Weird day today. Today was one of those days that just had a weird feel to it. I don't know if it is the full moon or what. The day started innocently enough, just normal. You know, no major wardrobe issues (even though the upstairs closet is a wreck), no major drama on the way in. Upon arriving, I walked in with Chatty Wilson, we lamented about the weather, the company, where we were going to die and if we died at our desks, how long we'd rot there, etc. I got to my desk, got a few things done, Valerina showed up for the morning check-in, I chewed out Moglie for everyone that has ever stolen my Clorox wipes, he was unaffected, you know, normal stuff.
It was about noon-ish when things started to fall apart. I realized I needed to get the mail done, but that I also had a staff meeting during the time I needed to do the mail. I guess that means I don't get a lunch hour. And then I stopped. This is stupid. The mail is a recent added responsibility. It isn't my job, really, it is a responsibility, but I had a full time job before I got this responsibility. So, you know what? The building will get their effing mail when I effing get to it. I eat my lunch quickly, go down to our new meeting room, set it up, come back up, get ready to go to the meeting and then the phone rings. It's Butthead the security guard. It appears someone is at the loading dock with computers. This falls into the category of NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM. I'm beyond irritated. This is not my scope of responsibility, but because Butthead has dumped it on me, what am I to do? Just then, as if by magic, the new building dude appears at my desk, "How's it going?" I said, "I'm glad you asked...." and proceeded to rail on him about Butthead, the delivery at the loading dock and how I'm late for a meeting. New Building Dude and I go down to the loading dock and get this handled. I go to the meeting, take notes, feel like stabbing my eyes out...normal stuff.
I head back up to my desk and pass one of my co-workers in the hallway whose eyes are big as saucers telling me about a crazy lady by the bathroom. I don't see a crazy lady by the bathroom. Maybe she is the crazy lady by the bathroom. Hey, that reminds me, I have to pee. I go in, pee and go to pull my nylons back up. That is when I heard the sound no woman wants to hear. I just ripped a huge, mother trucking hole in my nylons. Fuck, Fuck, Fuckity Fuck. I manage to get them to a position that will still allow me to put myself back together and walk. Hopefully I can make it to my desk where I have some hairspray. Maybe that will hold this situation at bay. I do the crippled girl shuffle back to my desk. No one is around, so I pull up my skirt just enough to spray the hell out of my nylons. The rip is on the inner upper thigh, so now, I have successfully managed to glue my legs together. Thank God I wear underwear, otherwise, I may have required a stylist down there. Anyway, I walk over to Valerina to tell her my plight. One of her male teammates overhears me and says, "don't you have an extra pair at your desk? Or some nail polish?" Well, thank you, Macgyver, no I don't.
Feeling sticky, and frankly, chaffing like a mo-fo, I head out to get the mail. I have to walk all the way out to the end of the parking lot. It's a lonely walk, but it's okay. As I'm starting back with the mail in hand, a large white van drives next to me and slows way down. I mean WAY down and is crawling next to me. It doesn't have any windows. Shit. Wild Bill has come for me. I'm going to be in a hole rubbing lotion on my skin within the hour and I will be a woman suit within the week. I pick up the pace and the van parks. I hope whoever it is isn't waiting for me when I come out later. I feel like prey that has been located and I will be hunted and then trapped when I am prime for the taking. I mean, I could be totally kidnapped and who would know? When would they notice I was missing? Would they look for me? Where would they start? I don't think they would. If I'm not there to ask, "Where's Cassondra?" Who are they going to ask?
None the less, I make it back in safely. Dish Guy comes over and is asking me how it's going. I'm going over how I have a run in my nylons. He says, "What did you say? You have the runs?" Then, I hear Angry Stallion over the wall, "What? Cassondra has the runs?" Then an aisle over from him I hear Nick The Bouncer say, "Cassondra has the runs!?" I'm yelling, "No, no, no, my NYLONS have a RUN!" Angry Stallion says, "I'd better put that in the center chat and notify everyone to stay clear." These are my people. The people I am surrounded with.
Pretty soon, Pinterest Food Porn comes over and starts talking to me. We start talking about her daughter's hair. One thing leads to another and we are talking about little kids and lice. I hear over the wall, "I didn't hear that whole conversation, but wow, Cassondra is having a tough day, first she has the runs an now she has lice!" Seriously. What is going on? I share the drama with Valerina and she says, "Well, at least you're entertained." I suppose so. I mean, I do sound like a fun gal, shitting my pants and pulling bugs out of my hair. That's fun. It's at that moment, Cross Fit Crazy comes out trying to give away pizza. He orders a large pizza, eats two slices and then gives the rest away. Call me crazy, but maybe a small or personal size pizza would have been the way to go? What do I know?
By this time, the hole in my nylons had grown and I am pretty sure I heard some ripping going on the last time I adjusted in the chair. And to be clear, when I say "ripping" I am referring to fabric separating, not passing gas. It's time to go home. I walk out, all pride lost. My skirt is riding up on one side, my bra has shifted and I have 3 runs in my nylons heading down my leg. It's been a tough day at the ol factory.
I think tomorrow I'm gonna wear jeans or something. I feel like I've earned it. And, I don't need Wild Bill dreaming about all the skin on my legs. I'd better wear the boots to be safe.
It was about noon-ish when things started to fall apart. I realized I needed to get the mail done, but that I also had a staff meeting during the time I needed to do the mail. I guess that means I don't get a lunch hour. And then I stopped. This is stupid. The mail is a recent added responsibility. It isn't my job, really, it is a responsibility, but I had a full time job before I got this responsibility. So, you know what? The building will get their effing mail when I effing get to it. I eat my lunch quickly, go down to our new meeting room, set it up, come back up, get ready to go to the meeting and then the phone rings. It's Butthead the security guard. It appears someone is at the loading dock with computers. This falls into the category of NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM. I'm beyond irritated. This is not my scope of responsibility, but because Butthead has dumped it on me, what am I to do? Just then, as if by magic, the new building dude appears at my desk, "How's it going?" I said, "I'm glad you asked...." and proceeded to rail on him about Butthead, the delivery at the loading dock and how I'm late for a meeting. New Building Dude and I go down to the loading dock and get this handled. I go to the meeting, take notes, feel like stabbing my eyes out...normal stuff.
I head back up to my desk and pass one of my co-workers in the hallway whose eyes are big as saucers telling me about a crazy lady by the bathroom. I don't see a crazy lady by the bathroom. Maybe she is the crazy lady by the bathroom. Hey, that reminds me, I have to pee. I go in, pee and go to pull my nylons back up. That is when I heard the sound no woman wants to hear. I just ripped a huge, mother trucking hole in my nylons. Fuck, Fuck, Fuckity Fuck. I manage to get them to a position that will still allow me to put myself back together and walk. Hopefully I can make it to my desk where I have some hairspray. Maybe that will hold this situation at bay. I do the crippled girl shuffle back to my desk. No one is around, so I pull up my skirt just enough to spray the hell out of my nylons. The rip is on the inner upper thigh, so now, I have successfully managed to glue my legs together. Thank God I wear underwear, otherwise, I may have required a stylist down there. Anyway, I walk over to Valerina to tell her my plight. One of her male teammates overhears me and says, "don't you have an extra pair at your desk? Or some nail polish?" Well, thank you, Macgyver, no I don't.
Feeling sticky, and frankly, chaffing like a mo-fo, I head out to get the mail. I have to walk all the way out to the end of the parking lot. It's a lonely walk, but it's okay. As I'm starting back with the mail in hand, a large white van drives next to me and slows way down. I mean WAY down and is crawling next to me. It doesn't have any windows. Shit. Wild Bill has come for me. I'm going to be in a hole rubbing lotion on my skin within the hour and I will be a woman suit within the week. I pick up the pace and the van parks. I hope whoever it is isn't waiting for me when I come out later. I feel like prey that has been located and I will be hunted and then trapped when I am prime for the taking. I mean, I could be totally kidnapped and who would know? When would they notice I was missing? Would they look for me? Where would they start? I don't think they would. If I'm not there to ask, "Where's Cassondra?" Who are they going to ask?
None the less, I make it back in safely. Dish Guy comes over and is asking me how it's going. I'm going over how I have a run in my nylons. He says, "What did you say? You have the runs?" Then, I hear Angry Stallion over the wall, "What? Cassondra has the runs?" Then an aisle over from him I hear Nick The Bouncer say, "Cassondra has the runs!?" I'm yelling, "No, no, no, my NYLONS have a RUN!" Angry Stallion says, "I'd better put that in the center chat and notify everyone to stay clear." These are my people. The people I am surrounded with.
Pretty soon, Pinterest Food Porn comes over and starts talking to me. We start talking about her daughter's hair. One thing leads to another and we are talking about little kids and lice. I hear over the wall, "I didn't hear that whole conversation, but wow, Cassondra is having a tough day, first she has the runs an now she has lice!" Seriously. What is going on? I share the drama with Valerina and she says, "Well, at least you're entertained." I suppose so. I mean, I do sound like a fun gal, shitting my pants and pulling bugs out of my hair. That's fun. It's at that moment, Cross Fit Crazy comes out trying to give away pizza. He orders a large pizza, eats two slices and then gives the rest away. Call me crazy, but maybe a small or personal size pizza would have been the way to go? What do I know?
By this time, the hole in my nylons had grown and I am pretty sure I heard some ripping going on the last time I adjusted in the chair. And to be clear, when I say "ripping" I am referring to fabric separating, not passing gas. It's time to go home. I walk out, all pride lost. My skirt is riding up on one side, my bra has shifted and I have 3 runs in my nylons heading down my leg. It's been a tough day at the ol factory.
I think tomorrow I'm gonna wear jeans or something. I feel like I've earned it. And, I don't need Wild Bill dreaming about all the skin on my legs. I'd better wear the boots to be safe.
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