Re-reading that sentence, and my poor grammar, made me think of Clue (one of my favorite movies of all time. Jesse Trivia Point numero ichi)

Ms. White: He was deranged! He had threatened to kill me in public.

Ms. Scarlet: Why would he want to kill you in public?

Wadsworth: I think she meant: He threatened, in public, to kill her.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree.

Don’t ask me why I just typed that. I simply Do Not Know.

What? Oh right. Clue.

I love clue, people. I could watch it every day of my life and be perfectly content. One plus two plus two plus one. Communism is just a red herring. Let us in let us in! LET US OUT! LET US OUT!!!

Heee…lettuce.

I just now realized that I thought of Kubla Khan because of Madeline Khan, who played Ms.White in Clue.

My life revolves around six degrees and bacon. But not Kevin Bacon…just bacon.

Work right now? No thank you.

Brain? On a milk carton somewhere.

So, while reading my comments from my last post, I skimmed through the actual entry and The Giver popped out at me. It’s been about two years since I’ve read it. I’ve read it about six times (I do this with books. Books are like Clue. They don’t get old.) and I thought “I should read that again, I enjoyed that book”

Since I don’t have the book with me at work (and that would be a little TOO blatant, even for me) I looked it up on Wikipedia.

Apparently, it has been listed and referred to as “science fiction,” because people have been “genetically altered” and there’s “telepathy”

Now…I suppose all this is true. I guess it could be considered Science Fiction…but…I don’t know. That just doesn’t seem right to me. I never thought of the transferring of memories to be telepathy…I didn’t think the people were really genetically altered. The argument was because the people in the village couldn’t see color, but Jonas could.

I guess, the way I interpreted it, I didn’t really think that people were color blind, just that color didn’t matter so much. As for the telepathy…I understand that I can’t put my hand on you and make you ‘remember’ sledding down a hill and grossly breaking your leg…but the nature of it just didn’t strike me as THAT fantastical.

Maybe I’m over analyzing. Maybe it really is just a simple science fiction tale. Damn you Lois Lowry! How dare you confuse me?!?

Ahem.

So, made it to work today a whole FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLY! Go me!

…I may or may not have spent my first forty five minutes here talking to The Receptionist, and forgetting that I had to pee.

We may have also made fun of Ewam a lot.

I know I know I KNOW it’s shallow and petty…but he’s just such an easy target. What, with that dangly earring, bad hair, and ridiculously huge jacket with the fur lined hood.

I’m so way cuter.

And smarter.

A quote, from an email he sent to the full staff  earlier today:

“You will now find each hospital has a folder and inside of it is all the years (like 2005, 2006, 2007, and so on) and inside those you will find the months and then the days, very easy… If you have questions please feel free to ask me and I will answer as best I can…”

 Um…ok.

1.)     Do we not know what years are? Hmmmm?

2.)     Do you not like punctuation? Hmmmm?

3.)     Why do I keep going hmmmm?

4.)     I blame you.

5.)     Do you realize the entire email could have been shortened to “I’ve filed the ____ by date?”?

6.)     Take out the dangly earring.

Since I feel like being mean, and petty, and shallow, here are a few more examples of why I never should have dated him:

I wanted to get some of my CDs from his car, after we broke up. His work emailed response:

“No offense but your not going in my car, and I do not have all of my CD’s here meaning they are not in my car and they are not at my place I have stored everything I could so I will need to drive to Dorr just to get a couple CD’s because you did not plan ahead is not my problem, I’m sorry. I will get you the CD’s but I will not be able to get them until sometime next week, I am really sorry but if you would have told me sooner this could have been avoided. I wish there was something I could do sooner…”

I…can’t even begin. If you don’t find this as funny as it truly is, try reading it out loud with the given punctuation.

Here’s another one. He offered to take me out to dinner (which I did end up doing…out of pity) we were trying to figure out where to go:

“Well here is an idea; we can drive together or meet at one of the two places, or we can go home change and meet at one of our places and go from there, or we can drive separately to the Hop Cat and if we don’t like it we can drive separate to the Black Rose….”

I would first like to point out…that was not an idea, that is every possible option. Succinct. Oh, and please note…the Hope Cat and the Black Rose are only two blocks away from each other. We would not have to drive. Let alone separately.

This last one…whoo boy. Ok, so. He had asked me if I was having a good Friday. I responded with “eh, it’s alright. It would better if I wasn’t dragging from my rampant insomnia…”

This was his reply. And this? This…is NOT a fucking joke:

“THAT BITES SORRY… I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL, LOTS OF ORANGE JUCIE TO KEEP UP THE IMMUNE SYSTEM, YOU DON’T WANT TO COME DOWN WITH THE FLUE…. ANYHOO, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF….”

…seriously. Not a joke. All of these have been directly copied and pasted from my email. The Receptionist can vouch for me.

Come down with the “flue”? I’m pretty sure you don’t come down with the flue. I’m pretty sure you open the flue, when you have a fire, so all the smoke doesn’t get trapped in your house.

….Ewam just emailed me about what I’m doing for lunch.

The Receptionist will appreciate this post. Two main reasons:

1.)     She has received all of these quotations previously. As soon as EWAM says something stupid, I immediately forward it to her.

2.)     I have mentioned her in this blog, and that makes her happy.

And now I’m gonna go eat.

That didn’t work.

The overtime, I mean.

So far today:

12:00am: cuddling with Speedle, watching The Office

12:37am: still cuddling. Still watching.

12:42am: my cat decides to leap from the coffee table to the love seat. He miscalculated the amount of force and the amount of traction his little padded feet have on the coffee table (which is Not Much) and manages to make a retarded little upside down parabola trajectory, resulting in him only traveling approximately one foot up, six inches left, and three feet down to the ground. He was aiming for three feet left.

12:43am-12:49: laughing at my cat

1:04am: Speedle is begging me to watch one more episode. I convince him that we should smoke a cigarette first.

1:06am: decide I can’t smoke anymore of said cigarette. Too tired.

1:08am: head upstairs and take a sleep aid. (not the addictive kind…Midnite PM baby)

1:10am: Ask Speedle if he’s still awake. He responds with “snore”

1:20am: close my eyes, but I can still see the room

Some time before two: sleep

6:30am: wake up to phone going “deet dee deet dee deed a dad a!!!!”

6:32am: attempt to get out of bed. Realize how freezing the room is. Get back in bed. Promptly fall asleep again. Dream about bleeding profusely from my eyes, ears, and nose, then vomiting up blood. I decide to just get in the bathtub so I don’t get things bloody and wait for EMS to arrive.

8:30am: get up and get ready

9:18am: realize that I’m about to pass my exit on the highway. Speed up past truck. Realize it’s too late to cross three lanes of traffic. Consider doing it anyway. Envision multiple explosions and charred bodies, but walking away from the wreckage looking all sexy and roughed up. Realize that would not happen and I would surely die, for I am not as cool as Kiefer Sutherland/Jack Bauer. Decided to take the next exit.

9:21am: back on track

9:28am: punch in.

9:30am: attend brief “party” for the president of the company. He does not attend.

9:32am: party ends

1:50pm: get call from Speedle:

Speedle: y’know the English guy in the philosophers’ garden?

Self: um, yes?

Speedle: what’s the best prize to get from him when you beat him?

Self: um…whatever you want? Isn’t there one for mind, body, and spirit, respectively?

Speedle: yeah…or his gun.

Self: so….

Speedle: how much of a boost is it?

Self: …I don’t know…

Speedle: K. That was all. Love you! Bye! *click*

Self: …

(if you have not noticed, we like videogames)

And that’s where I’m at so far.

In non work related news, I believe my body is either evolving, or trying to destroy me. It no longer needs food. Ever.

Monday, I ate a sandwich. One. From McDonald’s.

Tuesday, I ate a gas station sandwich, and three bites of a burger.

Today, I’ve had some cheez-its.

Sometimes I feel hunger, but that’s just lies and trickery. Once I start eating I feel full.

On the drive to work, I was listening to the radio, and became quite disturbed. You see, the hosts of the show were having people call in and tell them their “how I lost my virginity” stories. Now, I know there are some funny stories out there…but most of these were just…well, disturbing. For instance, “I was seventeen, and it was to my girlfriend at the time. Her mom caught us and ended up joining in…it was the greatest day of my life.”

Um, ew.

That’s taking the term MILF a little too far…in my eyes.

Others included:

“I was sixteen, and it was in the back of my car…she said she didn’t have enough room, and ended up taking her leg off. I had no idea she was an amputee!…but I hit that anyway”

(this was a straight girl) “I was in the gay part of Chicago, and I went home with a bartender. He ended up opening the bedside drawer and popping out some beads…then he popped in some beads. I lost multiple kinds of virginity that night.”

“yeah…on the bus to see the pope…behind two priests.”

Gross.

Me? Meh, in the back of a car in my highschool parking lot. Pretty cliché, I think.

No, it was not prom night.

This post is mostly pointless…but I needed a break from work.

3:23pm

Still at work people. Working hard.

The funny thing about me and work is…I manage to get what is considered “a lot” done in very little time. The people that preceded me in this position clearly did not know how to use things like “spreadsheets” and “multi-tasking.” This causes me to get, what was considered, a day’s worth of work done in half the time.

Now, I’m not a bad worker, mind you. But I like being able to take my time and relax…so I only spend about three quarters of my day working hard…so that I still have free time and what not.

And if I’m really going to do overtime, I need enough work to last me.

And! I get to write to all you lovely people.

All three of you.

And since I have nothing substantial to write about, I’m going to tell you a story of my childhood.

My dad always loved Calvin and Hobbes. In fact, he acted a lot like the dad from the comics. He would frequently make me do things that I didn’t like, insisting that it built character. He would tell me lies like “see how when you hold up this quarter, you can block out the sun? that’s because the sun is actually smaller than a quarter, but incredibly bright!”

So, one day, he kneeled down to my level (because that’s less threatening) and said “Jesse, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I pondered the question for two seconds and responded happily with “a pilot! I want to fly!”

“but…what if the plane crashes and you die?”

“um…I don’t want to be a pilot anymore…”

“well, then what?”

Again, I pondered the question. I thought about the mailman, and how he was always nice to me, and how he would talk to me if I happened to be playing in the yard. (side note: he WAS asian…I LOOK asian…he’s the only mailman I could remember until we moved. He might be my real father.) I liked this man well enough that I decided, “I want to be a mailman!”

“Well son, what if you’re out doing your route, and you’re just walking down the street…enjoying the nice sunny day, and you look up at the clouds….and a plane falls on you?”

I stared at him, biting my lip…my eyes welled with tears as I realized that, any profession that I would choose that involved being outside…meant that a plane could fall on me. In fact, going outside period could easily equal death by plane. I chose not to respond to him, and I didn’t want him to see me cry so I RAN AWAY QUICKLY TO MY SAFE SAFE ROOM!

I didn’t end up crying, but decided I needed to find a way to stop planes from smooshing me.

This involved (for about one week) me not going outside unless I had an umbrella, helmet, bucket, or other sturdy object above my skull.

In my seven year old mind, I’m sure I thought I was a genius.

My mom, oddly enough, had no idea why I wanted head protection at all outdoor times…but did not question it whatsoever. I think I was a weird enough kid. It surely wasn’t the oddest thing I ever did…maybe the oddest reasoning, but…not the strangest thing.

I’m still very alert when planes fly overhead. Kind of like the Gabriel in The Giver…but I don’t think he realized planes were capable of smooshing him. Just that they were bad.

Beware people…planes can make you smooshy.

So…big problem.

Monstrous problem.

So huge, i might be freaking out right now.

I just got put on overtime.

Now now, I know that’s not the worst thing ever…but you don’t understand. Overtime doesn’t mean i get to stay later in the day…it means i have to come in earlier. Do you know what that is? Cruelty. Cruelty to me.

Do you want to know why this is particularly bad for me?

My typical schedule is 9:30am – 6:00pm

Let us review my past few days of work:

(a coworker actually just came up to me and asked me if i had printed some charts. I printed those hours ago. Fuck time.)

Thursday: 9:33am to 6:00pm

Friday: –:–am to –:–pm (I thought about coming in…decided not to.)

Saturday: …I have never worked a saturday here. Ever. This will change this week. kill me now.

Monday: 1:00pm to 6:00pm (…i’m not very good at the waking up thing.)

Today: 9:38am to [what will be] 6:00pm.

Clearly…overtime will kill me.

Fuck overtime.

Fuck time.

Fuck waking up.

…sigh.