UPDATE: The bag of turd

It's here!

So last night after I bagged the bagged turd, I left it outside my front door (no way I was inviting that thing in), with the intent of taking it to the dumpster in the morning.

This morning I leave, grab that poo and put it on the floor in my car to drop in the dumpster down the block -- and drove right past the dumpster. It's not till I park at work that I realize I'm still in possession of said turd.

What now? There's no dumpster around. I'm too nice to litter (besides, then someone would have to grab it a third time and that's just ridiculous). So I decided to...

...wait for it...

bring it into my office... and THROW IT AWAY IN OUR KITCHEN! (In the garbage, of course, but still -- enjoy, everyone)

Hahahahaha.

What? You didn't think I was going to have it stewing in my cubicle's trash can, did you?

Nerd stuff like making web sites

Have you ever tried? Goddamn.

I buy my fabulous domain from godaddy. Who knows if that was a mistake (I certainly don't know; I just know they had a Superbowl commercial, and that's enough credibility for me). Anywhos, I am desperately trying to use their site-building tools.

It's supposed to be easy. Website Tonight! it's called. My ass. Website if the page ever loads... It is slower than anything I've ever come across. But, hey, I'll deal with it because it's free. Can't complain about free, can you?

Um. I believe I'm doing just that. This is night #2 of Website Tonight! and it isn't even working. The level of annoying here is huge. Imagine an eyelash in your eye. Annoying right? Now dump every single lash you have in that same eyeball. That's about where I'm at right now.

One day I'm sure I'll get this thing up and running, but right now? All I want is a glass (bottle) of wine. Now THAT at least I know I can get tonight.

Crybabies

Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.

Working after 5 on Fridays

Like today. And every other week. I know there's a ton of people at happy hour right now (or, at the very least at home doing nothing), and I'm sitting in a cubicle.

Not that my cubicle isn't lovely, it's just that I've had enough of it by this time of the week, and I'm ready for an adult beverage or 10. And since happy hour ends at 7, the longer I stay here, the more expensive my night gets.

On the bright side... it is payday, so that's always a plus.

I'm surrounded by office monkeys

They file, they staple, they Post-it.

They answer emails with excited (and annoying) exclamation points. They live for meetings, and are generally the first one to pop out of their cubicle and bubble, "Hey, are we still having that meeting?!" Answer: Yes, but you're the only one that can't wait. I'll be there as soon as I'm done filling my Netflix queue.

They feverishly take notes (about what?) and then file their legal-sized sheets outlining hours of worthless meetings away (never to be seen or referenced again, but hey, they're office monkeys -- that's what they do).

They hover around, anxious to discuss the same thing they always discuss. The same drone office talk. They have fake laughs. They strain to keep obviously ended conversations going (leave already, I'm trying to check my Myspace).

The casual Friday uniform: Jeans (pressed), dress shoes (tassles likely) and the predictable college-I-graduated-from collared shirt.

And they're just not that smart. They have a routine (see above), and God forbid it changes, they can't handle. They can't help you with anything extra, but will be over-enthusiastic about offering to (which you will politely decline because you don't want to have to do it over).

Office monkeys get my panties in a bunch. But they have their OK days, because at least you know who to hand off the drudgingly boring tasks to (which they'll happily take on with an exclamation point)...