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!

And now, just for you jean knee, some Milton!

So, as some of you may know, Milton is Arkham Asylum's *female* accountant (I'm pointing out that she's female because I gave her a male name and people always call her *he* or *him* and she's not either). As a person, I like her very much and she's been to my house and we've done yard sales and also skipped hand in hand through a field of daisies. Sometimes, however, she has me questioning God's plan.

Anyway, tomorrow (or if you're reading this on Friday it's today and if you're reading this 6 months from now it was 8/20 and if you're reading this in the future, pick me out the winning lottery numbers) is her birthday so as is tradition here in the Asylum, she had to bring her cake in on Thursday (because everything is celebrated on Thursday due to the fact that OZ is in surgery and therefore does not make an appearance).

We prepared the cake by lighting the candles and then waited for her to walk into the kitchen so we could *surprise* her with the cake she brought in. When we saw her shadow rounding the corner, we yelled out "surprise" and sang Happy Birthday (I did a little dance for her too. Luckily there is no video evidence of this tomfoolery!) and then we waited patiently while she cut the cake.

Well, "waited patiently" may be exaggerating a bit because the cutting of the cake took a FREAKIN life of its own!

Please, come in and observe.

Milton [as she sticks knife in cake]: Oh dear! I went slightly off center.

Me, Cowardly Lion, Scarecrow, Toto (and the new addition to the team, uh, we'll call her Lucy and I'll tell you about her another time)(hopefully): ::unbelieving stare::

Milton: I think I will cut it in 4 pieces first and then divide it from there. [stands back to take a better look, in the meantime, the knife is at a 789 degree angle, in the cake]

Me: I don't care if my piece is lopsided. I'll just eat it with my head tilted at an angle so that will even it out.

Milton [squinting, looking for imaginary lines]: No, I'll slide the knife a little to the right and it should be fine. [slides knife and stands back again to inspect the results][I AM NOT EVEN MAKING THIS SHIT UP!]

Me [I put my hand on the knife's handle]: Uhm, how about I just cut the cake so we can get on with the eating?? I NEED SUGAR! [okay, I probably didn't need it because I was already all buzzed up on the 'feine ]

Milton [slaps my hand away]: Hey! At least I'm not doing what I do at home!

Me: I'm afraid to ask . . .

Milton [looks at me and adjusts her glasses]: I use a tape measure, of course!

Me, Cowardly Lion, Scarecrow, Toto and Lucy: ::unbelieving stare, mouth wide open::

Milton [looks at us with a serious smile]: Who wants the first symmetrical piece?

Bee takes you back in time again but this time, she asks that you keep your clothes on!

So, since I obviously missed posting about some uber important happenings in my life, which I'm sure you guys are bummed out about [winky face], I will have a new series called "Bee Muses Flashback Edition" and when you see that, I want you to picture that weird wave they do on a TV sitcom when the characters scrunch up their face to simulate deep thought or a memory sequence and then they make the screen go all wavy and they play that harp music. Got it? Good!

So here is the first installment:

*Dorooroodorooroodorooroo (Wayne's World! Picture Wayne's World!)*

At the beginning of time, the powers that be at Arkham Asylum instituted Treat Day and designated Thursday as the day to fill the tiny kitchenette with saturated fat. Mmmmm!

For over 20 years women would complain about what some people brought and practically dry hump others that brought their favorite homemade goodies (I'm glad I was always in the other category!) For over 20 years, every Thursday, one unlucky woman would be in charge of making all the other dissatisfied women happy by bringing in cupcakes, cheese, crackers, spreads, chips, peanuts, cakes, dips and wretched, awful fruits and veggies (that was me and let me tell you that I would get hell for daring to eat healthy!). Religiously, every Thursday, after morning meeting, there would be a shuffle to the kitchenette and ladies would announce their verdict on how the poor lost soul fared on her day. Every Thursday, that is, until a certain shawty decided she had had enough. It was time to break this unhealthy tradition of woman bashing and unhealthy fat consumption. That woman, ladies and gents (I had originally typed *ladies IN gents* because that is where my mind is dontcha know?), was yours truly!

[hold for applause]

I gathered my strength because I knew this battle would be another one for the Arkham Archives and brought up the subject at morning meeting.

"Ladies, on this great day in April, I propose we no longer have a weekly treat day.

--loud murmur interruption-

Let me finish. I ask that we only have treat day once a month as supposed to on a weekly basis.

--gasps!-

Hear me out. Now that PD has retired, Milton has become obsessed with the amount of times she has to be Treat Marm per year.

--Milton: Well, I. Well. Yes. I. Too many times. Ratio versus calculus and variable.

I personally am sick and tired of hearing about it. What say you, kind and beautiful womenfolk?"

SILENCE

[I clear my throat] "Okay, if not once a month how about not at all?"

--Mutterings were heard: "Heathen! Selfish! Nice hair!"

[I gather my whacking stick] "Erm, so, yay or nay?"

 
Glynda: I leave it for the majority to rule.

Out, in the far far distance, I see one hand slowly rise. Milton! I knew you'd come through for me buddy! Then a second hand pops up. CL! I knew you'd jump on my wagon because I control your pee breaks! Then, one last hand makes its way up (well, it's really 2 hands but I count SC and Toto as one because they lovingly share one brain) (what? I'm not mean! I said *lovingly!) and I breathe a sigh of relief and lower my whacking stick.

So, after 20-something years, one woman has done what no one else has had the chocolate balls to do. I have successfully eliminated weekly treat day!! Woohoo!

::confetti!!::

Yep. I have proved that if I set my mind on it, I can accomplish anything! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to turn my electric bill into money and Tazz into a maid.

Norm!

I was walking to the mailbox located in the building today and I saw Norm standing by the entrance. Having a lot of work to do but not really caring, I went over to say hi and see if there was anything new.

Me: What's shakin bakin?

Norm [looks at me sideways]: Who are you, Chuck Woolery?

Me: Who?

Norm: Never mind. I can smell the weather changing. Pretty soon I'm gonna have a couple of hundred people ragging on me because of the icy parking lot.

Me: jerks.

Norm [shrugs]: You can't please everybody. Some people complain that we drop too much salt and [uses high pitched whiney voice] their pretty shoes are getting ruined. I ask them all if they fell on their heads one too many times and think they're living in Hawaii. This is Chi-freakin-cago for cripes sake! Know that when you walk out the door your ass may be skating through the parking lot.

Me: I bought sensible winter shoes last year to prevent exactly that.

Norm: The plastic surgeon used to give me a lot of guff. I'm interested to see if he says anything this year. If he does I'll say "Dr, you and I can both appreciate being between a rock and a hard place." HAHAHAHAHA!! Get it?

Me: Will you yell at me if I say 'no'?

Norm: Do I have to spell it out for you? A rock? A hard place? I caught him shnooping his assistant? Come on! I've been practicing that for months!

Me: That is way far off, Norm. Maybe say something like "Are you worried your assistant will hurt her knees?" Eh?? That ones free.

Norm: That makes no sense. Hey, what is with that pale woman who works in your office? She plugged the toilet and kept flushing until it overflowed!

Me: Whaaa?? When? Which pale one?

Norm: The one who walks with her butt up in the air [Milton!]. I was coming out of the utility room and she bumped into me and told me the toilet overflowed
and then proceeded to give me a detailed description of what she'd done in there! That woman is a nugget away from the chicken farm!

Me: ::blink blink:: . . .  . . .  BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Norm: I asked her why she kept flushing! If the water wasn't going down, it was going to come UP! How many fancy colleges did she go to?? She said she thought that with enough [air quotes] "momentum" it would be fine. I said, "Lady, a plugged toilet doesn't fix itself!" but the worst part was that she wanted to help me fix it then clean it up. She kept trying to take the mop until I told her she was violating building codes. Then she just stood there watching me. I
had to pretend someone called me so that I could walk away.

Me: Yep. She is persistent.

[Suddenly he straightens himself up and starts yelling at an old man.]

"Hey! Make sure you don't drive over the curb this time, okay?"

[Old man ignores him.]

Norm: So I come back a few minutes later and she's still standing there waiting for me! In the same exact spot! I asked her if she was a robot- did you ever see that movie Starman? She's like that alien guy! What does she do in your joint?

Me: That is up for debate.

Norm: I think I'd chew my arm off if I had to deal with her on a daily basis. Then I'd jump into a shark tank.

Me: Yep. That's pretty much how I feel everyday. She's a nice person though and tries really hard but . . .

Norm: Have you resorted to drinking yet?

[stops talking and yells at the same old guy he told not to drive on the curb who was currently driving on the curb]

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU OLD MAN!!"

[old man flips him off]

Norm & Me: Old People!

 

And that's when I realized something. If Norm were 30 years younger, he'd be my best friend.

The true test of intelligence is finding a way to cheat by just stumbling upon it blindly. Yes it is!

As a way to help our home economics, I have been looking for a part time job.
Andy is dead set against it because I will not be at his bellow and call ("Bee! I can't find my slippers!" while he's wearing said slippers)  but I look at it as a way to push ourselves over that little slump. He finally said he'd stop giving me crap about it but suggested I look for something I liked. I told him I liked buying shoes but I doubted there was anybody out there willing to pay me to buy myself shoes.
I decided to just put as many applications out in the hopes of getting a few nibbles. I think any job would do because I don't feel like anything is *beneath me*. Except being a hooker. I draw the line at that.
In this day and age, applications are mostly taken online. I applied to most of the retail giants and then decided to apply to a couple of places near me, one of them being a craft store with locations all over the US.
To be honest, I don't know the difference between lace and tulle but I thought I could BS my way through the application. See example answer to the question "why do you love crafts":
"I love crafts because it gives me the opportunity to bond with my 6 y/o niece over something productive!"
It sounds like something I would say, right?
However! I did not count on the online application consisting of 3 parts. 3 parts! To work in a place that sells googly eyes.
DO THEY KNOW WHO I AM? I WORK AT ARKHAM ASYLUM!
This application was more time consuming than the one I had just completed for a drugstore that sells, you know, DRUGS!
Here are the 3 parts.
Personal:
Where they ask you for your address, work experience and if it's okay to do a credit and background check.
Mmm okay? I promise to pay off those boots once I get the job and I'm pretty sure I was cleared of the library incident where I "accidentally" walked out with a book in my bag when I was 9 .
That was the easy part and only took about 2 minutes to fill out.
Next we have:
Common Sense/Problem Solving/Intelligence:
This test/questionnaire had 60 questions with a disclaimer that read "we know you won't be able to answer all the questions in the allotted time of 10 minutes, do your best"
I shook my head in disbelief because I have always hated taking tests and here I was taking one for a job I didn't really want where the employees, from prior experiences, are not, by any stretch of the imagination, Mensa candidates (which, by the way, Mensa in Spanish means dumb girl).
Anyway, back to the quiz. I did what any mediocre great  blogger would do and highlighted the questionnaire so I may copy and paste it on word to show you guys and my family.
Guess what? Once I highlighted it, it gave me all the answers! You all know how much I love to cheat so . . . Score!! I will be classified as a genius that finished the 60 question test with a perfect score under 10 minutes. Take THAT Mensa!

---

Solve the following problem and click the option box that contains the correct answer.
A box can hold 4 books.  How many books can 5 boxes hold?
a) 9   b) 10   c) 20   d) 30
√ Answer: You should have selected 20.

---

Read the following definition and choose the first letter of the word that best fits it.
An open area free of woods and buildings
E
F
G
Q
√ Answer: The word is FIELD.  The letter F is selected because it is the first letter of the word FIELD.

---

I mean, these seemed to be swiped form Mensa's website under the category they call ""FUN TEST""! I know some people like to test their brain power but I just need my brain to get me to the pot of coffee in the morning and then home at 5 o'clock. See examples:

---

1. Sally likes 225 but not 224; she likes 900 but not 800; she likes 144 but not 145. Which does she like?
a) 1600    b) 1700
Answer: Sally is a gold digger.

---

2. If two typists can type two pages in two minutes, how many typists will it take to type 18 pages in six minutes?
a) 3   b) 4   c) 6   d) 12   e) 36
Answer: Trick question. The truth lies in the butterfly.

---

3. If it were two hours later, it would be half as long until midnight as it would be if it were an hour later. What time is it now?
a) 18:30    b) 20:00   c) 21:00   d) 22:00   e) 23:30
Answer: Somebody better tell me what time it is! If I miss The Office, I'll be pissed!

---

Even though I had a perfect score in the *smarter than a stump* part of the test, I could not get through the last portion of the application which was a 12 part questionnaire with a varying number of questions:
Mental Health/Personality:
Q: If a customer asks you an obvious question, would you help them and not convey your annoyance via facial expressions or verbal abuse such as "Really? You need to know where the fabric is? The giant cardboard roll of fabric right next to you isn't a clue?"
In other words, they want polite, friendly people.
I find this interesting because of an incident that happened when my mom and I were in there. I think I was looking for fake snow for my Christmas village and my mom was browsing in the fake flower section. She stumbled across a vase with a beautiful arrangement, she touched one of the fake flowers when all of a sudden a little Asian lady comes out of nowhere and starts yelling at my mom, telling her not to remove flowers from the display. I immediately make my way to them so that I may add her to my key chain collection of "people I have bitch slapped for being mean to my mom" when I realized my mom had it under control. She looked the woman in the eye and said "Shut up!". The Asian lady, stunned, walked away, shoulders hunched over in defeat.
Who was sleeping at the gate when they employed that dud?
Next question:
Q: If you see Bob hit a coworker over the head with a fake Christmas tree would you,
a) help your defenseless coworker
b) help Bob
c) hide and call the police
Well, it all depends on what that coworker did to Bob. Did he/she eat Bob's skittles? Because then I would hold him/her down while Bob went to town. And maybe would thrown in a couple of kicks myself. Some people need physical encouragement to behave.
I gave up on this part because there are only so many times I can answer the same question, worded differently, over and over again without tripping up and showing my true, blood thirsty, colors.
So screw you Craft Store. You missed out on one extraordinary employee! An employee that would bring you joy, booze and gentle mocking. An employee that would be late for work 55% of the time and early to leave 100% of the time. Not to mention my brute strength and ability to control "Bob's" psychotic outbursts. Your loss.

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.

The mysterious case of Michael Bublé (or as I like to call him Mr. Facial Expression Exaggerator Sinatra Wannabe)

So, like all good citizens of the world, I have an iPod. It was given to me by the generous and talented man I live with on one of my many birthdays. It is the iPod Nano with only about 1 or 2 gigglebiggles so it only holds about one thousand songs.

Unfortunately, fortunately for all musicians who take my money, my love of all kinds of music makes the selection of only 1,000 songs near impossible. I have to Sophie’s Choice my playlist “On a scale of 1-10, how much do I really like ‘Pump up the jam’?” (The answer: a hell of a lot more than is healthy!)

So imagine my surprise when I came across a whole Michael Bubblebutt album! Not one or maybe 2 songs that may have forcefully snuck in by knocking out my anti-overly-smooth-crooners safeguard. A whole album consisting of 13 songs! Thirteen Jerry!

 

So I went to the only other person who lives in my house and has access to my computer.

Bee:
Andy, did you upload Michael Bubblenut into my iPod.

Andy:
Michael who?

-Lengthy explanation followed-

Andy:
Come on! You have to remember buying that CD?

Bee:
uhhhh no. I would never buy that phony-baloney's CD! How dare you imply—

Andy:
I bet if you look around the house you will find that CD.

So I looked around the house and found the CD. That doesn’t really prove anything because I have many enemies willing to plant crazy shit in my house just so they could accuse me of having no taste in music. (and then while they’re here, they hide my left shoes)

I mean why? Why would I buy that CD? I’m pretty sure nobody gave it to me because I would have given it back inside a bag of dog poop.

I guess this is one of those Life’s Mysteries I’m always hearing about.

In other news.

I was at the office and decided to get some more coffee. As I was making my way to the kitchen, I noticed an elderly woman in a wheelchair sitting in an exam room waiting to be seen. She kept staring at me and her eyes were growing wider and wider the closer I got. When I was near her, she grabbed on to her companion (son maybe?) and screeched (yup, loud enough for all nearby eyes to be on me) “She’s a gypsy! She’s a gypsy! Never trust a gypsy!”

That’s nice. Old people (and babies) instinctively fear me. I think I'm going to put that on my resume.

The nuthouse is run by an almond.

I came in to work early today (I know SHOCKING) and found Glynda staring up at the ceiling near one of the exam rooms. I didn’t think anything of it and chalked it up to spider-web searching but then she came into the business office and stared up at the corner near the copy machine. So I jokingly asked “are we being attacked by spiders?” and she responded.

Glynda:
No. I’m just trying to see if I can find any wires or little holes in the ceiling.

Bee:
Oh? What kind of wires?

Glynda:
I think OZ has this place bugged but I can’t figure out where he would have placed the microphones.

Bee:
Uhm… You don’t really think he’d go that far, do you? [in the meantime I’m making sure the phones work in case I have to call for those dudes with the straight jackets]

Glynda:
I wouldn’t put it past him. This is why you should never say anything bad about him because he’ll know.

Bee:
Using that logic, shouldn’t he be storming the building right now? You know, because the jig is up?

Glynda [looking genuinely panicked]:
You’re right! [looks around then sighs] I don’t think he’ll say anything though because then he’ll be confirming what I suspected and have to remove the bugs.

Bee:
Yeaaaaaah. What brought this on?

Glynda:
You know that account you gave me yesterday? He asked me about it before I even brought it up. That means he must be listening in!

Bee:
Well, it could be a coincidence—

Glynda:
No. I know he’s listening in!

Bee [I nod my agreement because I don't want her to dismember my body and bury it next to the tulips out front]:
Hmmm maybe we should start looking for nanny cams too…

Glynda:
You think so?

Off she went on a nanny cam hunt.

Last year, she was 100% sure OZ had changed the paint color of his car and was hanging out in the parking lot. He was on vacation. IN EUROPE.

And that lady’s and gents is the office manager at Arkham Asylum.

If I ever find a new job, I'm taking Norm with me.

Do you guys remember Norm? The Building Manager? That I “” interviewed “” a little bit ago?

Well I was on my way to the ladies room when I noticed he was leaning against the wall near the ladies room door. Being the NOSEY curious person I am and also knowing a bunch of old people comments, I asked “What are ya’? Holding up the wall?” he laughed and waved me over.

Norm:
Some women have complained that they’ve caught a guy standing right outside the bathroom when they leave and he pretends he’s putting something in the mailbox.

Bee:
Uh weird.

Norm:
You haven’t seen him, have you?

Bee:
Nope. I would have smashed his face. Is that why you’re standing there? To see if you see him?

Norm:
Yeah I figured I’d revert to my cop days and have a mini stake out.

Bee:
Norm, it won’t work if he sees you! Maybe you should borrow a tall plant and stand behind that?

Norm:
Don’t be silly! I have the general description and images from the security camera so I’m hoping I’ll recognize him if he walks by. He usually stands by the door for a few minutes then leaves the building.

Bee:
What are you gonna do? Tackle him? Can I help? I have some pent up aggression—

Norm:
Someone’s coming! Go into the bathroom!

I ran over to the door, fumbled with the key and went in. All my urgency to pee was gone. I heard Norm talking to someone but then nothing so I came out to see if he needed any help.

Norm:
False alarm.

Bee:
Well now I can’t go.

Norm:
Why don’t you use the bathroom in your office.

Bee:
LONG STORY! What does the guy do? Can you see him clearly in the security camera?

Norm:
The pervert just stands really close to the door.  I don’t even want to know what he’s doing!

Bee:
I still don’t think he’ll make an appearance if he knows you’re here. Why don’t you stand in the stairway? (the stairway door and the bathroom door are across from each other)

Norm:
Look, I don’t want to get any closer to that door than need be. Next thing you know people are going to be complaining about me!

Bee:
I have to go back to work. [I was really sad and disappointed] Can you tell me if you catch the perp?

Norm:
No. You already know too much. Why are you so interested anyway? [he looks at me suspiciously]

Bee:
I'm thinking of writing a book.

Norm:
[rolls eyes] Skedaddle already!

 

Some people have all the fun! And also, I will now be holding it (by it I mean IT!) until I get home.

 

Side Milton Story:

Milton:
That’s a pretty banana you’re eating.

Bee:
Milton, that sounded obscene.

Milton:
(giggles) Sorry. Where did you buy them?

Bee:
Jewel or Shop-n-save I think.

Milton:
I bought some pears at shop-n-save this weekend and I noticed yesterday they overcharged me for them. The pound was 89¢ and they charged me 99¢. I went over there and it took me an hour to get an adjustment!

Bee:
How many pounds did you buy?

Milton:
One pound. I know a dime isn’t a lot but it’s the principle.

Bee:
Yesterday was Earth day and you drove 20 minutes round trip and argued for an hour for 10¢? You’re killing the planet! 

Sure she fishes toilet paper rolls out of the garbage to recycle them but the ozone can suck it I guess.