April 27, 2005
More Sudafed-Induced Blathering
Well, I'm still breathing outta my mouth like an inbred, knuckle-draggin', banjo-pickin', tube-top-wearin' hick, so buckle up and prepare for yet another post that wanders around like my dog finding the perfect place to poop. Goddamn sinuses.
And speaking of white trash (oooh, that was almost a segue!), at the Kane County Antique Doll & Toy Show on Sunday, Joe and I were talking about what white trash food we like to indulge in every once in a while.
Okay, so mac 'n' cheez isn't so much every once in a while for me as it is two times a week, but that's okay. At least I'm not doing crack.
(Which, much like I lose time, is a great justification for many things. "Yes, I purposely tripped a toddler in Toys R Us, but hey, at least I'm not doing crack!")
Ever had fried baloney/bologna? Damn, but that's even better than fried Spam, which, by the way, has to be brown and crunchy on the outside in order to be any good. But when frying bologna, you must be sure to make cuts around the edges, or it'll curl up on you.
(I think it's bologna when it's a food, and baloney when it's an untruth. That's what I'm going with, anyway.)
Tater tots. Biscuits 'n' gravy, oh Gawd, that's sooooo good! Country-fried steak. Basically anything on the menu at Cracker Barrel, really.
Anyhoo, to wrap up this segment, embrash your inner White Trash and have some starch and unidentifiable meat products today!
Okay, on to my own personal beef (meat -- beef -- get it???). When did "Secretaries' Day" become "Administrative Professionals Day"? That's more than double the syllables, which is just too much work for me to say.
And when did secretary become a bad word? Why is it insulting to be called a secretary? I don't get it. Are there still people out there who think that secretaries file their nails and make personal calls and sit on their boss' lap to take dictation? And if so, are we really fooling those people by changing the title?
When I started at my job, my title was Underwriting Assistant. Which is fine and whatever I don't care. I know what I do. I get paid well for it. I don't care if I even have a title. But then people outside our office would call me and ask me questions about underwriting.
I'm like, "I don't know nuthin' 'bout unnerwritin'!" See, in their attempt to superficially elevate my position, my company falsely led people to believe that I even know what underwriting is.
So now, I go by Underwriting Secretary, and no one gets confused. A rose, by any other name, still does the typing and filing, still is the only one who knows which way the letterhead goes in the printer, still covers your ass and makes you look good.
And what did my bosses get me for Secretaries' Day? They all left town for the week. KICK. ASS.
And now for my Final Thought, kinda like Jerry Springer's, only not.
You know how you're walking down a long hallway, and someone's coming the other way, and you don't know what to do for those ten seconds? Like, do you smile and make eye contact the whole time? Do you pretend to just have noticed them as you pass them and say a quick Hi? Do you pretend to examine your cuticles?
I always get these weird urges to do something so retarded that it just nullifies all the awkwardness altogether.
Like today, my sister's boss (who used to be one of my bosses) was coming towards me, and I had this huge urge to take the Karate Kid stance and then almost kick him in the face when he got close.
That would be awesome.