Sayonara, Suckers

My cubicle is pretty much empty, I have tied up all the possible loose ends, and I have absolutely nothing to do. Do not ask me why I didn't just take a vacation day (since they don't pay for unused vacation days when I leave and I have like, 50+ hours of vacation time accrued that is basically being flushed down the toilet). I think I might be a special kind of masochist.

There are some things I will miss. For example, the family atmosphere. Even if it is one of those families where they constantly take advantage of you because "its family" and no one really ever takes you seriously because no one will ever forget that time when you were five and you bobbed for apples in the toilet.

I will miss the free soda. On the other hand, it's probably not healthy to drink 5 Diet Dr. Peppers in a day, especially when you have an anxiety disorder and tend to react to caffeine like a crack addled squirrel on a meth binge.

I will miss Super Dave, the office superhero, who saves the day through amazing feats like answering the phone. And signing for FedEx packages. I really should have gotten him a cape as a parting gift.

I will miss Mountain Man who always talks about how much pot he smoked over the weekend and the Widespread Panic shows he has seen. He was always good for a decent bitch session considering he's the only other person in the office who did not vote for George W. Bush even once (let alone twice) and who doesn't think voting for O'Bama made me an America hating commie who eats babies.

I won't miss having to answer the phone. I definitely won't miss conversations like this one:

Good Ol' Boy: Hey, honey, listen. I need you to change the language in this assessment so we don't look like we polluted the site, even though we did.

Me: No, I cannot just say that everything was fine and I didn't see any problems. There's a 2 mile oil stain on your property.

Good Ol' Boy: Well, darlin', can't you just mention that but not make a big deal out of it?

Me:...

I won't miss the attitude that I must automatically be better at making copies because I have female reproductive organs.

I won't miss having my concentration broken in the middle of a big project because some of the bosses don't understand how to print their own e-mails. Or how to put a piece of paper in a file that is sitting right in front of them. Or how to add extra lines to their spreadsheets.

I'm ready to start my new job as an Air Inspector. There is something refreshingly bizarre about that title. I will be the best inspector they ever had. I will be like Inspector Gadget without the wheelie feet. I do have freakishly long arms that might serve as the go-go-gadget-arms. Do-do-do-doo-do Inspector Gadget duh duh duh duh du-duh du-duh. Whatever. I'm not...music-y.

Exciting! Adventures!! Now with TOOTHPASTE!!!

No habla English.

First thing this morning (and I mean, literally, ALMOST THE VERY FIRST THING I DID) I found myself chasing the little fat Lucifer seedlet we call our second dog down the street in my pajamas. And bare feet. With my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth.

I learned two things this morning:

1. Evil apparently gives you the power to dislocate and relocate all your bones. Or liquefy them. Or something. It is the only explanation for how a 30 pound dog with a body like a wood barrel managed to squeeze herself through an opening smaller than the width of my hand.

2. The little shithead can run. I have NEVER seen this dog run in the almost 4 years we have had her. Everyone in my house has tried to make this dog run: me, my husband, the GOOD DOG. And we all get the same reaction. She sits down (or sometimes LAYS down), cocks her head to the side, and stares with this completely baffled expression, like she can't understand what we are doing or why anyone would even WANT to. There are several reasons her nickname is 'Lurch' and that is one of them (another reason is that when she wants to wake me up she will STARE intently at me. If that doesn't work she commences CPR, but you'd be surprised how often the intense stare of intensity haw woken me at 3 a.m., only to discover the dog hovering over me and staring). This morning, as she burst through the front door, flew off the porch, and bounded almost gracefully away you could almost hear the opening chords to Born Free underneath the chorus of my cursing and my husband shouting "No! Come back!" You can tell which one of us is more useful in a crisis. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure she answers to "Shit! Fuck! Damn it!" about as well as she does to her name.

Watching my husband chase our portly, clumsy hell dog through every yard in the neighborhood in his suit and tie and fancy shoes and not being able to catch her was almost funny enough to be worth it. But probably not worth all of the neighbors seeing my in my pajamas, foaming at the mouth from toothpaste.

Yay! And also, I'm beginning to think I need real help.

Soooooooo. Someone, and I'm not naming any names because we're semi-anonymous here (me) (semi anon because I use my real first name and general location, but seriously, Megan is one of the top names for women around my age) got a new job which pays a little more than their (my) old job and also is with an unnamed organization (government) and makes me feel like singing "The Wall". Or at least the parts that someone knows (all in all your just another brick in the wall...if you don't eat your meat you can't have any pudding! How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?) Which mostly makes me sound a little twisted.

Who am I kidding? I am a little twisted. But I tricked someone into paying me more money! HA! Jokes on them.

Of course, the government thing makes me think I better just not talk about work at all (which I rarely do anyway) or partaking of illicit substances (*whistling*) (it was college okay? You are expected to try stupid things in college) (Shut up. Don't judge me)or basically anything that they might find out about and change their minds and then I'll have to come crawling back here except they would offer me even LESS than I get now because I'll be desperate and they know it and holy shit, is there a brown paper bag around here anywhere?

Yes, I even worry about good things that happen to me. Change makes me anxious.

For instance, yesterday I had a total panic attack because I don't know anybody and I'll never find people like the ones I know/love here and what if everyone hates me (note: this has never happened before. People generally like me. No, I have no idea why.) I also had a breakdown over the fact that I'm not trained yet (uh...yes. I'm aware). And I had a complete mini-attack involving scenarios in which they realize I'm horribly unqualified and decide I'm semi-retarded because I'm not learning fast enough and decide to fire me before the probation period is up and then I would get horribly depressed and have to work at Starbucks and I'd never sleep again and I'd also get depressingly fat because I eat my emotions (because I don't like to feel. I think its been established that I have a minor amount of envy for sociopaths and psychopaths) and then my husband would leave me for someone not fat and depressed and then I'd be broke and I'd have to choose between turning tricks on the street and living with my mother again and I'm not entirely sure which one of those things would be worse. Do fat hookers make any money? I don't know.

Misanthropic

When did every one around me get so fucking entitled, y'all?

I swear to God, if it's not the guy cutting in front of me in line at the convenience store (because clearly his need for 5 cigarilloes, a cigar, and rolling papers is immensely more important than my need for gasoline to get to work...also, dude, we all know what you're doing. Which, rock on and all, but your need to wake and bake is not more important than my need to be at work on time in order to get paid in order to continue to live in the lifestyle to which I have chosen to become accustomed. You know, with the groceries and the electricity and the gasoline and the whatnot. Or maybe it is; I don't know. My point is, I was there first asshat)then it's the guy going 75 in his Datsun on the shoulder to cut around EVERY ONE else waiting to get off the interstate because clearly he has important heart surgery to perform or his girlfriend is in labor or something. Every fucking day. Like the rest of us can't possibly have anywhere we would rather be than sitting on the fucking off ramp for no good reason.

Then there's the people I talk to on the phone. I have this conversation routinely,

"I'm sorry, [my supervisor] is out of the office."

"Well, I need to talk to him."

"Would you like his voice mail? Or I can take a message (even though I'm not actually a secretary you entitled douchebag)."

"No, I really need to talk to him right now."

I mean, I'm sorry - or maybe I'm not - but the fact that you want to do a thing RIGHT NOW doesn't actually make it possible for that thing to happen RIGHT NOW. I mean, right? Did I miss the memo where they changed all the rules and wishing now makes things so? Because my check for a million dollars hasn't come in the mail yet, and maybe I need to alert the post office or the president or something. Whoever handles that kind of thing.

Actually, that would be pretty awesome for awhile, but then every one would start having conflicting wishes and then the universe would implode or something.

But seriously, people, we are not really special snowflakes, no matter what our mommies taught us. You are not more important than me, and I'm not more important than that guy over there picking his nose. I would like to believe that I'm more important than him, but I'm not. So can everyone just chill the fuck out, accept the fact that we are all in this together, and that sometimes you have to wait your fucking turn? I mean, shit, they taught us that in kindergarten didn't they?

Please make my life better by following these me-approved rules. Please do not look directly into the wormhole I have created in my own logic. You do not want to fall in there.

Does anyone else remember Small Wonder? Man, I really wanted to be Vicki. Vicki never had to feel emotions and shit.

It's not that life hasn't been interesting; it's that I have no idea how to talk about it.

A couple of months ago I realized my OCD was beginning to seriously impact my life. My mother was seriously ill and I had to abandon routines and schedules in order to go home for a couple of days to take care of her. It occurred to me in the car on the way that I was seriously angry and incredibly anxious. Not because my mom was really sick, but because her sickness was impacting my routines. I tried to convince her that she wasn't actually throwing up every 20 minutes because...that just wasn't going to work for me. I wasn't going to be able to do the things I NEED to do in order to keep my shit together. This was a problem. I've never really had an issue with keeping my issues from seriously impacting my life, but I was definitely heading in that direction. I knew I needed to start practicing the therapy again. Where you basically just don't allow yourself to succumb to your compulsions and wait out the anxiety that brings on. That was a really fun month. The thing about OCD is that you don't cure it, you only control it. Unfortunately, sometimes the things you use to control the OCD become things that need to be controlled. In my case, exercise, eating right, and going to bed at the same time every night help me control the worst of the anxiety. Things that are helping you slowly become things that you are compelled to do, that you can't NOT do. So I had to take some time off.

Later on, fabulous tales of watching movies I pre-hated (Eat, Pray, Love) and an hour long conversation with two women in front of a RedBox Movie Rental machine. One of whom has apparently studied the Bible very, very seriously.

I am Dead Serious. Kroger is Awesome on Valentine's Day

Image courtesy of 7deadlysinners.typepad.com.

Valentine's Day seems to be a require blog topic, so I'll tell you about mine.

Basically, my husband and I shared the most ridiculous, pun filled cards we could find (because that's the best part!) then we split a carton of chocolate covered fortune cookies while rolling our eyes at the fortunes (Never frown because you don't know who might be falling in love with your smile! Someone will love you for your constant support!)Because he's a man and I have the soul of a 13 year old boy.

(Seriously: someone will love you for your constant support. I'm immediately put in mind of serial killers and the women who love them. Also, jock straps, support hose, and really good bras. He's thinking of deadbeat dads with 13 kids by 18 women.)

Then we made VD jokes, and then I went to the grocery store. Where two cashiers almost threw down in front of the 5 customers in the store. I have no idea why. All I know is, one of them must have been pretty condescending to the other. Because she kept screaming, "Do not talk to me like I'm a child! I am NOT a child!"

No, ma'am, you most certainly are not.

I am totally calling this day a success.

I have had way too much time on my hands.

I've been snowed in and haven't been inspired to write anything here. But I just really need to say something, and this seems like the best forum.

Playtex Sport Tampons suck.

1. Does not do what it says on the tin. I ran, I biked, I did yoga. These were not any better than my preferred brand. In fact, these were worse. Do not be sucked in by the hype.

2. They are trying to boss me around. There are weird "inspirational" messages written on the wrappers. Things like "Walk like you mean it". I do not know what that even means. How do you walk like you don't mean it?

3. I am perplexed by how many ways there seem to be to engineer a piece of cotton to make it pretty much exactly the same. Advances HAVE been made in applicator technology, but the newest trend seems to be aimed at improving the tampon itself. Aside from obvious changes like making it smaller or bigger or thinner or fatter I haven't noticed any real success. Also what are these laboratories like?

I have spent 3 days contemplating this.

Please send help.