Category Archives: Uncategorized

Problems With CoWorkers Part One of Infinity.

Hello WordPressers, bloggers of truth, of opinions, and cat pictures. My time to blog has been decimated by the dreaded overtime at work. It seems that instead of hiring new staff, management said, “Hey, we’ll just work the staff we had double hard and it won’t really matter, am I right???” Great fucking plan. Because I for one enjoy not seeing my loved ones. That is why I absolutely refuse to poop on my lunch break. They are going to pay me to poop and I am going look at Facebook and Cracked.com while I do…savoring the solitary accommodations, and taking undeniable pleasure in the fact that I blow up the administration bathroom. Because…that’s why. Ha.

So, while working like every goddamn minute of my day and being exhausted after a fourteen to sixteen hour shift, I just haven’t been able to summon the creative strength to write anything worthwhile. You should see my drafts, I think I now have more of those than I do posts. So, I’m going to write about coworkers and the types you deal with across the board. This will be in installments b/c confession here; if a blog is much over 1000 words…it’s going to lose me. However I am going to the doctor to see if I truly have adult ADD…all the signs point to yes.

1. The Ricky Gervais
This guy or gal is the person you work with that has infectious laughter not like the kind that catches on quickly and everyone is laughing. No, the kind the brings forth disease, boils, abscesses…MRSA. It makes you cringe when this person laughs. What’s worse is this person is rarely to never (I say never) funny. However they go into a fit of hysterical laughter at their own jokes. They don’t notice that no one else is laughing. They don’t notice that people have something to do right fucking now when they approach. They don’t notice they are as funny as an unexpected pregnancy. This person is usually easy to get along with so their overkill of joviality is overlooked. However a hasty escape is my first plan of action, because abrupt interruption and walking away KINDA makes me feel like a dick. Sort of.

Plan B

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. The Informant
This person’s sole purpose in the workplace is to point fingers and displace blame so as to project their actual incompetence as and employee on to you. This person spends more time pointing out what others do wrong they don’t really have time to do their own job. Which, they never do all that well. This is the last person to tell you drew the dick on the staff meeting flyer. I mean hey, that’s when modesty is necessary, not everyone needs to know how totally funny you are. But YOU know…you know. This person however will fail, and it will be in a biblical way. YES. The satisfaction is never more sweet when that fartknocker misspells a word or locks keys in an office. I mean I can almost taste the gratification. It’s so very sweet. Hey loser way to lock your keys up, stupid big butt sucky suck suck.

3. The Zealot
There is always someone who firmly believes in something. They believe in it hard. I mean so HARD. So I’m in the South, the most popular belief here being Christian. Which is whatever, fine, I applaud direction and faith in SOMETHING. Be it an omnipotent god or that you would defeat Michelle Obama in arm wrestling. Sorry, no one can. My irritation comes in when someone pushes their agenda hard, I mean so hard. They want to correct the very speaking patterns you have and make it relative to their way of thinking. If I don’t want to be positive about something I don’t have to be. If I don’t want to think that an occurrence was based on predetermined destiny and stars and shit then to me it didn’t. I don’t want to have to word things so as not hear a lecture or sermon. I want to eat that cupcake, yes it has sugar, gluten, fat but it also has chocolate chips so back up or get jacked up. There are some people that you would swear they are selling more than they are living their own life.

THIS guy…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. The Open Book
Most of the time when someone says they are an open book it’s more a red flag than a attribute. The open book has drama and not the sexy 50 Shades of Grey drama, no regular drama that no one but Jody Picoult cares about. Sometimes it’s real life problems and sometimes is fantastical hardships unimagined since I don’t know the Dust Bowl. No one ever, ever asks but this person will divulge. They tell you about uncomfortable things that range from the disease the have (you’re lucky if it’s just one) to relationship problems, to the 99 other problems that besides a bitch. They talk to their coworkers like someone else would talk to a close friend. The good thing is this type of person isn’t fishing for you to provide feedback, they don’t care. They really only want to talk about themselves.

Well kids that’s all the time we have for today. Remember to wash your hands before you eat and brush your teeth before bed. I hope to be back real soon!

I’m a cute wittle puppy waving goodbye…

The Coveted Stretchy Skirt and Bad Parenting

The other day, I went to Goodwill for the half off price day. Why? Because I don’t pay full price for anything if I can help it, and look it’s a paraffin wax machine for two dollars. I really want that. I don’t care if it’s someone elses wax, or dead skin, it’s two dollars. Yes I need it.

Maybe it’s the appeal of fashion long forgotten. Those neglected American flag shorts aren’t going to look hot themselves. I once found an entire collection of sad clown paintings, a Billy Ray Cyrus shirt and an espresso machine. That day I felt like the queen of Persia with all my riches and treasures. The kind of queen who owns rare textiles, feathers, spices and like the first known plasma television…

What you do find in Goodwill is magical, what you also find are terrible parents.

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So, I’m shopping. I had my hands on a sweet stretchy mini skirt. I hear this banshee child running through the isle. He’s crying, he’s distraught, he’s snotty. He’s crying for his mother. It sounds like a mongoose fight.

I help children however, even snotty ones. I follow after trying to get the kid’s attention so I can return him to his owner. I’m running after him and so is an older woman. We’re both calling after him in what I’m worried looks like a kidnapping plot gone horribly wrong or maybe wacky should it be a comedy movie. Alas no code Adam for this kid, because I think mom is sniffing glue somewhere.

Well I get the kid stopped, and try to ask him where his parental figure is. He continues to scream and more snot spews down his face. Then his grandmother shows up and says the kid has A.D.D. which somehow explains the kid being lost. Absent parenting is symptomatic of said disorder.

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So at the check out line the kid is hitting his mom and saying, “I ain’t goin to the damn car neither!” Maybe mom did that on purpose? The kid had half his shirt in his mouth and was now covered in both drool and snot. Gross.

I know, I know, kids get lost, but he was running around screaming for quite some time. How do you not know the piercing screams of your own child given you are subjected to them quite often? Also, another woman got the skirt, sooooooo there’s that. I don’t think it would fit her either, I’m pretty pissed. Thanks kid. You should go to the damn car.

One time I saw the most dirty kid I ever saw in my life at Goodwill. His parents were trendy hipsters so this isn’t a poverty jab. However the child did appear to live in the most vermin invested Hoverville. The parents were in nice clothes, hell they were downright dapper. He looked ferrel.
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I thought at any moment he would say to me “Please sir, I’d like some more.” Why did they let their child go in public so filthy? One of a few stepmoms I had growing up had relatives that let their child run around like a dog that rolls in poop. My brother and I were like, “Do we have to play with her? If she breathes hard her boogers are going to fly all over us!” To which my dad would respond with his ominous silence and stern eye. Don’t fuck with that look. He remembered the Alamo.

I see bad parenting here and there. Trust me, you have to be pretty bad for me to pass judgment. However, Goodwill seems to be the ground zero for poor parenting choices and a sweet collection of cat mugs. Morning coffee is about to get adorable. I’m still mad about that skirt, I know she put it back when she tried it on. NO WAY that skirt fit those haunches!

Confessions About Poop, A Very Mature Post

Usually, pooping is untold relief. Sometimes pooping is absolutely dreadful. It may be that morning after a night of drinking. It may be coming home after eating Hooter’s hot wings. It may be the absolute worst one…post baby delivery first poop or as I like to call it third birth.

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Actually, this guy has a scratch and sniff picture of Ke$ha

So I comprised a list of the most dreadful poops in life:

The New Relationship Poop at the House.

There's something I've got to tell you...maybe show you if it's impressive enough

There’s something I’ve got to tell you…maybe show you if it’s impressive enough

Despite the obvious truth, everybody poops, it’s really difficult to let a new partner know this. When you progressively spend more time together you inevitably spend enough time for the digestive system to need evacuation. That first time you are at their house and you go to the restroom, it’s terrifying. I personally get anxiety, and don’t want to admit to myself what is about to happen. It’s time to take things to the next level. I go ahead and embarrass myself by announcing, the impending deuce I’m about to drop. Because by not telling and letting said person go in the restroom directly after me only to smell what the Rock is cooking is horrible. Much more embarrassing.  So I usually say, “Um, don’t go in that bathroom, give it like five to ten…just sayin’…love that shirt…look a unicorn on TV!” However, once that initial earth shattering monumental step has been taken, it’s over forever and pretty soon your opening the door while your duking just to say what a stupid bitch Jill at work is and her new haircut looks like she was infested with lice while in an eighteenth century British prison…fuck her.

Public Poop

I think she has to poop too, so the problem cancels out autonomously

I think she has to poop too, so the problem cancels out autonomously

Pooping in public is intimidating and scary. The private bathrooms offer some solace. The chances of the person following behind you in a one person restroom being someone you know aren’t very likely, there being like billions of people on the planet. However even strangers are troublesome in a multiple stall restroom. They walk in, and they know that your pair of feet is the cause for the hearty aroma. They know you had to poop and couldn’t finish shopping at Micheal’s, you had to put aside the glitter, yarn and beads to go work on a new project. Now, if I’m finished, I’m too ashamed to come out if it was indeed me that was pooping. I’ll wait the other person out, thinking, come on, how long are you going to stand in here? However if I’m done and the restroom is empty, I have no problems with someone walking in. It’s a crime with no perpetrator then. See, anyone else could have left that phantom poop. It’s not always the person applying lip gloss at the mirror. I’m not caught at the scene of the crime, now I’m just and accessory after the fact. Or maybe I think this because I don’t readily accuse the person still in the restroom. That’s unfair. The suspect could have fled minutes ago. Either way, I try to make it home.

I am ashamed of nothing.

I am ashamed of nothing.

Well, those two scenarios are probably the worst I can think of. Sometimes I ask God if he’s real, then ask if he’s listening, then I just ask him why do we poop and why did I drink so much coffee? I don’t really get answer, and I don’t forget to courtesy flush.

Stupid Things Mothers Compete About

This post is probably more relatable to women, maybe because it’s about mothering, maybe it’s because I’m a woman, maybe because Air Bud can play basketball really well.

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“Nothing but net!”

Maybe because I said maybe a lot and cited reasons. If I use potentially or possibly this post would sound a lot smarter, because scientists use those words more so to support their hypothesis (an educated guess, because everything scientists do is educated, even guessing). If my calculations are correct scientists could potentially guess with education than you when they play Guess Who? leaving you to guess, well, stupid. Also by my calculations I can make a hypothesis if I wear a lab coat, lab coats make you seemingly smarter than before.

3.Who has the most disinfected kid.

we all know that kid’s hands are more vile than a urethral swab from Tommy Lee. However moms think that having sanitizer in their purse, on their key chain, and simply everywhere makes them superior. They are quick to give you the most horrified look when you don’t splash Germ-X on each rung of the monkey bars as your kid goes across them. Firstly, hand washing with soap and water is more effective being that it kills C. Difficile spores. That’s one that can make your butt a diarrhea fountain not unlike the chocolate fountain at Golden Corral. Furthermore, constant sanitation eliminates germ exposure, weakening the immune system. Yes, your kid should wash his hands throughout the day but if you think that leaves you bacteria free, your an idiot. The body is comprised of millions, trillions of bacteria, approximately five pounds of it. we also have an immune system that operates on recognition of invading pathogens, so while it may be counterintuitive, the body breeds exposure in order to respond appropriately.

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“Motthhhhaaaaaa”

2. Who had the worst labor.

Birthing a child hurts, duh. Most women had contractions, painful ones at that. Some women labored for hours, some for days. Some women are dead set on having the most worst labor of all time as if they give prizes for that. First of all oxytocin, that awesome hormone that starts contractions, creates a flow of wonderful emotions, and also causes a woman to forget just how painful labor is. That’s nature’s way of “buying you a drink”. I mean if you remembered distinctly every detail, humanity would have ceased or slowed considerably. What could be a shared experience for women to relate to each other is sometimes a battle for who had it worse. It’s hard for me to openly talk about this subject for this reason. I love to hear other women’s stories but not when they have to detract from everyone else’s with, “Oh that’s nothing, I’ll tell you about MY birth…”

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“When you were born it felt like Wolverine shredded my vagina”

1. Who sleeps the least.

Another favorite, some mothers love to make lack of sleep a badge of honor. Again, this could be supportive and relatable right? Fuck no! “When MY child was a baby he slept four hours every seven days, and I cleaned the house while he did that.” Yes, infants wake often. Sometimes they have colic, and they sleep very little. However, they do fucking sleep, because humans sleep. What’s worse an admission of being tired is like a celebrity tweeting a racist comment, you are subject to scrutiny. Not only will women make outrageous comparisons but ensure you that you have failed because you require just some of that restorative function our bodies need, not want, need.

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I suppose us women will always compete. Maybe we’re evolved but we still look at the Facebook pages of our boyfriend’s ex or our ex boyfriend’s current girlfriend. I admit it, and admit I do it because I want to think I’m prettier, thinner, better at taking bathroom mirror pics. People in general brag more than they should really. Oh well, what to do? Well, besides hate every bitch at the YMCA pool, or baseball game, birthday party, pre-k keg party…what?

I love the moms who just admit they struggle and it’s challenging to be a mother. There are women who really do face so much adversity. I’m not sure why women aren’t supportive of each other as they could be. If being a good person and parent kept score, I’d be somewhat better than the Detroit Lions, somewhat.

Khaki Crazy Debauchery

I have mentioned before that my laptop had a rendezvous with death. I’m not much of a computer person but I think the fact that it won’t start-up is a good indication that it’s done for. Yes, it was plugged in…Yes, I turned on the “on” button. So instead of abandoning the blog I’ve come to love, I use my phone or I go to the library which makes me feel better about paying taxes. Not only am I using the internet but I’m surrounded by hotties. I’m not sure why, but the only other people who use the public library computers have a “skullet”. 

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You and me should study some anatomy together.

Speaking of computers. I admire that people know like, a whole lot about them. In my mind the inside is a dated 3-D animation of grids and cubes. Not unlike a Trapper Keeper.

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Pictured: the motherboard

I never really took a strong interest in computers and therefore am perpetually asking, “What the hell does that mean?” This put’s I.T. people in the “wizard” category, which includes; mechanics, mathematicians, and women who make kid clothes on Pintrest.

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mechanic poop

This last weekend I’m pretty sure I saw the most wild I.T. department party since the beating of the fax machine on Office Space.

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And so it begins

I witnessed this at bar with some karaoke. It’s been a while. So there was a group of guys, about five of them, in matching plaid shirts and khaki pants. I’m pretty sure they finished updating a huge company’s database and decided to loosen up a bit. You know just some good times with the bros.

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It was a long day fixing adorable problems

So these guys start drinking and singing. I mean that’s typical of a karaoke bar right? Yes of course. Well, they drink a lot. They start laughing hysterically, they start yelling, they start…holding hands and dancing in a cirlce? Yes. One lays on the table and another one stands in the chair. There was a lot of stumbling and or dancing to Poison. There happened to be a literal game of grab ass too.

Their antics continue until the slapping starts. Yes, they are slapping each other in the face and then hugging, then kissing each others cheeks. The night just got very confusing. I’m not sure if these guys are going to fight or fuck or both. Either way there is going to be debate over whose chinos are whose in the morning.

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Dude, dude the boss just asked for that file and I sent a pic of my junk!

They left the bar walking arm around shoulder in a line kind of deal. Everyone inside was like, “What the hell was wrong with those I.T. guys?”. I suppose it’s not right to assume they were, but come on they were.

Shut Your Pie Hole: Part Three

I’ve written before about conversational faux pas, not once, but twice before. Well, it’s always fun to revisit my favorite subject; people being assholes all day everyday.

Well I’ve gathered some more violations that coincidentally render me full of overwhelming desire to whirl my arms in a windmill action and run straight forward into the person talking.

3. Being a condescending arrogant fuckface about uncommon knowledge.
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Everyone has a hobby or interest and with that carries a superior knowledge pertaining to that particular subject. Perhaps they are a “specialist” in the area.

For example you have someone who’s really into a specific music genre. They are absolute snobs about specific varieties because just enjoying music that you like is absurd. This can relate to the inability to acknowledge legitimate talent to a “sell-out” music group. No one is less discriminating in taste because they don’t know about the all transsexual (and one bear) jazz fusion group from Iceland you post You Tube videos about on Facebook all fucking day. Furthermore, no one purposefully clicks those links and when they do they say “Uh! Damn you touch screen! Go back!” However this is the same type of person who is an absolute snob about you saying, “Oh hey, so I downloaded The Black Key’s new album and it’s so good.” They in turn have to dramatically roll their eyes and make face just to say, “They became SO commercial, I can’t believe you listen to that.” They manage to alienate themselves as much as their music alienates itself because you, know, most people don’t like it. Ha.

My senior year English teacher was arrogant prick about all things grammar. It was like he was flabbergasted he had to teach us anything. How dare we students need to be educated? He, by the way, must have had heinous Benign Prostatic Hyperplasia. His nickname was “donkey balls”, also his wife looked like a man. One time, a student realized that his wife happened to be another teacher there and exclaimed, “That’s your wife? I swore I thought she was a les…um…oh…crap.” My teacher’s balls were pulsating with anger. Ha.

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it's like I had my high school yearbook on google images

I’m not certain where the overconfidence comes from but I think it relates to how much someone identifies themself as a person with that activity or knowledge.

2. Insistent People Who Will Not Take NO for an Answer

It’s awkward enough to be polite as possible when you say “No” to an engagement you don’t want to commit to. It’s torture to say no a thousand freaking times. However, the other party is not getting the hint and is providing a million alternatives to enable you to attend. Maybe even murder…

Small example, say you hate pumpkin flavored anything in life. I do, if all forms of contraception was pumpkin flavored I would choose abstinence. More realistically, I would have an abundance of unplanned pregnancies.

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Drink I tell you, you have to watch your brother and sister tonight

Incidentally, someone insists you would just love THEIR version of pumpkin pie and abandon your prejudice, giving redemption to all pumpkins the world over. Making the Great Pumpkin and Linus really happy. Well, lets say you relent just to stop the not shutting up that’s going on. You realize suddenly, this is what Ke$ha’s mouth tastes like when she wakes up in the morning. You want to gargle with sulfuric acid. Yep, you still hate pumpkins.

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With one exception

This may or may not have happened to me personally, so that was all hypothetical. For whatever reason, these kind of people don’t interpret the words that are coming out of your mouth as a decline to their invite so they just keep asking over and over.

1. Healthy Advice Givers When Advice is Not Asked For.

I actually, care a whole bunch about health. I work out, I eat healthy, I work in the healthcare profession. It’s my passion. I don’t say anything about to anyone, as if it were Fight Club. I eat my vegetables and humus and STFU about it while I do it. Now, my coworkers know that I live this way but only because they ask and I in turn will tell them. They cheered aloud when I joined them in a cupcake celebration. I mean, I am human, and…cupcakes.

However, no matter the GMO filled, hydrogenated fat packed, chemically treated foods they eat, I’m going to be silent. Everybody knows vegetables good, candy bad. Everybody. They have internet access, a library card and a physician just like me.

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This it's way better than having a life!

Well meaning health fanatics can sometimestake it to level ridiculous. They think they are privy to occult knowledge. I don’t mind being told about the dangers of a product’s chemical, I really don’t, but don’t be a hypervigilant nag about it. People tend to shut down when they experience constant correction. Also, people are going to live the way they want to and will not seek help until they are ready…if ever they are ready. So while a persistently critical health fanatic might live a long, healthy life it will probably be a lonely one too. This whole organic moment is growing in popularity (which, don’t get me wrong is really awesome), it’s ushered in a whole new kind of asshole behavior.

Well…that’s all for now. Comment, share…criticize (this may be shocking but not everyone it’s a fan of my blog).

Completed Project (because sleep is for suckas)

I finished my other shoe, project complete. I’ve got other ideas for shoes, bags, etc. I had a lot of fun with this project.

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