She Wants to Move
2004-03-17 @ 10:04 p.m.
Yeah so this drive is killing me! Getting from my office to the beltway is about the length of a mile. So why for the love of God does it take an hour to do that?? Yes, it takes an hour to go one mile. In fact you could say, that I was going about one mile per hour (or 1 mph.) I was going so slow (how slow were you going?!) I was going so slow that people walking through Old Town Alexandria were passing me, waving and laughing....mocking me even. They could have parked their car on the exit to the beltway and got home an hour before me. BECAUSE DID YOU HEAR ME? IT TOOK AN HOUR TO GO ONE MILE!
But at least I had music and warmth in my car beotches! Yeah laugh, wave and WALK all you want, you may get home an hour before me, but you will be frostbitten and will not have enjoyed N.E.R.D.'s latest hit played 24 times in a row. (which I am currently obsessed with)
Pharrell is so hot it makes me weak.
So I answer phones all day, to now it's to the point that I am starting to lose my voice. These suckers like to get calls! You would know why if you knew where I worked, but still. Most of the people who call are nice, but sometimes they speak so fast that I have to ask, 'excuse me?' or 'I'm sorry, what is your company?' Because I have to call over to the person and tell them who is calling for them. And if they don't like that person I have to go back and lie to the caller and put them to voicemail, or whatever. So sometimes if the caller says "Hi, can I speak to Susan, this is Shetylat jkwekf kj ville Inc" And if I really am not in the mood to ask what the hell she just said, I simply repeat exactly to Susan what I heard, pleading with God that she doesn't ask ME what the hell I just said."Hi Susan, it's Shetylat jkwefk jf ville Inc, would you like to speak to her?"
"...hold on let me go see...."
I hate it when that happens. But then there are the times that I actually ask what they just said (as politely as I possibly can) and they of course repeat back as-slow-as-possible. Just to tick me off, of course. Some of these people can be real dicks.
"I'm sorry, where are you calling from?"
"I'm calling for SU-SAN and I am from THE-WASH-ING-TON-POST. Can you say 'Wash-ing-ton Post?'"
Ugh F you dude!
But today wasn't so bad, the New York Times gave a girl a chocolate cupcake upstairs, and somehow she thought of me and my fondness of chocolate, cake and green sprinkles so she gave it to me. However, she had swiped off some white frosting with her finger first. I mentioned this to her, and asked if everyone had done it before giving it to me, and then wiped it under their arms for good measure.
"Hey let's really break this new girl in. Let's kill her with the rank that lives under my arms and herpes from my mouth. That'll show her who's boss!"