"Hey B, what you got goin on over here?"

or any variation is a question I am constantly asked at work. And it frustrates me with no end in sight. It has gotten to the point where I have to whistle or make noises to cover up the annoyed grunt that have become increasingly involuntary.

I keep to myself, do what I have to do, get paid and leave. But somehow these people I work with have some sort of fixation with that and have to poke their noses into everything I do. What could I possibly be doing that piques your interests? Is it something so sinister that you have to look over my shoulder every time I check my email or text someone? Am I secretly plotting to blow up or shoot up the building? No, it'd be a waste of explosives and bullets.

I'm not hiding anything. You can see in plain sight what I am doing. Working, like you should be.

At least at my last job I only had to worry about the numerous cameras looking at me. Paranoia is much better in comparison to completely knowing you are being watched.

Does my tendency to not joke around and laugh out loud like the rest of you make me that much of an outlier? Am I considered strange because I don't fall in like the rest of you? That I don't have anything to add to your conversation?

How could so many nosy people be assembled to work in one office is a wonder. Everyone is deep in everybody else's bullshit. A bunch of gossiping hens - both the men and women there!

Thank goodness for fire escapes and stairwells as they have become my only refuge from the scrutinizing horror.

Hey, B what are you up to?

None of your fucking business.




Oh, it's been a while since I posted here I see...

Starting the New Year On the Right Foot.

After a successful NYE celebration, and the basement all to myself, I saw a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale left over. I figured, why not? Just one more before I went to bed. There wasn't a bottle opener in my immediate area. And I did not want to crack it open on the desk.

But there was a spoon. I got the spoon, placed it under the edge of the bottle cap, and pulled as if I were whittling a piece of wood. A small whoosh sound came from the cap, letting me know that I was doing it right. The spoon slid out from under the cap.

Right then and there I knew I had done something wrong. I let out a sigh and looked at my finger which which now had begun to bleed profusely. If my nails were any shorter, a bigger chunk would have been taken out of my fingertip.

No band-aids to be found, so a piece of duct tape and toilet paper had to suffice.


I cut my finger while trying to open a bottle of beer with a spoon. It seemed like a good idea at the time...



Happy New Year!

A Year of Change

Not because of our new President, who brings with him hope and and optimism. But because of the optimism I feel within myself coming into the end of 2008. I have seen a lot of signs every day that things will change for me this coming year. I have opened myself up to new things, met more people and through them learned to express myself more and diversify. This may not make any sense, and as I read, it more than likely sounds like rambling in vagueness. However, 2009 will hopefully be my transition year. To what? I have no clue, but I'd rather let it unravel as things go along.














Dicks.