Archive for the 'Geinus wasted @ your library' Category

I’m not dead yet!  I swear you guys!

I’ve been very busy doing some very BIG things!

I don’t work at the library anymore.  I quit.

I quit because I GOT A FANCY LADY JOB!!!!!

Yes!  I did!

It’s my second week as a real, full time fancy copywriter and social media maven at a web development, PR, advertising and marketing company.  I work for my friend Gina who is so much fancier than your friend Gina I can’t even tell you.

Can you believe this shit?  It’s dreams coming true here, people.  DREAMS COMING TRUE.

And we had to hire a babysitter for Homeslice and guess what?

SHE DOES THE DISHES AND THE LAUNDRY AND OMG SHE DUSTED!

I have a maidlaundressnanny.

I just need a whore and all my dreams will have come true. All of them.

This  sure beats the Great Brain Tumor Crisis of Early 2011, I can tell you that much.

So yes.  I am a real writer with a real job and stuff now.  I kind of miss the library, but it’s more the people than the job.  That job was boring as hell.  Now I’m really busy all day and I get to wear cute clothes instead of the dingy corduroy pants I bought at Saver’s that I wore to the library. The people at my new job are super nice and everyone is so helpful and its totally okay to say “motherfucker” so obviously I fit right in.

Basically, I’m on cloud nine these days and I have to go now because I need some more fancy lady clothes and I have to buy them online because I’m sooooo busy being Queen.

I love you, Queefies!

OMG and PS:  I’m up on the Toy With Me’s talking about my vibrators again:

Je Joue Gi-Ki. Gumby For Your G-spot!

It’s always better to post something rather than nothing, so this is part one in a two part series I call

“What Crissy Does All Day, Pretty Much.”

Ya-ta-da-daaaaaaaa!!!!

This is Facebook chat, btw.

There’s a poll at the bottom.  You should do it or whatever.

Lynne: 5:27pm you still at work beeotch?

Me:5:28pm I am. I’m chatting with Deb and Rachel and you. I am popular. i was bored, but I’m not anymore.

Lynne: 5:28pm I’m chatting with deb too! You are fucking popular did you blog that comment thread?

Me: 5:29pm what a whore she is!

Lynne: 5:29pm she likes me better

Me: 5:29pm No. I didn’t blog it. I can’t blog from here. It doesn’t save. No she doesn’t.

Lynne: 5:29pm oh well fuck that noise tell elaine you have to go home early to blog it she does too she told me specifically that she likes me better she said “I like you better than Kristen”.

Me: 5:31pm She did not because she told me she likes me better than you.

Lynne: 5:32pm She told me she told you that but she said she was lying to you

Me: 5:32pm I gave her a breast pump. What did you give her? I thought so.

Lynne: 5:32pm I gave her a reason to live

Me: 5:32pm Hahahahahaha

Lynne: 5:32pm beat that bitch

Me: 5:33pm I can’t. You win.

Lynne: 5:33pm I always do what time you outa that hellhole?

Me: 5:33pm 6:00 I just asked deb straight out who she likes more.

Lynne: 5:33pm did you accomplish anything today? she will lie to you she told me she would

Me: 5:34pm hahahaha I accomplished nothing today as per my usual work ethic.

Lynne: 5:34pm she just told me she likes me better

Me: 5:34pm She’s also chatting with Joanne. maybe she likes her better than she likes both of us.

Lynne: 5:34pm she doesn’t, she likes me she just told me joanne must have defriended my ass because I don’t see her

Me: 5:35pm You use disgusting language. That’s why.

Lynne: 5:35pm oh, is that it? i defriended that person today because she supports some “one man, one woman” group

Me: 5:36pm Fuck her.

Lynne: 5:36pm i’m going to go have lesbian sex on her front lawn just for that

Me: 5:37pm Ooooo! I will help!

Lynne: 5:37pm ok, you can be my lesbian sex partner

Me: 5:37pm Or paint her car with a lezzie sex scene and write “slut mobile” on it.

Lynne: 5:37pm yes!

Me: 5:37pm i dare say the car painting is more painful You can look away from the sex on the lawn, but you have to deal with the car.

Lynne: 5:38pm we could paint the car and then have sex on it

Me: 5:38pm That would be pretty good.

Lynne: 5:39pm and yet chilly

Me: 5:39pm And have someone film it and send the film to her mom.

Lynne: 5:40pm photoshop her face on one of ours so her mom thinks shes a lez

Me: 5:41pm I think we have a plan…

Lynne: 5:41pm a caper even

Me: 5:41pm We’ve been looking for one of those!

Lynne: 5:41pm i know, finally! a lesbian caper even Sue is online too, we could drag her lesbian ass into this too

Me: 5:42pm she’s not even almost a lesbian.

Lynne: 5:42pm yea, i guess, plus she’s in Florida and we can’t wait

Me: 5:42pm no. this requires swift action.

Lynne: 5:43pm it’s almost an emergency

Me: 5:43pm hahahaha do I have to shave or are hairy lesbians better?

Lynne: 5:44pm hmmm im not sure about that google that maybe there’s a poll online about whether hairy lesbians are more popular oh, now jenn is online and i see joanne, she didn’t defriend me whew!

Me: 5:45pm I will pose this question to the internet.

Lynne: 5:45pm maybe you could do a poll on your blog do you have many lesbian followers? Besides Ash.

Me: 5:45pm I think I will!

Me: 5:46pm I have hippy lesbian followers. Remember the free birthers?

Lynne: 5:46pm oh yes. you offended them once as I recall

Me: 5:47pm I did, but not too badly. They know they’re weird.

Lynne: 5:47pm that’s important to be aware of your own dementedness

Me: 5:48pm I know all about my dementedness. That’s why I have Monica. I’m chatting with 4 people! This is a record!

Lynne: 5:49pm holy crap! you’re cheating on me with 3 people?

Me: 5:51pm You’re not woman enough for me. Plus, I’m a ho-bag.

Lynne: 5:51pm tell me something I don’t know

Me: 5:51pm I’m so popular tonight! Helen came down to loan me her new CD. (*editorial note: Helen is an adorable and sweet librarian everyone loves. She’s in her 70’s)

Lynne: 5:51pm System of a down?

Me: 5:51pm No. Insane Clown Posse.

Lynne: 5:52pm oh right. that’s her favorite

Me: 5:52pm She’s getting a pic of the band tattooed on her ass.

Lynne: 5:52pm She’s such a rebel.

Me: 5:54pm She secretly drives a motorcycle. You know all those stunts you see on TV where they jump cars and stuff? That’s her.

Lynne: 5:54pm I thought I recognized her once when she took her helmet off! I was right

Me: 5:54pm yes. 5:55pm I admire her 5:55pm She totally looks like Hilda that muppet.

Lynne: 5:55pm totally

Me: 5:55pm http://muppet.wikia.com/wiki/Hilda I showed it to her once. She didn’t laugh.

Lynne: 5:55pm LOL!!!! She does look like her

Me: 5:56pm She’s adorable. It’s like they made the puppet to look like her.

Lynne: 5:56pm She didn’t appreciate that?

Me: 5:56pm yes and no.

Lynne: 5:57pm I wish the would make a muppet of me. its a dream of mine

Me: 5:57pm hahahahaha I want to have my own barbie.

Lynne: 5:57pm that would be nice too!

Me: 5:57pm it would wear schlubby library clothes and have bags under her eyes

Lynne: 5:58pm hahahahahaha

Me:5:58pm and her boobs would leak. And she’d come with a huge bag of tampons

Lynne: 5:58pm that would be a big seller! Mine would come with slim fast and an office chair. She’d get randomly fat and skinny she’d also come with cake maybe a bonus easy bake oven

Me: 5:59pm Instead of growing hair, she’d have a growing ass.

Me: 6:00pm I just posted it as my facebook status.

Lynne: 6:00pm hahahaha this chat is pretty fucking funny

Me: 6:01pm We are always funny. What are you even talking about?

Lynne: 6:01pm I don’t know, I lost my mind

Me: 6:01pm I think we’re tired.

So basically what this conversation reveals are two very important questions:

1.

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2. If you were a Barbie, what accessories would you come with?

Here’s mine as illustrated by my friend, The Other Kristin:

PS: Tomorrow we’ll see Mister get involved in the action.  That’s right.  It’s a threesome just like the Three Stooges except with better haircuts and bigger boobs.

Shhhhh!

Lynne and I are going on a stakeout. We spent all day planning it yesterday.

This is what we’re wearing:

Except we got so excited planning it, we forgot why we were going on a stakeout. I doesn’t really matter though because just getting a chance to wear some pretty kick ass outfits is justification in and of itself as far as I’m concerned. And we can hide in the bushes and then, at that critical moment, we can jump out and shout “AH-HA!!!”

That’d be cool.

Also, we’ll bring snacks like Ring-Dings and Twinkies so we have them in case we get hungry because if you leave a stakeout to go do drive through you could miss the thing you’re staking out and then you’re fucked.

Maybe we’ll just pick some random person’s house and just go hide in their bushes. It would be a shame to waste our outfits and delicious snackfoods.

Let’s see…what else did I want to tell you guys?

Oh!

I’m trying to find a babysitter for Homeslice for one day a week and it’s harder than it seems, you guys.

Remember the scene from Mrs.Doubtfire where Daniel calls Miranda and does all the voices to scare the shit out of her?

That’s EXACTLY what it’s like!

They’re all either

Too religious: One lady gave me her entire religious history and then was just like, “oh, and I love children!” I can’t have her turning Homeslice into a CATHOLIC. “Ev-ry sperm is sa-cred, ev-ry sperm is great, if a sperm is wa-st-ed, God gets quite i-rate” is not my favorite nursery rhyme.  NEXT!

Too illiterate:  If you don’t know the diff. between your and you’re then ur not smart enough to take care of my kid.  Is it too much to ask for some basic literacy skills?  Yes.  Yes it is.

Too young and stupid:  Your profile pic should not be of you making SEXYFACE with your cleavage hanging out. Save that shit for MySpace, kay sweetie? I cannot stress this enough.  Also, see above re: your/you’re.

Too foreign:  You know how I feel about  foreign people, right? Too much yucky white guilt when I have to shout en espanol at my nanny. No GRACIAS!

So maybe I won’t be getting a NEW NANNY like Mrs. Fancypants after all.

I found the perfect lady on a babysitter finder website thingy.  She’s 58, has 10 grandchildren, has been foster mother to 14 kids and won Foster Mother of the Year in 2007. I want her! But she’s not getting back to me because obviously she’s also a cunt. I spent $30 to get her email address, the least she could do is tell me to fuck off so I can stop fantasizing about Mrs. Doubtfire babysitting my kid.

HOLY SHIT!

THAT’S WHO WE CAN STAKEOUT!

And we can jump out of the bushes at her and hold up Homeslice and shout “why don’t you want to take care of my baby??”

Wait.

I just remembered who we’re really staking out. We’re supposed to stakeout the Facilities Manager over at Schmuckytown Pubic. She’s got men coming and going all day long and we think she’s running a whorehouse out of the basement. She’s such the type, too.

Homeslice pretty much says “cup” for everything and so Mister thinks we should have taught her “smurf” because it can describe anything and it wouldn’t make people look around for cup when what she really wants is something else entirely. It happens a lot. It’s kind of a problem.  Especially when the closest cup contains vodka and you give it to her before you realize.

It only happened twice, SHUT UP SHE’S FINE.

At least with “smurf” it could mean anything and we can keep guessing until we get it right and perhaps not alcohol poison her.

Also, I’ve been trying to sell some baby crap forfuckingever and nobody wants it, so I posted this ad on Craigslist and the only people emailing me are people saying I’m funny and that they’re sorry they don’t want my crap. The least they could do is flag it for “Best Of” because if I can’t sell my baby crap, I could at least become famous on Craigslist. (That was a hint, people. Go forth and do.)

Aaaannnddd it’s a TOY WITH ME DAY! It’s about smurfy smurfs smurfing. Enjoy!

Why is love and sex for the disabled such a taboo subject?

Remember how Lynne and I had an eecards fight about the gayness of Jazzercise vs tap class, and then she challenged me to a gay-off?

Well, I finally went to her Jazzercise class because Pole Dancing is over now, thank Jesus, and you know what?

It’s completely gay and I love it because gay is fun. I grapevined and chassed, arabesqued and some other stuff I forgot the name of, but it was fun and I may have caught a little bit of The Gay because I wanted to touch Lynne’s sweaty bum the whole time.

And after class, the teacher said I “looked great out there” and can I just tell you how good that felt? Because I got nary a word of encouragement from the pole dancing teacher, and I’m the kind of student who will bust her head open just for a “well done! Excellent head busting open!” because I’m a nerd like that.   When I don’t get my teacher approval, I’m a sad kitten.

(Do yourself a solid and never, ever search Google images for “sad kitten.” You’ll want to kill yourself. Twice.)

Anyway, during our last class, and this is totally my fault because I’m an asshole for moisturizing before class which is the #1 thing you DO NOT do before pole dancing class, she kept looking back and saying “after 6 weeks of class you SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THIS!” and I wanted to shout ” But I CAN! I CAN DO IT!” but I didn’t.  I was too embarrassed to admit that I broke rule #1  and that I was just too slippery to do any of the moves.  Every time I tried to jump up and hold myself on the pole, I’d just go “ssssssswwwwwwwwwwwweeeee” right down.

That pole is ruined forever now.

It’s been Crissy’d.

It’s forever going to be known as “the bad pole” because I don’t think they’ll ever get the lotion off of it. I thought of switching poles, but I didn’t want to ruin all of them, so I chose to sort of stand there and look like a dink  and not get the teacher’s approval I so desperately wanted.

But then Jazzercise Lady gave me the thumbs up and I was happy.

So I’m going to take Jazzercise classes, I think.

I still want tap shoes so badly it hurts, you guys.

Tap shoes.

Swoon.

Lynne won’t go to tap class with me because she say’s it’s stupid.  Maybe I can go with Girlfriend.  She doesn’t think it’s stupid.

Oh wait.

Yes she does.

I don’t care what anybody says.  Tap is cool.  There were almost fisticuffs yesterday at work between Lynne and me because she just won’t admit that tap is completely awesome.

I fully intend to prove how wrong she is as soon as I find an adult beginner’s tap class which is very difficult to do for some reason.  It must be that the Awesomeness Of Tap is intimidating for some people.

PS: This week on the Toy with Mes I have a bunch of random news/wtf? products for you! Random Awesome Stuff in My Inbox

PSS: Starting tomorrow,  we will test out a little idea I had.  Girlfriend is going to have an advice column called “Ask Girlfriend” where you write to her with your non-drug/gambling/hooker problems, and she gives you her advice.  I don’t know if this will work or not, but we’ll give it a whirl.  I just need your questions or this bus ain’t goin’ nowhere.

crissy@crissyspage.com

The other day at work I got to meet Edward and Jacob and stupid annoying Bella!

They stopped by Schmuckytown Pubic because they knew that’s where I’d be.

Edward was very friendly and he kept telling me he really, really wanted to make out with me but he was afraid I’d hurt him because he heard I’m a pole dancer now and everyone knows they’re fucking badass (you see those bruises on my leg?  That’s how tough I am now.  I’m practically Chuck Norris), and I promised him I’d be gentle, but he remained steadfast in his decision and just stood there making his sexyface.

And then stupid Bella started gettin’ all up in my grill cuz I was touching her man on his naughtypenis and so I kicked her in the face

and moved on to her other man, Jacob.

He’s pretty cute, I think.

He’s more muscle-y than Edward, but I’m still on Team Edward and not so much Team Jacob mostly because vampires make me look tanned and werewolves do not.

See?

I’m downright exotic.

But even though I touched Edward on his naughtypenis and he was all “I’m in love with you, Crissy!  Bella is an idiot!” I did stop because I honestly cannot understand why anyone would prefer Twilight to True Blood/Southern Vampire Mysteries (unless you’re in 6th grade and your parents won’t let you watch True Blood and then maybe I understand).

I think Eric and I make a better couple.  I’ll take a 1,000 year old Viking GOD who owns a BAR over some silly high school boy and his Volvo any day.

(Note to Bill Compton: You can have Sookie.  I got this.)

Today we’re talking about Girlfriend’s graduation.

But first you have to look at this picture of Homeslice on her birthday:

“das right bitches.  I’s eatin’ some cake. Whachu doin’?”

And then Saturday was the graduation and it was at 10am at the Schmuckytown Pubic Library and it rained which meant that it would be inside.  Here is the sweaty line of sweaty people. See if you can pick out the EPCs–sort of like Where’s Waldo? only with Escalade Pajama Cunts instead of you know, Waldo.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here because before we got there, there was all kinds of kerfuffles because I am the one in our family who has to get everyone clean, dressed, fed, packed, and ready to go and Mister kind of just wanders around like there’s nothing going on and he doesn’t know what he’s wearing and he doesn’t know we’re leaving or what time the thing is even though I told him 55 times per minute and he’s polishing camera lenses and having a sip of juice and I’m apoplectic (Holla Melissa Lion!) and sitting in the car with the kids and he’s still in the house looking for whateverthefuckhelooksfor and it’s 9:36 and we still have to pick up my mom and one day I’m going to have a stroke trying to get out of the house on time.

But we got there eventually and waited in that there line you saw.

Do you guys remember how Girlfriend felt about dance class?

Well, how do we think she felt about being paraded around in front of all those people in that great big line up there?

Yeah.

That Guy on the Left looks like he’s getting ready to punch her in the face, “Hulk, ANGRY!” Seriously, his face is doing something weird there, like he’s about to morph into something wicked fucked up.

And she wanted me to save her but her teacher put her in a headlock kept her walking the line:

I didn’t save her because she has to learn how to not be such a pussy, amiright?

Girlfriend needs to sack up and deal.

No.

And yes, but no.

She had a big dance number to perform and she had to at least try to get over The Pussyitis.

Or, you know, not.

They were supposed to be doing We Go Together from Grease, but no.

They just…no.

A couple of them did a few little things toward the end there, but for the most part they all just stood there like they had just downed a bunch of Quaaludes.

Nobody says Quaalude anymore. I’m bringin’ it back. You heard me.

And it was just as well because I kept having emotions and I sort of lost it when they sang When a Child is Born in sign language. It was fucking beautiful, okay? And then again when they did a little ballet scarf dance thing to Time to Say Goodbye.

Right? Are you kidding me?

Fucking Satan would have lost his shit, I’m telling you. Even That Guy on the Left was a little misty. I totally caught him “HULK, sad.”

But now I have an official Graduate of Preschool.

That’s the school principal, Mrs. Jeannie. Girlfriend adores her, but I still had to go up with her to get her diploma because she was so not going up there by herself even after a pep talk from her teachers. She was just like, “fuck that noise, you bitches are crazy.” But she didn’t say that.

And we just found out that they passed a vote for all day kindergarten this fall. I’m the only person I know who’s not overjoyed.

SHE’S JUST A BABY DON’T TAKE MY BABY!

I’m not ready for Kindergarten, Queefies.

PS: Today is a Toy with Me day. In a rare serious moment, I’m telling a story of trauma that I’ve never told you guys before. You should come and read it: Catcalling–Creepy or a Compliment?

I’ve been working hard this week, you guys. Yesterday I gave myself a pedicure, washed and hung out two loads of laundry, and folded three loads, emptied and re-loaded the dishwasher, picked up toys, packed lunches, made dinner, washed my kitchen floor, emptied trash cans, watered all my outside plants, and then brought the girls to work with me at noon so I could get an early start before Mister came to pick them up so I could work until 8.

I’m fucking tired. In fact, my tired has tired on it.

So while I was at work, the girls were fine and they were pretty quiet and everything except for the time when Girlfriend said “douchebag” and my friend Celina and I both gasped at the same time and it embarrassed her and she dove under my desk and cried very loudly.

I had to beg her to come out. She’s usually the language police, but not this time.

Girlfriend, not Celina.

But that wasn’t the weird thing that happened.

The weird thing happened when Homeslice pooped her diaper and I realized that I didn’t have a spare with me, so I grabbed a diaper wipe and decided to reach into the back and pull the poop out because the kid freaking stank. Stunk? Stinked? She smelled.

And so I waited until nobody was around and I made my move. I dug into the back of her diaper and I pulled out the poop, wiping her bum as I went and just as I was pulling my hand out of the diaper, who walks though but the director on her way out to lunch.

She’s pretty cool about allowing us to bring our kids in every so often, for a short time as long as they’re quiet and don’t make a mess,and there I was standing there in a field of puzzle pieces and mashed cheerios with a hand full of diaper shit while she cooed at Homeslice and talked to Girlfriend all about her birthday.

It felt like forever, you guys. I don’t think she noticed that I had a hand full of shit, but what if she had?

I don’t really have an ending to this story.

So my friend Jessica, who is a pastry genius (seriously, she along with my other friend Valerie sent me a chocolate balsamic cheesecake for my birthday last year and it was to die for. You can check out Jessica’s goodies here) said that what I needed to do was to pipe some frosting around the outside edge of the bottom cake layer to make like a frosting wall thingy so that when I frosted the top, it would hold the splooshy stuff in.

WHY DIDN’T THE DIRECTIONS SAY TO MAKE A FROSTING WALL THINGY, JESSICA?

This is excellent news because Mister’s real birthday is this coming Sunday and so I get another chance to fuck it up in some other way. I’m very excited, so be sure to look for another fascinating cake update next week.

I might not do lemon buttercream layer cake this time though. I might do something daring like…an unfrosted vanilla sheet cake. Maybe I’ll let Girlfriend toss a few sprinkles on there to make it fancy.

Aaaaaand let’s see…Princess Twattington is up to her old tricks but I avoided the whole mess and ate at my desk like I said I would. Also, I may or may not be coming down with a cold and so I may or may not have licked the rim of her coffee cup.

Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.

Maybe I should be win an award for being the most passive aggressive person ever.

Oh, and I’m probably going to be fired pretty soon because I write about work sometimes, and I didn’t know this until a couple of people emailed me about it, but this here little blog has been written about in a real book about libraries and librarians:

It’s getting a lot of buzz and I even saw an interview with the author on Salon.com, and there’s a copy of it sitting on my boss’s desk right now, so yeah. It’s only a matter of time. I’m on page 64 in the section about poop.

I’m very proud, obviously.

And in other, more dangerous news, I think my Fed Ex guy hates me. Or my mail. Or me AND my mail because yesterday I got a package that I ordered eons ago and it was kind of fucked up. It was in a new box with a filthy scrap of the old box taped onto it. It was so damaged that you couldn’t even read my address anymore, but somebody knew where it was going because it got to me. Somebody purposely beat the hell out of my box of baby clothes from Kohl’s in an attempt to send me a warning.

I’m next probably.

This is why I prefer UPS. The delivery guy’s knees look cute in the summer uniform and nobody that cute would ever kick a mommy librarian blogger’s ass.

PS: Remember that scene from The Jerk? “It’s these CANS! HE HATES THESE CANS!!”

PSS: We have a new pet! My dad and stepmother got Girlfriend a baby bunny without my permission! Yay! (makes a gun with her hand, shoots herself in the head) Let me introduce to you the newest member of the Crissy family, Sally the Baby Bunny:

Stop laughing at me, you motherfuckers.

PSSS: It’s a Toy with Me day today. It’s all about Japanese toilet rituals because it is. Flush Your Husband Down the Toilet!

First, I should probably address the concerned Queefie emails I’ve been getting about the flooding here.  The Crissys have emerged unscathed, thanks for asking.  Our basement is dry, our street is dry, we’re dry. Getting to work is harder for both me and Mister though because our normal routes are flooded, and so it takes us each like 20 minutes instead of 10 to get to work.  OH, THE HARDSHIP!  I haven’t been able to see my Vinny over at the deli because the Stop & Shop is underwater.  That’s okay though because absence makes the heart grow fonder and that was a ghetto Stop & Shop anyway.  They didn’t really even have an organic section.

I know.  WTF?

Ghetto.

But enough about boring stuff like states of emergency and disasters because apparently, the lunchroom at work has it out for both  me and The Lunchist. I’m having issues in there too.

I eat dinner at my desk now because there’s this annoying person who likes to take her dinner break at the same time as I do.  We’ll call her Princess Twattington because that is not her name. She’s all of 16 or 17 and is but a lowly library page who puts the books back on the shelves.  That’s right Queefies, librarians have people for that. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t do it themselves.  Library pages are also the people who have to clean the poopie off the books when somebody decides to make a whole ‘nuther kind of deposit in the book drop.  I pray Miss Twattington is on duty the next time it happens because the experience will be good for her.

Anyway, Miss Twattington has a little bit of a problem understanding lunch room etiquette.  For example, if I am such an asshole as to get to the lunch room first and put my humble little frozen Amy’s dinner in the microwave, and she  happens to walk in and find the microwave is taken for the moment, she stands in front of it with her dinner in her hand and taps her little toe waiting for the thing to beep, and as soon as it does, she punches the button to open the door and shouts “WHOSE DINNER IS THIS?”  in her most annoyed princess voice and she takes the dinner out and throws it on the counter.  You can forget about checking to see if your dinner is hot enough because Miss Twattington already has her stuff in the microwave before you can even get over there.

She doesn’t do this to only me. She pulled my boss’s dinner out and put it in front of her on the table.  My boss is not a woman to be trifled with.  I’m surprised she let Miss Twattington keep her face, to be honest.

While other people may be able to tolerate Miss Twattington’s behavior, I have a hard time with it and I’ve come pretty close to punching her dead in the face because that precious 30 minutes in the lunch room is quite often the only peace and quiet I get all week.  It’s the only time I have to sit with a People magazine or an InStyle or a Pottery Barn catalog or whatever and just eat my sad little dinner without having to get up a hundred times to cater to some kids.  And then I come to work and I have to deal with this crap from somebody else’s kid?

I call bullshit on that.

And before you think I’m overreacting, there’s more.

There are 5 other chairs at the table and she chooses the one RIGHTNEXTOME and practically sits in my lap. I’ve tried spreading my stuff out so she’d choose another chair, but NO.  She totally invades my space and puts her stuff down ON TOP OF my stuff and then, and this is the most annoying thing for me, she chews like a cow and loudly smacks her lips and BELCHES while she eats.

I do not like to have my space invaded and I do not like eating noises, Queefies.

Just ask Mister.  If people get too close to me, I move.  If people are gross when they eat,  I’ll take my dinner and eat it somewhere else because it makes me want to stab them in the eye with a fork.

And then if I’m at the sink washing my dishes, she literally puts her hands in front of me and starts washing her dishes as if I wasn’t already there!

And sadly for Miss Twattington, the lunchroom is not the only place where her etiquette skills are lacking.  I’ve had to jump out of her path so she wouldn’t slam into me because she was clearly not planning on going around me.   She’s twice my size.  It would hurt if she slammed into me.  I’ve been looking at books on a cart and she’s literally stepped in front of me and taken them away!  She has pushed some of my co-workers out of her way, and when an office door is closed, she just opens it without knocking and walks on in.

Pretty much everyone is annoyed by her rude behavior, and I have been elected to be the one who puts Princess Twattington in her place, but I don’t think I’m going to.

I think I’m going to wait for the girls in her college dorm to do it.  They’ll be far more cruel and punishing than I could ever be and so for now, I’m going to eat at my desk and avoid contact with her because really?

I’ve got my own princesses to discipline.  Speaking of, Girlfriend just shoved poor little Homeslice over and made her do a faceplant into a hardcover book she was looking at.

I’ve got to go kick some ass.

So I get to work today and The Lunchist (remember The Lunchist from the beginning of December when somebody squished her sandwich and she freaked out and I wrote a blog post that was supposed to be funny but then the blog turned into a lynch mob full of people’s latent office aggressions and we threatened to set poor Lunchist on fire and I had to stop the angry pitchfork wielding mob because Lunchist is actually my friend and I was only kidding? Say “friend” just like Ricki’s mom from Better Off Dead because that’s how I’m saying it in my head. Frrriend. Frrriend.) was standing in the breakroom, agog, because somebody threw her lunch, uneaten, in the trashcan. This is very bad because a short time ago, somebody ATE The Lunchist’s sandwich and she found the baggie with little turkey and lettuce remnants in the trash.

The only thing we can figure is that somebody wants to kill The Lunchist and is sending her a very passive aggressive message by destroying her innocent little diet-friendly sandwiches. Passive aggressive, that is, until the day The Lunchist turns up dead! because some crazed vigilante librarian has it out for her.

OR!

This person has something against those Arnold Sandwich Thins things and this is just a random act of sandwich violence against the Arnold things and it has nothing to do with The Lunchist at all.

At this point, we just don’t know. There’s no clear evidence on anything just yet.

Dun-dun-dunnnn.

I have to go now because we are very busy cross-referencing schedules and break times to try and figure out who this crazy lunatic must be. It’s always the normal people you have to worry about and the problem with this place is that they’re ALL normal people!

Huhuhuhuhu. They give me the willies.

So I think we’re going to need to get Columbo on this ASAP. If anyone has Peter Falk’s phone number could you please give him the 411 and then send him over here right away? We’re also going to need the whole forensics team to come down with him.

OMG, and BONES! Get BONES over here! And make sure Boreanaz is with her.

Huhuhuhuhu. He gives me the willies, too.

IN MY PANTS!