Jun 262015

As I’m writing this week’s bullet (AHHHHHHHHH) rodeo, I realized that almost everything is work-related and then that made me sad because when did I stop having a life outside of work, wahhhh. (Considering that last night alone I was invited to two happy hours, both of which I politely declined, I guess you could say that this is no one’s fault but my own, or whatever it is you would say in these situations. What would your grandma say?)

  • Gayle was heating up bacon in the office kitchen the other day and I nearly drowned on my own saliva. I’m sure I’ve said this 87 times on here, but bacon is my fucking weakness. It’s like putting a bowl of blood in front of a dieting vampire. BE STRONG, ERIN RACHELLE. Think of PETA!
  • I found a picture I took of my grilled cheese, probably at either Frank & Shirley’s or Georgie’s Diner, back in ’96/’97. I guess I have always enjoyed photographing food, you guys, so let’s stop blaming Instagram. And considering that there is a .38 Special cassette on the table, I was probably with Lisa:

  • When I got to work today, it sounded like someone behind me was trying to discreetly eat glass. I later learned that it was Todd eating non-shelled peanuts. That made me feel better and less worried about stumbling upon someone’s bleeding mouth.
  • Me, just now: “I miss Barb.” Glenn: “You talk to her everyday.” Me: “Yeah, but I miss her BEING HERE.” It’s not really getting any better here, you guys. The newlady doesn’t even mess up the daily Roll Call emails. I MISS THE MESSED-UP ROLL CALL EMAILS!
    • I cut my hair and no one even noticed because Barb isn’t here to tell everyone. I AM PRACTICALLY INVISIBLE NOW!
  • When I was on my lunch break the other day, I was sitting on a bench thing in some courtyard place when some man in a dirty white t-shirt and CAMOUFLAGE PLANTS approached me WITH HIS HAND IN HIS POCKET and he asked me WHERE THE POST OFFICE IS. I went into survival mode and by that I mean I clenched my thighs together to keep the fear-induced pee drops from leaking out. I did not know the answer to his question and feared that this would anger him, but luckily the woman sitting next to me pointed him in the right direction, which happened to be in the building directly across from us, so as he walked away, I took that as my cue to leave because I was so sure he was about to go postal, literally. As I walked away, I noticed him, standing just inside the revolving doors, shooting up the place swiveling his head around in search of where to go next to shoot up the place.
    • I was practically pushing people out of my way on my run back to work. I didn’t hear anything about a post office tragedy later, so maybe he forgot to bring his bullets. (AHHHHHH.)
  • Hey speaking of shooting up the place, last Friday, since I was working late shift and had some time to kill in the morning, I decided to walk to the CVS up the street from my house so that I could finally get new candy for my empty candy urn and get A-ron off my back about it. Chooch wanted to go too and Henry’s mom Judy imparted some ominous warning upon us about the road being blocked. We were like, “OK Judy whatever you say Judy sure Judy” and started walking. Right away, I noticed that a tree-cutting truck was blocking part of the sidewalk a block away. “Oh no, how will we ever get to CVS” I said sarcastically to Chooch, as we crossed the street for an unobstructed path. A police car sped past and I did the fist-shake at him because THERE ARE KIDS AROUND, ASSHOLE! But then as we approached the slight crest in the road, I noticed that beyond the tree cutting truck were more police cars, some of them parked horizontally, blocking traffic. “YOU CAN’T COME OVER HERE!” an angry city cop barked from the other side of the street. He was standing there, talking to some broad, as others milled about and stared at one of the houses. I immediately became huffy because I hate being told what to do — ESPECIALLY BY AUTHORITY. So, in my best Spoiled White Girl tone, I yelled back, “JESUS CHRIST. WELL, CAN WE CROSS OVER AND GO THAT WAY THEN!?” and I pointed across the street to where he was standing. He nodded and made a rushed “come on” motion with his hand. So Chooch and I crossed the street and as soon as we turned left on the sidewalk, Angry Cop bellowed, “MA’AM I SAID YOU CAN’T COME THIS WAY!” I lost my fucking shit and screamed, “NO, ACTUALLY YOU DIDN’T!” and I then spun around dramatically and started marching away. “OMG mommy,” Chooch mumbled, scared that I was going to be the next senseless victim of an overzealous cop. Another (calmer) cop strode past us, having just arrived at the scene. “We just don’t want you to get hurt,” Good Cop said in an attempt to massage my Rage Muscles. “I’M JUST TRYING TO GO TO CVS TO BUY MOTHERFUCKING CANDY!” I cried in the hysterical tone I tend to adopt when my plans deviate even a little. I was actually shaking at this point, but Chooch and I continued on our way to CVS, having to take a huge detours through side streets.
    • When we came home, I angrily shouted a play-by-play of the events to Judy. When I finished, she waited a beat and then asked, “Why can’t your co-workers buy their own candy?”
      • I have to do SOMETHINGto be less invisible, OK Judy!? Even if it means using candy to make people visit my desk.
        • Did A-ron honestly just stroll over here and start talking shit on my caramel apple Werthers? YES, YES HE DID.
    • Turns out it was the SWAT team, responding to a call about a suicide attempt. “Way to walk into a SWAT situation,” Amber Returning-To-Work-Next-Wednesday texted me later that day.
      • It’s just like me to make someone else’s suicide attempt ALL ABOUT MYSELF.
      • I guess Bad Cop really was just trying to make sure we didn’t get hurt—by an errant bullet. (AHHHHHH!!)
    • In hindsight, I’m kind of embarrassed. Marginally.
  • Ted NUDE-gent is dying and I don’t know what to do! (Except for whining to Henry about it every day and making him add more pebbles to the bottom of Ted’snudey mugand also drilling more drainage holes into it because if I re-pot him all together thenhewon’t be TED NUDE-GENT ANYMORE WILL HE!?
    • On Monday, Gayle asked me if I bought any more plants over the weekend and I cried, “NO BECAUSE TED NUDE-GENT IS DYING” and she was like, “Oh, alright.”
    • I just learned that the human Ted Nugent has his own line of bullets. (AHHHHHHH!)
  • One of our co-workers is visiting from Australia and brought a bunch of Cadbury Vegemite bars. I had Vegemite once when I was in Canberra 15 years ago, and I can still vividly recall the sewage flavor; my tongue recoils just at the memory alone. Sandy, knowing it was going to taste like shit, was the first to try a piece. “It tastes like chocolate-covered garbage,” was her official review. Just walking by where the opened package was sitting, Vegemite and caramel oozing together in a pool of sticky smut, the odor alone fisted my gag reflex. Nopenope nope. As an experiment, I took two small pieces home for Henry and Chooch, not telling them anything other than, “Here. Chocolate.”
    • Henry: “What? This tastes like regular chocolate. WHY? WHAT DID YOU DO TO IT!?” #garbagepalate
    • Chooch: *Spit it out into the sink after .005 seconds* That’s my boy!
  • WARPED TOUR!! ELEVEN DAYS!! “I just thought about Warped Tour and I got roller coaster stomach,” I said all dreamily to Glenn the other day and he responded with his knee-jerk mumble of “ohmygod.” Chooch is really stoked for it this year too, more so than he has been in the past, and he even made a list of bands he wants to see which made my heart melt:

  • On Wednesday, I was chomping at the bit for Amber1 to get here, but she was working late shift that day. “I want to talk to her about Pretty Little Liars! I don’t have anyone to talk to about it!” I cried to Glenn. “There’s a reason for that,” he muttered.
  • Glenn and I started to have a normal conversation the other day about old TV shows. Turns out, we both used to enjoy the Robert Urich-fronted television masterpiece known as Vega$. But then I told him about the time in high school when FX was having a marathon and I decided to have an open-to-the-public viewing party (unbeknownst to my parents, neither of whom were home that day), for which I hung balloons and signs advertising said party at the end of my street. “No one came, though!” I told Glenn sadly. “Wow. So basically, you’ve always been strange,” he muttered. Way to ruin a nice conversation!
  • Pretty sure I know which merch booth Chooch is going to rush to at Warped Tour:


  • Speaking of Amber1, I was in the kitchen yesterday just in time to overhear a conversation she was having with my nemesis in the travel department about the cars that they drive. “Do you have a ‘Twins’ decal on the back of your car?” Travel Lady asked Amber, who said yes, and it turns out that Amber apparently flipped her off on the road the other day and Travel Lady was calling her out on it, IN FRONT OF THE DIRECTOR OF OUR DEPARTMENT who just happened to also be in the kitchen. OMG it was hilarious (for everyone but Amber)! Amber’s face was so red and she kept apologizing, but Travel Lady was just laughing about it. I don’t thin she really cared about it at all, but Amber was humiliated and felt terrible. After Travel Lady walked away, Amber said to me, “Well, she pulled out in front of me and then drove really slow! And she was on her phone!” Hey, that seems like a valid reason to me to give the middle finger some exercise. Amber continued to stress over this for the rest of the afternoon and then Todd and I tried to get her to send Travel Lady an Edible Arrangement. The general consensus was that she should have just said it must have been her twin.
  • So, Alex Lyman from Slaves (a/k/a Jonny Craig’s Band of Douchebags) was allegedly stabbed for “wearing skinny jeans”. Am I just as much of a douchebag as the rest of them for reading this “news” and immediately wondering what exactly he did to provoke this, if he even was stabbed at all? That guy is just such scum. And I’m tired of Alternative Press being the equivalent of TMZ anymore. Like OMG did Ronnie Radke rape someone? How about stop even giving that piece of shit publicity. God, there is so much good music out there but you’d never know it if you relied solely on Alt Press, and it breaks my heart to even write those words because that magazine used to be a monthly Bible for me. Not no mo’.
  • Here is one of my favorite places downtown to walk:

  • Please stop calling blueberries “bluebs.” They’re offended. And you sound like an asshole.
    • Just kidding. I don’t give a fuuuuuuck what you call those blueturds.
  • One of my favorite things that happened at work this week was that we had a project to work on and I was the only one who did it all perfectly! Everyone hated me that day. Some even more than usual.
    • I was rewarded by having to fix all the wrongly-done ones.
    • But I got to spend all day reminding Glenn that I’m perfect, so….it all balances out.
  • Last Saturday, I discovered that I have a pretty powerful right hook, which I discovered when I jokingly went to punch Henry, but over-swung and jabbed myself in the jaw with my phone. It still hurts. :(
  • Chooch heard Mazzy Star for the first time last weekend and became inexplicably repulsed.
  • Allison just came over to see if any of us had been outside recently because she wants to know what the weather is like, so I made Glenn look on his weather thing, and this lead to him advising us that one of the escaped convicts in New York was apprehended and shot dead — WITH BULLETS. (AHHHHHH!)
    • I did not know that there were any escaped convicts until just now because I deleted my CNN app after determining that it was making my life more depressing. So now I pretty much don’t know anything that’s going on unless I accidentally see it smashed in between cat memes and Magic Bullet (AHHHHHHHH) recipes on Facebook.

I don’t think I have anything else to say. Maybe, instead of politely declining, I’ll finally attend one of the tea parties my imaginary friends are always inviting me to and then I can pretend this is Yelp and write a review of whatever steampunk tea factory we wind up at. If you promise to come back, I’ll save you an absinthe scone. You might have to pick out the watch gears and antique bullets (AHHHHHH) though.

  7 Responses to “Today’s Secret Word Is: Bullet. (AHHHHHHH.)”

  1. The path through the convention center is cool, but I like it more when the lights are red and it takes on a horror movie/river of blood type vibe. I guess I am weird that way.

  2. 1. Falling In Reverse is such a joke.
    2. Only you would walk into a SWAT sitch on your way to get candy!
    3. Your kid likes some good bands.
    4. I love your bullet (ahhh!) point posts so much.

  3. Chooch’s band list is pretty great. I would totally go to Warped Tour with him.

    Sorry about Ted Nude-gent. Hopefully he pulls through. I repotted my three plants; I’ll have to send you a picture. I found a snail shell to put in there but it needs googly eyes.

  4. I went into survival mode and by that I mean I clenched my thighs together to keep the fear-induced pee drops from leaking out.

    Oh god, that is traumatic. WHY YOU?!

    “I just learned that the human Ted Nugent has his own line of bullets.”

    BUT DOES HENRY KNOW THIS?! Do people in The Service get a special senior discount?


    I love this because instead of understanding that the candy is inherently repulsive, he automatically assumes you “did something” to it. Like, what? What could you possibly have done to the candy at work? Please inquire about this.

  5. I hate it when strangers approach me on the street downtown. I should be used to it since it happens on every fucking corner. I’m sad to hear that Ted Nude-gent is dying. How is he now? Since I’m so slow at reading your blog and can’t keep up.

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