Thursday, February 13, 2014

Car Trouble

Driving on the road at only 40 mph, my windshield was struck by what I assumed at first was a giant fucking bat. It was about 1 o'clock in the afternoon, so it's understandable that after being hit by a bat that flapped my windshield once and then flew over my car that I immediately looked in my rear view mirror to see what the fuck a bat was doing flying about in the midday. Eyes on the road? Normally, yes. But there was a bat, obviously blind from the bright sun, and who knows if it was a vampire bat and ready to burst into flames at any moment.

The bat hit the car directly behind me. Before being whipped off, hitting the roof of the second car behind me, and then bouncing to the side of the road in the sidewalk gutter. It was while it was on the car behind me, flat on it's windshield, wings spread wide, that I realized something. It couldn't have been longer than a second, but I realized something that made time slow down.

That was not a bat. That was a giant mustache.

A friend had given me a car magnet. A decorative magnet you put on your car, not a magnet in the shape of a car (that would be weird, if it was a hot wheels car glued to a magnet and you could still put it on your actual car [do you have to glue the hot wheels car to the magnet? Or will it stick on it's own, because it's metal? Or is that matchbox cars? I don' know my toy cars {Or how magnets work}]) It was this two foot mustache that I slapped on the hood of my car to add some steampunk to my ride. (But anyone who saw it probably just assumed I was a hipster.) And that mustache had just ripped itself off of my car and attacked innocent bystanders.

As it bounced to the second car behind me, I PRAYED no one would get into an accident. (Which I've already disclosed, no one did get in one.) I prayed to gods I have never believed in, because while I've never read the fine print, I'm pretty sure my insurance policy does not cover mustaches. And when the longest second of my life ended, and the mustache fell into the gutter, I looked around for the police cars, waiting to be arrested for nearly killing 7 people (that's how many I assume were in the cars total..), but there were none. I thought, maybe I should go back, and retrieve the offending mustache, so as not to litter.

But then I said, "Fuck that," and continued to drive away.

Moral of the story: you need to check your car insurance, because there are ass holes like me on the road.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Midnight in Paris

A healthy uterus can trap 3-5 cats a week. And by trap, I mean that it shoots itself inside out and outside of the female body, like the stomach of a starfish, and wraps itself around the feline.
The cat may put up a fight, but a healthy uterus has a thick lining for protecting itself against teeth and claws. Through the power of kegels the cat is quickly subdued, brought up into the body where it's stored for later.
The cats are later used to attack other women. This is how true ladies establish dominance in social packs. The attacker releases her feline and the defender does the same. They battle in a "cat fight". Whoever's cat is the winner gets to continue to climb up the social ladder.
A woman can be challenged at any time, so it's not only important to always have a cat up there, but also a strong one. This is also where the street term "pussy" comes from, and why less hygienic women's vaginas smell like fish.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Tips for dealing with a temporary receptionist.

I'm currently working as a temporary receptionist. In general, it's pretty awesome. But I've learned that a lot of people don't know how to deal with receptionist, or temp workers. So I've complied a list of tips that apply to dealing with one or the other (or both).

* If you phone in, and are an ass, I will inform the person you are calling that you're an ass.

* If I offer to send you to someone's voicemail, don't reject the offer and then proceed to leave a message with me. I'm not writing anything down. That's the whole point of voicemail.

* Being on hold for 30 seconds is not the same thing as being on hold "forever". I have a phone that times how long you've been on hold. If you complain, I have no problem dropping your call. I also have a phone with caller ID. You want to be a dick, good luck getting a live person on the line EVER.

* I will not watch your kids while you attend a meeting.

* I will not watch your dog while you attend a meeting.

* If you or anyone/any animal your brought into my office area shits on the carpet, YOU are cleaning it up.

* You want to know when someone will be back from lunch? I want a Mars bar. Let's see if we can make a deal.

* I don't want a back massage. You stay in front of my desk, and I'll stay behind my desk. No one has to get hurt.

* I have no idea how you want your coffee. That's why I asked, "How would you like your coffee?" Responding, "With a little bit of sugar" is getting us nowhere. Is a little 2 packets of sugar or 27? It's all relative.

The most important thing you have to remember about temps, especially if they know that there's no chance that this temporary assignment will turn permanent, is that we really don't care. If you get more business, we don't get any rewards. If you get less business, we don't get any punishment. There are no consequences. I will do a good job, as long as you are polite and respectful.

Friday, December 28, 2012

I still don't have the social interaction thing down.

The other day, Mr J and I were at a pet store, buying kitty litter. We have two cats, this is a common errand for us.
The cashier, so bright and bubbly for a Saturday morning, asked us, “Do you have cats?”

I stared at her, and turned to Mr J. I was lost for words.
He said, “Yes, two.” And continued a small talk exchange with her, as he paid for the bag of litter. As we walked out of the store and towards our car, he asked me, “Why didn’t answer her?”

I told him, “because the only thing I could think of to say was ‘No cats, we’re just perverts.’”

Monday, November 19, 2012

How I Could Have Been An Assistant To A Cult Leader

As soon as I decided to move, I began looking for a job. I found one, but not without first almost joining a cult.

I was browsing a job posting site, posting my resume, and applying for any posting that I found interesting. I saw a position working for a CEO of an international company. It would require a lot of travel, which I enjoy, and met my salary requirements, so I applied.

I got a phone call, asking to schedule a phone interview. This always seems a little redundant. Calling someone to see when would be a good time to call. If I answered the phone, it's a good time. But I wanted a chance to research the company before my interview. So I would know if we would be a good fit. I scheduled the interview for that evening, and started frantically researching.

My interview was to be with Mahendra Trivedi, of the "Trivedi Effect." 
What the hell is the "Trivedi Effect?" 
It's a "healing energy  that only Mr. Trivedi (and his wife apparently) can harness and direct into people to make them better. Sick? This energy will heal you. It will give you good luck. Your hair will be shinier. You'll have a better sex life. And cats will sit in your lap. 

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Mr. Trivedi charges a lot of money for his energy infusion sessions. Sessions that you'll have to routinely have done to keep the effects. Because magic is like batteries? They need to be continuously recharged? 

If you can't get an appointment; you can buy water from his website that has already been transfused with his energy. You can buy wine transfused with his energy. Face cream with his energy. At a certain point, I can't help but snicker, and make semen jokes to myself every time I read about his "energy".

These jokes I began making to myself, suddenly became all too possible, as I learned of the sexual harassment and assault lawsuits against this man by previous female employees. One lawsuit, and I might give him the benefit of the doubt that he's innocent. Dozens of lawsuits, and guilt seems obvious.

What do you get when you combine a narcissistic man with delusions of grandeur and followers? A man with power, who will misuse and abuse the power. A man who has allowed himself to become corrupted by his own greed, and sick sexual cravings. Otherwise known as a cult leader.

I didn't answer the phone for my job interview.

For more information about this disgusting man and his practices, go to this blog: