Little Caesar

Oh dear God. I just realized my job is like a morning radio show. Just hours upon hours of people talking without saying anything, terrible unfunny jokes, immature pranks...Man, what did I do to deserve this Hell? And more importantly, how do my co workers manage to talk so so so much? It is almost non stop for five hours. Don't they need to take a breath? Don't they get embarrassed just sitting there spouting nonsense? Why is silence so frightening to them? I mean, our job is to talk. Why would you want to continue that when we have a few minutes of downtime? You don't see surgeons cutting between operations.

By the by, I'm sorry to be whining about my job again. I feel like it's all I ever do. Believe me, I have tried looking for another job, tried to change my life and get happy. It just never works out for me.

I'm starting to believe that, in a past life, I was the Nazi in charge of killing children and puppies and that my current job is karmic retribution for my crimes. I work in a call center, and between listening to the conversations my co-workers have and the people I have to call I feel like the Indian in that classic commercial from the '70s about not littering/polluting except instead of shedding a tear about what the white man is doing to my land I'm crying over the mass slaughter of my brain cells.




Speaking of commercials, Christmas time is officially here since I saw this the other day:




(I heart you nervous red soloist!)

I love Christmas.

So. I'm part of the problem.

I-God this is hard for me to say-I...saw New Moon. I'm sorry.

It was just as bad as you'd think it'd be. On the plus side, good music and SHIRTLESS TAYLOR LAUTNER.

I think the funniest thing about the movie were how over-the-top protective Edward and Jacob were of Bella. Like she needs to be saved from absolutely everything on the face of the Earth. 97% of the dialog went something like this:

(Bella is sitting alone in her room, reading a book. Enter Jacob, out of breath and shirtless for some unknown reason)

Jacob: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!? (knocks book out of her hand)

Bella: What? What is it? I was just reading!

Jacob: You could've gotten a paper cut! God Bella, what were you thinking?!

Bella: I...I'm sorry. (the two almost kiss, but are interrupted by something)

(Jacob can also be substituted with a vision of Edward, only Bella would add "But it's the only way I can SEEEEEEE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU wahhhhhhhh")

Whatever. It was better than The Fourth Kind. God, I'm still so mad I spent money on that epic fail.

Backstory, part one: today, my job let the employees come in to work in pajamas as part of a promo. Oh, YOU BETTER BELIEVE I PARTICIPATED. (I am so not looking forward to tomorrow, when I have to go back to business casual, now that I know the absolute euphoria of working in pajamas)

Backstory, part two: Sometime during the night (I work 5-10 P.M.), one of my supervisors found a kitty in the back area where people go to smoke. The poor thing was so sickly that it was being pecked at by a bunch of crows while it was still alive. Yeah, it was in bad shape. Supervisor (my new hero) put the kitty in a box where those filthy birds couldn't get to it, ran to the dollar store next to our office and got some food and water for it, and left the box out in the back (and then he was going to take the kitty home later tonight and get it cleaned up and taken to the vet).

So, after my shift ends, I go out back to say goodnight to the kitty. I open the box and actually start singing to it (specifically, "Soft Kitty" from The Big Bang Theory) because I am just that stupid, only to stand up to see that there are other people there that saw me. And I couldn't help but wonder what they thought of me: this lardass with frizzy hair comes out at 10:00 at night in pajamas and then starts singing to what they can only assume is an empty box. I mean, really. What would you think?

You're a douche, and you need to stop: The Telephone Edition:

-If you have one of those "ringbacks" or whatever you call them and try to force your awful taste in music on anyone who was stupid enough to call you, you're a douche, and you need to stop.

-If you sing on your answering machine, you're a douche, and you need to stop. If the song you're singing is about Jesus, you really really really need to stop.

-To take that a little bit further, if you have anything religious on your voicemail, you're a douche, and you need to stop. Don't read me verses from the Bible, shout "PRAISE JESUS!" (right in my ear), or even tell me to have a blessed day. Just don't.

-If you have a child who has not yet reached puberty record the outgoing message on your voicemail, you're a douche, and you need to stop.

-If you have one of those outgoing messages where you make it seem like you're talking and then you're like "HA HA, you actually got my machine! Leave a message!", you're the biggest douche in the world, and you need to be kicked in the groin.

Girl: I saw this picture on the internet-it was of a Walgreen's and there was a banner saying "Walgreen's supports Black History Month!"...but it was over a huge display of cotton balls.

(all laugh)

(Older)Guy: You know, the sad thing is, probably anyone under 25 wouldn't understand why that's funny.

Me: Hey! I resent that! I'm under 25 and I got it.

Girl: Welllll...technically, I'm under 25 and I got it too. But then again, I think I'm smarter than the average bear.

I'm sorry, did you really just say that? For fuck's sake, you're making $9/hr at a telemarketing place in a town where, according to the Wikipedia page, the only notable residents are a porn star, a Z-list actor that I guarantee you no one has heard of, and a guy who came up with a weight loss program. And you quoted a cartoon. Shut the fuck up.

I am, apparently, old. The other day at work, I was talking to an 18 year old, and she had never heard the word "bimbo." Then, like, the day after that happened, this girl comes in with a purse with a big picture of Kurt Cobain on it. One girl (23 years old) asks her: "Who's Kurt Cobain?" As she's telling me this story (which she preceded with "Any respect I had for Michelle [the girl who asked her who Kurt was] has vanished"), the 22 year old girl sitting between us is like "um...I don't know who Kurt Cobain is either." YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT. We were like "Nirvana? 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'? OH COME ON." This is truly horrifying. Made even scarier by the fact that we have a President who's trying to pass a plan that will put old people on death panels.

Dear Gym I Go To,

Is it really necessary to have one of the tvs permanently tuned to the Food Network? I mean, really. Come on now.

Gay people who love each other and just want to be treated equally: nay

This: yea

Fuck everything.
(oh, btw, I DON'T MEAN THAT LITERALLY, lady from the article)

Do you think when Monica Lewinsky applies for jobs and such that she puts her White House internship on her resume?

These are the things I think about instead of developing relationships with other human beings.