Bad Girls

For your consideration: An IM conversation with one of my nearest and dearest coworkers. In which we conspire to maim or murder the voice on the other end of the company emergency call-in hotline that dragged our asses into work on time every day of this god-forsaken week, known herein as "Principal Skinner." Much self-adoration and incoherent silliness, etc.

Sprocketeer: may i go home now?
Sprocketeer: i'm like, dying over here man
Me: this day is draggggggggggging
Me: and i've wasted so much of it too
Sprocketeer: totally - i'm dying
Me: i'm experiencing rigor mortis
Sprocketeer: i'm experiencing work hatred
Me: i'm experiencing principal skinner murder fantasies
Sprocketeer: do tell!
Me: well, i was thinking of poisoning the water cooler, replacing his visine with tobasco, tampering with his pencil sharpener, or maybe just shooting him in his ugly little pig face...basically anyway to hurt him without coming into any direct contact with his greasiness
Sprocketeer: that sounds like a start. maybe you should throw in dumping a few gallons of honey on his head, tying him to a tree on top of a red ant hill. then stand there and laugh at his agony.
Me: mwa ha ha
Me: if i could think of a way to trick him into standing in the middle of the street, I could just run him over with a big truck
Sprocketeer: or just pelt him with skunks
Me: skunks with laser beams attached to their heads
Sprocketeer: ha
Sprocketeer: i'm dying laughing over here
Sprocketeer: if this isn't fresh material, i don't know what is
Me: we are so fricking hilarious
Me: we should totally be famous
Sprocketeer: i know!
Sprocketeer: step aside red buttons.... there's a new sheriff in town!
Me: i should put this on my blog...think anyone would recognize him?
Sprocketeer: probably but i say go for it
Me: "ugly little pig face" is kind of a giveaway
Sprocketeer: do you think he haggles over the price of a haircut at hair cuttery?
Me: i could edit it…there’s no journalistic integrity in the blog world
Sprocketeer: i think you should edit the blog and use the name "principal skinner"
Me: hee
Sprocketeer: i'm sure monday when the "wintry mix" arrives he will say we’re opening on time yet again and to do our best to work from home.
Me: what alias would you like?
Sprocketeer: for principal skinner or myself?
Me: for yous
Sprocketeer: sprocketeer
Sprocketeer: or superintendent chalmers
Me: am totally posting this
Sprocketeer: hee hee - tell me when you're done so i can take a gander
Sprocketeer: when are we having lunch again
Me: i'm so up for it anytime. i'm done with this place
Sprocketeer: let's go somewhere delish like rio grande... i'm having a craving big time
Me: mmmmm enchiladas
Sprocketeer: mmmmm complimentary chips and water
Sprocketeer: i luv me some queso
Sprocketeer: i think i will have spaghetti o's for dinner again
Me: oh my god i love spaghettios
Sprocketeer: i love dipping tostitos in them
Me: i still buy them and eat them all the time
Sprocketeer: i usually wait until the expiration date -- just to live a little
Me: i really need a puking smiley
Sprocketeer: i'm sure one exists
Sprocketeer: i feel like i haven't done jack squat today
Me: you have helped me with a blog entry, and that's noblest pursuit I know of
Sprocketeer: is it up?
Sprocketeer: did you conceal the identity of greazy pig face?
Me: not yet, plus you keep saying funny things that i want to include, so quit it

Confessions of an Anti-Dentite

Hola amigos. What up? I know it’s been awhile since I rapped at ya, but seriously, crazy shiat been going down on my end. No, that’s a total lie. (And a blatant case of Onion plagiarism.)

This week: Snow. Ice. Add DC drivers and stir. Repeat as needed for full annoyance.

My new assistant (who from this point forward shall be known as Eve3 for reasons that are hysterical to Me) starts on February 10, which is good, because the dry cleaners are threatening to give my clothes away if I don’t pick them up by then. Ha! Ba-dum-ching! Try the veal, etc.

I went to the dentist yesterday. Which I hate, but it was quick and painless and I got lots o’ praise for my fantastic oral hygiene. Oh, and see here…I know everybody hates the dentist, but seriously, I have reasons. (Warning: squicky tooth story ahead.)

When I was a teenager I had this one stubborn baby tooth that would not fall out. I needed braces so they yanked it and waited for the grown-up tooth to come in. And we waited. An X-ray showed that the grown-up tooth was growing in completely sideways. Freak show tooth, if you will. So I had to have this big oral surgery ordeal to attach a chain to freak show tooth so it could be yanked up gradually. It was awful. I was swollen for a week and in so much pain. And not just a throbbing toothache pain. More like they put my funny bone in my jaw and proceeded to whack it repeatedly with large, bulky office furniture.

But! Then! It gets even worse! I went for my first chain-yanking appointment at my orthodontist and some fuckwit dental technician yanks it TOO HARD AND THE ENTIRE CHAIN AND BRACKET CAME OUT THROUGH MY GUMS. This…stung. Just a bit. So I had to have the entire surgery all over AGAIN, right then and there in the orthodontist's office.

So seriously, I should get a medal or something for letting ANYONE touch my teeth now. And I very rarely bite anymore.

(Oh, and if anyone is still reading after that vile story, I just noticed last night that there is suddenly some mad amalah.com linkage going on, and I’m sorry I haven’t visited or reciprocated yet. According to Blogrolling’s search function, I’m still the most unpopular girl in blog school, so it’s weird. Because seriously! I’m cool now! My mom bought me deodorant! My freak show teeth are all fixed!)

Wet Feet, Cranky Brain

You remember when you were a kid and snow was predicted overnight and you got all excited and in the morning you would wake up and dash to the window and there was snow but not a lot but still! snow! and you'd rush to the radio and listen to the school closings and your school was like, the ONE super-lame school that was opening on time?

My job is now that super-lame school and now it's even worse because I can't take the bus here. Instead I have to get my ass up and outside and scrape a quarter-inch of ice off my car while trying to keep my balance on my (still) unplowed, unsalted street in heels and dorky $85 Ann Taylor pants. And my classes started yesterday, but they're both online so no snow days there either. Boo. Y'all, I hate being a grown-up so much sometimes.

Instead of having coffee this morning, I made hot chocolate. Because that's just what you do on snow days, regardless.

Somebody Else's Blessed Event

So the small yet extremely loud woman in the office directly across from mine is pregnant. Again. Much shrieking and congratulating and whatnot today. There are now at least two pregnant women working here, and sometimes? That's all it takes to make you feel like everybody in the whole bloody world is pregnant except you.

I hate you, World.

The 100 Things Bandwagon

And yes, if all the other cool bloggers e-jumped off an e-bridge, I’d do that too. Shut it.

1. My name is Amy.
2. It was Amy Beth Corbett.
3. Which made my initials ABC.
4. Which made life hard sometimes.
5. I blame the Jackson 5.
6. Now I’m Amy Corbett Storch.
7. Because I married Jason Storch.
8. Who is awesome.
9. And hot.
10. I dropped Beth because I didn’t want to be ABS.
11. Sometimes I wish I’d kept my name.
12. Not because of Jason or anything.
13. I’m just not sure I thought it through very well.
14. But you tend to do that when you get married at 20.
15. No, I wasn’t pregnant.
16. I’m 26 now.
17. Still not pregnant.
18. Am sad about that.
19. We have a cat named Max.
20. I call him Maximillian Thunderdome.
21. Because he’s mad, mad! and has a T on his chest.
22. He’s a traditional seal point Siamese.
23. Siamese cats get a bum rap because of Lady & The Tramp.
24. They are actually extremely affectionate and well-behaved.
25. Max thinks he’s people.
26. Yes, we call ourselves Mommy and Daddy to the cat.
27. We live in Northwest Washington, D.C.
28. And we love it.
29. I’m from Levittown, PA and then Newtown, PA.
30. I went to a Christian high school that I hated.
31. Not because I hate God or anything.
32. But because the people there were just plain scar-you-for-life mean.
33. But most of them still live with their parents so pffft.
34. I Google people I used to know compulsively.
35. I went to Penn State.
36. I majored in Communications and English.
37. I transferred to University of Maryland when I got married.
38. I got a full-time job before I finished.
39. I’m taking my last two classes now.
40. Because enough already.
41. I’m an editor.
42. Managing Editor, thank you very much.
43. I edit investment newsletters and advisory services.
44. It’s every bit as scintillating as you can imagine.
45. But I have my own office.
46. With a door and everything.
47. I have to wear suits to work.
48. Which is annoying and expensive.
49. I want to publish a novel.
50. But I need to write it first.
51. I am a bad skier.
52. But I try because Jason loves it.
53. My brother-in-law has a condo in Killington that we visit.
54. Last year I hit a tree on the bunny slope.
55. My leg hasn’t been right since.
56. It’s the same leg that was bitten by a German Shepherd named Duke in high school.
57. Duke was my boyfriend’s dog.
58. Duke had bitten two other people before me.
59. They didn’t tell me that until after he bit me.
60. I have wicked scars from it and bad veins.
61. Should have sued the assholes.
62. The boyfriend is a pastor now.
63. I know because I Googled him.
64. I ultimately broke up with him for Jason.
65. THANK GOD.
66. I have four brothers and two sisters.
67. They are all half-siblings.
68. Because we’re a blended family like the Brady Bunch.
69. Except that everyone hated each other.
70. It’s kind of better now.
71. I have one niece and three nephews.
72. My dad has had cancer three times in his throat and thyroid.
73. He lost most of his vocal chords and voice box.
74. Then he had an aortic aneurysm.
75. He nearly died.
76. Then he had a heart attack.
77. He’s still here though.
78. And doing better.
79. I’ve had problems with depression, anorexia and panic disorders.
80. But I’m doing better too.
81. I hate picky eaters. Just eat it already.
82. I spend too much money on makeup and handbags.
83. I have blonde hair and brown eyes.
84. I do get my hair colored.
85. But to a shade of blonde that’s darker than the shade of blonde that I actually am.
86. Seriously.
87. But I’m not a really girly girl.
88. Seriously.
89. I swear a lot.
90. I have two tattoos.
91. My favorite TV shows are The Simpsons, South Park and Family Guy.
92. My TiVo thinks I’m a 13-year-old boy.
93. I adore reality TV shows.
94. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.
95. Well, maybe a little.
96. I adore my friends.
97. I will take on anyone who hurts them.
98. My feelings get hurt too easily.
99. I still lip-synch into my hairbrush and practice Oscar acceptance speeches in front of the mirror when I think no one’s around.
100. Comments brighten up my whole day.

I Am the Boss of You

By popular demand (one person, but that's all it takes around here), the interview went fan-tab-u-lous. Getting me an assistant y'all. And she already lurves me.

Although everyone gave me great suggestions for interview behavior (all involving the Muppet finger puppets, oddly enough), I kinda winged it. (Wung it? See, this is why I need an assistant.) I sort of cleaned my office, but still couldn't find her resume under the pile o' crap on my desk at first. Then I misplaced the list of standard interview bullshit I'd been given, and I dropped my pen and kinda dinged my head on my desk when I was getting it.

Endearing though, right?

Anyway, we talked and tawwked and she seems smart and eager and bored out of her mind at her current job. So yeah, plenty of life and soul to suck out in the months to come.

And! Then! My boss's boss's boss stopped by to tell that when he talked to her, all she'd talked about was me! Me! Meeeeee! That she was interested in the job before but then she met me and I was so funny and nice and smart and totally where she wants to be so I could totally be a mentor and she could learn a lot and like, just totally. She wants the job. Rawk.

So hopefully she's not totally psycho and/or directly after my job. Because God help me, I'll sic the Muppet posse after her.

Short Bits and Follow-Ups

After looking at my stats and referrers, I must conclude that Tolkien was mistaken: all who wander here ARE lost, actually. While amalah.com is rife with keywords, it's horrifically devoid of actual content.

So I shall address a few Google search terms, because I'm bored:

Ford fuel pump recall: Yeah, you know what? Don't bother. Even though the cause of this recall (car stalls or nearly stalls in low gears on low fuel) has been well-documented and complained about since the Focus was first produced, Ford just issued the notice...but still, the parts won't be available until next month. If you car stalls, the best they'll offer you is an "interim" repair, which sounds way scary and sketchy -- like duct tape, gum and a blowtorch.

When I took my car in for the Battery Incident, I asked about the fuel pump recall. Yeah, uh-huh. Got the car back with the following note on my bill: Fuel pump recall: Parts may be in next month. Ford, it’s a RECALL, for god's sake. It’s the car equivalent of YOU called ME. And then asked who the hell I was and why you were speaking to me. And then kept me on hold for hours and hours and then hung up.

So. Ford fuel pump recall. Call first, plan to take your car in February. In the meantime, either keep your gas tank full and happy or be prepared to be the idiot who stalls at lot.

Oxygen network schedule: This is my fault. I have bitched and bitched about TiVoing AbFab episodes on Oxygen, only to end up with Roseanne eps. I finally cracked the elusive scheduling code and believe that the fault may not lie with Oxygen, but with my digital cable, brought to you by the clowns at Starpower. Oxygen is being broadcast a mystifying three hours behind. Why? We do not ask, we do not know.

But I now record Girls Behaving Badly at midnight on Friday night and wake up Saturday morning with a brand-spanking-new episode of Absolutely Fabulous that supposedly aired at 9 pm.

So I guess Oxygen didn't deserve all of my ire, but they still suck because they air exactly four things: Girls Behaving Badly, which is not nearly as funny as it could be; Roseanne reruns; Oprah After the Show, for those who just can't let go of the big O after only one hour; and some sex advice show with a host who thinks that she makes the show edgy and scintillating by holding up dildos occasionally. Also: old Meryl Streep movies you've never heard of.

an open letter to the guy who stole: Stole your what? What did he steal? Your bike? Your wallet? Your dignity? How can I help you if you don't give me the whole story? And why did you conduct the search twice within an eight hour period? I can see these things. Did you steal my bike? Don't leave me hanging, random Googler!

I want your bod; bod men commercials; men shirtless bod; body fantasies ad; bod men must die; etc.: It's official!! Those horrid commercials have infiltrated the psyches of Americans everywhere! We Google endlessly, looking for a purpose or point to the mystery that is the Bod Men! But there is none to be found! We want your bod! We all want your bod!

Boss Lady

I have my very first interview tomorrow. I mean, it's my very first time as interviewer instead of interviewee. Professional virgin territory. Wait...that doesn't sound right...I mean, I'm not a professional virgin (methinks the jig is up on that one), but as a professional, this is vir--

Oh hell.

Yeah, I'm the big managing editor 'round here and I cannot write worth a damn today. Kiss my ass, interview person. I don't need to write good no more, because I plan to make it all your job.

I got the résumé and it's kind of scary-impressive. And I wore my best professional-yet-stylish suit today. Dammit. Is my pinstripe back from the cleaners? And my office is a mess. I should clean if we're going to have company. Or should I leave it messy so I look busy and super-important?

I think I should move the talking Pets.com sock puppet. And maybe the Muppets finger puppets. Seriously, what is with all the puppets? I'm insane. I have a talking tribble and a Justin Timberlake bobblehead doll that I got at the dollar store. In my office, for Christ's sake.

Should I have questions written out in advance? Here's what I'm thinking:

1) What contestant from Survivor do you most identify with and why?

2) Coke or Pepsi?

3) If you take the name of your first pet and the name of the first street you lived on, what do you get? (Me? Annie Twin Oak.)

Should I take notes or just stare intensely and go "Mm-hmm" occasionally? Oh oh! I should just stay silent after they've finished answering my question so they feel the need to keep talking, and then once they really get going again I'll interrupt with the next question. That would be cool.

Fear me, interview person. But also like me. Because I'll be the coolest boss ever. I mean, Muppet finger puppets! That's cool! Right?

Right?

Um, Yeah?

Max would like to know why y'all gotta be all up in his grill.

Newsgroupies Redux

Post of the day from my office's "For Sale" newsgroup:

FREE - Mexican Sombrero Hat

One adult size sombrero -straw with colorful brim -- FREE. Barely used at Company Cinco de Mayo event 5+ years ago

Ohhhh...kay.

(I am sorry to report that the hat was claimed a few hours later.)