Jane: realizes this at the same time

Me: Ok….so ovary, prostate and testicle.  So what’s the pink one?

Jane ponders and Vince grabs the phone

Vince: looks down over the brim of his glasses and very matter of factly and quite overly pronounced, he says: Testicle. Hmm.  Yes, I’m not sure what that pink thing is.

John: grabs my phone and exclaims: OH! I know!  It’s the C word!  (looks at me and turns bright red)

Me: eyes grow wide and looks around to see if anyone else saw

Lucy: which one?

John: even more beet red, speaking straight to me and NOT Lucy who asked the question: NO!  NOT THAT C, the other one the.. the… the…

Lucy: Clitoris?

John: Yeah…that one.

Me: still looking at him, then mentally sending him the message of “Hey.  I wish you’d known what that was back in college….”

Jane: I don’t think that’s right.

Vince: No. It can’t be…. (randomly poking at the phone)…. OH!  It says (again in his clinical voice) MAMMARY.

John:  Hmmm.  Mammary….

Me: beet red and wishing I had not visited this site.

Lucy: I don’t get it.  Are they vibrators?

Me: oh dear god…. want to crawl under the table

Jane: NO!  They are just toys.

Lucy:  How do you play with the toy? What do they do?

Jane: Not THAT kind of toy – it’s really like a pillow or a stuffed animal.

Lucy: Why?

Jane: I’m not sure?

Lucy: That’s stupid.  Why would I want to have plush organs lying around?

Me: I have no idea.

Lucy: OH! I could buy a couple of testicles and let my dogs have them!  Here boy!  Fetch the testicle!

Me: begin to wheeze in laughter because both Vince and John have a look on their face of pain and fear.

John: I gotta go…..

Lunch ended abruptly and we all kind of just dissipated.

And the best part dear readers?  Lucy?  She’s dubbed our HR Head.  Awesome….

My Dirty Mind

Normally, I’m the last to get a dirty joke.  Normally, I’m the last to TELL a dirty joke.  I, however, have clearly been cooped up for too long as my last two encounters with the chef I work with left me giggling like a twelve year old boy.  I think that I am now the proud owner of a dirty mind.  Crap.

The Nuts

I have to send out menus as part of my regular duties.  Many times our chef, love his heart, just can’t spell to save his life.  For instance, we recently had “camel” sauce on ice cream and “chicken beets” for an entrée.  So.  I proof the hell out of his menus.

This particular day the menu consisted of  “root beer float wet nuts and cherries.”  Immediately, I get the giggles.  I assume he means WITH nuts, not wet nuts.  So I go solicit the wisdom of a trusted coworker and she gets the giggles too.  Wet nuts.  Neither of us had a clue what the poor chef was talking about….. I brilliantly determine we should google it, but then realize quickly that I love my job and I don’t want to be dismissed for looking at porn.  So, we left it be.  For days, I’d walk by her office and whisper WET NUTS.  Or we’d have a bad moment and I’d say aw…wet nuts.  We had a lot of belly laughs over this.

Then we went to the event…..and passed by a table…. of wet nuts.  Turns out?  They are just nuts in syrup.  Or at least that’s what my mom called them.  But then again, she’d never utter the phrase wet nuts.

Strike 1:  Your girl here immediately leaps to conclusions.

 

The Beating

The same wet nuts coworker?  Well, we were in my office…which is incidentally next to the kitchen.   Invariably I hear weird noises, thumps and bangs.  However today, we hear a consistent beating sound. Thump-thump-thump-thump…. rhythmic and sustained.  After a few minutes, I decide to go get water and investigate said sound.

I enter the kitchen and see chef with a mallet.  He’s pounding out the beef entrée for the night.

Me: So YOU are the one that’s making so much noise!  Goodness Chef, I can hear you through my wall. (I laugh.)

Chef:  What!?  I’m beatin’ my meat!

Me: pause – look stunned/shocked

Chef: look of awareness crosses his face; I’m pretty sure I saw his eyes flash an “oh hell did I just say that???” followed by an awkward silence

Me: awkward silence…start to back away, willing myself not to giggle

Chef: What? Shit.  Damn.   Um… I …. Um… Leave me alone!

Me:  Ok!  Have a great day!

I ran-walked back to my office, without the water I went to get.  I shared Chef’s comment with the coworker, and we both laughed until we cried. Come on.  Don’t judge.  You are so giggling over beatin’ my meat.  You know it!!!

Strike 2: I tried to be good and I still couldn’t help but laugh.

So.  Moral of the story?  Wet Nuts and Beatin Meat.  Not always what you think they mean….. sometimes it’s just delicious ice cream toppings and a necessary step in beef Braciole.

That’s How You Know

I have a slight case of plague, so this is going to be super short.

PIC, my ever best bestie, brought me a pasta salad today that I adore.  It almost brought a tear to my eyes.  Why?  Because not only did she bring me the only pasta salad that might tempt my palate…. but she went through and picked out all the olives for me.

That’s how you know she’s your bestie.  She picks out the olives for me because she knows the site of them makes me hurl….even on days where I am not likely to hurl.  I didn’t have to ask.  I didn’t even have to say a word.  She knew.  She acted.  SHE ROCKS.

I love PIC.

I’ll rest up and will write more soon.  Off to the land of plague,

Me

The Beebs Is Messing with Me

Perhaps it’s the wine.  Perhaps its the fact I’ve literally just finished work for the day (that’s a long damn day y’all).  However, I had to let you know that I have dubbed my first new office person:  Beebs.  And I’m relatively sure he enjoys messing with me.

Here’s why.

Strike 1:

I work in a place where you are more likely to hear Vanessa Mae’s “Storm” rather than anything Top 40.  Mind you, I drive in about an hour to work, so I bee-bop to the radio.  I come in and I’m getting my coffee, bopping to the beat….that’s when I realize I’m bopping to Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend”. I pause mid pour into my mug and realize that yes.  Justin Bieber really is blaring through our music system.  I also realize, much to my chagrin, that I apparently like this song…but I digress.

Turns out?  Our cleaning guy, AKA Beebs, left on the top 40 station.   I had two people comment, but after a quick change, we were all ok. I thought.

The whole rest of the day was plagued with foul-mooded people, and I fully blame Beebs for starting off our days.  Perhaps Bieber reminds people of a forgotten youth.  Perhaps he reminds people of the grandkids they miss.  Perhaps his hair just pisses them off.  I don’t know…but what I do know is Bieber is a bad omen in my work day.

Strike 2:

I have been at my office for a whole month, and I have yet to get a new trash can liner.  My liner is stained with ketchup, coffee and what looks like dirt but I’m sure is printer ink.  When the liner developed a rip, I thought I’d get another one.  No.  Beebs just tied a knot around the rip and stretched it over the can tighter.  Way to go Beebs.  Way to go.  I think he knows I want a new bag and is messing with me.  Lord your power of the bags over me.  Beebs of the Bags.

Strike 3:

Now I know why I don’t have a new liner.  I worked until around 10 one night.  I walk into the offices and I see Beebs, feet up on the desk, talking on the phone.  Rather than scurry with a flourish that OH I’ve been caught!, Beebs gives me a head nod and says Hey.  Then, he keeps talking.  Well played Beebs.  Act like it doesn’t matter.  Maybe you’ll convince me it’s ok that you use our phone lines and neglect our trash bags.  You almost had me- but I’m on to you.

Strike 4:

My next post:  Something foul in the state of my office.   I have no proof, but I have my brain’s conclusions, which are good enough for me.

 

It’s late and I must rest, but I am really sure that Beebs is messing with me.  I’ll keep you posted.

 

Night night,

Me

Y’all Know I Love Sparkles

As my readers know, I love things that glitter and sparkle.  (So much so that PIC has to warn me on occasion.) So,  being awarded The Sparkly Award is pretty much amazing. 🙂  Thank you She Can’t Be Serious!   If you haven’t read her blog, please check her out.  She’s funny and feisty and I’m sure you’ll love her like I do!

The rules:

  • Answer the questions below.
  • Thank the person who gave it to you  Thank you She Can’t Be Serious!
  • Link back to that person and pass it along to as many peeps as you want.

Describe yourself in 7 words:  

  1. Optimist – come on folks.  I see glitter when it’s really just poop.  That’s an optimist.
  2. Genteel – I’m a debutante in the south….
  3. Happy – I just landed my dream job, and I finally fill fulfilled
  4. Stylish – I love fashion, stilettos, purses and makeup.  I never leave home un-kempt.  Maybe that’s part of being a debutante? 
  5. Kind – I believe you reap what you sow.  Karma is a bitch, so be nice y’all.
  6. Effervescent – I believe a woman’s best accessory is her smile.  And I always believe that if you smile and act happy, eventually you’ll feel better.  And…. it makes more wrinkles when you are sad and frowny…..so let’s just not, look fab as we age and be happy!  
  7. Wise –  I am a kind person, but I’ve also been around the block a few times.  I know when kind becomes doormat.  I know when my kindness won’t be returned.  I know  when to say no.  I know when it’s ok to walk away and when to dig in my heels and try harder….. I know how to fight fair.  I also know I’ve more to learn and I try to do so daily…..Oh.  And I know how to get a stain out of just about anything.

What keeps you up at  night?  

  • My brain runs 24-7, so pick a topic, any topic….and that’s probably right.  Last night I was worried about PIC.  She’s sick and I want her to be better soon.  I miss my bestie!!! 😦

Whom would you like to be?  

  • Finally, I can say this with truth:  me.  I love who I am and what I have become.  I’m finally comfortable in my own skin.  Although…..me with say a billion dollars, great health, and a hot husband who worships the ground I walk on?  I think I could be ok with that too. 

What are you wearing right now?  

  • A cute little Ralph Lauren dress and some sassy red shoes….. and pearls.  Almost always pearls.

What scares you?  

  • Clowns.  I hate them.  If you don’t recall that, read here.

What are the best and worst things about blogging? 

  •  The best thing?  Honestly?  Feeling like I have a whole new set of friends out there that actually know the real me (even if this blog is anonymous) and are here to listen.  The worst?  Writing a post, then realizing I have to take it down because it’s TMI…after you all have liked it and/or commented and seen it.  Thank GOD this blog is anonymous.

If I could change one thing about myself, what would it be?

  •  I am finally happy with me being me, but I suppose I’d change my marital status.  I want to be a happy wife and mom.  I can finally support that financially and emotionally.

Slankets, yes or no?  

  • Did you really ask me that.  Seriously?  Let’s go with no.  If you are too lazy to put on a sweater and/or use a blanket…you should probably just go all out and live off Cheetos and wear nothing but Crocs….with socks.  I’m so anti-slanket that I would start a campaign to stop making them.   Perhaps we can create a pyre where all slanket owners can come, without judgement, and let them burn rest in peace.  It’s not even a Snuggy.  It’s a knock off Snuggy.  Come on people…. let’s not encourage them. 

Tell us something about the person who nominated you. 

  •  She’s is one of the first blogs that I followed….and one of my first regular readers and commenters, so she’s special to me. 🙂  She is sassy, witty, funny and awesome.  

Love to you all bloggies!

Me

She’s Back!

 

Hello bloggies!!!!

After much ado, I am finally back!  As you may recall, when we last were here, I had gotten a new job. Well, long story short, I am back.  I did have one last hurrah back at the old job and, in true form, it was legendary.  Enjoy one final story from my old job dearies!

Part 1: Chaos

As I drive into the old office, I am hit with a wave of nostalgia.  Although I hated that place, it did have its moments.  Much like an old love, you are happy it is over, but can appreciate the good for what it was.  I began to get a little misty-eyed and then I pulled into the drive.  There?  15 cars.  And a swarm of angry villagers.  I was seriously looking for pitchforks and torches!  They mobbed my car.  I finally get them off my car enough for me to get out.  Turns out?  I was the first one there.  The coworkers?  They were supposed to be there by 8 to let the angry villagers (AKA group that was renting the upstairs conference room for some uber important meeting).  As it was 9, the villagers were pissed, and rightly so.

Fortunately, my boss “gifted” me with being able to keep my key and code in case of emergency because I live so close.  The angry villagers were not happy as they only rented the room for an hour, and had been standing the annoying mist rainy crap weather for an hour.  I soothed them by saying, “I don’t even work here!” and gave them all my boss’ cell number.  So they could each call and express their opinions.  I hope her phone exploded….

Part 2: The Beast

When help finally does arrive, the angry mob has ceased and they have dispersed back to whatever place they were.  I, having nothing to lose, lay down the hammer on time, communication and how we were going to run the show today (incidentally it was an event that I had begun prior to leaving, so it kind of was my show to run).

Me:  You will take Groups Rose and Pearl (I nod to the Crackhaired one); and You (Beast) will take the other groups.  I will be running point between all groups keeping them on schedule and helping wherever needed.  Ok?

Coworker 1: We have groups?

Me: Yes.  It controls the chaos.

Coworker 1: That’s so cool…. I never would have thought to do that.  (Bursts into tears) WHY did you LEAVE ME?!?!

Me: Um. I’m really sorry honey…..  So… groups.

Beast: eek! (makes a sqeaky sound like a dog toy as she clinches her butt cheeks and hops a little)

Me: Yes?

Beast: I think I shit myself.

Me: (looking mortified) YOU DID WHAT?

Beast: I have IBS, don’t be mad at me.

Me: YOU SHIT YOURSELF.  Go home and change please.

Beast: Yes, that’s what I need to do.

Me: (wafting the smell) Please go now.

Coworker 1: If I shit myself can I leave too?

Me: No.

Part 3: Agatha

I sent she-shits-a-lot home, then I sent the other one home to sleep because she was on my last nerve.  This gave me time with my two awesome volunteers to set up and do what I needed without having Crackhair and She-Who-Shits under foot.  Doorbell rings and I know it’s my third helper for the day, a paid volunteer (is that an oxymoron?) that I haven’t met yet.

Me: Hi!  You must be Agatha!  (extend my hand to shake.  I take all of Agatha in.  She is about 6 feet tall, broad shoulders, growly faced and is about 60.)

Agatha: (smirk) And…. you….are?  (no hand extended, just brushes past me into the office.)

Me: Um. I’m (insert name here) and I worked here for four years…. until a month ago.  This is my event.

Agatha: (looks at me with disdain) Where is Boss?

Me: She isn’t here, I have no idea.

Agatha: And, then where is Beast?

Me: She had to go home to change clothes.

at this point I am irritated

Agatha: And where is Crackhaired?

Me: NO ONE IS HERE.  I AM IN CHARGE.

Agatha: Well, you aren’t a paid employee are you?

Me: Not any more….

Agatha: Well, I am, so I rank you. (gets a pleased grin on her face)

Me: Listen.  I don’t care if you are paid or not.  This is MY show.  You can call the boss, or anyone else you like, but today, paid or not,  you answer to me.

Agatha: Well, I’m paid today and you aren’t.

Me: Aren’t you lucky then.  Now.  Go vacuum. (I do acknowledge this was mean.)

Agatha: In THIS outfit? (which, I must say was nothing spectacular)

Me: Yes unless you’d rather pull the stats for every guest arriving and create a matrix of the spots that are relevant to each of them inside the tour of this facility….then notate that and make sure it’s where the tour guides can easily understand it and access it.

Agatha:  I’ll vacuum.

Me: Please get the elevator, there is crap all in there.

Agatha: HOW?

Me: We have a cordless vacuum.  (In my head i say, As a…what did you call it… paid?…person here today, shouldn’t you know we have that?)

Agatha: I don’t want to do the elevator because the doors will close.

Me: And…..

Agatha: I don’t want to be in there with a vacuum.

Me: Well, that’s how you vacuum an elevator, so make it work.

Fifteen minutes pass and then I hear this:

Agatha: Shit.

Me: What’s wrong?

Agatha: Nothing! Leave me alone.

Me: Well that’s not going to happen. What’s wrong?

Then I come across a spectacular sight.  Agatha drug the CORDED vacuum into the elevator.  Then went to plug it in in the hall.  The door closed and BOOM.  Elevator door is stuck with the cord in it and she can’t open the doors.

Me: AGATHA.  Did I NOT say to use the cordless one? THIS IS WHY.

Agatha: Well, I didn’t think it would happen.  I figured you were wrong.

Me: Well, it did.  And in two hours we have handicap guests that will be here.  They need the elevator. So I don’t care if you brute force open the damn door….but you best be figuring out how to make the elevator work.

Agatha: You are a little high and mighty aren’t you.

Me: Shoot her a look with my eyebrow raised a la PIC.

Agatha:  Ok I’ll figure SOMETHING out.

Me: Thank you.

At this point the fire department arrives because someone (Agatha I assume) pushed the rescue button.   They were able to open the doors.  Thank God.  Agatha sat there and smirked.

Part 4: Finale

She Who Shits didn’t come back.  The Crackhaired one did, but was no help.  Agatha, bless her, was in a corner stuffing her face with quiche and mini cheesecakes.  The herd of folks arrive, and I divide and conquer.  All is well, but suddenly I realize I need Agatha to help with the tour while I go and fix something for the reception area.

Me: Have you seen Agatha?

Volunteer: She left.

Me: Pardon?

Volunteer: Yeah she looked around and then scurried out of here with cheesecakes in her mouth.  She looked like a f—ing chipmunk.

Me: Are you kidding me?!?!

Volunteer:  Sadly no.  I tried to stop her but she glared at me and I thought she would either punch me or eat me.

Me: I’m sorry.

Volunteer: I pity the cheesecakes.

***********

The day ended, and I said goodbye.  I closed the chapter on that place and I will never look back.  Goodbye Crackhaired, Batshit Boss, Beast who Shits and Agatha.    You gave my blog lots of fodder.  For that, I am grateful.

 

I’m Not Sure How I Feel About That

So, for giggles, I looked in the WordPress stats to see what people are searching for when they find my blog.  Some, I expected.  Some…. I have no idea what the hell they mean and/or am embarrassed that my keywords somehow fit this search.  Thank GOD this blog is anonymous.  Here are the highlights.

  • weird people facebook

Ok. I talk about weird people a lot on this site.  I work with them, live with them, see them all the time.  I’m ok with this one.

  •  flirty auto correct

Svetlana’s auto corrects are far from flirty, except the time she referenced orifices.

  • gangster things to put on facebook

I have to bray-laugh at this.  Gangster Squirrels rule the world.  Oh no?  You doubt me?  Read here.  HereAnd here.  But, while I respect people Google it, I’m not sure what self respecting gangster, be he/she of the squirrel persuasion or otherwise, actually HAVE to look up things to be gangster.  Indeed, I would argue that you can’t BE gangster unless you already know the things to say. You think Tupac Shakur (RIP buddy) or Snoop Dogg ever Googled how to talk gangster or cool gangster lingo?  Nay!!!  Sad days you wannabe gangsters.

  • ho ho and ding dong on neighbor’s porch

and the equally awesome

  • red woven poncho

Really!?!  I’m not sure where those even came from.  What in God’s name?

  •  flirty vaguna

That’s probably because I have a post that includes a bad autocorrect from Svetlana.  Hey…maybe she DOES send flirty texts?  But come on now.  It’s not a lagoon…..use your spell check.

  • men peeing unnoticd

Alright.  Gross.  Is this because I referenced ONE TIME that homeless people pee outside my office window?  Please, persons that found my blog using that phrase, please don’t read this blog.  It creeps me out….and again, use your spell check.

  • wine slush

Yeay!  PIC and I do this a lot.  So… yeah.  I get this one too.

  • Is Clint Eastwood Dead?

Um….. I suppose that’s from the Izzy post I did.  But the answer is no…..in case you wanted to know.

  • classy woman

Ok.  I’ll admit it.  I’m flattered.  However, not really sure how that search term led to me.

  • God Help that Child

Well, yes.  But…. how did this happen upon me?

  • teen funk

This one is classic.  I did have an outing with PIC that involved the stench of teens. 

  • sister is in labor what to do

I can tell you what NOT to say and do…. but I’m not the blog to check on this topic.

  • jailbird celebrations

Do you know how the caged bird celebrates?  This is an oxymoron if you ask me.  But you didn’t…. so there.  That’s my unwarranted opinion.

  • what does it mean when you say “i blew that out the window”

Yep.  That exact phrase.  With quotes.  Did I ever post something on that? I am using the context clues here, but, who does use that phrase?  Out of the water? Sure. Out the window? Not so much.

**************
So dear readers, if you have a blog, I encourage you to have a drink and check your stats.  Hilarity is bound to ensue.  Cheers my lovelies!