Somebody Got Bitched Out At Work Today
August 2nd, 2005It was me.
And boy, let me tell you, that ten minutes of verbal ass whipping, man I enjoyed it.
It’s four hours later and I still can’t sit straight… and that would probably be okay if I had a bony butt. But I don’t. I may have bitty Betty and Wilmas, but I tell you what, I’ve got massive junk in the trunk. We’re talking bootylicious butt cheeks. I’m not ashamed, I’ve been called h-lo a time or two…
But I digress.
Yes, dear hannihouse readers, you may be wondering, “Why, pray tell, did darling Princess Hänni, great blog genius, master of all things wacky, tacky, and crappy get a big old tongue lashing from the likes of A Very Hip Software Company Big Guns?”
The answer my friends, is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowin’ in the wind.
But really it had to do with this:
a) Suspected misuse of IM. (Guilty, as Manuel and Mr. Lover Can attest.)
b) Unnecessary e-mailing. (Not guilty. I think it is entirely acceptable to e-mail a freekatie.net link to the entire staff list, being sure to include a rant about why I love Dawson’s Creek and why I hate Tom Cruise for ruining Dawson’s Creek darling, Katie Holmes.)
c) Taking too many effing breaks. (Again, not guilty. I’m sorry, but smoking-ass Rex from product dev spends way more time on the balcony than I do. He’s outside puffing away on his Virginia Slims like 10 times a day, no joke! I admit, I did have to take many multiple “breaks” last Friday. But I had Taco Bell for lunch. And accordingly, my breaks were taken in the bathroom… and involved explosive diarrhea.)
On a happier note, it seems Sphynxy has decided to stop shaving for a while. My little gray cat has moved on to filching new and more exciting lady’s toiletries. This morning I found him flipping around a tampon with wild, carefree abandon. I wanted to take it away, but I thought, “Hey it’s got a tail. That’s just at ten cent mouse with disposable applicator.”
——–
I know you can’t wait. And I know the anticipation is driving some of you to drink… and vomit… and roll in said vomit… But patience is a virtue kids. I know it’s excruciating, but I just want you to think, WWRD… What Would Rivers Do? Rivers Cuomo, lead singer of fab band Weezer, has been celibate for two years. If a f*ing rock star can go two years without tapping some sweet groupie ass, well, I’m sure you, dear hannihaus readers, can follow suit. No, I’m not saying you have to be chaste in your relations. Please, make sweet monkey love with wild abandon! All I’m asking for is a chance here folks… stick with me. The surprise is that good.
Hanni at Hannihaus dot com
hanniluvsu
hannibehr
August 2nd, 2005
What is this, Other People’s Money? I guess that must be what you do when you’re not putting the art in flowchart.
August 2nd, 2005
Not Other People’s Money. I’m at A Very Hip Software Company now. And I don’t just put art in the flowcharts anymore. I’ve graduated to writing water and pec transfer procedures, dontcha know?
August 3rd, 2005
Wow, your writing is quite entertaining! I found hannibehr was still in my Buddy List, so the usual right click — get info — brought me to your blog…
August 3rd, 2005
Hey jo jo,
I’m a flickr addict, so i’m glad to see you posted pictures for me to voyeuristically peruse. Megan is no longer blonde. My little girl is growing up so fast!
August 4th, 2005
I smoked that joint today. Despite what you said about being wary of putting underpants-contaminated items in my mouth, I did it.
Fueled by liquid courage in the form of a sippy-cup filled with Cuervo Gold and rage I attribute to your impertinence, secrecy and seeming disregard for my mental and physical heath, I settled into my hammock and toked through the twilight hours–my first time “gettin’ high.”
Currently stoned out of my mind, I have been weighing the pros and cons of my adventures, or more appropriately my MISadventures, of the day.
Waking this afternoon, after marinating overnight in my own juices and wearing an ill-fitting pink “Cheer” shirt, I realized that you, devil woman, left me secretless once again. (con)
I drank my breakfast and lunch in one sitting, spilling much of it down the front of my shirt and onto my wife’s new off-white velvet-type couch that drained my bank account of several thousand dollars. This couch now sports several off-off-white stains. (con)
I managed to get a fair amount on the carpet as well. In an attempt to “use my head” and keep from being castrated upon her return from her parents house in Idaho, I thought I was a real genius by thoroughly spraying the area with Fantastic. It works in the kitchen and bathroom, so why not the living room, right?
WRONG.
After vigorously scrubbing at the carpet with a toilet brush for several minutes I was initially pleased to see the old booze stain lifting. Dancing joyfully around the room to Britney Spears’ “Toxic” my glee soon turned to disbelief, fear, and ultimately unbridled anger when I realized that this particular cleaning solvent contained bleach, which had turned the heavily scoured (RED) carpet area into a rapidly lightening yellowish brown color. Thus, the sippy-cup filled to capacity with more of Mexico’s best. (con)
Short of finding your place of business and smacking you senseless, I opted for mind-altering drugs. I have never so much as smoked a cigarette before, due to my strict LDS upbringing so I admit I was apprehensive.
My house already smelled like a distillery so I went outside to the trusty hammock, freshly Febreezed after the “drowning-in-my-own-vomit” incident.
Drunk as ever, I am not entirely sure how I lit my moustache on fire but I knew I didn’t like it. Apparently I fell off the porch to “stop, drop, and roll” in the yard, right into–you guessed it–a still warm pile of solid waste from my Great Dane, Bootsy. Then I passed out. (con)
Some time must have passed before I woke up, dazed and blistered on the right side of my face, because it was dusk at this point. I can still smell the singe of flesh and facial hair even at this late hour.
Worse than the fact that I *may* have third degree burns on my face is that it’s going to take at least 2 months before I can participate in the local Civil War Reenactment group. I am fairly upset about this, as I recently perfected my bloated corpse imitation and will not be able to perform in mock battle for some time. (con)
As the sun set, I was able to properly light my new friend Mary Jane. The initial bout of uncontrollable coughing and a small mishap involving me throwing up a little bit subsided as I slipped away from reality into a blissful world of rainbows and shooting stars.
Tomorrow will be a day of unknowns. Do you reveal your secret or do you violate my wishes and force me to refill my wife’s hope chest with liquor and try to score some bud from the prostitutes downtown?
My face hurts, my buzz is receding, I’m REALLY hungry, and I have a sippy-cup cocktail of whatever was left in the bottles of booze I collected strewn around the house chilling in the icebox.
MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE.
August 4th, 2005
Whew! Guess I’d remain anonymous too if all that shit happened to me.
August 4th, 2005
Drunken Mormon Friend O’ The House, can I just say I love you?