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2006-11-02 - 9:32 p.m.

Paging Irene Cara

Someone keeps searching for the term "fucking a horse at the farm" and clicks on my web site.

Now, just because I write "fuck" a lot, work at a farm, with horses, who fuck, doesn't mean I endorse people fucking horses. In fact, quite the opposite. [Whoever you are, you are creeping me out. Seek professional help. And if you've been doing what I think you've been doing, may your spleen get punctured and pushed into your ribcage, or your face bashed in with one swift kick. Or both. Thanks for visiting!]

So anyhoo, work's been busy lately. Lots of little projects, phone's been ringing off the hook, but I still manage to squeeze a bit of goofiness into each day. Sometimes I make up little songs about my co-workers ("La la la! You are typing mucho grande! Wha-CHOO workin' on?"), or I'll wrap up a wee box full of biscuits for the new guy's puppy, complete with tiny typed To and From labels, and put it in "their" inbox. And most days, before I head to lunch, I salute two of my co-workers and say something like "I am off. I'm heading into the big world. Hold down the fort. And don't get into any trouble."

Whenever I have to sign for a delivery, I make a big excited "OH!" face and say "I hope it's for me. And I hope it's chocolate."

Every once in awhile, I do a jig or tap dance in the lobby. Or I'll put a box or bag on my head and walk over to someone's desk. "Hey, how's it goin'?"

Of course, I do this when the management is out or otherwise engaged. Which is why I still have a job.

The other day my fave co-worker said "You need a creative outlet."

I pranced over to the window by her desk, peered out, looked back over my shoulder and replied "Oh, but I do."

Then I very carefully KEPT MY TRAP SHUT. Not that she inquired, but I was on the verge of blurting out my online writing habit.

Oops! That was close. She's the one who doesn't "get" blogging. In some ways, I wish she KNEW I did something other than watch TV at night; on the other hand, she might think me more pathetic.

(Is that even possible?)

The other day, as usual, she was taking forever to go to lunch (she often puts it off until she finishes something, then gets tangled up in something else and winds up going after 2 pm or skipping lunch altogether). She had mentioned she was in the mood for Long John Silver's, was SORT OF getting ready to leave, when she got snagged on a phone call with a chatty client. I took a Sharpie and a piece of paper out of my recycling bin, and scribbled a quite awful-looking LJS pirate hat that said "AHOY! OFF TO LUNCH YOU GO!" to stick under her nose.

As I rounded the corner to her desk, she hung up the phone. "Oh...I was about to hand you a reminder note."

She looked at it, snicked politely and said "Ohhh-kayyy."

"I can't draw pirate hats for shit."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Well, get to lunch before it's too late."

"I'm going right now. Right after I do this one thing..."

I sighed, turned to go back to my desk, then pivoted and asked if she remembered the days when all the Long John Silver's had walkways to make it look like you were boarding a docked ship.

"Oh, yeah. I remember that! With the ropes and the posts."

"Yes! It was the neato-ist. Hey, what did you do with my pirate hat note? Did you toss it out?"

"Ummm, YEP."

"You're gonna regret that when I'm famous."

"Riiiight. I'm sure I will."

[She will, you know]

I might only be appreciated by a small but wonderful population of people (and a tiny percentage of creepy horse fuckers) NOW, but just wait.

There are A LOT of people into beastiality out there.

(Those last two sentences should bring 'em in like maggots to dead flesh).

I'm scared.

But one step closer to fame.

Listening to:

"I Shouldn't Have Fucked That Horse" by The Intensive Care Trio (featuring The Feeding Tubes)

"Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood

"Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall