ammogirl

Today I was washing my bowl in the kitchen at work, la-di-da, leaning on the sink, humming a little tune…when all of a sudden there was a cockroach.  It was RIGHT THERE, nearly touching my stomach, and I freaked out and screamed, and then ran in the hallway and sort of jumped up and down a bit, and when my boss came running out to see what was wrong, I pointed and said "cockroach" or maybe it was more like flinging my arms wildly in the direction of the kitchen while yelling, "COCKROACH" but either way, that thing nearly TOUCHED me, and it was gross. 

Now, I don’t like cockroaches.  But, after my little experience, I was trying to think why they would have such a bad rap.  Not because I am trying to stick up for them or anything, because I’m TOTALLY not, but because to me, they are no worse than spiders or….moths.  To OTHER people, however, spiders are "neat" and moths are "nice", while cockroaches are universally reviled.  But, c’mon now.  All bugs/insects/arachnids/whatever…they are all equally creepy and have those beady eyes, and freaky mouths and legs and fly or crawl or are insect-ish in general.  I don’t think a cockroach is any dirtier than, say…a dung beetle.  And as far as the not being able to kill them thing…I am too chicken to kill ANY bug, so…that doesn’t apply.  Really, though, I want to know. Where is the equal opportunity in the insect kingdom?  Hmmm?  I think we should hate all bugs equally, because it’s really only fair. 

That’s the second…no, third cockroach I’ve seen at work, by the way.  The first one was in the hood of my jacket, which, hi, that’s the most disgusting thing that has ever happened to me, and the second one was in the restroom.  Now, because nobody else has ever complained of cockroach attack but me, I have to assume that I am the only one seeing them.  They must be able to sense my fear, like dogs.  But creepier.  Do you think they hang out on my chair at night?  !!! DO YOU THINK THEY’RE CRAWLING IN MY WATER CUP AT NIGHT???? Do you?  Oh my god!  They probably ARE!  I’m totally going to go all Kafka on you guys and by the end of the week I’ll wake up fully morphed into a cockroach.  In fact, that’s probably what’s going on with my back…it’s my bones dissolving and reforming into a hard shell…right.  I’m done with that, as I have managed to completely creep myself out.

Anyway, my low battery light just came on, and I’m too lazy to plug in right now, and also, I really need to go study.  My internet time is over for tonight.  I managed to write a completely different post than I sat down to write, by the way.  If this one sucks, blame the cockroach. 

Tschuss!!

Oh my god.  You guys, my oldest daughter like, marinated in a vat of estrogen or something, while I was gone. Yesterday morning, I was summoned downstairs by a horrible sob of such horrible horribleness, I thought one of the cats had been mutilated and strewn about the house, or at the very least, she had fallen down the stairs and amputated her entire lower half.  Seriously.  It was that bad.  You can imagine I was a bit panicked as I ran downstairs, because hi, I’m a paranoid mother to begin with, WITHOUT throwing in a horrible sob of horrible horribleness (HSOHH).  However, as I reached the bottom step, I heard my younger daughter comforting her sister with something that sounded suspiciously like, "It’s okay, just pick something else to wear".  "huh" thought I, "SURELY she’s not this upset…over clothes." 

But, as anyone who has a daughter rapidly approaching the label of "teenager" could have told me (but didn’t - thanks, unknown people), she certainly CAN be that upset over clothes.  Apparently, from what I could make out through the HSOHH, as she was zipping up her very favorite sweater EVER, the zipper…well, let me just tell you what she told me:  SOB!  SOBBB! It BROOOKEEE, MOOOOOMM!  It’s my FAVORITE! SOBBBBBBBBBB! SOB SOB SOBBBBBBBB!  There was actually more to it, but the majority of it was just….sobbing.  It was quite alarming, actually. 

Fortunately, I was able to maintain composure in the face of such catastrophe, and explained that life was not over, and the zipper could be fixed, and sweetie pie, all your clothes are washed, just pick something else, okay, honey?  And fortunately, tragedy WAS averted.

Look, I know what you guys are thinking.  Yes, I was a teenage girl at one point of my life, too many years ago, but I KNOW I was not like this.  Of course, I knew right away what the deal was, because there could be no other explanation.  This tells me one thing, and one thing only: the next five years, I am in for it.  Oh.  And I better stock up on…stuff.

This is going to be fun.

Tschuss!!

So there I was, on the first morning of the big inspection, and I’m a scary inspector with my fancy HQ hat, right? We’re waiting for the gate guards to verify our information and sign us in, and they’re nervous as hell, and scurrying around like chickens, because hi, it’s really nerve wracking to get inspected and  we’re the professionals, who are supposed to be PROFESSIONAL, because we work at HQ and we are INSPECTORS.  Andddd….what do I do?  You know, to cement my professionalism?  I puke.  Yes.  I vomit, barf, hurl, whatever your favorite term might be, I did it right outside the gate, in front of the three gate guards and all the people I work with and/or for.  It was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.  I managed to get puke on my hat.  On the TOP of my hat.  It was great.

Fortunately, due to some beam of intervention from above, the gate guards were all frantically checking our names against a list and reviewing procedures at the exact moment of time I was forcibly ejecting my stomach contents onto the ground, causing them to totally miss the show.  Thank god.  However, the people I work with are never going to let me live it down.  I want to point out that I DID impress them with my projection.  And with my composure (puke, apologize, move on).  I am the stuff of legends.  I feel sorry for the first person whose hand I shook immediately afterward, though.  Um, buddy?  That wasn’t clamminess.  Just kidding.

Note to self:  the people I work with are crazy binge drinkers.  Remember this for next time, and plan accordingly (drink water) (and learn how to tell the boss “I am not going out tonight”).

It was an insane week, you guys.  Of course, there really was tons of inspecting going on, and I played a role in getting two guys fired for total incompetence, and I realized two things about myself: I know a lot more than I thought I did, and man…I can really push through a hangover when required.  I was totally surprised at both of those revelations.  I mean, imagine having a recipe for, say, no bake cookies.  There are certain ingredients you need, right?  And steps you have to follow?  And some are more important than others, but without ALL of the ingredients and the steps, you get one really crappy cookie.  Following me?  Okay, my work (not the work I do NOW, but the work I do NORMALLY) is like that no bake cookie.  With less chocolate.  Or yummy goodness…anyway.  I’ll I’m saying is there is a recipe for my work, with ingredients and steps and directions and these people we inspected definitely failed home ec.  So.  Now I’m hungry.

And, segueing along and speaking of hungry, holy crap.  I ate so much food last week.  Seriously, I spent the whole week eating.  Because of this, putting on my jeans at the end of the week sucked in a large way.  The Indian food, though…damn.  It was almost worth it.  Garlic nan?  Scrumptious.  Spicy mango chutney with poppadoms?  To die for. 

On a really depressing note, however, I have to tell you the internet cold turkey thing was quite a shock to me.  You guys, I need to chill a bit.  I was seriously going through withdrawals…maybe a slight weaning of this time drainer is in the cards.  Not a total break, mind you, just…less.  Perhaps an internet ban a few nights a week is in the cards…a virtual detox, if you will.   Starting tomorrow.

Tschuss!!