tuesday tuesday tuesday
I was sitting here thinking about work and how annoyed I am with it, when part of my brain kicked in and said, "Well, at least it's almost the weekend." And I felt relieved. And then I realized it was Tuesday, most definitely not almost the weekend. Harsh, harsh realization.
I was eight minutes late to work today because my father borrowed my car and fixed the time to daylight savings. How would this make me eight minutes late to work? Well, while doing so, he set my clock to the Actual Real World Time instead of Eleven Minutes Ahead Of Real World Time, which I'd been using for the last year or so. And so I sat in the parking lot for five minutes this morning, putting on lip gloss, curling my eyelashes, tooling around listening to the radio (because I hate being early to work almost as much as I hate being late), killing time I should have been spending at my desk.
The sad part is that I was wearing a watch and just never looked at it.
Work today was sloooow, as was yesterday. It's like as my time with the company is winding down, time itself is winding down until a minute to the rest of the world is like an hour to me. Adding to the fun was the fact that I spent all day with this random rap song in my head which slowly drove me insane until at the end of the day I was talking about it to random people. "I have the most annoying song in my head," I'd say, "it's been there all day, and I'd hum a few bars or give you a few lyrics but it's a rap song and I would sound too embarrassingly suburban and excessively white if I did that, not to mention the fact that I don't really know the words so much as I know a few of the vowel sounds and the general beat, and so I'll just reiterate that it's driving. me. crazy!" Randomly, yesterday I had 50 Cent's In Da Club in my head all day long, which was a bit more dangerous because I do know the words to that one and found myself sitting at my desk, drawing up a spreadsheet muttering "if they hate then let 'em hate and watch the money pile up" while my supervisor was standing behind me waiting to give me something to do.
Said supervisor handed off the work and then looked over my shoulder and said in this tentative voice, "Well, uh, that's an interesting book there."
She was, of course, looking at the book "The Ku Klux Klan: A Bibliography" which was sitting on my desk waiting for me to look over at lunch. I told her it was for a project but she still looked at me kind of weird.
Speaking of the project/presentation, it is over! And I think it went rather okay. I got an intentional laugh! Describing one of my books, I said something like, "...the author describes the work as historically accurate but told in a narrative fashion with 'no distracting footnotes' which is kind of like saying 'no distracting facts.'" The fact that they all laughed at this may say more about how boring the class is, or how boring grad students are, than my actual sense of humor.
Today at work I was doing one of those annoying, endless copy jobs in the copy room when I looked down and noticed this huge, crusty stain on my sweater right below my left boob. I mean, huge, awful-looking, gross-as-hell stain, which kind of looked like I'd been lactating cream of broccoli soup (the cause of the stain) and I hadn't seen it AT ALL for the three and a half hours since lunch. Thus cementing my status as the Mysteriously-Stained Temp with a Tardiness Problem and a Penchant for Gangsta Rap and KKK Literature. And if that isn't a title to wear proudly, I don't know what one is.
I was eight minutes late to work today because my father borrowed my car and fixed the time to daylight savings. How would this make me eight minutes late to work? Well, while doing so, he set my clock to the Actual Real World Time instead of Eleven Minutes Ahead Of Real World Time, which I'd been using for the last year or so. And so I sat in the parking lot for five minutes this morning, putting on lip gloss, curling my eyelashes, tooling around listening to the radio (because I hate being early to work almost as much as I hate being late), killing time I should have been spending at my desk.
The sad part is that I was wearing a watch and just never looked at it.
Work today was sloooow, as was yesterday. It's like as my time with the company is winding down, time itself is winding down until a minute to the rest of the world is like an hour to me. Adding to the fun was the fact that I spent all day with this random rap song in my head which slowly drove me insane until at the end of the day I was talking about it to random people. "I have the most annoying song in my head," I'd say, "it's been there all day, and I'd hum a few bars or give you a few lyrics but it's a rap song and I would sound too embarrassingly suburban and excessively white if I did that, not to mention the fact that I don't really know the words so much as I know a few of the vowel sounds and the general beat, and so I'll just reiterate that it's driving. me. crazy!" Randomly, yesterday I had 50 Cent's In Da Club in my head all day long, which was a bit more dangerous because I do know the words to that one and found myself sitting at my desk, drawing up a spreadsheet muttering "if they hate then let 'em hate and watch the money pile up" while my supervisor was standing behind me waiting to give me something to do.
Said supervisor handed off the work and then looked over my shoulder and said in this tentative voice, "Well, uh, that's an interesting book there."
She was, of course, looking at the book "The Ku Klux Klan: A Bibliography" which was sitting on my desk waiting for me to look over at lunch. I told her it was for a project but she still looked at me kind of weird.
Speaking of the project/presentation, it is over! And I think it went rather okay. I got an intentional laugh! Describing one of my books, I said something like, "...the author describes the work as historically accurate but told in a narrative fashion with 'no distracting footnotes' which is kind of like saying 'no distracting facts.'" The fact that they all laughed at this may say more about how boring the class is, or how boring grad students are, than my actual sense of humor.
Today at work I was doing one of those annoying, endless copy jobs in the copy room when I looked down and noticed this huge, crusty stain on my sweater right below my left boob. I mean, huge, awful-looking, gross-as-hell stain, which kind of looked like I'd been lactating cream of broccoli soup (the cause of the stain) and I hadn't seen it AT ALL for the three and a half hours since lunch. Thus cementing my status as the Mysteriously-Stained Temp with a Tardiness Problem and a Penchant for Gangsta Rap and KKK Literature. And if that isn't a title to wear proudly, I don't know what one is.