Friday, September 30, 2005


Well I think it's safe to say that RotoRooter is good for at least one interesting comment whenever I talk to him. This morning I was wasting time hanging out in PartnerInCrime's office, and RotoRooter walked by. He stuck his head in and wished me a belated happy birthday. I thanked him, and then he asked how old I am.

Me: 31

RotoRooter: Wow! You're puppy chow!

Me: Puppy chow?!

RotoRooter: Come on, I have underwear that's older than you! [walks away laughing]

I'm not sure what's more disturbing, picturing myself as "puppy chow", or imagining a 31-year old pair of underwear. Ew.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Old age is fun

Well it's my birthday today. And because birthdays are such a big deal in this office, everyone knows it. I thought I'd be let off the hook by Nutjob's long-awaited return, but there isn't as much hoopla surrounding her as I thought there'd be. I've never been very hung up on age, so the fact that I'm turning 31 today (well, not until 5:30, as my mom reminded me when she called today) doesn't phase me. I really don't care one way or the other. Jane, however, is for some reason very pleased about this. If anyone comes by and wishes me a happy birthday, if she is in the vicinity, she crows "She's 31!!! She's an old bag now!". Um, thanks. I think. Being 31 doesn't bother me. Being called an "old bag" by a 50-something woman is just plain bizarre.

So yes, Nutjob is back today, and picked up right where she left off- on my nerves. The only good thing about her return is seeing Jane get increasingly pissed off by the attention Nutjob is getting. She keeps telling me "I can't stand it. I'm sick of it already." Basically, people are stopping by and asking how she's feeling. In my book, that's the polite thing to do when someone's been out for two weeks. I'm not sure what Jane expects people to do, ignore her completely? And to her credit, Nutjob isn't even pouring it on as thick as I expected. Of course, it is only 11:00. There's a whole day yet to work up the drama.

Monday, September 26, 2005


For all the responses to my pole. Um, poll. (Shut up, Beavis!) Strangely enough, the thought hadn't occurred to me that he'd been "overemphasizing" the reaction of the people he asked. If he even asked anyone at all. Because who was it who supposedly offended people by asking them for money? FuckingLyingScumbag, that's who. So, I think that pretty much says it all right there.

And for the record, I highly doubt the people he asked were affected by Katrina in any way. I don't think even he is that crass.

Did you have any doubt...

...that Nutjob would milk this for all it's worth? Today, she called Jane to tell her that she was going to call me and my boss tomorrow to tell us that her doctor said she had to stay home until Thursday, not Wednesday as previously thought. So... if she called Jane, why couldn't she just call my boss and give her the message directly?

Maybe it has something to do with the walks she's taking. AngrySally told me today that she was driving through Nutjob's town this weekend and saw Nutjob walking down the street with a bunch of friends. She pulled over to talk to Nutjob, who promptly imformed her that she was outside "because my doctor told me to get some air because my back is hurting me." Um... ok. On what planet does that make sense?

Swamp Thing

I don't know if this will be amusing to anyone but me, but what the heck, it's my blog, so I'm posting it. This morning I opened my mail from Friday and discovered a citation from a town where one of our properties is, citing us for violating "sanitation code WNIUHIEB666690.000". (Ok that's not the real code, you got me). According to them, the pond on the property is "stagnant and overgrown". Well, duh, how else are we supposed to cultivate mosquitos?! I handed them over to the appropriate property manager and she rolled her eyes and said "Yeah, we know our pond is ugly." PartnerInCrime, who lives near the property in question and drives by it every day, said he has been complaining to the brokers about it for weeks- he is expecting an alligator to come out of there any day now.

So, now I have something to compete with my dad's near-arrest for "propelling a laundry cart in a scooter-like fashion" during his wild college years. Being cited for a "stagnant and overgrown pond" isn't quite as dramatic, but it's close.

Thursday, September 22, 2005


Ok folks, I have an informal poll to take.

Huh huh... huh huh huh... she said pole.

Back in August we started collecting money for BigCharity for our Big Charity Event. Some of us began asking for donations at that time, and some people put it off until closer to the Event, which is later in the fall. Unfortunately for those people, Hurrican Katrina intervened and now many people's charity budgets are going toward aid for that disaster. I've anticipated having a hard time raising money now, and all of us laid off the fundraising for the few weeks following Katrina. In response to the disaster, BigCharity donated a very healthy sum to help with the situation in the Gulf. I have been mentioning this when giving my spiel now that I've started up again.

However, one broker called and said he felt very uncomforatble asking for donations in the wake of the disaster. (ouch. wrong choice of words.) He said he'd talked to a few people and both were offended that he asked them for money for a charity other than ones going to the Katrina relief efforts. Now, I can completely understand not wanting to beg for donations at a time like this, to each his own. But people getting offended? What the heck is so offensive about asking for a donation for a worthy cause? This is a very solid charity, and totally non-partisan (i.e. not Save The Seals International or something like that). I understand that people may have given a lot to the relief effort and not have anything else left over, that's fine. But to get offended? I'm not sure I get that. This charity's cause hasn't ceased needing assistance because of the hurricane, so I don't get why people would be offended. Am I way off base on this one? Like I said, I do understand that people might not want to give, and I am not the type to push them. But I don't get the offended part.

Missed Opportunity

Musketeer #1: Oh, I have to tell you what my son said when I drove him to school today.

Me: Oh yeah? [and why can't the kid take the bus?]

Musketeer #1: He asked me if there's anyone here in the office before me, and I said no and asked him why. He said 'Because I called there. I wanted to tell one of the secretaries to laugh at your shirt when you came in'.

The kid is a chip off the old block, no doubt about it.

PS- It's a bright teal green polo shirt. I think it's a refugee from 1987.

Somehow, we're surviving without her

Nutjob is actually quite ill, and will be in the hospital for at least the rest of the week, possibly longer. Knowing how quickly insurance companies kick out out these days, I can only surmise that she must be practially at death's door for them to be keeping her this long. I actually feel bad for her. She must have aged another 30 years in there, because when I talked to her yesterday, she sounded just like my grandmother sounds when she is in the hospital.

However, this little episode is supplying no end of interesting tidbits involving Jane. It's just eating her up that Nutjob is getting all this attention and she's not even here. It will be even worse when she gets back.

I'm going to be a total pain in the ass though and not relate all the stories right now. I'm lazy. They'll come later when I get some motivation.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

You know it's going to be a long day when...

1) Musketeer #1 complains at length about the fact that he has to wear a tie today for a meeting, and explains in detail how the tie is too damn long and the back piece is tucked into his shirt and is at least six inches down into his pants.

2) RotoRooter comes over to your cube for no apparent reason, hunches down and rests his nose on the top of the cube wall, grabs the cube with both hands and says (in a muffled voice) "Killroy was here".

Oh and did I mention I have been up since 4:30 this morning? Yeah. Just hook up the caffiene IV now.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

My boss is here today and we are trying to work on a report together. Her completely laissez-faire work ethic does not meld well with my incredibly anal one. It's a good thing we get along on a personal level. So, I have been scurrying around trying to finish up a report at the last minute, and in the middle of this, PartnerInCrime called and asked a question for which I had to duck into HeadHoncho's office for the answer. As I was returning to my desk from his office, I heard my boss, who didn't realize I'd left my desk, ask me a question.

My boss: What general ledger number is training anyway?

Me: five-five-five. (somewhat abruptly as I returned to my desk to get back to PartnerInCrime's phone call)

My boss: Ok. You need to get a life life life.

Sure. I've been here for eight years. I think I know a few general ledger numbers off the top of my head. Anyway.... A few minutes later I was on my way to the kitchen for my daily afternoon cup of coffee (Mr. Misogyny was nowhere in sight, thankfully) when I picked up a fax off my fax machine. My boss happened to be walking by as I said out loud to no one in particular "Oh, I was just wondering about this. I have a psychic connection with OurSignCompany!"

My boss: I repeat my earlier statement.

I may need to get a life, but she needs to get some goddamn Focus Factor.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Surprise, surprise

Well with all the crazy things Nutjob does to lose weight, it had to happen sooner or later. I came in this morning to a message on my voice mail from Nutjob, saying she was in the hospital. She's there for a few days for observation because of some kind of problem with her [deleted to comply with HIPPA]. Taking copious amounts of diet pills will ultimately have some effect on your [see above].

Now, despite the cavalier tone of this post, I really do feel bad for her. Being in the hospital is no fun, no matter what the reason. And if she really is in there because of something she did trying to lose weight, then I feel that much sorrier for her because she obviously has more problems to deal with than her kidneys.

Still.... even though I immediately made an appropriately concerned phone call and ordered flowers to be delivered, I can't help but cringe when I think of just how long she'll milk this when she gets back.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Coffee Klatsch

Surely you've not forgotten Mr. Misogyny, king of "that's women's work". Why is it that I always bump into him when I'm getting my afternoon coffee? I went into the kitchen to get some coffee, because it was either that or tell Jane to shove her questions up her ass, and a pot had just finished brewing. As I was taking it out of the machine and putting it on the counter, Mr. Misogyny walked in.

Mr. Misogyny: OH! Look at that, there's coffee!

Me: Yeah, just finished brewing.

Mr. Misogyny: You have to time it right around here if you want coffee.

Me: Well it must be popular today because I know Sam* just brewed a pot an hour ago.

Mr. Misogyny: Sam? Sam brewed coffee? Huh, how about that.

I bit my tongue, very hard.

Mr. Misogyny: Well you know Sam. He and Phil* are in the coffee-drinking corner. They have to have their coffee!

Must. Not. Make. Smartassed. Comment.

He finally left, and as I was pouring my own cup, in walked Phil. I flashed him my best smile and said in my best syrrpy sweet voice "Coffee's ready!"

Phil (laughing): I know it's ready, because I made it.

Me: Well, Mr Misogyny was just in here, and he was stunned that someone besides a woman made it.

Phil: I'm not surprised.

Me: It's beneath him, you know.

Phil: Well you know, some assholes are bigger than others.

Coffee shooting out your nose is really uncomfortable.

*not his real name, blah blah blah

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

I'm establishing my defense. If I'm arrested for murder, please supply this to my lawyer.

Completely randomly...

Nutjob: Today's the 14th! Oh my god, the 14th already! This time last year it would have been two weeks 'til I went to Hawaii!

Tapdancing on my last nerve...

Musketeer #3: What's the name of the file?

Nutjob: walton

Musketeer #3: walton?

Nutjob: Walton. Like John boy? John boy! You know, John boy! JohnboyJohnboyJohnboy!!!

Never fucking satisfied....

All week last week, several people bitched and moaned about how hot it was in here. It really wasn't, but Mr Schizo was about to break my kneecaps, so I figured I should mollify him. I summoned the building manager, or at least attempted to, and got no response until this Monday. (that's a whole other issue...). Since Monday, when they "fixed" the problem, it's been pretty chilly in here. Not cold, but cool enough to need long sleeves. Cool enough to need to wear a shirt that actually covers you. Several people have come to me complaining about the "cold". I told them to put a sweater on. RunOnSentence in particular has mentioned more than once how cold it is in here. More than once, I've told her to bring a sweater. What is so hard to understand about that? Sometimes it gets cool in here. Yeah, they're jerking us around but I am not about to call them now and tell them it's too damn cold in here. Especially because IT'S NOT!

Thank you, that is all. For now.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005


I was walking from the opposite end of the office toward my cube, and passed Musketeer #1 leaning on Musketeer #3's cube, chatting.

Mustketeer #1: ....and I got rid of all the superfluous tabs. (pause) Hey! I just used a ... (counts on fingers) four-cylinder word!

Me: a "four-cylinder" word?

Musketeer #1: Ha! I guess I have cars on the brain. Now I have to try to think of an eight-cylinder word. Hmmm....

Shall I give you the nails, so you can put yourself on the cross?

Recently, BlogCompany finally got with the times and replaced most of the dreadfully old computers the administrative assistants had been using. Of course they didn't all come at once, they came in dribs and drabs. Better than nothing. Not long ago, MarketingGal mentioned that her monitor was making a very high-pitched sound that went on constantly for hours, and then randomly stopped. Oddly enough, today Jane was experiencing the same problem. I came over to investigate.

Jane: Do you hear that?

Me: Yeah. MarketingGal is having the exact same problem, and she has a new computer too. Let me email Regional IT Guy.

Several minutes later I heard her start bitching.

Jane: Oh! This is terrible. This is going to drive me nuts!

Me: Would you like to swap monitors with another computer until we get it figured out?

Jane (sighing): Oh, no... I wouldn't want you to go to all that trouble! I'll just see... I'll just wait and see how bad it gets. (a few seconds' pause) Oh this is just going to drive me nuts!

I made rude faces at the cube partition.

About twenty minutes later, HeadHoncho came out to give her something.

Jane: Hear that?! Do you hear that dreadful noise my computer is making? It's going to make me crazy!

I wanted to reach my hands through the flimsy cube walls and strangle her. I think she is pissed off because I had a few good ideas in a management meeting today, ideas that HeadHoncho liked, and she was just there to take notes. Since, as she is constantly reminding me, she is "just a peon around here".

Monday, September 12, 2005

Her vacation is over, and so is mine.

Last week, Jane was out on vacation. It was so blessedly quiet, I almost thought I was in heaven. But then I realized... no place with Nutjob within even 4 miles could be considered heaven. But it was close. No cackling laughter, no exceedingly loud phone conversations, no coming over to bother me about whatever insecurity is bugging her now.

But today she came back. We weren't there for 20 minutes when she came over to me and started asking me if Nutjob had been "in her stuff" all week. (She has this paranoid idea that Nutjob goes through her papers when she's out). I told her that I had been keeping tabs on the situation and Nutjob left her stuff alone, that I only heard some rustling over there once, and it turned out to be AngelFish getting a toner for her printer.

Jane: Oh. Well you know, I was telling Husband, how unsettling it is to be away and know you don't have a friend watching out for your stuff.

Umm, did I not just tell her I had kept my eye on her desk? And what's this melodramatic "friend" shit? If I remember correctly SHE was the one who made a big deal about how I am the Office Manager and not her Friend. Whatever. She left, but two minutes later was back, leaning over and whispering to me.

Jane: Did I say something to upset PartnerInCrime?

Me: No, not that I know of, why?

Jane: He didn't ask me how my vacation was.

(Silence from me. I figured there was more to it. There wasn't.)

Jane: I mean, there I was, saying hello to MarketingGal, and he didn't even say anything! He just kept typing!

Wow. What a horrible faux pas. Apparently he forgot that you're the center of the Universe.

Friday, September 09, 2005

It's Friday. Everyone's punchy.

The three Musketeers decided today that they weren't going to do the same old boring thing and go next door for lunch. They decided to go out to one of those really annoying chain restaurants, decorated with random crap that looks like it's about to fall on your head at any moment. Musketeer #1 asked me if I'd like to go with them. I declined, because a)I brought my lunch, b)I didn't feel like dealing with one of those places today, and mostly c)I really didn't feel like listening to the three of them bitch about the company for an hour and a half. Not that I'm any cheerleader for BlogCompany, I try not to take sides in matters such as these, and as such I don't want to hear a bunch of whining. Anyway, Musketeer #1 was somewhat more persistent than usual, which made me even more wary about going, so I stood my ground and stayed in the office. (I had visions of them asking me to come with them if they decided to leave and go somewhere else. They've done it before.)

Later, I learned from PartnerInCrime that it was a 'birthday lunch' for Musketeer #1 and #2, whose birthdays passed within the last two weeks. Now, if Musketeer #1 would have told me that, I would have caved in and gone. I went over to his office to apologize for blowing off his birthday lunch and he went on at length about how upset they were that I didn't join them, and that he had in fact said it was for their birthdays. (I swear he didn't).

Musketeer #1: Musketeer #2, see that? SilentWitness blew off our birthday celebration.

Me: Hey, a girl has to play hard to get.

Musketeer #1 (completely deadpan): For Christ's sake, SilentWitness, it's been seven years already! I'm wearing thin over here!

I rolled my eyes at him.

Musketeer #2: Feel free to come over here and smack him around, SW.

I thought about it, but then I realized he'd probably enjoy that too much.

Take a picture, creep

It has been well documented that The General likes to stare at my ass. Fortunately since Musketeer #1 mentioned to him that I'd caught him several times, he's been embarassed enough not to do it anymore. At least not that I notice. I've spent several blissful oogle-free months, until the other day. It was early in the morning, so one of the copiers hadn't warmed up yet. I was standing around in the copy room, waiting for it to get it's act together, when in walks The General, papers in hand. He started for the black and white copier.

Me: It's still warming up.

The General: Oh. Ok, how about this one?

Me: I think that one's all ready.

I left for a minute and came back just as the copier beeped it's readiness signal. So, I made my copies. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw The General standing there staring at me. I thought maybe he had been waiting to use that copier and I jumped in front of him, so I turned and said:

Me: Oh, did you need the copier?

The General (with an odd little smile): No... that's fine, I have everything I need now.

And he left the room. Good thing, because it would have been really embarassing for him to see me do the skeeve-dance. *shudder*

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Paging Dr. Freud...

After nearly nodding off several times on my way in this morning (not good, I know. I will have to do something about that.), I made a beeline for the coffeemaker when I got here. After brewing a nice fresh pot (ahhhhhh!) I popped my head into Musketeer #1's office to tell him there was fresh coffee. I'm so damn considerate. I mentioned I was already tired, which prompted him to tell me the following story on his way back to his office, fresh coffee in hand.

Musketeer #1: You know, I had such a weird dream last night. It was bizarre. Some guy was chasing me, and I had a huge knife and - I was watching something violent before I went to bed, I forget what - I brought it down and chopped off his fingers. I heard the sound, like "whump!", it was gross. But here's the really fucked up part. The guy keeps chasing me, but he turns into a giant tree. And he's trying to kill me with his dick! Which is like this long! (holds up his hands about 3 feet apart). And all this stuff was spewing out!

Me: Wait. He was a tree? But he had a big dick?

Musketeer #1: Yeah! And balls too. It was like... you could see his face, but then he was a tree. I was trying to stab him in the balls and I woke up. I was like "whoa, what the fuck is wrong with me?".


Thursday, September 01, 2005

The all-seeing, all-knowing Nutjob

It's very quiet here, being a day before the day before a holiday weekend and all, so there are less people to pay attention to Nutjob. (Didn't you know that's why we're all here?) She must be feeling her oats, because she's been butting into conversations all morning. (Background info: "Shell Bay" is the fictitious name of a property on the Gulf that the Musketeers were trying to sell. Operative word being "were").

Musketeer #3: Hey PartnerInCrime, I don't think you're going to get any money out of Shell Bay.

PartnerInCrime: Oh yeah? How-

Nutjob: Hey PartnerInCrime did you get my email?!?


PIC: Uh, no I haven't looked yet.

Musketeer #3: You know, Nutjob, we were in the middle of a conversation.

Nutjob (in her cute little girl voice): Oh. Well..... you were in that room!

[more silence]

PIC: Nutjob what the hell does that mean?!

Musketeer #3: So anyway, Shell Bay is destroyed.

PIC: Aw, really?

Nutjob: *I* don't think so.

Musketeer #3: You don't think so, huh?

Nutjob: Nope!

Musketeer #3 finally figured out to start ignoring her, and continued his conversation with PIC. I see why she does it- it works. For some reason, people don't ignore her when she does it, they respond to her, which of course is what she wants. Just once, I'd love to see someone completely ignore her when she interrupts like that. It might be worth it to see what she'd resort to in order to get some attention.