-OR- How I Got My Gunt
Okay so yesterday concluded Crissy’s Cat Mid-Week Extravaganza.
Those of you who think it was wrong to get my cat loaded will be pleased to know that he got his revenge on us on Wednesday night when he ate the seedling vegetables that were in my greenhouse window in the kitchen. I came downstairs for my morning yoga torture festival to find dirt and baby basil, baby cucumber, baby squash, baby tomato, and baby Shasta Daisies all over my kitchen floor and counters.
You’d think he would have been grateful for the schwag. But no. Apparently he’d prefer Purple Haze cat nip instead.
Anyhow, here’s something else that bores the shit out of me and causes all sorts of problems in my life.
This is a picture of my desk.
Notice the Vegan cookbook that came in for me yesterday. It’s arrival was the most exciting thing that happened all day. That and the fun Lynne and I had running around doing our hijinks after our director left for lunch.
But I’m getting ahead of myself here because before lunch, this is all the work I had to do.
By lunchtime this is all the work I had done.
As you can plainly see, I am a very dedicated blogger and online shopper worker.
Obviously I had an exhausting morning and needed to take my break.
Here is the message board on the break room fridge.
“Fuck cheese and salami inside my ass.”
Lynne added the swear words to make the Internets laugh. We think we might add swear words every day just to make ourselves laugh and also to piss off and offend people because that’s what we really like.
And with people posting queer shit like this on the fridge, you need a little F-bomb every once in a while. Seriously.
And you know I had to have some of that salami. You how much I love the salami.
But I had to hide my love away because everyone thinks I’m a vegetarian. And I am.
Most of the time.
Here is the break room table. It is my mortal enemy and the reason why I wound up crying in my closet when I tried on last year’s shorts and found a lovely muffin top and camel toe where there had been none previously.
Normally, none of these foods would interest me, but when I’m at work I’m just so damned bored. I go in for water, I come out chowing on some form of bullshit food just to have 20 seconds of pleasure in an otherwise torturously dull day.
Notice how many penis-ish and balls-ish foods we have here. It’s okay to giggle about the honor snacks “munch box.” I do. I mean am I supposed to eat a bag of chips or eat out a co-worker? I’m confused! I don’t know what they want from me!
And who doesn’t love Poppycock?
Nobody. Nobody doesn’t love Poppycock, that’s who.
I think it’s better when eaten in confined spaces such as a random co-worker’s locker,
or snuggled in a shelving unit in the Administrator’s Supply Closet.
And here is my other problem.
It sits behind me on my boss’s desk and talks dirty to me all day.
“Criiiissssyyyy…come and eat me, Crissy. You know you love me, you know you want me, come and take me and tear my wrapper off and lick me! Lick! Me!”
So sometimes people find me doing a jar of chocolates under my desk.
I also like pretzels and twizzlers.
I think I might save this picture until most of the 5lb tub of Twizzlers is gone and then I’ll post it on the fridge.
Ha, ha! Your Twizzler was in the Men’s room! Ha, ha!
Did I mention I use the Men’s room instead of the Ladies?
I do because there are only 2 men who work with us and about 40 women.
Whatever those “ladies” are doing in the staff bathroom?
I want no part in it. But that’s a post for another day.
Anyway, I’m glad it’s Friday and I’m sure you are too.
Happy Weekend Internets!