I cringe a little (excuse the pun) each time someone logs in from Kansas. For some reason, I’m totally freaked out by the idea that someone who knows me in real life (i.e., a coworker) will find my blog and … what? Find out I’m a gouine?* That I hate my job and that even though I get along with Bosshole I don’t respect her – or even like her very much? Find out I like my cat better than almost every human being I know – even though I am positive that when she meows “Per favore smetti di parlare ad alta voce in questa lingua irritante”** she isn’t saying “Please scratch me behind the ears” ?
I guess it bothers me because my number two all-time post is bound to bring me someone who knows me. Or someone who knows someone I know. I’m not at all concerned that people are finding my blog when they’re searching for articles on stabbing – dream-stabbing, that is.
|Dream a little dream of me …||150|
|Reason #391 Kansas Sucks||146|
|Give me liberty or give me a lobotomy||122|
|Pour Some Sugar on Me||106|
|I’ll be standing here beside myself||102|
People wanted to know “About” me 131 times. And they are more interested in “About” me than pouring some sugar on me. That’s something, I suppose.
The thing is, I’m boring lately. I’m fighting my way through my last few days of school (yes!) and then I have to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. Maybe I thought that when I reached this milestone, a new job with a 50% increase in salary would just magically appear. Maybe I’m discovering that I’m still going to have to do something that resembles work – a lot of it.
But on the bright side, I’ve been taking full advantage of my company’s mini-gym and each day I leave work so tired that I can barely yell, “Vaffanculo!”*** at passing cars. I don’t look any skinnier yet but I feel better already after only 3 weeks.
I have a coworker that I call Marmaduke. I call her that because she has the biggest Texas twang you’ve ever heard and because she is dumber than a box of rocks. (She laughs like Marmaduke, too.) I have stacking trays on the wall of my cube. The one closest to the edge is marked “Ingress.” It even has the word “in” in it! The other is marked “Egress” and is closer to me (so I can reach it to throw stuff in it. I don’t care if I can’t reach the inbox). Marmaduke puts files on my desk (where they get mixed in with other stuff) because she didn’t know that the outer box was my inbox. I’ve only told her 36 times. The last time she put stuff on my desk, it got mixed in with other stuff, I thought they were done and gave them back to her to refile. Then I needed them again. So she had to pull them again. All because she isn’t smart enough to figure out that THE BOX CLOSEST TO THE AISLE IS THE INBOX. She twanged told me (quite indignantly) that the box was not marked.
I pointed at the little sign “Ingress.” She just stared at me.
It is now marked in big letters: FILES GO HERE.
She’s worse than Cartman. Cartman could tell the difference between literal instruction and hyperbole.
Yesterday, I asked Marmaduke to yell at me when she saw the mail clerk because I needed to give her a letter.
She snuck up behind me and yelled in my ear.
She scared the SHIT out of me. I jumped straight up and yelled “JESUS CHRIST!” – which Marmaduke thought was hilarious. Her excuse was, “Wellll, you tode me to do it”
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just extra cranky lately. But I am tired of being the smartest person in that unit. I’m tired of my boss “axing” me questions. I’m tired of Bosshole (who isn’t really my boss anymore) saying things to me like, “Do she know she have to fill out that form?” I’m tired of her being on the phone ALL DAY LONG. I’m tired of Marmaduke being so fucking stupid that I can’t use a colloquialism because she will take it literally. Then again, maybe if I told I’d give her $100 if she stood on one foot on the white line on the interstate …
Tomorrow when she says something that makes me want to scream, I’m going to smile and say, “Tienes el cerebro de un emparedado del queso.”****
And when the guy who sits in front of me translates it for her, I’m going to ask him, “Wer hat eigentlich den Krieg gewonnen?”*****
** Please stop talking loudly in that annoying language
*** Fuck off!
**** You have the brain of a cheese sandwich
***** Who won the war anyway?
If anyone can name the languages used in this post, I’ll be impressed but you won’t win a prize