Tag Archives: annoying

Asking for a friend

14 Jun

Let me throw a scenario out there and you tell me your thoughts.

So I have this friend who has a boyfriend she’s been seeing for a few months.  Let’s call him Mister the Bread.  Typically when she and Mister the Bread hang out, they have multi-day dates.  Every other weekend.  This weekend he’s supposed to visit her, however, as it turns out he has some chest infection.  He’s been sick for a few weeks.  The conversations the last week have basically been about how he’s sleepy and is going to go and take a nap or what he should watch on TV while he lays in bed.  She’s annoyed.  They decide to postpone the visit and see how he feels tomorrow.  He wakes up from his nap and calls her.  He happens to mention he now has his kids tomorrow night which means he’s not going to visit her at all.  He says his medicine has kicked in and he’s getting sleepy again.  Because he has taken medicine with codeine, which he doesn’t need, just before he called her.  She tells him to go and take a nap.

Her plans for the evening are now wide open.

And let’s say this friend has kept in touch with someone she boned.  We’ll call him #3.  Their “relationship” transitioned easily into friendship and all of the insanely spicy messages they used to send each other were immediately stopped when she started seeing Mister the Bread.  Anyway, he takes himself out to movie dates all the time.  Learning they’re both free this evening they decide they’re going to meet up at the movie theater to see an action film.  Platonic date – everyone pays for themselves, no touching.  There’s no romancing.  She’s not even going to wear mascara or dress like she’s on a date, she’ll frump it up a bit.  This seems like a totally awesome idea, right?

On a scale of 1 to bad idea, how do you rate this scenario?

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Ghost

3 Mar

I have so many questions for you today. Is it called ghosting when someone you’re “dating” disappears because you’re left haunted by all of their nonsense?  Is that why?  It’s the ghost of all of the conversations and trying to figure out all of the clues?

Here’s another question for you: why hasn’t #4 texted me??  The last exchange we had was on Wednesday night.  Crickets on Thursday and Friday.  That’s a pretty loud and clear message from him.  Got it.  Fine (not really).  Look, we all knew he was a douche, and this is typical behavior for a douche bag.

I guess I thought since we had established some time of rapport he’d give me the fucking courtesy of telling me if he didn’t want to pursue anything.  He was really direct before.  So what gives?  Had it been 1 date and he pulled out, totally get it.  We were a month into whatever – texts every damn day.  Then POOF! he disappeared.  Lesson learned: don’t do that to someone.  I’m glad that I had the decency to tell The Tutor that I was out.

But #4 and I  weren’t going to date.  We drew some lines in the sand – “no dating” we said.  “Friends with benefits,” we agreed.  I was very careful to listen to the words he said, I repeated them back to him.  I understood what he was looking (or not looking) for.  Thought we were on the same page. Tuesday night was fun.  He said as much that night and the next night.  Which is what he said he was looking for, fun.

So what the fuck happened?  Me not understand.

I don’t understand men.  They’re stupid.  And so are women.  We spend an inordinate amount of time over analyzing all kinds of stupid nonsense.  Frankly, there are better ways we could spend our time, like watching Netflix, hanging out with our friends and having pillow fights, braiding our hair, doing our nails, overthrowing the patriarchy, fighting to close the wage gap, really anything is better than wasting a second thinking about someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Guess what?  I’m a god damned chick and I don’t know how to turn my brain off.  I know #4 is way too much in his head.  He’s lost in his own emotional baggage which is why he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.  The second the lights go off in my room and it’s time to go to bed my brain goes into overdrive and it’s time to analyze every little thing that happened leading up to, during, and after Tuesday night’s shenanigans.  The muscles in my body are still sore (validating I’m totally out of shape).  If by some miracle I’ve shut off my brain, as soon as I move in bed and I feel the soreness, it makes me think thoughts all over again.  It’s so annoying!

There’s a tiny (or not so tiny) part of me that thinks, “you weren’t enough.”  I’m shutting that shit down pretty quickly.  Or trying to.  For the most part I’m doing pretty well with attempting to distract myself with other dates.  The hard part is that since I have so many questions it’s hard to let go of wanting the answers.

I just want to understand.

And I want him to message me so that we can bone.

My boss told me I should text him “how was your trip?” Then when he responds asking, “what trip?” I should say, “the one in your head.”  I’ve thought about texting him to get out of his own head, remind him it was just a hook up and he knows how to find me.  I’ve thought of a dozen scenarios and clever text messages I could send to hook him back in.  Not going to happen.  I will not text him.  I’ve deleted all of his text messages* and his number from my phone.  We’re unmatched from Tinder.  If he contacts me I’m going to tell him to go fuck himself.**

*Except maybe the texts that popped up on my computer because some of the racy ones were pretty good.
**Or hook up with him again.

I hate everything about you

1 Mar

I have a pretty high tolerance for stupidity and douche baggery, but there comes a time when if you hit the threshold I will dive across the table and cut you.  At least in my mind I will.

There’s a woman who I work with who I’m constantly cutting with my imaginary knife.  A very sharp imaginary knife.  Believe it or not, I have kind of an important job.  People listen to me at work.  I actually run an entire office.  I know, I know, it’s crazy to think that yours truly is capable of doing something other than fucking up at dating.  I even get to manage some pretty high profile projects.  Sometimes, there are idiots on those project teams.  This year I was “rewarded” with a frumpy ass woman who is inflexible and annoying.  She’s running the communications stream of the project and when she opens her mouth or sends me an email I feel my blood start to boil.

Monday there was a big announcement about the project to the entire division.  She fucked it up.  Twice.  Twice.  How do you fuck up an announcement twice on the same day?  I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her what her strategy was.  Other than being an imbecile it requires some pretty major stupidity to fuck up an announcement TWICE IN ONE FUCKING DAY!

The big project is kicking off later this month and it includes a huge kick off event for all of our division.  At that event there will be slides while the big mucky muck presenters are speaking.  Slides that she’s responsible for handling, because she is in COMMUNICATIONS.  We get the slides from the speakers and it’s her FUCKING JOB to put the damn deck thing together.  You’d figure someone in COMMUNICATIONS would know how to do that.  Let me paint the picture.  You are a lowly weasel at the bottom of the hierarchy – the most junior member of a big working team, a position that you’ve been given as a stretch opportunity.  You’re asking the Managing Director of a division, plus 2 of his direct reports – who are executives – to put together slides.  And you give them 48 hours.  Listen, I’m not sure where you’ve worked before, but let me go ahead and tell you that’s not how it works.  You don’t give the HEAD OF THE DIVISION 2 days for slides because you want everything in advance.  The way it works is you wait until he has someone on his staff put them together and then you scramble at the last minute to get it done.

This afternoon in the meeting she found out that she wouldn’t have the slides by tomorrow.  Which is hilarious because the Managing Director just found out today that we would need his slides.  She went off on how she didn’t know if our vendor would be able to put them together in time, and oh, by the way, she would not be able to work the weekend before the event.  In my mind, I dove across the table and I cut her.  Seriously?  Are you kidding me.

So, I got pissed.  And I do not often get pissed at work.  So I said to her, “What’s your back up plan?” with an angry tone, in front of the entire team.  She didn’t have one.  And, according to her, no one on the COMMUNICATIONS TEAM knows how to put a power point slide deck together.  Um, what?  Excuse me?  Are you kidding me?  No one on a COMMUNICATIONS TEAM knows how to put together a slide deck?  You have got to be kidding me.  So she went on about something else and I halted the meeting and said to everyone, “I have a really hard time accepting that between this entire team we’re not able to put together a slide deck.”

I hope she falls down the stairs, twists her ankle, and can never come back to work.

I hate all her frumpy clothes almost as much as I hate her face.

Last I checked, you weren’t my boss

8 Feb

Know what’s “amazing”? And by “amazing” I mean “worthy of me punching someone in the mouth.” Being told how to do my job by someone who barely knows how to do their own job.  I call that, “being an asshole.”

I’m good at my job.  People enjoy my work.  Big mucky muck leaders call me to help them figure out how to do their jobs.  So when someone who does internal communications starts questioning what I’m doing, it doesn’t make me so happy.  This isn’t someone who is a go getter, role model, high performer.  This is someone in COMMUNICATIONS who sends out emails to the entire organization with grammatical errors, incorrect attachments, and broken links.  So you’ll excuse me if I tell him to go and suck on a big bag of dicks.

Shut your pie hole and learn how to write a email.  How about that for some advice?

In unrelated news, I think I’m PMSing.

Step Up

7 Dec

Part of the reason my ass is so fat is that I suffer from an affliction that many Americans suffer from: laziness.  Why walk 3 blocks when you can drive?  Why get out of the car at the Starbucks when you can sit in your car an extra 20 minutes to order your venti whole milk extra whip hot cocoa latte frappuccino latte?  Why climb 2 fights of stairs when there’s an elevator?  Why cook when you can order fried chicken and have it delivered via Uber Eats?

I’m busy.  I have things to do.  I have cookies to eat.  And my Netflix queue isn’t going to watch itself. I don’t have time for fitness, and health, and that shit.

I live a mile from work and can’t be bothered to walk.  Instead I drive everyday, and park in the garage like my coworkers.  Walk up the 5 flights of stairs from the garage to the lobby?  Ha!  No way.  Fuck that for a joke.  I don’t bother entertaining walking from the lobby up the 3 flights of steps to my office.  In the elevator I go with all the other overweight folks who should cut back on carbs and try to get in 10,000 steps instead of just 5,000.  My big step intake is walking from the garage elevator to the office elevator.  62 steps.  Round trip.

So, you can imagine my dismay when the garage elevator broke yesterday.  I was riding up with a coworker when we started hearing lots of grinding.  The kind of grinding you don’t ever want to hear on an elevator.  20 minutes later a message was sent to all staff that the elevator was closed for repairs.  Closed for weeks until the needed part was ordered and arrived.

Great.  That means walking up 5 flights of stairs every morning.  Better not forget anything in my car because I’m not going back down to get it.

Even better?  Today our other elevator broke.  And we have no idea when that one is going to get repaired because we can’t get a fucking call back from our maintenance office.

Awesome.  Really fucking great.  8 fucking flights of stairs every god damned morning.

To add insult to injury you need to swipe in to use access our floor from the stairwell.  And guess whose office is immediately next to the stairwell.  Yup.  That would be mine.  I’ve already opened the door eleventy twelve times because the receptionist is too busy gabbing on the fucking phone.  I already got an earful from the Fed Ex dude that had to run up and down the stairs because he had too much to be able to carry in one load.

On the bright side I guess it means that I can shove a few extra Christmas cookies down my throat.

 

‘Merica

30 Apr

This. This right here is why we’re all fat in America and why the world hates us.


What the double fuck? And why do we need this? And who is going to want to eat this? Other than stoners, drunk college students, people who lose bets, and a handful of people obsessed with Funyons.

Seriously. Who thought that up? Listen, I like processed food too, but there’s got to be a limit at some point. We can’t be turning EVERYTHING into a taco shell and filling it with crap. And when you decide to alter the taco, there are rules. First and foremost let’s talk about taco shells. Real Mexicans don’t eat taco shells. We, the inventors of the taco, know the real way to eat tacos involves a corn or flour tortilla (one that is NEVER heated in a microwave)

I mean really, let’s deconstruct this. You are shoving a hamburger patty into a funyon taco shell and smothering it ketchup. No. No, you can’t do that. That is a crime against tacos. It is against all things that are good and holy to put ketchup in a taco. You might as well put ketchup on cereal.  No. YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!

I’m ashamed to be American right now.

Sometimes I think I’m Garfield

29 Jun

I read the comics as a child.  What kid wasn’t into it?  Remember those days when Sunday papers had the big color comics spread.  I clearly remember running outside, leaving a paper trail of the stupid business and world news sections on the floor, and whipping open the comics section to find out the latest shenanigans that Calvin & Hobbs, Brunhilda, Mother Goose, and sometimes even Marmaduke were up to.

Then there was Garfield.  You remember him, right?  The overweight orange tabby cat who sassed his owner, harassed his fellow pet-roommate (Odie), and ate just about anything they put in front of him?  Then at some points – for some ungodly reason – they made a movie about him starring Jennifer Love Hewitt.  No shock that it was a total bomb.  No es bueno.

While I didn’t necessarily rush to read Garfield,  I could appreciate his wit, his laziness, his torture of Odie.  He was a bit of a dick really.  I mean, really, if you think about it, he was a prick.  I’d venture to say that he was the original grumpy cat. As I’ve grown into an adult, I reflect on how right Garfield was about how absolutely wretched Mondays are.

There is no greater evil on this Earth than a Monday morning.  Without a doubt I will wake up angry, bitter, sad, and frustrated – all at the same time.  This morning, for instance, the first think I said out loud was, “Fuck this,” as soon as the alarm went off.  Do you have any idea how sad it is to wake up alone in your house and have the first words out of your mouth – essentially spoken to the empty house – be “fuck this”?  That’s not cute.  Not cute.  I picture the day when one day some man is laying next to me on a Monday morning, the alarm goes off, and he wakes up to me saying, “Fuck this”.  What will he do?

I’m getting ahead of myself.  The likelihood of that happening is slim to none, especially if we consider my track record for sleeping ALONE every night for the last zillion billion years.

How’d we get on this topic?  Mondays, right…

Earlier this year I started watching Game of Thrones.  The further I got into it, and the more that King Joffrey (the most vile human being ever) was featured in the show, it became clear to me that Monday’s are to the world what King Joffrey is to Game of Thrones.  He is as ugly on the outside as he is on the inside.

Those of you who have seen the show know exactly what this means.  For those of you who don’t watch it, you should – and then you’ll see that I’m totes right.