Best. Birthday. Ever.
Friday, Jan. 16, 2004 @ 11:42 p.m.
So hi there. Our internet has been spotty at home and I don't dare even read Diaryland at work, so updates are going to be sparse. Today, however is my birthday, so I figured I'd write an entry at work and upload it later. Fight the power and all that.
Second year running, I'm working in the kind of office where nobody knows its my birthday and if they did know, they wouldn't care. Whatever. I guess I could tell them but I don't want to be That Girl, so I'll be a Birthday Martyr instead. Woe is me! It's my birthday but I live it alone in my head!
I am, however, wearing a simply smashing pair of birthday jeans - perfectly cut dark denim Sevens, found ON SALE no less. I adore them with a love that's shameful. When I was out shopping for them at the Ridiculously Expensive and Trendy Jeans Store I also tried on Mayapple’s beloved Citizens of Humanity Kate jeans and made whiny pug noises of joy at how great they are. Then I took them off and asked the sales guy to never let me try them on again. Or touch them. Or look at them.
This week at work has been surprisingly un-horrible. It hasn't been great or anything, but I've managed to make it almost a full work-week without crying. Progress? Who knows. My boss has managed to be nice (at least to me) this week, but really, I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm suspicious, for real. What is she planning?
Here's something hilarious- my boss clearly doesn't understand that Temp is short for TEMPORARY. She hired four temps to be "callers" (a job I view with complete and utter horror) last week. One quit on the first day. One was fired after a week. One was offered a full-time job elsewhere and quit without notice, which infuriated my boss. She thought it was terribly unprofessional of the temp to not give notice. Why take an assignment she couldn't finish? Ha. Maybe because she's a TEMP? Lord, why the hell would anyone jeopardize a permanent job opportunity by staying in a horrible temp job? Oh please! Please don't make me quit my low-paying cold-call temp job! I love it so!
Holy GOD, what a slow day. I'm currently here completely alone because everyone else has been working overtime and got the afternoon off. It seems cruel, somehow, that I'm here alone on my birthday, fielding phone calls from idiots. Case in point: Some fool calls the State-I-Don't-Live-In toll-free line and asked about licensing for his business. I told him who to call. Then, not 30 seconds later, I get a State-I-Don't-Live-In business-support chat from the same guy. Asking the same question. I gave him the same freaking answer. Dude, CALL THE NUMBER I GAVE YOU. THE FIRST TIME.
My co-workers are generally nice people, but damn annoying too. One guy likes to walk around snapping his hands so that his knuckles slap together. I know, it's horrible. It makes this noise I cannot even describe. He also likes to sing as if he's playing the drums with a brush - like that swishy drum sound? Only he sings it. I just grit my teeth and wait for it to stop.
Then there's the horror that is Fish Woman. I've told you about her before I think. She's very motherly and condescending and wears her pants up high, right below the boobs. This is horrible to say, but she totally gives me the creeps. She is one of those people with has no concept of personal space and will sidle RIGHTUP to you. It makes me want to place my hands on her shoulders and just shove her back a few steps so I don't have to be up close and personal with her crusty frosty pink lipsticked mouth. Gaaah. I'm grossing myself out.
Her husband came to pick her up today and he has an astonishing comb-over. It starts waaaay in the back and swoops all the way over - similar to Donald Trump's (who has, like, eleventy billion dollars, so you think he'd be able to buy some decent hair. Speaking of Donald, have you been watching The Apprentice? Yikes, right? His apartment is the most God-awful tacky thing I've ever seen. All the money in the world won't buy taste, people. Guess that's why he has the hair he has.)
So, earlier this week I was emailing Kate and Kenny about my birthday and I mentioned I wanted pony rides and ice cream cake. Kate thought the ice cream cake was do-able, but when I sent her a link to rent-a-ponies she wrote back and said it was a total rip-off because the weenie ponies could only carry 80 lbs. Oh, snap! So I wrote Kenny to complain and he told me not to worry because Anderson Cooper would be bringing some tough and hardy ponies down from NY. This joke went back and forth for some time.
So, today, I came home from work and checked the voice mail. People, there was a VOICE MAIL MESSAGE FROM ANDERSON COOPER. EXPLAINING WHY HE COULDN'T BRING THE PONIES.
I am not making this up. It really was him. ANDERSON COOPER CALLED ME. ABOUT PONIES.
Apparently Kenny emailed him earlier today and told him to please call and explain why there would be no ponies. AND HE DID. I still can't believe it. So awesome. Best. Birthday. Ever.
PS. There was also calamari and pasta and wine and grilled tuna and ice cream cake and a pom-pom hat and Origins ginger scrub. The end.