EWWWW! Gross!

There are pieces of a gingerbread house in the office kitchen. I asked the receptionist (as an aside ... she's very nice, but one of those stereotypical back-country bumpkins that doesn't realize some of the things she says are pretty damn racist) what it was doing there, and if anyone was going to assemble it.

She said that Boring Co-Worker (I used to go to lunch with her occasionally, but she's so fucking boring I can't stand it and have managed to dodge invitations for about the last six months) bought it last year and never put it together.

Then, yesterday, Boring Co-Worder found ants crawling in the box. So she pulled out all the gingerbread, gumdrops, licorice wands and little candy people heads, wiped them off, and re-bagged it all in Zip-locs.

Um, I guess she's saving it for later?

Say it with me, people.

EWWWW! Gross!

How do you spell T-A-C-K-Y?

I applied for a job at The University. A job I didn't get. It was one of those things that really would have been a good opportunity. It's not like I'm looking to leave my current job. (BTW, this year for craft day, we decorated holiday picture frames). In fact, I'd been liking my job more lately and was feeling guilty knowing I had applied for another one.

I received my ding letter in the mail yesterday. Ya know "we had a tremendous response ... your impressive credentials were given consideration ... we have concluded the interview process ... best of luck in your future endeavors" which is University speak for "we already had someone in mind for this position and were merely going through protocol by posting the job opening."

Bitches.

When I checked the University HR site the other day, I was surprised to see the job had been filled. I had been lead to believe that they actually were accepting applications. And, really, if they HAD considered my impressive credentials, I would think that I would have warranted at least a phone call.

The position was with The University alumni association. So, at first when I opened up the bulky package with the ding letter on top, I thought they had the gall to send me an application packet to join the alumni association. But I was SHOCKED to see that no, they had SENT BACK MY PORTFOLIO CLIPS.

Unbelievable.

By returning my resume and portfolio clips (all of which are obvious laser print-outs, BTW, it's a terrible idea to send originals) not only does it send the message "you didn't get the job" but it makes it abundantly clear that "you were so far beyond consideration for this position, we don't even have to pretend to keep your stuff on file."

You just don't send back resumes. If you're not interested, you THROW THEM AWAY. I was trying to explain all this to LISBF and he kept trying to bring up a point for the other side, some sort of small lexicon of the universe where it is okay to return things that normal people understand are obviously not okay to return.

Finally, I snapped at him and told him that if we ever break up, I don't want to see ONE SINGLE gift I've given him sent back to me. It's tacky. If you don't want it, donate it to charity or throw it away. But there are some things you DO NOT SEND BACK.

And portfolios are one of them. I don't want to work for anyone that tacky, anyway. Bitches.

Not a drop to drink

LISBF and I met up at my house around 7:45 last night, quickly devouring the 18 piece wings dinner that I brought home from BW-3. Afterward, I offered him a wet wipe. Kind of a joke between us because he doesn't understand why I sit at the coffee table, cleaning my hands with five or six wet wipes when I could just use the sink.

From the kitchen, I heard his voice, with a bit of "uh-oh" in the timbre, "LCN?" He walks quickly to the bathroom, "LCN?" And back into the living room, holding his sticky hands out in front of him ala a surgeon on ER, about to be gloved up ... "There's no water."

We both look down at the pile of used wet naps I've discarded on the coffee table. "Want a wet wipe now?" I ask.

After calling the water department, going next door to verify that their water was flowing like the Amazon, checking to see that the water bill had been placed in the "paid" pile, and calling the water department again ... I really had to pee.

We waited for the water department guy to show up and take care of what he guesstimated would be a clogged meter. When I saw him walking around the house, I ran out to see what was the matter, and whether we should load up and drive out to LISBF's for the night.

I'd been shut off from lack of payment. "But, that's impossible" I stammered "... it's in the 'paid' pile!"

Apparently, there was a flaw in the system.

So first thing this morning, I went down to the municipal building to pay the $23 balance on my account ... and the $37 re-hook-up fee. Which, I think, involves sending someone out to my house to cut the tag off my meter.

A high price to pay for my forgetfulness, but it's worth knowing that I can once again pee freely.