Welcome Summer

On my way home from work, I broke the monotony by eavesdropping on a couple on the subway:

Girl: "My panties are SO wet"
Boy: "That's hot"
Girl: "Not really, my ass cheeks are just sweating a whole lot"

I almost asked her to be my friend.

Goofus knows that Gallants art sucks... so he pisses on it

My favorite day of the month at work is when we get the new Highlights Magazine, mainly because I OWN SO HARD at all the games. I am honestly waiting for the world championships to get started on the Hidden Pictures so I can become an instant thousandaire. The one thing that really pisses me off is when I turn to the pages where children send in "poems" and crappy art work.

I was so offended last month by a kid from WV, that I couldn't sit by and do nothing.

First, when have you seen a deer that was 4 shades of crayon vomit.

Second, I find one deer using the other deers antlers as "handlebars" while they engage in whatever it is they are doing to be a bit remnant of college costume parties where I wore pigtails something this kid is much to young for.

Third, judging by the antlers on both animals, I find it interesting that this 5 year old used 2 male deer to pose in this manner.

So I did what any concerned adult that was worried about the future of our species would do, I emailed Highlights Magazine to tell them of my concern.

From: Subliminally Incognito
Sent: Tuesday, June 1, 2010
To: eds@highlightscorp.com
Subject: Devil Children

Dear Highlights,
I fear that you are encouraging kids to suck and this makes me sad. I am requesting that you start highlighting (ha ha did you see what I did there) only talented children in the "Your Own Pages" section of your magazine. I hate to think that these kids are getting a false sense of self esteem when you "Publish" their work as if they have made a true piece of art. I would be willing to bet if you went back in your archives you have art work that was published from a young Gary Busey only furthering my point that you are setting up loser children to think they are capable of more than cleaning toilets.

Cheers,

Subliminally Incognito

I never got a reply, but I think they heard me based on this months issue. They have now started publishing pictures of talentless children being executed by firing squad.

My job here is done.

Grab my WHAT and double click?!?!?

My job includes working with people with disabilities to help them learn a higher, more independent, level of functioning. This can mean anything from helping them go to work, helping them not punch each other interact appropriately with others, how to shower daily, how to cook without burning the house down or even teaching them to keep it in their pants them why masturbating is a "when you are by yourself" kind of thing and not a "I am bored in the middle of group" kind of thing.

Last week I was talking to an Autistic client who expressed interest in going to the Pride Parade. I check in with him this morning....

Me: Did you go to Pride?
Him: I WAS SO DISAPPOINTED!!!!
Me: What happened?
Him: I was told there would be naked people and there were no naked people, there were partially naked people but I wanted to see fully naked people. Why was I told there would be naked people and then there were no naked people? I WAS SO DISAPPOINTED!

Something tells me as I plan out his treatment, I need to consider getting him some computer training, because anyone that is waiting once a year to see naked people is in dire need of learning how to use the Internet.

First Grade: A Tale of Love, Lust and Girl Crushes

In honor of the 41st anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, I have decided to come clean about my very first girl crush. To this day it is the proverbial chicken/egg question. I am not sure if my first girl crush influenced my "type" as an adult or if I already had a "type" that she fit nicely into at age 5. You decide:

I have always had a thing for people that were too smart for their own good. I tend to gravitate toward the computer geeks of the world. Penny Gadget was one of those girls. Not only did she like books, but her book was actually a laptop!!!! She was able to solve all types of problems by hitting 3 buttons in her book and suddenly her uncle was out of danger. She was even smooth enough to let him take the credit. She also had great style. She sported pigtails, messenger bag, ripped up pants, and a calculator watch.

So now looking back at all the guys I have dated, I can see a piece of Penny in all of them, whether it is their functional watch, dirty ripped jeans, retarded care givers or a dog cool enough to call Brain.

As far as the chicken and the egg, I am going to move forward thinking that Penny is the model for the perfect human being. I only hope she did not grow up to be a fatass living her uncles basement playing Dungeons and Dragons all day and night.

Depression hurts...... so your knives shouldn't.

I have worked with drug addicts, schizophrenics, and the homeless. None of these populations are known for their healthy lifestyle. If the dental hygiene of my clients is indicative of how they care for themselves, then I would like to use my client with one snaggle tooth that occasionally emerges from her mouth with food wrapped around it. I do not mean to say that only one of her teeth is Snaggly, but that she only has one tooth and it happens to be snaggly. She is a regular Baby Herman, if Herman was a a grown, hairy, schizophrenic woman. I have often prided myself on the fact that my immune system is superior to at least 75% of the population due to the intense training I have put it through. Last week it failed me. Somewhere toward the middle of the week I brought home a tad case of the sad. I guess Matt got worried that if it continued on then I might try to OD and use up all the Hydrocodones he would have to do his own laundry, so he got me a present that came in the mail today.

Which leads to my confusion.......
I am not sure if the most sensitive gift to get someone that hates life, is a shiny set of Shun knives. I guess if I am going to take myself out, he figures I should do it with some pretty awesome precision knives that are so sharp I won't even feel it. If this is not love, I don't know what is.

*I approve the govenment to steal this idea*

Last night during a covert operation, in which my army men were duct taped to my Roomba and waged war against Matt's feet, I realized that the government should try to Duct Tape the oil pipeline closed. Everyone knows if you can't Duct it, F*ck it.

Who needs heroin, anti-depressants, and speedballs?!?!

I have a NEW FRIEND. I should start with some back ground story. 5 1/2 years ago I lost a great friend. I have copied the obituary below.

R.I.P.
Friend, confidant, and all around great tiara
You brought happiness to many.
October 31, 2003- Jan. 1, 2005

How Tiara was abandoned when I was trying to figure out where I was, what the guys name was and how to get home the morning of New Year's Day is not as important as talking about the joy he brought me. Tiara made me feel pretty during times of non-prettiness. I would call on Tiara whenever I had to do something less than favorable (i.e. vacuuming, drinking tequila, doing dishes, having sex with French men in red bikinis or cleaning the bathroom), or if I was feeling down it was good to have on Tiara when I walked by a mirror so I could laugh at how stupid I was and I would feel better.

I thought I had fully mourned this loss but I was wrong. Last night I went to a birthday party and stopped to find the perfect gift for the birthday girl. Of course, this meant I headed straight to CVS. As I walked in, I noticed a beam of light in the back of the store. Curious as to what is so important at CVS that it needs a spot light, I made my way to the back of the store to find my old friend. Since I was in a hurry, I mentally noted that I needed to return tomorrow to get myself one and skipped out of the store with the best birthday present of all time.

It was a pretty typical night: met people, drank a lot, caught two people in our party having sex in the bathroom *which I mention for pure fact of the evening because I am in no position to makes judgments on this*, convinced some guy that Iowa doesn't exist, and past out on the train, missing my stop on the way home. But while all the fun was going on I could not stop wondering how severe it would be if I kicked over the birthday girl and took the tiara back.

This morning I woke up smelling of broken dreams and bad decisions. Something had to be done, so I went back to CVS and when I got there I realized I that I had actually given away the last tiara that they had. As I was laying on the ground in fetal position and crying while muttering about how I should have beat up the birthday girl and stolen my gift back, an employee came over and I told her I would die if I didn't get a tiara. She went to the back and looked for me and came back empty handed. She told me to come back Wednesday because "the truck come on Tuesday night". My first thought was "HOLY JESUS.... THEY HAVE A TIARA TRUCK", and my second thought was to ask the lady if she knew where the Tiara Truck delivered on Saturday's. She must have been new because she just looked confused.

I decided I could not give up so I went to the second fanciest store I know. As I went down the escalator at K*Mart, I had a good feeling. I walked around the aisle and there it was, MY NEW TIARA!!!!!!!

Welcome to my life!!!
I promise you will never be the victim of a one night stand.
P.S. I love you.

Loser is a four letter word

I got home from work today and realized I am embarrassed. This has not happened in years since I was born with very little shame and "embarrassment" is generally a foreign feeling. I took my computer to work to give my story on "Crazy Crippy" and when it was over, a coworker took my computer and started looking at my desktop files, which are mainly photos. I didn't care much since I had recently removed all midget porn from the desktop, so I let him explore. After I got home, I realize that there is a picture labeled "Dad".

******Back Story*******

I had a friend in another life time that would feed my need to play stupid games and had no problem following me when I left reality.

Me: "Wow look, everyone on the interstate has a ladder. There must be a midget convention going on."
Her: "let's stop and get a Creative Loafing and find out where. We can probably get a $10 midget."

We lived in a crap town at the time that only had a Wal*Mart and 2 bars (one for when you were in the mood to get beat by a pool stick and one for when you were in the mood to watch redneck women with 4 kids dance half naked on the bar). We had a game we would play called "There's your dad". There was a man that we would see anywhere we went. No matter where we were he would show up. He was our real life Waldo, if Waldo was a very round 5'5" man that looked like a bowling ball in the Jewish mafia. The game consisted of who ever saw him first to call it by announcing it very loudly "There's your dad".

So now I sit here realizing that after over 10 years I am the ultimate loser of "That's your dad" because now my co-worker thinks that half my genetic make-up comes from this man.

If I have to work at home... this is what they get

Not sure why I thought it would be a great idea to drink an entirea bottle of wine AND THEN put together a PowerPoint on Disability Etiquette to present tomorrow. I might have some slides in here that could be considered inappropriate. I am going to lead with this:...and it is possible instead of taking the time to type out informative slides on how to talk nice to disabled people People Living with Disabilities I might have actually written a story called "Crazy Crippy, the Retarded Midget gets a Brain Injury and wakes up a Gimp".

Bathrooms aplenty in NYC!!!

This was not my favorite work week of all time. I will spare you the details of 3 angry schizophrenics, one that wanted to follow me around the building while walking 1 inch form my back, and one telling me what a "Thick Girl" she thought I was. Like most good stories it is only the ending that really matters and puts things in perspective.

So I find myself sitting at work at 6:30 on Friday night due to a renegade client that decided to freak out and run away instead of hanging around to be hospitalized. I stop getting paid at 4:30 (arguably, for the amount I make, if calculated fairly, I stop getting paid at 11:00, which is why I generally sit in my office and surf the Internet and clean my belly button from 11 - 4:30) so I normally choose to go home by 4:30. The client was eventually found, not in the traditional way, with the 2 cop cars involved helping us and actually doing their job, but because our nurse went to her house and found her drinking Kool-Aid and having solo dance parties. So finally at 6:30 I leave work with my co-worker, who we will call AvidDay to protect his identity.

So we get almost home and we are standing in the dirty train station waiting for the train having normal conversation: "so if I jumped down there could I lay under the train as it comes or do I need to lose weight" and "would you rather be a sadist or a masochist?" We are one train from home and it seems like the world is starting to align again and the horrible week is finally washing away. UNTIL..... the train comes and we get in. AvidDay sits down and I look at the ground. I take off away from him and he looks at the ground and gets up and comes to where I am and says "that's not chicken". AvidDay was referring to the pile of human corn filled turd on the ground in front of his feet that he initially assumed was fried chicken that someone dropped. AvidDay looks at me and say "What the hell, YOU ARE A MAGNET FOR THIS SHIT!" and he is right....

***side story****I have reported 3 instances where I have gotten on the train right after someone has "lost control". It has been horrible every time. AvidDay has lived n NY for 20+ years and has never seen this, which leads to him think I am telling tall tales every time. ***side story over****

I decide that I am SO done with this week that I will get off the train and walk the rest of the way home. Right before the doors open I decide that there are too many tourists on the train to not take advantage of this. I pull out my phone and walk over to the pile of turd and snap a picture. The tourists were completely horrified and now I will forever be in the story they tell their grand kids about the time they were on the subway and some crazy person took a picture of the pile of crap. Here is the picture, just in case I am ever accused of telling tall tales again.
The sign in the train technically says "no radios, no spitting". Looks like it is time to set some new rules.

Moral of the story... I had a shitty week.

Howie Mandel is my office pet

There is a mystery file cabinet in my office that I refuse to open. It has been next to my desk for year and a half and I have never opened it. It would be natural to assume that it is filled with stuff from the previous owner of this office, however, I do not buy that for a minute. I am convinced that if I open it I will be sucked into monster world where I will not be able to stop myself from asking Howie Mandel...er... Maurice, as he is called by his friends, how he managed his germphobia when he lived with a bunch of monsters and technically I am a mental health worker and and asking mental health questions would fall into the category of "work" and I try not to do that when I am at work.

A Few of My Least Favorite Things

There are some truly horrible things about life that can not be avoided. Some examples are Go-Gurt, Cereal straws, wedgies, Macaulay Culkin, wet socks, bugs crawling in your ear, the fact that the ninjas in the dark don't ever respond to my questions at night, not being able to own a midget, best friends named "Booby the Spaniard", the fact that the princess in Mario Brothers has Stockholm Syndrome and keeps going back to Bowser, Taco Bell serving fish, having one sweaty armpit, working across the hall from someone whose sole diet is corn and milk, being kidnapped and having a picture of you wearing a Muumuu splashed on news channels all over the country, playing the "what's for dinner" game, walking through the cloud of piss smell every morning in the subway, and Carnie Wilson constantly showing up everywhere you go.

All of these things make life almost unbearable, but none of them are as bad as having to walk down a NYC street in the rain. It is not the cars splashing puddles on you that sucks so bad or trying to carry everything while using an umbrella or the getting soaking wet or having to walk over mounds of wet trash..... it is the fact that New Yorkers are not responsible umbrella users. It doesn't help that I am a foot taller than all New Yorkers (seriously, why is everyone so short here), but having to share the sidewalk with 8 million other umbrellas and having the corners of all 8 million of them aim straight for your face in am attempt to impale your eye while they are dumping rivers of water on you sucks. It's hard to say if I would rather eat Go-Gurt but I would definitly take Carnie Wilson stalking me over commuting in the rain any day.

Friends tell friends when they noticeably crap their pants at work

...too bad we are just co-workers.

I wish my lawn was emo so it would cut itself.

I am spending my Sunday sitting on the couch and watching a Vampire Diaries marathon. This may sound pathetic to most but I have made the decision not to have children mainly so I can spend Sunday's like this for the rest of my life, and as far as my baseline for pathetic goes, watching teenybopper shows on Sunday soars high above baseline. In fact, I could do my makeup like Baby Jane and watch teenybopper shows from my living room fort while wearing a prom dress and eating popcorn and drinking 2 bottles of wine by myself and still be well above my accepted baseline for pathetic. But that is not my point.... While I am enjoying my time with this show, I am having to put up with this whiny emo soundtrack. I truly hope one day when the CW decides my life would make a better show, I will not have to sell out and use this crap music to narrate my life. I would hope the executives at the CW would honor my wishes and only use music from the Smurfs All Star Show and Disco Duck and, of course Jem so the viewers always remember how truly truly outrageous I am.

What do you mean you don't keep panties in the pantry?

So I was thinking about starting a revolution today, but then I remembered how I tend to vomit when I turn around too fast. So now I am on to brainstorming other things to do today. I was thinking about making confetti out of Fruit Roll ups (or edible panties, cause when it comes down to it, I can not tell the difference). But alas, looking in the cabinet all I see is are gold fish crackers, and those are for biting their heads off, not making confetti.

Looks like there will be no revolution or confetti today, just a sea life massacre. (just call me BP) Why does my life have to be so hard?

Holey Productive Day, Batman!!!

I have not had a Sunday this productive in a long time. I showered, ate AND saved 3 galaxies, ALL BEFORE NOON!!! Of course, I am getting hungry again and the princess is still trapped in Bowser's Castle, so I still have plenty of work left for this afternoon. My boss says that she works harder at home than she does at work, using today as my example, I would have to agree with her.

Here are some other ideas next time I am feeling productive on Sunday Mornings:

1. Bedazzling all of Matt's suits before he wakes up
2. Making yeti outfits of all of his suits before he wakes up
3. Flowbee'ing Matt's hair until he woke up.
4. Printing labels for EVERYTHING on is desk, so he is sure know where everything
5. Water torture with by slowly squeezing ShamWOW (those things hold a ton of water)

Looks like I need to go shopping.

RULES: *Brought to you by THE MAN

It is not a secret that I kinda sorta like my job a little bit. Here are a list of policies that get in my way of actually LOVING my job.

1. You are prohibited to have Margarita lunch hours (even if it is Margarita Monday)
2. You must complete all paperwork on time and neatly (and writing F' You on all papers is not considered complete no matter how neat it is)
3. You must work 8 hours a day (in a row)
4. You must wake up before the sun to get here on time
5. You must be here 5 days a week (even though there aer only 7 days in the whole week)
6. You must be nice to people (this includes having to hold the elevator door for people)
7. You must talk to clients and listen to them (even if all they want to do is whine)
8. You are responsible for decorating your own office. (If I could do that I would be an interior decorator, instead I now work in cold white cell with nothing on the walls)
9. You will be fired for doing keg stands in your office
10. You can not put a couch and TV in your office
11. You can have a computer, but we will be blocking any website worth going too.
12. Any activity involving spreading oil in the hallway is strictly prohibited.
13. You can not steal a clients motorized wheelchair for joy riding (Even if you do have to walk 2 WHOLE BLOCKS for lunch.)
14. You must wear the most uncomfortable clothing to work (even though you get spit on by clients all day)
15. Your lunch break is not 7.5 hours long
16. We will not tolerate making pot brownies for the staff.
17. You may NOT, under any circumstances, use a taser on clients or other staff.
18. Crossword puzzles are not a productive use of time.
19. You will not require staff to stop in every hour to tell you how pretty you are.

If only my job cared about my happiness, maybe I would like being here more.

1,2,3,M+,4,M-,.234326457657856

You would think by by age 31 I would be able to accidently press "M+" or Mrc" buttons on a calculator without freaking out, pressing all the buttons, crying, losing my entire calculation and having to start over. Why is it that I went through 20 years of school (private school at that) and not one responsible teacher pulled me aside to teach me what these useless buttons on the calculator are for? I will tell you why.... They are like Iowa!!! We were taught that they exist but in the reality of grown-upedness they really don't.

From now on, I will include the belief in Iowa and the ability to use the 3 useless buttons on my calculator as a diagnostic criteria for delusional thought.

How low can I go.... you don't even want to know

So I just got back from walking 217 steps to the liquor store....Why does my life have to be so hard? I mean, I get that you should have to work for your alcoholism, but 217 STEPS!!!! And now that my only friend I have my bottle of wine (we will call him Fred) I thought I was ready to curl up on the couch and watch really awesome tv. So naturally I searched Netflix for Little House on the Prairie. (which I need to point out is the stupidest word ever. Prairie should be embarrassed!) Just to make my life even harder than it already was, Little House on the Crappy Word is not on "watch instant." I might have reached a new low for even doing a search for Little House, and then a further low by being totally bummed I can not watch it right now, but I will never go as low as wait for Little House in the mail. I guess I will never know if

***possible Spoiler Alert***

Ma and Pa Ingles put Nelly in charge of the Sex Den in Season 9.

If I owned a midget, he would live in a pear tree

I am home alone for a week and this means one thing. I need to get this place clean so there is room for me to build the Fort To End All Forts. The only problem is I feel cleaning is for suckers. Just another good reason to own a midget. So this leaves me sitting on the couch talking to myself , wearing yesterdays clothes (because showering on Sunday is also for suckers), thinking about how I should go to the gym while picking the chex out of the chex mix and wondering why there is no ice cream in the freezer. Some may look at this pathetic display laid back display and ask, "what is wrong with her?" After some serious thought, I am pretty sure I know where my life took a turn. It was when Breaking Bonaduce got canceled. I would like to talk about the massive negative impact this had on society as a whole, but we have to remember that this is all about me. I was never given the chance to have closure with Danny being snatched out of my life so suddenly.

So with this new sense enlightenment, I think I will spend my day looking for a midget to clean this place up so I can build my fort which I will do as a shrine to Danny Bonaduce.