Mug Shots

Was today one of those days that had you responding "fuck off!" even when someone was just saying "good morning!"?

No? Was it just me? I must be getting less tolerant in my old age. And so begins my moaning about turning another year older in approximately 31 days!

Anyway.

Sunday was my 5th Anniversary at Arkham Asylum. I remember when I first started here, at the young whipper snapper age of 32 (although soon to be 33), and was still a Bambi (naive with balancing issues) with hopes and dreams and a small coffee cup. After a couple of years, I bought a bigger cup because my escapes from my desk for coffee refills became less and less frequent.

This year, to celebrate the demise of my sense of humor when it comes to the Asylum, I graduated to an Andre the giant sized cup. I stopped kidding myself about being able to leave my desk. Ever.

I know what you're thinking, doesn't this mean more potty breaks? I won't tell anyone if you don't!

Of course this also means I am celebrating 5 years of playing "Fetch OZ's sandwich" which is always nice. Especially because one of my joys in life is walking across a vacant lot, side stepping dog poop landmines, in 4 inch heels for a meatball sandwich that somebody else is going to eat.

Yay me!

And if I happen to be at lunch when his majesty wants *HIS* lunch? Well, Glynda and her CSI skills track my ass down.

Glynda [walks into my office doesn't see me so she asks Milton]: Where's Bee?

Milton: Lunch.

Glynda: I was just in the lunchroom and she's not in there but I noticed the toaster is still warm.

Milton: Maybe she stepped out?

Glynda: But her purse is still here. [points at my chair where I place my purse and then swivel it to face the wall so that I don't get burglared by criminal patients]

Milton [starts fidgeting because now she's faced with a puzzle she cannot solve (no, I wasn't there to see it happen but I know my Milton)]: Um well maybe she walked to the gas station/Subway.

Glynda [dusts my area with special tracking powder]: Her car keys were sitting on this ledge and now they’re gone.

Milton: I-I-I don't know where she could be! [cries]

Glynda [she leaves the business office and is hot on my trail]: The foot pattern in the kitchen indicates she headed to the back door. Tiny miniscule crumbs tell me she left the building. This twig that was lying facing the handicap parking spot is now broken in half with the longer piece pointing east. Aha! She's eating her toasted sandwich in her car!

And then I heard a knock on my car window so I looked up and there, in her 4 foot 9 inch flashy white uniform, stood Glynda.

Glynda: OZ needs a meatball sandwich with cheese and 5 onion slices right now.

Yeah, she must still believe in Santa Claus if she thinks I'm gonna jump like a trained poodle and rush over to fetch his sandwich before I've had my lunch.

Me: Did you bring me money?

Glynda: Uh, no but Milton can get it for you.

Me: Okay, I've got another 15 minutes. I'm sure OZ won't die of starvation before then.

Glynda: Will you go right now if I bring you the money.

Me: No.

Glynda: I'll tell him you're on your way anyway. No sense in upsetting him.

And she waited for me to respond but my brain had already dismissed her.

In the amount of time it took her to track me down, she could have walked over to get his damn sandwich but I guess it wouldn't have tasted as good.

One more year of this silliness before I'm fully vested in our retirement fund!

Andyisms:

We spent the weekend at my in-laws house and woke up before sunrise on Sunday morning. As I was getting ready to go outside so that I could witness the sunrise, I asked Andy if he was going to come outside with me and his response was classic Andy:

"Well of course you sappy bastard!"

He makes my heart SOAR!

Reactions to Purple Dino-SOUR's retirement, a timeline:

Tuesday, day of her announcement:

Purple Dino-SOUR: It's time for me to retire so that I may enjoy the last few years of my life.

Glynda: Now we can fill the position with someone who really wants to work!

Me: Yay! Hopefully the next person to sit in her desk will have at least half a brain!

Milton: It's about time!

Cowardly Lion: Took her long enough!

Toto: Boohoo!

Scarecrow: Waaaah!

Wednesday, it begins to sink in.

PD: ::sniff:: I will really miss the people.

Glynda: It won't affect you too much, Bee.

Me [stops dancing]: Wait, what? Why would it affect me at all?

Milton: Uh, now we'll have to do treat day more often because she threw off the ratio!

CL: I hope I'm promoted to her position!

Toto: Boohoo waaaaah!

SC: ::sniff sniff::: ::sob sob::

Thursday, her last day. Or 'day of reckoning', if you will. 

PD: I am being FORCED OUT! OZ cut my hours to make my life miserable! He is an evil evil man!

Glynda: OZ said the work can be done by you in the amount of hours you work, Bee.

Me: What? He's not going to replace her position? I have to take over her work? ::Waaaaaah!::

Milton: . . . because when I first started working here I was doing treats 1 in 8 weeks now it'll be down to 1 in 5!

CL: Okay, I will not be promoted to her position but I will pretend I am now the queen of the asylum by bossing everybody around!

Toto: Who will help me fix the copy machine? ::sniff sniff::

SC: Now who will believe all of my outrageous lies?

Friday, the day after.

Glynda: Look at it this way, job security.

Me [sorting through the piles of unfinished work inherited from PD and thinking *job security* could go fuck itself]: I'm effed. I am so effed.

Milton: ... and now it will be almost every month! I don't know how I'll manage!

CL: And I will be queen of cabbage patch land too!

Toto: The shiny object!

SC: I met Obama at the mall last Saturday. He's shorter than I thought!

Monday, after everything has sunk in.

Glynda: OZ said he is going to give Purple Dino-SOUR's position to his son.

Me: Of course he is because my work life isn't miserable enough!

Milton: I know it's petty but I don't know how I'll manage if he doesn't hire someone else and I have to do treat day more often!

Me [looking up from a stack of papers, messages and charts I inherited  from PD's desk because it turn out she never did any work and just decided to shove everything on my desk before she left while I was in the bathroom]: That's what you're focusing on? Treat day? I don't give a rat's ass about freaking treats right now!

Moral of this story:

Be careful what you wish for because an empty bobble head who at least does the minimum is better than paper cuts on your eyeballs.

I feel partly responsible for her retirement because the last time she worked before she retired I may have said something along the lines of "If you're unhappy here, maybe you should retire. He'll replace you with someone for half of what he pays you and life will go on." In my defense, I really didn't think she had the balls. I guess I was wrong.

No more nose bleeds at work. Well, because of dryness but I can't make any promises I won't break some noses.

I know you're probably wondering what that picture is of or what it means. Well, that right there is my ghetto humidifier. The  ladies' skin is now so thin that they keep the thermostat at what the sun must feel like during a heat wave so it makes the office extremely dry. Since OZ would rather buy a $1,000 fishing lure instead of a humidifier that would prevent office fires, I remembered my sister mentioning this nifty trick of putting water in a jar with a rolled up newspaper and now I can actually breathe without hacking. I know it's not esthetically pleasing but if it gets the job done that's all that matters.

I miss the old school radiators that had a pan on top that you could fill with water and it made the air all moisty.

Also, the newspaper I used has a picture of T!ger Woods on the front page. I made sure to crinkle him extra tight and dunk him upside down as a show of solidarity to all women with men who have a trapdoor for a zipper.

Thursday is our office Christmas party. The planning has been hell same as every year I've been there. Pray for me people! Pray for me as you read about our Christmas past:

The longest day in history!

Back to work we go!

 

Thursday night.

Andy: Sucks you have to work tomorrow.

Me: Yep.

Andy: Maybe you shouldn't use all your vacation time so early in the year.

Me: I know. I'm going to try and save 2 days next year just for the day before and day after Thanksgiving. That way I can hit all the door buster sales.

Andy:  You know what? Maybe it's best you work the day after Thanksgiving. Our bank account appreciates it.

Boys just don't understand!

It used to be that all offices had the day off the day after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, there are a lot of companies that are finding it difficult to pay their employees so they are making them drag their asses in to work. OZ has only given us the day off once in my 4 years working there so I knew I'd have to pick up my weary bones on Friday and head to the Asylum. He normally takes the day off so it's not too painful because I can just put on a pair of sweats and not have to worry about my appearance too much. This year, however, he decided to see patients.

Friday Morning, day after Thanksgiving, I was watching the front desk for Cowardly Lion, the receptionist, while she got coffee. It was so early, my top and bottom lashes were still sealed shut.

Male patient: I would hate to work in a place that's open the day after Thanksgiving!

Me: It's no big deal. We're closing at noon so...

Patient: [leans in towards me and invades my personal space] Yeah but you still had to get up early and drive all the way over here.

Me: And me being sick and all. [coughing violently]

Patient backs away and goes to sit down. 

Later in the morning, I was watching the front desk while the receptionist went to the restroom.

Patient checking in: I was thinking of rescheduling my appointment today but I thought, if you guys were going to be open, might as well make you work hard.
[laughs hysterically]

Me: Oh, I see you're getting your cast removed today. I'll make a note on your chart so that they'll use the special saw.

Patient [jaw dropped]: The special saw?

Me: I'm just kidding! That's what I call my "bitter, day after Thanksgiving, sense of humor".

Patient: I'm sorry you have to work the day after Thanksgiving.

Me: Me too.

After the patient left, Glynda came into the business office.

Glynda: Did you tell that patient you were going to tell us to use a special saw.

Me: Yep. In my defense, he pissed me off.

Glynda: Well he told OZ.

Me [pretending not to be interested but in reality crapping my pants (in a ladylike way)]: Yeah?

Glynda: OZ laughed and told him you had a special skill set we use against attorneys and insurance companies but you weren't really a people person because of your evil streak.

Me: Here I thought I hid it well.

Glynda: I don't know what to say.

Me: "Good job?"  "You Rock?" "Don't relieve the receptionist anymore?" all of these are acceptable.

She didn't respond.

I will be turning in my vacation sheet taking the day after Thanksgiving off as soon as 2010 hits my calendar.

This is why I don't like to come in early.

I've been sitting outside for a half hour, waiting for a key holder to
come in and unlock the door.

I could have slept for another half an hour and gotten more beauty sleep. At my age, I need all the help I can get

Signs of the Apocalypse at Arkham Asylum

Just when I think things at work can't get any worse I get an unexpected kick to the crotch.

I don't know if you've noticed, OR CARE, but I have not mentioned my search for an assistant this year. It's partly because I'm a superstitious fool and I do believe that me saying the words out loud or, you know, on a post, may jinx my overworked-but-happy-not-to-have-a-moron-hanging-from-my-neck life.

Unfortunately for me, some people at the Asylum do not have enough work to do so the next "" logical "" step is to assign one of these bladdernuts to me. As my assistant.

Who was the lucky dingbat to have the honor of working with me? Scarecrow the X-ray tech. I freaked out of course because, besides thinking she knows everything about fake cheese, she is also an idiot. I reached out to the one person who I knew would sympathize, my former (AWESOME) assistant, BD. At first he was a pain in the ass because we obviously speak in different generations. My generation is smarter, stronger, nicer. His is mean, vindictive and whiney. But then he came through as he always did when he worked alongside me at the nuthouse.

This conversation took place via texts:

Bee: Dude! They want to assign Scarecrow to be my part-time assistant!!!

BD: ?????

Bee: What’s with the”?”? Did u not hear me or are u as shocked as i am?

BD: I am fucking shocked!! WTF r they thinking?

Bee: I dunno but I’m having a h-attack just thinking bout it!

BD: H-attack?

Bee: HEART attack! jeez louise u’re young dontcha know the lingo?

BD: Young people dont worry about “H-ATTACKS” we also dont say “jeez louise” or “lingo”

Bee: Don’t change the subject. What am I gonna do??

BD: Shes got bad knees just pus her.

Bee: WTF? ‘pus’ hahahahaha!! and also eww!

BD: Old people shouldnt be texting

Bee: Young people should respect their elders

BD: pfft! I like pushing them into traffic

Bee: I will save that text for when you become a slimy politician

BD: Senator I have no idea who this “bee” is

-5 hours later because I got busy working so I didn’t respond-

BD: Well?

Bee: ‘well’ what?

BD: Whats going on with the asst thing

Bee: Nothing yet. She just went around saying ‘I’m gonna be BD’

BD: Bitch

Bee: Yep with a capital STUPIDASS!

BD: She doesnt have the looks to be me

Bee: I dunno, u both look like muppets

BD: Old people start smelling funny at 37

Bee: Why are you sniffing old people? New fetish?

BD: THAT WAS DISGUSTING!

Bee: U started

BD: I was thinking about it and you should use this argument:

-A BUNCH OF MINUTES GO BY-

BD: “Her prior indiscretions demonstrate she may be prone to relay personal info at inopportune times thereby violating PHI/HIPAA making her a liability”

Bee: ::blink blink:: great idea!

BD: Thatll be $300

Bee: You learned that shit from ME for FREE fool!

BD: 300 bucks will keep me on retainer for the rest of ur life or until u turn 50

Bee: Why 50?

BD: Dont u have some psycho hit on urself?

Bee: Thanks. Now my nightmares will return

BD: I will even represent Andy in the wrongful death suit

Bee: Knowing it’s gonna happen, doesn't that make everybody accessories?

BD: As my own council, i am ending this conversation

Bee: I win! Get used to hearing that.

BD: When did you become so cruel?

Bee: That’s what old age does to a person- look at Jerry Lewis

BD: Is that the guy from the grateful dead?

Bee: No that’s Jerry Garcia he’s dead but that was more due to drugs than age. Lewis was the original nutty professor now he’s a cranky old dude.

BD: Thanks for the useless trivia- ROLLS EYES

Bee: Dont u need to shine ur snakeskin boots and go sing karaoke, country style?

BD: Thats tomorrow. Let me know how it goes with OZ. Otherwise plan b

Bee: Later!

BD: Arent u gonna ask what plan b is?

Bee: What is it?

BD: u re-hire the asst from last year.

Bee: I hate you.

BD: LMFAO theres some “lingo” for you

 

Don't tell that big headed fool that his advice actually worked. I'd never hear the end of it!

Apparently spiders and ants have had the same Sensei in the ancient art of THE NINJA (said in reverent whisper).

We've had an ant problem at the Asylum for quite some time. These aren't the cute and cuddly little red ants either. They're the big ugly black ones. People would just brush them off the table, wall, shoulder, SANDWICH and shrug as if to say "meh, I've had worse disease ridden/riddled creatures on my tuna fish!" Me? I'm not so blasé so you would typically hear my cries of "Die you exoskeleton shit eater!", some mad stomping and then my coffee would kick in.

The dramaedy didn't reach its drama until someone found an ant walking around the toilet seat (I'm hoping before they lowered their dra'ws to sit on said seat) then all hell broke loose! All of a sudden it was imperative an exterminator came and uh exterminated the ants! We are not just talking about tuna fish anymore people! Now we have them attacking us were they can do the most damage!

So we called Norm.

Norm:

Where are these alleged ants?

Us:

Everywhere.

Norm:

Well, can you tell me where you've seen them?

Us:

EvErYwHeRe!

Norm:

So not just in the kitchen??

Bee:

For shitake's sake Norm! EVERYWHERE!!

Norm:

Language young lady!-- Did you say *shitake*? Okay, I'll have an exterminator out today.

And so he was true to his word and we had an emergency visit from the bug killer. I didn't see what the dude did because it was Friday and I left at THREE ON THE DOT, after telling OZ I was not going to have our weekly Friday meeting because he had the pig virus and I'd rather he keep it to himself, but when I came in on Monday morning, I asked if he had left little invitations for all ants and their distant relatives inviting them over for a nice cup of tea. Why? Because the ants TRIPLED!

I don't know about you but to me the word "exterminate" means to destroy!, eliminate!, eradicate!, that which bugs you. Clearly there had been a misunderstanding!

After I Michael Jacksoned my way out of the kitchen, it was decided Mr. Ex-Terminator-he-ain't (head roll, finger snap) would have to come back for another once over (or as I like to call it "do your effing job and kill those suckers before they start hitching rides in my clothes!)

I suggested buying a big vat of chocolate and putting a sign on the table that said "Get your chocolate covered ants here!" but the women just wrinkled their noses at me. Yeaaah! I'm the gross one!

When the exterminator dude showed up I thought, "no wonder the ants aren't afraid of this shorts, Hawaiian shirt, tanning lotion wearing parrot head!". He walked in (announcing his presence to everybody in the waiting room) and asked us where we had seen the ants.

All together now:

Everywhere!

He was carrying a paper bag and pulled out a couple of these:

I heard tiny, mocking laughter.

This makes me wonder if exterminators need proper training and credentialing because really I could just slap on a sticker on the ass of my car that says "Bee, exterminator to the stars" and then walk around dropping these little things everywhere I go like a fumigating angel of death. Where did Norm find this guy? Cheech and Chong play Magnum PI casting rejects? Okay, I know that's mean and he must be a very nice pot smoking/Jimmy Buffet fan and I may be just lashing out because I'm tired of squirming and battling things on my face that are just wisps of my hair!

For now, I think it's safest to eat with a lunch buddy. That way, if any ninja ants are making their way towards my Lean Cuisine, there will be 4 eyes keeping vigil. Well, 8 if you count our glasses.