No I in TEAM (But There is a ME)

Rarely do I ever go to lunch with co-workers and because of this, I’ll never reach the upper echelons here, which is fine. I know some co-workers think I am a freak because I am so anti-lunch and anti-happy hour and I do get a lot of shit from them for not participating in the group lunch/group happy hour thing. The truth of the matter is that the less I know about my co-workers and the less they know about me, the easier it is for me to get along and just do my job. I’m not associated with any work cliques and have no emotional attachments here. I think this freaks people out a lot because, after five years here, I’m still somewhat of a mystery.

What’s interesting is that people confide in me the most inappropriate things regarding other co-workers. I really don’t need to know which married co-workers are cheating on their spouses with each other. I really don’t need to know what these co-workers do on the tables in the conference rooms after hours. Gross. The thought of any of my co-workers naked makes me feel really ill. And I really don’t need to hear about co-workers struggling with drug/alcohol addictions and that their “medical leave” is really code for rehab.

I think people confide in me because they don’t see me talking to anyone and they figure I’m safe. I guess I am safe, to a degree, because I don’t feel compelled to spread the gossip. I just let it go and pretend like I never heard it. There have been a few occasions when I’ve been at lunch with co-workers and I’ve gotten up and left when they get to trashing people who aren’t there. I don’t make a big production of my leaving, but instead I just say something lame like I forgot I have a 2:00 meeting and then I go. And as I am walking away, I can feel my ears burning because, now that I’ve left the table, it’s time to pick me apart.

It’s funny how even if you don’t engage in the office gossip mill you will eventually find yourself in it. Every time I get a phone call at my desk, people stop typing because they want to listen to what I’m saying. I do lead an “alternative lifestyle” after all, so I must have some seriously crazy, kinky stories that I’d like everyone in Flat Front Khaki-land to overhear. When I do get that occasional personal phone call at my desk, I am so tempted to say words like dildo, strap-on, fisting, butt plug, and melissa etheridge just to get a reaction.

Oh, and I have heard some interesting rumors about myself like I used to be married to a man before I “became” gay. The most recent rumor was that someone in our accounting department was fired for a conversation she supposedly had with me regarding salaries and bonuses of other co-workers. What??? How do you defend yourself in a situation like this? The only thing that made that situation better was when a new piece of juicy gossip spread around the office about someone’s inability to conceive a child because her husband’s first wife made him get a vasectomy. Suddenly everyone forgot about me.

So today is Wear Your Slippers to Work Day at the office. There is no prize for the wackiest pair of slippers because, as we learned yesterday, “comfort will be our reward.” And to celebrate Wear Your Slippers to Work Day, I have to attend a group lunch in one of the conference rooms (and eat off of one of those aforementioned tables) with my team. Fantastic. I wonder what they’ll say about me after I leave the room when they notice I’m wearing regular shoes to work.

I’m not surprised. She’s never been a team player.

Did you know she’s a lesbian?

Oh yeah! And remember when she started working here her hair was long?

Yeah, and it’s gotten shorter and shorter over the years.

I heard she used to be married to a man. That’s probably why her hair used to be long when she first started.

*sigh*

Whatever.

I’m just going to casually walk away from them in my regular shoes and mumble dildostraponfistingbuttplugmelissaetheridgefarmersmarketsoy.

Ooops! My phone is ringing. Gotta go.

DILDO.

Kinda Feelin’ Sorta Better

Chronic back pain has a funny way of making me regress to my childhood, complete with temper tantrums, crankiness, irritation, and generalized surliness. Here’s a picture of Lady Friend holding the 6 month-old version of me last night during dinner.

Okay, so the picture wasn’t taken last night, but that really is me and it was actually taken sometime in the early 1970s with my mom. I guess I’ve changed a bit since then, but I still have that look on my face. And I still need a snack and a nap.

Read me a story?

Gorey Monday

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I can always depend on an Edward Gorey sketch to describe just how I’m feeling. This sketch is from The Disrespectful Summons. I seem to have re-aggravated my back injury and I’ve been in my house since Thursday. Yesterday was a particularly bad day, hence the above selection.

Pumps and Grills

Prostitutes aside, my block has become very quiet in the last couple of weeks.

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The grilling and cookouts started Memorial Day weekend and the last weekend-long cookout was Labor Day weekend. Shortly after Labor Day, Mr. Brown was out front cleaning his grill with over cleaner and removing the propane tank. My neighbors on the other side cleaned and covered their massive gas grill too, so now all the grills on my block have been cleaned and covered, except mine. I’m the first new neighbor that my neighbors have had in 27 years and I’m still learning the unspoken rules of the block. I’m wondering if grilling after Labor Day is equivalent to wearing white shoes after Labor Day.

As much as I’ve bitched about the noise all spring and summer, it feels a little strange to round the corner after work and not see anyone sitting on their stoops drinking Bud Ice. I always got a rowdy welcome home from Mr. Brown and the other elderly fellas, along with an occasional offer to sit and have a beer. Sometimes Cripple Mike would serenade me as I pulled up to the curb and then gimp over to open my car door for me all because I didn’t mind him sitting on my stoop all day.

It’s funny because none of the elderly fellas know my real name, even though I’ve told them what it is over and over. I’m just Sugar Baby and Baby Girl. Mr. Brown calls me Andi, which is strange because it’s not my name, but I don’t even bother telling him my real name anymore. Sometimes he struggles to get it right and calls me two or three other names before he finally gets to Andi. Skeeter, who I believe really does know my name, gave Mr. Brown shit one day after I told Mr. Brown (again) that my name isn’t Andi. Skeeter mumbled to Mr. Brown, “There you go again thinking all white people look alike.” It was hilarious, but I guess you had to be there.

So I’m going to take my chances and cook on the grill tonight. I don’t know if this is goes against my block’s etiquette, but I’ll be sure to remove my white pumps before I fire up that sumbitch.

Head Full of Climbing Mercury

You battle your mean spirit,
I’m suffering through my own.

Kristin Hersh
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I was so happy Saturday when the mail arrived and I finally got the official bootleg of the 8/11/06 Throwing Muses show! It’s one of the two Throwing Muses shows we saw that weekend. Thankfully, the daisy-cutter fart bomb smell was not included with the cd.

Of course, this probably matters to no one but , but this bootleg is worth getting if only for the songs Furious, Colder, and Soul Soldier. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the head and am floating in a blissful daze. Believe me, this is saying something when you consider I’m currently in my corporate-gray cubicle getting book-ended by miserable co-workers. Not even they can bring me down today with all of their heavy sighing and discomfort brought on by ill-fitting khakis. If my iPod doesn’t crap its pants again and quit on me, I think it’s going to be a good day.

Wig out on me,
I don’t mind,
I swear by now
I almost like it.

ThankYouGoodnight!

I’m finally out of my hours-long staff meeting and my presentation is done! I never get used to doing presentations. I have such a down-low, behind-the-scenes position at my company that my phone never rings and I hardly have any human interaction, which is nice. So, for me, getting asked to do a presentation is not unlike that feeling you get when you walk out of a movie theater and it’s still bright and sunny outside. Are they real? What size are they? Does she ever get cold?

Yes, these free-range cans are 100% U.S. Grade A real. And yes, I do get cold because of the bitter winds whipping through my black, cavernous heart, but thanks to the wonders of Sticky Vicki’s Victoria’s Secret engineering, you can’t tell. I’m actually freezing as I type this and you didn’t even notice, did you? It’s amazing, isn’t it?

Who Needs Ambien?

I have to give a presentation in front of my entire company tomorrow. At least I got a two-day heads up this time around. I really do not enjoy having to stand in front of my co-workers and drone on about the wonders of single-sourcing, the shittiness of proprietary tags, the dizzying excitement of direct HTML to XHTML conversion of legacy documents, and the joys of clean, compliant, portable content maintained in pure XML. Don’t you wish you could be here? I didn’t think so.

I wish I could run myself through the W3C validator to figure out what’s wrong with me.

Validate Your Issues Markup by URL: http://angerhangover.livejournal.com/

No PULSE DOCTYPE Declaration Found!

Wednesday Inspiration

Purple Pain = Ravens 27, Bucs 0

Back late last night from our trip to Tampa/St. Pete. For all of you camo-haters out there - you should be ashamed of yourselves. I proudly wore my purple camo hat deep in Bucs territory and look what happened - a Ravens win! Perhaps if the Bucs had their own version of the camo hat, their luck would have been different.

All you Ravens fans should be very, very proud. So many people represented them Crows down there in Tampa Gay. The flights there and back were so rowdy and people were even doing all of the game day chants during both flights. Lady Friend and I stayed on St. Pete Beach and Saturday morning we ventured to a little Waffle House down the road. I had on my game day visor and some woman yelled across the dining room, “You here for the game? We are too. So are they!!” So much Purple Pride everywhere.

I’ve had a few people ask me if Lady Friend and I have broken up because of the thrashing B’more gave Tampa. The answer is NO! Let’s not forget, the Bucs whipped our asses 25-0 at home the last time we played. LF is still a tried and true Bucs fan, although I did catch her gazing longingly at my purple camo hat when she thought I wasn’t looking. I let her have that little moment.

I have to say, Bucs fans were very cool before and after the ass wuppin’. There are always a few exceptions, of course, but they were few and far between. Lady Friend spotted an RV parked near us in the lot and it had a sheet hanging off the side that said “Ravins Suck!!” LF said, “Bless their hearts, they tried to get it right.”

Hooked on Phonics doesn’t work for everyone.

Anyway.

MyFutureBabyDaddy, a.k.a. #86 Todd Heap, had a great game. I think I felt myself swoon several times.

It’s good to be back in Charm Harm City. And it’s even better now that football season is officially here.

Purple Pain, Purple Pain.

Move Those Chains!!!

Lady Friend and I will be heading down to Tampa Gay tonight for the Ravens/Suckaneers game on Sunday. Lady Friend grew up in Tampa Gay/St. Pete and has the terrible misfortune of being a Suckaneers fan. I can overlook this character flaw only because LF is one sexy bitch.

I will be rocking the Ravens gear and representing Bodymore, Murdaland in the stadium parking lot and in the stands. Y’all Suckanneer fans betta recognize. I’ll have on MyBabyDaddy’s jersey, #86 Todd Heap. A 6′5″ TE at 252 lbs? Mercy! He could make a girl like me reconsider her options. Mmm, mmm, MMM!!

Last night, I had an impromptu photo shoot with my Ravens game day ensemble.

Ladies, they now make Heap jerseys in the Lady’s Cut version. Say goodbye to tent-like jerseys. This Lady’s Cut jersey is a regular jersey, but with a tighter fit through the middle and a shortened length. Translation - You can wear a real jersey and show off your tits, waist, and ass without compromising on jersey material or team colors (I hate when chicks wear pink NFL and MLB gear).

You’ll see that I am a total chick in some ways in that I have two hat options. I just can’t decide! I’ve also got my game day beads and my game day koozie, which fits bottles or cans. These items are sacred to me and they only see the light of day for 16 weeks a year (unless we make it to the playoffs). I will be wearing this ensemble on the flight tonight. Oh yes. It’s time to regulate and MOVE THOSE CHAINS!!