... it's just another manic Monday!

Man, today hit me like an out of control granny driving a tank and chewing bubble gum.

I really don't feel like getting into the the incompetence of everyone I work with because you've heard that song before and reliving it just makes me want to squeeze my eyeballs.

Anyway, in what I originally thought was the capper to my crappy day, I soon realized it was actually the highpoint of my crappy day.

I was sitting at the front desk while Cowardly Lion went to the little girls room when I noticed a patient staring at me. I thought "yep, I still got it!" but then I wondered about the guys eyesight because today was definitely not one of my *good face days*. Not that I have many. At any rate, I would look up and he would look down quickly. I would turn away again but then snap my head back to look at him and he would pretend he was interested in the ugly wall rug that resembles a sushi roll full of rotted meat and rat hair.

 

Weird.

When CL came back and I went to my desk, I pulled out my mirror so that I may admire myself and that's when I noticed I had gone about 3 hours with a blob of make up in between my eyes!

This blob was bigger than my fist!

(simulation)

Now I need to ask you, would you let your coworker walk around for hours without telling them they have goop on their forehead? Would you let them humiliate themselves by checking people in and out when up at the front desk while CL empties her bladder or fills it with coffee? Would you let them go into a room and translate for a patient without so much of a mimed forehead rub from across the room??

I mean, I wouldn't have said anything to them either but this office should only have one vicious vindictive witch and I'm planning on keeping my thrown until it's pried from my cold dead ass. 

P.S.

Don't ask me why I didn't notice it myself upon leaving my house because I will be forced to beat you with a piano.

The flush heard around the world.

You know how some people suffer from shy bladders? Not me! I'm never self conscious when I use a public bathroom. I go in there, do my bizness and then exit stage left as quick as I can. However, on Monday day of the lord October 5th, I had a couple of weird bathroom encounters (not like George Michael's bathroom encounters, okay?) that shook my confidence to its core. I know it's hard to imagine me trembling in a corner while pulling out my eyebrows but there you have it.

Usually, when I use the public ladies-room, it's empty and I don't have to compete with anyone for the primo first stall. On Monday, I walked in and went to push the door so I could go in but there was something odd about the door. I couldn't quite figure out what because my brain stopped functioning at this strange change to my routine.

I stood in front of the door, what must have only been about 3 seconds, but I'm sure to the person inside the stall, with their pants down, it probably seemed an eternity.

When the old wheezing hamster that resides in my brain finally sent the message that it was locked because somebody was inside, I took that extra step and opened the handicapped stall.

I couldn't help but wonder what my neighbor was thinking. Would she walk out and report me to Norm? As I sat with my feet dangling, the handicapped toilet is way higher than the regular one which doesn't make any sense because people who typically use the handicapped stall ARE HANDICAPPED, wouldn't they have a harder time than I, with my semi functioning limbs, to get on that toilet, I wondered why my brain reacted so slowly. Sure, it was Monday and Mondays are famous for their torturing of innocents but I still should have been able to walk into the bathroom and registered the new door development without so much as pause. Meh. I shrugged and decided to not ponder too much so early in the morning. (I know it seems like I must have been in there a long time but I "think" REALLY fast)

Later in the day, I went back into the bathroom and sighed with relief because the first stall was empty. I couldn't have been in there for more than 30 seconds when the main door to the bathroom opened. I peeked through the crack (uhhh the crack on the stall's wall) and my gaze collided with an eyeball!

Damn pervert! But then I decided to let bygones because it may have been an accidental peek (maybe she too couldn't believe someone was in the first stall).

I heard the other stall door open and then I heard a groan. I thought 'what a weirdo!' and then finished up by bidness. When I opened my stall door, there was the eyeball attached to a whole person. Standing right outside my stall! I could have kissed her she was that close!

Guess what I did. I froze again.

It was like the earlier incident all over again! It took me a few seconds to realize she was waiting for me to come out of my stall so she may use it. When I finally went to move, she did too so we did that awkward mambo step (you know the one, right? where you step to the right and the other person steps to the left but you stepped to their left and they stepped to your right thereby canceling out each others step? my head hurts) until I broke free of the rhythm (not unusual since I seemed to have lost my rhythm back in the 90s) (okay 80s)(okay birth) and sidestepped her so that I may wash my hands.

There is nothing more awkward than the "I'm trying to get by" mambo unless it's the "I'm in the bathroom trying to get by" mambo. It's even weirder because neither she nor I wanted to make eye contact so we would look up quickly, mutter something (mine came out like 'sooprry')(sorry-oops) then try again.

Anyway, once I was washing my hands, I questioned how I had left the toilet 'did I make sure all the TP went into the bowl?' (Because let's remember that I always line the seat. I've been doing it since I was 6 and my parents took us to see Bambi at the drive-in and my mom showed me how to line the seat so that I wouldn't get any awful diseases. Like stupidity.) I again shrugged and thought it was no longer my problem.

The rest of the day, I tried holding it (and by 'it', I don't mean 'IT') but when I felt my eyeballs floating, I took my chances and prayed for the best.

I grab the bathroom key from the wall and open the office door.
I peek my head out, look from side to side. CLEAR!
I walk quickly to the bathroom. Insert bathroom key, twist, shove door, hurt arm because, in my frenzy, I didn't twist the key all the way, try again, the door opens.
I scan the place quickly. Empty.
I push the door to the first stall, lock it, [censored], sit down.

I wasn't in there more than 10 seconds when some wild gorilla starts rattling the bathroom door handle! I have to say I'm glad I was already on the pot when it happened because I may have peed myself from shock!
I hurry up, exit the stall, wash my hands and open the door. There is nobody out there! Am I nuts? Don't answer that.

I walk back to the office and no sooner do I open the door when this big, loud lady starts yelling at me!

Big loud lady:
Didn't you hear me knocking at the door???

Bee [while handing over the key]:
Didn't you hear me peeing? Did you want me to stop midstream, hobble out and unlock the door?

BLL:
::gasp::

2 other women in the waiting room chuckle.

And I'm baaack!

Aliens, Julia Childs, Nemo*! Movies that are polar opposites!

**This post is brought to you from under my blankies while I'm valiantly fighting off what I'm hoping isn't the flu but it feels very flu-y to me which sucks and my beloved Nyquil seems to be too far for me to reach which only leaves me the option to call out for Andy but that just takes too much energy so instead I'm gonna try and devise a rope toss fashioned out of toilet paper and hope it's strong enough to pull it to my my side. Or maybe I'll just sleep. Anyway, I decided to raid my draft folder for post that didn't quite make the cut so if they suck you know why. Like always, I absolve myself of any actual blame for being mediocre. God! I feel like an alien is trying to claw his way out of my throat! If I survive, and I'm not amongst the 30-90,000 predicted victims of the swine flu (relax, I don't really think I have the swine flu just a plain old regular phlem producing flu but the flu is the flu no matter what fancy name you give it. kinda like a rose I guess), I'll see you guys next week.**

Last Monday, Labor Day, Andy and I went to a double feature. Let's step back for a second so we may discuss the meaning of a *double feature*. In the olden days, days of poodle skirts, sock hops, the ability to disguise hickies via a kicky polka dot scarf and girls who would go away to visit aunts in other states for about 8-9 months and come back all weepy and smoking cigarettes, a double feature was something you paid oh I don't know, a nickel, to see two movies.

It was usually at the drive-in (and you would really only see one because you were typically too involved doing other things, like knitting) and you had those metal box thingies you'd attach to your window (the last time I went to a drive-in, Before-Andy, we had to tune our radio to a certain station and what fun is that? I used to love forgetting to remove the metal speaker thing and then remember when I couldn't put my window up while driving on the highway!) (by the way, I know I went to see Wolf with Jack Nicholson but I can't remember what the second movie was. . .).

In the year 2009, we did not pay a nickel to see 2 movies and instead paid $14 to see one movie (matinee), went home and then came back to pay $18 for the second movie.

The first movie we saw was District 9, totally Andy's pick. I liked it well enough but I wouldn't recommend it to everybody. For example, I'd tell my brothers Rick and Sergio to go see it but I'd discourage my brother Dan and sister Nancy from seeing it. Because of their delicate sensibilities.

The movie left me with more questions than I care to live with after seeing a movie but I don't want to voice those questions for 2 reasons. One, you wouldn't know what I'm talking about and two, I don't feel like ruining it for other people. Maybe tomorrow.

We left the theater and went home to feed the dogs, feed fish, and load clothes in the washer (BECAUSE I NOW HAVE THAT OPTION).

We went back to the movie theater to see Julie and Julia. I learned a few things about myself that day.

The first was that I can simultaneously make fun of old men who sit in yellow corvette convertibles while parked in a handicapped section and jamming to Barry White's "can't get enough of your love baby" all the while I'm dry heaving.

The second is that I hate watching people eat in movies. In real life too but I don't really have an option if I'm to socialize with others but in movies I want to throw things at the screen. But not my nachos. People in movies love to chew and talk. Chew, talk, then pick up their drinks and attempt to do all 3 things at once. Why? Do directors think that the entire population was raised by Brad Pitt's character in Kalifornia (he picked his feet on the kitchen table while eating, if I remember correctly).

The third is that I hate watching people kiss. In real life too but I usually just spray them with toilet water but in the movies I get all sorts of the ickies. Especially when those kissing are people in their senior years (because now they're also kissing to "can't get enough of your love baby" in my head). Sorry, I don't mean to sound like an age-ist but that's how I feel and the last I heard I had the right to feel icked out at whatever I wanted.

Also, if anybody has seen that movie, do you remember the part where that Julie chick is saying "Bon Appetite" over and over then her husband says it like 3 times and then starts mauling her and the last time he says it he practically throws his junk in her face? How boorish right? He was all "Bon Appetite, here's my crotch!" I whispered that to Andy and he sprayed the old ladies in front of us with soda.

True Story.

*If you're wondering where Nemo comes into the whole story because he was in the title, he doesn't. I think Nemo's dead. Tell your children.

**I just read this and now I know why I didn't hit publish but you know what? I'm sweating right now and cold at the same time so I'm going to hit publish anyway. Tazz keeps crying. Can dogs predict the future? Is he trying to tell me something?**

Mondays and I are like 2 pigeons having a pissing contest.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Antibiotics and you. First step stop being a whoooooore.

P.P.S.
Damn! I have too much to say today!

Milton is looking up side effects on the antibiotics she’s taking. Now she is self diagnosing herself with a lot of other diseases, “she feels swollen, is having palpitations, her joints hurt”.

How about safe sex next time, Milton?

Just kidding.

Also, the paint fumes are making me sleepy and happy. That’s 2 out of the seven dwarfs, right? My Snow White is a little rusty. That’s what she said!

I am so mean.

El bizarro lunes.

I think some of you who have been around this place for a while are aware I dislike Mondays with the same intensity Andy hates ogres with hatchets.

The events that have taken place today warrant a Monday post.

To start my day, I woke up 2 hours late for work. TWO HOURS. I got to work and was shocked to see the walls have been painted a nice institutional gray. The Asylum now looks the part of, well, an Asylum.

Since today is Tinman’s birthday, he brought his ““cake”” (a big cookie) but he has decided he does not want us to sing to him. The nerve!! I’ve had rave reviews on my singing, mostly by kids who love my rendition of “If you wantta be a grump that’s okay but try and be a grump a little further away. It’s not that I don’t love you cuz you know I do. Sometimes I’m grumpy too!”, but to deny yourself the pleasure of my rancid honey voice is just your loss! Who brings a big cookie instead of cake anyway?? Cheap bastard.

Then I had to use the ladiesroom for the 100th time because it’s cold in this here nuthouse and as I was walking in, a woman (who must have been stashing a bar full of smokers in her coat) came out waddling and said “I feel like I just gave birth!”

Holy sphincter Batman! That was way too much information!

It’s only 11:45 and I feel like this is going to be a helluva day! And also because Andy is forcing me to go to the laundromat today.

Help me Mom R!! You’re my only hope!

Don’t forget, tomorrow is my infamous Interview with a Vegetarian.

P.S. to Tracy:
It’s not that you are not interesting but this vegetarian doesn’t have a blog where we may read her many adventures in vegetable slaying. It’s only fair we shine a bright light on her shenanigans.

Today I flipped off a patient and rearranged my boobs in front of the window because I forgot it gets dark earlier and people can see IN.

Well, the title says it all so…

DISMISSED!

humor-blogs

What I need is hazard pay for all the purple nurples!

So…

Glynda’s on vaca until Thursday, which is just as well since she and I had an issue over the brain dead assistant. Here is a brief synopsis: OZ wanted a report on what she had accomplished. I typed it up and left nothing out. HE went berserk and tore Glynda a new one, before my very eyes, for not firing her! More on her on Friday.

Anyway, she’s the only nurse on Mondays so Scarecrow needed help with an older patient who has Alzheimer’s.

I volunteered like so:

“Ask Milton. Oh, she's in the bathroom? Where’s Tin-Man? The hospital making rounds? Crap! Okay.”

She needed help putting him on the X-Ray table so I helped. Then she asked me to fix his pillow. So I did.
And do you know what that DIRTY OLD BASTARD DID???
.
He. Grabbed. My. Boobs!!!!

You know, the ones I took off the market when I married Andy? Those!

SWEET HOLY FAMILY!

I almost died of shock right there! Only I controlled myself because my tender pechugas would have landed on his face. That's okay, he thinks OZ charges a lot, wait till he gets MY bill!

So now we have to amend Bee’s Rules for patients.

1) I will not watch your kid if you’re coming in for an exam. You can lock him/her in one of our closets.

2) I will not take your co-pay. Wait for the receptionist to come back from her pee break since I can't handle the pressure of putting a 20 into an envelope.

3) I will not get you a cup off coffee (the fuck??). I’m not your servant. If you ask me for one, you will see mild mannered ME turn into Red Face Spittle Woman!

4) I will not give you a lollipop if you are over 18. (unless you are a really hot guy)(hey, these are my rules and I can make any exceptions I want!) I will ask for ID (if you're hot I might linger in the bushes outside of your house). Don't use the excuse of having bad breath either because you can always carry mints.

5) Do not talk to me while we are passing each other in the hallway. You are a patient therefore beneath me.

And the new added rule:

6) You cannot grab my boobs! No! Bad! No grabby boobies! No! (unless you are a really hot guy)

You can, however, ogle me from afar. Maybe bring me some presents. I wouldn’t object to that.
.
HEY! Watch your hands! You can't grab my butt either! (unless...)

▼▼▲▲▼▼▲▲▼▼▲▲▼▼▲▲▼▼▲▲▼▼▲▲▼▼▲▲▼▼▲▲▼▼▲▲

I want to thank Brian for scaring the ever lovin' CRAP out of me(!) by doing this post about my creepy stalker! Because of that I had to drink this very delicious pomegranate Mojito. Thanks Brian! I hope you're happy!


Humor-Blogs

Airheadabic for dummies

Hi! I'm P-T S, Bee's assistant, and I've taken over her blog for the day. I decided to come over and tell you what a day with me really is like.
It's not fair that you get the story only from Bee's perspective, let's face it, she can be sanctimonious and demanding.

Here we go!

8:26

Okay, let me punch in now... hmmm the time clock seems to be broken! Maybe if I unplug it...? I know I've only been working here a week and don't know what the consequences will be but I'm sure it'll be fine.
Huh. It's still not working only now it has 3 dashes and doesn't seem to be registering the time or day.
I better go get Bee.

Oh no, she has that weird eye twitching thing again. Oh, she just told me the time clock wasn't broken I was putting my time card in wrong and now it was going to take the time clock 24 hours to reset.
Oopsie!

Okay, now she wants me to finish the report I was doing last week. She says it should have been done already. Oh well!
Let's see, we saved it on Excel but maybe if I click on Adobe...?
Huh? I can't find my file!
What did I name it again? Something like Dog Sniffers Anonymous?? No. It was my initials plus the name of the report she gave me but I'm not sure...
I'll just waste 2 hours clicking aimlessly through Adobe.

::sigh:: I should ask her I guess but she's got that 'fuck off' look to her that makes my stomach have gas pains. Oh! I know! I'll just ask Milton since she seems to know EVERYTHING!
Wow. She sure does talk a lot. How did we get to talking about her underwear?
I'll just bite the bullet and ask Bee.

Oh-oh. I think I did something wrong. Both her eyebrows are having spasms and her ears look like tiny red peppers. I guess I should have told her I needed help right away.
Oopsie!

Ooh I just remembered that song from Chili's "Chili's baby back ribs Chili's baby back ribs! Barbecue sauce!"
I used to love that song! I wonder why they don't show it on TV anymore?

I'm so hungry! I think I might--- Oh she is saying something and I wasn't paying attention but the last thing I heard was "very important". Should I ask her what's "very important"? Naw. She's already super pissed at me, I'll just wing it.

Okay, she's going to lunch at her sister's and I'm to finish the day with the receptionist. What did she tell me to do before I close the Excel report?? She just said it was very important. I wish I had listened, oh well!

Okay, close program.
Do I want to save changes I made to excel? No! I don't want to mess anything up! Phew! That would have been so bad! Who knows what she would have done to me!

She's back from lunch. What? Did I save the changes I made to the report? Yes. But I didn't save changes I made to Excel I almost did but I-- what? I don't understand? I SHOULD have saved the changes to Excel? Now I've lost everything I entered?
Oopsie!

There she goes, off like a little Tasmanian devil, sounds like one too because... is she speaking in another language?
I think I just heard her ask for an Advil? I wonder why her head hurts? Oh! She said Anvil! Is that what they constantly dropped on Wile E. Coyote?? I used to love those cartoons I wonder why they don't show them anymore? Too violent probably. I don't like the new cartoons-- Oh! It's 2:30! Time to go. Bye guys! See you tomorrow! I really really LOVE THIS JOB!

Oh no, I have to go tell Bee the time clock isn't working again!
Hey, that maroon blouse she's wearing matches her cheeks!
I wonder if that color would look good on me-- SPLAT!



Sorry guys, due to a tragic anvil accident P-T S could not finish her story. If you leave comments, please leave them in Airheadabic so she'll understand what you're saying.

Little did I know the mosquito I killed would come back to haunt me.

Today was going to be a special day. My new assistant was starting her descent into the gas-hole I lovingly call Arkham Asylum. She was going to experience first hand, the mindless scenarios we take too seriously.

Are you asking for examples? Well, there's the why didn’t you bring back the kitchen towel, who moved the cheese, who moved the sausage, who ate the crackers, who brought expired coffee, last but not least, who has been eating the butt cake.

Let’s take a peek at how this glorious day started, shall we?

I woke up at an ungodly hour (SIX! BEFORE THE SUN EVEN) to hear my dogs trying to chew their way through the center of one Andy Husband. He was able to defeat the 15 lb beasts by throwing dog treats and running so he could leave for work but this left me with a massive headache.

I dragged my sleepy butt out of bed to get ready for work. I decided to dress for the occasion, the occasion being digging myself out of a mountain of paperwork for six blessed weeks, and chose a calming peasant blouse matched with a flowing skirt.

When I looked in the mirror, my calming peasant blouse made me look 7 months pregnant so that came off right away. I searched in my closet for something else that might inspire warmth and respect and found one that complimented my Rosacea rosy cheeks, my bloodshot sparkling eyes and my frizzy luscious hair.

I grabbed my brown suede shoes, the ones I wear only to special occasions like tap-dancing on the graves of my enemies, completed my look with some gaudy jewelry and was on my way to work. Early, by the way!
.
I set up her work station, grabbed my coffee and waited patiently for my part time savior. There I was, sipping my coffee, looking tired, frizzy, anxious, desperate, drooly…
.
I glanced at my watch, oopsie! It’s 8:35 and she’s not here yet! Hmmm, punctuality is a must for me. Okay, not so much but I was wondering who’s late on their first day? I’m always EARLY on my first days. I make a good impression and once they lower their expectations BAM! I start coming in half an hour late!

I had drifted into a reverie (does one drift into a reverie or am I thinking river?) when Glynda came to my desk and told me Part-time Savior called and couldn’t make it in today because she had a dentist appointment.

::sigh:: We all know this is code for “I have another interview with a better position and better paying job but I don’t want to lose this one in case I don’t get the other one.”

More power to her and I do hope she gets the other job but phookit! I’m back to square one!

To top things off, one of my awesome brown suede shoes decided to mutilate a mosquito bite I had on my Achilles heel and is now my own personal little distributor of torture!
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Would you like a side platter of annoyance with your disappointed painful Monday?
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OZ asked me to call in his lunch order. It was 9:30 and I didn’t want to forget so I called up the restaurant and some dude answered.

Bee:
Hi, I’d like to place a delivery order for noon.

Numbnuts:
We don’t open until 10.

Bee:
Okay? Can I still place an order for NOON?

Numbnuts:
I’m the only one here.

Bee:
I don’t know what that means. Are you trying to offer me a job? Because I’d like to counter offer that with CAN I PLACE AN ORDER FOR A NOON DELIVERY??

Numbnuts:
Hold ON.

puts me on hold.

[Are you in the mood for our authentic Italian sausage? How about our Polish dog? Be sure to ask about our catering menu. We now deliver to 10 suburbs. Don’t forget our famous milkshakes! AS LONG AS YOU CALL AFTER 10:00 AM]

Numbnuts:
Can you call back at 10?

Bee:
Sure. What’s the name of the manager?

Numbnuts:
Why?

Bee:
Because when I call back I’m going to tell him you deserve a raise! What do you mean “why”?

Numbnuts:
Fine! I’ll take your order!

Bee:
Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you… [I hang up]
.
Remember I worked at a Brown’s Chicken where, if you were punched in and the phone rang, you had to pick it up and take care of the PAYING CUSTOMERS! Did we like answering the phone 2 hours before we opened?

No, but if you’re getting paid to do a job, how about you DO IT and not give me any shit?

For those of you bleeding hearts wanting to defend Numbnuts, this was not my first encounter with him and he has taken my order before as early as 9:00 AM.

In the amount of time he argued with me, he could have written down
-Turkey Sandwich- Address- Noon-.

Hell, he had time to recite the Gettysburg Address and name the states by order of induction into this, our freedomlicious country!
.
And so ends another Monday. Excuse me while I go kick some dirt on it.

What happens when you throw a sane person into an asylum?

So...

Monday was a 2 cups of coffee type of day.

I normally only drink one because more than that has me doing a Michael Flatley Lord of the Dance routine under my desk.

It was also the day I realized that nothing surprises me anymore.

Not even seeing Milton walk into the office bathroom, see a new roll of TP, then dig thru the garbage can and get the discarded cardboard TP roll.

While I’m not surprised she did this disgusting thing (think about it, putting your bare hands in a bathroom garbage can where people dispose of used Kleenexes and lord knows what else!), I did wonder what posses someone to be so Obsessive Compulsive about recycling.

My worry is that, pretty soon, she will lose all grips on reality and instead of just picking up plastic bottles left in the parking lot, she'll be following bums around asking them if they're done with the bottle they just peed in so she can recycle it.

I appreciate the fact that she is singlehandedly making the world a better place for future slackers but maybe she should think about carrying some sort of biodegradable bio-hazard suit thing.

You!

The smart one reading this!

Can you invent one and send it over to our hero of the future please? I don't want her spreading her germs since she touches my stuff sometimes and it creeps me out!

If you don't believe she goes thru my desk, please see Exhibits A & B.

I went to lunch but set a little trap for her before I left. The scary part? I am torn on who gets the crazy prize in this case!

.

Milton for acting like Milton or me for staging elaborate set ups to catch the recycling perp!

.

Humor-Blogs

Can I hire TWO hotties??

After my Friday boxing match meeting with OZ, (where he wondered why certain accounts are not being worked on and I responded by saying that the cloning machine was defective, it did not produce 20 Bees like I had hoped but it did clear up my complexion) he has now given me authorization to hire my summer assistant.

At first, I was a little upset because this would mean I’d have to dedicate valuable time to training a newbie in the art of Office Bat Mocking… I just don’t have the energy for it.

Then, I became angry because it would totally cut into my blog reading and we all know this is what keeps me, in a harmonious balance nobody alive would benefit by shifting, both sane and insane. Can you imagine me sane? Neither can I.

After listing the pros and cons, I’ve decided to be happy for the chance of corrupting another young mind.

Here is a small list of duties I came up with:

Get here on time to sign me in (where he will wait half an hour for me to arrive but that’s okay because he can make coffee while waiting).

Dust my desk (you’re probably thinking this is an easy task but he would have to move all my junk meticulous files and then put them back exactly where they were)

Once I arrive, get my coffee. (I’d do it myself but I’d already be running late)

Heat up my lunch.

Take Mocha to the groomers.

Take my clothes to the dry-cleaners.

Pick it up when it’s ready.

...

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Uh, this is all I have for now. I would like to add that I’m hoping the following people apply for this coveted position:
.
Brad Pitt
Orlando Bloom
Ryan Reynolds

BRAD PITT
David Beckham
Any other hot actors/musicians/sports dudes

If you know any of them and think they would be willing to work for minimum wage and doing menial tasks, let them know to fax their résumés with a picture of themselves in provocative poses to my attention.
.
Maybe somebody over at Humor-Blogs would like to apply to be my whipping boy?

P.S.
I’m just kidding. They wouldn’t have to get my coffee. Everybody knows I’m very particular about how I drink my coffee.
.

P.S.S.

An added bonus is that I am a very cool boss. Very cool. And fun.

.

.

I am a tad impatient.

All I need is ONE cup of coffee just ONE! Until I have it, I guess you can say I'm not very pleasant.

Hey! Guess what? Today was fuckin' Monday! Well, it technically still is I guess but I’m fast forwarding my mind and making it Tuesday because I can’t bear another second of this awful freakin’ day!

I consider myself to be a nice person.

No, really! I AM nice!

I don’t go around bashing in people’s heads unless I’m provoked! I don’t go around making fun of people unless they do something stupid and then KEEP doing it.

It = anything that annoys me.

IT can also equal breathing, depending on my mood but whatever.

Anyway.

As the nice person I claim to be am, I made the coffee at the Asylum this morning even though it wasn't my turn. My logic was, the sooner it’s made, the sooner it can find its way into my veins. After giving it a reasonable amount of time to brew, I beeped CL bitch from hell receptionist and asked her if she’d like to go get her coffee first while I watched the phones. That was nice right? Putting her caffeine addiction before mine? When we all know that the world is a better place AFTER I’ve had my coffee?

And what does this numbnutts do?? She has a whole conversation with the punishor of speech, Milton . You know, the one that will regale you with the colors of socks she hunts for at the mall on weekends.

I could hear them chattering in the middle of the hall while my hands were getting shaky and my lip was trembling and my foot was jerking ready to kick somebody’s ass… Hey! I think I might have a problem but who cares! I just want my coffee!

So I got up, walked over to them and said “Okay, my turn.” forcing CL to run to answer the ringing phone.

Who do you think was the bad guy? Me!

I’m sorry but 20 minutes is way too long to wait for someone to come back from pouring a cup of coffee. Yes, I understand these people are soocially challenged but you know what? I gotta look after numero uno! Well, Andy is numero uno so I’d be numero dos.

For the rest of the day, both of them gave me the glarey-bitch-silent-treatment. What they don't know is that I INVENTED the glarey-bitch-silent-treatment! So there!

And to put the shit topper on my shitty sundae, my mom has decided to lengthen her stay until the end of July!

THE END OF JULY.

I know what you're thinking "Stop your whining you big baby!"

Don't make me go over there!

Andy and I have been surviving but just barely. We try to persuade people to invite us over for dinner but I think they're finally on to us. Maybe it was the containers we bring to take leftovers.

Maybe it was the fact that we drop in on them unexpectedly at say, midnight, and just raid their fridge. I don't know but their lack of food is getting on my nerves.

I'm tired of cooking! I want some nice homemade Mexican food! I need me some Espinazo, Caldo de Pollo Guisado, Carne de Oinko en Chile.
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Okay, it's not just about the food. My mom and I have a very close relationship. We see each other everyday and bond over Saturday morning coffee. She yells at me for not looking after the Numero Uno Husband and hates that I don't have kids but we learn to shelve these issues like all great families do.
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My sister, my mom and I are so freakin close! Oh and Dan too cuz he's a momma's boy and it isn't natural to be 31 and still calling her mommy. It's only acceptable if you're a girl. Then it's okay to be 35 and still calling her mommy.
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You know what else happened today? George Carlin DIED. Well, he died on Sunday which I think is ironic considering all his jokes about the sabbath. I know it wasn't technically on Monday but Monday is when I found out! I went over to visit Leigh and it was like a punch to the gut! I loved that dirty old bastard! Now all I have is my weird fascination for Eddie Izzard. I think we might wear the same size shoes.

I hate Mondays
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I know a lot of people did their tributes to him already but work had me too busy to update the blogus. Below is one of my favorite bits from his HBO special and it's regarding the 10 commandments. If you are overly sensitive about all subjects but are a fanatic about religion, you probably shouldn't watch it. If you have a sense of humor and can laugh without thinking too seriously on the issues, please watch it. If you're mad at me for this whole paragraph, you really really shouldn't click play.

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Please click on Humor-Blogs on your way out. Do it for George!

P.S.

If you're thinking my rants are bullshit, I kinda agree now that I've had my coffee. ;op