Bloggerstock: Do-overs

Today we've got the lovely Sara hijacking my blog via Bloggerstock.  Honestly, I don't know of a woman who or more fascinated with Vah-jay-jays, without being a lesbian.  Maybe Georgia O'Keefe...maybe (link provided for those less cultured individuals).  Anyway Sara's got a great sense of humor and she's definitely got this Howard Stern thing going for her...no not that "skinny creepy asshole" thing...the "what's she gonna say next" thing.  In any case...I highly recommend you all start stalking her, like I am...day and night.

In a bush outside her window....I'll kill that Andy guy to keep her for myself...kidding kidding.  Mostly.

Here's Sara's post, if you like it, if you don't, check here out at Sara Swears A Lot.  You can also check out my post over at Slightly Disappointing.

Enjoy.

I've done Bloggerstock once before and was fucked in the ass by my swap buddies who decided not to participate, but this year I have two awesome people who are down for Saratown, ifyagetwhatimsayin. So what's Bloggerstock? Since Bret has made me explain it to THREE ZILLION EFFING PEOPLE, I'm going to let the website explain itself. Clickity click hiz-ere (www.bloggerstock.net) if you want to participate next month. (And you should because I'll be doing it, and it's funsies all around.) Also, if you want to check out Kelly Marie's post, she's on my blog today. And if you like what you see here (bowchicawowow), come visit me at Sara Swears a Lot!(www.saraswearsalot.blogspot.com)

This month's topic is Do-Over AKA anything we want that can possibly relate back to a Do-Over of some sort. There are so many ways I could go with this post. Wearing Doc Martins with my sweatsuit? Cutting my hair up to my ears when I already looked like a little boy with my fat face and lack of boobs? Asking my third grade teacher if they had cars when she was a little girl? (What? The bitch was old as shit. She looked like the fucking crypt keeper, all right?)

So with so many options, what did I finally settle on?

I decided to go all out, balls out and tell a story that I said I would never tell on my blog. But I think now it's fair game since this isn't my blog, right? Right. Moving forward...

As I've written before, Andy and I met at work. He still works there which explains why I can't write about this at my own place. When I first started working for this company, I knew that it was a family-owned business. I'd never worked in an office before, and I had no clue that family-owned businesses were either one of two things:  Really fucking awesome and fun to work for OR a miserable, shitty ass place where people get ahead based on their last name.

Guess which one it was?

So the person who owns the company is a man who is SO FUCKING OLD, he could rival my third grade teacher in a Tales From the Crypt host-lookalike-show. (I wasn't even allowed to watch that show for years. No wonder I keep referencing it.) His daughter "worked" there as well. And by worked, I mean she showed up at 11:00, had coffee and chatted until noon, went to lunch for an hour and a half to two hours, came back to the office for about an hour and then left for the day to "run errands". Every. Goddamn. Day.

Not only did I have to deal with his annoying ass daughter, I was also stuck dealing with his even more annoying ass granddaughter. (We'll call her Krystal.) She was doing a work program through her high school that let her go to school half a day and spend the other half at the office with us. Oh, joy!

She was also a very hard "worker" just like her mama. Also, they CONSTANTLY called each other "guh". No. I am not fucking kidding. It was like this:

"Hey, guh, do you want me to pick up a sandwich for you when I go on my 120-minute lunch?"

"No, guh, I don't eat because I'm a high school girl."

"Okay, see you when I get back, guh."

SERIOUSLY, Y'ALL.

I wanted to stab my motherfucking face every time I heard them say that word. They also liked using the phrase G.N.O. when they were going to the movies together. As in, Girl's Night Out? As in a Hannah Montana song?

For the love of all that is holy....

Suffice it to say, I HATED THOSE BITCHES WITH A FIERY PASSION.

So Krystal's "job" at work was pretty much nothing. Her teacher had to come by once to check on her and see what the office was like. The teacher told Krystal that she needed to be answering the phones because it was part of the program or something.

This bitch NEVER answered the phone. I was the administrative assistant so I answered the phone all day long. She was at work for two hours most days and refused to EVER pick up the goddamn phone. Even if I had to sprint across the office, dive over a filing cabinet, stop a speeding bullet with my hand, and perform the helicopter without a penis, that bitch would STILL. NOT. ANSWER. THE. GODDAMN. PHONE.

Or, my personal favorite, riiiiiight after I caught the bullet with my teeth, did a James Bond roll, and had my hand on the fucking receiver, she would pick up. Bitch.

There was one particular day when the madness started. I hated their entire family with a passion, and my protected twitter updates were there to prove it. The only person I worked with that could see my twitter was my best friend and boss at the time. (We'll call her Margie.) I think you can see where this is heading...

One day, Margie was out of the office which meant that I would have to take a 1:00 to 2:00 lunch to cover the phones from 12:00 to 1:00 when everyone else was gone. Andy was working that day for the first time in months (he was on night shift for a while), and I wanted to go to lunch with him since we never had the chance.

"Hey Krystal, do you have any plans for lunch?"

"Um, yeah, I think so."

"Oh, really? What are you doing?"
"Going to lunch with my mom."

"Okay, well, nevermind then."

Ten seconds later, Krystal's mom walks by my desk and I say, "Hey, so where are you and Krystal going for lunch?" She looked confused and said, "Oh, we aren't going to lunch together today. I have some errands to run."

YOU FUCKING BITCH.

The little whore lied to me! Because she KNEW I wanted to go to lunch with my boyfriend! And she always tried to flirt with him to make me jealous even though she was the size of a toothpick and seriously, sweetie? My man likes WOMEN, not little girls, but whatevs.

So I kind of pulled an immature move at that point because I was furious. I went to myspace and wrote something along the lines of....

"Little girls who don't do any work need to go home and stop annoying everyone else."

Perfect, no?

I deleted it less than two hours later because I realized how stupid it was and moved on.

The next morning, Krystal's mom walks by my desk and throws a piece of paper at me. It's a printout of my myspace status. Apparently the little bitch had to run tattle to her mommy on the mean girl at work. *sniffle*

She said, "If you aren't happy here, maybe you should leave."

SHIT. WENT. DOWN.

I didn't go to work the following day because I decided it would be smart to fill out applications since I had a pretty good feeling I was going to be fired for a stupid myspace status that didn't even mention any names.

Now do you remember me mentioning my protected twitter updates? Which means nobody could see my tweets unless I approved them. Well, my dear friend Margie decided to pull it up, print it out, and give it to Satan's mother. Some of my favorite tweets said the following:

The woman I HATE at work just cut part of my pencil skirt saying that's how it's supposed to look. BITCH.

This little bitch at work is about to get some serious hate staring from me.

Miley Cyrus-wannabe Cunt thinks she's cute flirting with my boyfriend. Sorry, Cuntface, but he's fucking ME, not you.

As you can see, I like to keep it classy.

So after all that, I came in the following day and was fired by the old man who owns the place even though he had no clue what was going on because he was like 3,000 years old. Which ended up being one of the best things that ever happened to me.

So if I could do it all over, what would I do differently?

....

....

....

I would have called her a cunt to her face.