Tag Archives: monday

Orange Is The New Orphan Black

17 Jun

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…You know those days when you’ve lived about three lifetimes before 10 a.m.?

…All week.

It’s Wednesday.

…I’ve been trying to escape to worse realities than my work-life, by hitting up “Orphan Black” and “Orange Is The New Black” Season 3’s respectively. Episode after episode, like a crack-junkie…complete with falling asleep, waking up to them still playing on my phone at 2 am, rebooting and falling asleep to them  again, because I can’t NOT watch them…even when I’m exhausted.

…I do this and tell myself, “Well, at least you aren’t sleeping on a mattress made of maxi pads…” “At least psycho militant clones aren’t out to harvest your uterus and fallopian tubes…” “At least you don’t make 65 cents a day sewing panties, with a side business flipping inmate-used ones on the internet. ” “At least you haven’t changed wigs five times today, to play other versions of yourself with your actual life depending on not fucking up who is which.”

…It’s so bad, I’ll put it on freeze to eat an egg sandwich over the sink as fast as I can, so I can go back and finish streaming Cosima cutting a scalp off and ripping out the brain, without vomiting all over my couch.

…It’s so bad, the dark shitty life of lock up, makes me laugh like I have an unrealistic bond with murders, and find watching their social politics as intriguing and All-American, as “The West Wing.”

…Anyway, it makes for surreal sleeping patterns, and stream-of-consciousness, at a slight delay of reality.

Case in point: Monday morning, when I pulled in and parked next to a Forensic Van in our sales lot.

…I mean, in the past 12 hours, people had been locked in desert jails, used gnawed off rib bones as keys, folded under the influence of talking scorpions, undergone experimental brain treatments, and got mysterious red-eye diseases that like a week ago would have REALLY freaked me the fuck out. Not to mention: survived face-crushing, and rape, committed multiple homicides, built shanks out of lollipops, brewed alcohol out of prison fruit, and attempted suicide with depression meds.

So what is a Forensic Van compared to that??

…Then I remembered: I don’t have a talking scorpion, genetic freak-mutation, or diseased eye-balls after all…and my street cred doesn’t depend on used underware and Raumen noodle spice packets. A Forensic Van on a Monday is prob’ly a pretty big deal. I mean: when you’re in a consignment industry.

…This did not stop me, however, from climbing the steps over piles of wall-pieces and crap all over the walk, and bracing myself for (hopefully) not a lot of blood.

…The thing being: I was prepared, totally prepared for blood. And possibly a dead body. Or maybe several. And pretty physically self-secure in the fact I could shove any improvised weapon into any body part with a dead-eyed fierceness, impaling without impunity…like they’d stolen my soap to use without asking, and left an errant pube on it. (That shit costs money! Commissary your own, bitches!)

…Like those idiots you scream at in horror movies…I was sucked into my dark fake TV world’s, and totally just kept on walking, as if it was no big deal…side-stepping all the signs pointing to the possibility that it might be. And also, this was “real life.”

…Because here’s the thing: Violence, well written black comedic irony, and Sci-Fi DO deaden your realistic reactions.

Obviously.

…I mean, it wasn’t even 8 a.m., and like some kind of animatronic idiot, I totally just went for it…for whatever I’d find , like those stupid cheerleader/babysitters in every scream-movie ever.

…Which ended (thankfully) at an anticlimax, finding only a robbery.

(…We’ll talk about how a robbery is an anticlimax, some other time.)

…Meanwhile, the Tuesday that followed was so awesomely terrible, even possible-homicide-Monday was better, so Wednesday had to win in the “less shitty” department…and how you know is: no one got arrested or punched in the face.

…Also, today is when I hit the amazing call-to-arms Piper panty monologue, (with heightened musical underscore, which I have dubbed the Henry V battle cry of 2015), and laughed so hard I had to watch it twice in a row, to actually hear it.

…Which quite possibly saved my entire day.

…Which, in context, is pretty tragic actually. But it’s better to laugh till you cry about underware, than accept an office day at face value.

…Also, “Can I go, now that I’ve watered your ego-flower,” is like my new favorite always-phrase. I shall use it constantly, when Corporate returns next week.

…Anyway, in my head.

~D

Bad Ads & Baby Growing

17 Feb

Today is unbearably slow at the office. Rain all weekend left us with shit sales, and all reports done by 9:30.

…I’ve let the Gnome go home even.  No calls for about an hour at least…plus she’s moving today, and quesy.

…The last part is on account of the fact that she is in the first month of currently growing a mini-Gnome in her belly. 

We have much concern for the child, due to practicle purposes of common sense adaptations of it’s mother.  She’s a sweet girl, so affection won’t be an issue, but we do ponder its mental and physical future. The first weeks of pregnancy have been a big enough heads-up to show us that this is sure to be a wild ride of “how comes,” “what if’s” and “why nots” from the Gnome.

…I’ve already lectured on the importance of “going to the doctor,” “eating,” and “getting prenatal vitamins,” because apparently, those things never occured to her. Nor the fact she can’t just pound IB Profin for a headache and twelve kinds of tummy antacids, in lieu of breakfast. After an Urgent Care visit, she’s been forbidden to lift anything, and when I asked her if she was put on “bed rest,” she didn’t know what I meant.  To which I told her, it was exactly like it sounds, and she’d know if she was on it, cuz the Doctor would have told her so, to which she replied, “Well…I guess not, then.”

…I advised her to get an actual note with all her restrictions written on it. “So I can add it to your file.”  And, therefor, actually know them, and inform her of them, as needed.

I also advised her, before letting her go today, NOT to lift anything in the move. 

…This was followed with a pang of realization, directly after she left, that I prob’ly should NOT have let her go early, in order to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself today by doing things she isn’t aware she isn’t supposed to be doing, because she doesn’t “think” before undergoing most of her day-to-day routine and I dunno why that would suddenly change now.  Only I also realize that I can’t babysit her every move for the next nine months, and at some point she is gonna have to either wise up…or not.  On her own.  But then there’s this whole person dependent now on HER “good choices” and outside of about three, I’ve yet to see her really make any, in the six months or whatever, that she has been here.

…For a person with like zero maternal instinct, she is totally stressing me out with worry.  And it’s only week four.

Meanwhile…

…As the office is silent today, I’ve filled the time walking back and forth to the coffee pot for refreshers, and pulling 60’s ads for the the new show trailer I’m working on.  I’m looking for ridiculous faces and clothes, so went straight to the print-ads…where I know the worst offenders reside, and I have been gafawing, (actually out loud), at some of the particularly most horrible, for the past hour.  Since it’s Monday, I’m sure you could use a grin yourself…so am sharing the wealth of a few favorites.

Like:

* The Gran Prix of Circulation…
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* Fashion for the Literary…
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* The Doctor’s most recommended…
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* Plastic: Not JUST for furniture and food anymore…
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* Fuck breath mints!
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* What wives are for…
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* Really…?
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* Um. Wow.
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* For your convenience…
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* Just…what does the photographer even SAY to get this pose?
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And…the winner:

* Thank you, Canada

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Happy Monday, friends 🙂

~D

Rocket-Shipping In The Warehouse

2 Nov

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We are one less Employee in population today, here at the ol’ Brothel.

…The WHS Mgr walked in this morning on enough pot, canned CO2, and empty beer bottles to launch an Apollo mission.  The company truck was missing, the forklift: naked in the yard with the key still in it, the gates wide open, and the only clue to go on, being from his WHS lackey at 10:30 PM last night…calling in “sick” for today.

…And now we know why.

A stellar employee, he never was…this is fact.  But that is to be expected from a grown man still living with his parents, who smelled of alcohol poisoning and organ damage, perpetually…never bathed, and had a penchant for hitting on everything with an “X” chromosome.  Even the AM/PM tellers across the street were creeped out in his presence.

“How did he get the job to begin with then,” you may ask?

Because Boss has a “thing” for “second chances” in life. Because he was cheap. And because he answered the ad.

…In that order.

Sure, he had to pass a drug screen et al upon hire, and he did…though at least two of us (in retrospect), have no idea how. It was obvious to us, within a week, that this guy had “issues”…and grounding him from whipping the forklift and trucks around was about the maximum power that either the WHS Mgr (or I) had in this. 

…Which, then, leaves a fairly useless employee, wandering around, making piles of stuff in the yard, then reorganizing them into new piles, over and over and over again.  Occasionally he would paint, or repair something. Sometimes he would shelve some stuff, but by and large his specialty seemed to be off-the-clock drinking, tweaking out on any number of alternate-controlled substances, showing up two hours late, and stacking things, while bitching.

He will not be missed.

Now…every time a layoff occurs here, there is this whole “procedure” we have to undertake directly afterward. Because anyone who has ever worked here knows every weakness in the system of his place…and they know the hours we keep, that the alarm pads are purely for “show” and that if they want something it takes very little effort to get in here and take it. Not that we have much of any worth, outside of product…which weights a literal shit-ton, but with a forklift and a truck in-hand, this place is easy pickings really…and everyone knows it.

…So, instead of doing his average Friday of usual fix-its, the WHS Mgr has been flying around changing locks and bolts and combos and passwords on everything all morning long. Though we know that these things only work enough to keep an honest person honest, and that any pissed-off, drugged-up, drunken asshole who might want to get in, to say…deface every piece of property we own…could very easily do just that, with only a pair of bolt cutters and a 2 x 4.

…We KNOW this…

…And of all the layoffs, THIS is the one that verily PROMISES a return payment. We totally expect it. We just don’t know exactly what it’ll be, or when, or how.

…Which is sorta terrifying, really.

…So today, we are each of us, boxing up and relocating materials and things so that when (not “if”) the inevitable occurs, the damage might not be so bad. But it probably will. And we’ll have to deal with it. Most likely, on Monday.

…Which it totally great, cuz that’s exactly what we NEED! I often say that, in fact: “Geeze I wish we had more crap-happy calamities on Mondays! I feel there just isn’t enough of that in general, around here!”

~D

Hello Idaho & The “I Quits”

19 Sep

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Boss: “We needed to do something to cut the bottom line…”

…This is maybe the second thing Boss said to me, when he arrived three hours late to work, my first day back from Vacation.

Me: “As in…?”

Boss: “You’re booking Spokane now.  And also, Idaho.”

Me: “So we aren’t doing the Spokane remote office.”

Boss: “Nope.  Oh, and also…the Vancouver Manager quit while you were gone.  So you’ll have to help the new guy figure some stuff out.”

Me: “Can you maybe be a little more specific?”

Boss: “Yeah.  Teach him how to do the job.”

Me: “Remotely.”

Boss: “Right.”

Me: “…While I catch up on the $47,000 in orders you didn’t process while I was gone, plus book all of Eastern Washington and Idaho.”

Boss: “…But I brought you whiskey.”

(He plops it on my desk.)

Me: “…Which is great if I didn’t have like fifty-thousand things to do right now…”

(He cracks it open.)

Me: “Also…it’s not even noon yet…”

(He tosses one back, clean.)

Boss: “I’ll be in my office.”

(He takes the bottle with him.)

…And this is how my Monday went. It just got better from there…the more buzzed he got.

[Around 1 PM]

Boss: (Singing from his office.) “…No I’ll NEVER, EVER, EVER…!”

Me: (From my office.) “Can you maybe not sing so loud? I’m on the phone and things…”

Boss: “…No I’ll NEVER, EVER, EVER…!”

Me: Seriously!

(He chuckles.)

…You guys, it’s taken me three days to stop hating him enough to find the “funny” in this shit, and actually write it down. Also…HE NEEDS to FUCKING LEARN MORE OF THAT SONG’S LYRICS. For three SOLID DAYS, it’s all he’s been hollering. Non-stop.

[Around 3 PM]

Me: “What is it with you and that song…why do you keep yelling that?”

Boss: “I just really identify with it, is all.”

Me: “Cuz you’re a 22 year-old pop-it Country superstar from Nashville?”

Boss: “Yes. And I’m gonna make you a CD of it to remember me by…”

Me: “No.”

Boss: “…Or a mash up, with that one Kelly Clarkson song…”

Me: “–I don’t want it.”

Boss: “Over a House beat.”

Me: “–Go away.”

Boss: “…And I’ll NEVER, EVER, EVER…!”

Me: (Yelling.) “YOU AREN’T EVEN SINGING IT RIGHT!!”

(He stands there in the doorway and grins.)

Me: “What.”

Boss: “…It’s good to have you back, you know?”

Me: “I’m sure it is.”

Boss: “You missed this. Come on. Admit it.”

Me: “I will quit and leave all this work, if you say one more word. I swear to you.”

(He disappears back into his office. At some point, I get up to go pee. When I come back, a shot of whiskey is sitting beside my computer. I think of all the work I’ve done today, and how little I get paid for it, and how he’s getting a bonus that I earn him every month, so he can sit there Facebooking and drinking whiskey all day, while singing pop songs. Badly. I shoot the drink.)

Me: (From my office.) “This doesn’t mean we’re friends, you know.”

Boss: (From his office.) “… … … AND I’LL NEVER, EVER, EVER…!”

…You guys…sometimes, it’s just too much.

~D

Damn Apps & Mosquitos

30 Jul

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My Olympic App has been revised and refreshed three times and it still isn’t working. 

…Since NBC is the only registered network that is allowed to show recaps and footage stateside, (and I don’t have cable), this is really starting to piss me off. 

YouTube postings are all ripped off the web almost as soon as they are put up there.  Only a few have managed to survive, and most of those are Euro country postings recorded with a potato and pixelated all to hell.  I think they are only left up for sheer amusement purposes.  And I think that is sick and wrong.

…All I wanna do is cheer on my country, people!  Things like the Olympics should be free reign to see anywhere at any time, by anyone who wants to…isn’t that kind of the freakin point?!  “Go team world” and all of that?!  Instead it’s been regulated, edited and sold on product lines like the freakin’ Superbowl.  And to top it off, even when you go the “regulated” route, you still can’t watch it, cuz the damn tech doesn’t work!

Way to go geniuses!

…I’d strike all you bastards and your sponsor products if I could!  Only, Coke is delicious! And so are McDonald french fries! But don’t think I haven’t considered it!

To top off these irritations,  a mosquito got caught in my pants the other day and bit me five times on one side.  I just hope the little asshole popped from the binging raid.  I’ve been miserable ever since it happened.

…You can’t scratch through jeans, and lathering up with anti-itch gell isn’t helping, it just makes you walk like you’ve shat a load in your pants. It’s really everything I can do just to make it to a bathroom every ten or fifteen minutes to scratch the hell out of them until they grow to pink welts the size of silver dollars and get hot and start hurting.  Then I cuss at ’em a bunch and lather more anti-itch gell on ’em.  Not scratching is not an option…not when there is that much poison concentrated in one square foot body of area…therefor my leg by day three, looks like it’s contracted the mumps and has more toxins in it than Joan River’s face.

Plus, it’s Monday.  And overcast.  Again.  And I started my show diet.

…Color me surprised that every customer I’ve contacted for the Bunny Ranch bookings today, has been totally incompetent on understanding procedure and prep…sucking time from me like that effing mosquito. Every call has been a twenty-minute frustration…and no I don’t even know how the math works out cuz that would make today something like 320 hours long…which it FEELS like…but they tell me it couldn’t possibly have been.

…Add all these things together and I’m just a regular Mary Sunshine.  You only wish you were around me all day. 

…But it’s almost over now.  I’ll be able to go home, and change back into boxers and scratch my leg until it falls off, if I want.  And I can make my spinach salad and Gollum juice of disgustingness and NOT watch Olympic updates that won’t actually update…and ignore all the stuff that needs doing like sweeping and laundry and all of that.

It’s just been that kind of day.

Fuck it.

~D

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