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11:12 a.m. - 2005-05-13
The Good, the Bad, and the Totally Pissing Me Off
As birthdays go, I'd have to file my 31st under the "weird" category. The day started out in a rather icky fashion. I didn't get my shit together and was late for work (only five minutes, but I'm really trying to be better about that). The parking garage chick was all snarly at me (she does this a few times a week. She's either your best friend or acts like you just farted noisily in her face). I get to work, and I make some feeble attempt at working. Said attempt involved the copier.

Let me state, for the record, that I hate secretarial work. Filing tops the shit list, followed closely by copying and kissing ass.

Unfortunately, due to budget cuts (the same sort which led to being laid off), we have no more secretary/admin assistant people. So we have do it all ourselves.

Anyway, back to my story. I'm at the copier. I'm attempting to make some copies. I stick some papers in the document feeder, assuming that, because there is no staple visible on either the top or the bottom of the small stack, that the document contained no staples.

Beep, wrong, thank you for playing.

Of course, the document feeder makes noise, rips some pages, and then wedges the staple-y corner underneath some little plastic part. Attempts to gently tug the paper wad + staple out failed miserably. I began dissasembling the copier, trying in vain to find the lever which would make the paper magically fall out. After fifteen minutes, various obscenities, and a cut on the knuckle of my left pinky, I finally succeed in removing the offending paper + staple. I then mend the torn documents, place the now unstapled originals back in the document feeder, and hit the start button. The pages go through, and the machine begins making the noises that indicate production of duplicate set. Success.

Not so fast, there, cowboy.

Error message about paper being jammed in the document feeder. Obligingly, I re-disassemble the copier, and discover that there is no paper to be found anywhere within the document feeder apparatus. More cursing. I finally call our copy guy. He says that he can't fix it and has to call in the professionals.


After this debacle, I return to my office feeling like somehow I'd skipped over the 12th and gone straight to Friday the 13th.

Luckily, things started to improve. I got a present from my friend, e-cards from BFRB and my current office mate, and it was almost time for lunch with some friends. Lunch was yummy, they bought, and we had fun. I come back to the office, find lots of good happy birthday wishes from my D-land buddies, and make plans to go eat steak for dinner with BFRB.

Dinner was also yummy, and then we decided to go buy some camping gear. For the Roo, ya know. Our tent, which we've been eyeing for a month, which BFRB had some silly dream about (we set it up on a street median thingy and then a whole bunch of other people did too), was even on SALE.

Of course, while we're at Target purchasing said tent, raiding the 75% off clearance racks, and looking for a birthday present for GEB, GID calls on my cell phone.

Do I get a "happy birthday?" No. The fucker KNEW. He called me specifically to ASK when it was earlier this week. We've made plans to go out this WEEKEND to celebrate. All he does once I answer the phone is bitch about his horrible day. And he didn't call or e-mail when he got off work, either….had he done so, I would have cut the boy a little slack since he was having a bad day.

No slack will be cut. His ass will be chewed.

Lest I sound like a psycho girlfriend type here, let me just remind you that (a) I've been dating him for almost a year and a half; (b) I remembered HIS fucking birthday, even the one that happened a month after we started dating; (c) I didn't expect him to do anything that required effort, i.e., flowers, card, present delivered to office, etc. He actually DID call…he just forgot to say two words. Keep in mind, too, that he's the one who's been trying to assert that this is a "serious" relationship, not me. If he had never used the word "girlfriend" in a sentence, nor implied that such a relationship existed (that is, if we were just calling ourselves fuck buddies), I wouldn't give a rat's ass whether he remembered or not. But, since he has made such a "when is it, let me take you somewhere nice for dinner" deal out of it, and then calls me being a fucknut and acts all pissy and says nothing…well, that's an actionable offense.

Tonight is when I will be getting my birthday party on with my friends. GID has to work and therefore is not invited….and I'm not answering my phone if he calls. Let the asshat wonder.



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