I’m out, yo

So, I’m out like a fat kid in dodgeball. I received another offer from a local company, so I’m blowing this popsicle stand. No more will I be somebody’s bitch … well that is, of course, until Wednesday when I start my new position.

Today’s my last day. But, today was also the day where I attempted to give two weeks. What was PostHaste’s reaction? “Thanks, but no thanks.” It was literally one of the biggest “Fuck Yous” I’ve ever received. She simply told me that today would suffice as my last day. Now, there was reasoning behind it that I understand a little bit, but it still certainly was a big kick in the balls.

The Big Cheese’s reaction? Peaches and cream, believe it or not! His face lit up like somebody told him he has a new grandchild! He went on and on about how happy he was that I found something more in my field of study. He also told me how much he enjoyed working with me and respected my work. He even offered to serve as a future reference if I ever needed one.

In short, I left his office wondering if I had done any meth today.

On a bit of a sadder note, i’m leaving a couple of good teamates behind; Dirty Martini and MVP will be missed on a daily basis. Although we hope to keep in good communication, I certainly won’t get the same rhetoric at the new place. I also don’t think it will go over as well if I talk with one of the females there about how fat her ass is. Dirty Martini is truly unoffensible — if that’s even a word.

Cheers to all who read this blog. I hope that Dirty Martini and MVP keep it going well into the future. Actually, screw that. I hope they get new jobs soon too so this damn blog can die!

Shimone

This is what happens when it’s snowing and there’s no bosses around

It’s a bitter pill

I hate everything today.

Have you ever just awoke on the wrong side of the bed and everything’s miserable for the rest of the day? Well I woke up on that side of the bed, and then the right side of the bed shit on me.

And you know you’re in a terrible mood when you begin glaring at people who simply ask you to do your job. The things you are actually responsible for. The tasks that you get paid to accomplish.

“Ginger, could you mail this please?”

Fuck off.

“Ginger, I need three copies of this as soon as possible.”

Suck a fat one.

“Ginger, could you file this for me?”

I hope your first born is retarded.

Yup, that’s how it’s gonna be today. I’m  bitter, and so far, I’m happy being so bitter.

Just don’t ask me to do my job.

Only in Coaltown

We work in a post industrial wasteland called Coaltown.  It’s a ‘depressed’ area that seems to have a higher concentration of weird people than ‘non-depressed’ areas.

When Baylor worked here we used to have a phrase ‘only in Coaltown…’, which was short for ‘Only in Coaltown would ‘X’ be acceptable.’.

I have a few examples:

There’s a guy who walks past our office we call Mumbles.  Mumbles is a fairly large, scary guy who, as you would expect, mumbles all the time.  I was outside with Baylor, and Mumbles said ‘Hey Tony, when is your birthday?’ (Baylor’s name isn’t Tony, Mumbles just calls everyone Tony), Baylor responded, and Mumbles said ‘Same as Carrot Top!’ and walked off.  We thought that was an odd response.  Baylor later checked the internet, and it turns out he does share a birthday with Carrot Top.

There’s another guy who drive his Jazzy (aka Raskel, aka Hoverround, aka Scooter) in the street. I understand that’s rather common, but this guy has gone through the trouble to modify his Jazzy with a plywood roof , and headlights.

There’s another guy who walks in front of our office who always wears headphones.  Every 35′ or so he stops and dances in place for maybe five seconds then continues on his way.

Today I was walking into the office from my car, and a U Haul truck went by.  As it past I noticed there were three black guys riding on the back of it like a garbage truck.  I did the classic ‘What the FUCK?’ HUGE double-take.  They saw me and laughed.  I laughed.  We laughed so hard that I was honestly concerned that one of them was going to fall off the moving truck.

Only in Coaltown…

We’re still kids

Today at lunch Dirty Martini, in her usual loud way, said ‘That’s all the things I want in my mouth all at once!’.

Ginger and I had to hide our laughter.

What the shit?

Mad there hasn’t been a post in like a week?  Me too!

Between repairing our computers (some of which are running windows 98 – not joking), and coming in dead last on competitively bid projects, I’ve been somewhat busy.

Baylor’s last day is tomorrow.  He’s moving on, so the likelihood of ‘Hey, is the medicine what makes your ass the size of the southern hemisphere?’ comments will be significantly reduced around here.  We’ll miss him for sure.  He’s a cool guy.

You gotta cup the balls …

At some point toward the beginning of his employment here, MVP must have given PostHaste the best blowjob of her life.

Don’t go back to read that sentence a second time; you read it correctly the first.

For those who don’t know, PostHaste is one of the bosses of our little company, and spends her day attempting to micromanage while alternately doing her shopping online. The other portion of her day is spent condescending all who happen to be around her at the time and killing hundreds of thousands of trees by printing out every meaningless e-mail she receives.

Now, back to MVP’s blowjob on PostHaste. I mention this because MVP could admittedly commit arson and burn the entire building down, but PostHaste would blame the company who produced the matches he used.

I, on the other hand, could go running into that burning building to save PostHaste’s child, save him from imminent death, and PostHaste would call me a horrible person for making her baby cry.

So, MVP, continue sucking the fat one. I’d start sucking, as well, but PostHaste would probably tell me I don’t cup her balls as gently as MVP does.

Interesting observations

Our office is an old, large house that’s been converted into offices.  As a result we have residential style mens and womens bathrooms.  They’re just like the bathrooms in your parent’s house.  Except they’re dirtier.

The president’s office, and the mens room are next to each other. (we’ll call the president PostHaste)  PostHaste’s desk is on the wall, and the other side of the wall is the mens room toilet.

One day Ginger made the observation; “Have you ever noticed that when you’re taking a shit in the mens room your ass is like a foot away from PostHaste’s face?”

“No, but now that you mention it…” I replied.

Ginger interrupted, “Yeah, not only that, but when PostHaste is looking at the monitor, she’s staring directly at your ass while it’s crapping.”

Ginger’s got an interesting way of looking at things.

Ten things about this office that are TRUE

1. People smoke cigarettes and cigars in here at their desk.  What’s worse is that it was ‘allowed’ until about a year ago when state law prohibited it.  It’s like 1972.

2. The newly renovated office lobby retained the wood paneling because it was ‘expensive stuff when they bought it’.

3.  There is a unused printer at the top of the stairs that has to weigh 125lbs. I think it’s from 1973.

4.  The carpet is black and purple.  Did you hear me?  Black and purple!  I spilled nearly half a gallon of olive oil on it within days of it being installed.

5. Our office is on the second floor.  On the landing leading to our office is a mailbox that’s taped shut and has a sign on it that reads ‘Bring mail UPSTAIRS’.  We can’t take the mailbox down because the stain on the wood paneling underneath the mailbox is a lighter shade of crap-brown than the surrounding paneling.

6. Our conference room has a home made conference room table shaped like a kidney.  There’s also a glass TV and a VCR in there.

7. There’s pictures of buildings in the lobby that we built in the 70′s that have been torn down.

8. The reception desk looks like this: (Svelte) – Oh, bonus carpet in that pic!

9.  It’s amazingly cold in the winter, and if you have your computer and a space heater on in at the same times you take out the electricity to half the office.

10.  There’s a picture of the guy who started the company in the lobby.  He’s giving us all the upside down finger. No kidding.

Boxes and slots …

Old people are funny. And I preface this anecdote simply with that.

At our place of employment, the girls who work a level above us have mailboxes on our level so that we don’t continually have to carry their papers upstairs. This is convenient, but often the source of several phrases that have double entendres.

The former owner’s wife, for example, who is nearing her 70s, doesn’t understand why I giggle like a little schoolgirl when she hands me papers and says something along the lines of “Just throw it right in her slot” or “Just put it in her box.”

Ah, old people. You do serve a purpose in society.

Is the medicine what makes your ass so big?

When reading this, there will be times when you’ll think we’re making this stuff up.  We’re not.

Every day we sit together at lunchtime.  Lunchtime here is like a family dinner – there’s zero work talk, it’s jokes, and ballbusting, stories, and food.  Lots of food.

Today, Dirty Martini came into the lunch room with both her lunch, and two prescription bottles.  A coworker, lets call him Baylor, asks ‘what is the medicine is for?’, Dirty replies ‘It’s for my thyroid, it helps keep my metabolism from going haywire.’.

Now, be aware that none of us are known to be ‘sensitive’, most of all me..  but even I was was worried when this little gem genuinely slipped out of Baylor’s mouth:

‘Is the medicine what makes your ass so big?’

RED LIGHT!

Now, even I know better than to say the terms ‘big’ and ‘ass’ toward a female unless you’re LOOKING for a fight!

Dirty responded without a hint of being upset… the conversation continued for another few sentences, factually, before I finally said something to the effect of ‘How about Baylor just said ‘Is that what makes your ass so big?’ to Dirty and nobody batted an eyelash?’.  We laughed.

This is how things are every day here, but I’m convinced it’s not normal.  That’s why we started this blog.

Daily sodomy

Nothing makes me happier than coming into work and getting pounded in the ass all day long.

Am I a porn star, you may ask? No. Although sometimes I do feel as though I’m sodomized more in one day than Jenna Jameson has experienced in a lifetime. (And by the way, that’s A LOT of ass pounding.)

But I digress … no, I’m not a porn star, but I am the assistant of a moderately succesful former construction business owner whose ideas of running such business are stuck in the 1980s — the decade I was born, by the way.

Unfortunately, among his many faults, my boss (70 years old, by the way) has lost the ability to dial his telephone. At least that’s what I assume, seeing as how he asks me to call every single person he needs to talk with in a day.

“Ginger, get me the mayor.”

“Ginger, try Bob Shalackey for me.”

“Ginger, see if you can get Imahuge Dick on the phone.”

Imagine my discomfort when I have to telephone a person, and as soon as I have said person on the phone, immediately have to ask he or she to hold. I can tell you one thing, if anybody ever called me and then asked me to hold for a minute, I would definitely hang up on that asshole.

So, as we’ve established, I’m the asshole who makes people hold while the Big Cheese decides when and if he wants to pick up the phone.

Now I know what you’re thinking: “Wait a minute, Ginger. IF he wants to pick up the phone? Doesn’t he ask you to get these people on the phone for him? Wouldn’t that mean he would like to speak to these people?”

In a fair world where, again, I wasn’t being pounded in the ass all day long, the answer to that question is yes. However, I work for the Big Cheese. This is a man who’s famous for requesting that I get somebody on the phone, and either completely disappearing off the face of the earth 30 seconds later when that person is on the phone, or picking up his phone to call somebody else of his own choosing. Yes, apparently miracles do happen and he can dial his own phone occasionally — water into wine shit — but only when he knows I’ve connected with the person he’s asked me to reach.

Do you know what’s worse than asking somebody who you’ve called to hold for a minute? Asking if you can call that person back because your boss is the most inconsiderate prick on the earth. Ever. In the history of the earth.

This is just one example of my daily suffered sodomy; there’s many others soon to come. And I’ll tell you another thing — it’s a good thing they pay me a good salary … oh wait, I forgot making $4.45 an hour wasn’t a decent salary. Maybe I would be better off in porn.

Quiet Pretenders: The Art of Fake Working

A few minutes ago, I rearranged my desk in such a way where any person who simply walked by my office would not only think I was working but swamped at that.  Truth be told, haven’t done a thing since about 10am.  How you say…well, I’m just that good.  I can’t take all the credit, however, since every employee has their ‘I’m busy’ tactic.  Some use the Look-Angrily-At-The-Computer-and-Squint move, others prefer the ‘Huff and Eye Roll’ but my favorite thus far is the ‘Ultra Loud So Everyone Can Hear Me Yelling Phone Call’.  It wakes you up a bit, gets everyone’s attention and shocks you into thinking that particular person is doing their job, and doing it well.  In reality, that’s the only thing they’ve done all day.  Checkmate. 

Made me think how silence in an office setting has no real correlation to work production.  In essence, it’s the exact opposite.  I’m quite certain that if we were all ‘working’, we’d need to communicate in some way to do it.  Right now, I could hear the toilet flush across the street.   It’s rather comforting actually, having no guilt.  Knowing that my coworkers are secretly talking about titties and margaritas and iPhone apps. 

And now I’m jealous I’m not talking about titties and margaritas and iPhone apps.

Take this nut…

Some days just start perverse.  No real reason or subliminal meaning, just straight dirty.  Something so simple too, like “nut” creates hours of countless hysterics coupled with snide looks from coworkers, who are in general, not half as funny as we are.  Or not half as perverse.  Take for example, Christmas Eve when my favorite fellow blogger so innocently said, whilst holding a handful of cashews, “Open your mouth so I can throw this nut in it.”  My immediate response, with absolutely no hesitation, was “Well, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that…”.

So it began.

What’s this all about?

This is where Dirty Martini, Ginger and I are going to post funny things that happen to us, either at work, or in general.  This should be quite hilarious.