She said “cure”, not “additional fuel for”.
Well, that combo gives me the momentum I need to change the channel, at least.
Oh god. One of my co-workers was walking to her car last night, and some stoner, upset that some hot Latinas were hitting on black men instead of fellow Latinos, started making a scene. Rather than pick on the group of guys and girls, he took out his feelings on my co-worker, who was alone, and simply was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was pulled to the ground by her hair, kicked repeatedly, and called some nasty names.
The witnesses called the police, and the guy was apprehended. Amazingly, she showed up at work today, and wound up telling her story a few times.
During the re-telling I heard, One-Upper was there, and had the fucking goddamn nerve to turn the conversation to herself.
Co-worker: (to me and my boss) Do either of you have a doctor here? I need to find one. Or how about a chiropractor–?
OU: Oh, yeah, you should go see a chiropractor. They can really help. I went to see one after my car accident a few years ago. [launches into a mercifully short retelling of her car-accident story] My neck was sore, and my back was sore, and my friend gave me her chiropractor’s number. I had to go to physical therapy every day for a month-- no, maybe it was three times a week… no, four times? No, it was three times a week. They worked on my neck and back and it really helped. I think I need to go see one again. My ankle hurts. When I walk. I’m not sleeping funny or anything, but it hurts…
Co-worker: (gingerly touches the abrasions on her face)
christ.
See, if I had been there, it’s entirely possible her ankle would be hurting because I’d just kicked it. And then I’d kick the other to be sure she got the message that it was time to shut up now.
That’s no longer oneuppery, that is straight up douchebaggery. OU needs punched in the face or at least a dressing down
I don’t think drinking would help. Maybe cocaine.
Well, I didn’t like my job, so I started drinking. Now I don’t have that job anymore.
Worked out ok for me.
Whatever genius invented those mini shopping carts for kids deserves to be rooted with a burnt stick. I am constantly surrounded in the supermarket by a horde of snot nosed kids using mini carts as dodgem carts.
Do they at least beep the little horns to let you know they’re aiming at you?
“Rooted with a burnt stick,” eh? Nice imagery. 
ARRRRRGH! My mom, who works with some of the same people I do, told two of them the embarrassing story of what I did in my crib that time. (Let’s just say I created art with the material I found close at hand). They’re nice people, I’m sure I’ll get over it…but Mom, WTF?
And I hope he is reading this, that was a good tip and I can’t help thinking that if it had happened to me I wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to snatch it back and I would therefore spend the rest of my life regretting it. Good for you.
And that reminds of my favorite tip story.
I had a pizza delivered, the cost was around $18. I gave the guy $25 and he took it without comment, I think he saw the twenty and the extra bill and thought I gave him $21.
After I closed the door, I heard this total whoop of joy from the hallway and a very exuberant and sincere “Thanks Lady!!”
It still gives me a good feeling remembering.
Perfect username/post combo.
She told you too?!?
Well, it was that or you dismembered yourself and then did something with the bits, and that seemed somewhat less likely.
Stupid contact lens! It had to tear before I could get home, and now I’ve got to finish up work with one good eye. Driving home’s gonna be fun.
Okay, real life friends, it’s time to get off the high school dramallama wagon. We’re all in our early 20s now, some of us already having finished our post-secondary education. We should no longer be doing shit like this:
Friend A says she’s coming in March, but no weekend specified. My brother informs he will be in for a certain weekend for a conference and wants to hang with me. I tell Friend A that I’m busy that weekend, and she says that was the weekend she was planning for, but it’s okay.
I tell Friend B about the plans Friend A had. Friend B gets pissed off, saying that just because I can’t be with them, she cancels the visit all together?
So Friend A picks another weekend that works. Friend C then tells us of her intentions to be in the city for her sister’s birthday, so she wants to hang out too. Friend A freaks out and now wants to pick another weekend, because she doesn’t want to have to share me with anyone.
Yes, a 20-something woman wants to pick another weekend because she doesn’t want to share. Even though we’re all in the same friend group.
I give up. I’m checking out. I don’t even care any more. I want to post a Facebook message saying ‘My home is open to all my friends, any day, any time, with any notice. If you are in need, I will be there. If I get a phone call at 2am saying I’m needed, I will hop in my car and drive as far as I need to go. But stop acting like we’re still in high school.’
I pit insomnia. Anytime anything remotely new or mildly anxiety provoking happens in my life, such as, in this case, returning to school/work from Spring Break, I can’t fucking sleep. I remember one extreme before I started a job I really wanted, I missed 3 straight days of sleep and had to have my husband drive me to my first day of work. I was afraid I was going to start hallucinating by that point.
And I’m not one of those people who can just grin and bear it. I function very poorly on inadequate sleep. Everything I eat makes me sick, so I’m twice as weak, and I can’t talk or think coherently. I’m so sick of this.
I have stuff to do today - I really can’t spend the entire day a couple of feet away from a toilet, but that seems to be exactly how I’ll be spending today. Gah.
A completely-unrelated rant - I had an old perfume, Xia Xiang, with a beautiful bottle. I lost my mind and threw the bottle away, and now I want it back to use as a stamp in my pottery. Looking it up online, they want $50 and up for this discontinued perfume! Oh well. Live and learn.
I have successfully swayed at least one of my officemates into antagonizing One-Upper. Every time she interrupts him with her string of nos, he rips right back at her.
Co-worker: So we started picking pine needles out of the camel’s teeth, and–
One-Upper: No, no, no, no, no, this one time, I was–
Co-worker: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!
I don’t think she gets what he’s doing. She just stares at him for a moment before her mouth takes off again.
We figure that if she’s gonna be around, we may as well have fun with her.