Friday, January 27, 2006


My sister almost t-boned me on 1st Avenue today. I was pulling into the turning lane (legally) as she turning left onto first Ave and trying to use the turning lane as a "merge" lane (illegally). Had I stopped, the Buick on my ass would've hit me; had I swerved right, I would've hit the car in the other lane; had I swerved left, I would've either been in oncoming traffic, or I would've hit my sister because she wouldn't have had time to get out of my way. Instead, I hit the gas, and she continued to come at me. At the last second, she must've stopped, making her perpendicular to the oncoming cars. Nice work, KATIE (names have been changed to prevent sister from bitching at me for putting her in a blog).
Then? She had the nerve to call me and leave a message about how I almost hit her! Talk about balls o' steel! I won't get into the number of vehicle mishaps she's been in, compared to my one. I'm not going to call her a bad driver. I'm just saying she tried to kill me this morning.

Soooo, last weekend was our company party. It was pretty uneventful. Josh was sick, so he was unable to partake in the open bar. That was probably a good thing, because the year before, he drank about a bottle of JW Black and was still drunk for the 5:00 news the next night. I toned it down a little, despite the J-bombs that were liberally passed out. I met Boob's wife. He has a picture of them in his office. He's sporting a porno mullet and a molestache, and she is rockin a perm. Judging by the mullet and 'stache, I assume the picture was taken at least 10-15 years ago. His mullet and 'stache are no longer present. Her perm, however, is in full effect.
For the most part, everyone seemed to behave much better than they did last year. Still, some fun-hater complained to the owner about some "inappropriate" behavior. Boob had to bring it up at our meeting the other day, just to say that it wasn't any of us, but he was supposed to remind us how to act at company functions. I was paranoid for a little while, wondering if it was the rendition of "I Touch Myself" that I performed at the bar after the party or the unspeakable things I did to the microphone during the performance, but then I reminded myself that the pole dancing and floor humping that my coworker did while fulfilling his duties of backup dancer were much, much worse. Plus, that was technically after the party. Once drinks aren't free, I'm not bound by The Man's rules anymore.
During the same meeting, Boob told us that he'd like it if we'd sit apart now and then. Apparently, someone mentioned that we're always together. As if that's the only problem with the company right now. We didn't meet our 2005 goals because Purchasing always sits together. Are you f'ing kidding me? We pretty much told him that he was being stupid and that we weren't going to comply. I would think a company would be happy that an entire department gets along. That place is ridiculous. They get all worked up about the dumbest things. I slouch in my chair. I scowl when I squint at the monitor. I wear a coat when I'm cold. I sit with the few people there that I can actually stand during meetings. God forbid! All those things MUST negatively affect my performance! Someone stop her! The company will fall apart!
I had to have lunch with Boob. I was dreading it even more than I dread the yearly unspeakable appointment. It went okay. There was a lot of uncomfortable small talk until he opened up the door for me to bring up his sexism. He backpedalled and stammered a lot. He also tried straight-up lying and taking his own words out of context. I think he's probably a little terrified of me now. He was blowing sunshine up my ass like it was his job by the end of it all. Either that, or he's just going to fire me on Monday. Oh, and he talks with his mouth full and spits little bits of food.


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