Egg Timer

You're ticking. Yeah, like a bomb. Or a pinata full of crazy. Either way, I think we're pretty close to critical mass.


Crazy is like dropping a raw egg. It's a pain in the ass to clean up. It slides all over. You don't want to touch it because it feels weird and icky. You have to wash your hands or get salmonella. And this is a particularly bad egg. The Easter Bunny himself would stomp on you.

Look away children. The Bunny is going to administer a little woodland justice. Animal Kingdom, what what.

Seriously, I wish a furry varmint would come fuck you up. I'm in a bad place about you. I just laughed out loud at there mere fantasy of you being attacked by squirrels. Crazy in life and crazy in death. That would be your tombstone that no one would read because no one likes you enough to come to your funeral.

Ok, no...I don't wish you dead. Or harm, though maybe a squirrel could run at you aggressively and make you scream. But I do wish you disappearance. Like POOF! BE GONE.

Should we look for her? Do you look gift horses in the mouth? Hell no.

That's where she'd be by the way - Hell. Back to mind her minions. Evil can't run itself. No, no...needs an overlord.

Grumblings

Sometimes when I'm screaming at Lillian to lower her voice, it occurs to me that the situation is ironic. Similarly, in a meeting about opening communication and someone consistently talks over others, it occurs to me that the situation is ironic.
Except I already said what I wanted to say but you didn't hear me for your interruptions. So no, no...you go right on ahead talking in a circle or spiral or reverse. Keep repeatedly insisting that you are an open communicator so that no one can get a word in. Talking louder than me does - in fact - make you right. Damnedest thing.

I raised my hand. Yep, as a grown up, in a meeting of only 6 people, I had to raise my hand. I didn't get called on either. Maybe my hand didn't communicate the message effectively. Next time, I'll try waving.

I'm glad the agenda to talk about everyone's stuff only included the stuff important to one. Did we get to submit ideas? No? How inclusive! I really feel great about all this.

And that the opportunity to voice your opinion was only given at the end, after the very encouraging, "If you don't say it now, you can't go back to your desk and grumble. So go ahead Jessica, say whatever it is you might have to complain about."

YAY, it's my turn to communicate! Except not really since it's lunchtime. Oh well...too bad since I was just about to communicate the fuck outta you guys.

Signature for Bandaids

I have a paper cut. It's tiny and God-awful as paper cuts generally are. Paper should be declared a threat to public safety. These things are near-crippling. More people should be outraged. Forget the War on Drugs. Let's declare a war with paper. We'll win if we just burn it before it touches us.

Since I'm a bad mom, I don't actually carry bandaids in my purse. So I have to go downstairs and get one out of the first aid kit. Only it's locked. First aid my ass! More like Wait-a-Second Aid.

Obviously they forgot to unlock it this morning. I studiously inform the receptionist who, by the way, hates papercuts too. Good. I'm thinking of starting a resistance movement. Bring your scissors.

And then she tells me that I'll have to sign that I've received a bandaid.

Huh? Why in the world would anyone need to do that?

Admittedly, I spend FAR TOO MUCH TIME reading about personal privacy, protected types of information and confidentiality. As a result, I'm highly suspicious of anything that logs what I do. Even something as simple as bandaid usage. It creeps me out that whatever necessitated the list now means there is a list and someone must be looking at it.

Someone will review my bandaid usage. How innocously invasive!

Were too many people stocking their personal medicine cabinets with the office's first aids? Has there been looting? Rampant generic asprin consumption that interferes with productivity? Are people not accurately reporting office injuries? Will my department be billed per headache and tiny injury?

I recognize that I sound like I am a typewritter and a reclusive mountain cabin away from being a total conspiracy theorist. But I don't like the First Aid log. I'm reading the new FTC report on consumer privacy (page turner!) and felt decidedly uncomfortable with behavioral advertising by page 3. Throw your Kroger Plus cards away. And the last time you bought a song on iTunes, you gave Steve Jobs your first born. It was on pg. 296 of 834 in the terms and conditions you didn't bother scrolling through.

I refused the bandaid. I'll suffer in the name of frivolous privacy.