Today is Weird

Today is fucking weird. At this very moment, there is a young man dressed as a generic biblical character standing outside my apartment building waving and shaking his staff at the traffic driving by. No, that's not a euphemism for something dirty, but I like how you think. Should I feel bad that I don't know the correct terminology for his biblical garb? He's got some kind of head cloth with a braided fabric headband type thingy and a white shorty robe that's about thisclose to showing his biblical junk every time a stiff breeze kicks up. Oh, and a belt and a wooden staff. Maybe he's supposed to be one of the wisemen? I really don't know, but it's fucking weird.

I would assume he was just another rando homeless dude, but seriously, we only have 2 homeless dudes in my 'hood and they're both present and accounted for. We have headphones wearing Tourette's guy (whom I love). Call me biased, but one day after getting my hair cut last summer, he actually stopped his random beat boxing to call out to me, "Your hair looks nice, miss." Love. That. Guy. Shit, my own mother didn't notice my damned haircut. That dude is always getting my spare change. Then we have the homeless dude who always tips his imaginary cap to me and wishes me a pleasant morning/afternoon/evening. I love that guy, too.

Oh, reason number two I know he's not a rando homeless guy: he's very well groomed and wearing brand new neoprene Teva sandals. Tevas? Really? Is that what Jesus would do? I think not, my friend. I'm pretty sure that even the son of God decided they were ugly and too cliche to wear in Seattle anymore.

Anyway, in conclusion, next time get a sign or something to let people know what the fuck you're trying to tell them with your erratic behavior. Remember: crazy homeless people are funny. Stupid college students conducting sociological experiments in front of my goddamned apartment are just tools. Love, me.

In other news, I finally got my got-damned corporate card today so I can stop trying to avoid being asked to pick stuff up for the office and just "expensing it" because although I get that the company will pay me back, does the company get that I don't have the cash to front them for their supplies and stamps and microwave and coffeepot? Does it? Does it?

So, first order of biz was to head to Costco to pick up all kinds of shizz to make the office livable and functional for people (read: me) who need to bring their sad little leftover lunches to work because they can't afford to go out for every meal. I loaded up my cart with all kinds of swag. Microwave, cups, plates, napkins, coffee, creamer, you name it. Well, guess what I found out when I was at the register after all my stuff had been rung up and put in boxes for me to take back to the office? Oh, my corporate card is a Mastercard. Costco doesn't take Mastercard. They only take debit cards or American Express. I'm sure everyone else in the entire world knew this but me, but seriously people: I live alone. How often do you think I shop at Costco? How many fifteen gallon buckets of canned tomatoes does one girl need? And the one time that I shopped there in the last year I paid with my debit card, so I wasn't made aware of their discriminatory credit card acceptance policy. What about us po' folk who don't have a gajillion dollars in their bank account so they can't buy ten thousand rolls of toilet paper, fifty pounds of Italian seasonings and a two-pack of flat screen TVs with their DEBIT card????

I understand that Costco has the more, more, more consumer-driven American society by the balls and they can do whatever they damned well please. Still, that is fucking ridiculous. American Express? Are you fucking kidding me? Nobody takes that shit, but that's the only card you take? Sweet. Why don't you just ram your industrial strength, economy sized, wholesale priced, gigantic 25-pack of fists up my ass, Costco? Do you realize that I have used my personal Mastercard such various and sundry locations as: the super sketchy Teriyaki shop/mini mart/payday loan/pawn shop in South Central near my old office, Taco Time, Pike Place Market produce stands, and a jewlery-making street vendor who was selling her wares at the farmer's market on Kauai. Kauai -- where 70% (or something, don't email me!) of the land is uninhabitable. Yet Costco: one of the largest and most well-known companies in this god forsaken country can't be bothered to accept major credit cards (I know Amex is considered "major," but seriously: who are they kidding)?

So, thank you Costco, for that enormously humiliating experience of having to stand there while the cashier announced that all of the stuff I'd just attempted to purchase would have to be returned to the shelves, because I didn't have a way to pay for it. Rad. Today is weird.

Ooh girl, you da bomb!

Ok, so we've all got one. The coworker who is really genuinely nice and friendly and in all other ways awesome to work with and a pleasure to be around except for one thing...She tries to slip into her misguided middle-aged idea of "street" slang every time she sees our receptionist, who just so happens to be, you guessed it: black and the situation is embarrassing for all involved. Well, maybe not for me since I just sit in my office and laugh and laugh about it, but it's almost embarrassing to listen to. Almost.

Every morning when said coworker arrives, let's call her Turtle, she throws out an exceedingly loud, "Hey, girlfrieeeeeend!" to our receptionist. Just so you can recreate it for yourself, just pretend the "girlfriend" is from that one line in the oh so awesome song "Things That Make You Go Hmmm." While I'm on the topic, good Lord that song always annoyed me. And now it's stuck in my head. Fantastic. If the receptionist has changed her hair or is wearing a cute outfit, Turtle will undoubtedly reward us all with a, "You go, girl!" She even snaps her fingers a la Antoine Merriweather sometimes. "You go, girl"???????? Dude, even Ricki Lake stopped saying that shit in 1997. Time to move on to a new token "black" phrase. Hand to God, I once heard her tell Recep she needed to "ax" her something. I had to disguise my insanely loud laughter with a faux coughing fit to rival any sufferer of whooping cough.

Now, if this were the way that Turtle talked to everyone, cool. I'd totally still make fun of her for sounding like X-tina when she thought she was all hard and shit about 5 years ago (as a side note, I think Christina Aguilera fucking rocks and I love how she totally has her shit together now and has stopped wearing assless chaps to the grocery store and seems really happily married). But alas, Turtle talks like your typical middle-aged, extremely white bread suburban mom to everyone else. Everyone except for Receptionist. You know, 'cause Turtle is down. She knows black people.

I guess all I'm saying here is that I understand Turtle's attempts to relate to Receptionist. I actually like how personable Turtle is and I'm sure this is just her way of trying to be on Recep's level. Unfortunately she is getting all of her terminology from old reruns of Martin or something. And that's whack.