Training is over, so I’m no longer bugged… that is, that particular training is over. I’ve got a 2-hour presentation to attend tomorrow, but it’s actually trulyt work-related.
Our toilet is fixed (no fear of potty chairs in this house now! :D) and I’m about to start unpacking more stuff. So I’m off.
PS - I’ll be doing this unpacking in my unders, in case you want to visualize it. White cotton. Very grandmotherly.
Why would I want to visualize that? You don’t want to visualize me nekkid, if I remember correctly, so I figure I’d best return the favor by not visualizing you unpacking your scanties. Fair is fair. Besides, if past history is any guide, inappropriate dealings with married doper wimmin are likely to get me beaten up.
Personal update: I still hate this friggin’ cell phone.
I finally have a bug story to contribute.
This morning, I was still bleary-eyed when I got in to the the shower. Pulled the curtain closed, pulled down the handheld shower head, and leaned over to turn on the water. There was something big and black in the bottom of the tub… Hmmm, eight legs… I’ll take care of this.
Spiders are a lot of fun to watch as they frantically try to keep themselves from being washed down the drain.
No VunderBobs were bitten in the telling of this story.
Heh, wait till she comes back outta the drain at midnight with all her hundreds of very, very hungry babies.
:eek:
Personal update II: I hate people.
Welcome back, susan!
Now I can feel like myself again. 
I just moved into a new cubicle, in anticipation of changing jobs after Labor Day. So right now I’m in a new sea of worker bees, and my boss is nowhere around here. Of course, he’s on vacation anyway, so he wouldn’t be around my old cube, either.
But I kind of feel like I’m independent and able to do what I damn well please.
I should enjoy it while it lasts, since it will surely end shortly.
Hey Ex, cheer up. It’s Friday. That’s got to count for something, right?
Wow, I really suck at trying to cheer people up. Anyway, here’s my buggy story: This past weekend, one of the two cats got outside. They’re both indoor cats, and they seem pretty happy with their lot in life, most of the time. But this past Sunday, the cat I call Fatty McFatso or Fatty McGee, but the fiancé calls Johnny, which isn’t nearly as descriptive or exciting, managed to escape his horrible prison, jump on his motor cycle, and almost escape the Nazis, only to get tangled up in a barbed wire fence right at the end of the movie after one kick-ass jump. Oh, wait, that’s not it. Actually, he got out for a couple hours, and when we found him he was hiding under a bush in the backyard. We took him inside, cleaned him up, and I ran off to work (Yes, I had to work all last weekend. Stupid job.).
I received a phone call later on that day that Johnny was acting weird, and he had this strange gunk on his eyes and ears that wouldn’t come off. I excused myself from work (it’s handy being your own supervisor) and went home. After examining Fat… err, Johnny, I concluded it was just tree sap, and we should try to work some of it off his ears. Well, we got one little piece off. What happens next is strange, unbelievable, and frightening. Well, not really. Turns out that the sap was me, (hah!) 'cause all this gunk was actually clusters of Stick-Tight Fleas, and once we pulled one off, it ran away. Being pretty grossed out be this, and seeing that it took us about 10 minutes to get one out of about 3 million off the cat, we took Johnny to the clinic. 4 hours and $250 later, we got a very sleepy and incredibly cranky Johnny back. They had to sedate him to get all the Stick Tight Fleas off his eyes. We then had to take him to his regular vet on Monday for a more thorough check-up, where he (and Henry, the Other Cat) would have to be de-wormed, poked, prodded, and checked against the national terrorist database in accordance with the Patriot Act. Turns out Johnny picked up ear mites, and some sort of blood infection while he was out gallivanting around the neighborhood (or cowering under the bushes). All told, that freakin cat cost us almost $900, including the exam for Henry (the Other Cat), and all the drugs he’s on now.
Moral of the story: Stick Tight Fleas are bad news. Or, even though you can get them for free, cats are really expensive.
Ewwwwwwwwww!!! Now I’m all itchy!!! Thanks, lightingtool. 
ex, whassup? Why you so down, G???
Lo, susan and scout!
Are you guys kidding me? We couldn’t get this thing to two pages before friggin’ Friday this week? That’s it, I hereby declare us all to be miserable failures unworthy to maintain our posting privledges.
Personal upadate III: this job sucks.
Woohoo! FRIDAY!!! The captain gave us an hour off, just because! So I’m home an hour early.
Am I using the time to unpack? Am I using the time to remove the contact paper from my kitchen walls? Am I doing anything constructive?
Yeah, right…
In keeping with my habit of liking to talk to you in Rue threads (and, heck, all the other ones, too), I’d just like to say that I do too.
And it’s some sort of Cosmic Joke that I keep winding up in Customer Service positions. Especially since my motto now is “The Customer isn’t always RIGHT, but the Customer certainly is always STUPID.”
sigh
Is it my day off yet?
To be perfectly frank… wait, I’m not frank. Anyway, while I can’t truthfully state that I hate all people I can say that some of them are really starting to tick me off.
I’d like to push some of 'em off the edge of the planet I would.
You two are threatening to make me like people again, so I wish you would stop.
I’m starting to get a little bit tired of earnest young socialists. You know what I mean, the kids who don’t understand how the real world works. There’s a new batch every year, and I’m tired of dealing with them. Dumb kids.
Thankfully, they’re going back to school to absorb some more bullshit soon, and when they graduate they’ll be someone else’s problem.
So I’m free untill next June, when I’ll have to deal with the next batch of miseducated retards.