Warning: This note contains obscenities, sexual references, and will most likely offend.
I came to the conclusion today that it should be mandatory for women who are experiencing PMS to have the most severe day off, away from work. I wanted to spit fire at everyone who came in my office or called my phone. Well, not everyone. There are a couple that can camp out in my office and I would be oh so happy.
Anyway, I know you women have experienced those days when the smallest thing will set you off. Guys don’t get it. If they did, these idiots I work amongst would stay far, far way.
Let me give you some reasons why I need a mandatory PMS day off.
The “cougher” across the hall. ALL day long he coughs. He smokes every half hour…clockwork. I realize you can get cancer from breathing certain things but I’ve caught myself hoping I’m not breathing this shit he’s coughing up… ALL day long.
He was behind me at the copier today…..coughing a lung up….and I turned and gave him the look only a woman experiencing PMS can give, and his response was, “I know, I know, I’ve got to quit. They are putting some kind of flame retardant in the cigarettes and I must be allergic to them.”
You think? Without risking not sounding enough like Rush Limbaugh and offending Sarah Palin……nah, I’m not even going there.
The moron next door. He’s like a small child. For example, today he heard our boss in my office and comes in, waves a piece of paper in the boss’ face, and turns around to walk out. I’m surprised he didn’t say “nah-ny nah-ny boo boo”. What grown man does that?
He will send emails, copy me on them, and immediately come to my office, asking if I read it.. He gets to my desk BEFORE the email even shows up in my in-box.
DUDE, come on.
He does so little and is so excited when he accomplishes something, he has to run to my office and display it proudly. You want to know the super, most sad part of it? He is technically considered my supervisor. And don’t you know I’m made fun of because of it.
The “pleasureless” rolly polly. He checked a manual out from my office this morning, marked “Book #1”. He brings it back to return it this afternoon and looks absolutely lost as to what to do with it. I point to the bookshelf behind him. There are nine more books, marked “Book #2, Book #3, etc. He says, “No, I’m pretty sure I got it from that drawer behind you.”
I let him go on as if he possibly knew what he was talking about. He gets to the drawer behind me and is uttering something about needing his mentor across the hall to help him. He then said he couldn’t find the sign out card he used to sign the book out. I said, in only a tone that a woman experiencing PMS could use, “You mean the one there in the open slot of the bookshelf, beside “Book 2”, where “Book 1” would be?”
Geez.
I realized today that it’s been almost a year since I felt the warm touch of a man.
Who am I kidding? I didn’t “realize” it today. Hell, I’ve been counting the days since March 29, 2009. To make it worse, I kicked Buzz off the bed by accident and he broke into pieces.
My friends here at work tell me the obvious…”go get another”. They don’t understand. I don’t need one that runs on batteries. MARCH 29, 2009. I need one that runs off a utility pole!
You know the one other thing that could help me get thru this crisis called PMS? Chocolate.. But my dumb ass gave up sweets for Lent. Lent isn’t practiced in the denomination I grew up in…I’m doing it to support a friend that is practicing this self-deprivation exercise. This is only the first day…..and I want to bed Willy Wonka!!
I can hear my mother now. How can you talk about religion and say all the things you’ve said?
It’s called forgiveness. God knew I was going to be bitter and lyrically uncontrollable the day he made me a woman.
Maybe tomorrow will be better. For the sake of this little humanity I work with….they better hope so.
Peace my peeps.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
A Crack House
You know, some of you have said, “Jenny, write a book”, and I often wonder what in the world I would write about. I’ve come up with an idea and I think it’s a pretty good one. My only concern is, if I hit the big time with it, and quit my job to write a sequel, where would I get material without having to show up at my present place of employment?
You’ve read some of the things I’ve said about work. Each day is something completely different. For instance, a new contract person was hired a couple weeks ago. He and another contract person were discussing their wives….in MY office….the day after this guy was hired. I’ve said before, my office is where these men seem to congregate. I’ve wondered if it’s because of my pleasant personality or my boobs, but regardless, they gather. If they only really knew what I was saying under my breath they wouldn’t come anywhere near my office.
Anyway, they were talking about the wives and how each was married to the best cook. The newest one said that he’s got the best wife ever (it’s his third)….she’s a stay at home wife, does whatever for him, and then he states, “but she doesn’t pleasure me anymore…we’re past that”. I could have thrown up.
The other one gets this disgusting grin on his face and says, “We’re not past it”. I could have gone FOREVER without hearing that.
What would possess two men that barely know me to talk about their sex life in front of me? They are both in their late 50’s/ early 60’s and the last thing I want to hear about is their “pleasure” in life. If I’m not gettin’ any then I don’t want to hear about what they get or don’t get.
Well, today, the third contract person was in the office across from me with one of the other guys. This one isn’t married and is one of the weirdest people I’ve ever met. In fact, he’s down right creepy. When he first started he was put on second shift and would come in about the time I would head home. I had to start shutting my door because he would come in on nights I would work late and just talk to me….in ways that made me uncomfortable….and it takes a lot to make me uncomfortable.
Anyway, this guy is on days now and hangs out some across the hall. He was telling the other guy about some strip club he went to last night and what the dancer was doing to the pole.
I KID YOU NOT. They were having a conversation about a pole dancer and the way her leg was holding her up, and how amazing her leg strength was.
Where else could I work where that is acceptable talk within earshot of a woman? Don’t get me wrong. I’m NO prude and I do my fair share of smack talking with my friends….but they are my friends. These are grown men, talking with their outside voices about a pole dancer and what they’d like to do with her.
I know what I’d like for her to do to them.
I’d like her to take those long, sexy, strong thighs and wrap them around their heads, squeeze…the way she does that pole….until all the air is out of them. That would render them unable to talk.
In general, it’s funny to hear men talk about women. It can be the grossest, most disgusting guy and he will see a woman, tell his buddies what he would do to her, how he would treat her, etc…when in fact, this said woman doesn’t know he exists, wouldn’t give him the time of day, and would rather find a lesbian lover than even THINK of bumpin’ nasties with him.
They are so funny. They think just because they’re packin’ that any woman would want to hit it. Actually, “hit it” might be the correct term, only in a different context.
Some men think they are just that slick. Oh, to have their confidence.
But then I have one coworker that visits every afternoon who I wish had some of this over the top male confidence.
He travels every weekend, more than 300 miles one way, to visit a woman with 4 children, no job, on food stamps…..and when he gets there, has him watch the kids while she goes out with another man. Wow.
And he says he’d marry her in a heartbeat. Perhaps he needs his heart beat.
I’d like to introduce him to the creep with the pole dancing story. At least he’d get him out to meet a woman with a job.
This place is a bouillabaisse of literary material because it’s festering with the preposterous. Simply stated….a crack house.
You’ve read some of the things I’ve said about work. Each day is something completely different. For instance, a new contract person was hired a couple weeks ago. He and another contract person were discussing their wives….in MY office….the day after this guy was hired. I’ve said before, my office is where these men seem to congregate. I’ve wondered if it’s because of my pleasant personality or my boobs, but regardless, they gather. If they only really knew what I was saying under my breath they wouldn’t come anywhere near my office.
Anyway, they were talking about the wives and how each was married to the best cook. The newest one said that he’s got the best wife ever (it’s his third)….she’s a stay at home wife, does whatever for him, and then he states, “but she doesn’t pleasure me anymore…we’re past that”. I could have thrown up.
The other one gets this disgusting grin on his face and says, “We’re not past it”. I could have gone FOREVER without hearing that.
What would possess two men that barely know me to talk about their sex life in front of me? They are both in their late 50’s/ early 60’s and the last thing I want to hear about is their “pleasure” in life. If I’m not gettin’ any then I don’t want to hear about what they get or don’t get.
Well, today, the third contract person was in the office across from me with one of the other guys. This one isn’t married and is one of the weirdest people I’ve ever met. In fact, he’s down right creepy. When he first started he was put on second shift and would come in about the time I would head home. I had to start shutting my door because he would come in on nights I would work late and just talk to me….in ways that made me uncomfortable….and it takes a lot to make me uncomfortable.
Anyway, this guy is on days now and hangs out some across the hall. He was telling the other guy about some strip club he went to last night and what the dancer was doing to the pole.
I KID YOU NOT. They were having a conversation about a pole dancer and the way her leg was holding her up, and how amazing her leg strength was.
Where else could I work where that is acceptable talk within earshot of a woman? Don’t get me wrong. I’m NO prude and I do my fair share of smack talking with my friends….but they are my friends. These are grown men, talking with their outside voices about a pole dancer and what they’d like to do with her.
I know what I’d like for her to do to them.
I’d like her to take those long, sexy, strong thighs and wrap them around their heads, squeeze…the way she does that pole….until all the air is out of them. That would render them unable to talk.
In general, it’s funny to hear men talk about women. It can be the grossest, most disgusting guy and he will see a woman, tell his buddies what he would do to her, how he would treat her, etc…when in fact, this said woman doesn’t know he exists, wouldn’t give him the time of day, and would rather find a lesbian lover than even THINK of bumpin’ nasties with him.
They are so funny. They think just because they’re packin’ that any woman would want to hit it. Actually, “hit it” might be the correct term, only in a different context.
Some men think they are just that slick. Oh, to have their confidence.
But then I have one coworker that visits every afternoon who I wish had some of this over the top male confidence.
He travels every weekend, more than 300 miles one way, to visit a woman with 4 children, no job, on food stamps…..and when he gets there, has him watch the kids while she goes out with another man. Wow.
And he says he’d marry her in a heartbeat. Perhaps he needs his heart beat.
I’d like to introduce him to the creep with the pole dancing story. At least he’d get him out to meet a woman with a job.
This place is a bouillabaisse of literary material because it’s festering with the preposterous. Simply stated….a crack house.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Calling on the Holy Ghost
I made a very bad decision today to eat lunch in my office. Here's why....
After finishing a lunch I didn't enjoy, I took my bowl and utensil to the ladies room to rinse in the sink. That's disgusting, I know, but I have no other place to rinse. While rinsing I could hear a man's voice in the men's room thru the wall. Oh, no. It sounded very familiar and again, I had no warning. I tried to finish rinsing as fast as I could, splashing water everywhere and all over the front of my pants, desperately trying to get out of there before he did.
I quietly shut the door behind me and raced back to my office. I have two office doors. One has a security key pad that the few people who know the code can use to access the documents in my office. The other one is a regular door with a regular lock so those that don't know the security code can enter by using a master key....which I find so stupid that it's funny....but that is a different story. I shut the security door and pull the other door to, but not all the way.
Oh...now I need to look busier than ever. If it was him he will surely stop in here and I don't want him to think he has an invitation to hang out. I gather some things I need to make a phone call and dial the number. While I'm on the phone with Wendy, a pleasant employee helping me handle the fraudulent charge against my credit card at the the GameFly she works for, I hear panting outside the door.
Now, I know I've got it going on and men pant at the mere thought of me (sarcasm) but this is ridiculous.
I can only hope dear Wendy doesn't hear what I'm hearing. I look up with disgust and sure enough, it's "sPEEster"
I have yet to disclose this person's occupation or employer, only stating that I met him casually and he shows up here every now and then. Due to the confidential materials I work with I am not at liberty to say what he does here, only that his behavior is NOT what one would think is acceptable of a man in his position.
He continues to stand in the doorway of my office, staring at me, while I stare back, saying all kinds of expletives under my breath. I finish the call with Wendy and say "Hello" to him. He comes in and asks what I'm doing. I respond with what is so obvious and then he pulls up a chair at the end of my desk.
Good grief.
I don't know how it started but he begins to talk about the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost and I was hoping any one of those three would show up and escort him out my door....preferably the Ghost.
He tells me the story of him having to get another tire (refer to Blindsiding Jesus note). He goes on to say something about me having so much money I don't have to work. I let him know that although I'm not there yet, once I finish the book I'm writing (in which he unknowingly is a character), I will have plenty. He responds that he's going to write a book on romance. I somehow wonder if it will include peeing on his woman to mark his spot.
A friend of mine came in to get a book and shook hands with "sPEEster". I gasped inside. They exchanged pleasantries and my friend headed back to his office.
Then, thank goodness "sPEEster" gets a phone call, only he doesn't leave. He says, "It's Hank", his co-worker, and puts him on speaker phone. Like I really want to hear both of them! Anyway, "Hank" is another one who is not at all a shining representative of his company. He used to talk openly in the halls, telling dildo jokes and talking about mating activities of gay men. In any company but the one I work for, this behavior would not be tolerated and he would be told to never step foot on the property again. Again, that's for a different story.
While "sPEEster" is on the phone I send my friend a quick email, reminding him that "sPEEster" shifts his stick without washing his hands....and he just shook it. I won't repeat the response I got back from that one!
Anyway, the two are discussing where they want to meet up once "Hank" arrives and "sPEEster" suggests a spot. He then asks where "sPEEster" is presently and about some other people he refers to as "jerk offs". I look at him and tell him he needs to leave.
He doesn't. Worse. The moron that sits in the office beside me comes in and waits for "sPEEster" to get off the phone. They start talking about what "sPEEster" is doing here and what's going on. They chit chat casually until I've had enough and tell them both they will have to take their conversation somewhere else.
I find it so incredibly rude that people will have a conversation in another's office without any regard to the person trying to work. Or coming up with notes for her next story....
Oh, how I long for the days I used to get the voice mail, "Jenny, Jenny...who can I turn to?" and WARNED that he would be around. At least then I would know to go out at lunch, and to lock the secured and unsecured doors to my office.
I begin to pray....Our Father/Son/Holy Ghost who art in heaven...... Help Me!
Peace my peeps.
After finishing a lunch I didn't enjoy, I took my bowl and utensil to the ladies room to rinse in the sink. That's disgusting, I know, but I have no other place to rinse. While rinsing I could hear a man's voice in the men's room thru the wall. Oh, no. It sounded very familiar and again, I had no warning. I tried to finish rinsing as fast as I could, splashing water everywhere and all over the front of my pants, desperately trying to get out of there before he did.
I quietly shut the door behind me and raced back to my office. I have two office doors. One has a security key pad that the few people who know the code can use to access the documents in my office. The other one is a regular door with a regular lock so those that don't know the security code can enter by using a master key....which I find so stupid that it's funny....but that is a different story. I shut the security door and pull the other door to, but not all the way.
Oh...now I need to look busier than ever. If it was him he will surely stop in here and I don't want him to think he has an invitation to hang out. I gather some things I need to make a phone call and dial the number. While I'm on the phone with Wendy, a pleasant employee helping me handle the fraudulent charge against my credit card at the the GameFly she works for, I hear panting outside the door.
Now, I know I've got it going on and men pant at the mere thought of me (sarcasm) but this is ridiculous.
I can only hope dear Wendy doesn't hear what I'm hearing. I look up with disgust and sure enough, it's "sPEEster"
I have yet to disclose this person's occupation or employer, only stating that I met him casually and he shows up here every now and then. Due to the confidential materials I work with I am not at liberty to say what he does here, only that his behavior is NOT what one would think is acceptable of a man in his position.
He continues to stand in the doorway of my office, staring at me, while I stare back, saying all kinds of expletives under my breath. I finish the call with Wendy and say "Hello" to him. He comes in and asks what I'm doing. I respond with what is so obvious and then he pulls up a chair at the end of my desk.
Good grief.
I don't know how it started but he begins to talk about the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost and I was hoping any one of those three would show up and escort him out my door....preferably the Ghost.
He tells me the story of him having to get another tire (refer to Blindsiding Jesus note). He goes on to say something about me having so much money I don't have to work. I let him know that although I'm not there yet, once I finish the book I'm writing (in which he unknowingly is a character), I will have plenty. He responds that he's going to write a book on romance. I somehow wonder if it will include peeing on his woman to mark his spot.
A friend of mine came in to get a book and shook hands with "sPEEster". I gasped inside. They exchanged pleasantries and my friend headed back to his office.
Then, thank goodness "sPEEster" gets a phone call, only he doesn't leave. He says, "It's Hank", his co-worker, and puts him on speaker phone. Like I really want to hear both of them! Anyway, "Hank" is another one who is not at all a shining representative of his company. He used to talk openly in the halls, telling dildo jokes and talking about mating activities of gay men. In any company but the one I work for, this behavior would not be tolerated and he would be told to never step foot on the property again. Again, that's for a different story.
While "sPEEster" is on the phone I send my friend a quick email, reminding him that "sPEEster" shifts his stick without washing his hands....and he just shook it. I won't repeat the response I got back from that one!
Anyway, the two are discussing where they want to meet up once "Hank" arrives and "sPEEster" suggests a spot. He then asks where "sPEEster" is presently and about some other people he refers to as "jerk offs". I look at him and tell him he needs to leave.
He doesn't. Worse. The moron that sits in the office beside me comes in and waits for "sPEEster" to get off the phone. They start talking about what "sPEEster" is doing here and what's going on. They chit chat casually until I've had enough and tell them both they will have to take their conversation somewhere else.
I find it so incredibly rude that people will have a conversation in another's office without any regard to the person trying to work. Or coming up with notes for her next story....
Oh, how I long for the days I used to get the voice mail, "Jenny, Jenny...who can I turn to?" and WARNED that he would be around. At least then I would know to go out at lunch, and to lock the secured and unsecured doors to my office.
I begin to pray....Our Father/Son/Holy Ghost who art in heaven...... Help Me!
Peace my peeps.
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