Monday, July 18, 2005

More Irksome Coworker Incidents, and Diets (also irksome)

How do? So, the weekend came and went. Restfull? Yes. Feeling rested? No. I'm such a sap, when the caller ID displays Xtian's phone number, I pick it up, no matter how tired, how deep in sleep, how late at night. I'm a pushover. I should just give people a phone curfew, but in my experience, the only time people call you late at night, they probably need you. My existing phone policy is: call me whenever, if I feel like talking, I'll pick it up. I've never been able to let it go to the machine. Hence, I'm F.O. tired, and it's no one's fault but my own.

This episode wasn't directed at me, but with my desk being located where it is, I had prime viewing. So, to give some background: there are two departments in this office suite, ours and the Educational Theater people. As such there are two of all office supplies, because in our company, each department has their own accounting and budget. So, we have our fax, they have theirs, and never the twain shall meet. So, CB walks up to their copy machine (which I've reminded her repeatedly is NOT our copy machine) even though our machine is currently ready to roll (and no, their copy machine is not better than ours in any way) Their copy machine is less than 3 feet from me, so I hate their machine, but whatever. I'm on a conference call, trying desperately to pay attention. CB walks upt to their machine, loudly sighing and pushing buttons. "IS THIS THING BROKEN??" she asks no one in particular. I don't even budge my head, because that is an invitation to ask for help. Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the ET people heading this way, clearly in the midst of another task.

CB asks if ET Lady knows how to use this copy machine (Tangent: If there is a person who works in any kind of office setting for longet than 5 minutes, and DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO USE A COPY MACHINE, they need to be tested for brain damage. Put paper in, press green button that is helpfully labelled "COPY." It's amazing. Ok, sorry to belabor the point, let's move along) and ET lady nicely doesn't say, "Use your own machine." Instead she walks over to the machine to see if she can help. CB then says "Oh, great, I need two copies of those" and turns around, walking back to her office. ET Lady, going well above the call of beyond kindness, makes the copies. While doing so, CB leaves the office. Never is a please/thank you/gosh, I know this isn't your job etc utterred.

I feel terrible for this woman. How degrading and annoying. The best part, for me, is that had I not been on the phone, that copy bitch would have been me. Seriously, I fear what may have transpired had I been informed that she needed copies. Sure, anything would have been a CLM (Career Limiting Move) but sometimes, some people need to get told. Know what I mean?

Just because you are paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you.


I've started my first diet ever. I've never been on a diet, I just spent the whole of my teen years (ok, let's get real from about 11 to 21 years old) not eating. This wasn't a diet. All food was off-limits. Sometimes as a treat, I would have some plain, dry Cheerios, or some iceburg lettuce. Anything that was actually consumed under Mama's watchful eye was quickly purged. The only calories consumed were those that were digested in the 10 minutes between meal and bathroom. Again, I don't consider that a diet. Just psychosis.

So, now, after seeing that scale hit 180 lbs on my 5'6" frame, it's time to diet. No sugar, only carbs from whole foods, and for two weeks, no fruit, juice etc. I've been promised weight loss. It will happen. This being fatter than ever thing, is not going to fly. I'm done with this. The final straw: I don't even like hanging out naked in my home anymore. I'm a huge nudist (Shut up, huge as in "avid" not size, geez, why don't you just kick a girl when she's down?). So for me to feel hesitant to get naked in the privacy of my own bedroom, that's bad. Also, needing to have a few drinks in me before I feel sexy enough to actually want sex. Bad things, all.

My only request: I want to keep my tits. I didn't have them for 22 years, and I'm really enjoying filling out a bra.

Less than two weeks until the gentlman friend moves in. I'm kind of freaking, but in a good "I'm looking forward to it, can it just happen already!" kind of way. I'm sure that will change rapidly and repeatedly for the next...11 (ELEVEN?!?!?!) eleven days. Hang on, and I hope you enjoy the ride.

Happy Monday!

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