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Backdoor Lana

5 Apr

Salutations, my friends.  And a happy Friday to you!  Know what makes this an amazing Friday?  I quit my job yesterday.  Yes, it’s true, I’m blowing this popsicle stand. I’m out of this bitch, y’all.

More on my exit later.

Let’s talk about what a small world this is.  My boss is also planning on getting out of here, she too dislikes this place.  I had hoped we could give our notice at the same time so her boss could freak out and panic.  Alas, it won’t happen at the same time.  It could, however, happen a few weeks apart.

This afternoon my boss had a second interview at an organization which is far more up her alley.  Mainly because they’re nice to people and they’re smart.  Plus you can wear jeans to work.  Also, you don’t have to deal with people who think they’re amazing but can’t figure out how to send an email from Outlook.  She showed me her interview schedule yesterday, and wouldn’t you know it, there was a name on there which I recognized.  As luck would have it, I used to work with one of her interviewers, Backdoor Lana.

Back when I was a baby working at Investments r Us she was in one of my very first training classes.  Her class was amazing!  Had a great time with them – mainly being inappropriate and getting drunk with them, and I developed friendships with a number of them.  One of them, Harley Davidson, was a bit of a bad boy with green eyes.  He rode a motorcycle and went to Sturgis.  He smoked weed.  He had longish hair.  He was a rebel, and he was hot.  While he was in the training class, he had a girlfriend and was off limits.  Months later he and his girlfriend broke up.  We started flirting over email, and talked about how we’d hook up if we ever ended up in the same state – he worked out of the West Coast office.

Then BLAM! I got sent out to the West Coast for 2 weeks for work.  We were gonna bone.

At that time his roommate was Backdoor Lana and they’d hook up every once in awhile.  Typically she was the one who would make the first move, and he’d go along with it because he was a dude and he wanted to get laid.  As she and I were friends she would tell me about hooking up with him and she said she knew we’d been emailing and she highly recommended a romp with him.  Thumbs up, she’d make herself scarce.

Um.  Weird, but whatever.

Long story short, we boned.

Next day she wanted to hear details, I didn’t tell her.  She asked me if we did anal.  “UH, NO!” was my response (or something like that because uh, no).  Then she went off for about 20 minutes about how much she loved it and how great he was at it and how she couldn’t sit down the next day, but she couldn’t get enough.  I passed on the butt love from him.  Even the next time I flew out there and boned him again.  He was gifted, that was for sure, but I’m not into backdoor loving.  Not my bag.

Shortly after the last time I was out there she announced to him that she was in love with him and she wanted for them to date exclusively.  He had always been straight with her about just being fuck buddies with her.  As you can imagine, it put all kinds of strain on their relationship.  He ended up moving out.  He met a girl.  He’s now married and has a few kids.

And now she’s a senior executive at this firm and she could potentially be my boss’s new boss.

How about that for a small world?

Also, Monsieur le Baguette and I are moving in together.

Protected: You, Ma’am, Are a Bitch

4 Apr

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A Shout Out (about anal) to Foxy Luv

15 Aug

The internet access we have at Widgets & Co. is on serious lock down.  I can’t tell you how often I see that menacing ACCESS DENIED message pop up on my screen.  We have zero access to Twitter, email, facebook, or any other site that’s halfway decent. You can blame my employment at Widgets & Co. for the decreased blogging efforts.  At Investments r Us I’d have my blog up all day long and felt free to write about all the idiots with whom I worked.  Now I’m afraid the IT Police will take me away and throw me into one of the rooms where the tables are bolted to the floor so no one can cause a scene.

On my first day the put the fear of God into me when they explained how strict their email use policy is.  You can be fired at anytime for any reason if someone accidentally sends you something inappropriate and you open it.  To this day I’ve been very cautious with my work email.  There’s no way on earth I’d send a message with the word anal (unless it was followed by ysis) to or from my work email.  Hell to the fucking no way!

But you know what I will do?  I will go ahead and send such a message to Foxy Luv at Investments r Us.  In my defense it was in reply to a message from another friend AND I didn’t realize it was going to Foxy’s message.  So, Foxy, when your ass gets fired for reading that message, I’ll be the first to tell you I’m sorry.  BUT on the flip side, now’s your chance to take up that career as a pole dancer you always wanted.

Here’s what the message said:

Don’t blame me!  I’m not the one that likes the anal fisting on a Saturday night.  That’s Foxy’s mom!  She’ll do anything for a dollar.  Am I right, Foxy?

P.S.  Your husband called, he wants you to pick up some more lube for tonight.  Looks like Anal Monday is back in play!

Work Marriage

15 Dec

Most of us have one: a work spouse. It’s the guy or girl you hang out with at work and just seem to click with. Sometimes there’s a little undercurrent of a little something-something, but for the most part they provide a type of moral support for you. You may turn to them to bitch about your job, or your loved ones, or to get them to hold the door for you or maybe carry heavy things. The point isn’t too hook up at work, in fact, these relationships are supposed to be platonic. Otherwise a big fat mess ensues and
then you have to go through work couples counseling and may end up getting a work divorce. Then you have to figure out who gets the pantry and who gets the copy room. It’s freaking messy.

For many of the years I worked at Investments r Us Disney was my work spouse. He was there when I needed him and was always willing to sexually harass me when I was feeling fat. He was good like that. He never ever made a pass at me, though I don’t doubt if I had made a pass at him he would have probably gone along with it. I also don’t doubt that if his wife knew about half the stuff we talked about, she’d probably kick his ass twice and make him cry.

I can’t seem to find a decent man to date, but there are a bevy of work spouses from which to choose from. Office Adonis thought he was my work husband, I played along. Mainly because I didn’t have the heart to tell him if he wanted to be my work spouse we could never ever hook up. And since we did, the work marriage is null and void. I just haven’t told him yet.

Folgers is my work husband at Widgets & Co. We hit it off from the get go. I knew he had a little thing for me and he’s over stepped some bounds, but he’s never touched me. Though, again, I don’t doubt if I gave him any indication I was into him he’d be all over me like white on rice.

So here’s my question: if I can find a work spouse, why on God’s green earth can’t I find a normal unattached dude to date? Where are they all freaking hiding?

Crack is Wack

1 Jul

We have all seen the damaging effects of crack. As a Gen Xer I clearly remember Nancy Reagan appearing on a very special Different Strokes telling the nation to “just say no.” For some people, like Whitney Houston, that message fell on deaf ears.

Seems like the cafeteria lady also decided to ignore Nancy’s little message. This morning she was totally high. It took her 10 minutes to ring up my coffee. First she ignored us for five minutes while she tried to staple some receipts. If I didn’t know better I would have thought that it was her first time using one. She then rang up my coffee at the wring price, stared at me credit card, then back at the machine. To fix the issue she turned off the register and restarted it. Then she rang it up again only this time at $950. Um, that’s a very expensive. She stared at the register, and tried again.

Yesterday she apparently fell while she was ringing up a lunch order. She then told my girlfriend to just help herself to some change since the cash drawer was over.

As much as I miss my daily cafe runs with Foxy and Disney and all of the wonderful mocking, there’s just nothing that can compete with a cracked out cafeteria lady.

Protected: Jumping Ship

23 Apr

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Protected: The Evidence

22 Apr

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