mnvnjnsn's Diary

To contact send email to mnvnjnsnATSIGNgmailDOTcom.



Most people have none, why do I get two?

I have two things I could write about today: one that will roil me up to the point of mouth-frothing, or one that won't. Which will I choose to share? Happy or Angry? Fun or bordering on murderous? Hmmmm. Who thinks they know the answer? Yes? You? The regular reader? What say you?

The murderous one? Damnit-- I'm too fucking predictible.

But here it is. I now have another person who takes the title "That Woman." I don't know how I'll differentiate the two. Perhaps give one an additional descriptive? That Old Woman? No-- that applies to both. That Tiresome Woman? Again-- both. OK, how's this: This one will be That Woman Always Tiresome (TWAT) and the one of which I shall soon complain: That Woman In The way (TWITw).

I have nothing to say about TWAT for the moment. Luckily, my interactions with her are few and far between. TWIT, however, is always underfoot. I had hoped that, the more familiar she became with the workings of the office and spcifically our department, the more she'd calm down. How could I have been so wrong? This woman is even more inappropriately boisterous when she's comfortable in her surroundings. This woman is even pushier in her efforts to kiss ass. This woman is even more hands on now that there is more room between our desks.

Today, after an already trying day, TWIT (the one-- I may have mentioned-- who was unable to figure out where to PLUG IN HER MOUSE) decided that it would be most helpful of her to wrest a piece of phone hardware from my hands and unplug every wire in an effort to help me "figure out" how to set something up. She literally wrestled with me to get it, screaming "WOULDYA LIKE SOME HELP WITH THAT??!??!??!?"

It took all my power and several valium for me to hiss "No. Thank. You."

And on Friday, as I was sitting quietly at my computer trying to solve a conundrum in a presentation that had been edited earlier, but not to the customer's liking (meaning: I made the changes she wanted but didn't read her mind, so now I have to do it again, when actually the program doesn't let you do that anyway), TWIT comes bounding in, slams her hands on my shoulders and yells in my ear


I think next time she does that, I will gently tell her that I do not like to be touched. Ever. And if she makes me expand on that (and she will), I will pointedly take out my pill box and down 6 of whatever I have in there, all the while glaring. Then I will tell her I was molested as a child by an over-enthusiastic computer trainer, and leave the room in tears. On another note, I just think it's great that all the world can talk about is how Cheney shot a guy. Like this is his first.

8:11 p.m. - 2006-02-13


previous - next

latest entry

about me





random entry