Dang people, it's late. I should be in bed. I've been in those flippen beans all night, now they're cooling on the stove. I still have to drain them and stick them in the fridge before bed, I'll put them in bags tomorrow.
I've been wallerin' those damned things for days. I know I know, this is NOT how it's done. I don't have that Martha Stewart gene. I do however, seem to have quite a bit of the Roseanne Barr gene. And just a touch of Daffy Duck.
I was going to tell you about the meter reader showing up at lunch, knocking on the door so she could go through the house to get to the meter (it's a long story.) It included my trying to catch the stupid dogs, being embarrassed that my bra from the day before was hanging on the side of the dog crate, getting a briar vine of some kind wrapped around my leg, thinking it was a snake, ripping a huge hole in the crotch of my pants as I tried to get myself loose and getting back to work and realizing I'd dribbled pimento cheese guts on my blouse.
And it went downhill from there.
I've been cultivating a relationship with this one customer for months. I could foresee the potential to make killer bucks from them in the future and although I don't make a commission, I've been working diligently to do my bit for the bottom line. Today, our production and shipping departments and a serious lack o' guidance out on the floor, managed to completely SCREW UP everything I've worked for months to accomplish.
I swear to you, I thought my customer, a manly he-man, was going to burst into tears when he called to tell me how HORRIFICALLY his order was mangled.
At approximately 4:45pm, after several conference calls, Bossman's promises to the customer to "go out there and ram my foot up someone's ass" and my repeated pleas for SOMEONE to PLEASE take control of the damned place, Bossman wandered down the hall to find me sitting at my desk in my purple fuzzy bedroom slippers, ripped pants, cheese stained shirt, playing spider solitaire on the computer, speakers cranked to the tune of "ya had a bad day..."
He just grinned at me and said, "You look like shit."
To which I replied, "I feel like a pitbull on crack."
He chuckled and walked quickly down the hall.
7 comments:
"I feel like a pit bull on crack", I am SO using that tomorrow ...
May tomorrow find the order fixed and the customer proposing matrimony. May the boss man pull his head out and fire the right people and bring in the perfect replacements. May you not get your ass handed to you in spider solitare.
I am using that line too! Very apropos.
Sorry you had such an eventful day.
I don't have the Martha Stewart gene either - and I say that alot. Funny.
And corralling the dogs so someone can come through the house - NOT fun.
Your brilliant!
DG
"I feel like a pitbull on crack."
ROFL! That's a great line!!!
"And it went downhill from there."
Great stuff as always!
Girl, you need to write a book.
A pitbull on crack? So was there foaming at the mouth involved? *grin* You know I luffles you...
And you know what else....you get to come pick me up tomorrow!! Yay!
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