An Open Letter to HIM:

Damn you for being so wonderful. So funny, charming, sweet and adorable. So thoughtful, and considetate. And just over all loveable. Damn you…

Because now I have feelings. How could I not? How could anyone not? The fact that the entire world ins’t following you around like a puppy is beyond me.

But you are there and I am here. You have youth on your side, and I.. Well I don’t. Plus there’s that pesky little married thing. I don’t really know where you stand about how you feel, but I know you desrve to have someone who is young and at the same place in life. Someone who has a flat tummy and perky tits. Someone who will have your babies…

So that leaves me out. =0) And it leaves me with this ache. And even though it would do no good in the long run, I feel I need to tell you what I am feeling. That if I thought you would have me I would leave it all behind. Or, that if I were 10 years younger, I would be bending over backwards to win your heart.

Instead I am left to make this stupid post on this stupid blog that no one reads anyway. (Thank god since this shit is embarassing.) But I feel if I don’t let it out in some way, I will explode.

And I keep asking myself, “What is the worst that could happen if you did tell him?” Well the worst that could happen is you saying anything other than you feel the same way too. Anything less would hurt too much. 

But not saying it hurts alot too.

And I think its pretty clear now that I have lost my ever-loving mind.

So yeah…. damn you.

Me on the right, Reeoh on the left. Chilling in Orgrimar and sitting arm in arm.

You take a 15 year marriage that still has lots of love and companionship, but because of illness has no physical intamacy.

You take a MMPORPG (Massively Multiple Player Online Roll Playing Game) Where you have the opportunity to meet and get to know tons of interesting people from all over the world.

You take the combination of the fact that you can talk to a certain person “over the computer” using a TeamSpeak server, AND the fact that you have a voice fettish, AND the fact that he has a smokin’  hot voice that has juuuust the right balance of soft and sexy.

You take the fact that you like him more each time you talk to him, and he seems to like you also.

You take the fact that you are COMPLETELY addicted to the feelings and emotions that are stirring around. Those endorphins our brains release when we are in those early stages of a crush… or love. 

Like a crack whore, I can’t get enough and will do ALMOST anything to get more. 

Put it all in a plastic baggie and shake it all up and what do you get?

…And so, apparently, has Paris Hilton. The LA County Sherriff’s Department issued this statement today, saying they have decided to release Paris with an electronic monitoring device and she will spend the full remainder of her initial 45 day sentance in the custody of her own home.

The decision was made after “extensive consultation with Los angeles County medical personnel, including doctors at the Century Regional Detention Facility.”

Wow.

My initial reaction was, SOMEONE got paid off. If you believe that being rich in this (or any) society does not afford a person immunity from real punishment, regardless of the crime, you are sadly naiive. Most certainly Paris called daddy on her cellphone that she wasn’t supposed to have, from her isolated cell.

“Daddy these blankets are scratchy. They’re SO not HOT.” 

The doctors at the detention facility would only say the decision was made for medical reasons. This would lead one to conclude that Paris has some sort of malady that prevents her from serving her sentence in her humble cell. But I think they are actually protecting the others.

LA County couldn’t possibly pay for all the medication they would have needed had they allowed Paris to remain in custody.

Imagine all the penicillin it would take to treat the entire population of the Century Regioanl Detention Facility for The Clap.

Edit: All joking aside this situation is incredibly fucked up. I just got this from TMZ:

Law enforcement sources tell TMZ Paris Hilton’s medical condition was purely psychological and that she was in peril of having a nervous breakdown, and that’s why she was released early this morning.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???????

I don’t even know why I am surprised. What it comes right down to, people, is Paris was released from jail because she didn’t want to be there. I hope they riot. I hope that entire facility burns to the ground. 

Praise be, Hell’s Kitchen is BACK! Gordon Ramsey is HAWWWWWT, and I love him. Although its even more obvious this season that they are setting up scenarios to make them especially explosive. Its all getting a bit contrived, but I will watch anyway. Also, I am officicially announcing the Hell’s Kitchen Drinking Game. Every time that big-puppy-dog-Asian-dude cries, you take a shot. But be sure you tivo, because by the end of the episode you will be too blotto to remember who got eliminated.

And now… a glimpse into MY hell.

Me: Thank you for calling My Company, may I have your account number please?

Him: I just want you to tell me who my agent is.

Me: Absolutely. May I have your acount number please?

Him: What are you DEAF? I SAID I only want you to tell me who my agent is.

Me: Ok, well, I am happy to give you that information, but I need to know who you are…

Him: My name is ________.

So I looked up his account by name.

Me: Mr. _______ will you verify your date of birth please?

Him: HOLY FUCKING HELL YOU MUST BE A RETARD!! WHY DO YOU NEED MY FUCKING DATE OF BIRTH TO GIVE ME MY AGNTS NAME??? LEMME SPEAK TO A SUPERVISOR!!!

Me: I am a supervisor sir.

Him: Oh really? Well good. Maybe YOU can explain to me why you need my date of birth to give me my agnts name. This should be stunning.

Me: Well, we ask these questions to verify your identity, so we don’t give account specific information to someone other than yourself. Information about your agent is not necessarily account specific, but I like to get the identification process out of the way, because general questions often lead to account specific questions.

Him: GOD you people are idiots. What do you mean account specific information?

Me: Well for example, your account value. Or-

Him: Did I ASK you for my account value? No. what did I ask you for?

Me: For your agents name.

Him: GOOD. Quit wasting my time with your customer service BULLSHIT and answer my GODDAMNED QUESTION!!!!

Me: Certainly, (I have to add that by this point in a call like this my tone has turned from friendly, to dripping with exaggerated sweet sacrasm. Just enough so I can’t get in trouble.) Your agent’s name is _________, and his phone number is ____________. Is there anything else I can do for you toady?

Him: You’ve done enough. (I love that one almost as much as “Well you didn’t DO anything for me so how can you do anything else for me?)

Me: Ok thank you for calling and have a nice day. (I wait for him to hang up.)

Him: Yeah whatever. (pause) HEY! Are you still there???

Me: Yes, I’m still here sir.

Him: Give me my balance.

Me: Thud Thud Thud (banging my head on my desk)

I have determined that the fastest way to make your favorite song a song you HATE is to make it the ring-tone on your cellphone.

I use “And I Am Telling You” from Dreamgirls, but performed by Lakeisha from this seasons American Idol. Its not that my phone rings that often, because it doesn’t, but when it does ring, the song is stuck in my head. Now I am sick sick sick of it!

***

Speaking of Idol. I will spare everyone the “Melinda Should Have Won America Is STOOPID” rant because I am no longer surprised. Taste is indeed subjective. Besides Melinda is well on her way anyway.

Of the two that sang last night, Jordan should absolutely win. When it came to singing the CRAP song they make the winner release each year, it was obvious Blake thought it was a crap song and it showed in his performance. And because of his performance I thought it was a CRAP song too. I almost fast-forwarded through Jordan singing the song because I thought I would die of boredom. Then something interesting happened. Jordan’s version made it sound like a GREAT song. She really pulled it off, and the tears at the end, whether planned or not were brilliant. Brava darling! I hope you win!

***

 I am an avid World of Warcraft player, but I won’t go into elaborate detail here. You’re welcome. Because even I find it boring when people blog about WoW, and I know what they are talking about. I can only imagine that to a non-WoW player, it would sound like a forriegn language.  Just let me say that I reached a big milestone last night and I am very proud.

***

Tonight is the Lost finale and I am both sad and excited. Locke CAN”T be dead!

***

My favorite expression, by far is “shut the FUCK up!”  Bonnie thinks I should have it tattooed on my forehead, and I have considered it. Soon I will be posting entries awarding my own very special award to people who need to shut the fuck up. It will be my STFU Award. So stay tuned.

In the meantime I will give you a list of people I think should shut the fuck up. Feel free to add yours in comments:

Rosie O’Donnell, Ann Coulter, Britney Spears, Michael Moore, Paris the fuck HILTON and her mother, and anyone who speaks with a French Accent.

To name a few.

So I return to work to encounter “THE STARE.” Thats the glaring look one of my coworkers gives you when she is displeased.

To give youa bit of background, this coworker, I’ll call her M, takes herself a TAD too seriously. Now, don’t get me wrong, in an emergency I would want no one else handling things. She can remember and think of every little detail. She will probably save someones life in some capacity some day. But she doesn’t know when to turn it off, so she can be really intense over situations that are really no big deal.

ANYway I couldn’t wait for her to get off her call so I could get the spanking over with. While I was checking my email a 3.5 floppy disk flew through the air onto my desk with a post it note that said “Trouble ticket # xxxxx34 OPEN FOR 3 DAYS!!!!!”

She was still on a call, but the glare had intensified when she realized I didn’t have a clue what that was supposed to mean, nor was I certain I cared. It wasn’t my trouble ticket. Alas, I had to wait until she was done to find out. the suspense didn’t kill me.

(As it turned out I had left that floppy in an A drive of one of the computers I had been “floating” around on for 3 weeks before they found a desk for me to sit at.)

So she gets off her call and makes a big dramatic thing out of taking off her headset and throwing it on her desk. then she turns to look at me, looking like “Big Delores” in the movie “Hope Floats” after she got hit in the face with a volleyball.

And she just sttod there…

Glaring…

Glaring…

Until…

“Jesus M! what the hell is it?” I finally asked.

“YOU left that floppy in John’s computer.”

“And?”

“AND we couldn’t reboot it.”

“Why not?”

“OBVIOUSLY because YOUR floppy was in it! We had a trouble ticket open 3 DAYS!!!”

“Is it my fault that the techs take so long to respond to trouble tickets?”

“The POINT IS you left the floppy in there and wasted ALL OF OUR TIME!!”

“Why because YOU couldn’t read the error message that said ‘Error reading A drive software’???”

“It didn’t say that.”

“Well it said something like that.”

“You don’t know.”

“No? What did the tech do when he came?”

“He tried to reboot.”

“And how long did that take?”

“Not long, because it didn’t reboot. Then he pointed at the screen, and said….”

“That there was a floppy in the A drive?”

“SHUT UP!” She yelled and lumbered away with her purposeful bouncy walk, which she does to make her pony tail swing, but she only ends up looking like Lurch.

*sigh* I love my job.

Not that it still doesn’t infuriate me that people expect others to conform to their own convenience. But taking it out on Jane might have been a bit uncalled for. And Twitter isn’t exactly only for retards, but I FO SHO don’t get the attraction for readers or posters.

I still have wonderful plans to make that elevator woman’s riding life miserable though. I actually have 3 variations so far:

1. The one I mentioned yesterday - I will get on, push 1 so it stops on that floor, then ride to the basement with her.

2. Get on, push one, get off and take the stairs to the basement and wait for her to get off the elevator.

3. Take the stairs from the second floor to the first floor, call the elevator so it stops there and get on and ride with her to the basement.

I think she’ll get my point. Or kill me.

***

In quiet contemplation, I humbly mourn the passing of the reverend Jerry Falwell.

But I love TMZ’s reaction and announcement of his death. It looked like this:

Jerry Fallwell 1933 - 2007

TOO funny!

The following will be a rant that will most likely not be popular, may offend people, especially Jane and her loyal minions, but frankly my dears, I don’t give a damn.

It started when I checked Jane’s page to see if she had updated. I looked at her latest Twitter entry which said something to the effect of, “People who only take the elevator down one floor should take the stairs.”

This set me off in sooooo many ways.

First of all, how retarded is Twitter anyway? I don’t need to know every little move anyone is making. After reading that little blurb, I envisioned Jane giving the offender a withering look then whipping out her cell phone to text her complaint before she even got off the elevator. And I thought I had no life.

Secondly, and more importantly, WHY EXACTLY should someone take the stairs if they are only going down one floor? To make YOUR day more convenient? So that YOU don’t have to wait that extra freaking 30 seconds? If you are in such a freaking hurry YOU take the stairs!

I get this at work all the time because we have the slowest elevators in the free world. AND there are only 3 floors these elevators have to accommodate, so really ANYONE getting on one of our elevators is only going up or down 1 or 2 floors. Most of the time I hear people talking about other people having the AUDACITY to hold them up by having the elevator stop at the first floor when they are going to the basement. But just the other day, someone actually confronted me in the elevator.

“Don’t tell me you are going to stop us on the first floor.” She sneered as I pushed “1″

“Well I won’t tell you then.” I replied.

“I mean can’t you take the STAIRS??? Its only ONE FLOOR!!!”

“No, actually. I can’t.”

“SIIIIIIIIGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

“Well I understand you are in a hurry to get TO THE GYM,” (she had a gym bag over one shoulder) ”so maybe you can kick off your workout next time by taking the stairs yourself. Its ONLY 2 floors. Have a nice day!” I said cheerily, as I walked out of the elevator.

“Can you believe that shi-” I heard as the elevator doors closed behind me.

You know what lady? Kiss my ass! I am SO SICK of people expecting others to do or not do things simply because it inconveniences them in some way. Fuck all of you. I will take the goddamn elevator to lift me 4 fucking feet if I fucking want to! AND seeing as I don’t give a flying FUCK what you think anyway, I don’t care if you think I am lazy or whatever. And next time I am in the elevator with you, I am going to push 1 to make it stop, but ride all the way to the basement with you, grinning like a cheshire cat. FUCK YOU.

What’s funny is I had forgotten all about it until I saw Jane’s Twitter entry. So thanks alot Jane. Twitter is retarded. You can kiss my ass too.

In fact anyone who uses Twitter can kiss my ass. (Except for Bonnie, but only because I wuv her more than I hate Twitter.)

Oh and since I am ranting like a lunatic anyway? Lemme include the stupid cow who stood behind me in line at the Walgreen’s. You are god-damned RIGHT I wrote a check. I felt your eyes boring into the back of my head. You know what it made me do? Write SLOWER. AND I wrote in WALGREENS, when normally I would have left it blank. And I did the fold-and-tear-the-check-out-carefully-so-as-not-to-have-any-unwanted-tears thing too! FUCK YOU TOO.

Okay someone is coming at me with a straight jacket, so I better run.