Today was supposed to be the perfect Friday. After a hectic week, all visitors were gone, both bosses were gone. The potential for my inner peace while at the work place was high. I had a crazy night of hardly any sleep due to heavy rains and thunder storms and I was tired. I needed a calm day.
My first stop on the way to bliss was to get a hot chocolate. I pulled up to the espresso stand and tried to get my window down, but it turns out that you can't get your window down by pulling on your turn signal. I sat there for a brief moment in a panic, and then I remembered I should use the uppy/downy button on the door. You know, the one that works the window. For crying out loud, what was wrong with me?
I proceeded to the freeway. There is a light lit up on my dash, something is wrong. This can't be good. It looks like a squished turtle. I started to really worry, and then I realize it is a headlight indicator. One of my lights must be out...? I put my turn signal on and it goes completely ape-shit. It was like a turn signal on Viagra. It was blinking fast as fast can be. Great. If it goes out on the way to work, then I will be one of "those people" that don't use their turn signal. I hate those people. I cuss at and make fun of those people. It might be time to trade it in. I mean, it has almost 45,000 miles on it and now the turn signal is going out. Plus the remote lock thing-a-mabob is only working part of the time. I mean the upkeep we are looking at, this is getting big. I'm going to have to go manual on unlocking the door and then rolling down the window to signal when I am turning? This is too much. So Ghetto.
In spite of my broken-down, ghetto vehicle, I do arrive at work safely. It's raining. Good 'ol summertime in the northwest. But I'm not going to let this ruin my boss-free Friday. I'm going to get stuff done and I am going to be peaceful. The only thing really ruining my buzz was that I had an appointment at the gym with Ass Kicker. I thought of 100+ excuses to give him so I wouldn't have to go, but alas, I put on my big girl panties and went down there to the gym. He worked me over pretty good. By the time I was done, I had spagetti arms. I just sat at my desk with my hands resting on the keyboard. I was willing them to type. My lunch was on the desk next to my computer. It was a couple inches higher than my keyboard. I could not will my arms to reach for my lunch. I just didn't have the power. Anything weighing more than a post-it was going to be a problem. If we keep at it like this, this could be the best weight loss technique yet. Render my arms useless and I am screwed. I mean, I'm not flexible enough to get a cheeto between my toes and then all the way up to my mouth. Yes, we might finally be on to something.
As my post work-out haze was wearing off, I received an email that would completely and undeniably ruin my day. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail, but let's just say the corporate card folks wanted to audit my October, November and December expenses. I had spent over $20,000. Through some sort of accounting snaffu by myself, the people helping me with my expenses while I was out with my Dad, and computer glitches, most of the data was missing. I pretty much felt like offing myself. In a weak moment, I looked at the two balloon weights that had been left on my desk earlier in the week and exclaimed, "I'm going to tie those to my ankles and jump in the river! I will never be seen again!" Ok, so a little dramatic, especially since the balloon weights were like, a pound a piece. Thong Barbie was at my desk and we discussed that I probably would not need the balloon weights since my butt and thighs are so fat, that they would float, thereby forcing my head under water. How do you keep your head above water when your ass is floating it's way out to sea? I can see it now, the search and rescue people would say, "I see a life boat...no, wait, is it a whale? What?....it's a giant floating ass...where did that ass come from? Who's is it? This can't be...why is a random ass floating around?" Only after retrieving my ass out of the water will they see that sharks and other wildlife ate off the rest of my body, but they couldn't eat my ass because it was like bobbing for apples. Sometimes it just isn't worth it. The bigger problem is, how do you identify a random ass? You can't fingerprint it, no dental records...I mean, it's a problem. And if you do some sort of butt-skin DNA test and find out it is me, do you have an open casket? Do you put me in a really cute pair of jeans? You know, the kind with bling on the pockets? I'm just saying, it could happen. I need to have a plan if I want to prepare for this type of thing.
I know everyone thinks I'm being dramatic, but it was right after all that was discussed that I opened my personal email and my husband had sent me an email about us going river rafting. You see, it COULD happen. You don't know that it couldn't, so don't try and tell me otherwise.
Anyway, that sums up my relaxing Friday. Never a dull moment, unfortunately.
My first stop on the way to bliss was to get a hot chocolate. I pulled up to the espresso stand and tried to get my window down, but it turns out that you can't get your window down by pulling on your turn signal. I sat there for a brief moment in a panic, and then I remembered I should use the uppy/downy button on the door. You know, the one that works the window. For crying out loud, what was wrong with me?
I proceeded to the freeway. There is a light lit up on my dash, something is wrong. This can't be good. It looks like a squished turtle. I started to really worry, and then I realize it is a headlight indicator. One of my lights must be out...? I put my turn signal on and it goes completely ape-shit. It was like a turn signal on Viagra. It was blinking fast as fast can be. Great. If it goes out on the way to work, then I will be one of "those people" that don't use their turn signal. I hate those people. I cuss at and make fun of those people. It might be time to trade it in. I mean, it has almost 45,000 miles on it and now the turn signal is going out. Plus the remote lock thing-a-mabob is only working part of the time. I mean the upkeep we are looking at, this is getting big. I'm going to have to go manual on unlocking the door and then rolling down the window to signal when I am turning? This is too much. So Ghetto.
In spite of my broken-down, ghetto vehicle, I do arrive at work safely. It's raining. Good 'ol summertime in the northwest. But I'm not going to let this ruin my boss-free Friday. I'm going to get stuff done and I am going to be peaceful. The only thing really ruining my buzz was that I had an appointment at the gym with Ass Kicker. I thought of 100+ excuses to give him so I wouldn't have to go, but alas, I put on my big girl panties and went down there to the gym. He worked me over pretty good. By the time I was done, I had spagetti arms. I just sat at my desk with my hands resting on the keyboard. I was willing them to type. My lunch was on the desk next to my computer. It was a couple inches higher than my keyboard. I could not will my arms to reach for my lunch. I just didn't have the power. Anything weighing more than a post-it was going to be a problem. If we keep at it like this, this could be the best weight loss technique yet. Render my arms useless and I am screwed. I mean, I'm not flexible enough to get a cheeto between my toes and then all the way up to my mouth. Yes, we might finally be on to something.
As my post work-out haze was wearing off, I received an email that would completely and undeniably ruin my day. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail, but let's just say the corporate card folks wanted to audit my October, November and December expenses. I had spent over $20,000. Through some sort of accounting snaffu by myself, the people helping me with my expenses while I was out with my Dad, and computer glitches, most of the data was missing. I pretty much felt like offing myself. In a weak moment, I looked at the two balloon weights that had been left on my desk earlier in the week and exclaimed, "I'm going to tie those to my ankles and jump in the river! I will never be seen again!" Ok, so a little dramatic, especially since the balloon weights were like, a pound a piece. Thong Barbie was at my desk and we discussed that I probably would not need the balloon weights since my butt and thighs are so fat, that they would float, thereby forcing my head under water. How do you keep your head above water when your ass is floating it's way out to sea? I can see it now, the search and rescue people would say, "I see a life boat...no, wait, is it a whale? What?....it's a giant floating ass...where did that ass come from? Who's is it? This can't be...why is a random ass floating around?" Only after retrieving my ass out of the water will they see that sharks and other wildlife ate off the rest of my body, but they couldn't eat my ass because it was like bobbing for apples. Sometimes it just isn't worth it. The bigger problem is, how do you identify a random ass? You can't fingerprint it, no dental records...I mean, it's a problem. And if you do some sort of butt-skin DNA test and find out it is me, do you have an open casket? Do you put me in a really cute pair of jeans? You know, the kind with bling on the pockets? I'm just saying, it could happen. I need to have a plan if I want to prepare for this type of thing.
I know everyone thinks I'm being dramatic, but it was right after all that was discussed that I opened my personal email and my husband had sent me an email about us going river rafting. You see, it COULD happen. You don't know that it couldn't, so don't try and tell me otherwise.
Anyway, that sums up my relaxing Friday. Never a dull moment, unfortunately.
No comments:
Post a Comment