Tactless Coworker Hair Discussion: It Continues Beyond Student Opinions and My Ability to Understand

Incidentally the new look has not gone unnoticed.
It's opened to mixed reviews.
Yes, well. It's a little stark on you.
...
Not that my opinion should matter a helluva lot.
Ha ha.
You know how some people, it just makes their skin stand out? It does that with yours. D'ya understand? Now, I should probably leave because I'm digging myself in further. Heh.
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This is the same man who speaks loudly saying things like, "Okay?" "Understand?" "I'm not trying to be difficult." I want to reach across the desk and break his glasses.
I have nice skin.
It's ok if my nice skin stands out.
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I want to try a new game: Dragon Smack. Tie as many objects to a piece of string as possible, thwack at your opponent until you break his glasses. If the string breaks, just reach across the desk and do it by hand.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

The return after a break feels like this:
8:00-12:28: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
12:28-rest of day: bleh.
The exclamation points end at about noon-thirty when the verypressingmustgetdone(s) get a little bit done and lunch is over.
And then I start digging through old paper piles trying to find small, easily accomplished tasks.
Sharpie labels.
Fill up water bottle.
Check on Christmas gifts' UPS status.
Take an early afternoon coloring break.
Go into the bathroom and sit silently waiting for everyone to leave.

Your Safety Mattels to Us

Dammit! They just recalled my Polly Pocket!
But I could choke on anything. What else should they recall?
1. SweetTarts
2. Our own spit
3. Engagement Rings --woop! How did that get in there? Yep, that's right. Because my little sister just got one and we have a lot of people in this family who like shiny things. You say diamond, I say swallowing hazard.
I asked Carly to ghostwrite for this post, but when her eyes got all big and wobbly I knew she couldn't come up with the words. She's real excited, folks. And something on her hand looks different over here. And now over here. And what about when she's driving? And when she's eating turkey?

So Street Right Now

Just waiting for that background check to go through...
I'm moving out.
[Sounds of records scratching.]
Grown Up Life After College, Take One.
I tried to find a picture of my new roommate online with a good-old-fashioned Google search. Unfortunately, the results were something my work would call "inappropriate," which is funny, but I "won't post it here because I don't want to perpetuate inappropriateness." Or "get fired."
Other things I'm doing in preparation:
-getting the car onced-over
-checking the crime alerts/stats for my new precinct
-being generally neurotic
-shopping for cutesy, ridiculous items that have no place in my life

Gas Tank 1/2 Full (I'm an Optimist)

This is the story of the road that goes to...
Osceola.
First, let me say, DAMMIT.
There.
Now, then. Osceola, WI is not so far away.
It's just that I missed a turn along the way because hours earlier, I sat at my desk and copied the directions on to a post-it note. The very important turn marked "Osceola" tempted me even as I drove past. Oh, no you don't, I thought. I know exactly what happens when I follow my intuitions. So I continued 40 minutes up the road until I broke down in a gas station parking lot.
I have to stop here and say that this story is too distracting because the town's name reminds me of areola.
The End.

Diet Mug Root Beer Before Noon

I need a shot.
Of cortizone.
I work with a population of students who are unable self-edit.
1: "You dyed your hair!"
Blank stares.
2: "Hey, hair!"
3: "Wohhhey! Girl, I was like, 'is that you?'"
I laugh.
Me: "Do you like it?"
Her: "...It's different."
Her #2: "It's BLACK."
I keep checking my pocket-sized mirror to see if the color is really what I remember.
It is.
But then, I did just get a sign that looked like "the airplane spinning around your head is thumbs up".

Reel(y) Special Moments

Somedays you just feel like dancing on stage at First Ave.
Somedays you can because when Alasdair Roberts who is opening for The Decemberists (The Decemberists! You've been waiting for this concert for months!) asks the crowd if anyone knows how to jig, you raise your hand and are escorted on stage where Mr. Alasdair himself notes that you are both wearing orange shirts.
Here you might say something idiotic about being shirt buddies.
Two other girls will join you and you will do a jig, being extra careful not to step on anything marked "THE DECEMBERISTS," but you will be too worried about the audience seeing your Superman underpants to even care.
Good for you.
Somedays are great days.

Oh, I'm So Sad. Jesus Stole My Child. Boo hoo.

The play wasn't dramatic enough. Or it was so dramatic that I was immune. (Ryan writes about music, so he might not mention it, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't impressed, either.)
Jewish kid gets sick; Catholic nanny baptizes him to ensure his trip to Heaven; Pope claims child for God and secrets him away to the Vatican. Much wailing and letter writing from the parents. Talktalktalk. Even the beautiful scene where Mom denies God gets re-hashed several times. And then the Nazis come.
So when Matt stopped by, I fell off the couch and faked my own death.
I think he would agree that it was appropriately moving.

Active Ingredient: Raw Chicken

The Way We Were
Originally uploaded by Sriracha.

Watch out. Everybody, stand back! Go get some of those nose plugs from the synchro team. BECAUSE I SAID SO, SUSAN!
Step away from the smell of rotting meat. I will approach the affected area.
[moves closer to the window sill]
What's this? My aloe plant? Why does it smell of rotting meat?
Did I over water?
But You were supposed to save me from burns and...
Garberlelehhhhhhhhhh
What have I done?
[collapses to ground, pounding fists against industrial carpet]
Exeunt.

Flexing My Political Muscle

I went off to vote.
And I'm not saying for sure, but it's possible that someone wrote-in "Google" in for City Council Member on my ballot.

We Call Him Zeke

For Halloween I went as myself, but I carried our garden gnome. I explained the costume as, "The Travelocity Production Assistant," to the one person who asked.
The upsetting thing is that no one gaped when I brought a small statue to work.

I Read Some Nabokov in College

Matt: "World of Fish. It's called World of Fish! It's huge! Come on! You'll love it. They have sharks."
Me: "Ok. But...ok."
Really, it reminded me of the old days. Betta cubes, little vases, neon rock. Smells of aquatic waste.
I miss it.
Wait. No, I don't. Before Meg (lovely former college roommate) boiled Lolita (my sweet, neurotic fish) on the windowsill, I experienced multiple failures as a pet owner. She wouldn't eat. Did I know that it was because her bowl was too big? No. Did I blame her instead of myself? Naturally. She went belly up twice, only moving once I had picked her up to make the toilet trip. Was she playing dead to prove her superior intelligence? Obviously.
I was a buffoon, making the same mistake nearly every time I "cleaned" her "bowl," transfering her into the sink instead of the cup set aside. She'd flop around in the basin while I dialed Rin who ran down the hall to save her. I blew into a paper bag.