play with my dingaling

Today at work the doorbell was possessed. It would ding, just once, not the full ding, on average...every 5 fucking minutes! I almost went insane.

In the good news department:

• I found not one, but TWO full diet cokes on the ground.
• I did not drink them.
• I am rather suspicious they might be poisoned...
• Soap will probably cure this.

It's my Friday night and I am ready to party. Supersonic styles!

The Spider

Someone actually came into the office today. And it wasn't the resident who takes the better part of half of our candy jar.

He came in to rent an apartment, kindly sent in our direction by a sister property. Nothing out of the ordinary, I am sitting at my desk telling him about the specials, features of the apartment, and amenities of the community. And. I see it. Hanging out there like he was the king of cool. A big hairy scary-looking black spider. Just kicking it on my desk drawer. This drawer is not visible to potential resident but it is very close to me. And since it is now inhabited by a hairy black spider, uncomfortably close to me.

Spiders scare the pants off me. Especially if they are the jumping kind. And this little guy looks suspiciously like the jumping kind.

I totally choke in the middle of my "sales pitch." I almost lose it and run screaming from the room. I can't stop watching this spider out of the fear that if I look away, he will be on me when I look back. By now, with all the stuttering, poor guy renting an apartment home probably thinks I am insane.

I didn't tell him about the spider. I didn't want him to think we were some creepy bug infested apartment community. I swallowed hard, gave the spider a look, and finished my busniess. Even standing up to shake guy's hand and tell him to have a nice day. *At this point in time I am seriously 2 inches from the beast.*

Did I mention that I am uber-proud of myself? And now I am hiding in the back...far...far...away from my desk.

Beer v. Champagne

Beer has it's value. It is cheap, gets you drunk, and usually stupid. Champagne, however, has special bubbles. Not like beer. They make you laugh, and sometimes fall off balconies on New Year's Eve.

I am not feeling the love today. K went home sick with the pregnancy. I've been busy as shit...Fuck I am never happy, eh? I bitch when there's nothing to do, I bitch when there is. But it's not me. It's the dumbasses that have the nerve to invade my office. I love people everyday. Happy face.

In the good news. My parents sent me this killer package from Australia. It was somewhat disappointing that the box did not contain a for real Australian aborigine, however I will live. I suppose. What it did have in it was:

• an incense set. fucking beautiful
• a handmade candle
• a painted box (with real Australian money inside!)

and my favorite

• a wooden bowl that looks like it was pulled straight from the heart of the tree

Up TOO early

Today will be random thought day.
It would be killer if it was raining.
I just spent $100 on groceries yesterday, and I still don't have anything I want to eat.
My new friend Brandyn is the chronic. (to steal a quote.)
I am up wayyyyy to early for my day off.
The Faint is coming here Nov.17.
I am excited.
I am also ungodly tired.
I gotta comment from my favorite blogger.
Today is gonna be fab.
Dollar drinks tonight!
Short and sweet. Yeah.

Schpunday.

I am miserable at work today for two reasons. A. Drank too much. 2. Drank too much.
Horribly fun evening last night though. And it seemed like a good idea...at the time. In all honesty, I can only blame myself for my condition today. However, a few annoying factors have not made the day any better. (I feel a list is in order, you?)

• Maintenance did not come in this morning (or yesterday morning) and open the pools.
• Or clean the grounds
• I had to open the pools. When I came in. At. 11:30.
• The resident that is sueing us is threatening to go door to door and get a class action suit going.
• And had the nerve to ask if our manager was here. On. Sunday.
• Some couple is breaking up and uberintelligent boyfriend comes barging in here "Did that little bitch sign off the lease?"
• Do I know? Or care? Nope.

However, as time rolls on, the day is getting better. I am drinking water and orange juice. And. I have plans after work. What better to cure a hangover than to work on a new one for tomorrow? Oh yea, the sun is shining on my life now!

West Nile and Groceries

I have two bug bites. One is on my left ankle, and it has been itching for two days. That is fine, mildly annoying, but fine. The other is on the back of my right elbow. I discovered it today getting out of the shower. This one does not itch. And therefore, I am convinced it will turn into the west nile virus. It's those unpredictable non-itchy ones I tell you. If I die. I will let you know.

I made a to do list for Tuesday. Not that Tuesday is special in any other respect than it it my day off. I have not been productive in any one of my last four days off, unless you count being in the protest and going to the debates. Which I do. But, nonetheless, it does not help me achieve greatness in my everyday life. This is why I made a list. Because, what I really want to do on Tuesday is drive up to Sedona and visit the vortexes (vorticies?). What I have to do is:

• grocery shop
• pay bills
• request official transcripts from previous schools
• mail in application with $70 application fee to the CUNY

Now, this all sounds inherently boring, but the last one will cause me an immense amount of anxiety. I really want to move to New York. In order to justify leaving my current job, good although boring, but with great benefits, I have to go back to sc hool. Thus, the application. Who knows how long it takes these people to get back to you once you apply. It could be months! I will be worrying the whole time. And then, what if I do get in? I will have to make plans to move, try to find a new, good, and part time job with decent pay, find a place to live that will let me keep my cats, and (this is probably worst of all) clean out my storage garage here. All this really adds up to a whole lot of anxiety. But change is good, yeah?

Grocery shopping...I am the world's worst grocery shopper. If I go when I am hungry, I buy far too much food. Junk food in particular. If I am not hungry, then I cannot justify buying any food. And I end up with soy ice cream bars, only. This time I am trying the list. Perhaps, if I have a list, if I am hungry, I can force myself to stay within the confines of the list no matter how tempting the cookie isle is. And if I am not hungry, I will still be able to tell myself that, sometime, in the not so distant future, I will be hungry, and will want to cook all the yummy veggies that are piled in my cart.

My List so Far:

• bread
• soymilk
• soy yogurt
• cereal
• fruit
• veggies
• potatoes

I am unable to determine the correct placement for the potato in the categories above. I know it is not a fruit, but I don't really think it is vegetable either. Any thoughts?

In other news, my favorite band today is the Killers.

My biggest pet peeve is people who say preferably wrong, as in "preefer-ably."

Not in Jail

So, I am not in jail. The protest was uneventful as protests go. No violence, which was good. A bunch of shouting, more police than protesters, a gigantonormous Geroge Bush puppet, lots of the gay, and lots of creative sayings on signs. My friends and I got many compliments on our teeshirts.

We arrived on top of the library where the CNN tent was set up around 5pm. There we were confronted with a pod of about 50 Bush supporters, who thought it fitting to yell such meaningful statements as, "Republicans are HOT!" and "Democrats are communists!" We were thouroughly discouraged. Yea. Right. Maybe we just all thought "No Blood for Oil!" and "1..2..3..4..Equal rights and nothing more!" were more pertinent sayings...just maybe. But their comebacks did have a bit of sting. "Go home to your mother's basement and shower, you filthy hippies." was my favorite I think. Because personal hygiene has so much to do with politics and foreign policy and gay rights.

In other news, I got ditched by my ride at the protest. And therefore didn't make it home until after 3am. And therefore am very tired today. Very. Tired. Thus, the blogging at work, since sitting at my desk doing nothing like usual will make me pass out today.

I want Moe's for lunch.

The Great Debate

Today is the day! The third and final presidential debate is happening...right here in Tempe! This is like Christmas. I have tickets to the Kerry pre-debate party, debate watch, and post debate rally. With the Foo Fighters.

My friend Jason and I made teeshirts. They are anti-Bush. I have heard rumors about people being arrested for their anti-Bush teeshirts. I have this great envisionment of me and my friends, being pulled away from the group of only mildly active activists. Pulled by overly agressive cops, disguised from humanity by face masks, riot gear, and billy clubs. Twisting our arms around, making a big scene. Yelling intelligent opressed activist-isms such as "Fuck you, you can't take away my rights! What about freedom of speech?" And then being loaded on a big paddy wagon with other enemies of the state. All refusing to speak until we can have our lawyers present. Sitting in jail for days martyred for our stubborn refusal to play their game. For standing up for the rights of humanity and the common man. (insert shaking fist in air)

In reality. We will wear our shirts. March in the march. And if anyone questions us, we will run.

My next post might be from jail. I will let you know.

The Vine

So normally, a Monday night at The Vine is a relaxing time. If by relaxing you mean hundreds of college-age coeds madly consuming one dollar u-call-its. Tonight, however, proved to be the best so far (and I have been going to this bar for like 3 years) So, things are progressing nicely, I have a few drinks, see some folk and go outside to smoke with them. Now, I don't smoke (usually), but you have to go outside to smoke and since most people I know do smoke, I spend a considerable amount of time on the patio. There was this kid out there, drinking a bloody mary. We shall call him "The Boot." Now The Boot is not what I would call a fine specimin of the male persuasion. He has tobacco stained fingers from years of rolling his own menthol Top tobacco cigarettes, a D12 teeshirt, and something that would closely resemble jeans had they not been torn stained and nasty. I didn't even get around to looking at his shoes, which is rare for me since shoes are high on my priority list. However, the top half was just too apalling. So The Boot is telling some story of how he moved here from Chicago and spent 1200 bucks in 2 weeks. Bummer for you, shoulda thought more about that crack purchase. So, now he is here at The Vine, which would be okay since he could probably still afford some dollar drinks. Or at least this is what I am thinking. This is not the case. He is drinking the drinks left behind by people too drunk to remember which was theirs and instead of drinking the unknown, return to the bar to buy a new one. Ick. Nasty. Never ever. Anyhow, The Boot is still talking avidly about himself, to which no one is listening. Or at least I am not. Then I happen to hear this phrase..."I'll drink anything. I'll drink out of a boot." Hence, the name.

Well, even better than this, The Boot has a friend. This friend is even dirtier than him, and has one dread in the back of his head of which he is inexplicably proud. He keeps trying to make me touch it. My new friend Brandyn (The Jew, God love him) tells Dirtball we are together. This gets me off the hook. My friend Karly uses the "I'm married" route, which is true, but not very helpful. Dirtball is wearing pants at least 10 sizes too big for him, and a teeshirt a couple of sizes too small. This, in effect, creates the nappy pube region show. How. Disgusting. He is sharing the bloody mary with The Boot. They keep trying to lick my roommate's neck.

I am thinking this is the day of dirty people who don't know how to bathe, or shave, or shave while bathing.

Somewhere near the end of the bloody mary, Dirtball, who is so drunk he can barely stand, dribbles the drink all over himself and the ground. I think he choked on the pepper or something that had settled to the bottom of the glass, because he ended up hacking bloody mary bits on my poor friend, who was standing nearby innocently. It was a shame.

And as we were leaving, Dirtball almost got hit by a car, and then I think he might have puked on some business-ey looking guys.

I Heart Moe's!

Moe's just opened down the street.
I have eaten there 3 times since Saturday. Or once a day, if you will, since I discovered it. I have already earned my free taco! Lame, very lame I know.
Moe's has the greatest burritos, tacos, and salads ever! I love tacos, and since becoming vegan, it is very hard to find a good taco. Moe's has tofu tacos...mmm...with black beans, and pico, and guac. They have fresh jalepenos. They have a salsa bar...and I just discovered today that they have "Moe Mondays" and you can get a burrito, chips, and a drink for only 5 bucks! It is so fabulous I could go on for hours!
Moe's was the best thing that happened at work today.
The other things that happened at work today...

• I told everyone about my fight with the filing cabinets yesterday.
• I got laughed at.
• I assigned some parking spaces and was somewhat productive for about 10 minutes
• The maintenance team ate all the leftovers from the continental breakfast on Saturday
• I drank too much soda
• I toured a group of people who smelled like poo. Story to follow...

They came in, they were weird. The one had these thick-ass glasses that made her look like she had a lazy eye on one side, or maybe that her head was crooked. But then I realized, no, she wasn't misshapen, there was just a huge chunk of tape on the left side of the glasses holding the lens into the frame. Okay. Broken glasses, I can relate. Then the friend is yammering away while I am trying to give my spiel about the "features" and "amenities" our community has to offer. And she's not saying anything productive, or even asking questions about the community that she would know the answers to had she been listening to my speech. No, she is there, while I am trying to educate her friend on the benefits of having a 3rd floor apartment, telling me how annoying she is...She keeps saying "No really, I am very annoying." Now at this point, she is being very annoying, but what do you say to that? "Yes you are. Can you please put a lid on it so I can get glasses here a new home?" So, I just smile politely and continue. So we go on the tour and I am pointing out the various aforementioned features and amenities...and going up the stairs to the apartment, something stinks. Like poopy diapers. This is not completely unheard of, as sometimes our careless residents leave trash on their balconies and thus require nasty "from the managment team" notices. I think nothing of it and we continue walking and talking. Inside the apartment, which I personally freshened this morning, the stench is worse. I almost pass out. How this funk escaped me in my office is beyond me. But lemme tell you as soon as they left I emptied the lysol disinfecting. Thank heaven today is my friday.

And I will be at the debates on Wednesday. I am hoping there are still tickets left to the simulcast at wells fargo arena, on the jumbotron! I am planning on doing my research and artistically designing a huge, colorful, and witty anti-Bush poster. We will see how that goes, but I can see brand spanking new Crayola markers in my very immediate future. And that will be worth all the while!

so work is over.

Soooo...work is finally over. However, I do have one story left to tell from today.

I got in a fight. With the file cabinets. Now, on a normal day we don't get along very well. On Sunday, all bets are off. Fucker. See, on Sunday, I have to do all the filing that everyone else in the office could easily do, as they work. Simply pulling open the drawers and sticking the papers in the appropriate folder. However, it seems easier to just stack them all on top of the filing cabinet and call it my responsibility to do over the weekend. So, as per my list earlier, filing is always on my mind on Sunday. I finally get around to it today, and let me just give you a quick background on the filing cabinets at my work. They are full beyond belief...in fact, if their cheap metal frames were capable of bulging outward, they would. So, I have these stacks of papers that have to fit in with all the other papers that are popping out of folders precariously throughout the cabinet. Let me just remind you that I am soft, and these cabinets are hard, and the experience is something akin to trying to pry open a very stubborn keyring. Let me just also explain that I happen to be on the short side, and by short I mean that whenever I feel too lazy to do something, I simply wave my arms over my head and pretend that I can't reach. This works very well for maintaing the radio system, needing anything in the kitchen, or having to put away dishes. Anyway, on with the battle. So, in order to reach into the top drawer I have to stand on my toes. I am standing on my toes, trying to pry apart a space between folders, and the thing bites me. No really, I swear, full on I have a cut on my knuckle. My damn fingers got caught in this death trap of papers and I am shaking the whole thing to get it out, and when I pull my hand out of the drawer it snags on some metal bracket on one of the folders, and I am bleeding. So I run to the back office, swearing, and vowing to never talk to it again. (have I mentioned that I work alone on Sundays? and I have the tendancy to give human abilities to the inanimate objects in my office in order to have friends at work...but only on Sunday) So I end up pouting in the back office, singing "All by Myself" until I realize I only have a half hour to go and I still need to close everything up, finish the filing so I don't get in trouble when everyone comes back on Monday, and enter in all my shit from the week. Stupid filing cabinet.

things to do tomorrow

• talk about the re-re kid that lives behind the office
• pay extravagant victoria's secret bill
• not eat, in order to accomplish above
• find someone for whom to wear the new items that created the extravagant victoria's secret bill

in the last 30 minutes...

in the last thirty minutes since I wrote the first post...oh so much has happened.

• started biting nails, now have none left and a bleeding pinky where a hangnail used to be.
• thought about doing the filing...
• answered a phone call for a work order
• thought about typing work order
• looked up ennui on google
• ennui is my favorite word this month
• put work orders in numerical order
• thought about getting up to file them
• read fabulous blog, also with ennui in the title (found on google)
• thought about entering work order
• wondered what everyone with the day off is doing
• thought about beer and hot sex
• called someone I probaly shouldn't have....
• thought about doing the filing...again
• compared my watch to the clock...same time

yes, folks, I am telling you this is a day to not forget...

Sunday or A Week Within a Day...

Can any day of the week really be longer than Sunday? This is supposed to be a day of rest, relaxation, extensive football watching forced upon us by my roommate's boyfriend. God forbid I have to work for four hours every Sunday. I get no beer here, no nachos with vegan cheeze sauce, did I mention no beer? See, now even if I were to get out of bed early enough to join the morning festivities, is it really worth it? I tell you no, since I will just be ironing my shirt while jealously watching my friends crack open the suds and mow on leftover tacos. Fuckers, all of them. So, Sunday starts with me laying on my bed, ignoring the chatter and whoops from below. Doesn't the world care that no one else has to work on Sunday? Okay, so that could really be further from the truth...but come on. Every Sunday, I sit in the back office, hiding like a bear hides in a cave. Please no residents, or at least no angry residents. I can't believe the number of people who try to have major accomplishments over the weekend. Is it that hard to believe that they just put a peon like myself here on the weekend? Is a manager REALLY going to come in on a Sunday? Let me answer that for you, NO! So if you have a major problem, come back Monday through Friday 9am to 6pm, when the important staff is here, otherwise, fuck off! I got nothing for you. Anyway, so I sit here, from 12-4 and count the minutes until I am off. It really makes the day drag. And so by the time I am home, the friends are uselessly drunk on the couch. This means I make them food, they nap, recover, I watch Sunday night HBO early since we get the east coast channel. And since Sunday is famous for cheap drinks...the night begins anew. It is like a week within a day...seriously.