Crappy job crap, weird neighbor, and someone whose baby I apparently want to have
2006-05-08 - 8:35 p.m.
It’s so nice to find out how much I am respected and appreciated at my job. An hour before quitting time today a peon from another department came up and dumped a big stack of work on my desk. Said it’s from another branch whose printers are down, thus enlightening me that apparently I have been volunteered by my boss to slog through this giant pile of time-consuming tedium for the next couple of days.
I am steamed about this, not because I don’t want to do the work (though I really don’t) but mainly because this is the first I’ve heard about it. Would it have killed my boss to pick up the goddamn phone and let me know this was coming my way? Or maybe he could have just said to my face, “I’m sure you weren’t doing anything important with your time anyway, and besides, you know I take you entirely for granted.” He could have finished up with an eye-roll as a little signal “just between us” so I’m reminded that he thinks I’m a lazy bastard and that I’ll just screw it up anyway. Or maybe a nice pat on the head, if he happened to be blowing hot today and felt like tossing me a bone.
Someday I need to get myself a real, grown-up sort of job. Someday soon.
Speaking of creeps, we had a close encounter with one on Sunday. Our couch is right next to the sliding patio door, which looks out onto a grassy common area where people can walk their pets. The Prince and I were snuggled up together on our couch, talking and enjoying a nice breeze through the screen when this guy walked up to the bush beside our patio with his dog and stood there while the dog did the sniff and pee routine. As he waited he just brazenly stared into our apartment, and I thought I heard him say something but wasn’t sure if he was talking to us or the dog. Then he said it again, still not very loud: “Excuse me, can I just ask you a small favor?”
Now, I hate when strangers talk to me, particularly in inappropriate circumstances—like, say, when they are staring at me through my fucking window while their dog takes a leak; and I hate even worse when strangers talk to me because they want something from me. So sue me, I’m just not a giver. So, I did what any normal, decent antisocial person would do. I stared right back with what I imagine was a frosty, “bugger off” sort of expression without answering. So he muttered “never mind” and waved me off. And I thought he was walking away, but then he turned around and came right up to our balconey and said again, “Can I just ask you a small favor?”
He wanted to borrow a bedsheet. Because the dog was old and arthritic and was hurting too badly to walk any more, and I guess he wanted to use the sheet for a sling to carry her. The Prince told him sorry, the only sheets we have are on our bed. Which is true, but I don’t think the guy believed him because he kept going on about how she was hurting awful bad, and he guessed he’d have to try and carry her up the stairs but didn’t think he could make it up three flights, and blah blah blah. And the Prince just kept saying sorry, sorry man, we can’t help you.
Now, of course I feel bad for the dog. I’m not made of stone.
But dude. You really expect complete strangers to loan you a bedsheet to carry your stinky, hairy, probably incontinent and flea-infested elderly dog up the stairs?
First of all, did the dog just suddenly become elderly out there in the yard on a pleasant Sunday afternoon? You knew she was old when you took her out there. Here’s an idea… BRING YOUR OWN FUCKING SHEET.
Second of all… this building has an elevator. I know you’re not supposed to use it for dogs but I’m pretty sure the management would be understanding just this once if you explain the situation.
Third of all… you live on the third floor with a lame dog who must have to go potty multiple times a day. I hope borrowing a bedsheet from complete strangers is not Plan A.
I don’t know, maybe I’m a bitch for not whipping the sheet off my bed so my creepy neighbor could use it to haul his mangy animal up three flights of stairs. Or maybe my frontal-lobe-damaged neighbor needs to get a clue that ballsy and weird is just not an appealing combination of personality traits in a neighbor.
Abruptly changing gears and thus ending this misanthropic diatribe on a note of frivolity: Today a really hot guy said hello to me, and I ovulated on the spot. I could feel it. Isn’t that weird?
Reading: Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert
Listening to: Monty Python on TV
Thinking about: I need to practice bellydance but don't feel like it
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Crappy job crap, weird neighbor, and someone whose baby I apparently want to have - 2006-05-08
Live from the dump - 2006-04-09
Kind of like a muzzle for your brain - 2006-03-29
...and then she fell ass-first into my cereal bowl - 2006-03-28
Playing catch-up - 2006-03-27
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