There will be future discussions, I’m sure, about how much I like my new job. Because not only do I like it, I love it so damn much I want to wrap it in a furry blanket and kiss it’s cold wet nose. Let’s not forget that a scant couple of months ago I was seriously considering offering my skills up for the Toilet Paper Roll Changing Specialist position because I’d rather spend my day inside a mirrored and linoleumed environment changing half-empty toilet paper rolls than participate in one more second of the fiery hell of being an Ass Wiping Specialist. And though I deemed my previous job title an “Ass Wiper” please know that it had nothing whatsoever to do with what happens in a bathroom. Which makes it all the more revolting because the Ass Wiping was happening in a non-sterile and open floor plan environment. So it might be possible that I’m a bit overly enthralled with my new job because in comparison to the stomach-churning work from a mere 10 days ago THIS PLACE IS LIKE THE FLUFFY CLOUD WHERE THE CAREBEARS LIVE.
And what’s really great is that, though I’m only two floors down from my previous cubicle, the walls are so thick and fireproof that you can’t even hear the incessant screaming and wailing as each employee takes his turn on the roasting spit, hoping that this might be the day when he doesn’t have to go home and toss his smelly smoke infested clothing in the bin whilst scraping the burned rotting flesh off his abdomen.
Topic Change:
Today on lunch I went to The Purple Cow and tried to convince the manager that because I was wearing purple velvet shoes I should get a free purple milkshake because obviously I’m the most loyal customer ever. He didn’t so much buy into my theory but that’s okay. I left my gum under the table.
KIDDING.
Back to original topic, sort of:
People in my new job wear lots of man-loafers and dress pants. Not just pressed khakis, which are the bare minimum a male can get away with, but ACTUAL dress pants. With belts, even. And they say things like “We had the in-laws over this weekend…” and “When the electrician came last week….” and “I tried out this new fertilizer on my azaleas…” It’s a whole ‘nother world down here. And GOD HELP ME but I just got that damn Aladdin song stuck in my head. The one where they sing to each other on the flying rug. Don’t judge me; I spend a lot of time with children under the age of four. I won’t lie to you either, I sometimes sing that song in my kitchen while I’m waiting for my 96 cent Michelina’s Lean Gourmet to cook it’s required three minutes and thirty seconds in the microwave.
My kitchen has great acoustics.
8 comments:
Praise be! You've made it to a whole 'nother floor & a whole 'nother way of life.
Although I've never fertilized my Azeleas. Hmm, maybe thats why they're dead.
And thanks a million for getting that damn song stuck in my head. Gah.
I just turned around to my boss, looked him straight in the face and sang, "Don't you dare close your eyes."
And when he looked at me and said, "What?" I replied, "Hold your breath it gets better."
Imagine me doing that with the appropriate amount of American Idolesque head jerking and bobbing to accentuate my vibrato and you've got the maximum hilarity that was my last 5 seconds.
I'm so getting fired for suspected drug use.
Are you guys hiring?
Birdie, you are moving on to Big Time. Watch out because that having families and owning homes may just rub off on you.
* * *
My daughter (and YES I MEANT IT!) turned one over the weekend and is already mildly cranky. If you want to a picture of Her Royal Highness, e-mail me.
So you have access to the company liqour cabinet now?
"A whole new world
A new fantastic point of view
No one to tell us no
Or where to go
Or say we're only dreaming"
that's cuz you got that shit stuck in my head. and cheers to ya on the new job.
I'm so happy for you. The kind of happy where its a pink cupcake sprinkled with those little silver balls.
Why are those absolutely the coolest cake decorations EVER.
make sure you stop by the old office and revel in the glory of your newfound work haven. A little gloating does the body good. And seeing the eviscerated bodies will remind you of just how good you've got it.
My friends and I had a discussion just the other night about how unjust it is that the Aladin song isn't carried in all karaoke bars. Of course, by "my friends" I mean "my gay harem."
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