Dear Big Red,
Because I cannot actually go completely ape on you about all the little things that drive me crazy about you because it's completely unprofessional AND because I do need you to help me in certain ways, I've decided to itemize them here, in hopes that it will ease some of the desire I have to simultaneously punch you in the throat and knee you in the balls.
1. Do not speak to me unless I ask you a direct question. If you have a question for me that is work related (and work related only), you may raise your hand to get my attention.
2. Do not put your feet up on your desk.
3. Do not sit with your legs open.
4. Try, just please try, NOT to sound like a douche every time you get on the phone.
5. Do not look at me.
6. Do not give me creepy, back handed compliments about my clothing, hair, or any other part of my appearance.
7. Do not talk to me about your girlfriend.
8. Related to number 7, do not talk to me about your personal life unless I ask you a direct question (refer to number 1).
9. Do not speak in a passive aggressive tone to potential future employees of our company. I know this is a hard one for you. I've talked to you about it, and you still seem to think it necessary, so it must be really hard if I haven't been able to get through your thick, fire crotch skull yet.
10. Related to number 9, do not patronize potential future employees. It makes you sound like a real asshole.
Thank you for your time and consideration. If you have any questions about the above itemized list, please refer to direction number 1.
Sincerely,
S
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Sunday, November 09, 2008
A post for KB
My weekends lately have been quite hermit-like. This isn't because I've given up on life or am turning into some crazy shut-in. I just need some special alone time. To stay sane.
I should be using this time to study for my upcoming exam. And I have, a little bit. Admittedly, not as much as I should. But that isn't the point of this entry.
Because of my existence, particularly this weekend, I've started to watch Bridezillas on We.
Have you SEEN this shit?
This bitches are craaaazy and need to be medicated. I cannot believe that adult women act like spoiled six year olds and then think it's appropriate to display this behavior, for all to see, on television. Horrific.
In this particular episode, one bride receives her veil, decides she hates it and proceeds to rip it to shreds with her own hands. The other bride (yes, they manage to squeeze in two per hour long episode) is nowhere near as terrible of a person, but it still pretty horrible. She's already told off her mother-in-law, who was trying to convince her NOT to put rhinestones in her bouquet. How does said bride think that rhinestones in her flowers is a good idea?
Both of these women are ugly on the inside and out. Maybe if you weren't so nasty, you would have better skin, shinier hair, and no horrible black bags under your eyes. And the mothers of these nasty ass hoes are revealing of the fact that these apples don't fall too far from the tree.
I may not understand the stress a bride is under, but I cannot imagine that these women are that much different in their regular lives. Yikes.
To my future fiance, should he be out there somewhere, we are so totally eloping.
Horrible, horrible people.
And I can't stop watching them.
Does that make me just as horrible?
Nah. I think it just means I love me some shitty reality television.
I should be using this time to study for my upcoming exam. And I have, a little bit. Admittedly, not as much as I should. But that isn't the point of this entry.
Because of my existence, particularly this weekend, I've started to watch Bridezillas on We.
Have you SEEN this shit?
This bitches are craaaazy and need to be medicated. I cannot believe that adult women act like spoiled six year olds and then think it's appropriate to display this behavior, for all to see, on television. Horrific.
In this particular episode, one bride receives her veil, decides she hates it and proceeds to rip it to shreds with her own hands. The other bride (yes, they manage to squeeze in two per hour long episode) is nowhere near as terrible of a person, but it still pretty horrible. She's already told off her mother-in-law, who was trying to convince her NOT to put rhinestones in her bouquet. How does said bride think that rhinestones in her flowers is a good idea?
Both of these women are ugly on the inside and out. Maybe if you weren't so nasty, you would have better skin, shinier hair, and no horrible black bags under your eyes. And the mothers of these nasty ass hoes are revealing of the fact that these apples don't fall too far from the tree.
I may not understand the stress a bride is under, but I cannot imagine that these women are that much different in their regular lives. Yikes.
To my future fiance, should he be out there somewhere, we are so totally eloping.
Horrible, horrible people.
And I can't stop watching them.
Does that make me just as horrible?
Nah. I think it just means I love me some shitty reality television.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Paintballing: It hurts SO good
Friday was our company paintballing activity. I had never been and, when asking my new co workers how I should prepare, their only response was "Wear lots of layers."
On Thursday night, when learning that I had never been, two of my new co workers widened their eyes and said "You are going to be SO sore all weekend." My response: "Really? Sore from WHAT? I work out all the time [lies!] so I'll be fine." They just laughed at me. Silly, silly new HR Manager girl!
Now a full 48 hours after the fact, I can barely get up and down my stairs without wincing. This is unfortunate because my humble abode is in fact two floors. Getting up and down off the toilet is also very painful and pathetic.
The problem? It's two fold: Crouching and Squatting.
Now, unless you're Jason Varitek or some other major league catcher, you don't often find yourself crouching OR squatting for extended periods of time. And if you are perchance doing either of these actions, it it very rarely for minutes on end.
For those of you who have never played paintball, getting hit by one of those little fuckers HURTS. I don't care how tough you are or pretend to be, because I'm pretty god damn tough. I had three layers on top and one on bottom. In hindsight, this was no where near enough. In order to avoid getting nailed by a paintball, you spend most of your time either running while also crouched over, or just squatting behind some sort of barrier to avoid the hail of little plastic balls filled with water based paint.
A fair number of the guys have their own equipment and play frequently. Two of them brought specialty rapid fire guns. One of the those guys was on my team, although he did nail me at one point in friendly fire. To his credit, he didn't know it was me. The other guy was Big Red. And since I very much believe in karma, I wasn't so shocked to hear that Big Red sprained his ankle during his last game (he then had to leave early). Everyone together now! AWWWW.
We played five games. In the last game, I was hit so hard (IN THE BACK!!) that I started to cry and had to leave the game. I felt like the BIGGEST asshole, but felt much better after I learned I was the third person to leave the game BUT the first lady. ha HA!
I think I gained a certain level of respect with some of the guys. At least I hope I did. Even if not, it was the most fun involving extreme (for me) physical activity that I've had like, ever.
On Thursday night, when learning that I had never been, two of my new co workers widened their eyes and said "You are going to be SO sore all weekend." My response: "Really? Sore from WHAT? I work out all the time [lies!] so I'll be fine." They just laughed at me. Silly, silly new HR Manager girl!
Now a full 48 hours after the fact, I can barely get up and down my stairs without wincing. This is unfortunate because my humble abode is in fact two floors. Getting up and down off the toilet is also very painful and pathetic.
The problem? It's two fold: Crouching and Squatting.
Now, unless you're Jason Varitek or some other major league catcher, you don't often find yourself crouching OR squatting for extended periods of time. And if you are perchance doing either of these actions, it it very rarely for minutes on end.
For those of you who have never played paintball, getting hit by one of those little fuckers HURTS. I don't care how tough you are or pretend to be, because I'm pretty god damn tough. I had three layers on top and one on bottom. In hindsight, this was no where near enough. In order to avoid getting nailed by a paintball, you spend most of your time either running while also crouched over, or just squatting behind some sort of barrier to avoid the hail of little plastic balls filled with water based paint.
A fair number of the guys have their own equipment and play frequently. Two of them brought specialty rapid fire guns. One of the those guys was on my team, although he did nail me at one point in friendly fire. To his credit, he didn't know it was me. The other guy was Big Red. And since I very much believe in karma, I wasn't so shocked to hear that Big Red sprained his ankle during his last game (he then had to leave early). Everyone together now! AWWWW.
We played five games. In the last game, I was hit so hard (IN THE BACK!!) that I started to cry and had to leave the game. I felt like the BIGGEST asshole, but felt much better after I learned I was the third person to leave the game BUT the first lady. ha HA!
I think I gained a certain level of respect with some of the guys. At least I hope I did. Even if not, it was the most fun involving extreme (for me) physical activity that I've had like, ever.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
