Thursday, February 23, 2006

Squeeky, Part One

I've mentioned the new roomie.
Let me give you an example of why I am becoming an alcoholic.

Two nights ago I come down stairs at 10pm to let her know that I can hear absolutely every word out of her mouth while lying in bed trying to rest. I tell her I can understand her excitement that Joe Blow called but that I am not feeling well and don't think 10pm is too rediculous a time to ask that the volume of her informing K of the texting festivities not measure on the Richter Scale.
She is quick to comply, looking at the clock and reporting "I totally understand wanting to lay down when your not feeling well and I think 10pm is a toooootaaaallllly reasonable time to maybe even make a rule to be quiet at."
I slowly and quietly thank her for being aware of her surroundings for the rest of her conversation and go up to my room to read in peace and quiet.

The next morning after snoozing the alarm twice I get the dogs up and get them outside. This is usually the end of my morning, but more often than not I wake to the slamming of cupboard doors. I was in the mood to walk in and just start slamming them with her to see how much fun it was. If she does it every morning with two people sleeping upstairs, its gotta be fun, right?
So I'm standing in the kitchen talking to and petting the cat while the dogs do their thing and she says "good morning, are you feeling any better? we tried to be quiet and went outside to talk but I wasn't sure if your window was open so we still tried to be super quiet so you could rest... do you want to take some of my vitamins? I mean is it like an upset stomach or like a cold or..." I started talking over her just to get her to breathe. "Its my period, and after all the busy-ness of the weekend its just hitting me hard and I wanted to sleep through it is all." "oh."
The dogs come in as she is meandering over to a cupboard. I watch in anticipation of fury (while my hair is partially mohawked, my eyes glued shut with pixie dust, and my clothes only half as wrinked as my pillow as my face print clearly shows) as she gently and considerately holds the door closed THREE TIMES.
And she didn't even slam the door when she left the house.
**can you all read that caption? It says "how many times have you just thought... "if I just close my eyes the bitch will go away?" Imagine the vocal chords on that yippy foo foo dog. Now make that frow on a 22 year old Cal State Long Beach Fashion Design graduate with a flat ass and long pointy nose. Continue.**

Flash forward. I've had a work day with no one at work, a job interview where references are the only thing standing in my way of starting a new job in 40 hours, and I took the afternoon off to email from home and lay flat in bed for a while. I come downstairs while Squeeky is in the kitchen making dinner. She hears me in the next room and two minutes later says "hey, hows it goin? are you feeling any better?"
I am SHOCKED that she quite talking after only two sentances. I turned the corner and said "no, not really, but if I take any more ibuprofin I won't be able to ask my muscles to get me back up the stairs so I'm thinking of trying the vodka and ibuprofin combo of numbing myself." I see her standing in front of the glass cabinet and sneer.
Her reply as a Catholic HS graduate and current bible thumper who dates a guy for months without sleeping with them but is out in the clubs three nights a week is "oh no, thats bad. Maybe try some Vicodin or Codine, ::big exaggerated head bobbing nod:: that stuff really helped me when I would get aching stomach cramps in high school."
UM. HUH. I'm confused. You have to get over your hangover by the late service and put on your flowered skirt to match your bible cover but you were on Vicodin in high school???
I came up with something like "well, since those things would take adoctors visit and perscription and I am taking a severe pay cut to stay employed next week, maybe I'll just stick to the double shot of vodka thats already in the freezer to work through this particular bought of stress induced physical pain."
"oh, ::smack lips:: yeah, it does cost money, that sucks. blah crackapoo suckfitlbugs.." I don't know what she was talking about because I was on my way upstairs. I heard her a good two minutes later when I went to wash down some ib's with the tap water, talking away to I don't know who since K wasn't home and T was upstairs with me...

This is an example of the kind of thoughts I am subject to in my own home.
This is the same person who takes magic marker to denote which food is hers in the fridge by covering the entire label with her name. It happens to be my nicname, but spelled wrong. I was raised hearing that name from my parents and family and best friends and now it is the name that haunts my home, and its spelled wrong.

My gym bag is in the car but I'm sitting here because standing at the copier sounds like it would hurt too much. Maybe tonight I can get a nipple on that bottle of vodka before she hogs the kitchen.
Practice my sucking up skills for the new job.

OH - UPDATE - The new boss still didn't get a call back from Little Miss Bitch at 3pm and the email I got at 10am was "lets plan on a Monday start date barring any complications". Its now 5:06pm and I know LMB has been at her desk for 35 minutes since I checked on her. She was oogling a sonagram picture. She told me at 9:30am that she was swamped with meetings today but would surely get back to that call and was so glad I found something so quickly because she was worried for me. Yep. Then make the f*cking call you eye rolling whiner.

My desk was cleared of all personal belongings since last Friday, I've told who I wanted to tell I am leaving (except Soooper Cutie who is out of town again), and unless LMB decides she is going to be a 'complication', I have to warn you all my blogging will have to be after hours until I figure out how much personal time is "too much at that desk".
Until then, I have one more day in Cubeville on the books... then I forsee white walls with blue carpet and business blazers over all my outfits and an eye on all the positions in the company so I can move up in three months like all the other girls who've been at that desk in the last year =)


Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Bible-bangers put out more than anybody.

curmudgeon said...

Phukkit. Just shoot her.

Mom of Three said...

Holy shit! Her bible covers match her skirts? That's hardcore!

Tom deflowered more LDS girls than any other kind at his public high school.