July 2, 2009

City Hall

Written on January 10, 2008

This was the first week at my new job. I was dropped, rather quickly, into City Hall and I hit the ground running. Monday morning was interesting. Orientation didn’t take very long. Since I had already been a city employee, there wasn’t much I needed to learn. I then had to run over to the Police Department to get an id badge. I was praying that I didn’t run into the ex. Ugh. I didn’t sleep the night before and I had the nervous poops. You know…when your stomach gets in such a knot that it feels like you either have to poop or you are going to poop? Either way, I didn’t want to run into him….for me to poop on! Heehee! The place was dirty and they had country music blaring on the radio. No, I wasn’t surprised. The place reeked of my ex. Thankfully, I escaped the PD unscathed. The rest of the week went off without a hitch. I survived and still managed to make bullet points.

*The girl I share an office with whistles.

*The bathroom is incredibly tiny but smells like mangoes.

*Flushing the toilet creates an obnoxious noise that everyone can hear.

*I heart my boss. He told me I was quirky, charming & talented. Quirky like Dali, not like Picasso. Whew!

*The city is really old and I’m not sure it’s a safe place to wander at night.

*My chair has someone’s ass print on it, in black.

*There are not one, but two nearby Starbuck’s.

*There is not a nearby gas station.

*The people are fabulous. Such a huge difference in energy from whence I came & I love it!

*I want a red phone…only because I work at City Hall.

I’ve been thinking about my 40th…I mean….36th birthday. I think I should do something fabulous. Something fantastic! Once in a while, I like to travel alone. I’ve been to San Diego, Manhattan & Toronto for a weekend by myself and have had a great time. It always turns out that I meet people and end up doing things I wouldn’t normally do. Nothing crazy, just different. I think I would either choose San Francisco or Seattle. That’s an option. I probably won’t, but I think this situation calls for greatness. I don’t feel my age, I don’t look my age, I’ve been fighting diabetes for 23 years and, on a whole, I’m doing really well! Why shouldn’t I celebrate? So, I have 9 months to come up with ideas. It’s like a birthday pregnancy. Wow! Any ideas?

Did you know that my dryer makes music and so does my stove? My dryer sings its own song and the stove sings a remake. I have a gas stove and when you turn it on, there is clicking. Voila! The intro to ‘It’s Tricky’. Fun! The dryer song sings more of a jazzy tune. Comforting! Isn’t it crazy when you start to notice music in everyday life? Crazy, yet cool. It’s cool when your ears hear music instead of just noise. Now if that would only work for the obnoxious Beagle that lives next door. I hope more appliances start singing in my house. It could be like a life symphony.

I need another massage. I should date a massage therapist because they don’t like to be called masseuses anymore. Not date him because of the name change, I should date him for his hands. That way I could save the cashola and get a rubdown whenever. Actually, it’s not so much my back…it’s my neck. I literally can make my neck pop. Wait…maybe I should leave it and use it as party entertainment. Good times. Oooooh! Maybe I could have a spa weekend getaway for my birthday. There’s that place in Mesquite that always has some specials going on. Golf & Spa. Spa & Soak. Whatever. I’m adding that option to my list. But 9 months is WAY to long to go without a massage. I did give Amanda an IOU for a massage. I just need to research and find a mother/daughter special or a spa that will accommodate a teen. Not all of them do, ya know. Like teens are so fragile they can’t be rubbed down. Psh. I’m sure with Valentine’s Day coming, many of the spas will be having sales. Stupid Valentines Day.

I have started talking to myself. I usually keep these little things inside my head which helps to create the madness, but now bits of it are coming out of my mouth. I don’t sit there and have entire conversations with myself but random things are being said. Random things like “What am I doing?” or “I didn’t want to go there.” or “Oh, crap.” This could mean several things.

A. I’m plummeting into the old age zone..say hello to dementia.

B. I’ve lost my mind..which could very well coincide with A.

C. I’m expelling items from cluttered mind.

D. I have a form of turrets.

E. Everyone does this and I’m just never witness to it.

One more thing, my ass is always cold. This amazes me simply because, as I’ve always said, my ass is the size of Guam. How can it be cold with that much padding? I’m like a bear in the winter when it comes to my ass! I don’t get it. What sucks even more is when I go to the bathroom. The seat is freezing, my ass is freezing and the double effect kills me. I’m getting goose pimples just thinking about it. I should invent a self heating toilet or at least a seat. That way your ass is always welcomed by a nice toasty feeling. Which reminds me, does anyone remember those plastic like toilets seats that were mushy? There literally would be a whoosh of air when you sat down. They were gross. My grandma had one and I think it was some pastel color. Do they even still have those? They should be replaced with heated seats. I’d buy one.

That’s it, I’m tapped. Looking forward to a nice 3 day weekend and lots of laughter. Hope your weekend is as enjoyable!

*Peace.

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