Going through some older things I wrote back when we lived in Phoenix sans child (i.e., sans responsibilities) I found this funny entry.
I thought it was funny, anyway.
It was 2004 or 2005, so not like a century ago or anything but a lifetime mentally. I’m including it here, uncensored…unedited. Just remember, I thought I was hardcore back then so I laced the F-word through the threads of my language as if I had something to prove; as if words were the meaning of that something. Okay, I still do, but not in writing…for the most part. Excuse moi.
christmas at the office
so i work for a shipping company and we are so busy right now. not that anyone would want to hear about my crappy job, it’s pretty dull if you’re not in it, but i’m so fucking in it that i can hardly stand it and you’re totally about to hear about it (enough inappropriate prepostions for you?). this is the busiest time of year, by far, and i’m tired. only one more day until it’s all over and i can finally relax and have a lovely holiday w/my lovely asshole, i mean, husband (this isn’t the standard sentiment, i swear).
we shipped our family’s gifts today, which should deliver tomorrow. yes, we waited until the l a s t possible minute and i have every confidence our things will deliver. maybe not by 10:30, but certainly tomorrow, despite all the calls i take all day declaring we didn’t do just that for them. i’m like a professional doormat.
outside of the customers, though, there’s an interesting dynamic in my office worthy of discussion. today, for instance, our managers were randomly giving out gifts. i won this brass picture frame shaped like a school house that had 12 slots for pictures from each grade. my first thought was that i’d never be able to gather together that many pictures of myself, and surely, hopefully, i’d permenantly destroyed my 7th grade picture – the one w/flybacks when they were so not cool and old lady glasses my mother helped me pick out w/the pink tint in the lense. the frame wasn’t for pictures of myself, though, i was told it was for my “first born” and i should put it in my hope chest because it was so me. how it was me, i have no idea, since i thought it was hideous, but whatever. that’s not the point. i convinced this dude who just had a kid to trade me for the insense he got. he was like, “my wife’s allergic to all kinds of smells, anyway.” and i was all, “whatever that means”. are folks allergic to smells? she probably got nauseous easily while she was pregnant not long ago and he’s still confused. one of my other co-workers got a flashlight; she tried to trade w/me but i wasn’t having it, knowing i could do better.
we’re so busy that everyone’s all stressed out so “management” is working really hard to keep the morale up way sky high. it’s working, i guess, because no one’s killed anyone else yet and the gossip is at a strange low. we’re obviously just the right amount of busy because we’re what they call banding together and internal issues are not an issue. every day there’s a little something to look forward to, on top of the thrill of seeing what everyone else wears for “vest day” or “crazy sock day” so we can wear jeans instead of stuffy old slacks and skirts. the santa hats were out of hand on “hat day” and i swear to fucking christ if there’s another “christmas attire” day, i’m going to have to call someone a tool straight to their face. i’ll do it. okay, no i won’t, but i’ll think it.
david’s trying to get weed as we speak, so i’m sure it’ll all be forgotten in no time. in time for tomorrow, hopefully. absofuckinglutely.
[Get it? Absolutely positively…get it? Oh, nevermind.]