Ok, REALLY PEOPLE?!?!
I just got this forwarded email, subject line: "NEW TRICK TO ROB YOU":
If you are driving at night and eggs are thrown at your windshield, do not operate the wiper and spray any water because eggs mixed with water become milky and block your vision up to 92.5% so you are forced to stop at the roadside and become a victim of robbers.
This is a new technique used by robbers.
I love that this writer was able to calculate how much more your vision is blocked by an eggy-milky substance on your windsheild. Well duh! I'd like to know from where this statistical data was gathered. Also, keep in mind that if this happens to you, and you pull over, you WILL be robbed (you are forced to stop at the roadside and become a victim of robbers).
Honestly, I can't determine if the girl who sent this to me was sending it as a joke or if she is honestly scared of these "Egg Robbers".
Really? REALLY?
November 30, 2009
Also...
Larry, there is no such word as "token". (No, not the things you put in the germ-infested machines at Chuck-E-Cheese. No, as in the past tense - I guess? - of "taken", pronounced "tooken" - I guess?)
And please stop referring to the tenth month in our calendar year as "Optober". Maybe in your world "p's" and "c's" sound alike, but not in mine. So please stop.
Thank you.
And please stop referring to the tenth month in our calendar year as "Optober". Maybe in your world "p's" and "c's" sound alike, but not in mine. So please stop.
Thank you.
What's Next?
In addition to the clothed, stuffed reindeer and snowmen donning our hallway at work, there are now life-sized DOGS DRESSED AS ELVES greeting any tax-paying soul that stumbles upon our floor.
Seriously. Manufacturers of this crap: STOP. Send your 8-year-old, Asain employees home and stop making stuffed animals with weird clothes. The world already has enough of these...and they can all be found at my office.
Seriously. Manufacturers of this crap: STOP. Send your 8-year-old, Asain employees home and stop making stuffed animals with weird clothes. The world already has enough of these...and they can all be found at my office.
November 25, 2009
No, not Posh Spice, Posh Grandmother
Get ready. I'm being sentimental.
Today as me and my coworkers were unpacking yet another this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree and putting it together, fluffing the sad little branches out as far as possible to make it look as full as possible, an extreme wave of memories of grandmother, Mary Francis Powell, flooded me. This will be my fourth Christmas without her. And without her very own this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree.
That tree was saddest tree you can imagine. And she had these sparkly peacock birds that went all over it.
And she wore shorts with stockings.
Weird, both peacocks and short with stockings have come back to life in our fashion world. Way to go, Francis. I always knew you were posh! (I have such a classic picture of my grandmother driving a go-cart, yes at age 75ish, wearing shorts with stockings. Classic. Must find that picture and post it.)
If I had a point to this story, it would be, I guess, that it's always the weirdest, but endearing things that conjure up memories of your loved ones. (Like that episode of Full House where DJ and Steve had just broken up and DJ sees Steve's head on a head of lettuce at the grocery store. Yeah, like that.)
Anyway, if Francis were still alive, she'd wish you a Merry Christmas and remind you to not eat too much bread. :)
Today as me and my coworkers were unpacking yet another this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree and putting it together, fluffing the sad little branches out as far as possible to make it look as full as possible, an extreme wave of memories of grandmother, Mary Francis Powell, flooded me. This will be my fourth Christmas without her. And without her very own this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree.
That tree was saddest tree you can imagine. And she had these sparkly peacock birds that went all over it.
And she wore shorts with stockings.
Weird, both peacocks and short with stockings have come back to life in our fashion world. Way to go, Francis. I always knew you were posh! (I have such a classic picture of my grandmother driving a go-cart, yes at age 75ish, wearing shorts with stockings. Classic. Must find that picture and post it.)
If I had a point to this story, it would be, I guess, that it's always the weirdest, but endearing things that conjure up memories of your loved ones. (Like that episode of Full House where DJ and Steve had just broken up and DJ sees Steve's head on a head of lettuce at the grocery store. Yeah, like that.)
Anyway, if Francis were still alive, she'd wish you a Merry Christmas and remind you to not eat too much bread. :)
Decking The Halls, Government Style
It's eerily quiet this afternoon in the winter wonderland that is the Government Center. Everyone else got to go home. Guess who got to stay? Yep. If I hadn't had to stay, I wouldn't be writing this right now. Nope, I'd be at home. Baking. The flour that gets everywhere; using every single measuring cup or spoon you have (and I have a lot. Probably 25. No lie.); making a complete mess which brings on a shouting match between you and and your roommate in which, not just the pile of dirty dishes is the topic, but also a (now clean) pile of dirty dishes you left in the sink like a year ago that she still hasn't forgiven you for (and from which, somehow, the smell is still disgustingly sticking around). Ahhh. I love baking. I'll have a promisingly entertaining post possibly later today about my adventures in baking from last night. (Spoiler alert: when the recipe calls for baking powder, the recipe writer wasn't kidding. It really does need baking powder.)But today's topic: PRISONERS.
So somehow I got roped into helping decorate our hall for the departmental decorating contest. (I so know I.T. is going to win. Those whores win every year.) I guess I just exude creativity because the project was kind of handed over to me. However, this is no way, implies that I have full creative reign over how things get decorated. This just means that I am the work horse on which all of the responsibility falls. Thanks a lot.
Now, if I were to decorate, it would look very traditional: lots of green, red, and gold. A pretty tree, maybe some wrapped gifts under it with cute ribbon. I mean, I'm a classy gal. There is no part of who I am that is "tacky" (I hope. Well, maybe when I have a few too many glasses of wine. That's a different story. Back to the prisoner story.) So I'm not tacky, ok? However, if I didn't know better, or perhaps if I was just a visitor to our building, I would assume that we were competing in a "Oh My Gosh, This is the Tackiest Christmas Decorating Job Ever! What the hell?" contest.
Let me just give you a visual: when you step off the elevator, you are greeted by a winter wonderland setting. There is an outdoor scene with snowy trees taped to the wall. Then there's the saddest-this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree. And fake snow. And those creepy reindeer that raise their heads intermittently. This inviting scene takes you down the hall to the entry way. The entry way looks great. Mayyyyybe because it was my idea. With garland and a beautiful wreath. (See? Classy.) So warm and inviting. THEN, you come inside our little foyer area in which it looks like the Dollar Tree threw up. There is a mantle, fake fire, garland, a fiber-optic angel (yes, her wings are those stiff string things that turn all different colors), a stuffed reindeer that is wearing clothes (um, scary), a stuffed snowman (also wearing clothes) that dances, and, wait for it, wait for it...stuffed people sitting in chairs by the fake fire. It is honestly, the weirdest and verging on the side of frightening thing I have ever seen.
And people will ask, 'whose idea was this?' And my name, my classy and sophisticated name, will slip through the lips of the person answering that question.
Oh and the prisoners who come around to our cubicles everyday to collect our trash, refill our toilet paper in the bathrooms, vacuum, etc. helped us decorate. I thought it was hilarious. Yes, they are considered the "good" prisoners. But they still wear jumpsuits and orange vests that say "PRISONER" on them. I mean, how many times in your life will you be able to say you decked the halls with the county prisoners help? Hilarious.
P.S. - My boss is still here and is listening, EXTREMELY LOUDLY, to the Beatles sing Christmas songs on his computer. And I could be mistaken, but I think he's got "So this is Christmas" on repeat. Way to put us all in the Christmas spirit, boss man.
P.S.S. - Larry's gone for the day. His gout got a little out of control (something about he had steak for dinner last night and the weather is about to get cold???) so he had to take some medicine (for which I got a really unneeded explanation: his gout medicine apparently gives him the squirts. Yeah.) However, before he left, I started singing "Walking in a Winter Wonderland", which, of course, he began to whistle. No surprise there. What did surprise me though was that his whistling "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" somehow turned into him whistling the theme song to The Jeffersons. You know, "Movin on up! To the east side! To that deeelux apartment in the sky!" Obviously, this was a version of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" I had never heard before.
P.S.S.P.S.P.S.Z.Q. - I am currently enjoying a delicious lunch of chili cheese fries. I think the workers at Checkers laced it with Larry's poop gout medicine.
So somehow I got roped into helping decorate our hall for the departmental decorating contest. (I so know I.T. is going to win. Those whores win every year.) I guess I just exude creativity because the project was kind of handed over to me. However, this is no way, implies that I have full creative reign over how things get decorated. This just means that I am the work horse on which all of the responsibility falls. Thanks a lot.
Now, if I were to decorate, it would look very traditional: lots of green, red, and gold. A pretty tree, maybe some wrapped gifts under it with cute ribbon. I mean, I'm a classy gal. There is no part of who I am that is "tacky" (I hope. Well, maybe when I have a few too many glasses of wine. That's a different story. Back to the prisoner story.) So I'm not tacky, ok? However, if I didn't know better, or perhaps if I was just a visitor to our building, I would assume that we were competing in a "Oh My Gosh, This is the Tackiest Christmas Decorating Job Ever! What the hell?" contest.
Let me just give you a visual: when you step off the elevator, you are greeted by a winter wonderland setting. There is an outdoor scene with snowy trees taped to the wall. Then there's the saddest-this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree. And fake snow. And those creepy reindeer that raise their heads intermittently. This inviting scene takes you down the hall to the entry way. The entry way looks great. Mayyyyybe because it was my idea. With garland and a beautiful wreath. (See? Classy.) So warm and inviting. THEN, you come inside our little foyer area in which it looks like the Dollar Tree threw up. There is a mantle, fake fire, garland, a fiber-optic angel (yes, her wings are those stiff string things that turn all different colors), a stuffed reindeer that is wearing clothes (um, scary), a stuffed snowman (also wearing clothes) that dances, and, wait for it, wait for it...stuffed people sitting in chairs by the fake fire. It is honestly, the weirdest and verging on the side of frightening thing I have ever seen.
And people will ask, 'whose idea was this?' And my name, my classy and sophisticated name, will slip through the lips of the person answering that question.
Oh and the prisoners who come around to our cubicles everyday to collect our trash, refill our toilet paper in the bathrooms, vacuum, etc. helped us decorate. I thought it was hilarious. Yes, they are considered the "good" prisoners. But they still wear jumpsuits and orange vests that say "PRISONER" on them. I mean, how many times in your life will you be able to say you decked the halls with the county prisoners help? Hilarious.
P.S. - My boss is still here and is listening, EXTREMELY LOUDLY, to the Beatles sing Christmas songs on his computer. And I could be mistaken, but I think he's got "So this is Christmas" on repeat. Way to put us all in the Christmas spirit, boss man.
P.S.S. - Larry's gone for the day. His gout got a little out of control (something about he had steak for dinner last night and the weather is about to get cold???) so he had to take some medicine (for which I got a really unneeded explanation: his gout medicine apparently gives him the squirts. Yeah.) However, before he left, I started singing "Walking in a Winter Wonderland", which, of course, he began to whistle. No surprise there. What did surprise me though was that his whistling "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" somehow turned into him whistling the theme song to The Jeffersons. You know, "Movin on up! To the east side! To that deeelux apartment in the sky!" Obviously, this was a version of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" I had never heard before.
P.S.S.P.S.P.S.Z.Q. - I am currently enjoying a delicious lunch of chili cheese fries. I think the workers at Checkers laced it with Larry's poop gout medicine.
November 24, 2009
Reduce the Genoas!
You readers (all 4 of you) may start getting tired of hearing about the hilarities of my work life. But sorry. I'm not going to stop writing about them. They are endless; they really are. Just when I think things are getting normal...Larry goes and whistles "I'm a Slave For You". Or better yet, tries to teach me how to put a bankers box together.
So I am minding my own business, right? Reading blogs, facebooking, really working hard. Then I hear the squeek of Larry's chair (the telltale sign that he's spying) and I quickly have to click click click back to something that resembles work. He sooooo cramps my style. Anyway, so he says, "Hey....(it always takes him about 7.3 seconds to remember my name)...Peyton. Want to get some experience that may come in handy in the future?" Of course to myself I'm saying "Nope. I'm okay. Thanks though." Instead, I begrudgingly say, "Sure." So I walk over to his cubicle and he's got bankers boxes out. "I'm gonna teach you how to put boxes together." To which I reply, "Ummm. I know how to put a box together." (No, it wasn't smart-alecky, I promise. I was just stating the truth.) Larry looked so crestfallen. So I offered to put the lids together. (A task I performed with great strength and speed...while Larry consistently put each of the boxes together wrong and then had to go back and fix them.) I really really really would like to bring in a copy of my hard earned bachelor degree and tape it to his computer monitor. "Hey look, Larry. I have a college degree and you don't. I passed Quantitative Analysis (ok, yes, with the lowest-possible-still-passing grade), all kinds of business classes, Accounting 1-3, Finance 1-3, and ok, ok, Walking. (Yes, walking. Don't hate. It was the easiest A I ever made.) You don't even know the difference between your and you're, or their, there, and they're. So booya. I'll let you keep putting boxes together while I work on becoming your boss. How ya like dem apples?"
In other unrelated news, where do "they" come up with the security words you have to type in sometimes on websites? You know, like if you're posting a website on facebook and it'll prompt you to type in some weird words to make sure everything's legit? Today, I was posting my blog as a link on facebook and said prompt asked me to type in "reduce the genoas". What in the world? Isn't genoa some kind of lunch meat of the salami persuasion? Or maybe it's ham. Nevertheless, typing this in made me start giggling. I felt kind of like a crusader. "REDUCE THE GENOAS!" "TOO MANY (or much? I'm not sure) GENOAS!" Picture a crowd of people in full picket formation raising signs with the little wooden posts up and down in the air chanting "REDUCE THE GENOAS!" I don't know. Is that funny to you? And where do these words and combinations of words come from? Along with my What's Larry Whistling Today list, I'm going to keep a list of these security word thingies.
Anyway, hope your Tuesday has been more productive than mine.
So I am minding my own business, right? Reading blogs, facebooking, really working hard. Then I hear the squeek of Larry's chair (the telltale sign that he's spying) and I quickly have to click click click back to something that resembles work. He sooooo cramps my style. Anyway, so he says, "Hey....(it always takes him about 7.3 seconds to remember my name)...Peyton. Want to get some experience that may come in handy in the future?" Of course to myself I'm saying "Nope. I'm okay. Thanks though." Instead, I begrudgingly say, "Sure." So I walk over to his cubicle and he's got bankers boxes out. "I'm gonna teach you how to put boxes together." To which I reply, "Ummm. I know how to put a box together." (No, it wasn't smart-alecky, I promise. I was just stating the truth.) Larry looked so crestfallen. So I offered to put the lids together. (A task I performed with great strength and speed...while Larry consistently put each of the boxes together wrong and then had to go back and fix them.) I really really really would like to bring in a copy of my hard earned bachelor degree and tape it to his computer monitor. "Hey look, Larry. I have a college degree and you don't. I passed Quantitative Analysis (ok, yes, with the lowest-possible-still-passing grade), all kinds of business classes, Accounting 1-3, Finance 1-3, and ok, ok, Walking. (Yes, walking. Don't hate. It was the easiest A I ever made.) You don't even know the difference between your and you're, or their, there, and they're. So booya. I'll let you keep putting boxes together while I work on becoming your boss. How ya like dem apples?"
In other unrelated news, where do "they" come up with the security words you have to type in sometimes on websites? You know, like if you're posting a website on facebook and it'll prompt you to type in some weird words to make sure everything's legit? Today, I was posting my blog as a link on facebook and said prompt asked me to type in "reduce the genoas". What in the world? Isn't genoa some kind of lunch meat of the salami persuasion? Or maybe it's ham. Nevertheless, typing this in made me start giggling. I felt kind of like a crusader. "REDUCE THE GENOAS!" "TOO MANY (or much? I'm not sure) GENOAS!" Picture a crowd of people in full picket formation raising signs with the little wooden posts up and down in the air chanting "REDUCE THE GENOAS!" I don't know. Is that funny to you? And where do these words and combinations of words come from? Along with my What's Larry Whistling Today list, I'm going to keep a list of these security word thingies.
Anyway, hope your Tuesday has been more productive than mine.
November 23, 2009
Seriously, What Were You Thinking?
So today we are deleting all of the businesses that have closed this year from our system. A tedious task for sure. No, I'm straight up lying...click, click, click, enter business license number, click, click, clickety click clack, DELETE.
In my attempts to introduce you to my unapologetically mundane, yet subtly hilarious work world, I give you this. It's a list of some of the ACTUAL BUSINESS NAMES I have deleted today. Please keep in mind I have not changed any of these names and they are spelled exactly as they show up on the business license. Yeah, keep that in mind.
~Suzy's Watermelons. Now Suzy may in fact sell watermelons. But I'd like to think she doesn't. No, Suzy's Watermelons is totally a lingerie boutique for big girls.
~Pumkindoodles. No, I didn't forget the other P in "Pumkin". They really did spell it like that. And what the hell kind of name is Pumkindoodles anyway? It conjures up images of the most ridiculous country-bumpkin-knick-knack-trash. You know, like heart shaped handmade woven baskets with little wooden hearts glued all over it? Or a wooden coat rack with ducks wearing bows carved on it? "Oh cute! Where'd you get that heart shaped tater and onion basket with the ducks on it?" "Oh this? I got this at Pumkindoodles! You should go! They're having a sale!" Sorry, Pumkindoodles is closed.
~Jake & Luke's Mow-Time. Yes, as you may have guessed, it's a lawn service. Cute. I like the play on words. I wonder if they offer the "Aretha" plan: grass & hedges. Or perhaps the "Marvin" plan: grass, hedges, limbs. Or maybe the deluxe "Smokey/Stevie" combo: grass, hedges, limbs, and flowerbeds. And to their faithful customers they offer the "Temptations" discount: 3 services for the price of 2!
~Don Lawn's Service. Hmmmmm. This one kinda stumped me. There are two possibilities: either some guy named Don Lawn owns some kind of "servicing" business; or maybe Don is a retard and put this on his business license lawn service application. Yeah, makes you wonder why it's on my delete list, doesn't it? Idiots opening businesses.
~The Scholary Approach Exam Prep and Tutoring. Read that carefully. Wow.
~SUTHRN KUMFRT BBQ. This is why people make fun of southerners.
And finally, my absolute favorite:
~I Own A Lawn Service On The Side. Yeahhh. That's the actual name of the business. I. I can't. Mmmm. Yeah.
In related news, Larry (remember my whistling coworker?) is whistling "Push It" by Salt-N-Peppa today.
Much more material like this and I think I may have a book deal on my hands.
UPDATE:
So we were finishing up our year end clean up of closed businesses today and I came across another gem: "Clutters Last Stand". It was a cleaning service. This may be my new favorite one on this list (well, it's a tie between "I Own A Lawn Service On The Side"). I really appreciate the business owner's creativity in naming her cleaning service after a famous battle. I can't stop laughing about it!
In my attempts to introduce you to my unapologetically mundane, yet subtly hilarious work world, I give you this. It's a list of some of the ACTUAL BUSINESS NAMES I have deleted today. Please keep in mind I have not changed any of these names and they are spelled exactly as they show up on the business license. Yeah, keep that in mind.
~Suzy's Watermelons. Now Suzy may in fact sell watermelons. But I'd like to think she doesn't. No, Suzy's Watermelons is totally a lingerie boutique for big girls.
~Pumkindoodles. No, I didn't forget the other P in "Pumkin". They really did spell it like that. And what the hell kind of name is Pumkindoodles anyway? It conjures up images of the most ridiculous country-bumpkin-knick-knack-trash. You know, like heart shaped handmade woven baskets with little wooden hearts glued all over it? Or a wooden coat rack with ducks wearing bows carved on it? "Oh cute! Where'd you get that heart shaped tater and onion basket with the ducks on it?" "Oh this? I got this at Pumkindoodles! You should go! They're having a sale!" Sorry, Pumkindoodles is closed.
~Jake & Luke's Mow-Time. Yes, as you may have guessed, it's a lawn service. Cute. I like the play on words. I wonder if they offer the "Aretha" plan: grass & hedges. Or perhaps the "Marvin" plan: grass, hedges, limbs. Or maybe the deluxe "Smokey/Stevie" combo: grass, hedges, limbs, and flowerbeds. And to their faithful customers they offer the "Temptations" discount: 3 services for the price of 2!
~Don Lawn's Service. Hmmmmm. This one kinda stumped me. There are two possibilities: either some guy named Don Lawn owns some kind of "servicing" business; or maybe Don is a retard and put this on his business license lawn service application. Yeah, makes you wonder why it's on my delete list, doesn't it? Idiots opening businesses.
~The Scholary Approach Exam Prep and Tutoring. Read that carefully. Wow.
~SUTHRN KUMFRT BBQ. This is why people make fun of southerners.
And finally, my absolute favorite:
~I Own A Lawn Service On The Side. Yeahhh. That's the actual name of the business. I. I can't. Mmmm. Yeah.
In related news, Larry (remember my whistling coworker?) is whistling "Push It" by Salt-N-Peppa today.
Much more material like this and I think I may have a book deal on my hands.
UPDATE:
So we were finishing up our year end clean up of closed businesses today and I came across another gem: "Clutters Last Stand". It was a cleaning service. This may be my new favorite one on this list (well, it's a tie between "I Own A Lawn Service On The Side"). I really appreciate the business owner's creativity in naming her cleaning service after a famous battle. I can't stop laughing about it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)