Purgatory’s Not So Bad When People You Like Are There

The Purgatory I speak of is Work.

While I no longer relish going to work every day as I did when I worked at my bookstore (a lack of thousands of books will do that), I can now say I only dread the days when Little Miss Attitude is at work.

I arrived at work last night not extremely thrilled to provide my managerial skills. (This being because the caveman-aged computer screens at work seem to go out every time I manage) Luckily, my day was brightened when Frenchie informed me of a pleasant email I received from his boss stating my superior handling of said computer situations. Also, I am happy to report that the new server that has been hired seems to like me, and vice versa, though I haven’t a French accent to properly pronounce her South American name.

A little while after clocking in, one of my drivers informed me that our self-proclaimed douche/asshole delivery driver was on the phone for me. Douchey (we shall call him) just called to inform me that instead of being 6 minutes late as he usually is, he was going to be 10. While unneccessary for him to do so, Douchey made said call because he has decided I am likable and actually can perform my job to his standards. I told him, “It’s quite alright that you’ll be late. I’ll just write you up when you get here.” (A little joke we have amongst ourselves to make jabs at Little Miss Attitude.)

After the night started to get underway, I was cutting and boxing our lovely pizza creations, while bossing my boss Frenchie around. He needed said bossing simply because my boobage presence makes him distracted and out of sorts. He thanked me for my direction, stating that a pair of Dominatrix heels would go well with my no-nonsensical attitude. I agreed; however, said heels are not company-appropriated non-slip.

Things went well with no screen blackouts or disastrous mishaps, and after the rush, Douchey, the Narcoleptic waitress, and I began conversing on serious matters such as Apron Incidents and pink dicks. (The pink dick conversation was started by Little Miss several weeks back when she informed all present that she didn’t like them.) Narcolep let me know (after discussions of non-sex happening during the Apron Incident) that I am, in fact, every NORMAL man’s fantasy (what with the nakedness and horniness and all), while Douchey proclaimed that he couldn’t get past the idea of me in an apron sans clothes. (Or in his words, “I didn’t really need to picture that”) What hilarious and non-work-appropriate conversation ensued I will spare the details of, but suffice to say that it was great to actually be at work with people who don’t tell me I’m fat. (Douchey I’m quite certain would be honest if I asked him, because he’s honest like that, so I have no intention of asking.)

At precisely 11 PM (closing time), while Douchey was out on a delivery, I received a phone call asking for a pizza to be delivered. I regrettedly (haha) informed the man that we were closed; then he asked, “Isn’t it 10:59?” I fibbed and said, “I’m sorry, no. It is, in fact, 11:02.” Then the man said, “It’s not nice to lie, Twinkie!” The caller was Douchey coming back from his delivery, just fucking with me. (He for some unknown reason has nicknamed me Twinkie, which is better than his first choice of Cheeseburger. We decided he subconciously picked Twinkie because everyone likes Twinkies… There was some talk of cream-filled in there too, but nevermind about that) All together, the night was not half bad.

Sparklebutt

Woo! I finally got an award I’m completely thrilled about writing about! H.E. has bestowed upon me the Glitter E. Yaynus Award! ‘Cause my ass fuckin’ glitters, or some awesome shit like that.

I have heard this award is bestowed upon people who write about themselves entirely too much. I admit that I am one of those people, because, honestly- what better thing is there to write about? You know you agree.

So. Here are the rules about this incredible butt award:

Tell people at least five things you do that would make them want to kill you, or at the very least, make them hate you for the rest of their lives.

Honestly, I didn’t really think there was any reason for people to want to kill me, but the more I thought of it, the more reason I came up with…

1. I don’t gossip (much), which pisses the People Who Gossip Off. When individuals come to me and start gossiping about a certain person they can’t stand, intent on listening to me agree with them, I just listen and then shrug. I then receive a glare from the narrowed eyes of the Gossip Person.

2. (I hate me for this one) If I have a cold, or am crying and snotting everywhere, instead of using a tissue like a normal person would, I use the end of my sleeve. Which is why I try desperately to mostly wear short sleeves- then I am forced to go get a damn Kleenex already.

3. I tweeze those little obnoxious hairs that sprout occassionally on my chin when I’m driving. (Yes, I am amazingly beautiful and all that, but you know, everyone has SOME ugly thing about them.) I maintain that I am an excellent driver that never swerves because she is executing grooming habits while driving.

4. I talk about myself alot. I’m not really sure why this would piss people off, because after all, it IS all about me, but there are always a few haters…

5. It’s all about me. The only people who want to kill me because of this are the people who want it to be all about THEM.

The next thing you have to do according to the rules is this: Blindfold yourself and walk out into traffic on the freeway.

I think one of those people who want it to be all about THEM made this rule, so I have no intention of giving them the satisfaction of getting myself smushed by a trucker named Bucky.

The third thing I am supposed to do is pick out five things that I would stick up my ass if I was forced to.

There are just so many things to choose from; how can I just pick five?!

1. Cocaine or other assorted drugs: No, I do not do narcotics, however, I hear your ass is the place you should stick ’em if you are ever travelling to a foreign country, or want  an addict digging around in your butt.

2. Anal beads: Because, you know, that’s where they’re supposed to go.

3. Beer: Because it would be funny to offer to a thirsty man a beverage that has come from my ass. (Would a man ever turn down free beer, I wonder?)

4. Candy: Because I need to maintain my sugar levels. I was going to say French Fries here, but I don’t know exactly how that would work, and the more I tried to figure it out, the more I thought, “That’s just gross.”

5. Chris Meloni’s Boner: In all honesty, no one would FORCE me to do this. I believe I AND he would find great pleasure in having this occur. My ass is ready at any time to have Chris’s Man Part shoved up it. Chris? Are you paying attention?

I am also supposed to pick 5 bloggers who I think would also like to shove things up their ass and blog about it.

This award has been handed out to many of the individuals I thought of first, so I will try to go with the ones that haven’t received it yet.

Delightfulness: I wouldn’t be a true friend if I didn’t share an ass award with you, now would I?

Brainrants: I know you secretly want to talk about shoving things up your ass. Here’s your chance. You’re welcome.

John: Because I think that you would find this award amusing.

Kana: You’re an awesome lady, Lady. Happy assing! XOXO

Breezy K: From what I’ve experienced, Canadians like to shove things up their ass. Is it because you’re kinda French up there?