People change

Yesterday my father and I got into a debate about what to do with the family of magpies that has decided to live in the trees outside our house.

They're annoying as shit, yes, I know, but my dad says he wants to kill the birds with a BB-gun.

I do have a touch of the humanitarian in me, so I am voicing my opinion against this; what if he only injures the bird instead of killing it? It'll suffer! And why should we take the life of an innocent bird?

The conversation eventually dwindled down and I went out with HB and Elyse later that night.

CUE: MORNING, and I wake up to a horrible headache surely brought on by my bad decisions of last night.

I'm curled up in my bed as Elyse is quietly playing Queen on my laptop to pep me up, and the god damn magpies start squawking again.

They WON'T. STOP. SQUAWKING.

I'm moaning about how much my head hurts and these magpies aren't helping. But I'd rather not have to get up and do anything about it.

SQUAWK. SQUAWK. What, are they having some sort of magpie debate about what to do with the family of humans living in the house beside their tree?

I'm slowly going crazy.

Finally I decide I'm sick of these magpie's shit, and get out of bed.

"I'm going to go throw rocks at these things," I tell Elyse. She nods in understanding.

Begrudgingly I walk to the front door, ready to lay the smack down, and when I step outside I see my father standing in the front yard, looking at the birds as well.

We exchange a knowing glance.

I look at my father, and I says to him, I says:

"Kill them."

A tale of horrible consequence

Today we are gonna talk about work.

I talk about work a lot.

At work, people talk to me a lot. About their problems. About their ex. About how much they hate their life.

Sometimes about their torrid affairs.

They often cry.

Sometimes they openly admit to me, "Sorry for taking so long, it just gets lonely and its nice to have someone to talk to out here."

I AM NOT A CRISIS LINE; I have become damn good at my sympathy-voice but oi vey.

ANYWAY:

Today one of the other assistants, Darin, and I got in a fight.

This doesn't usually happen; the last time we got in a fight was when he accused Sandra Bullock of cheating on Jesse James while he was cheating on her. ITS A SERIOUS ISSUE, OKAY?

But we started getting into a heated discussion about religion and you know how I get.

I start getting very frustrated and end up yelling at him. Darin tells me to drop the subject and at this point I'm pretty furious that he's not letting me speak. I huff and puff and blow the house down storm out of the office to go pick up lunch for everyone.

(Side note: My storm-out was only like a 5/10 on the storm out scale, I ain't no diva!)

WHATEVER THOUGH RIGHT, everyone needs a good storm out every once in a while; I was hungry and in a bad mood. SO SUE ME. (LAWFIRM JOKE, LOLOL)

However, I get half way to the parking lot when I realize that I've forgotten all the money to buy lunch... back in the office.

God damnit.

I consider that maybe I'll just pay for lunch myself to avoid having to make a fool of myself, but I'm already feeling silly about having a bitch-fit...

Fine.

I turn around and run up the stairs to the office again.

Deep breath, grab the doorknob, storm back into the office and before anyone can say anything I announce:

"Okay so forgetting the money to pay for lunch has severely lessened the effectiveness of my storm-out," and quickly grab the money from my desk drawer.

In the background, the other assistant, Michael, bursts into laughter.

I storm back towards the door, pride thoroughly dimished, turn around and say,

"And Darin I'm sorry for telling you to shut up,"

and storm out for the second time.

:|

Making a dramatic exit: not my forte, obviously.

On, and for the record, lunch was mediocre.

PONDERIN'S

I SAID WITHIN REASON.

Yesterday at work I decided to show everyone the grape-in-the-microwave trick mentioned in the previous blog entry.

Best secretary ever!

I had to, damnit. While telling the story of punching Kylie in the face, people seemed to think I was just being abusive, so I had to demonstrate the awesomeness ---

Wait, that's a legit word? Spellcheck seems to think so.

OKAY SO ANYWAY,

To redeem myself, yes, I DID have to use the workplace microwave to cause a plasma-party with the grapes that someone conveniently has left in the fridge for weeks.

That said, I forget what I was actually going to write this blog entry about so fuck y'all, here's a facebook chat gold moment:

Ben:

i am dangerous because i seem non-threatening then all of the sudden the girls banging me and she is all like "how did this happen"

Larissa:

God Ben, with talk like that I'm amazed I haven't found myself in the same situation

My birthday!

DEAR DIARY: Yesterday I turned 21!

It was fantastic.

The night involved many memorable moments, including the following:

1. Waiting with Kylie in my house before we head out for dinner, I suddenly remember that youtube video showing how to make a grape explode by putting it in the microwave.

I've been wanting to try it for a while, and decided to MAKE IT HAPPEN in the kitchen.

So: it happened.

I'm so excited that the grape actually went all PLASMA EXPLOSION that I that I thrust both my hands into the air giggling and going "YEAHHHHH!!!" and promptly punched Kylie in the face.

2. While at the bar celebrating my birthday later on, I meet a man who is also celebrating his birthday there.

We exchange happy birthdays, and he asks for a birthday hug.

OKAY, Its the man's birthday, afterall. So I go to give him a hug annnnd he picks me up.

WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO PICK ME UP?

Naturally I'm wearing a moderately short dress and he clearly hasn't watched any instructinal youtube videos about how NOT to pick up a female in a dress, and he shows my underwear to the entire bar.

Happy birthday!

Fortunately I considered the fact that my dress was short and someone might pick me up, since it always happens, so I made sure to wear appropriately covering pantaloons.

PEOPLE THESE DAYS.

Substance Abuse

Dear Diary:

As I mentioned in my previous blog entry, I stayed home from work yesterday due to being betrayed by chocolate pudding and getting food poisoning.

I sent my boss an e-mail yesterday morning saying I probably had the stomach flu, because when you are the secretary, who answers the phone when you are too sick and need to call in?

NO ONE.

I feel much better today though. My boss was a little concerned and asked me how I was doing:

"Are you okay today?" he asks me.

"Yeah I think it was food poisoning, I'm fine now," says Larissa.

"Is that just your way of saying you were too hungover to come into work?"

(NO FAITH IN ME!)

"NO NO NO," I defend, "I was just really sick, I couldn't sleep all night."

"Do you have a crack problem? I'll pay for your rehab."

(EVEN LESS FAITH IN ME!)

"NO I swear, I was just sick," I say.

"But Larissa, what happens when you're addicted to crack?"

"... You get sick and stay up all night." I say. INSERT FROWNY FACE :(

This is what your brain looks like on drugs:

I ASSUME.