Extreme overuse of not-meant-ironically hashtags is my #biggest #socialmedia #petpeeve.
#Awful #Clueless #StopIt
Just Sayin’.
Sorry, coworkers.
When I was brainwashed we decided to move to the ‘burbs, I shifted my already on-going search for a new job out to the ‘burbs too.
I don’t commute. I don’t understand the idea of commuting. I spend enough time on the actual working part of the day, I am not going to extend that day by hours sitting in my car surrounded by a bunch of other suckers doing the same damn thing.
I found a job that I was uniquely qualified for (no, no one pays me to make sarcastic-but-obvious observations. Where ever I work, that is something I offer free-of-charge,) so fast I took it as a sign.
I had been looking to move out of my position for over a year with no luck looking in the city – then I switch my search outward and BOOM, awesome job right into my lap? It was obviously because I was lining up my thinking with God’s plan or something, right?
Except, as it turns out, I can totally work from home with this job. Could do it ANYWHERE. Shot that little theory to hell PDQ, eh?
The thing is, I split where I work pretty much half-and-half. Some days I am at home, tucked in my little basement office working away, and some days I like to wear cute clothes and have someone to notice have the interaction that the office provides, so I go in.
Yesterday was a cute clothes office day, and as I finished my lunch and tossed the Tupperware with remnants of my spaghetti squash and parm up onto one of my paper piles, I realized something.
It would be the ultimate workplace courtesy if I would go ahead and stay down in my basement.
Awesome outfits aside, I think I am kind of blecky to work near.
-I don’t make extra trips from my cube, so if I finish eating, I chuck the container/silverware/coffee cup/whatever aside and let it sit there until I am getting up for another reason.
-My paper piles spread like a virus. They are contained in the cube, sure, but I am one of the first cubes you pass as you come in, and it ain’t pretty. Ask me for a tissue and I will get you one, but I have to go into the piles to retrieve the Kleenex box..
-I love me some mementos. My cube walls are as busy as a teenaged girl’s locker. Pictures and cards and bumper stickers and notes mix haphazardly with phone directories and processing info actually needed for work. A far cry from the grown ups’ everyone else’s carefully placed calendar and tasteful framed family photo sitting to one side of a clean desk.
-Post-its. I use early and often and EVERYWHERE.
-My dietary habits are occasionally questionable. They involve a lot of Nacho Cheese and Mountain Dew. This can’t be easy to watch.
– I am socially clueless in work settings, and not alert before cup of coffee #3 – which means if you walk by and say hi first thing in the morning, I may stare blankly at my computer until you are WAYYYYY down the line before awkwardly mumbling “goodlo” ( a cross because “good morning” and “hello” because I was going to say one, but then changed my mind faster than I could change my mouth and said both.)
Basically I am an office disaster. I am pretty sure I also type mega-loud when I am stressed, and I am a one-person department just now, so I am ALWAYS stressed.
Also there is that sarcastic comment thing. Hilarious to me, but someone SOMEWHERE might be less impressed. (Naw, that can’t be true.)
Long story short (never happens,) the nicest thing I could probably do for my coworkers is to get back into my sweatpants and back into my basement.
(But then the poor dog has to deal with my sloppy loud self…. It’s lose/lose, really.)
See you ’round the water cooler.
Why I’m down with Barney.
I am SO not the “no more than 1/2 hour of TV a month for little Timmy,” kind of parent. We are a TV loving family, and Jr is no exception.
When he was teeny tiny and sitting in his little buzzing seat on the table, he LOVED the theme songs for “King of the Hill” and “The Big Bang Theory,” (even when he got older – one of his first words was BANG! which he would yell at the end of the latter, before giggling his baby head off.)
On Sundays I would park his Rock and Play next to me in the main room of the Tree House and make an ass of myself interact as we watched Play With Me Sesame, and Elmo was his first baby love.
Now that he is older and more interactive (he will be two next week. TWO! Sob, stop time, stop – TOO FAST!) he sings and giggles and dances and repeats and generally woops it up in front of some Sprout/Disney Jr/Nick Jr programing.
I can’t say I will be losing any sleep over that, so whatever.
HOWEVER – pre-kiddo, I will say that I thought Barney would NEVER show his puffy purple kissser in my casa, no way, no how.
Um yeah.
Barney is awesome. Barney could roll up in his Barney bus, unpack his Barney bags, and take up residence here and I would be totally down, (might need to tail-proof some things, but I will make it happen if needed.)
Who is NOT awesome?
Dora. Dora is a Shouty McShouterson. Dora (and her cousin or brother or WHATEVER, Diego too,) needs to take it down about a bajillion notches. Instead of that, however, Dora is constantly telling MY KID to say things louder.
“We need to call ice cream trucky RIGHT NOW – will you help me?”
:::pause for kid to respond:::::
“LOUDER”
Hell no, not “louder” Dora – mommy no likey the screechy. Cierra la boca, por favor! (See, I did learn something other than how to ask for the bathroom pass in Spanish class – suck on that “Senora Tried-to-fail-me.”)
Who else is NOT awesome?
Cailou. Did I spell that wrong? I don’t care. Because I agree with his internet nickname “Cryou.”
What the hell did we do to you Canada, that you have sent us this whiner to infiltrate our TV time? I am uber-ok with expressing our emotions, with showing images of boys who aren’t ashamed to cry, etc, but that Charlie Brown looking pre-schooler WHINES everything.
Growing up is not so tough, except when he’s had enough (always,) and then he whines like the whineiest whiner EVAH.
Stop. No really. I don’t actually want my kid to think that whining is an acceptable form of communication.
Zip It, baldy. And your little cat, too.
Every time I hear him screeching, I hear the chorus of this gem from the South Park Movie
Here is the thing – Barney is nice. Barney has a good message. Barney makes my kid want to come give me “a great big hug and a kiss from me to you.” Barney is anything but annoying.
Give me some Barney and plenty of Sesame Street (I mean really – Sesame Street, fun for kids, fun for adults, and the things my kid knows that have come from Sesame Street AMAZE me,) and we will be singing and dancing and giggling with glee – no shouting or whining allowed.
Sunny dayyyyy, sweepin’ the clouds awayyyyyy……
Filed under musing
Reluctantly Suburban 