Out of The Office

This last week has been crazy..

I was out of the office almost the entire week.. and this week I get to do it all over again..

I've been at our main office in Galveston working with my Work Wife (who I love) because she's swamped, and I'm not..

And though I love her to pieces and she would be busy no matter what, I have to say, after working with her for a week that she is crazily disorganized.. or maybe she just organizes in her own way. I don't know, but I couldn't find anything in her office.. Hell, she had 8000 emails in her inbox!!

Anyway, I have to go help her again next week, which is awesome, because then I don't have to see Redneck Boss and Coon Ass Boss and FNG..


While I was gone however, I did have a run-in with Napolean Boss.

(are you noticing that I have a lot of bosses?? That's right, I am the dirt on the peon's shoes)

Napolean Boss is new. And contrary to his blog name, he doesn't have Napolean Syndrome - but he would be fully within his rights to, since he's all of 5'3", maybe.

But I like Napolean Boss. He gets shit done.

I call him and tell him I need something taken care of and that day it's taken care of.

The other bosses take at least a week.

But last Friday he decided that I need to get on a boat.

That's right a fucking boat.

As in the kind that is on the water.

And to top it off, it was a broken boat, on the water.



I don't know if you've ever gotten onto a working boat. But at least at our terminal, you have to step off of a concrete slab that is the dry land, onto a log (that looks like it could rot away at any moment) that is attached to the slab and then up onto the ledge thing on the boat and then climb your happy ass over the side to get on.

And my almost 200 lb self was doing this while shaking violently with the help of a 150 lb man who is 3 inches shorter than I am.

By the time I got on the boat I thought I was going to vomit.

And Napolean Boss says, "See! Now you can say you were on a boat! Just as stable as land."

Except that it's not because it's moving!!!!

So we went upstairs and downstairs and into the wheelhouse and back.

And the place he decides to get off the floating deathtrap required me to jump (yes, I said jump) from the boat to the concrete slab.

I don't like him anymore. In fact I hate him. And I may demand the waive my drug test if they ever make me do it again.

And he wants me to go on a boat ride this week.. As in where the engines are on and there are other floating deathtraps around you to crash into.

Can I call in sick with an anxiety attack??

What's in There??

We're going to start a new little periodic feature, because this has been cracking me the hell up, and it's not fair that I don't share it with y'all.

One of my co-workers, FNG, drives a truck. And really, you just never know what you're going to find in the back of FNG's truck. One day it's beer boxes, the next, uprooted plants, who knows..

This was today:




Yes, that is a green toilet.

I told you, I work with a bunch of redneck men.

I have no idea what he's doing with it or where he got it, but it's in the back of the truck today.

Since it appears to be with all of his fishing stuff, I can only assume it's for use when he fishes, but God, I hope not.

I also hope that it's supposed to be green.

I'm Too Random for My Blog

Its a random kind of day, so here's a sample:

Redneck Boss cannot speak proper English. He sent me an email the other day that said:

That are a clock would be our best bet. We will start looking Monday.

What does that even mean??




Do you ever think that you’re not cool enough for things?? Like your car, or your phone, or your shoes?? Like maybe they’re singing the “I’m too Sexy” song about you..

I’m too sexy for this girl, too sexy for this girl too sexy baby!!

Ok, maybe it’s just me.



Why do people like to insist they know things about other people's lives??

Yesterday Mr. Eyes & FNG were talking about Colonel Sanders insisting that he didn't need overtime because he's got a shitload of money. WTF?? Ya'll we don't work someplace where everybody's all best buds so how the hell would anyone know that?? Besides, Colonel Sanders lives in White Trash KKK City, why would he live there if he was rolling it in??

People need to mind their own business.


I heard on the radio that 90% of women would prefer to have a perfect body themselves rather than have a significant other with a perfect body. They needed a study to figure that out?? They could have just asked one woman that and gotten their answer.

The Cats in the Attic

No really, there are cats in my attic. I tend to think we should leave them alone, cats are very self sufficient and there’s nothing up there. And if they want to fry in my bazillion degrees attic, more power to them, but I’ve gotten lots of advice on how to deal with them, mostly from the guys at work.

Coon-Ass Boss says to throw some rat poison up there and then go retrieve the dead bodies.

Yuck.

FNG says to throw a dog up there, preferably a rat terrier (he has a neighbor I can borrow one from) and let it kill them and bring the bodies to me.

Redneck Boss says that Dodger can do the job.

Again, yuck.

Old Pervert and Colonel Sanders for once didn’t have any advice.

Go figure.

Tallulah says we should feed them, and hug them and love them forever.*

Um, no. We already have a cat that I don’t like, we do not need more.

*She actually didn’t say that. I’m not really sure what she said, because I was at work when they were discovered, she probably really said “Awwwwwww!!!!!!!!”, but I guarantee she was thinking something to that effect, she’s a cat person.

And incidentally I'm doing the Friday Follow - I'm not entirely sure how it works since my phone is smarter than me, but I really like the idea..