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….

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Taylor’s Faux Pas

My beloved Taylor is having a rough month.  The cat has a wax belly and the dog peed on her Chistmas deer.

I had the pleasure of meeting up with Taylor for dinner, where she shared to stories of her week.  Enjoy.

Bad Dog!!!

If you’re single, we all have that item of clothing (or outfit) we wear for comfort and would simply die if anyone saw.  For me?  It’s a pair of blue pants I wore after back surgery.  The elastic in the waist is worn out so it gives me continual plumber crack.

Taylor hasn’t felt well lately, so she put on her comfort attire (which I will define shortly in detail).  I was envisioning her comfort attire as….well…. nothing heinous honestly.  She seems too put together to have comfort wear, but I suppose they say the same about me.

Anyway – Taylor’s comfort outfit is a salmon color tshirt that says ARUBA in nasty turquoise blue letters.  No bra.  Tucked into grey sweat pants with an elastic cuff, and big blue socks that have little balls on them.  Observe:

taylor

Now THIS is sexy….

Taylor was laying on the couch trying not to die when her doorbell rang.  Mortified that she was in her comfort wear, Taylor weekly made it to the door and squeaked “Who is it?”  Turns out it was a concerned co-worker there to bring meds and soup.  Awww.

Taylor told her to leave the materials at the door and she will get them.  No one would see Taylor in this outfit if she could help it!

A few minutes later, Taylor opens the door to get said items.  Call it slow reactions.  Call it bad dog.  Call it fate.  But something made Taylor’s dog Max make a mad dash for the outside world at this point.

Max is young and is not an outside dog, thus Taylor had to plow down the street of her neighborhood….. in her comfort-wear.  Here is how she said it went down, verbatim.

Taylor: YOU FU*&ING BASTARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET BACK HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Max: yelps and runs – this is a game for him now

Taylor: SON OF A BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Max: gives her a look like… um actually? Yes.

Taylor: STOP! BAD DOG!!!!!!!

Max: cuts through a neighbor’s yard and proceeds to poop on said yard

Taylor, winded from having run and scream, while sick, scooped Max up, pulled some toilet paper from her pocket (apparently she has a cold), and cleaned up best she could.  Max seemed pleased, but Taylor feels she now has to move because her street has seen her comfy wear.

God Bless Taylor.

Really?

A few days later, Taylor went back to work.   At lunch, Taylor went to the little grocery by her office where all the earth-friendly people go.  People were giving her the once over, and she thought it was because she hadn’t brought in her re-usable grocery bag.  She felt guilty, but kept perusing.  After many scowls, Taylor began scowling back.

At the check out, Taylor’s checkout guy was also giving her the eye.  Then he asked if she’d like to buy a bag. And then this happened:

Taylor: THAT’S IT!!!!!!!!!  No.  I don’t want a bag.  I’m sorry I forgot to bring my reusable bag in, but I feel like crap and I’m on cold meds.  Whatever.  Just give me my stuff.

Bagboy: Gives her the once over and says: Really?

Taylor looks down.

Taylor: Oh shit.

Then she quickly grabs her bag and runs out.

Why?  Taylor was forced to  participate in her office Ugly Sweater party.  Apparently, Taylor forgot she was wearing said hideous sweater and THAT was what folks were looking at…. not her lack of earth-friendly carry alls.

So in the course of a week, Taylor, has gone from pulled together cutie to What Not to Wear.  God BLESS Taylor.  Hope she feels better soon.

Merry Christmas-Happy Holidays! Stay out of the ugly sweaters and off the cold meds.

Me

Semantics + Dirty Mind = …….

I told you I had a dirty mind lately.  Well, it got worse.

Proving, yet again, that semantics are important.  One man’s tomato is another man’s… well…. enjoy….

Coworker: Can we put up a link to fuzzy balls on my part of the website?

Me: What???

Coworker: Don’t be that way, look at it on the computer.   It’s fuzzyballs.com and I think it has good info on there.

Me: I’m not typing that in.  I’m afraid of what I might see.

Coworker:  silence

Me: Fine.  Ohhhhhhh.  It’s fuzzy YELLOW balls.com

Coworker: Yeah.  Isn’t that what I said?

Me: No.

Coworker: Oh.  Well whatever.  Can you link that for me?

Me: Sure…..

I then had to call HR and tell them that if they saw a search for “fuzzy balls” on my computer, it was NOT what it sounded like.  Rather, it was a coworker who had asked if I could link it to his web page and he left out yellow.  I sound like a moron.  A sick, twisted, moron.

I need wine.

 

Like Charlie Sheen Attracts Strippers and Coke

I sometimes get questions of “do you make this shit up” on my blog.  The answer is a tragic NO.  Sadly, I doubt I’m creative enough to come up with this.    I attract crazy and odd like Charlie Sheen attracts strippers and coke.  (Yes, verbatim I was told this.)  This story is one of those gems.  But first, a little background:

I am at this amazing new job.  I love what I do, I love where I am…. but my boss?  He is, bless him, about one nugget short of a Happy Meal.  My coworkers and I have dubbed him Doug E. Fresh.  I’m not sure why or how this happened, but it’s quite commonplace vernacular here now. Doug E. Fresh’s existence, I’m certain, is to make our lives as difficult as possible before he leaves this position.  We have a countdown clock now the we know when he’s leaving.  Tick Tock Doug E. Fresh… Tick Tock.

That being said, Doug E. Fresh tales from last week.  ONE day in my life with Doug E.

Me: Doug E. Fresh, (ok I used his REAL name but  you get me) I need you to sign this time request off form.  I’m taking the day after Christmas off if that is ok.

DEF: Oh yes that’s fine.  You are here all the time.  You need a day…

Me: smile (and think to myself it’s YOUR fault I’m here all the dang time)

DEF: Why did you date this with a smiley face?

Me: Oh! (blush) it’s 12/12/12 and I thought that was cool to write.  Sorry….

DEF: That’s right!  How cool is that!  Oh!  Next year it’s 13/13/13! Oh geez I hope it’s not on a Friday!  (laughter)

Me: (realizing he’s serious) Um… 13?  That’s not possible…. it’s December…12….

DEF: God DAMN it!!!!! Oh well.

Me: I’ll see you in our meeting!

I scurry away and flee to the bathroom where I erupt in a fit of laughter.

*************

DEF: (in the middle of a meeting)  You know some days my whole goal is to just distract you.

Me:  Pardon?

DEF: Yea…. you are SO focused.  You just move right through and stay on track regardless of what I say or do.

Me:  Um…. thanks.  I try.  So, as I was saying, here we have the…

DEF: hummina-humminah (makes weird noises)

Me: Yes?

DEF: (more noises)

Me: Ok, So, as I was saying, you have the…..

DEF: (laughs)

Me: Yes?

DEF:  Really?  Do you take stuff for this? You are incredibly hyper focused man!

Me: I’m not on any medications for anything – I’m just a professional and I’d like to get done before dark.

DEF: hahaha!  Ok.  Carry on.

He left about five minutes later….

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To understand this final section, you must understand Doug E. Fresh’s work (haha) schedule.

9am: arrive, fuss about computer, check emails, drink coffee, walk around the office areas and interrupts all head employees

11am: declare hunger and/or may attend a meeting

11:30-noon: leave for lunch

1pm: attend a fitness class or go hit golf balls for a few hours

3pm: back in office, check email, may attend a meeting

4pm: leave for the day
Earlier this week, not surprisingly  Doug E. Fresh declared I had to do a special presentation just for him and include some people via phone. I was already doing this presentation twice on Monday, but Doug E. Fresh wanted it for his on Friday. Fine.  It was absurd, and useless, but I did it.  Then I get this email:

“Yours truly is taking some much deserved time off on Friday. If you need me, I’ll be checking emails”

So, I reply:

“Dipshit.  YOU need time off?  I work more hours in day than you did in two months.  TIME OFF?  You make me pull favors to get a presentation just for you on Friday and now you aren’t even coming?? OR did it mean so little to you that you forgot.  Sweet mother Mary.  You are batshit crazy.  Please, don’t come back….just run away and don’t stop.”

Ok.  I didn’t.  Well, I did, but I erased it.  What I really wrote was:

“You made me schedule a meeting for you on Friday as a test run presentation.  I have a,b,c lined up for the conference call.  Are you really not attending?”

Doug E. Fresh:

“We can do another on on Monday early if you needed to.  I don’t think it’s necessary on Friday.  I trust you.  You’re the bestest!!!”

Ya’ll!  He did.  He said bestest.  And used three !!!. I can only assume the man was drunk or high as a kite.  What 60-something year old man says that?  I think he’s messing with me.  Wait….maybe he’s the Beebs after all.  Maybe it was HIM messing with me and not… no?  You think?  I need wine…..

Cheers,

Me

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.

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

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.

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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!