“ Sorry I spelt ‘monitor’ with an ‘e’ at the end instead of an ‘o’. You know us designers! Although now i’m going to forever say ‘monitor’ with extra emphasis on the ‘ORRRRRR’, because it sounds like a monster… “MONI-TORRR” … like, GAMBLOR … the gambling type monster.
— An email I just wrote to a client.
Her Channel 5 Microphone is not in her hand and her Channel 5 gun is under my desk. ~_~
You have selected Khia - ‘My neck, my back’. Good Morning Marshall.
And by body I mean my office. See what I did there? I’m tricking you into reading about my job. We ‘restructured’ the office today and I had to move desks, for the first time, in like, three years. It was so emoticon. I used to sit in the corner with baby, with the other designers, but now we’re organised by client instead? SIGH. So now I’m seated in the centre of the office. So I am now the centre of attention. Literally AND figuratively. FASHION.
CHRIST. I hate taking my work home with me. It’s like university all over again. One time, I was so late in handing in an essay I drove my car up onto the building entrance, jumped out, left the door open and sprinted to the lifts to get my essay in on time. I got a D. I think I almost ran over an Indian girl? So… not it’s not all bad.
There is a booger in the men’s toilet at work. It has been on the wall for months and months and months. Every time I would go pee, I would stare at Sir captain boogerpants. Stuck there, on the wall. I would think to myself “My God how could someone, a co-worker, so blatantly flick their snot on the wall like that?”. I would always consider grabbing a tissue and removing it. Flushing it down the toilet, but my GOD how disgusting is that? Anyway, I’ve had a pretty average day, and so after about 17 cups of coffee, I wandered into the toilet in a complete daze. And without thinking, as soon as I walked into the bathroom, I grabbed the booger off the wall with my finger and flicked it in the toilet. HOLY SHIT. I JUST GRABBED SOMEONE ELSES BOOGER? I JUST USED MY BARE HAND TO SCRAPE GREEN MAN-SNOT OFF OF THE WALL??? I AM A MONSTER. THE BOOGER THEIF HAS ENSLAVED ME. I BURGLED THE BOOGER WALL. BOOGLER. CHRIST FUCKING BOOOOGLER. FUCK. UNGH. GROSS. Congratulations filthy co-workers, YOUR WALL IS CLEAN. I guess, now I can finally put up that sign I always wanted to – ‘Pissing everywhere isn’t very Chanel’
What the fuck is up with this fuckin shit? FUCKIN CHRONICLES OF RIDIC.
Although it’s a short song, no one wanted to ‘hold on’.
Ok FIRST OF ALL, I’m pretty precious about when I go to drop the kids off at the pool. Like, I have to make sure that NO ONE is around, the mere thought of having someone near by while I’m crapping just creeps me out. The sounds. I don’t want them to hear the sounds. So anyway, I’m in the toilet right and I let out a little fart, and then a looooong fart, and then a high pitched fart, then a looooow pitched fart. All which I thought was HILAR so I let out a little giggle. I continued on with my butt-musical for a little longer: pfffft, thpppppt, prrrrrrrrp, paaaaaaaahp. And finally, the Pièce de résistance: SPLASH. DONE. It was awesome. THEN.THEN.THEN. Somebody walked out.. SOMEONE LEFT THE BATHROOM. SOMEONE WAS L I S T E N I N G TO MY WIND SONG / 30 SECOND TRIBUTE TO CELINE DION. SOMEONE ACTUALLY STOOD THERE. IN SILENCE. UNBEKNOWNST TO ME. L-I-S-T-E-N-I-N-G. !!! OMGOOMGIMOSGNBBSERBLDBFSF. I was MORTIFIED. I sat there for a good minute or so with my hands over my mouth in shock. I had to go back to my desk via the back entrance in case they saw me. Did they see me???? should I cry? THIS IS WHY YOU NEVER TAKE A CRAP AT WORK. Omg, but lol. Butt-lol.
Next week is ours, and it’s going to be in Wenderholm (whats-a ‘Wenderholm’? amiright?) If things go as well as last year, I should be wasted by mid afternoon. Which could be trouble, BECAUSE, after that I’m going to a Mad Hatters tea party! Awesome yeah? (Did I say that right Jess? Is it Alice in Wonderland themed? Or did I just make that up? It’s just a normal tea party isn’t it? Eh, I’ll bring my fascinator irregardlessly… something to rival Blairs) But the real filthy mutha will be in a couple-o-weeks time, the *company name redacted* Christmas party, which will be ‘Petanque’ themed. Tighty-whities are a must, I’m going to need to prepare an ENTIRE outfit. Accessories are key. A neck scarf maybe? I WILL BE THE PRETTIEST FGGT IN THE LAND. Unless of course there’s Tequila laybacks, in which case I’ll just be a repeat of last year.
