My day in a series of letters.

Dear Crazy Office Lesbian,

I have no problem with your lesbianism. Actually, I wholeheartedly support it. If only for the awesome drama. I'm sure there aren't many people who have had this scene screamed across the middle of the office:

Lesbian: "Why's that guy bringing you flowers?"
Hesitant Lesbian: "None of your business."
L: "I sent you flowers, why is this guy sending you flowers at the office? That's inappropriate!"
HL: "Don't you tell me what's fuckin' appropriate. It's none of your g-damn business who sends me flowers."
L: "Don't say that word!!"
HL: "What word?"
L: "You know, the f-word."
HL: "You have a fuckin' problem with me saying the fuckin' f-word? WELL THEN I WON'T SAY THE FUCKIN' F-WORD IN FRONT OF YOU YOU FUCKIN' BITCH!!!"

And it continued. And it was hilarious. And neither of you were fired. So your lesbianism, and in fact, even your interoffice lesbianism, is a non-issue.

What is an issue is you being a jerk. I walked in 5 minutes late today. I was on 2nd call. Which means that there is a person ahead of me who is actually responsible for things, and it is my job to back her up. So when I walk in 5 minutes late and you get in my face and say "FINALLY!" It makes me want to punch you. Because:
1. You have no idea how to do my job.
2. It's actually 1st call's job, and
3. I hate you.
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Dear Co-worker Who Had Nothing Better to Do But Share With Me Intimate Details of Others Bathroom Habits,

Sweet baby Jesus I wish you hadn't spoken to me this morning. Honestly. I now know that I can't drink coffee in the office anymore because the chick that makes it is averse to hand hygiene. I also found out about a lady at work that doesn't flush toilet paper. Seriously. She doesn't want to clog up the septic tank. (HUH??!? Country Mouse! It's on a sewer line!) So she instead takes used toilet paper, wraps it in more toilet paper, and throws it in the bathroom trashcan. If I was housekeeping, I would kick her ass.

But here's the real question. How/why do you know this stuff?? Do you just sit in the bathroom and take notes?? Really. I could have gone my entire life without knowing any of this, and I'm pretty sure that my life would have been richer and fuller as a result. Instead, I threw up in my mouth at 9 AM. And that's no way to start the day.
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Dear Chick Who's Supposed to Answer the Phones and Talk to Nurses,

What is wrong with you? Seriously. Do you have some sort of immunosuppressant disease? There's no way that you have functioning white blood cells with the number of sick days you take. At least two a week. And you don't have kids. Hell, you don't even have real knees! Where else do you need to be?!? Do you have any idea how much my day sucks when you're not there?!? Apparently nurses don't blog, because they're certainly not using writing as an outlet for their pent-up rage! They'd rather give me their 'tude. And I had to sit there and take it. All day long.

And yes, I know I should have had plenty of help. Sure, hypothetically the first call person would be bearing the brunt of the assault. But do you have any idea who I was on first call with??!? I'm pretty sure you can guess.
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Dear First-Call Person,

As Homer Simpson would say, you are the suckingest suck that ever sucked. I have been on call with you 3 days this week, and each has sucked more than the last. You get to work at least 15 minutes late every day. When you arrive, rather than walking straight into the main center and helping me answer phones, you prefer to go straight to the kitchen, pour a cup of coffee (haha, I know something you don't know), then go sit in your office for a while. I believe today you didn't come in to help with the phones til about 11 AM. Sure, I'd like to be sitting in my office, doing nothing, chatting with my friends, playing pictionary online, but you see, I'm on call. And because of that, I feel responsible for doing my frikkin' job. And so I sit. All bloody day. Waiting for you to come in and do YOUR job. Because you suck.

Also, everytime you try to talk to me as if I were your friend, I contemplate hanging myself with the phone cord. Just thought you should know.
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Dear Boss,

I like you a lot. I think you're a great boss. You're a lot of fun, you're very supportive of everyone on your staff, and you're a goofball. You've asked me to feel your pecs every day for the past two weeks, and you're an overweight Malaysian dude. I think it's a scream. Really. And I completely support your decision to let everyone leave work early today. Everyone was in a crappy mood even though it was a Friday. Clearly, we needed a morale boost.

That being said, I needed a morale boost. And letting everyone but myself and the 1st call person that I hate leave 3 hours early, is not good for my morale. So now not only was I answering all the calls for the chick that called in sick for the 80th time this month, I was answering all the calls that came into the place, period. For 3 hours.

Honestly, I still support your decision, because I think it was really nice. But I was jealous. And sad. And I spent a lot of the afternoon looking at the phone cord. Just thought you should know.
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Dear New Management of My Apartment Complex,

I'm happy that you purchased this place. After three people were shot here last month, my confidence in the management's ability to control this place had started to wane. And I think things are going to change for the better. You've already sent out a memo to everyone regarding the schoolchildren that stand in the street in the mornings taunting natural selection. And I commend that. Mainly because I think scraping a kid off the hood of my truck would increase my insurance premiums. And you guys have promised good things, lots of changes, new facilities, I can totally get behind it. But let me tell you guys something. As much as you can't fix stupid, you can't fix geography.

This complex is located on the border of a bad part of town (Irondale) and the most affluent and snooty part of town (Mountain Brook.) And the complex is actually located in Irondale. Or, as some call it, the ghetto. The former name of the complex was "Sharpsburg Manor." Which was already pretty fancy-pants for what it is. Namely, apartments that were probably build in the 70's or 80's. Certainly not the stuff of "manors" but whatever. So today when I pulled in, I noticed our new name. "The Enclave at Mountain Brook." Huh?!? WTF? The Enclave? Honestly, I've heard the word a million times, but I dont really know what it means. And when I think of the context in which I've heard it used, I'm pretty sure it was always where cults lived, or terrorists were hiding, or vampires slept. I've certainly never lived in one.

And another thing. You can say Mountain Brook all you want, but unless you're wearing ruby slippers, you're not going to get there just by saying it. This is not Mountain Brook. Accept your fate. Police patrol the complex since the shooting. Guess what it says on their cars? Irondale, baby. Actually it says "Irondale, baby. Oooh, yeah." But the point is, it's not Mountain Brook cops down here keeping us safe from our fellow residents. So how about a little pride in your community? Sure, the criminals are from Irondale. But so are the police officers.
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So now I'm home. And after writing this long, pointless post, I feel better. So I'm going to take a bubble bath and think about a massage (since that's as close to affording one as I'll ever get) and then lie on the couch and wait for my pager to go off. Laters!