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10:23 p.m. - 2005-09-06
\"My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don't Love Jesus\"

It's been so long since I had a first day at a job that I might possibly keep for a while, that I had forgotten how freaking exhausting that shit is.

It does not help when the person who is training you has an office at the opposite side of the building. Nor does it help when the printer/scanner/copier is a gabillion miles from your desk. These things especially suck when you are spending your first day in real shoes after four months of flip-flops being acceptable office dress.

However, my office is cool. It's big, and it has a window, and I DON'T HAVE TO SHARE. And I think I might actually get business cards again. I love business cards. They make me feel like such an adult.

I have had a fascination with business cards since I was a kid. My dad always seemed to be switching job titles, and so he would bring home the boxes of his old business cards for me to play with. I used them for name tags when I was playing school with my stuffed animals and dolls. I used them as the library check-out cards when I played library (yes, I was a little nerdy-girl. Shuddup.) I colored different designs on each one. I made them into my own business cards. Ever since then, I just love them. When my friends get them, I always want one.

There are some weird vibes going around the new office. I think I was supposed to be hired to replace someone...but she's still there. I worked with her at the Great Lay-Off Job of Death, and I thought she was weird, but she was in a completely different department, so I was unable to confirm this suspicion. Apparently, only one attorney (out of 10) likes her. The rest? Do not want her touching anything. And the other paralegal wants her to vanish, because she does not understand simple things like docketing hearing dates and that it's not appropriate to call a witness directly if said witness is represented by counsel and IS AN ADVERSE PARTY IN ANOTHER LAWSUIT. Even you non-legal folks understand that, right? That if someone is a named defendant in a lawsuit where you are the plaintiff, you don't call them up and go "hey, can you help us out with an affidavit in this other case?"

So I don't know what I'm going to be doing, exactly, or why she is still there. I also cannot determine yet if the other paralegal is okay, or if she is a melodramatic martyr drama queen. Should be interesting. If nothing else, she will provide fodder for my snark cannon.

Unfortunately, on my very first day of work, I had to take a long lunch. Over the weekend, some complete ass-ramming fuck-nugget slashed through my convertible top. It's not a little slash. It's huge. It goes almost 2/3 of the way across, and then down the side.

Of course, being a holiday weekend, my insurance adjuster regretfully informed me that I couldn't take it anywhere until today. She further informed me that (a) my deductible is $500 and (b) I don't have rental coverage. Those economies seemed like a lovely idea at the time...but now, not only am I going to be out at least $600 for this whole adventure for a car I want to get rid of, I'm sure that my premiums will be increasing exponentially. Furthermore, the body shop they insist upon in Moore. Which is almost to Norman. Which is nowhere near downtown, where I live and JUST STARTED A FREAKING JOB. Which also allegedly had a rental-car office, but not really. And which also is in the middle of a lovely road construction project, and requires a completely fucked-up detour to reach.

Rental car dude showed up pretty fast at the body shop...but then, once we reached his evil lair, I waited. And waited. And listened to a complete idiot tell them that she needed a ride to the body shop, but she didn't know what it was called or where it was. Said moron also dropped off the car at the wrong branch of the business. During this waiting, know what Mr. Rental Dork was doing? HAVING THE CAR WASHED. Like I care? Um, jackass, I care more about not getting fired on my very first day of work, mmmkay?

The body shop says my car will be done by Friday. THIS Friday.

At the same time, the war in Iraq will end, Bush will nominate a liberal to the Supreme Court, everybody will love everybody in the good old USA, and monkeys will sprout wings and fly out my ass.

I should have photographed what I had to do to the car this weekend to guard against rain. First, it was duct tape. Lots and lots of duct tape. The duct tape snarled into a giant gooey mess when I drove it on the highway. Then, I bought a drop cloth and some safety pins. I sort of pinned the rip together, stretched the plastic across, and anchored it with the windows. That lasted about 3 miles, until the safety pins flew out and the tarp was flapping wildly behind me like a White Trash Rampart.

However, by that time, I was on the way home from a pool party at BHB's house. I was full of mango daiquiris and Brie and lemonade pie (oh my sweet lord, that stuff was dangerous). So I didn't really give that much of a shit.

Finally, thanks to the Pimp for my mega-CD...even if he DID put that stupid White Stripes song on there that is now permanently wedged in my head.



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