Posts Tagged ‘work’

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He looks freakin’ dead…

May 6, 2011

Once upon a time I couldn’t go to sleep without updating this blog. Now I go months ignoring it – treating it like the fat, ugly sister who tags along on a night out with my sexy friends. As much as I try to hide it, writing is my first true love. Sure I might pretend that I’m someone who doesn’t care whether or not you talk to me or give me the time of day but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I live to make people laugh and sometimes I go over the line into inappropriate to do it and this is why I’ll most likely end up divorced and dying alone.

I’ve found myself in a new place where I’m aware that life is short and no one is going to force me into being happy and fulfilled in my work. That is all up to me. I choose to walk into the building where they ID me to even get into the parking deck every morning. Like I’d ever want to park there if I didn’t have to, right? My car is so fucking banged up and shitty at this point what the hell do I care. Put it next to the dumpster and let’s see if someone will pick it up before the end of the work day. Doubtful. Man, I’m never gonna get the 350Z convertible I’d have to trade in one of my kids* for.

I’m venturing into the next chapter of my life and that means I’m facing a semi. No, I haven’t sprouted a small dick (not just yet anyway). A semi-mid-life crisis. What? That’s not a thing? Well too bad cause I’m making it a thing. I’m not quite 40 but I’m definitely old enough to be looking back thinking “fuck young people” and “what the hell do they know about life anyway?” in my jealousy that I now require 6 pounds of eye cream just to look like I didn’t get an Angry Buccaneer the night before. Sure I could just stop all the drinking but what fun would that be? I want to see just how long my liver was designed to last and my money is on long enough that I die before my mind is mush and I’m shitting in my pants. Oh god, please let that be the case. I’d rather end up hideous with a still-sharp mind than pooping in my underwear, lying on the kitchen floor waiting for the neighbor to come over and have to change my diaper. Hell, I’m 36 and never even borrowed a cup of sugar before so that would be reaaaaaly awkward.

*Ok so I’d never actually trade in one of my kids but I sure as hell would make them sit on top of each other in the fucking passenger seat. Strapped into the proper restraint seat, of course.

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Scenes from a Starbucks…

January 20, 2011

"Smells like fish in here."

One of the best things about my job is that I sometimes get the opportunity to change up my schedule and work on projects that take me out of my element. For the past two days I’ve been working with an agency downtown and have had a little extra time to spend in the morning enjoying my coffee while catching up on emails. Since I’ve had a few Starbucks gift cards floating around in my wallet and there’s one just down the street from my house I figured, “Why not stop?” and see how the other half live. You know, the half that wakes thumping a vein and cuts you off in your own neighborhood trying to beat you to the Starbucks to get their ‘fix’. It turns out the stereotyping isn’t too far from the truth in most cases and I’ve seen some very interesting people and behaviors these past couple of mornings.

The following account is based on real events. No names were used since no one would give me the time of day.

8:09 AM: The parking lot is looking a little more crowded than it was at this same time yesterday. I wonder if I’ll get a squishy ass-friendly seat or will have to set up shop at a hard tailbone-killing chair. I can’t believe I’m thinking this. Am I becoming a ‘regular’ already? What in the crap do they slip into their brew?

8:12 AM: I forgot this location doesn’t have a drive-thru so most of the cars were to go orders leaving a couple of open chairs. Pour that Pike’s Place already so I can snag my seat.

8:13 AM: What is it about the half and half? It’s almost always empty. Do they never fill this thing to full capacity? I’m thinking it must be some kind of cheap Barista entertainment to stand and watch all the unrefined schlubs who order non-whippy-frothy-plain old coffee to drink wrestle with getting the few remaining drops from the carafe.

8:14 AM: Finally. All set and ready for ass to meet seat. And lookie there, one’s waiting for me tucked into a quiet corner.

8:16 AM: Burned my tongue. Fuckers.

8:23 AM: There’s a pair who do not at all look to be a couple sitting together and talking while looking all around the space. It’s as if they’re casing the joint. I’m thinking they won’t get much. A few spent gift cards, egg sandwiches that have been on display for what looks like over a week, yesterday’s half-stolen AJC newspaper and the tip jar which looked to contain $3.78 and a Terminex business card.

8:25 AM: The odd couple just walked over and lifted up the newspaper rack next to the seat I’ve made home and intently studied the floor underneath. Not sure what they’re looking for but they didn’t pick up the quarter. Safe to assume now they aren’t here to rob the place.

8:31 AM: Lady in track pants just walked in and noticed me sitting in the squishy seat. She looks pissed. I didn’t see a name or ‘RESERVED’ sign hanging on the arm so I’m going to ignore her and pretend I’m not completely enraged at how amazing her ass looks in those pants. I suppose if she’s really that upset, I can offer she sit in my lap. I’ve always been an ‘ass woman’ anyway.

8:37 AM: Track pants took her coffee and plain bagel to go. Damn.

8:51 AM: The odd couple just gave the lady behind the counter a half-melted-down-golfer-topped statue that she’s awfully excited about. She keeps saying “I didn’t think I was gonna make it! I didn’t think I was gonna make it!” I know what she means. Playing golf is painfully boring.

8:58 AM: Justin Bieber’s older brother is chatting up another lady behind the counter. Just heard him tell her he’s gotten an agent here in town and hates New York because the winters are too cold. Judging by the large tears in his jeans, he’s only just arrived in town and has no idea he should have kept driving south for another 600 miles.

9:06 AM: The next wave of regulars are making their way in: 3 retired guys, a stay-at-home mom and what looks to be her personal trainer, young, hip business woman in knee-high black patent leather boots and mid-life man in baseball cap. I think this is my cue. Time to get some new boots.

9:11 AM: Giving up my seat to the scone crumbs and a stray blueberry. Good thing I wore black pants and enjoy the smell of blueberries.

9:12 AM: Hey, look at that! I just found a quarter.

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He’s Mr. Brightside…

April 15, 2010

The best thing about having my own blog is that I get to make all the creative decisions.  Wanna make the font 36 point, flashing yellow-and-red?  I’m game.  Wanna lead each entry with an off-the-cuff Pop Culture reference or inflammatory comment?  Sure thing kid.  Wanna showcase photos of half-naked seniors playing BINGO during happy hour at the local Mexican Cantina?  You got it.  Anything I want goes in Webie World and that’s what makes this place so Goddamn special.  See?  Inflammatory rules.

I'll pick you a winner!

I find myself in a current state of “what-the-hell-am-I-doing-with-my-life” and really need to find something that better puts all my glorious talents to use.  What talents, you ask?  Well…there’s my ability to make 3 rounds through the office every morning shaking hands and kissing ass babies before the day begins.  I often joke that I should be in Public Relations.  Then I realized that ‘public’ wasn’t the word I thought it was and decided not to make the move.  So that leaves me back at “what-the-hell”.  One thing I can tell you is that I’m definitely going to continue to work in a creative field.  Please – was that even in question?  Let’s be honest…I’m pretty darn good and whipping up just about any frothy goodness someone could order at the counter, complete with tri-colored umbrella and bendy straw at no extra charge.  Yep.  I go above and beyond.  For now, I’ll stick with what I know.  And that’s excessively loud talking, gossip-laden phone calls and bitch-moan-and-complain sessions at least 4 times a day.  But if anyone out there knows where those qualities might be found of value – please let me know and I’ll be happy to….  Wait.  What’s that?  Drive-time radio*?  Are you kidding?  Sh-yah.  As if I’m the type who enjoys blowing air horns, daring dumbasses to eat table spoons full of dry cinnamon and flirting with the traffic copter pilots just so I gain a reputation and start a blog and make bank off the ad revenue.  Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong gal.  But thanks for the suggestion.

*Hey Connecticut School of Broadcasting: CALL ME!!

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On the dock of the bay…

November 4, 2009

6-Degrees of FRIENDS: Day 1

Turns out my little “experiment” about whether or not I really would be able to put-my-fanny-where-your-mouth is and link an event in my day back to a specific FRIENDS episode was a success.  At 1PM ET I was offered a leftover sandwich during a staff meeting.  Free food is something I don’t take lightly and once the score is made – no one better mess with my find.  As a coworker leaned over in a half-funny attempt to snag my sandwich, a classic Ross moment immediately came to mind and I couldn’t help but blurt out “MY SANDWICH!?” right there at the meeting table.  Go ahead and sigh out loud at my stupidness in the office space…I don’t care.  It’s all worth it knowing no one will ever dare touch this wanna-be-fat-girl’s food*.

*I easily could have made this a double-dip into the funny FRIENDS pool by including a clip of Joey.  Ah hell.  I’ll just go ahead a blow my load.

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The spiciest number in town…

November 2, 2009

Like the placards of the evening cleaning crew – so are the nights of my life.

piso-mojado

I usually try not to fall down in front of other people unless I’m either really drunk or just feel like getting some extra attention.

Maybe it’s all the long hours and late nights at the office but I have an idea to embark on a new blog.  An experiment of sorts where no one will have to wear nipple clips and all the animals can sleep without fear of being shaved.  Since I already drive those around me crazy with my never-ending comparison of my daily life to one of many brilliant FRIENDS episodes (the greatest television show of all time — ALL TIME) I figured why not start a blog where I compare the days events to a classic episode.  I’ve sworn six-ways-from-Sunday that just about every situation in my life can be linked back to that situation comedy* so why not annoy the web masses with my genius?  I know, I know…I think it’s a pretty fantastic idea too — and no, you cannot “steal it” and pass it off as your own.  You can have Seinfeld.  I never got much into that show anyway.

*This episode has come to mind a lot lately with my working so late into the night these past few weeks.  While I’m not going to tell you that the scene I’ve selected has happened to me while at the office – I’m not going to tell you is hasn’t either.  Let’s just say…I’m sharing it for it’s “balls out there” style.

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The more things change…

October 21, 2009

There are some things in life you can always count on:

A Starbucks on every corner.
Re-runs of “Everybody Loves Raymond”.
Jon or Kate on the cover of People Magazine.

And this guy —

1021091904

still parked in the same spot for over 3 weeks now.

Seriously.  I think this person died.  I really need to let security know so they can begin checking all the stairwells.

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Weenie Hut Jrs…

October 17, 2009

falling_down_stairsThis has become the icon of my work life lately.  It’s amazing how when you love (yes, I said “love” and yes, I know how incredibly disgusting that makes me to most of you out there) what you do – you’re willing to keep going further and further down the stairwell of office hell.  For those of you who have contacted me to ask “what the f*ck Webie Gal?” which I can only interpret as “hey chick – we think you’re the funny-pipe-ass-bomb and really miss your almost passable for being dedicated to this blog posts”, I encourage you all to follow me on Twitter.  This is the best way to get bite-sized pieces of the steaming humor droplets you’ve come to know and love.  And if you are already following me and are still asking me to “step it up” — take it down a notch, will ya?  A gal’s gotta work as long as there are kids who’ve gotta eat.

*I can’t help but notice the Braille included on this plaque and wonder………

…….you know what?  Nope.  I’m just not going to take my thoughts to ‘that place’ and open myself up to hate mail.  Those of you who know me best no doubt already know where my mind is at — and it’s a very evil-genius place.