Because She Asked Me To

Kate: I gotta piddle
burb

[Kate returns, dry heaving and holding up a sideways gang sign that resembles a the peace sign, or a number two, or a vagina.]


Me: I'm so confused. J#2?


Kate: stall #2


Me: HHAHAHA
bad?


Kate: almost just barfed
literally
i went in
and the culprit was still in the b-room
and so i couldnt just walk out of the stall
but she signed the bowl


Me: [Laughing hysterically] it was a piece of art


Kate: and i started gagging
and had to close my nose
and then the thought of breathing in poop air from my mouth
made me gag more
and then i cupped my hands over my nose and mouth
and tried to blow minty air up my nostrils
i probably peed all over myself
but i just needed to get out
can you blog about this later?


Me: I'm shaking [still laughing hysterically]
yes.

Amish Cousins Are The Best

A few years after I started working where I work, I found out that one of my best friends in the office is related to me, a distant cousin. We'll call her "A".

A, standing for Awesome, of course. Or Amy.

A happens to have Amish heritage and knows how to make some BANGIN' red eggs. She just brought one over for me and made my day. Thats right, eggs soaked in beets and vinegar. Behold, the power:



God bless you, angel.

You too can be a rental property owner

I hope my landlord doesn't find my blog, but judging by his skill in crafting correspondence, I dont think I have anything to worry about.

Also, I know by posting this, I'm begging for you all to start harshly critiquing my spelling and grammatic errors.

I got this letter in my mailbox a few days ago, I'm not too upset that the building is getting sold. Maybe the next guy will let me get a pup.... Anyway, enjoy. I did you the favor of grading the piece:

I fall to pieces, which then turn to mush

Did you ever feel like you were just watching your body perform, with little or no control over what it does? Thats me today. Its like the scene from Fear & Loathing, where HST is walking through the swamp that is his hotel room, like some sort of space alien. I felt like my legs weighed nothing earlier, therefore I was over compensating for their actual weight, and ended up practically goosestepping my way to the water fountain.

Yesterday I took a personal day and got a lot done. Define "a lot" however you must, but I did get an oil change and some much needed recreation. Nothing illegal. Certainly nothing that would warrant this kind of physical torture.

I broke the diet bad, over imbibed, and feel like these things are responsible for my slow-headedness. That, and being back in the office doesn't help.

I fell asleep by 730 yesterday. PM. Little did I know my windows were open, and front door unlocked. I had bad dreams about people sneaking in while I slept (My body knew I should get up and secure my surroundings!), these people happened to be of latino heritage, and were building a garage for my grandmother. In my dream I kept referring to them as Amish, and they disassembled my air conditioner more than once, trying to sneak into my bedroom. Weird. Then I had a dream that I was in my friend Amy's wedding (which was being held at the Christian winter camp I went to when I was 14 - in the Adirondack Mountains), and the dress I had to wear was too big, and she wanted to postpone the wedding until the next day so I could have it altered. And then someone peed on my dress and I decided to make the alterations myself since it was already covered in pee. Hmph.

Switching gears: I feel extremely taken advantage of, lately. Some people (no one reading this, or I wouldn't be writing it) just leech everything I have to offer, and give nothing in return. We're talking emotional support, advice, help in general. I really hate it when I listen, analyze and put true effort into the betterment of someone else's life, and when I need something? They're like dust in the wind. Karma will get 'em, right? :( Specifically, someone I work with. This isn't the first time she's done it to me. I never learn my lesson, I'm too much of a giver, and I need to learn to say no.

Jojo needs some love.

Notorious P.I.P.

Pretty In Pink: NOT.

I made the huge mistake of wearing a pink shirt for the first time to the office today. It's a cute shirt, its stretchy with 70's-tux-esque ruffles across my breasty region. If I had my camera cable here, I'd take a picture and post for you, but you'll have to use your imagination for now.

So anyway, seriously everyone who sees me/walks by my desk is "AWWWWWWWWW, Jojo, pink is definitely your color! Why don't you ever wear pink? You should buy more pink stuff!".

That kind of fawning makes me uncomfortable, as though I did this just to garner attention and begin my conversion from the dark-side to the pink-side. Seriously. I thought I was the Anti-Pink. Just because I have a lot of black clothes and black hair does not make me depressed. Seriously, unless I'm mocking something or wearing it out of spite, or something cooky like an entirely pink suit with matching pink shoes - its just not my color of choice.

I think what scares me the most is when someone sees a girl wearing pink, they expect her personality to have the same high-fructose corn syrup qualities as their hue. Not the case with me. For those of you who are lucky enough to know me-know me (gnomey, hahha), you're aware that I'm probably one of the most cynical and sarcastic bastards ever.

Maybe in my old age, I should start going for shock and awe. Maybe I'll start adding more pastels to my wardrobe and see what happens? Maybe it'll get me more friends and a boyfriend and maybe I'll even get matching lipgloss and a tiny, fluffy white dog. Maybe, maybe I'll start shopping at Express. Oh, the horror.

this is so totally f'd

I didn't think it was a big deal until I payed attention to the ages of the people listed:

http://www.marryourdaughter.com/

Seriously? Are we bedouins?

Your thoughts?

Unhappy Feets

On Wednesday I go to the podiatric surgeon to schedule my surgery for my gnarley feet.

My feet have been gnarley as long as I can remember. I've always had poor balance and have never been able to wear flip flops without massive amounts of toe-shyness.

I'm far too embarrassed to post a picture of my actual feet, but have made a sketch to show you the general shape, as well as purple lines to show you where i'll be getting butchered:


Thats right, they're going to be cutting two of my toes completely off, and re-attaching them in proper form. I'm really nervous.

Here's what a real foot should look like:In addition to the toe dealio, they have to cut the metatarsocunieform and re-align, and then fuse it to my ankle bones.

See the part that is the "First MP joint"? That has to be filed down with something that looks like an industrial metal file.

Sad panda.

Recovery is like 6-8 weeks for each foot - and the surgeries have to be done one at a time. I guess I wont be walking right for 3 months.

The good part about it all is that I'll be getting a wheel chair at the mall for Black Friday again. The product is: No one eye contact from anyone, and hurried shoppers will scamper like roaches under florescent light to get out of my way. Children will cry and old people will stare. You know me, Miss Positivity!

I don't expect you to understand

...but I crack myself up:

(I'm still vain, and a lot of you have never actually seen me in action)



Also, I didn't want to break my streak of blogs that include Kate. She is making a video for work. (Technically I shouldn't be sharing the test footage with anyone... but you're special, Reader)

I went on an accidental bender last night and I'm paying today. One of these days I'll grow up.

One of these days.

Just a dream and the wind to carry me

For the past few weeks, I have made a Monday morning ritual of starting my day with the smooth sounds of Christopher Cross.

It all began when I had to buy a song via iTunes to help a co-worker experience all that IS Christopher Cross. I listen at least weekly as to get my $0.99-worth.

I hope you know of him, but if you don't, now you do:

Because It's Friday.

Kate and I played sneak-attack camera-stealing picture funtime today:


Which turned into self portrait picture funtime:

Which turned into not giving Joj' her camera back funtime:




I know, I'm vain.

It's a Slovak Thing

South Beach Diet, Rule #8: No matter how hungry you are, do not buy a jar of cold pickles and attempt to eat them in the car on the way home from the gym.

You'll end up with a snootch full of brine, and the garlic dill? It tingles: