soapboxdiner

Vanity and Profanity, LOVE IT!

Do you know what feels really effing FABULOUS? Sitting here and telling Old Boy, 'No, not having dinner right now, thanks. I'll have my dinner after I sit here and do my hobby.' Such a simple thing, isn't it? Yet somehow, it is very freeing. I am taking that piece of me that is MY choice and doing with it as I see fit. Not what HE thinks should be right, or necessarily what HE wants. Like tonight, 'What, that can't wait until after dinner?' Well, to be honest with you, Old Boy . . . no. Do I tell you when you can produce your art or watch the football game? I'm going to do my hobby right now, and I will see you when I'm ready to see you. Can I get an amen?

But anyways, so I really wanted to just come here and tell a funny story or something. Add a little levity to an otherwise dreary kind of week of horrible news from the State of Washington Superior Court (who decided after $1500 in lawyers fees to revoke my previously accrued Dead Beat Dad Back Support fund to the tune of over $9000 and give him the tax exemption every other year) and discussions with the Boss regarding that co-worker who perpetually puts false little skeptical bugs in career-controlling ears. I have no funny stories, really. However, I do have BEER. Lots and lots of beer, which is very good. (insert ridiculous --> =) <-- right here like an idiot.)

One funny thing of the week. So we all kinda know, don't we, that SBD enjoys writing her little tidbits of amateur prose, correct? And we may even stretch outselves into imagining that there was been a serious lack of prose-osity happening 'round these parts for the last couple of years? Yes? Well, true. So anyways, in the new career digs, SBD gets to send out these monthly announcements to the company. It's not a large company like I've been in before with thousands upon other entirely different thousands of employees. No. This is a smallish company - somewhere in the range of, oh, say 100 folks. So it's kind of a cozy little 'stablishment. And I - yes, me - am in charge of Morale Boosting; I write all the birthday announcements and company anniversary kudos and this little deal with shopping for and distributing the weekly employee appreciation Secret Pal giftpack dealio. Cool. Nevermind I have no real skill at this kinda shit and I'm so bogged down with "I could really give a shit less if you're happy, fuckers." that I can barely choke out a "Happy Fucking Birthday. Now get back to work, ya attention-fishing slackers." But they trust me with all this shit and what the hey, I say. Just means I don't have to actually WORK for 15-20 minutes of my week, right? Slack on, slackers!

So anyways. Yesterday I write the birthday and anniversary announcements for November and December, because I was slackin' too hard to get it out on time before yesterday and Boss asked, 'So, how's that workin' for ya? You on top of that?' Er, yeah. Right on it, Boss Lady. White on rice, that's me. So I write the announcement and enter the names of the folks and shit. Hit "Send" on the email and promptly carry my happy lovemuffins out to lunch.

Then I get back from lunch to find:

"Not that it matters, but you forgot my birthday, asshole. You suck."

Oh, crap, right? Right. And then I get:

"Don't forget your Boss, it's her B-Day this month, too!"

Are you fucking KIDDING ME? I forgot to mention the BOSS? Jesus Christ Fucking AYE! So I quick send out a SECOND announcement. "Oops, my bad. Don't forget these super rad, stellar, rockin' folks. They ROCK. We LOVE the hell all outta them!" Hit "send" again and wipe the god-I-fucked-up-but-that-was-a-sweet-save" sweat off my brow.

. . .

Then I get this email from the BOSS:

"Um, I just got an email from our most primadonna employee. She's all sad and sulky and shit 'cuz you didn't crawl on your hands and feet entirely up her asshole. =( Make this one a good one, SBD."

Cray me a river, Princess. Really, I've just devoted TOO MUCH FUCKING TIME to you and I have what? Oh, that's right, REAL WORK, to do today. Get over yourself. Jesus! But it really came out as, "One bright, sunny Decembe not too long ago, a wee babe was born to parents who in all their hopeful imaginings never knew this glistening bundle of joy in their arms would grow up to be such an integral member of our company. YOU'RE AN ALL STAR, PRINCESS. WE LOVE YOU!"

And I get an email from Princess this morning, "Ok. You're forgiven."

Do you sense and share with me the deep, abiding relief and gratitude? Yeah, right. WhatEVER!

Anyways, so the punchline is, "God, I'm an idiot!" And really, isn't that the funniest thing ever?

7:44 pm - 12.06.06
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