i've come up with all of the excuses and reasons in the world for which i'm not qualified to share my true thoughts and feelings. i've played around a little with this whole writing thing, but never really given it all. there's something about exposing it all that makes it real enough; raw enough to be something worth reading. i don't feel like my life, myself, or my thoughts are anything extraordinary. but in my mind the experience of life itself is something extraordinary. to have a body with so many intricate functions that work so exactly, separately and together, to create "life" is extraordinary. technology, all of our conveniences, everything that works with our minds and bodies and add up to life....that is extraordinary. so why the heck not give it all and share it all? i mean...within some kind of reason. i don't want to be murdered or terminated or anything like that. so, here we go...
i am a secretary. sometimes i like to be fancy and call myself an administrative assistant. makes it sound like more of a "real job." i guess i'm also an office manager as well. found that out yesterday. its all the same thing though. imagine pam from "the office." i've even got the red hair. i like to think i dress better, but i don't have a jim. guess we just can't have it all. so there are these 4 lawyers who share the building with my company. i don't actually work for the lawyers, but i like to think we're buddies, and ultimately i alert them when their clients are waiting. having done this for a few months now, i've decided that all red-necks have a lawyer. and so do all crazy people. and most of the time you get both of those things all in one scary little package. today this couple came in. leaned on the desk that says "DO NOT LEAN ON THIS DESK" and let me know they needed to talk to their lawyer. the problem is i didn't register that for a minute because i was too busy being traumatized by the bra-less woman with a very see through shirt on, the man with missing teeth, not tooth, teeth, and the strange smells coming from both of them. oh man alive. i can understand that when you're dumb and you don't take care of your teeth they fall out. and they also don't grow back. and it's a crying shame but that's life. but, what is with women thinking it's acceptable to run around bra-less? news flash: it's not. no one wants to see your big saggy boobs hanging down to your belly button in a shirt that has been worn so thin you might as well not wear anything. bra's aren't expensive! please. this is a plea to all women, everywhere: WEAR A BRA!!! for the sake of all eye-balls and souls. wear a bra. my family refers to naked boobs as "angry eyeballs." all angry eyeballs should be kept in their safe little homes. i don't care if your homes are polka dotted or nude. i don't care if your homes are so big i could fit my head inside. i don't even care, just put them away. those angry eye-balls made my eyes go extra big and i instantly moved on to the next duty of my day: the "get everyone in the office their lunch" duty.
i will admit i am a lazy individual. i love drive-thrus. wait, back-up. i have a love/hate relationship with drive-thrus. i hate yelling into the speaker. it makes me feel so awkward. especially when other people are in the car, and ESPECIALLY when english is not the first language, or a language at all, for the person on the other end. but i love avoiding the hassle of parking, walking in, collecting food, walking back out, backing out of a parking lot, etc. well today i'm like sweeet!!! drive-thru lunch order. having escaped two extra angry eyeballs i was feeling relieved. i order the sandwiches. wait patiently as they are made. pay for them. the man hands them to me. i look away from the drive-thru window for a split second to set the bags down on the passenger seat. instantly glance back because THE DRIVE-THRU EMPLOYEES ARM HAS GOTTEN STUCK IN THE LITTLE WINDOW. eye-balls almost pop out for the second time in an hour and hysteria begins. i couldn't even help it. first his arm is stuck. with assistance he gets it out. and then he's still screaming and holding it. and i'm in full fledge hysterical laughter in my car. he shoots me an angry look and i drive up just far enough to finish my laughter. have you ever seen such a thing?! it was so funny! i couldn't even stand it.
fortunately when i got back to the office, mrs. angry eyes and her semi-toothless sidekick were gone. unfortunately i didn't have the receipt. and i was too ashamed of my total immaturity in the moment of a drive-thru emergency to go back and get it.
several hours later i arrive home. enjoying some buttermilk waffles and reading and who strolls in the room? quincy. the greatest 7 year old alive. she's wearing these silky pajamas that button up the front, bananas in pajamas style. and as she struts in, she stops right in front of me and with all the pride her 7 year old self can muster up she says "these are my japanese pajamas....they're fancy...oh and by the way...if you want to find your special dessert you have to solve this riddle: i'm in the place where you sleep and i help you wake up in the morning...see ya!" and she strolls away in her "fancy, japanese pajamas."
bet you can't guess where i found a pink sweetart that says "jump for me"
who the crap puts that on a sweetart?! i thought sweetarts have "cutesy" phrases. jump for me?! what is happening to valentine's day! what is happening to this world!
next concern: valentine's day was a long time ago. is this from quincy's "rat stash" or "hobo sack of trash?" yes those are real things in her life. and thus mine.
morals of the story: 1-please wear a bra. or a bro. man boobs terrify me less though so if i have to pick one i pick bras, but both would be nice. 2-drive-thru danger is real. but if your lucky enough you'll experience it from the other side of the window. 3- there's someone in fancy, japanese pajamas out there leaving very old candy with sketchy messages on alarm clocks as a bed-time snack...how could life ever get better than that?
1 comment:
Just say, "Bananas in Pajamas" to Emma and see what happens.
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