11.14.2002

oh the places we'll go...


here are two weblogs that make me laugh out loud and give me some thread of intellilectuality to keep me sane while i am stuck in my hell of southwestern va for the next year.... dooce and
sarah brown

thank you for your cooperation in existing.....
i've been a bad bad girl....

sometimes i get the impression that maybe my co-workers feel i am not being part of the team. like maybe i'm a slacker or something b/c all i do is answer phones and take messages. and organize things. (or maybe i'm just paranoid after the last place.) this never becomes more apparent than when they bring me heaploads of papers to shred. to be honest, i fear shredding. not only is it time consuming and tears me away from my precious slackerdom, it frightens me. i am a tall woman with a serious lack of equilibrium. this has caused many a castrophe. my beau and i are both big clumsy fucks. (no, not literally. amazingly enough, that has always gone off without a single hitch and is really quite nice.) he once dislocated his shoulder by walking into a wall. i am proud to say, i've never done anything that drastic. but i digress... so, being near anything with a warning label that reads, "keep hands, clothing and all loose articles away from front and rear paper openings, injury may result" well that just scares me a little. it might as well say, "tall, awkward and clumsy woman beware" with a little picture of my beautiful mug beside it. after trepidatiously approaching said shredder i briefly conquered my fear. and i was on a roll, too. which was very very good since the pile was knee high. (i hate it when messy people decide to be neat.) there i was just feeding that little baby all the scrap paper & blueprints it could handle. there is a note on the front that clearly states to not feed the monster more than 10-12 sheets at a time. did i heed that warning? oh no. i didn't even bother taking out staples!! i was living on the edge! i was being a very bad girl! completely ignoring proper shredder etiquette - and then it happened. as could be suspected whenever i approach anything remotely mechanical, it died on me. apparently, you're really not supposed to feed it more than 10-12 sheets at a time. luckily, after great abuse, it worked again and my clumsy ass was off the line. in the meantime, the very nice gentleman who was here interviewing is probably very afraid of me and no longer wants to be employed with us. he would really be missing out, too. i love this place. anytime i work for a company where when they bring me piles of paper and politely ask, "where would you like this?" and i can reply back, "preferably in a trash can, already shredded." and they are not offended by my lack of a love to serve i am very happy.
another thing i love about my job - and this one in particular just always make my little heart sing - when i am taking a message for someone and after i get the caller's name i ask "and where are you calling from?" and they give me the city name instead of the company name. and after i correct them they talk to me like i am dumb as a turd for asking. i love that one. eventually, when i live in a real city again, i will have a real job. but mindless is working out very nicely right now.

11.13.2002

and what a way to start it all...

shortly after i start this little puppy, i have to leave for ky. (you have to love and fear any state that's intials are the same name as a personal lubricant.) my father called on sunday night to tell me that "by the way, your grandfather died." i don't know how to handle that news, or if i'm actually handling it. horrible as this may be, i was not a very good granddaughter. we weren't sper close or anything. so i'm upset about that, and feeling guilty for all the things i should have said and done. but i think after my last grandfather died - who i was wicked close to - i think maybe i might have closed myself off a bit so that when it happened again, it wouldn't hurt so badly. and my step-mother rocks because she made sure to get us a hotel with a bar. dad is irish, we'll deal with our pain the good old fashioned way! so i feel badly, but i'm looking forward to some dad time and the road trip with my brother. i'm hoping we can do our fun "you're on my side of the car" game, but it might prove dangerous with one of us driving. we always had so much fun with that game when we were kids. my mom would put that spare seatbelt down the middle of the backseat and declare whose side was whose and that we better stay on those respective. but i was a shit. my big brother would be over on his side just minding his own business and behaving. i would get this really devious feeling, like i just had to let the devil out or something. so i would ever so sweetly tiptoe my fingers across to his side. i wouldn't even look at him, i would just stare straight ahead like i was minding my own business, and slide my fingers right across. then he'd start screaming how i was on his side, all hell would break loose and my father would demonstrate his amazing talent for driving and beating children at the same time. i always got my poor brother into so much trouble. i truly feel i am the main cause of his need for therapy. well, we may be crazy, but at least we're fun.
the beginning.... (quite possibly of the end)


I started this little thang, more or less, as a challenge to myself. and to get me writing more writing frequently. i know i have a faintly decent ability to write, i just need to hone the skill a little. (hone damnit, hone!!!!) or a lot. and then there is my need to entertain the masses and be loved.... so here goes....