We are generally the better persuaded by the reasons we discover ourselves than by those given to us by others.

I haven’t decided my mood yet today. It’s still up for debate.

In which Alice fell down the rabbit hole and came out crabby-
I, of course, slipped into an alternate dimension this morning and was late for work. Apparently at some point in my normal routine I took a 10 minute detour to Narnia and danced with the creepy child molester goat man and then came back to finish up Seth’s egg sandwich. So of course I completely forgot that we do a morning meeting at 8 on Wednesday’s. Which kind of makes me mad because I get in at 8 (everyone else but my partner* in records and I comes in at 7:30) so I’m always the last one at said meeting and therefore, even on the days I’m not deciding if “eat me” and “drink me” tabs on things are sexual or not, I always look like I’m late. So I’m sitting at my desk three minutes late when the little reminder thing on my outlook pops up and goes “Remember that meeting?” and I run to the back table and try to sneak in without looking too guilty and mumble something incoherent about forgetting and sitting back at my desk. In said meeting I find out my partner* is going to be late (really, it’s almost 11:30-what is the definition of late? She has this really annoying habit of saying that she is going to be late and then not showing up at all and I sit here all day and increase my knowledge of all things internet)
When I get back to my desk there is a 45 MINUTE VOICEMAIL MESSAGE from some guy who is going for the world record use of “um” in a sentence. He’s looking for a record, and of course its records I don’t have access to or even know who to go to get said access (I guess I need more training). I listen to his WHOLE hemming and hawing spiel where he repeatedly starts and stops and leaves pretty much the most annoying message ever just to get his name and phone number, which of course, he rushes through at the end. I debate calling him back and telling him I have no idea what he’s talking about and the next time he has a records request to just email it to me because the man cannot leave a proper message to save his life. I also debated making him a list of proper message leaving tips and techniques. But in the end I just wrote down the records numbers and decided to tell Pat when she came in. Which was almost painful for me because at my last job, we had this thing called the 1/24 response (1 hour to respond to the request and 24 hours to complete it or follow up with an update) to people and it was DRILLED into me and all I could think was how I was violating this major rule. But there is no rule like that here at NPP. So of course, I let it go and lo and behold some guy comes sauntering into my cube to tell me about how he found said record without my help and references his voicemail repeatedly. It took everything in me not to tell him off for his poor voicemail skills.

*I’m still deciding on what to call the woman I work with in records. I used to call her my trainer, but since she doesn’t really train me anymore, that doesn’t seem appropriate. And she’s not my boss or anything, basically I’m her back up, she’s been in the job like 80 years and is going to retire soon and then I’ll take her place, I’ve been trying on different titles. Commandant wore out quick. I’m open to suggestions. Partner is making me feel like I should move to Connecticut or something and fight for equal rights in the ER-when I really could care less if she is there if I’m dying or not.

Marco-Polo!

I was just sent on a wild goose chase to deliver a records request. All of our scanners are down at NPP, so when we have records request I have to make copies and deliver them. I wondered around cubicles aimlessly trying to find the guy that no one has ever heard of apparently. I travelled to the side of the building I used to sit at when I was on projects and some guy who eats a lot of yogurt is sitting at my old desk. I kind of felt a pang of jealousy. It was nice and quiet over there and it has a great view of the river and the eagles that nest out along the river. And they have ample parking on that side of the building too. I almost walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder and choked out-“Treat her well, she’s a great cube” and ran off wailing. Instead I went downstairs to continue my game of Marco Polo with the guy who makes records requests but doesn’t tell you where he sits.

How much does a brain to mouth filter cost? I think mine needs replaced.
A conversation I just had:
Me: When did the opposite side of the building get a secretary over there?
Coworker: Well, all the secretaries were sitting together by the VIP offices, but then they moved her over there.
Me: What was she gossiping with the other secretaries and had to get separated? *snickers*
Coworker: No, the design team decided they needed their secretary closer to the engineers so she could service them better.
Me: Oh I get it, she’s in the *air quotes* service industry WINK! She must have been the slutty secretary of the group. HAHAHAH
Coworker……


High five Ryan!
I voted last night on American Idol for the blind guy. I only did it because I’ve made about 20000 jokes about him over the last couple of weeks and I decided that I needed to get on the right side of karma. And he sang a great song- “Mandolin Rain” by Bruce Hornsby-which by the way-WHO KNEW THAT THOSE WERE THE LYRICS? The lyrics BLOW. But I had no idea the song was about Banjo’s and mandolins and crap like that. I’m going to have to ask my dad if he knew that. Of course, I can’t tell you what I THOUGHT the lyrics were since I’ve heard the real ones…Of course the blind guy TOTALLY rocked Ryan by asking for a stationary high-five-way to go SCOTT-he’s my new favorite. I totally won’t mind if he wins it all. Even though I giggle relentless at the thought of the blind guy doing the group dance numbers and the commercials.

Reason number 389723894582 Carrie is going to hell:
Carrie: Is that the blind guy’s brother escorting him through the camera wave and name announcement moment of American Idol?
Seth: They look alike.
Carrie: He’s hot-I guess it’s good to be blind, at least he doesn’t know he’s the ugly brother…*cackles*
Seth: Jesus, Carrie…

I’m going to be an overbearing mother
Last night I was sitting in the bathtub reading my fitness magazine and repeatedly snorting at their healthy lifestyle suggestions (Smash ½ an avocado and an egg and smear it in your hair for extra shine!-WTF? How long have they been giving this “new” tip?) and Seth was on the phone with his mom. All of the sudden Bags appears at the side of the tub and peeks his head over (per usual) and begins wailing incessantly (also per usual-he doesn’t really like the concept of my floating head) when I splash him with my bathwater he runs away into the spare room doorway and immediately starts HORKING violently. Which causes me to scream for Seth at the top of my lungs. Seth hangs up with his mom mid run to witness Bagheera finishing up his dry heave. Now to my defense, he has been acting really weird lately. This is the cat who wants nothing to do with anyone and has spent the last couple of days crawling into my lap any chance he gets, even when I’m on the can. So I really felt this was the moment he was going to die in front of me. I make Seth get him water (of course, my cat attempting to die does not warrant me getting out of my bubble bath-pssshhhtt.) and make sure he’s okay. He then returns to his phone call with his mom that I hear starts out as “Yeah Carrie was freaking out again about the cat” and then laughing. DON’T MOCK THE SKILLS.

We close tonite with:
Well I think my mood is snarky and chatty, which is a damn shame because no one is emailing me at all today and I have nothing to do and all this funny to share. Obviously. And for those of you who are going to complain that I wrote too much and you can’t catch up-oh boo hoo. Be quiet. If you would email me, I wouldn’t have to talk to myself all day.

Love, (the new paragraph title idea)
Carrie