Hay, now . . .

So I'm the designated shopper for the school that I work at which is great because it combines two of my favorite things: shopping with someone else's money and getting paid for it. It's a pretty sweet deal.
Whenever one of the teachers needs something from the store, she submits a purchase request and every other Monday I buy the approved items.
Last week one of the teachers requested a bale of straw.
"Okay," I thought, "that should be easy enough."

Right.

First comes the problem of where to buy a bale of straw in the middle of a semi-big city. Called around. Struck out at Wal-Mart, Dan's, and Smith's.
Finally I got lucky with Albertson'sIt'sYourStore.
So I head to Albertson'sIt'sYourStore thinking this is going to take 15 minutes and I'll be back at my desk in no time.
Well, was I in for a treat.
I went up to the customer "service" counter (is that how to do sarcasm online?) and the lady had no idea what I was talking about. Apparently I threw her off when I referred to it as a "bale of straw" rather than a "straw bale."
After I paid for the "straw bale" I asked where the bales were located so I could put one into my SUV and be on my way.
"They're all out front."
"You mean the ones covered in pumpkins?"
"Yeah."
"But they're all covered in pumpkins," I said.
"Well, you can take the pumpkins off," was her helpful reply.
By the way, I am wearing a skirt and heels.

So there I am, in my heels, lugging pumpkins off a huge straw bale. I chose the bale based on the least amount of pumpkins I had to move, but I swear I still moved about 12 dirty, heavy pumpkins.

Then came the fun part of actually getting this straw back to school. I heave it into the back of my SUV and, in the process, completely cover myself and my cargo area with straw.

I never knew how heavy straw is.

Back at school, I take the straw out of my car and leave it in the parking lot while I jog inside.
I grab a large garbage bag out of the custodial closet and head back to the parking lot, thinking that I can put the straw inside and avoid covering my clothes with straw again.
Unfortunately, a bale of straw is bigger than a garbage bag.

After much heaving and huffing, I carry that stupid straw up to the building, leave it outside the classroom of the teacher who requested it, and go back to my office where my boss laughs hysterically when she sees my appearance and hears the story of how it all came to be.

Oh, yeah. And I think I'm allergic to straw because I now have a reddish, itchy rash on my arms and hands.

So, I think I'm going to go home now, in my car that smells like a barn, and take a bubble bath.

Today was good and bad.

Today was one of those days that doesn't really qualify as a good day, but it doesn't quite make it to "bad day" status. It was just a medium day.

Good things:
-My sister made me lunch today and it was muy bueno.
-I rocked out to Bon Jovi on my way to work. Always puts me in a good mood.
-I'm wearing my favorite skirt today and I'm not lying when I say I look smokin'.
-The Office is on tonight! Can't wait! Cause that show is awesome! Hooray!

Bad things:
-My little sister was out here visiting for the past week and she went home today. Sad.
-The IT guy at work came by today and confirmed my suspicions that he is an idiot. By the way, I cannot access any of my files or my email until he can send someone over tomorrow to fix whatever he did today. (Note: this is a totally different IT guy that the one previously mentioned on this blog. That guy actually knew what he was doing.)
-There was a really big deal going through today at work that I kinda dropped the ball on. Due to my slick maneuverings I was able to iron most of it out, but I was the one who caused the problem in the first place and I feel like an idiot.

So, just a medium day.

Hatred

The other day, I heard someone say, "I hate him!"

This got me to thinking about the nature of hatred. I can't really comprehend the idea of "hate" and I think that may be because I've never experienced it. I've disliked people, to be sure, and I can honestly say that I hate mushrooms (hate them!), but I've never truly hated a person.

I'm reminded of a line from a painfully cheesy movie that goes something like, "I didn't know what love was until I met you." Do you think that's the way hatred works, too? That you can't understand the idea until you experience the feeling? This may be why many people are confused by "hate crimes" and terrorism. Because probably most people do not experience the feeling of hate.

I really have no clue. Anyone have any thoughts?

Irritated

I try not to get irritated very often, but when some jerky IT guy comes over to MY HOUSE and is completely condescending because I didn't attend Nerdapalooza this year, I get a little riled.

Mr. Computer Guy stopped by MY HOUSE to password-protect my modem and he was blocked out because the default access code did not work. This was apparently my fault because I'm a complete idiot and did not know the "technical term" for "wireless networking". After an hour and a half of his boorish behavior, I politely asked him the "technical term" for "shut the heck up." Then, I asked him to take a look at my firewall settings as I hadn't been able to access Limewire and he talks for 15 minutes about how he downloads anime movies off Limewire. In an effort to sound interested, I told him my favorite riddle:

Q. Why did the man watch anime movies?

A. Because he was overweight and lived in his mother's basement and had no friends.


Apparently, that wasn't his brand of humor. I, on the other hand, had to leave the room for a few minutes to get myself under control.

I think I'll stick to Rehlaj, my Motorola Customer Service Representative. At least I can't understand him when he calls me an idiot.

I Heart Mormons

I went to a session of Conference* this afternoon and it was pretty amazing. Mostly because I was with my amazing brother who makes me laugh even when I'm really cold (i.e. cranky).
Anyway, there were the usual protesters on the surrounding street corners, determined to tear apart our faith or at least fleck spittle in our general direction. I was surprised at how many protesters were there as it was snowy and drizzly and very, very cold. To be perfectly candid, the protesters didn't bother me at all; they were pesky at best, a few were downright comical.

Amid all these people who were shouting something about all Mormons going to hell, there was one woman, probably in her mid-twenties, strikingly beautiful, standing on a platform and holding up a large sign (maybe 4 foot square) that read "I HEART MORMONS."

I thought that image was so striking: a group of people spouting messages of hate and anger and a lone woman with a statement of acceptance and tolerance and love.


Beautiful.



*If you don't know what Conference is, look up "Worship services of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints" on Wikipedia.

Stalker update.

I did it! I answered the phone when Stalker called tonight. I heard people in the background for 2 seconds before Stalker hung up.



That was a bit anti-climactic, wasn't it?

IQ

I hate it when people brag about their IQ scores.

"Hey, my IQ is very high and, because it is an accurate measurement of intelligence, that proves that I'm smarter than you."

"No. That merely proves that you are a total ******." (word removed at request of blogger's mother)

Cell phone stalker.

So apparently I have a stalker, which is pretty cool. I don't often get stalked and I'm fairly excited about this.

This person, hereafter refered to as Stalker, calls me several times each day but hangs up after 10 seconds or so and always hangs up before I can answer it. I've tried calling the number back, but I get Ms. Automated-Voice who tells me the number is no longer in service.

The number is area code 954 which, according to anywho.com, is a Ft. Lauderdale, Florida number. I don't think I know anyone in Florida besides my Grandma who very rarely stalks people and only when her soaps aren't on.

In the past 24 hours, I have received 6 phone calls from Stalker. My reflexes are improving because every time my cell rings or someone's cell rings or I hear a noise that sounds like it maybe could be similar to a cell ringing, my hand shoots across my desk to grab said cell. I'm never fast enough, but I've gotten pretty close a few times. I think people walking by my office will think I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown because every time I hear a noise, I basically have an epileptic seizure.


Yeah, I can already tell that I'm not going to be very productive today.

Not to mention your cankles.

An acquaintance recently asked me, "Kim, why am I still single?" to which I replied, "I don't know. Sometimes it's just the timing."

But I really should have said, "Perhaps it is your poor personal hygiene. Or your foul disposition."

Metal shard in knuckle

Today, when I was opening up my third Diet Pepsi for the day, I received an unpleasant surprise in the form of a metal shard in my left index knuckle. It really hurt but I couldn't get it out by normal methods (sucking, squeezing, cursing). I then remembered something someone told me about getting splinters out: cover the area in glue, wait for it to dry, then peel it off and the splinter should come right out.
So there I am at my desk applying glue to my finger and blowing on it to dry it when my boss walks in asking about a fax and some paperwork and whatnot and of course I don't want her to see me with glue all over my hand and think that I'm deranged or really bad at gluing stuff or whatever so I'm trying to hide my hand from view while she's talking to me.
First instinct was to put glue-hand in my lap until I realized that I'm wearing a dry-clean-only skirt, so that idea's out. So I just try to ignore glue-hand and hope Boss walks away before noticing it.
Boss turns to leave my office and I smile, thinking that I'm pretty sneaky, when she looks back and asks slightly alarmed "What's all over your hand?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Like, maybe glue or something . . ."


What was she doing in my office, anyway?

Attention Roommates:

Contrary to popular belief, coming home at all hours of the night and stomping around in high heels on the hardwood floors will not make me like you. Neither will turning on every light in the house before going to bed. If you continue such behavior, I will retaliate in a passive-aggressive manner, such as taking out the garbage by myself every single time. So there.

I hope you learned your lesson, missy!

Chemo-head

Whenever I see someone wearing a hat that looks stupid, I want to make fun of them but then I think "What if they have cancer and they're just covering up their chemo-head?" and then I feel like a jerk for making fun of sick people.