Monday, November 28, 2005

Censorship, Oppression, and Communism

I got scolded at lunch today. There have been plenty of lunches when I've deserved a scolding, like the time I blew a bunch of money on shoes and jeans that I didn't need all within 30 minutes because I had PMS, or the time I drank about a gallon of Bud Light within 2 hours, or the time I had to nap in an empty office because I had a raging hangover. Today, however, I had done nothing wrong, unless the First Amendment has been revoked in the last few days. I haven't been reading the paper, so it could've happened without me knowing.

If you are offended by any words that would not be said during a Catholic mass, please do not continue. If you are offended by words that aren't said on network television, you might be okay, but hey... better safe than sorry. Go read Garfield or something, douchebag.

Josh disapproved of my use of the f-bomb in a post about Maggie and Brownie. I was trying to espress Maggie's extreme disapproval of other dogs that try to take her ball when she's playing fetch. Josh tells me that I could say "mess with" instead of "fudge with", but I think it loses its power. There's something about the f-bomb that really conveys what other words cannot. Alas, the power of that word has been stripped from me by my oppressive husband. What's next? What else can he take from me? Am I going to have to give up my job? Quit reading? Start cooking? Start having babies? Whatever Josh wants, I suppose. He IS the man of the house and just wants a respectable wife he can parade around town.

His original justification is that little kids might be reading this. WTF? Oh, I should ask him if "WTF" is okay. While it doesn't actually USE the f-bomb, most people know what it stands for. I wouldn't want to be responsible for some innocent person thinking the f word. The thought police could be listening. Anyway, WTF would some little kid be doing reading this? For one thing, they can find much worse things by misspelling "". MUCH worse. And it's not like I'm passing out this address to elementary school kids. I'm sure Steve and Amy go home and read this to Jack and Luke. Seriously, Josh.

I suppose there are some people out there that may be shocked at my nasty habits and filthy language, but again, if you don't know me well enough to already know that shit (I can say "shit" if I want. Josh said as long as they've said it on network TV, I'm okay. They said "shit" on NYPD Blue. I only know that because South Park did a spoof on it), then you shouldn't be reading this. What are you doing on our webpage, anyway? Creepy-ass stalker.

Speaking of shit, I'm surprised he didn't say something about the No Shit Sherlock post. I think "shit" is a much worse-sounding word. Oh, and speaking of that post, that same woman trapped me at my desk today. I had loaned a movie to a guy I work with, and she had to comment about it. No matter how quickly I interrupted her with my bored-sounding "Uh-huh" or how determined I was to continue typing while she prattled on, she still didn't get it. She was going on about how she didn't like scary movies and how she would just send her husband over to watch it with me. No fudging thanks, dumbass.

Anyway, my original idea was to post this, but to use The Word in every sentence, but only a few people would truly appreciate it. The rest would think I'm just a foul-mouthed asshole. That may be true, but then they'd have proof. It was going to be funny, though. I was going to use it in every possible combination and make up words like fudgenstein, fudgenheimer, fudgidy-fudge, etc. Oh well, F it. F it right in the A.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Brownie and Bitchy

So, we were thinking Maggie was lonely. We thought she would enjoy a friend. We thought she would like to have someone around for when we left for work. We were FOOLS!

We found Brownie on When we first found him, another family was looking at him so we didn't really get a chance to meet him. Instead, we met Willie, a very cute but hyper dog that Maggie yelled at within 30 minutes of meeting. I couldn't blame her, though. Willie went after her tennis ball. You don't mess with Maggie and her tennis ball. Just ask Ellie.

Josh was in Corydon when the Naughties were supposed to meet. Fairfield was about halfway for us. Maggie was really good the whole way there, but she wanted to sit in my lap most of the time. I should've taken it as a sign that she only wants us, not some other dog. When we got there, a big cute mutt named Fudge stared jumping on me right away. I actually almost hit him coming in. Then he started trying to do the nasty on Maggie. It was pretty annoying, because we were more worried about Fudge violating our little girl than we were seeing how well Mags and Brownie got along.

Brownie is a very sweet pup, and we felt a little bad about his conditions. It looked like he was either going to be very cold or overcrowded. He and Mags got along really well at the time. The only yelling there was occurred between Maggie and some asshole grey cat that was taking paw shots at her. I thought that if we didn't take Brownie, he would have a long, cold, lonely winter.

Brownie peed in Josh's car a few times on the way home. That's actually a little funny, because Josh always brags about how his car is so much better than mine. Well, my car payments $100 bucks less than him every month, and it doesn't have dog pee all over the place. Yet.

They've been getting along so far, but not really enjoying the company. Maggie is looking at us like she hates us, and poor Brownie looks like he misses his friend and the hippie from the shelter. I don't know what we're going to do. I'm crazy about Brownie, but Maggie was our original little girl. If she's not happy, there's no reason for us to have a second dog.

Monday, November 14, 2005


Today I emailed a woman I work with that a part she had on order had been discontinued. She emailed back three words:

"No shit, Sherlock."

I actually shrieked a little bit. I don't know if anyone has ever said that to me. I can't even think of a time I've actually said it TO someone, and I say bitchy things all the time. I've thought it plenty of times and maybe said it as I was telling a story or something. That doesn't count, though. "No shit" is already a kick in the teeth. Throw in the "Sherlock" and you're kicking me in the ribs after I fall down from the kick to the teeth, then peeing on me and taking my wallet.

I was stammering when I tried to express my outrage to Bill and Jason. They couldn't believe it, either. For one thing, this woman doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She is actually so nice it's annoying. She's the kind of person that has to start a conversation with everyone she passes. One day I was at the printer and I heard her start telling a story about her niece sleepwalking and asking about a turkey. When I turned around, I realized she had been talking to me the whole time. I had to smile and say, "Wow, that's weird," and quickly act very interested in what I had just printed so she'd stop talking to me. It didn't really work. She followed me back to my desk and didn't finish her goddamn story until my phone rang and cut her short. The call was even from this d-bag that I normally send straight to voicemail, but I took it as a gift from God that day.

The other thing that pissed me off so much is that the part I was emailing her about was discontinued at the beginning of the year. That's right, eleven fucking months ago. If anyone should have been no-shit-sherlocking someone, it should have been me? If she was so goddamn smart to know the part was discontinued, WTF was she doing putting an order in?

She sent another email about 15 minutes later explaining that she had piles of work to do and she would have time tomorrow to go through and change the orders. The damage was already done, though. Next time I see her I'm going to break her glasses and slit her throat with one of the larger glass shards.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Bitchy bitch

A bunch of people from work went out last night. It was a "welcome to ESP" night for our fabrication manager. That's total bullshit. I didn't get a "welcome to ESP" party when I started. This is the same place that just had cake and a company-wide email that some guy from China was legal to work there. I didn't get cake after my 90-day probationary period. The cake was delicious, though. I had a piece of chocolate with oreo frosting and some fudgy stuff drizzled on it. Oh, and also the place that had people donate to pitch in for wedding gifts for our receptionist who just got married. I'm pretty sure I didn't even get a card from anyone at work when we got married, and I had been there as long as she had been when she got married. Total bullshit. I think last night was just an excuse to get everyone together for happy hour, but still. Total bullshit.

So I was having a perfectly nice converstaion with the new guy when it came out that he was so happy I was cool because he thought I was a major bitch when he started. What? I know I can kinda be a bitch SOMETIMES, but that's only when people deserve it. I don't think I've ever been bitchy to someone I just met unless they're hitting on me or being rude or jackassy or something. He kept going on and on about it, too. Apparently I just sit at my computer looking pissed off all the time. WTF am I supposed to do? Walk around grinning like some kind of moron? Hug him every time he walks through the department?

Maggie is totally snoring on the futon right now. She's ridiculously cute. I'm gonna go spoon her when I'm done.

Anyway, that wasn't the first time that's happened. At some dude's going away party last fall, he told me the same thing. He was all red-faced and wasted, but he kept going on about how surprised he was that I came since everyone said I was aloof and bitchy and too good for everyone that works there. What? If someone keeps to themself like I do most of the time with people I don't know, I usually assume they're just shy, not bitchy and aloof. And the only reason I act like I'm too good for people is because I am.

It was fun either way, but I got stuck paying for WAY too much. Beers were like $1.50, so I said I'd buy a round for a few of us, then one of them ordered J-bombs and I ended up paying for them. Then we lost in foosball so we were supposed to buy another round of shots that went from 4 to like 8. I work with a bunch of fucking freeloaders. I felt bad for the new guy. It was supposedly his party and he probably dropped close to two hundred bucks. Oh, and I slipped on ice and just about bit it. My ankle killed the rest of the night. It didn't help that I was wearing clunky boots with a 2-inch heel. I had to gimp around. It probably would've hurt a lot more if I hadn't been half in the bag.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Hypocrisy and Donuts

Josh told me I had no self-control yesterday. I was complaining that I was full after eating two monster cookie bars, and he threw that at me. Hello? They were monster cookie bars. Oatmeal, peanut butter, chocolate chips, M&Ms, and general naughtiness are not things to control oneself around. Plus they were in bar form, which means if you get a middle piece, it's going to be extra gooey and soft, just like the middle of a cookie.

More disturbing was the fact that it was JOSH telling ME that I had no self-control. This is the guy that ate five Krispy Kremes in a single morning. It's famous among my family members. We were talking about how gross we felt and going around the table talking about how many we had eaten (average of two per person) then it got to Josh, who couldn't talk because he had a donut stuffed in his mouth. He just held up four fingers and kept eating. My sister asked him if it was four including the half-eaten one he was working on and he just shook his head.

This is also the guy that had to pull over and puke because he ate too much at the Macaroni Grill, the same Macaroni Grill he and I went on one of our first dates. He ate too much on the date, too, and while he didn't actually throw up, we couldn't go to a movie because he felt too sick.

I'm not saying I'm perfect or have anything resembling self-control, I'm just saying if anyone gets to criticize my lack of it, Josh probably isn't the one. That's like me telling someone they drink too much. Or my sister Ann saying that someone likes talking on the phone too much. Or my old roommate saying someone likes foot fetish porn too much. Or Maggie saying someone eats too much bread or coffee beans. Or Chrissellis saying someone's Halloween costume is too tight (see attached image). Or Sara Somsky, my freshman year roommate, saying that someone likes board games and Garfield too much. Or that someone's braid is too long or back is too zitty.
Okay, this could get ugly, so I'll quit.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Being RIght Kicks Ass

Every day our receptionist sends out an email to everyone telling us who is out of the office, travelling, visiting, etc. Lately, she's been including a word of the day and useless trivia. Today, the trivia was about ketchup. It said, "The word ketchup is derived from the Chinese ke-tsiap, a pickled fish sauce."

I wondered aloud what had happened between now and then to turn some weird fish-based sauce into today's ketchup. It seems like going from fish to tomatoes is a pretty big leap. Then my coworkers started making fun of me and saying that iit wasn't a sauce MADE of pickled fish, it was a sauce FOR pickled fish. I would think that if it were a sauce for pickled fish, it would read, "a sauce for pickled fish." Duh. And why would a sauce's only purpose be to dip pickled fish in? If you can use the sauce for pickled fish, you could probably put it on pickled ham. Or beets. Or pickles.

A hot debate over semantics ensued. It was three of them versus one of me. Finally, I turned to the ultimate authority: a Google search. Sure enough, ke-tsiap was a sauce MADE from pickled fish. It took them a few websites to believe me, and they still found a few websites that had recipes for ke-tsiap that had clams or oysters, which weren't "fish." I knew they were grasping at straws, so I did a victorious Suck It Dance around our department.

Once the thrill of victory faded, the leap from freaky fish sauce to delicious ketchup started bothering me. How can something made of anchovies, mushrooms, walnuts, and kidney beans possibly be an ancestor of something made of tomatoes and vinegar? That's like saying today's Snickers bar is derived from beef jerky. You can do a whole six degrees of separation thing with just about any food. Stupid bullshit trivia.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Happy Whore-oween

Since when is Halloween an excuse for girls to look as slutty as possible? I saw some serious ass cheeks at the bar Saturday night. Granted, most of the girls were little and could get away with wearing half-shorts with fishnet stockings, but some were not. Has it always been like that? I think Halloween and I think about witches and ghosties and scary clowns, not slutty bunny rabbits and nekkid sluttier cops. The female cops I've seen are fully clothed and plain looking, usually with some sort of femmullet.

We went to a Halloween party Saturday night at a friend of Beej's. It was kind of strange. It was very bright, there was no music, and everyone was just kind of looking around at each other. I didn't know the people there very well, and poor Lorelle and Chris didn't know a soul. THAT is why God and Jose Cuervo invented tequilla. A few games of Flippy Cup and some upside-down margaritas later, everyone seemed much more friendly and I fancied myself the life of the party.

I'm blaming Advil on an empty stomach for the way I felt the next day, not the tequilla and beer and Pucker (stupid Beej and his stupid random bottles of liquor... he pulled that shit at the Iowa/ISU game. Who brings apple flavored vodka to a tailgate? Then again, who brings twenty skanky Hawkeye sorority girls to a tailgate? But that's another story for another day) and champagne punch and j-bombs and more beer. Plus I hadn't eaten anything the night before but a few random party snacks. Oh, and some drunken popcorn, but by then it was MUCH too late. Anyway, Sunday sucked ass pretty much all day. I'm twenty-seven years old. I'm too old for hangovers like that. Putting me in front of unlimited booze is like letting Maggie loose at the Royal Fork. We don't have that inner voice that tells us to knock it off. She at least has the excuse of being a dog. I got nothin.