AUTOGRAPH

Thursday, August 20, 2009

I ask M. if she'll sign an autograph for me using her famous "lightning bolt" in place of the letter "S."

She refuses on the grounds that I might sell her signature on eBay for profit.

M: "Jake, how do I know that you won't post my signature on the internet and get millions of dollars for it?"

Me: "I won't."

Instead of signing her name, M. decides instead to draw a picture of herself. She narrates as she draws.

M: "I have big beautiful eyes with really long eyelashes, so let's do this... And I'm totally ripped so let's make my midsection tiny and muscular... And then I need liposuction here so let's give me a big one of these... There."

Me: "Is that your ass? What about your chest?"

M: "My chest? Let's do this... and this... and make my feet like this..."

Me: "What is that big red outline around your mouth? Is that a rash?"

M: "Jake, those are my lips."

Me: "What about your arms?"

M: "My arms are like this... and don't forget my naturally beautiful nails..."

Me: "You're making yourself look like Wolverine."

M: "And let's make my butt bigger... like this because I got back."

Me: "You look like the mutated spawn of a Mermaid and Mer-Man. And you have two left feet!"

M: "My feet? Oh, I wear Gucci sandals that are really cute so we have to draw those..."

Me: "What are you drawing now? Is that your Zebra Bag?"

M: "Jake, It's bright and shiny so it sparkles. So do my cute sandals... And the glasses are D&C... and this is Victoria Secret..."

Me: "You've made yourself into a monster. I'm going to have nightmares."

M: "Jake, just because you weren't born with my artistic ability. This is art. I am going to be the next Picasso, or Picassa really. Don't be jealous."

Me: "I'm not. Is this really how you see yourself?"

M: "Jake, this is art, OK? This is a one of a kind that is worth millions."

Me: "Well then you have to sign it. You know, that cool way with the lightning bolt instead of an 'S'?"

M: "OK, but don't let me see this on eBay. I know you're going to forge my signature and create fake documents or sell my autograph."

Me: "You can't even read your name! Why did you change your signature?"

M: "Because I went home and thought about my life and I've made changes, Jake. Just because you can't draw as good as me. Don't be hat'n!'"

M. looks nothing like the drawing she made, nor does her real signature resemble the scribblings on the paper. But the lightning bolt is kinda cool.

I think I'll hang this in my cubicle for awhile and see what kind of attention it brings.

HEATH LEDGER

Friday, August 21, 2009

The following is a text conversation that occurred between M. and myself a few minutes ago. (I have decided to start using the initial "J." for myself. It should make conversations in the blog easier to read.)


M. (5:42 PM): "Have you seen the movie 'CANDY?'"

J. (5:58 PM): "The one with Heath Ledger? No, I haven't."

M. (6:00 PM): "Yes! I'm going to marry him one day. Watch it."

J. (6:03 PM) "Ummm... I don't know how to tell you this, M. But he's dead."

M. (6:07 PM): "NO ONE IS PERFECT, JAKE!"

J. (6:09 PM): "You can't marry a dead person. It's illegal and well, kinda gross."


She didn't respond.

OCTAVIO

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

M. is dressed in two shades of grey with her hair in a ponytail.

"Jake," she says, "I see that you like your desk in the same way you like your purses- BLAND."

J: "What?"

M: "I have this bejeweling kit. Jake. We can put pink sparkles all around your monitor!"

J: "No."

M: "Jake, when I look at your desk, I want to fall asleep. I'm like this: 'Oh, what a nice desk. Oh ::yawn:: what time is it? I am falling asleep.' So I got you this plant. His name is Octavio!"

J: "Thanks, M! I don't have much of a green thumb."

M: "Don't touch it, Jake. Don't water it, don't look at it, and don't touch it. DON'T LOOK AT IT! Just leave it alone and let it sit there on your desk. See? Ahhhhh. Don't look at it! I will give it plant food."

OHIOPYLE

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

M. has The Simple before noon today. She is laughing at everything, even if it's not funny.

"Jake, it's not just The Simple, it's... it's..." She pantomime's like she's squeezing a bouncy ball with both of her palms. "It's like this, Jake. It's Simple Pulp. I'm gonna take the pulp and I'm gonna throw it at you. You're gonna get pulp."

Today at work I received correspondence from Ohiopyle State Park in Pennsylvania. The correspondence contained a neatly typed letter and a small envelope that looked as though ducks had pooped all over it. Ducks, or buffalo.

M: "Ew! It looks like it's been dropped in the sewer."

J: "I'll give you $5 if you lick it from top to bottom."

M: "You will not give me $5."

J: "Yes I will. You won't do it. Gross!"

M: "Give me the envelope."

I handed it to her. Not only did M. lick the crusty disgusting envelope up and down, but after I complained that I couldn't see her tongue touch the poopy paper from where I sat, she did it again!

J: "I'm going to be sick."

M. sang "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" but replaced each animal with a strange accented name. Instead of 'duck,' she said 'duke.' Instead of 'cow,' she said, 'coo." She held her elbows out and her fists in front of her did a little farmer dance while she sang.

As the day progressed and people started going home, M. rearranged the little voodoo doll on her desk. She wrapped scotch tape all around the little woman's face and shoved push pins deep into the top of its head, then she whispered in it's ear, "Shut the f@&# up!" and hung the doll upside down from a plant vine on her desk.

The "Wind Bag" is in for a sucky night.


*On a side note, my cube mate saw the self-portrait M. drew hanging from my wall. She asked what it was. "I dunno," I told her. "What does it look like?"

Cube Mate: "From where I sit, the drawing looks like a horse going into a cave."


Classic!

25 WINDOWS

Thursday, August 27, 2009

M. did not come in to work today, nor was she here on Monday (hence no blog post), however we had a brief text conversation earlier:

M: "25 Windows, Jake! Don't be jealous."

(M. told us yesterday that she had to clean 25 windows and blinds last night. She is a self-proclaimed "clean-freak" but she hates cleaning windows.)

J: "How many did you get done?"

M: "5."

J: "Ha ha."

(It took me an hour and a half to respond to her last text so I offered an explanation.)

J: "Sorry for the delay. It's busy here at work where some of are SCHEDULED TO BE WORKING."

M: "What is this word? Ww ww work?"

J: "It's what you didn't do to 20 of the windows."

M: "Don't judge me, Jahke Cordovinski!"

J: "I never judge you, M.-insky-Squeaks. It's sexual tension."

M: "Ha ha. Take some fish pills."

(M. takes handfuls of vitamins everyday, yet for the life of her she cannot fathom why I take Omega-3 Fish Oil Pills. Actually, they are very healthy.)

J: "You spicy tramp!"

I miss M. when she's not here. Mostly because I can't see her cute Charlie Chaplain wiggle face. And also because nobody else laughs so loud at my jokes.