Oy.
Returned to work yesterday with a mere 12-hour shift. You know, I had a friend in Pennsylvania who had a meeting in D.C. yesterday and made it a day trip. We left our respective houses around the same time, only he drove four hours each way AND had time to have a meeting and have lunch. And guess which one of us got home first? Yep, NOT ME.
I actually attended my inaugural and perhaps final PubQuiz last Monday, because being able to be anywhere on a Monday at 7 p.m.-ish had to require a vacation day being taken. It’s all good, although I suck at trivia. (Royal Air Force? Seriously? Why on earth would I give up a spot in my brain for Melissa Etheridge lyrics for that?)
To my (small) credit, I was surprisingly knowledgeable during the Britney Spears round. 🙂 There was a question I missed that I shouldn’t have, and I was sort of annoyed, but my friends reassured me that it’s a GOOD thing when I don’t know absolutely everything there is to know about Brit-Brit. (Who, in fact, has to give up custody of her kids by noon tomorrow. Ahem.)
Oh well. When I say it’s good to be back to work, I absolutely mean it. I mean, you know that back-to-school MasterCard commercial where the little boys are dancing to the Parliament song? Blah blah, “Backpack: 20, Being with people who understand you: priceless.” Honestly, that was me dancing around my office yesterday.
Here’s the video, because I suddenly love it so:
Everyone popped in to say hi and welcome back, and it was truly like, wow! I haven’t seen you guys in forevah! Thank gawd I’m home! *resolves to never click heels to be taken away again*
Of course, then you get the snotty comments and the roadblocks and just plain grief from the ones who you needed to escape in the first place, and you’re reminded of why you had to get away in the first place. But at least I’m paid to deal with them. (Note on door, peeps. Is for reading.) But it’s the dumb shit you have to encounter on your “free” time that’s really aggravating.
Speaking of, I’m being summoned to the city to the north that I’ve grown to abhor to do some dirty work. If I have to cancel my plans, as October’s a very social month for moi, somebody is going to get a pointy-toed boot up their badonkadonk.
All I know is that Monroeville’s Red Roof Inn can suck my ass for keeping my iPhone charger (even though I sent them the URL of what it looks like to PROVE it’s mine) and the Greensburg Hampton Inn can eat me — their tub was filthy, General Manager Eric J. Kubas wrote me to say they can find no evidence that my claim can POSSIBLY be true.
I wasn’t looking for a free ride, just a courtesy of hey, that sucked and maybe there’s something wrong with your pipes. Asshole. Put THAT in your pipe and smoke it.
Speaking of smoke, damn it, I’m out of Marlboro Lights. …