Apologies to the masses who were looking forward to yesterday's recrap of The Hills (and by "the masses," I clearly mean Sabrina from Toronto.) Every now and then my real-person job has to take priority over the blog. Oddly responsible and out of character, I know. Here's the long and short of Monday night's episode: Brody banged Audrina; Lauren is still boring and Spencer is trying to find Jesus. 'Stache already found him years ago, so that should help.
I have to explain what just happened to me at work. Because writing about how painfully awkward and unfortunate I am makes it easier to habitat my person. All day. Everyday.
Russell the Co-Worker had a sales meeting this morning with some people from the Pentagon. Russell decided to shoot the shit with said various Pentagon officials directly in front of my desk before starting their studio tour. I hate when he does this. Because it puts a lot of pressure on me to stop g-chatting and googling "pugs in cute outfits" and actually do my job.
Normally this whole shit-shooting session lasts about five minutes. Sure, I'm temporarily irritated but I get to go on with my day, no fuss, no muss. Today's shit-shooting session, however, went horribly, horribly wrong. It was like some Lemony Snicket shit; unfortunate event after unfortunate event...and none of them made me look very cute.
First of all, I really had to re-adjust my boobs. I don't know what to tell you about that. The bra I'm wearing today is highly uncomfortable and when you've got giant hooters, sometimes you just gotta resituate 'em. However resituating is considerably difficult when you have Pentagon officials staring at you waiting for you to piss your pants laughing because "it feels like a Wednesday, huh?" HAHAHA LOLZ IT DOES! WE ALL HATE OUR JOBS AND IT'S FUNNY! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING WITH MY LIFE LOLZ! SOMETIMES I CRY LATE AT NIGHT!! LMAO!!!!1
My uncomfortableness increased when I became aware of a bug bite on the top of my left foot. That sick son of a bitch itched like I have never felt from a bug bite before. Not wanting to reach under my desk and make a rapid jerking/scratching motion, I decided to be stealthy and use my right heel to do the scratchin'. Which worked out quite well. I felt better and returned my attention to figuring out how I could squirm at just the right angle to fix my jugs-conundrum.
Then, I sneezed. There's really no classy way to say this, but I sneezed an ample amount of snot directly into my hands. Sorry, I'm only human. A human with allergies. So I was in this horrible situation where I couldn't take my hands away from my face or else Pentagon guys would probably lose their complimentary cheese danish, but really need to fix this situation. I didn't know what to do. I just kind of awkwardly sat there for a few seconds covering my face being like, "it is far too early in the morning for me to figure out how I remedy this highly complicated situation." I finally came to the conclusion that I needed a tissue; the nearest box being in the swatch library behind me. But damnit—how to open the door handle with my hands otherwise preoccupied?! I decided the classiest way would be with my ass. And you're welcome, Pentagon officials. If it weren't for the snot, I bet it would slightly hotter.
Once in the library, I blew my nose, fixed my jugs and was feeling 100% better. I opened the door (again using my ass, because frankly it felt kind of cool the first time) and walked out of the library feeling composed, until I slipped on something. I looked down and thought "Hm, I don't remember tracking in any mud?" But it was not mud. It was blood. There was a trail of blood leading from under my desk and into the library. There was a genuine moment of panic when I thought to myself, "Holy shit...did I kill someone? Was that fantasy about shanking the man who bumped into me without saying 'excuse me' on the metro this morning not a fantasy at all, but rather reality?" Thankfully (or not-so-thankfully,) I looked down and realized that my left foot was bleeding profusely, filling my newly purchased and expensive shoes with blood. Damn you bug bite! Damn you pointy heel! Damn you decision to scratch said bug bite with said pointy heel!
So, I had to figure out a way to clean the pool of blood surrounding my desk without Russell or the Pentagon people being any the wiser. This is especially terrible timing as yesterday my co-workers approached me about how they think I'm mysterious and aloof. I guess a pool of blood surrounding my desk leading into the library miiiight not make me seem any more approachable?
I had to clean up the blood before the studio tour started. Because there was no time to go back to the library and get tissues, I busted out a Macgyver move and used 235,259 post-it notes and a bottle of Deer Park water to clean it up. If our cleaning people find the pile of bloody post-it notes in my trash, I will in no way judge them for calling the authorities. I probably deserve as much.
I believe it was when I was going for that last hard-to-reach splash of blood underneath my desk with a hot-pink post-it note that Russel the Co-Worker, looming over me asked, "Girl, what in the hell are you doing down there?" "It's not what it looks like?" was my only answer. He paused, shrugged and then stepped over me to start his studio tour.
So to answer your earlier hilarious question Pentagon guy, yes. Yes it truly does feel like a Wednesday.
4.29.2009
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19 comments:
HAHA, holy crap, I just almost did a snot rocket all over myself while reading that. But the larger question (which may or may not beg a separate post from you) is: why the frig did your co-workers approach you about being mysterious and aloof? Even if you ARE standoffish (and why wouldn't you be - that's part of the magic of being in a job that's far, far below you simply because you don't have two decades of experience and the undereye bags to show for it) - who CONFRONTS someone over it? I got that at one of my old jobs, and since I was quitting that week anyway, I just said to my boss, "Well, you don't pay me enough and the stuff you ask me to do is so menial that I can't force myself to care about it."
lol! I hate the boob readjustment. I do it at least once a day and I'm the only girl in a cubicle surrounded by men. It's awkward!
I once had co-workers at on old job ask if I was a conservative Christian because I didn't use excessive profanity at work or enjoy listening to the details of my thiry-something boss's sexcapades with teenagers... I've often wondered why this made me the awkward one.
Well, my boss called my cell phone and got my voicemail in which I refer to myself as Meg. So in our team meeting yesterday, she asked me if I call myself Meg, which I said I do. Then this opened a whole can of worms about how "they feel like they don't know me" and I'm so "mysterious" and "when did I dye my hair black?!"
I actually might write about this tomorrow. It was a slightly mortifying conversation.
fantastic story + awful = fantastically awful. great laugh.
And, having large, pornographic boobs sucks. I commiserate.
so funny! i got a similar memo after my boss heard my voicemail as becky. for some reason it was really perplexing that i'm not the same person in and out of work. she should count her lucky stars.
This was absolutely hysterical. Working in a cube, I related to everything except for the blood. Because, ew.
Yea it was gross. I'm not trying to play it any other way.
LMAO! Sorry...
once (quite recently, actually), this James McAvoy doppelganger and I were going at it like horny teenagers when he straight up asked me, practically mid-motorboat, if I disliked having an overly large chest. it was probably the sexiest thing he could have said besides, 'I don't want to floss with your pubic hair, thanks.'
that was probably way too much information and not even completely relevant, but it's my way of saying, hell yeah double Ds are a pain in the ass.
HAH! I love that story.
As always, your posts make snarf on whatever I happen to be eating or drinking at the moment! Fortunately I've learned to control myself or else my roommate would be soaked in Mountain Dew right about now.
Wanted to share this site with you- though you may already know about it- it's good for a lot of those "do people like this REALLY exist?" head shaking moments-
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/
I can't relate to the large boob problem, being that I'm a dude, but it is equally as awkward when guys are having a "odd-ball" day.
No one wants to see a guy adjust his nuts.
At least everyone else gets to enjoy a good boob adjustment.
Just sayin.
That's an amazing episode. Kind of reminds me of the time I got blood taken at a doctor's appt during work and then came back to the office like I was hot shit because "needles don't scare me, bitch" only to realize an hour later in a Client meeting that the wound had not been properly plugged up and my white sleeve was soaked with blood. Pretty sure it's now a definite fact that my colleagues think I'm a cutter.
martina from toronto also looking forward to recrap tuesdays. jus sayin.
you are always talking about your massive boobs. Please post a picture of yourself, preferably one accentuating the massiveness of your boobs. Thanks.
If I post a picture of me and huge jugs, this shit won't be anonymous anymore.
When I don't have to worry about losing my day job, I promise I will post a scandalous picture of me and my huge, huge jugs. And that day will be the best day of both of our lives.
Ok Meg, let's see them boobs. It is time.
Hi,
I begin on internet with a directory
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