Archive for the ‘that's awkward’ Category

Fun in the Workplace!

Birthday flowers! :(

Hi guys.  Do you miss hearing about TSaur?  I bet you do!  I miss telling you all about him, too!  Because it’s been a minute, this is going to be long, so bear with me. Just know I still hate him and he still smells.  Crucial.

Earlier this month my manager forced me to have a meeting with MP to discuss all the things he was doing wrong in hopes of “promoting his development” since he’s not “good with detail” and “takes offense when his mistakes are pointed out to him”. I.e. teach him how to dougie because he’s a mental midget.  However, considering I’m not his manager nor do I care; I took this opportunity to give him this simple advice: Everything you’re doing right now, do the opposite of that and I think you’ll go far. 

Since he is the biggest moron I’ve ever encountered he takes his “professional development program” to kiss the ass of everyone unfortunate enough to be in this department.  As such, he offers to pay for everyone’s “Birthday Club” admission.  (Just typing “Birthday Club” made me cry inside, BTW).  Anywhoos, Birthday Club is a terrible, awful event that takes place each month and I’ve been a birthday club dropout for years. Read more about it here.  Just know that my response to MP was that I’m a birthday club dropout by choice because I prefer to interact with most coworkers never.

A few weeks ago he creepily bought me flowers for my birthday and placed them on my desk with a card saying they were “from the team”.  I refused to acknowledge said flowers and three weeks later they’re still sitting on my desk rotting away.  See picture of said birthday flowers above.

Last Thursday he decided to bring in breakfast “for the team”. I debated calling in sick to avoid the awkward interaction, but decided that free is free so fuck it and why burn a sick day when I’m not hungover?  He went to a Panera about forty miles away (no, really) as opposed to the one right down the street (really) and spent what must have been upwards of fifty bones on various breakfast sweet treats. Halfway through I was about to have a total and complete panic attack and had to excuse myself and eat the rest of my bear claw in the solitude of the copy room. (No, really).

Because the sound of his voice makes me want to throw a million baby clots, I’ve been forced to listen to music at a volume loud enough to cause permanent hearing damage. As such, a fun side effect of this coping mechanism is that MP scares the shit out of me at least twice a day. He’s a sidler and the next thing I know there he is invading my personal space smelling my cube to shit.  Yesterday he wanted to show me his new cell phone.

MP: I have a new cell phone.

Me: ……

MP: It gets the internet.

Me: (turning around) Neat.

This morning he sidled up next to me once again and asked if I wanted to “grab lunch” with him.

MP: Wanna grab lunch today?

Me: No, I’m going to the gym today.

MP: What about another day this week?

Me: I will be at the gym for lunch always.  (Side note: I am not, but that’s beside the point).

MP: How about breakfast then?

Me: (As I eat my breakfast) I do not eat breakfast ever.

MP: Ever?

Me: Yes.

So there you have it. A full and complete rundown of the past month with the worst coworker to ever exist on the planet.  Aren’t you happy you’re not me?  Samesies!

A Christmas Miracle!

The way we were

Last night I decided to celebrate the upcoming birth of your Lord and Savior by getting mad zany with a couple of equally crazy bitches who enjoy drinking and all around bitchery just as much as yours truly.  After several vats of wine a fella approaches us and asks if could be so honored to buy us a shot (in honor of the Baby Jesus), to which we replied, “Fucking duh”.  Now the problem with accepting any form of alcohol from someone with a penis is that you’re then expected to talk to them afterward.  Café Darkness does not like this and fortunately for me, I was not the one stuck having to make conversation (yay!) and continued being awesome while my friend fell victim to his rambling. However, being the good friend I am, I promptly responded to the third jab to my leg (which in girl speak means stop fucking ignoring the fact I’m getting ear raped by this douche bag and help me) and saved her straight away.  That’s when a Christmas miracle happened and the most awesome exchange of 2010 occurred.

Me to Friend Who Needed Saving:  I can’t believe Kelly is going to be at the Christmas party later.

Friend (Not knowing WTF I was talking about but knowing to just roll with it): I know, right? Whatta bitch.

Me: I can’t stand her. Even though it was years ago I can’t stand the fact she hooked up with Dylan in the pool when I was studying abroad in Paris for the summer!

Him: What happened? Who hooked up? What?

Me: That bitch Kelly hooked up with MY boyfriend in a pool when I was in Paris. She was my best friend but now I hate her!

Him: Oh my god, how long ago did this happen?

Me: High school, but still, I lost my virginity to him at prom! It was kinda a big deal.

Him: Oh my god, that is terrible!

Me: I know, right? I was so upset about it I ended up not going to same college as everyone else for a semester but then was so lonely I transferred back but then eventually left the show because I was too much of a bitch in real life to tolerate.

Friend (Who is about to lose her shit):  Donna Martin graduates?

Me: Barely. But yes.

Him (Who is clearly the dumbest and drunkest person in Richmond): God man, that really sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.

Me: Then my parents moved to Japan and everyone randomly continued living in my old house which always confused me. Anyways, you ready to go to this party?

Friend: Yes.

Him: Ok, I’ll let you ladies go ahead and go to your party, but I feel for you. Breakups are hard. Even from high school.

Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays!

It’s the most wonderfully annoying time of the year when Facespace updates are filled with pictures of Santa babies, your Christmas tree that no one gives a shit about and cookies you baked that I will not eat!  Behold the Top Five Most Annoying Things about the Holidays!

1-Holiday parties at the office!  On Wednesday I have four (4) separate and distinct Christmas “parties” to attend for Steal Your Soul, Inc.  Please note, these are not optional as I skipped them all last year and was warned to “never do that again”.  My bad, I was busy taking a three hour lunch while the rest of the idiots here were engaging in awkward Christmas chit chat.  Anywhoos, people here go absolutely bananas for Christmas office festivities as they are all fucking losers with no life.  I will never forget the zany antics from a few years ago when Annoying Coworker #45 almost flipped her shit at the Dirty Santa Gift Exchange!  She wanted that bottle of wine and gosh darn it, she got it! We still talk about it to this day!   

2-Facespace in general.  Christmas time on Facespace takes the annoying and cranks it up to a level that is almost unfathomable.  Not only do I have to see your baby, I have to see your baby with Santa.  And your baby in the snow. And your baby opening gifts it doesn’t need.  Add in the pictures of your Christmas Tree no one cares about with a dash of “baking cookies for Santa” status updates and here’s me seriously debating deleting my account all together as my blood pressure is already dangerously high from the inordinate amount of drinking and smoking I do. 

3-Buying presents. I hate buying presents.  Not because I don’t like giving people awesome things, but because I stress out and wonder if the present I think is radsauce will be regarded by the receiver as the dumbest fucking thing they’ve ever gotten and why do they hang out with me in the first place and maybe we should revaluate our relationship immediately because there is no way in hell I want to associate with someone who thinks (fill in the blank) is an appropriate gift for anyone to receive ever. 

4-Spending time with family. Praise the Baby Jesus, this really doesn’t apply to me, but I have to hear all of you bitch about your Very Merry Passive Aggressive Christmas and to that I say, “I’m sorry your family sucks so hard and your mom is thinking about leaving your dad and your sister is pregnant (again) and due on your birthday which will no longer be your birthday but the baby’s birthday and the dog needs to have its leg removed and will be a tripod”.  Meep motherfucking meep.

5-Christmas ads.  Normally I don’t really have to see these as I don’t watch much television because I’m busy living my life, but the other day I caught this little gem and immediately wanted to murder everyone.  I can’t believe this is a real ad that someone thought of, made and then said, “Oh fuck yes, this is some good shit.  This is a game changer.”.”  Shoot. Me. Now.

A Mother’s Love

Vomitorium

Sometimes visiting my mom is like going on Oprah. Or rather, at least what I would imagine going on Oprah would feel like, minus everyone getting a car and her dictating what books I read. I go for a quick visit and all of a sudden I’m being told everything I’m doing wrong in life and how I should fix it and why don’t I just listen to her once in a while, god damn it?  My evening with dear old mom when something like this:

 

Upon me entering and not even sitting down yet:

Mom: Okay, lemme see it.

Me: Uh. Really? Can I sit down first?

Mom: No.

Me: Oh. Ok.

Mom:  Jesus, that thing is ugly. I mean, it’s not *as* bad as I thought it would be, I guess. Kind of looks like a prison tattoo. 

Me: Yay?

Mom: No.

Me: Oh. Ok.

Mom: So…..any new boyfriends?

Me: Noooooope!

Mom: Zero prospects?

Me: Affirmative. S’aint happenin’.

Mom: What’s the problem, here? Why can’t you meet anybody?

Me: Dunno. I mean, to be honest, I’m not even trying even a little.  I’m just living my life.  I don’t care.  I want the iPhone 4.

Mom: What? Huh?  You make zero sense.

Me: Forget it. It was a joke!

 

About ten minutes later:

Mom: You need to find a boyfriend who will cook for you.

Me: Ha! Ok! Sounds like a plan!

Mom: You’re malnourished.

Me: No. A steady diet of peanut butter and macaroni and cheese is perfectly nutritious.

 

Five minutes later:

Mom:  What about some of those dating websites?

Me: LORD, NO!

Mom: It has to be better than speed dating, right?

Me: I’M NOT SPEED DATING! JESUS! Do you think I’m that desperate?

Mom: Well………..

 

 

One minute later:

Mom: Maybe if you stopped getting tattoos and you cut your hair you would get a date.

Me: I don’t want a date.

Mom: You do.

Me: No.  Dates cause problems. Right now I’m problem free. Let’s keep it that way.

Mom: You will never give me grandchildren.

Me: Correct.

Ah, a mother’s love.  What a sweet, lovely thing it is.

Go away, please.

Oh, you like me? Neat. Let's date.

Recently T Saur has been getting mad creepy.  A few weekends ago I was at a local watering hole (shocking) and when I got into work that Monday he immediately ran over to me and barked, “Did I have a nice weekend?  Because he saw me at (fill in the blank) bar.” Please note, this is not the first, second or third time T has claimed to see me out and about and not come over and said hello. (Which is actually preferable).  As a matter of fact, now that I get to thinking about it, this has been happening about once a week for a few months now. Are you following me around?  Gross. 

Anywhoos, this past Monday he rushes over straight away in his stinky eighteen-piece suit and once again asks me how my weekend was, doesn’t even wait for an answer before placing this on my desk:

Whaaaaaaat?

 

Total pregnancy test, amiright?  I even asked him why he placed a pregnancy test on my desk and he laughed and said no, it’s a wine opener and he thought I would want it? You know, because after the trillion bottles of wine I’ve consumed I probably don’t have a wine opener.  I guess it was kind of nice, if not a little weird and totally unnecessary.  Fast forward to yesterday. Again, it was first thing in the morning and I’m my standard thirty minutes late getting here.  He runs over and says in an uber scary dead pan voice, “I like the color of your hair”, to which I replied, “Oooooookay. Thanks?” You like the color of my hair? What? Why are so weird with everything in your life?  Go. Away. 

Speaking of lives, what’s going on with my life lately? What with my stalker from last week, T Saur and the crazy Vietnam Vet Hobo who asked to, “ride in my car” yesterday I’m seriously beginning to question what kind of crazy mojo I’m putting out there.  TLW no want your crazy. Please leave my life.

Creep Street

Same!

Trying to picture a scene that’s hard to believe: Me. At a bar.  Drinking.  Okay, now that you’ve imagined the unimaginable let’s make it weirder.  Let’s assume I’m there with some friends, (What?  I have friends? Yes. I do. Fuck off). Let’s then assume that one of them is wearing a shirt with a college football team logo of some sort on it. Then picture a random stranger walking up to said friend and stating that he also went to that college and wow wasn’t that big win last Saturday bananas? (Stephen Garcia’s dick is huge, BTW).  Conversation about said football team continues and this girl zones out and runs to the ladies room as I have the bladder the size of a baby squirrel.  

ANYWHOOS, so when I get back to my seat I’m informed that this strange man “knows” me and knows my name.  Seeing as I have never laid eyes upon him I immediately inquire  from where do I know him?  He mentions several friends of mine and I’m all yeah, ok, fine, but how do you know me?  He tells me he’s seen my picture on their Facespace and I’m all, oooooookay, that’s the creepiest thing I’ve heard all week.  He says no, it’s not creepy. He’s just seen my picture and wasn’t I at Gus’ a few Sundays ago watching football? I said that I was and this is getting real weird, real quick.  He thought for sure he saw me there and was going to say hi but decided not to say anything because that would be weird.  I ask him how right now is not weird, but a few weeks ago would have been weird?  He didn’t really have an answer for that since he was super busy drinking his grape flavored Red Bull and Vodka. “All grape flavored drinks are just better” he told me. 

Much to my disappointment he continued talking to me and told me he works for AT&T.  I asked him to please make it so I could make phone calls in my apartment as that is my home and it’s a pain in the fucking ass to drop calls on the regs.  Then he asks me where do I live on (fill in the blank) Street?  KIM, I never told Creepster what street I lived on. So then there’s that.  He eventually meandered away as he drunkenly realized I was not the slightest bit interested in him wearing my skin as a suit. 

There you have it folks.  Just a typical Thursday night out attracting the biggest freaks in RVA. HOLLER LOUDLY!

Ooh the flossy flossy!

I Hate Yoooooooooou

Wow! Look at you lucky sonsabitches! Three posts in one week. Lordy! What is this? 2009? Suck it, bitches.  For your information I had already written today’s post yesterday, but Steal Your Soul’s computer decided to eat it like a sacrificial lamb. Meh. It wasn’t all that great anyways. It was basically me just ranting about how much I hate T Saur swarming around my desk a trillion times a day and asking him to sit the fuck down.  So instead of T Saur I want to discuss my gum AIDS. 

About a month ago one of my coworker’s (who I actually like and will talk to) went to the dentist and was told she had four (4!!) cavities that all could have been prevented if she flossed.  Going to the dentist makes me cold sweat, but getting cavities filled makes me throw clots.  Unfortunately, I also really hate flossing and admit I do it never.  However, her trip to the dentist scared me straight.  If you can cure the gay, then you sure as hell can cure being mouth gross!  I went to the store that night and purchased myself some real nice floss.  Of course it took me a few more weeks to actually start using it, but once I did I immediately started feeling better about myself.  I felt responsible, like a normal grown up. I even considered checking my mail more than bi-monthly, but decided to not take on too much, too soon.

It wasn’t too much longer after I started taking baby steps toward proper dental hygiene when I started noticing my gums were itchy like whoa. Who has itchy gums? This girl. How is that even possible?  I don’t know, but as I’m typing right now I have the insatiable urge to rake a pair of gardening shears across my mouth. Gross? Yes, very.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it or how one gets rid of their itchy gums but once I figure it out, I’ll holler and let y’all know. Also, let me know if you or someone you love has had this ailment and whose leg you humped to rid yourself of this malady.  Maybe if there are enough of us, we can start some type of support group. 

PS-For those of you grossed out by my gum AIDS, be thankful. I could’ve written about the period I’m having. You. Are. Welcome.

Oh, my.

Hi

Ever sat around in your underwear late at night whilst eating cheese wondering who in the world TLW is?  Yeah, I figured not. More than likely you’ve thought that you would like me to STFU, please and thank you.  Regardless, it may be your lucky day on September 16th, 2010!  For some reason that is beyond my small woman brain to comprehend, I’ve been asked to speak on the “Alter-Egos, Identities and Covert Operations in Richmond Social Media” which, to me, sounds like I’m way more badass than I am, but hey, let’s roll with it. 

The other people speaking are way more gross, interesting, funny and popular than yours truly so hopefully I won’t have to talk too much as the last time I had to speak in public was my freshman year of college in my Communications 101 class. (Go Duke Dogs!).  I was so nervous I decided to get stoney maroni prior to giving my final speech of the semester which really backfired big time. Needless to say, I won’t make that mistake twice, but I will be several glasses of red wine in so as to not throw a clot.  So come on out, y’all! If you heckle me, I’ll pummel you with my tiny fists of rage. Yay!

Office Gossip!

It’s a double trouble T Saur update Thursday. Lucky, lucky you!   

The on again, off again relationship between T and his lady is once again back off!  When he took her back for the second (third?) time, I gave it two weeks, max.  Due to the fact that I am not only awesome and smart and sexy, I am also always right.  (It’s a blessing and a curse!)  Anywhoos, he broke the news to me on Tuesday.  I don’t really remember all of the details because I was busy playing Doodle Jump (!) on Billy Mays, but I remember hearing something along the lines of Saturday, dinner, Cha Cha’s, blah blah, couch, Sunday morning. Once I zoned back in he told me he had even gone so far as defriending her on Facespace. I told him kudos on the defriending. It’s a bold move, but an effective one!  I took a mental health day yesterday but was informed by vigilant coworkers that he wrote her a Dostoevskyesque email yesterday from his yahoo (ha!) email account. He crafted it for hours.  Today another vigilant coworker spied him staring at pictures of the two of them he took when they went to the Chesterfield zoo (wha?).  Clearly T is completely and totally insane.  I predict they are back together all over again by the weekend only to break up once more.  But don’t worry, y’all know I’ll keep you informed! 

How does one delicately request for your (male) coworker to start wearing a bra? I think the constant heart ache and diet consisting solely of coffee and Bugles has finally caught up to him. His man boobs are positively pornorific and are grossing me the hell out.  He walks to work and when he gets here his gross ass polo shirt is covered in sweat and it makes me want to puke hard. I’m thinking of seeking professional help in permanently removing my olfactory senses.

Wednesday is the new Randomday! Duh!

Yes!

Top o the mornin’ to ya, poppets!  Boy oh boy, there’s a lot going on right now so let’s get right to it.

RVA’s greatest love affair is back on! No, no. I’m not talking about me and my imaginary boyfriend, Alejandro (who is absolutely perfect by the way). I’m talking about T Saur and his cheatin’ girlfriend/ex girlfriend/girlfriend. He decided to “roll the dice” a third time and see how things pan out with his “chick”.  Good call, idiot.  Related: if he says the word “chick” to me one more time I’m going to roundhouse kick him in his sallow, haggard face.

You guys, check this shit out! Someone else besides my mom thinks I’m (semi/maybe/okay not really at all) funny and who else do I have to thank for this besides the one and only Sara Palin!  Finally my useless English degree and hatred for right-wing nut jobs has paid off!  Dying. I am dead now. Now my cat is homeless.

Last night I was out for a ditty and enjoyed some $1.00 Greyhounds (heaven) when I went outside for a smoke break.  One extremely intoxicated gentle fellow drunkenly ambles over and all I’m thinking is that I wanted to enjoy my sweet cig and play some Words With Friends and no, I don’t want to talk to you, but thanks for coming out.  Baby Jesus ignored my wishes (JUST LIKE HE ALWAYS DOES!) and he comes over and throws out what may be the best (and by best I mean worst) pickup line I’ve ever heard:

Him: Sooooooooo I was just wondering……….(insert pause for an awkward amount of time here)…….how…uh….how…uh…SHORT are you?  You’re REALLY….uh….SHORT!

Me: Ha! Oh dear!

Him: So…..right…..what was the question?

Me: My height. You wanted to know my height. Don’t worry about the numbers, just know I’m a legal midget. And we prefer the term “little people”.

Him: Oh…….ah…….ok….gotta go.

Me: See ya!  

I love that guy. I want to make him my baby daddy/future ex husband. Call me!

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