Somebody’s watchin’ meeee! -or- Did I really just say that?

While I realize the internet is a public forum, it still skeeves me out a bit to know that someone in my town googled “the fresh cracker wordpress” and landed here.

I have to wonder: did someone from my office somehow find out the blog title and domain and come here to see if they could catch me saying anything bad about work? Too bad, I never mention the company or what we do. Or name names.  I’ve been spied on by coworkers before, had things I’ve said severely twisted to the point of them being given a whole new meaning. Suck it.

Could it be a friend of mine who just forgot to mention that they came here to get an eyeful of ridiculousness? Maybe.

I have one other suspect, but let’s not talk about that.

IN OTHER NEWS: today I was eating lunch with my friend Amanda and talking about baby names [our coworker's wife is pregnant] and totally slipped and said, “I like the name Zelda for a girl….” Then proceeded to freak out because what I MEANT to say was “Stella”.

SHE IS STILL EVERYWHERE!!!!!

Things that gross me out: office edition

So by now you know that there are lots of things that I despise and some that even sicken me.  This compendium, of course, includes worms on the sidewalk *shudder* and since my office building is surrounded by sidewalks, my short trek into work often grosses me out.

But let’s take it a step further and go INTO the building.

I know, I know, you’re thinking “Come on, you work in an OFFICE.  How gross can things actually get?”

1. Fluids on file folders.  (alliteration FTW)  Oh yes, when working with file folders all day for TONS of patients (I don’t work in a doctor’s office, JSYK) things can get sticky. Literally.  Some of the grossest office moments come when I’m innocently perusing a file, updating some important document and I see stains.  Often brown, of uncertain origin, but possibly biological (I’m pretty sure I saw an actual booger the other day). Or chocolate.  Either way, keep runny things away from paper!

2. Cubeland nose-blowers.  Oh, yes.  You’d think someone would have the presence of mind to excuse themselves if they need to expel some mucus, but noooooooooooo.  Maybe I’m silly for being bothered by this, but gurgly snot sounds do NOT a pleasant working environment make.  Also of note: do these people not worry about a stray string of snot dangling out there? Go to the bathroom!

3. Speaking of that inner sanctum, let’s talk toilets. More specifically what some of my coworkers often DON’T do after visiting the toilet: WASH THEIR HANDS.  I don’t know how many times I’ve been innocently tinkling, only to hear someone else’s toilet flush, stall door open and then…… nothing.  They walk out of the bathroom without even rinsing!  I’ve nailed down at least two culprits, one of whom is this prissy woman who walks around talking very “essy” (I guess she thinks it makes her sound cultured?) and looking down her nose at people.  Oh, I’m onto you, prisspot.  Those hands are covered in remnants of urine and fecal matter.  That sign I posted on the bathroom door that says “Please wash your hands!” with a sign of germy palms? Totally directed at you. By the way, don’t touch the copier.

4. Also bathroom related and so gross it’s unbelievable: spying blood on various surfaces.  Oh yes, a travesty of this caliber occurred just this week, this time on the toilet roll itself,  and I was appalled.  Ladies, most of us have been dealing with “bloody issues” since we were about 12, so it’s time we got a handle on proper disposal, k?  If you can’t keep it off the floor and the wall (!!), then perhaps you should go back to 4th grade health class.

No wonder I’m always catching something.

things that bother me, list 3

- when I introduce myself to someone, very clearly pronouncing my name  and they reply, “Nice to meet you, [some other wrong pronunciation of my name].”

- the fact that someone in my company had to have a chart similar to this:

- the fact that the above mentioned dumbass took the chart down after being ridiculed by others in her office. i had to create the above pictured diagram in lieu of an actual photo.

- this whole  “being nervous around people” thing i’ve got going on lately. there can be people i’ve known for YEARS and i still get nervous when i see them. what the hell is that?

- stemming from the nervousness, always thinking people won’t remember me.  i don’t see someone for a while, then see them somewhere random, think they don’t remember me, so i don’t speak. then who looks like the asshole? this cracker right here.

- people who don’t reply to text messages. seriously, just common courtesy of saying “i don’t feel like eating dinner out tonight/with you/ever again” will suffice. most of us aren’t comprised entirely of baby girls; we can take it. 

- clicky shoes that women wear in the office. you may remember me mentioning this previously, but this time it’s almost worse because the lady who sits behind me wears them every. single. day. she also doesn’t celebrate birthdays which is weird to me, and i’m still unclear on the “bless you” thing if she sneezes.

Stand up and shout! This entry is mean.

Here’s a list of things I’d LOVE to stand up and shout while at work:

“It’s ‘asterisk’, not ‘asterik’ or ‘asterix’. Geez.”

“Just because you can’t hear yourself whisper-singing doesn’t mean the rest can’t. Shut it!”

“If you’d stop complaining about how overwhelmed you are/how much work you have to do, you’d get it done a lot faster.”

“Is it really necessary to yell every time you sneeze? I bet not.”

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize the sign on the building said ‘bring all your kids and their friends to run through our office while we’re trying to work.  Every day.’ They’re cute, I get it.  But today they are loud and in large numbers.”

“You just used the word ‘like’ four times in a seven word sentence.  I counted.”

“You smell like a thrift store.  That’s not a compliment.”

“PICK UP YOUR FEET WHEN YOU WALK. ARE YOU REALLY THAT LAZY?!”

Seriously, DHL.

Recently, I placed an order on urbanoutfitters.com and have been anxiously awaiting its arrival.

I went to check the shipping status, and this is what I found:

So apparently if you live in NC and order from a company with a shipping facility in SC, the package has to go back South to Georgia, skip two states [including yours] and go up to Virginia before coming back South to your town, which is in the Southeastern part of the state.

Dear urbanoutfitters.com:

Next time, send it US Mail, mkay?

The damn food-stealer

There is a girl with whom I work who is ostensibly very nice, but she has a dark, dark inner self that I have come to recognize as the bane of my existence: she is a damn food-stealer.

It started out when my cubicle was near hers, and she’d mosey over to chat.

…

I hate myself for phrasing that last sentence like that.

Anyway, she and I became fairly good work pals right away and I think I know why: not only would I listen to her detailed conversations -including verbatim dialog, much like Lady Criesalot- I also overlooked her tendency to use “like”, “you know” and “or whateverrrrr” at least four times each during the course of a sentence or two, but I like to keep tasty snacks in my desk drawer so I don’t freak out and eat an entire buffet during lunch.

The damn food-stealer began taking advantage of my snack stash.

First, it was “Oooh that looks good! Can I have some?”

This, of course, should’ve been a major red flag, but at the time I was the new girl so it was merely a pale pink piece of fuzz in my peripheral.  Although I absolutely detest the thought of ever asking to sample someone else’s food [I assume if they want to share, they'll tell me] I decided to give the girl the benefit of the doubt and let her hand go snaking into my bag of granola bar bits.

That is where this Cracker made her major mistake: I opened the floodgates for all damn food-stealers and accidentally branded myself a girl-who-doesn’t-mind-sharing-food.

WRONG.

I moved cubicles due to a coworker leaving and the new space being a prime spot to sit near my other team members, and, as I was moving across the room,  I assumed the damn food-stealer would find other desks to scavenge, but I was wrong.

Just the other day, we were on a major project deadline [data cutoff, semi-annual report due, and preparation for my coworker to be gone for a week] so I didn’t leave to get lunch. At all. Not even takeout.

I decided I could tide myself over with goldfish crackers until dinner and opened my food drawer to retrieve them.

It must’ve been like a dog whistle and the damn food-stealer some kind of terrier with as quickly as she spanned the room and stood before my chair.

My blood began to boil as I saw her skinny little hand go reaching into the bag of what was my only meal until 7pm or so.

“Girl, why’re you always stealing my foood?”  I said this in a joking, more-Southern-than-I-actually-sound way, but on the inside I really meant it.

“Because I know you don’t care,” she replied.

cue the crickets.

I was about to say, “Are you sure about that?” but I only got “Are y-” out before I was called to answer a question or take care of something.

Dammit.

Next time, I’m bringing in nothing but wasabi peas, McDonald’s [the damn food-stealer is kind of a health nut] and the flaming hot salsa from my local burrito joint [I happen to know that the damn food-stealer refuses to eat there on the grounds that she will have the hershey's about three minutes after eating].

I can’t wait until the damn food-stealer changes departments so I can snack and work undisturbed.

The very thought makes me drool…

Dead girl walking.

I am running on <4 hours of sleep.

I have puffy-eye and my coworkers have been saying “you look exhausted” or “you look like you’re in a bad mood.”

yes for the first, no for the second.

although i WAS in a semi-bad mood when i got a ranting comment on my “smiling sex offenders” entry

then i did some research and found out that the commenter well, you know.

if you don’t like this blog, don’t read it.

or, don’t fuck 14 year olds.

your choice.

Here’s a short one -or- ignorance grows rampant on the internet

To the “Proud Yankee” who commented:

“Face it southerners are just a bunch of inbred backward crackers.”

You forgot a colon. Yay for punctuation!

Also: not all Southerners are crackers. I happen to know and love quite a few black people who are Southern born and bred.

I also like how you didn’t put your real email address in the comment box. And, did you REALLY google “inbred southern crackers” TWICE?

p.s. This is your IP address: 65.191.212.235. Are you REALLY in Fayetteville? Or is it Dunn?

The worst thing about Nightwork -or- Smiling sex offenders

You’ve heard seen me mention Nightwork a few times, but I don’t think I’ve ever really explained it.

First: I work a lot. A LOT. I have a full-time job [just got a new one where I DON'T work for a stuttering idiot with brillo hair, a moody bitch, or the mayor of Tourette's Town; I actually LIKE my coworkers and bosses and my job in general] and then I have Nightwork.

Every week day I get up, go to my full-time job and work an eight hour day. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I leave straight from there and head down the parkway to Nightjob.

Where I work until nine pm.

Because I have no life. Because I was stupid and had four credit cards right out of college.

Anyway, Nightwork is the source that brings me [and you] BTSG, holiday parties, and a lot of whining.

BTSG has been in rare, smiling-at-me/staring-at-me mode lately, but now I’ve discovered an even worse phenomenon: SMILING PERVERTS.

See, at Nightwork we do employment screenings, with the occasional tenant screening thrown in.

Part of my job is to research people and find out what naughty business they’ve been up to.

And that includes researching for sex offenses.

I’ve only found one or two that are actually the applicant for whom we’re looking.

But the others are far, far worse: some of them SMILE in their mugshots.

Arresting officer: “Sir, you are charged with taking indecent liberties with a minor and 3rd degree sexual exploitation of a minor.”

Dirty old man (or woman): GRIIINNNNNNN

Sometimes, the perp’s mugshot shows them tentatively smiling, like they’re not sure if they should or they’re a first-timer, or maybe they just have no idea what’s going on.

Like this guy:

Sometimes, they have a smug smile, like “My uncle is a lawyer; I’m totally getting out of this” or “I’m drunk/high right now, so I really don’t care and think this is a joke”:

But the one I hate the most, the one that makes me want to track the fucker down and go vigilante on them, is when they smile like they’ve won the lottery (or at least a five-dollar scratch-off ticket):

Ew, dude. Just… ew.

I searched forever to find a good smiley one, and this isn’t even the best one. Worst one.. whatever. But, next time I find a prime example, I’ll be sure to share it with you.

it was almost enough to make me embarassed. almost.

this past weekend was nightwork’s Christmas party.

i wore leggings. LEGGINGS.

for the first time since i was about twelve.

i wore them with this top:

and even though, to some, i probably looked like a circus freak, i felt badass and had an awesome time.

i got kicked in the leg at a show afterward [following the highball glass full of liquor that ricocheted out of a guy's hand and onto me] so now i have a bruise and a cut.

and i feel even more badass.