squawk

welp i just ate a terrible salad that sadly I arranged myself. i’d probably have been better off closing my eyes and grabbing blindly at the fixings. oooh, J just left the office leaving me alone for i’d estimate an hour or so….leaving me some quality time to myself; now i can take naps on my mousepad, watch excrutiatingly slow youtube vids, fart, the possibilities are endless really. i didn’t even finish typing that sentence before a dudly duo knocked on the glass advertising for some terribly boring xerox services. concise banter ensued. i would not be at all surprised if i have lettuce in my teeth from aforementioned awful salad.

the people in this building are quite courteous, so i shouldn’t complain, but i really detest having someone hold the door for me when im half a mile away from said door. it really just makes them annoyed that im not at the door faster, and makes me annoyed that i have to fluctuate between walk and trot and canter to get there in time, and therefore is no real help to anyone involved. next time instead of thanking them i’ll just say thanks but NO thanks and maybe whack them with my barrage of bags i carry in every day that feel like they’re stuffed with bricks.

ho hum not too much going on round these parts. but i probably didn’t need to tell you that.

slippsies

i have a few menial tasks to do before…oh shit it’s lunchtime and i didn’t even know it. BYE

glutton part II

i have a serious problem…i cannot say no to free food. and it’s only heightened in an office setting…where anything remotely edible is an oasis admist the most desolate of desert land. there’s a conference going on right now about 10 feet from me, they’ve been listening to a woman’s voice via telephone for about 5 hours now. the conference required catered breakfast and lunch which i happily helped myself to. i ate a full breakfast: eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, mini french toasts, 2 cups of coffee, 2 cups of O.J….i couldn’t stop. J very sensibly allotted herself just a dash of fruit salad and half a bagel.

then lunch came around before i even had time to digest, and i still went and ate 2 sandwiches, 2 servings of potato salad, and 2 delicious cookies. i was afraid someone would take all of the salmon sandwiches so i took one for safe keeping. because it looked weird just sitting on my desk in between my stapler and post its, i relocated it to my purse. this was and still is a terrible move, and i know it, but i still did it and the salmon sandwhich is still sitting there inside my purse. i seriously think i have a problem…like i really don’t think i’ll ever even eat that sandwhich, but i just didn’t want it to be thrown away or eaten by some jerk.

 thank god its friday

glutton

i feel positively ill.

feed me seymour

a gracious business associate decided to bestow a large tray of homemade, assorted, surely delectible christmas cookies this morning. they’re wrapped in clear cellophane and decorated with some nice twigs and berries and the like. i was ready to eat them - one of each kind of which there are about 10 - at 9 am when she brought them in. BUT instead of letting me dive into the smorgesborg, J placed them on my desk shelf (a foot 1/2 from my right eye) for everyone, meaning the same 3 people that walk up and down the outside hallway, to see. she said we could eat them after lunch. i’ve been counting the seconds. lunch time is finally over and now she’s meandering about somewhere. just now i walked over and tried to macguyver them open inconspicuously…but alas, all i managed to take off was a cloth holly leaf and the rest has to be scissored. woe is me

past grievances

over the weekend, some good friends and i talked about terrible haircuts of the past. for those that know me, i’ve sported the same sleek (read: not sleek) style since i was 13. but i do recall my mom taking my sister and i to a fish lady called wanda’s house to get our hair cut. this only happened once, when i was about 8 years old. the woman turned my tresses into a short mess of curly mullet, complete with spikes on the side and the top looking like a redheaded dj jazzy jeff. so whatever, we all get bad cuts once in a while, and i was 8 so i guess i shouldnt have cared, but i ran out of that wizard wanda’s house crying about how i looked like a dumb boy and because it was raining, slipped on a stone and subsequently convinced myself i’d broken my back.

 for some reason, i always thought i’d broken my back as a kid. playing kickball once in 5th grade, i slid into first base and must have toppled over myself and screamed about how i’d broken my back. but of course i never did. i just thought i did and cried about it. but i really did break my collar bone in kindergarten. little sister and i were playing the rough and tumble game of ‘catch’; she must have chucked it a bit too far to the right, so in diving i landed on my clavicle. i told her to go get mom but she must have forgotten halfway into the house so i was left on the front lawn to wither. i managed to crawl inside, up the stairs, to the dinner table in my broken form. i spent a good 3 or 4 months afterward in a brace that strapped around my whole upper body. in the beginning of 1st grade, i remember a girl behind me in line for the water fountain asking why i looked like a football player. 

good morning

wow, the silence in the office today is deafening. i’m kind of afraid to breathe so as not to interrupt…so uhh, maybe i’ll just stop. within most offices that ive had the priviledge (hmph) of working in, i’ve found it quite common to greet people in the hallway in full-on whisper. as if making the walk from desk to bathroom to kitchen isn’t already laden with awkward encounters, i.e, walking in pace directly behind someone for over 50 seconds, in a quiet and glaringly obvious form of tailgating where you feel less like a person with a purpose and more like a shuffling caboose on legs. i speak from the perspective of a lowly temp so any awkwardness is multiplied tenfold; i’m not even a real employee thus automatically deemed lower caste. i dont really mind the life of a serf just as long as im left alone in my peasantry. though of course a benefit, and no not the kind that protect you from disease and/or financial demise, of being a temp(tress, ha ha) is that you can easily escape the confinement wherein the contracted persons are bound, which, in my humble opinion, is surely a redeeming factor. but i digress…back to the oddity that is the office whisper. usually happens in the wee hours of the morning, between 8 and 9 when people still haven’t opened their mouths. a passerby’s ”good morning” exits the lungs like hissing steam, and i almost always find myself strangely echoing their exact words and inflection. it’s completely involuntary, if the coworker whispered to me that i ought to go shit a brick, i’d probably nod and repeat the sentiment and not realize it til lunch. but it’s like we’re quietly sharing the same exact secret that has no weight or meaning and serves no real purpose. and no one understands for what reason the volume is turned down so low. i guess it’s more difficult to describe in type, maybe i’ll attach a sound clip when i care a little more.