January 12, 2005
God Has a Sick Sense of Humor and I Have O.C.D.
So I was bemoaning the fact that I have nothing to write about because nothing funny ever happens to me and my life is a huge void. Why can't I have vertigo like Heather or a caved-in driveway like Nicholle? Waah waah waah.
And when I'm bored, I eat. Or in this case, drink. I cracked open a Clearly Canadian, only to have it GO INSANE AND SHOOT FIZZ ALL OVER EVERYTHING.
You know how there's that one second where you have no idea what's going on or how to react? It's amazing how it only took that one second for my bubbly, peachy goodness to betray me and go everywhere.
In my hair, all over my face and glasses and hoodie and pants, down my shirt, on my shoes, all over the carpet and desk, my phone, mouse, mouse pad, Barbie calendar, mail, Chandler's, computer, monitor and -- God help me -- my keyboard.
But nooOOOooo, God's not gonna help me, cuz God's too busy LAUGHING! "You want something to blog about? I'll give you something to blog about!"
So there I was, dripping wet with no napkins, and silently thanking my cruel, cruel God that at least no one was around to witness His Job-like smoting of me.
I didn't really know where to start, so I was just dabbing wildly with Kleenex, until I saw my keyboard. Oh fuck. I.T. is going to kill me. And then I remembered that Older Sister once mentioned taking apart her keyboard to clean it.
So I IMed her, "Come over here now. It's an emergency."
Did you know that they individual keys of the keyboard just pop right off? Who knew! It's amazing! And even MORE amazing was the 6 years worth of crumbs underneath the keys!
So I call to my boss, "Hey, T, you wanna see something gross?"
And that's what I love about men. They always want to see something gross. You ask a woman that, and she'll just look at you like you're retarded and go back to shopping online. But a man will stop in the middle of whatever he's doing to see something gross. Okay, he may not stop in the middle of getting a blowjob, but you know he'd consider it for a second.
(Oh. My. God. Microsoft Spellcheck just checked my spelling on blowjob and politely reminded me that it's one word, not two.)
I called I.T. and asked Doogie to bring me some computer cleaning supplies, with the specific command not to ask questions. When he arrived to see my keyboard in pieces, Doogie offered to bring me a new one, but I declined. Why should I get a new one when I have one in perfectly good working order right here? Because isn't that what's wrong with America? And if I do that, then the terrorists have already won! Or something.
And besides, cleaning it was infinitely more satisfying. I got to use that cool Air-In-A-Can stuff, and then there was shit all over my carpet, but I didn't care. The cleaning crew will get it... eventually (once had a Good 'N' Plenty under my desk for weeks, and don't ask me why I didn't just pick it up myself -- it's the principle, man!).
And once I had done the main part of the keyboard with the letters and Enter and stuff, it looked so nice, I did all the rest of the keys, too. I had a great time, wrapping a Lysol wipe around my car key to get the gunk out of the corners, and wiping down each key individually before snapping them back into place! Mind you, my bangs were crusty from dried soda, and my pants were sticking to my legs, but who cares! The keyboard was getting soooooooo clean!
But you know what happens when you clean one thing. Then everything else looks like shit compared to it, and you have to clean everything. So next was the phone. Then I took everything off my desk and wiped it down, and then wiped stuff down as I put it back in a very organized fashion. But it felt weird to have the desk surface look so brand spankin' new, when I knew that my desk drawers were a mess. So yeah, I cleaned out my desk drawers and reorganized them.
It's clear that my O.C.D. kicked in at some point there, but I'm not sure exactly when. Probably the Lysol wipe around the car key thing. But who cares! I'm, like, orgasmically delighted now with my sparkling clean desk! And it only took me four hours!
And I cut my pinky somehow in the process, so I'll probably get mad cow disease because God only knows how many times I've sneezed into the keyboard. (And God's not telling because -- did I mention? -- He's still laughing His ass off. "Did you see that?! It went in her hair!") And surely all the germs have been thriving on the Pop Tarts and Oreos in there, so my next blog will be from the I.C. Unit of Mr. Drillbit Hospital. Thank goodness we have our own wing there now.