Why Everyone Needs a Blog

Coworker: "Speaking of food, we have to take a break from Rojo. Remember how we got lunch from there on Wednesday? I think I had a bad batch of chicken burrito. After you left the office, I got deathly ill. I felt *horrible* but I was on second call, so I couldn't leave. I sat in my office hunched over a trash can the rest of the day. I finally gave in at about 4:30. I went into the command center, told them I had to go home, and I left. Well, about halfway home, I realize I have to go to the bathroom. I mean *go* to the bathroom. But I think I can make it to the apartment. So, I am swiping my card at the gate, and I lose it. Needless to say, I didn't make it to the bathroom. And that's just the beginning. I get out of the car, completely covered in crap. It's all over my pants, my shoes, everything. Luckily, I'm in scrubs. I get into the apartment, get cleaned up and just decide to throw everything away. I'm too lazy to deal with it, plus it's disgusting. So, I throw my clothes, shoes, everything in a garbage bag, walk out to the dumpster, and throw it out. I get back to the apartment, lay down...and immediately realize that my wallet was in my pants pocket. And that my pants pocket is in the giant apartment complex dumpster. I am angry and sick and now I have to go dumpster diving. So, I walk out of the apartment and head toward the dumpster, and who stops me but that guy who's always outside working on his car. I see that guy all the time, never talks to me. Of course the day that I shit myself and throw my wallet in the dumpster, he wants to share his life story. Sam, I'm serious, he talked to me for 30 minutes. I know everything about him. I finally tell him that I have to go dumpster diving, and HE WANTS TO HELP ME. I didn't really feel like sharing my saga with a total stranger, so I just told him I accidentally threw away my wallet. But I'm having to convince him not to hop in the dumpster with me because I would be totally mortified if this guy climbs in and sees what I'm looking for. I finally talked him out of it."
Me: "Did you actually jump into our dumpster? It's like a 5 foot drop from the platform onto God knows what."
Coworker: "Well, I figured the worst thing I could land on would be a bag of human excrement, and since that's what I was looking for anyway, it would be fine. I found it pretty quickly. Then I had to jump up, grab the rim of the dumpster and claw my way out of there. It was pretty much the worst day of my life."
Me: "You really need a blog."

Letters

It's been a while and I don't really have much going on, so I thought I'd catch up on my correspondence. Here we go.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Dear USAA,
I am planning a cross-country move to a state with regulations out the wazoo. I called you to check on how my car insurance will be affected. You transferred me to the nicest person on the planet, who seemed to be more excited about my move than I was. Does she get a cut of my premiums or something? Because she can have some. She was awesome. I got a quote, I got my insurance changed over effective the date of my move, I got the forms I'll need to register my car, and I even got my renter's insurance switched over. I will not have to make any calls when I get there. Done. And that is fabulous.

According to your website, you've been "Ranked #1 in Customer Service." I think this is the first time I've read something like that and actually believed it. If your office was not in Texas, I would bake you cookies. Such is my love.

Seriously. Love.
Samantha
---------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Apartment,
I know we've had our ups and downs, and today is no different. Only a month ago I was dreading the loss of you. Your spacious floorplan, your double sinks, your walk-in-for-days closet, and God bless you your 1.5 baths. But then I found new apartment. And I fell in love with it. Not just love. Loooooove. Because it is beautiful. And because hopefully at my new apartment I will not come home to notes stuck in my doorjamb reading:

Dear Resident:

A crime has been perpetrated in our complex. It is our understanding that those responsible have not been identified or apprehended. If you see a crime being committed, please call the police. And then please call our complex office and leave a message. You are responsible for your own safety, and local law enforcement is responsible for aiding in that safety.

Thank you,

Your crappy new management team

First of all, thank you for letting me know that something has happened. It is comforting to know that a mystery crime has been perpetrated and that we have no idea who did it. Phew. What a load off my mind. Seriously, WTF? Was somebody murdered (again)?? Was someone robbed at gunpoint? Is someone having oral sex? (Illegal in Alabama.) Is someone placing squirrels down their pants for the purpose of gambling?? I NEED DETAILS! I leave this complex at all hours of the night. If there's a friendly neighborhood carjacker waiting for me at the gate, I might like to know. Also, is it just me, or does it sound like we're being accused of the crime? I feel as though the letter is less "be safe" and more "admit what you've done, you thugs."

Regardless, you are not making me happy right now. Also, the water constantly being broken is starting to get on my nerves. The whole "they're fixing a leak right now, you're water will be back in two hours" excuse is wearing thin. Pipes shouldn't pop new leaks every two weeks. Also, 2 hours is 120 minutes. Not 3 days. If the pipes have disintegrated, it might be time for new ones. Just a suggestion. Although perhaps you might first catch the squirrel pants gambler. Gotta have priorities.

Sincerely,

Sam

-------------------------------------------------------------

Dear New Girls at Work,

Thank God we hired you. You're both nurses, you're both intelligent, and you both have made me laugh so much my face hurts. I'm so glad we've finally found some people that may actually be able to do this job without killing anyone or giving the other coordinators ulcers. Already you've picked up more than the last idiot we hired who's been with us six months. You're already asking for your nicknames since we've given everyone in the office unfortunate alter egos. You're hoping you don't end up with a name like the last girl, unfortunately nicknamed "The Big Hurt" because that's what it feels like when you have to work with her all night. Or talk to her for any length of time whatsoever.

Also, a special thank you to the new girl who has already passed out in the OR. Way to pull the heat off of me. At least I was under the influence of chemicals. You just passed slam out on the floor for no reason. Also, way to recover and suck it up. You stuck it out even though you probably suffered a concussion and two days later your ankle still isn't looking that hot. I will say that you are lucky in that the surgeons didn't notice your floor dive. Waking up to your friend the other trainee coordinator and a nurse or two beats the pants off of waking up to a roomful of surgeons. Now we can tease you about your glucose tablets and suing us for workman's comp. It's good times.

Finally, when I leave I get to pawn off my horrible office duty on someone. I promise not to do that to either of you. I like you way too much for that. Although I will use it as a bargaining chip every day until I leave to get you to do my bidding. Eventually you will know me better though and realize the only option I ever even considered. Of course I'm giving this crap to The Big Hurt.

Thanks for being awesome,

Sam

Home Sweet Home

Big news people: I am homeless no longer. Well, not that I was homeless. I was kind of hypothetically homeless in the future sense because finding housing in the Boston area is freaking ridiculous. It's not helped by the fact that I was apartment hunting from 2000 miles away and my on-site evaluator could only go see places during non-work hours. Everytime we would find something nice, I'd make contact with the realtor, and the next time we'd contact them to either confirm the viewing appointment or ask for the address or whatever, they'd say "Umm..yeah..I rented that out an hour ago." People swoop in like vultures. Bastards.

So, yesterday when I got home I did my usual 426th visit to Craigslist for the day. Lo and behold, a *gorgeous* house was listed on the same street as the last house that we loved and was brutally taken from us. So, I called the number on the listing. The owner of the house said that she had not been feeling well that day and so had arranged showings with everyone that called about the property (5 separate people since it had been listed at 10 that morning) for the next day. However, she was feeling better and if I could come see it early in the evening, she'd be happy to show it. I sent Tom over there with a mission. If the place is nice, get it. Get it right then and there because there are 5 people waiting to get it tomorrow.

Well 5 mystery people, I have one word for you: SUCKAS!!!

In 45 days I will live in that house. In not Alabama. A 3 minute drive from my boyfriend's house. I have swooped. And it's awesome.