Category Archives: lisps

I have a new job, and now I like coming to work.

Forget that I don’t have an actual office anymore.  It’s cubicle city here, but I love it.

It’s really strange working for/with people who aren’t complete bitches/airheads/catty cuntrags.

God knows I have enough of those in my personal life.

I mean, I get here almost a full hour earlier than I did when I wrangled med students aka wiped their asses.

Sure, sometimes I get down and a little teary because I get an email involving a two-year-old in hospice care, but that comes with the territory.

I feel USEFUL and I don’t feel like anyone’s bitch [I was my ex-boss’s bitch times twelve].

Today, I got my first full paycheck from my new job and, while I’m not rich, I can definitely breathe a sigh of relief and my old job can suck it even more.

I’ m having lunch with the pentagenarian today, and I can’t wait to get more details on my ex-boss’s hibernation, since pentagenarian says she barely comes out of her office.

Oh, p.s.: Lady Criesalot got a new job, too. With my company’s competitor.  She has probably whispered and cried about four times at her new job now.

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The cast of characters

You may have noticed that I encounter quite a variety of characters in my daily life.  I’ve decided to make a list of them, along with short descriptions and links to longer entries about them.  I may even sneak in a couple of new ones.

1. Pentagenarian: the 50-something lady with whom I work.  Known for wearing short skirts and clicky shoes and walking REALLY fast around the office.  Hasn’t been  mentioned around The Fresh Cracker lately because she seems to be starting to comprehend the fine line between inquisitive and nosy.

2. Lady Criesalot: The early 20-something coworker who calls her parents “Mama and Daddy” even in conversation with others.  Cries almost daily over ex-boyfriends, current boyfriends, and her daddy being mean.  Likes to bust into my office yelling “Hola!” at the exact moment I’m furiously typing to get shit done.  Doesn’t get the hint when I continue typing and do not look at her.  Also, gets mad when I don’t have time to go to her office and show her basic HTML skills that a monkey could learn.  Google is your friend.

3. Gary Coleman: The very heavy and loud female coworker who looks like Gary Coleman but is somehow very cute at the same time.  Can get rowdy.  Sweats a lot and frowns on stairwells in favor of the elevator.  May keel over at any moment.  Is overall a sweetheart whose vocal cords are just a bit too developed.

4. Bible T-shirt Girl: The bane of my existence.  Okay, she’s not THAT important, but this [quite large] girl bugs.  Lately taken to repeatedly kicking her desk [which, incidentally, used to me MY desk until she bamboozled me one night. Desk is right beside me through a heaven-sent divider] and, making “I’m in tremendous pain” faces, making lists of “cool names” like EUGENIA (believe me, I saw it), and clucking like a chicken while at work.  This is when she ISN’T throwing snot rags at the lady adjacent to her. The lady adjacent to her is our next cast member.

5. Bad Singer Who Likes Tigger: Unfortunately, I have no previous entries about BSWLT.  Not that she isn’t becoming a MAJOR player in the cast of characters.  BSWLT can almost be combined with BTSG into one huge, stinking, noisy, annoying entity. That I would like to kill. She participates in snotrag volleyball with BTSG, sings/hums as loudly as possible, and, just last night, eyes me while mumbling incoherently as I walk into work.  Did I mention that she has Tigger cutouts and pictures frames all over her desk?  Like I told my coworkers the other night: Tigger is for five-year-olds and retarded people.  No offense to retarded people.

Thothe people with lithpth

Oh. My. Gah.

I just realized that there is a FOURTH person- grown-up person– that I know who has a lisp.

And I also realized this: all four of these people work in very close proximity to me.

What if lisps are contagiouth…?

CONTAGIOUS?

Thith lithp ith worthe than otherth I’ve heard.

Seriously, now.  Didn’t these people have speech therapy in elementary school?

What else is weird, though, is that I also know THREE people who obviously used to have a lisp, but DID undergo speech therapy.  They have a weird non-lisp with some ssss-y undertones.

I can’t quite explain it, but if you’ve ever heard it, you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about.

I’m going to ask you about your weekend so I can tell you about mine. In detail.

Lady Criesalot just came into my office.  And hovered.  WHILE I was in the process of combining honey and peanut butter to have peanut butter honey toast for lunch. (Long story short, if you want a sandwich at lunch now, you have to buy some four dollar piece of crap from the cafeteria instead of being able to make your own delicious cheese sandwich and I already got the bread before I realized they’d confiscated the sandwich makings.)

Anywho, as I’m fervently mixing up my concoction [complete with furrowed brow], LC is standing directly in front of my desk, asking about my weekend.

Or, as I like to put it, “Baiting me to open up the floodgates of her ultra-detailed and rather boring soliloquy about HER weekend.”

It is almost all I can do not to stop her and say, “Look. I understand that you’re going to miss athlete boy, I really do, but I really don’t want to hear a super-detailed version of what you did this weekend, complete with verbatim dialogue.”

But, she’d probably start whispering, crying, and doing the pouting baby face thing again.

I seriously think I spoke for about twenty seconds about my weekend before she launched into her diatribe.

She seems to have a lot of friends, so I’m wondering why she doesn’t just call them and regale THEM with the details.

Her listening skills also leave something to be desired.  When I say, “I’m not in a super great mood because I worked until ten pm last night and I’m way tired,” but I’m smiling and laughing and generally acting okay, then I don’t mean “OH MY DEAR LORD THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIIIIIIIIIFE!”

But she departs my office with, “Well, I hope your day gets better!”

It seems I either need to buy Lady Criesalot a hearing aid, or a crash course in not thinking histrionic behavior is something we all display.

p.s. I ate skittles the other day and one fell out of my hand and landed here:

skittletrash.jpg

Since it’s technically in the NO TRASH ZONE [aka just in the knot I made so the bag would stay put, but not necessarily near anything dirty], would it be completely disgusting of me to eat it?

I mean, come on, it’s an ORANGE skittle.  If it were lemon or grape, I’d say leave it.  If it were strawberry, I wouldn’t even be asking because it would already be in my mouth.

But ORANGE.  It ranks up there with lime: not my most favorite, but not easily discarded like lemon or grape.

What to do?

I swear I’m not insensitive, but this is just ridiculous.

I have decided to dub the girl who works in another department -but very close to me- Lady Criesalot.

She is a relatively sweet girl [although, sometimes, the sorority-girl-snob in her rears its ugly head, and sometimes she just acts like a complete cheeseball] of about 23, but she cries. At work. A lot. And usually in front of me.

Come to think of it, every single time she cries, it’s about a guy.

At first, it was her insanely tall and very goofy-looking boyfriend. Then, the athlete guy she began dating once ITAVG-LBF dumped her after two and a half years of dating.

Then, it was her dad, because he was being a jerk on the phone.

And countless other times, it’s been her rehashing her relationship with ITAVG-LBF.

A lot.

Yesterday morning, it was because athlete-boy is leaving.

I went into Lady Criesalot’s office to get help with untangling my fresh-from-the-shower hair from the hair elastic I had in it.

As I was turned from LC with her hands all in my hair, I asked, “Are you okay? Your eyes are red.”

She pauses, then whispers, “yeah”.  I knew she was about to cry.

Because she always talks in whispers when she’s on the verge of tears.  Not to mention, her lips turn down in what looks like a mock pouty-lip child’s face, but she’s really doing it.

The first time she did it, I almost laughed because I seriously thought she was joking.

This morning, she came into my office saying, “Do I smell like smoke?” as she began to come around to my side of my desk.

I absolutely abhor cigarette smoke in even the smallest amount, and she was about to come stick herself in my face so I could get a whiff of it.

I said, “Um, I don’t want to smell it.” (Was that mean?)

She left my office after that.

I wonder where she went.

Probably sitting in her office, whispering and crying.

Things that bother me: a lesson in being unreasonable.

When people have super-thick Southern accents.

This is unreasonable because I was born, have been raised, and will probably always live in the South and I have a freaking Southern accent! Well, there IS a difference between being Southern, Country, or just plain Redneck, but still.

Different foods touching on my plate.
God forbid my cantaloupe touches one iota of my green beans, or that my fries get “steak juice” on them. I’m the girl at large meals who has huge spaces on her plate between each food item. Running juices make me cringe and, many times, I’ve used my napkin to sop up anything extra to avoid cross-food contamination.

Fake grape, apple, and orange flavors.
Even though I’m all about some candy and lollipops, it bothers me to no end that, one day, someone just came up with these flavors and named them after fruits even though they bear no resemblance to the actual fruit flavors. I mean, I will eat an assload of grape laffy taffy, but the whole time I’m eating it, I’m really bothered by the fact that it is touted as grape but doesn’t come close to tasting like that which grows on a vine.

Clicky-shoes on my pentagenarian coworker.
Does it bother me when my 37-year-old boss wears slides? Nooooo. But whenever my52-year-old, deeply tanned, overly sexual coworker wears them, flitting around our office, I see red. Seriously, I think my blood pressure goes up a few points every time she walks by me. Maybe it’s because the clicky-shoes are often accompanied by a miniskirt [at work. at age 52.] and pentagenarian’s weird, “sticking-my-ass-out with my head cocked to the right” walk. I just absolutely cannot stand it when this woman wears clicky-shoes. Which, incidentally, is EVERY DAMN DAY.

People over the age of seven who have lisps.
Ok, so I know these people can’t help it. But, SERIOUSLY, did they not have speech therapy classes at these peoples’ elementary schools? I know THREE grown adults with lisps. THREE. Sometimes, I catch myself watching their mouths to see if I can figure out the mechanics of their tongue movements. Why do they lisp? Are their tongues too big? Are their mouths too small? Do they have too many teeth? I’m pretty sure I’ll never have the nerve to ask them. It’s even worse than the girl from my poetry class in college who said “bird” like “bud”. She had the R problem.

People who really, really like classic rock.
Maybe I’m just being an asshole, but the only classic rock song I’ve ever remotely enjoyed is “Stairway to Heaven” and even then, it’s not that great.

Harry Potter mania.
Again, maybe I’m just being an asshole, but I can’t stand that shit.  Wizards and the like have always seemed über-ridiculous to me.

People who have ferrets as pets.
I’m convinced that ferrets are the evilest creatures alive.  Their wee, beady eyes and the way they sniff everything are just creepy.  Not to mention, those suckers are LONG.  Never trust an animal that just looks like a stretched-out version of another animal.  I’ve always equated ferret-ownership with being a huge redneck whose house smells like cat [and ferret].  This redneck also smokes inside, beats their kids in public, and goes to the grocery store barefoot.

I’m sure there are a shit-ton more things that bother me.  You can expect a volume two in the (somewhat) near future.