Check out my baby teeth! Grrrr!
These so-called baby teeth took an inexplicable stab at my boob this morning—not one time, but two times.
My relationship with the puppy has begun to shift.
One Thing To Know About Me
1. I don’t care.
The steam set off a nearby smoke detector and I spent 7 minutes with my fingers stuck in my ears.
Never again.
Nobody knows what I do at my job—not even the people closest to me. When they ask about what I do with myself from 9 to 5:30 each day, I tell them
- “I don’t know………….I seriously don’t.”
- [sigh] “I don’t feel like talking about it.”
- “I edit ads. Except, not really.”
I’m like Chandler Bing in Monica’s body.
I had an epiphany today. After 6 straight hours of unf*cking everyone else’s screw-ups, it came to me. I literally get paid to fix everybody’s screw-ups. Marketing’s screw-ups, administrative screw-ups, the graphic designers’ screw-ups, the writers’ screw-ups, the sales guys’ screw-ups, the customers’ screw-ups. That, is, all, I, do.
In the future when people ask me, I’ll probably still resort to one of the bulleted explanations above. Because when I’m not at work, I don’t want to talk about work!!!! I want to talk about my puppy, the latest This American Life, and how terrible these contestants are at Wheel of Fortune. They suck.
BTW, I’m feeling really sorry about using the F word back there, but it’s been a long, hellish day of fixing everybody’s screw-ups. I need a beer and then six more! With a lime, please.
Just chewin’ on a golf ball. Nothin’ to see here.
I know my priorities are in order at work because when I found out the IT guy was coming to fix my phone today, I frantically cleaned my desk and dusted my computer for the first time since starting here nine months ago.
I like to present a healthy image to people around the office. And by healthy, I really mean fraudulent!
I’ve successfully convinced Lindy that eating Cool Whip on toast is a thing and it’s something I’ve loved since I was a child.
All this, even though we’ve almost never had Cool Whip in the house for the last six years and not once has she ever seen me eat any sort of whipped topping on warmed bread.
I took it a little further a few weeks ago by buying some Cool Whip to make it look like I was going to have some on toast.
It still sits in the freezer.
Gotcha!
WHAT.
Duped by my own husband—if that is your real name.
And to have to find out on Tumblr?
There are no words.
Why is the temp girl one cubicle over explaining to people the way in which her dad used to shave his mustache in high school?
Why?
WHY??!
Work, idiot. Or in your case, color your ass off.
(She literally gets paid to make 3 phone calls a day, and spends the rest of her 8 hours coloring in coloring books and talking about her parents.)
END RANT!!!!!
Last seen: March 13, 2012; 9:05am
Last known location: The fridge at work
Description: Blue with a shiny top
Thanks a heap, thieving mean-ass/confused person who made an honest mistake!
Check!
I’m finding it hard to play nice with co-workers who format their spreadsheets like utter baffoons.
In the words of my dad, “Were you born in a BARN?”
“Keep off the grass” signs seemed silly to me, until I started a new job and suddenly became the sign’s target audience every damn day.
THAT STUPID SIGN!
FOREVER TARDY BECAUSE OF THE SIGN!
SO MUCH GRASS/NOT ENOUGH SIDEWALK!
