Michelle's Tales, Part Two, and I swear I am not making this bizarre thing up... I wish...

So, I'm at work the other day, and I get one of these emails about 'real people' who are dumb as rocks, and here's the story of one:

"Several years ago, we had an intern who was none too swift.

One day she was typing and turned to a secretary and said, 'I'm almost out of typing paper. What do I do?'

'Just use paper from the photocopier,' the secretary told her.

With that, the intern took her last remaining blank piece of paper, put it on the photocopier and proceeded to make five 'blank' copies.

Brunette, by the way!!"

Ouch.

Right through the heart.

How did my own personal story travel twenty years and who knows how many computers until it made its way back to my desk?

The lady who copied blank paper because she needed more paper…

That was me. First office job. Okay, being my regular self.

Someone must have heard me tell that story. I do not think I've ever written it down, have I?

Unless there’s ANOTHER person out there who did that besides me.

Surely not!!!????

In my defense, I was very young.

VERY YOUNG, OKAY?!

Michelle's Tales, Part One

This is a pretty close approximation to what my hair looks like.

So,
I was blow drying my hair before work in the fourth floor restroom in my building.  I do this every day.  (It saves time, it doesn't tangle my long curls, I have more room.)

To be fair, I am the only person I've ever seen do this, but on the other hand, I HAVE been doing it every day for years. 

On this particular day, someone took offense. 

I'd just finished drying and flipped my hair back, and realized someone was in there with me.

Here's what happened next:

Mean Lady: You can't be serious. 

Me: Huh?

(I've always been quick on the uptake.)

Mean Lady: You're not seriously DRYING YOUR HAIR in here. 

Me (looking around to see if she was talking to someone else): Um. 

Mean Lady: This is outrageous. That can't be sanitary. 

Me (finally catching up): Um, we're in the bathroom. 

Mean Lady: I'm going to report this!!!

And with that, Mean Lady stormed out of the bathroom. 

I took a moment to compose myself... I had genuine visions of ending up like TV's Dr. Green, being beat half to death in the bathroom in E/R. Then I strolled out to the elevator where, yay, Mean Lady was also waiting. 

We waited in silence, got on the elevator in silence, rode to my floor in silence, where I stepped off and never saw her again. 

I think of her though, still, over two years later, every morning when I blow dry my hair in that same fourth floor restroom.

(sigh) I'm still waiting for building management to come have me arrested. It takes just one person to ruin all your fun. :)

Choices color all I've all done...

Hi.

I am a blue square.

I've never fit in with the red squares that surround me. I'm used to it.

I've actually learned to be proud of it.

It hasn't always been easy. Even today, after years of learning to assimilate and, alternatively, develop a thick skin, I cringe when I open my mouth and say the wrong thing to people.

I get blank looks A LOT. ALL THE TIME.

The people closest to me pat me on the head and say I'm special.

I swear, I'm smart. I'm fairly lucid.

I'm just BLUE, not RED.

That is all.

:)

a dc tale...

It was our last stop in Washington D.C, before we started our journey back home.  We were in Union Station...everyone else on the trip was getting their last minute souvenir shopping done.  C and I were sitting at one of the coffee shops biding the time until we could get back on the bus. 

But one of the moms stopped by and asked me to go with her to help pick out a T-shirt...

So we traipse off to this little but VERY pricey souvenir shop in the middle of Union Station.  Pricey and CROWDED...

So C spills her chocolate coffee all over her shirt and the floor...oops...

"Oh no, I can't get back on the bus looking like this, I have to buy a new shirt!"

So she picks out a souvenir T-shirt...

By the time she gets up to the register she realizes that she's been holding the new shirt against the shirt she's wearing that she spilled coffee all over and now the new shirt that she hasn't bought yet is ruined...

She explains to the lady at the counter who looks at her in disbelief since she already spilled coffee on the floor...then the lady swallows and says "that's okay, just pick out a new one"...

So C picks out a new shirt and all is well until money is being exchanged and C swings her foot and it crashes against the bottom shelf underneath the counter and the shelf falls and about fifteen souvenir GLASS MUGS crash spectacularly to the floor.

And the store falls into complete silence and there's little pieces of glass all over the floor.

I'm just staring at the counter lady waiting for her to call the police on me, afraid that this is one disaster too many for her to take.

But I have to hand it to these DC people, she just gulped, and picked up her radio, and muttered into it, and then said to me very quickly,"it's okay, it happens all the time"...but even clueless me could hear the PLEASE LEAVE NOW subtext beneath her words.

I've never moved that quickly in my life.

But C does have a really cute T-shirt now...

Such is...

I think I will start writing journal entries while I'm at work, and posting them when I get home...things are so much better at work than they are at home.  At least lately, they are.  
Of course, now that I've said that I'll probably get fired next week...  
(Of course I wouldn't write while I was at WORK, I meant while I was on BREAK at work.  I would never ever treat my job in such a way!  Shocked at the assumption!)  ;)  
I work in a high-rise building, but I work on the third floor, so I always take the stairs.  
a)  Because every little bit helps, and  
b)  Because I hate that strange vibe you get in elevators when there's more than just you.  
But one day, for some reason, I got on the elevator instead of taking the stairs.  A man was already standing in there.  I pressed '3', and it didn't light up.  I pressed '3' again.  And again.  And stared at the number panel, dumbfounded.  Why didn't it light up?  Why didn't the door close?  
And finally the man said, "Uh, ma'am, you do know that we're already on the third floor, right?..."   ...  
(sigh) Things like that happen to me all the time, unfortunately...
...
........................................................................................  

I don't get to go back to work until Monday...I'd run away this weekend, but of course I'd have to take the family with me!