COME BACK AS A WASP

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

M. brings in a 12" statue of Buddha. It is made of a clear, see-through glass tinted a beautiful emerald green. The head is tinted yellow.

J: "Your Buddha looks like Jolly Rancher candy!"

M: "No he doesn't."

J: "What does he taste like?"

M: "Jake, stay away from my Buddha!"

I can't help myself. Something about the way he looks forces me to run my fingers all over his little bumpy head.

M: "Jake, what are you doing? Stop it! Do you want to be reincarnated as a wasp?"

I go back to my desk, giggling in fits of laughter.

M: "Jake, you are a conversation. I am a press conference."

J: "What?"

M: "You heard me. You are a trash can and I am the city dump."

J: "Did you get that from a rap song?"

M: "Jake, two things. Number one- don't touch my Buddha! Number two-"

As soon as she says 'Buddha,' I am out of my chair in a mad dash to touch the Buddha head again. It's hypnotic.

M: "Jake! What are you doing? You're so bad. Stop it! You're going to come back in another life as a wasp. Is that what you want?"

J: "I bet he tastes like watermelon."

M: "Stop it. I'm going to spray perfume all over him so you won't touch him anymore."

J: "Don't do that. I can't help it. Have you felt his bumpy little head? Where did you get him?"

M. purses her lips and lets out a long, overly important constipated noise. She leans back in her chair and slants her eyes.

M: "One of my many trips to Thailand, gaaaaaahhhhh..."


Later on, she tells me to hurry and earn more money playing online poker so she can get liposuction. I remind her that the chips I win have no real value and cannot be turned in for cash. That makes no difference. Her plan is for me to do so well on internet poker that I am confident enough to play in Las Vegas and win her some real money.

J: "I never agreed to pay for your liposuction. You don't need it, M. You are the last person in the world who needs liposuction."

M: "You did too agree with it. I told you about my plan and you agreed."

J: "I did not. You know, some people who get liposuction and don't need it turn out worse."

M: "How so?"

J: "Like, their skin gets wrinkly and they get all wobbly."

M: "Like this?" (She holds her arms out like a zombie and starts wobbling all over.) "Oh, let me get the phone." (She wobbles and walks forward, turning her head to say:) "Oh, I'm all wobbly from liposuction. He said it would make me like this."

I really crack up. For some reason, it's a lot funnier than it should be and for several minutes, I can't stop laughing.

After lunch I overhear M. talking to her cube mate. I didn't catch the entire conversation, but I saw M. move her shoulder in a seductive way and tell her cube mate it was code for *wink wink* "Hey!"

I don't understand what it means.

Towards the end of the afternoon, M. and I are talking about bad movies, or more specifically, stories that don't allow the audience to feel sympathy for the main characters.

J: "A lot of new writers make the mistake of writing about people they hate. I guess it's a way for them to vent. But, who wants to read about some jerk? You have to genuinely love people to be a good writer, or at least show sympathy for the characters you write about. Otherwise, nobody will want to read it."

I heard that from Stephen King.

I say this to create an idea in M.'s mind. I don't know if she'll remember it come December, but I want to see her reaction. I really don't want M. to think I'm making fun of her when she finds out about the blog because I have a lot of genuine respect for her and I'd like her to look fondly on these daily excerpts.

J: "It's kind of like The Ernie Blog. I was really sad when I was asked to stop writing it because the blog came from a place of kindness. I never meant it to cause grief."

M.'s cube mate shoots me a wide-eyed stare. She is the only one on the team who knows about M's blog, and she isn't sure where I'm going with the conversation.

M. doesn't seem to feel strongly about it one way or the other, which is a relief. I hope she keeps the same lightheartedness over time.


I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Afterall, I don't want to come back in the next life as a wasp. Yikes!

HALLMARK CATALOG

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

M: "I want a Hallmark. What's it called Jake? The donut?"

J: "Do you mean a Bismark?"

M: "Yes, I want a Bis-Mark-E Donut with cream filling."

M. complains about eating too much this week. She insists she eaten more than her limit of junk food, including several Hallmark (Bismark) Donuts. She's not eating lunch because she had peanut butter and jam toast for breakfast so she'll just wait and eat dinner.

J: "That doesn't sound healthy."

M: "Jake, I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to my water, OK?" (She's holding a water bottle.)

J: "Do you want some homemade spaghetti and meatballs? I brought extra. It's really good."

M. "No, because it will make me hungry and I'll eat more."

J: "So, you should eat."

M: "Jake, the shoes I want from this Victoria Secret catalog are back-ordered until December. How is that possible? They just sent me their catalog yesterday. How can the shoes featured on the front cover not be available?"

J: "Now who are you talking to?"

M: "My iTouch."

J: "Jake, find these shoes for me. Will you see if they have them on Amazon? I can't do it, I'm too upset. You should write a letter to Victoria Secret for me and tell them I'm going to sue the pants off of them!"

She tells me how the models for Victoria Secret mislead all of the merchandise because none of the clothes look as good when she buys them as they do on the models in the catalog. She hands me the catalog to look through and I focus on the center spread with 4 half naked beautiful women.

J: "Can I order all 4 of these?"

M: "Jake! Why are you so disgusting? Oh, nevermind."

To make up for being a man, I sit down a type out a letter to Victoria Secret on behalf of M. I make sure to bring up all of her grievances.

Here is the letter in its entirety:

S.M. Lightning Bolt PO Box 571423 Magnay UT 84157-1423 Victoria Secret North American Office P.O. Box 16589 Columbus, Ohio 43216-6589 30 September 2009 Dear Victoria Secret: I am writing in regards to the recent catalog I discovered in my mailbox. It is fab-trance-tastic! Thank you for sending it to me. I love every page. Problem- the shoes on the front cover are backordered through the end of the year. Are you cereal? I want to wear them when I make my famous Cantaloupe Soup in three and ½ weeks. Can you do me a special and ship a pair of 6’s out early because you’re super-awesome, pretty please with powdered sugar on top, and stuff? Thanks!!! If you can’t, I’m suing the pants off of you. That’s right, your pants on the floor. That’s all you’ll have. You heard me! Your models do not correctly represent your product. They look too good. Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth, OK? Some of us live in Magnay. Eagerly anticipating your cute reply, S.M. Lightning Bolt P.S. You know a mullet when you see it, right? What fashion accessories do you have for a mullet? I needs them real bad!!

I hand the letter to M. and ask her to read it out loud to see how it sounds. She doesn't make it past the first sentence before she's hysterical with laughter. Half way through, she stands up, tears running down her face, and tells me she has to pee. When she comes back, she finishes the letter, laughs even harder and uses her famous lightning bolt signature to sign it.

M: "Are you really sending that?"

J: "Yep."

M: "Ha ha! What if they send you a pair of shoes? I'm going to be so mad!"

J: "I'll give them to you. Why would I want shoes from Victoria Secret?"

RED FIRE SMOKING ANTS

Thursday, October 1, 2009

J: "Why are you looking so sad, M?"

M: "My cockatiel died. Rocky... He was 12 years old."

J: "Oh no. I'm sorry to hear that. Are you OK?"

M: "The house is so quiet. Now who's gonna whistle when I walk through the door?"

J: "What do you think Rocky would have rated himself on a scale of 1-10?"

M: "12."

J: "What about your chihuahua?"

M: "15."

J: "15?"

M: "Oh yeah. He'd be all, '1-10 isn't enough.'"

J: "Based on that... how would you rate yourself?"

M: "3."

J: "No... What do you really rate yourself?"

M: "3."

J: "Why a 3?"

M: "Why, Jake? Where do I start?" (Long pause with a cold stare.) "Do you really want me to sit here and answer that?"

J: (Thinking about it for a minute.) "No."

M: "Didn't think so."

M.'s birthday is next Tuesday so she's taking the entire week off. Today is the last day we'll see each other until October 12th. I didn't even bring in her present.

M: "Do you want some advice, Jake?"

J: "Don't sniff red fire ants?"

M: "Oh, OK... So no matter what I do, do not sniff red ants."

J: "Red fire ants."

M: "Will it kill me?"

J: "It will hurt really bad. Wait! It will kill you. I saw the re-enactment on "1,000 Ways to Die."

M: "You're just saying that because you snort flies."

Not really. I was sitting at my desk yesterday when I saw a fly twirl just under my nose. It flew up into my nostril, into my mouth and down the back of my throat. I coughed a few times but nothing came out. I didn't want to snort the fly, it just happened. And it was a very unpleasant experience.

J: "That isn't the same-"

M: "Picture me sitting here smoking a cigarette. Would I have any right to tell you not to smoke?"

J: "You don't smoke."

M: "Pretend that I do. Imagine me sitting here right now smoking. Does that give me any right to tell you not to smoke?"

J: "That's irrelevant."

M: "Oh, it's relevant."

J: "That's like me saying if I fell down and smashed my face on the pavement would I have any right to get up and tell you not to fall down and smash your face?"

M: "Jake, that doesn't make any sense. You're comparing smashing your face on the pavement to smoking a cigarette?"

J: "No, I'm asking you what cigarettes have to do with red fire ants?"

M: "If you throw your cigarette butt on the ground, ants come and carry it into their home. That's how it relates."

J: "What does that have to do with snorting fire ants?"

M: "I have aunts who smoke. I don't know why you can't see the relevance. Just because you snort flies, Jake. Not everybody snorts flies."

J: "M., we only have 1 hour left before I leave and I won't see you at all next week, not even for your birthday. Is this really how you want to spend the afternoon? Arguing about ants?"

M: "I want a Hallmark."

SCRUBS

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

M. is off all week. I sent her a text today that reads, " Where are you?? Work sucks without you!" It's the truth. The day is so quiet and peaceful when she's gone.

She replied, "I'm scrubbing basement floors. Poo and pee from a 1930 house."

Yucka!

If it's not 25 windows, it's old lady feces. The things we do for a little extra cash.

I flipped my wall calendar over to October last week. I noticed some writing on the 13th square that reads: "M.'s liposuction! :) "

Keep dreaming.

Tomorrow is your birthday!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELISABETH SHUE

	Tuesday, October 6, 2009 Today is M.'s birthday. Today is also Elisabeth Shue's birthday. M. isn't here so I'll write about Elisabeth Shue. Remember the opening scene from Adventures in Babysitting where E. dances in her bedroom and lip syncs in a hella sexy rock 'n roll style? I do. I think every teenage boy (and a few girls) who saw that movie fell in love with E., with her sexy fluffy hair falling all over her face like Christmas. Hot! She went on to co-star with Tom Cruise in Cocktail, followed by a small role as Marty's McFly's girlfriend in Back to the Future Part 2 and 3, looking lively and spunky as ever. Mmmm... Fast forward a few years and several leading roles later to find ourselves drunk and thoroughly aroused in the 1995 film, Leaving Las Vegas. Yes! Now this is the Elisabeth Shue we've been waiting for. What's that? You wonder if E. has ever been in a film noir? Here is the answer: "YES!" E. co-stars with Woody Harrelson in the steamy hot film, Palmetto circa 1998. She embodies the hot, lurid sexuality of a scorching summer down south. Whoa, Nellie! I wonder if E. entertains her co-stars with the same witty banter and charisma as M. Imagine E. telling Woody about her "festival of farts." No? Molly, Hollow Man, and Hamlet 2 are a few other movies featuring the sex-symbol from the late 80's. Like M., E. somehow looks younger and more energetic over time. How do they do it? What is it about these two that makes them so alluring? I'm not sure, but I know both of them are always good to be around, if only on the silver screen or only across the aisle at work. Happy Birthday, E! Happy Birthday, M! You are two shining stars in the Hollywood firmament. It says so... Right there...