Guys! Did you know that Glenn is having a baby?

Well, his wife is, anyway. So we had a baby shower for him today at work!

There was a group card for everyone to sign, but….

come on. I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to ridicule Glenn in front of the department once again.

So I made my own card.

It’s just too easy sometimes.

And then Glenn had to pose for pictures and pass around my card for further humiliation. In other words: IT WAS A GOOD DAY.

Man, I was making some new RIP Glenns today at work when I realized it’s been awhile since I did a nice, big, satisfying RIP Glenn dump up in here. So, here’s all the dead celebs I’ve used to deface Glenn since…April? I think April. I’m really tired.

This was supposed to be H.R. Giger’s famous work from the movie Alien. “Supposed to be.” My apologies for desecrating your work, Mister Giger.

I legit cried over this one! And then a week later, “The Brady Girls Get Married” was on TV and I cried all over again.

I looooooved The Young Ones (bought the whole series on VHS from Columbia House in the 90s!), but opted to go for Rik Mahall’s portrayal of Drop Dead Fred instead because that’s more recognizable. Otherwise, it would be like trying to explain my Sidney Crosby/Sid Vicious shirt all over again.

That’s supposed to be a raisin in the sun. Get it? Because Ruby Dee was in the movie “Raisin in the Sun”? I know, these get worse and worse. And then worser and worser.

FUNNY STORY: When Casey Kasem died, I mused out loud, “I don’t know if I want to turn a Glenn into Shaggy, or have a ball dropping behind him.” Henry was like, “WTF are you talking about? What ball?” and I was like, “THE NEW YEAR’S EVE TIMES SQUARE BALL, IDIOT.” And Henry was like, “THAT’S DICK CLARK NOT CASEY KASEM.” And I totally knew that too, but somehow I combined them into one person and thank god Henry corrected me or else everyone at work (I mean, everyone who gives a fuck about the RIP Glenns, anyway) would have ridiculed me for some time. Especially BARB. That would have been sweet, delicious payback for her after all the times I’ve called her out for being WRONG.

Really sad about this one too! I loved Designing Women when I was a kid.

FUNNY STORY: I needed some Wite Out for this one and when I went to open it, the brush was stuck and I yanked it entirely too hard and wound up with Wite Out on my face, in my hair, on my keyboard, on my computer screen and worst of all, on my black shirt. :( I forget who, but someone at work was like, “Who uses Wite Out anymore, anyway!?” because everyone loves those correction tape strip things. I was like, “ARTISTS WHO ARE TRAPPED IN OFFICES, OK?!” Seriously, that shit is the closest thing to white paint I have at my desk. I have made many a Glenn with it.

James Garner was also in  the Rockford Files and Henry and I had a big fight about that once when we were in Rockford, IL and I was like, “Is this where the Rockford Files was supposed to take place?” and Henry was like, “No, it was called the Rockford Files because that was the guy’s last name” and I was mad because I wanted to be right so we fought about it. Which, you know, typical. Henry wanted me to make a Rockford Files Glenn but I was like “FUCK YOU! MAVERICK GLENN FTW.”

I forgot that Johnny Winter died mid-July but I was reminded of that on Friday when I was at Dave’s Music Mine with Terri and Christian (whose visit I still have to write about but I am so lazy this week!). Glenn was like “Who is that?” and I said “SHUT UP, GLENN.” But then I told him, because I love schooling people.

“I was going to email you about that one,” Glenn mumbled disinterestedly as he walked by my desk and saw me furiously working on the Marilyn Burns masterpiece. I think he was secretly excited about it, so I used that as my chance to ask him which RIP Glenn is his favorite.

“Oh gee, there are just so many to choose from. I don’t think I can pick a favorite,” he said in his patented monotone, BUT I think I detected just the tiniest spark of glee.

The directors of our department chartered a Just Ducky boat for our group last week, so a bunch of us signed up to go on a boat tour of Pittsburgh after work. We were allowed to bring our kids, so I stupidly said that I would be bringing Chooch, and then remembered that he was going to be on a boat with a bunch of my co-workers and that could potentially not be that great.

To double my doubts, Henry completely set him off before bringing him downtown to meet me, by opening Chooch’s report card and pretending it said he had to repeat second grade (literally every person I told this to believed it, so now I’m wondering how dumb they think my child really is). Obviously this was a joke, because Chooch once again got straight As (sorry, but I don’t count that B he gets in handwriting every time because HANDWRITING IS NOT A SUBJECT). But Chooch fell for it and started crying really hard, apparently.

So by the time Henry brought him downtown to meet me, Chooch was totally acting bipolar and saying stupid shit like “Me five days old” to my freaking BOSS after I was like, “HERE IS A LIST OF PEOPLE TO JUST NOT TALK TO, OK? JUST DON’T TALK TO THEM AT ALL.” Because sometimes I’d rather certain people think I have a mute son than a jerk.

And then BARB had to go and ask him about his report card, which made him start SOBBING and then people were like, “LET’S GET A GROUP PHOTO OF ALL OF THE CHILDREN!” right smack in the middle of Chooch crying and I was like, “PLEASE JUST STOP CRYING AND GO GET YOUR FUCKING PICTURE TAKEN DON’T EMBARRASS ME OMG.”

In hindsight, he was honestly just acting like a tired, cranky kid and everyone was like, “Don’t be stupid, he was fine” but I guess I’m just used to Chooch the Adult, which is what I get from him at home. So anytime he acts like a typical brat-kid, I get weirded out and feel like an awful parent.

Finally, the stupid boat came and picked us up and Chooch managed to not say anything offensive during the whole trip, probably because he was too busy pouting.

Henry didn’t go on the tour because I didn’t ask him if he wanted to, HA.

SAD BABY.

One of the directors of our department was sitting in front of us and she kept playfully trying to take Chooch’s picture, which apparently is now a thing that he hates and of course it’s all my fault, so he started crying again but luckily she didn’t notice.

So this is one of those tours that starts out on land and then plows right into the river and it’s actually pretty scary. One of the boat people told Chooch to keep his foot over a hole on the floor to keep the water from coming in and because we’re both idiots, we believed it. Finally, I was like, “Wait, I don’t think you have to keep your foot there, really.”

Here’s when I pleaded with him to act like Normal Folk with me and allow me to take a picture of ourselves having “supposed” fun on a boat.

We learned stuff but mostly it was just an hour’s worth of really dumb jokes. Like, “LOOK THERE’S A PITTSBURGH CROCODILE!” which really annoyed Chooch.

“It’s just a STICK,” he muttered in disgust.

There are over 400 bridges in Pittsburgh, apparently. That sounds familiar, like someone might have tried to teach me that before but like all information about this city, my body rejected it. Or if we were told something that I actually HAD remembered, I would scoff and say that I had already learned that on the haunted walk I did in May with Wendy, Evonne and Jeannie.

As soon as the boat tour came to an end, Chooch’s mouth started up again and I was bursting blood vessels in my head brain in an effort to psychically beat him.  And then on the trolley ride home, Chooch made sure EVERYONE knew about what a horrible prank Henry played on him with the report card and WHAT KIND OF FATHER SAYS THAT TO HIS SON?!

I wanted to die.

Meanwhile, Henry was excited to tell me that while he was sitting on a wall waiting for us (exactly what I figured he would be doing, by the way), he saw three people that we saw at the Circa Survive show earlier that week, and that while he was eating dinner at Five Guys in Market Square, some girl came in and she was wearing an Emarosa shirt. COOL STORY, HENRY-BRO.

Anyway, Chooch ate a burger once we got home and then immediately crashed. Hunger and exhaustion: what a lethal mix.

I think the moral of this story is to not let my kid tag along to any upcoming work functions.

The Easter Glenn Hunt might be over, but the need for new Glenns will never run out thanks to celebrities dying all the time.  But I guess that’s life, right? PEOPLE DIE AND IT SUCKS. Especially these national treasures:

This is how I inadvertently discovered that like 75% of the department had never heard of Devo. Them: “I don’t know who this is.”

Me: “He was in Devo. That’s why I wrote Devo on his shirt.”

Them: “What is a Devo?”

BUT WE ALL KNOW KATY PERRY. FML.

This broad from Green Acres. Barb was REALLY UPSET about this one. So upset that I feared she was going to start coming into work wearing overalls of remembrance.

This was one of the saddest ones I had to make. :(

Last of the singing von Trapp siblings. I went with a generalized Sound of Music Glenn to represent the whole goddamn clan.

I have said the Gwar frontman’s name a million times but really struggled to spell it.

UGH. :(:(:( TERRIBLE.

You may have noticed that there is no Fred Phelps Glenn, and that is because that guy doesn’t deserve to be memorialized, not even as a Glenn. And I haven’t gotten around to Mickey Rooney because I can’t figure out how to make that one recognizable. SOS.

Me: Basically, every muscle in my legs hurt…wait, are shins muscles?
Henry, sighing: No, those are bones.
Me: OK, well those hurt too.

The results for Week One are in and my team is ranked #9 in the whole firm (and our firm is fucking ginormous and international, you guys) with a total of 321,448 points. My individual total for the week was 157,181 so….you’re welcome Team Adverse to Sitting. It also helps that I don’t have A MEANDERING CAREY on my team this time!

I’m really in a groove though! I’ve been doing cardio every morning and every night after work, with a shit-ton of walking in between. At first it was really excruciating, but now I’m like GIVE ME MORE. Until I wake up in the morning and have to roll myself out of bed because my body is so wrecked. My body was so sore on Monday that the stop-motion way I had to walk Chooch to school that morning made me look Claymation. Maybe Gumby will ask me to prom.

I am trying so hard to not be a competitive douchebag knee-breaker in the style of Tonya Harding, but….you’re going down, No More Pat.

I was able to knock out a few more Biblical/Easter Glenns before my eggs were cast aside for more commercial ones. Kind of like a plastic egg version of vinyl vs. mp3: only the cool kids liked my eggs.

BUT I’M NOT MAD BRO.

Here we have: David Glenn & Goliath Glenn, Vatican Glenn, Swiss Guard Glenn, Friar Glenn.

Fire & Brimstone Glenn, Tenebrae Glenn, Hatching Spring Glenn, Glenn Falls For the 2nd Time.

Jeannie finally opened her egg while Nate played dramatic Game of Thrones music, even though for some reason I felt something from the Wicker Man would be better but I can’t explain why. Nate’s epic music suited the situation just fine though.

Anyway, Jeannie got Saint Lucy in her egg and was like “I don’t know who this is” which reinforces my claim that this was a FUN, LIGHT-HEARTED & EDUCATIONAL way to fuck off work.

Happy fucking Easter.

This is what my desk has looked like all week, thanks to Easter Glenn Hunt 2014. If you weren’t around on these blog-parts last Easter, this is basically when I turn Glenn’s employee ID photo into an array of Biblical characters and usually one or two that are tableau-esque. (Last year it was a department-themed Noah’s Ark and the Last Supper.) Then I stuff one into an egg with candy and hide it somewhere around the office and pray that whoever finds it won’t run to HR. I like to live on the edge.

I was way more prepared this year though, and even ordered a box of Jesus-y goodness from Oriental Trading, like Christian-themed jelly beans (the red ones symbolize God’s shed blood, y’all), candy bracelets with candy crosses, Jesus stickers and Biblical finger puppets. Oh, what good wholesome fun.

Fun fact about yours truly: I was once super into religion. I was born and raised Roman Catholic and went to church every Saturday night like clockwork, and then went to Sunday School/CCD every Sunday morning. Do you want to know something sickening about me? I FUCKING LOVED SUNDAY SCHOOL. Oh shit, I loved learning about Bible things! Not because I was some holy roller, but because I considered it history. It was interesting and entertaining to me. And when we started getting tested on this shit in fifth grade and everyone groaned, I did a clandestine fist-pump under my desk because I was finally going to get all those A’s I deserved!

(I did, too. I aced every test because I was hot for Bible.)

And then in college, I took a few religion classes and considered minoring in that bullshit until I decided just to stop going to college altogether, which is what I do. Quit. I quit everything. WHY TRY WHEN YOU CAN JUST QUIT? That’s my imaginary bumper sticker.

So making these Glenns has been a huge refresher course for me! They make me so giddy and full of glee, and of course almost no one here knows WTF they’re supposed to be, but that’s OK. They’re still special to me.

l. to r. Stigmata Glenn, Judas Glenn, Manna From Heaven Glenn, Stoked for Passover Glenn.

l. to r. Ash Wednesday 4 Lyfe Glenn, Veronica’s Veil Glenn, Hot Cross Bun Vendor Glenn, Saint Glenn

I half-assedly hid an egg in Jeannie’s office on Monday and she must not have noticed it because she came back from lunch and just let it sit there. I waited for her to leave her office again and I rolled the egg so that it was in the middle of the floor, in plain sight. She came back to her office AND KICKED THE EGG TO THE SIDE. Totally disregarded it! I was like, “OMG WHY DON’T YOU CARE ABOUT THE EGG?!”

“I’m just waiting for you to be even more obvious about it,” she said in her patented grumpy demeanor.

She still hasn’t opened it and I’m dying to know which Glenn she got.

l. to r. Easter Bunny Snack Glenn, Saint Francis Glenn, Saint Lucy Glenn.

FINGER PUPPETS!

I noticed there was a theme on Facebook over the weekend, where parents bitched about their kids not getting any eggs at Easter egg hunts because other parents let their children be savages. THE SAME THING HAPPENED HERE, YOU GUYS. Co-workers would be like, “SO-AND-SO GOT THREE EGGS SO FAR AND I HAVEN’T FOUND EVEN ONE!” OMG. So then I had to deliberately plant eggs in places meant for only certain people to find them. For example, I put one on the floor of Wendy’s office and she was so upset the next day when she found out there was an egg in her office but someone else got to it first.

Oh, you know who it was? Mr. “I DGAF About These Eggs” himself, GLENN.

“What? It’s fair game,” he rationalized with a shrug and then sauntered away with the smugness.

Shepherd Glenn and his Processor Sheep (Todd, Chris, Mean Amber 2, Gayle, Amber1, Lauren)

l. to r. Water to Wine Glenn, Lion’s Den Glenn, Archangel Michael Glenn, Lot’s Wife Glenn 

l. to. r.: Good SamariGlenn, Obnoxious Bible Quoter Glenn, Glenn on a Grilled Cheese, Sacrificial Lamb Glenn

l. to r.: Sacred Heart Glenn, Saint Patrick Glenn, Palm Sunday Glenn, Billy Graham Glenn. 

I was really starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel after awhile, but luckily I have a connection with a Theology major. (Thanks again, Monica!!)

While I was making some of these over the weekend, Chooch was like, “WTF is that?” about one of them and I was trying to explain it, and then it occurred to me to ask him if he even knew the story behind Easter AND HE DID NOT which I guess was silly of me  to assume that his pathetic Catholic school would have taught him that. So I started asking him other religious-y questions and he just kept shrugging. And that is how I spent twenty minutes out of my Sunday night watching an animated cartoon about Moses on YouTube.

Chooch seemed pretty intrigued by the whole story, and at the end he asked, “So, what? God is like, a hacker?”

OMG. Needless to say, we will be watching more Bible shit this weekend.

But anyway, the moral to this is that Glenns are educational! Get stoked for Bible study!

I’m working 11:00am-6:30pm today instead of my usual 1:30pm-9:00pm (ugh, that shift) because Henry and I are going to see Gary Numan tonight at the Altar Bar and I am practically scratching my skin off in anticipation. I’ve been at work for about 30 minutes and have had about 17 variations of this conversation because my co-workers get freaked out when they see me in the AM:

Them: WHY ARE YOU HERE.

Me: Because I’m leaving at 6:30 today.

Them: WHY.

Me: Because Henry and I are going to see Gary Numan.

Them: WHO.

Me: Sigh. The guy who sang that 80s song “Cars.”

Some of them: OH THAT GUY.

Others: WHO.

But it’s pretty major that for once, most people here actually know who I’m going to see! Unless they’re just doing the smile and nod thing.

Anyway, the Gary Numan I like most is the stuff that came later, and the Exile album is my favorite of all time, so if he plays at least one song from that, I will be 100% content and might even put my head on Henry’s shoulder, who really does not want to go tonight and I almost ended up buying just one ticket, but then a song from Gary Numan’s new album was on an episode of Pretty Little Liars a few weeks ago and suddenly Henry was all in.

In other work news, I took a few minutes away from writing this blog post to visit my office-neighbor Patrick and fawn over a picture of him and his girlfriend, when suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nate wheel up to the door of Patrick’s office-thing and I jumped back because I thought he was in a wheelchair, but it was only just a wheeled chair.

I was all at once frightened and excited, and Nate said he wouldn’t be adverse to me pushing him around the office.

This is really turning out to be quite an excellent day.

I haven’t posted any RIP Glenns since last October, so here is some somber Saturday filler for all of you Glenn enthusiasts out there.

(And if you’re like WTF is a RIP Glenn, please see here.)

Enjoy…?

When Debbie S. suggested a few weeks ago that we organize a department Secret Santa, my vote was of the FUCK YES variety. I love surprising people almost as much as I love pranking them! And then I proceeded to do nothing while she did 100% of the planning and organizing. Debbie set a budget of $10 for the gift exchange, plus 5 days of $1 gift-giving during the week leading up to the big reveal/office holiday party. We somehow managed to get a good 15 or so people to sign up and I was excited because some of the people were co-workers that I don’t get to interact with very much, so I would have been happy no matter who I picked because I think it would have been fun to get someone random and then ALWAYS HAVE THAT CREEPY SANTA BOND with them.

Kind of like Stockholm Syndrome?
No?

The day of the name-drawing, I was walking past Sue’s office right after I picked my co-worker Sherry to be the receiver of my Santa-ly sneaking.

“Did you know those two bullied Glenn into signing up at the last minute?” Sue laughed as she gestured toward Debbie and Barb’s desks. “That man deserves combat pay!”

My immediate reaction was, “OMG I hope he didn’t get me!” and Sue started cracking up even harder.

By the time I made it back to my office, I already had an email from one very generous co-worker (OMG it was totally Bridget) which said, “I got your #1 frenemy” and then proposed A TRADE.

So that’s how Glenn wound up with me as his Secret Santa. (And that’s coincidentally also how Sherry wound up getting much better gifts than she would have.) His list of $10 gift options included: a Wines and Spirits gift card, a Starbucks gift card, or “any food item.” OH REALLY GLENN. At first I was like, “Asian Market, holla.” But then I got a better idea. Because this is Christmas after all, and I didn’t want to be a total asshole and waste Henry’s money on a bunch of bullshit that he’ll end up throwing away, because—ew. But, more on that later.

Do you know how hard it was for me to keep my mouth shut and just be cool about this? Really fucking hard. And I think I did OK, but there were a select handful of people here who knew (Barb immediately forgot though, so that’s good), and I quickly learned that if I just avoided eye contact with Glenn at all costs, I wouldn’t start cracking up and totally out myself as his big-bellied present-dropper.

And I was really subtle about it too! The first day I left him a candy bar that had beef jerky in it. The fact that it was being sold at Target and not out of the back of Jim Bob’s John Deere made it seem like this was an OK thing to give someone, and even Henry agreed that it was a manly candy bar and I was like, “How the hell would you know?”

His next gift was a One Direction journal, which I thought was useful because he goes to meetings sometimes and who doesn’t like to write their name 13,987 times on scratch paper, placemats, war monuments and bathroom stalls? That can’t be just me. Then I bought him some stuff from Big Fun when I was in Clevland last week, like a tiny book of office wisdom, a mini Vanilla Ice cassette case full of gum, and an Office Brown Noser that grows in water. All good things, yet no bombs or things with his face on it, so why would he think it was me?

Meanwhile, I was getting candy and nail polish every day, which was AWESOME. (On my list of things I wanted, I put: nail polish, cheap jewelry and exotic fruit.) I was convinced that my Secret Santa was either a boy or me, because I got chocolate-covered pretzel rods wrapped in a CVS bag and everything else was delivered in plain white envelopes. And boys, like me, don’t generally get into the whole “wrapping” thing. Especially the ones here, I wouldn’t imagine.

I don’t know what happened to my Day 4 photo, but Day 5 was a set of cotton candy scented nail polish wrapped with a Little Tykes advertisement, which made me laugh. My Secret Santa made coming to work way more enjoyable!

So for the final gift exchange, I did one better than a Wine and Spirits gift card and instead bought $10 worth of mini liquor bottles.

And then I designed Glenn-centric labels because you know I have to put his face on everything. (When my friend Elizabeth found out I was Glenn’s Secret Santa, she replied to me on Twitter: Did you put his face on all his presents?)

I’m not going to tell you the duress that Processor Punch caused me. Maybe another day, but I promise you I was a fraction of a centimeter away from shattering my phalanges and knuckles on a plaster wall.

And Other Glenny Flavors.

Glenn is a processor here at the Law Firm, which means he does stuff that I don’t care to understand. All I know about processors is that they import batches and sometimes refer to something called a synonym list. I wanted to incorporate those things on the Processor Punch label so that the processors could laugh while no one else would care. LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT, YOU KNOW? Yes, even Mean Amber.

So that’s where “This batch was imported!

” and “On the synonym list for delicious” came from. I was pretty proud of it because it shows that I have learned something in the almost-four years I’ve been here.

40% Orphan Tears, you guys. Because Glenn is a sonofabitch.

But the real present was a box of oversized cupcakes modeled after the infamous Glenn Would Rather Be Riding The Wacky Worm incident of 2011. Glenn actually still has this hanging up on his desk because it was clearly the best thing to ever happen to him. I turned him into a Law Firm celebrity, basically! OK, not really.

Henry made the cupcakes and brought them to me the night before so that I wouldn’t have to carry them on the trolley the next day, because he’s such a fucking peach.

(As it turns out, I didn’t take the trolley that day after all, but that’s another story to tell at the same time I tell the other story I said I was going to tell.)

So I got to work yesterday, with all of my things, totally giddy because I couldn’t wait to give Glenn his stuff, when Mean Amber was actually being Nice Amber long enough to point out that the gift exchange was scheduled for 2:30 that day AND GLENN LEAVES AT 2:30. I had been having A Day so this was enough to put me over the edge and I almost cried real tears when I told Barb, whose best solution was to send an email to the department reminding everyone that Glenn and Sherry both leave at 2:30 (so I would have been screwed either way!) and their Secret Santas should think about giving them their shit sooner rather than later. I didn’t like this solution, because I wanted all of the Secret Santa players to be there when Glenn was being humiliated. :(

My boss Joy saw how upset I was, and agreed that everyone should be there, but instead of just emailing the group doing the Secret Santa thing, she replied to Barb’s departmental email, essentially telling the WHOLE DEPARTMENT to meet her at Glenn’s desk now. God love her. Thankfully, not the entire department showed up (most of them don’t like being told what to do) but a lot of non-Secret Santa people did mosey on over and you could tell they were thoroughly confused as to why they were being commanded to stop doing work and watch Glenn open presents of his face.

Anyway, he was totally thrilled, if not a little stunned as to why a small crowd of oglers had surrounded his desk. He even proudly took down his Wacky Worm picture and held it up next to the cupcakes so everyone could see. And then Nate said I win at Secret Santa, so I wasn’t as stressed out after that. Thank you, Nate, for always saying the right things!

“Where did you get that beef jerky candy bar?” Glenn asked.

“Why, did it make you sick?” I tentatively asked.

“No, it was actually pretty good,” he admitted. Dammit.

You guys, I am just so bored here sometimes (all of the times) that when I get an opportunity to have a little bit of fun, I fucking run with it. I would have still had fun with any other name I could have drawn, but getting to be Glenn’s Secret Santa totally made my holiday season, so thanks for looking out for me, Bridget!

I wanted to also make him a Starbucks-esque mix CD of Lilith Fair Christmas songs, but my fucking CD burner quit working.

(I also got Glenn a rubber band gun, what was I thinking??)

Then at 2:30, everyone’s Secret Santas were finally revealed! Only one person guessed correctly. And mine wasn’t a boy after all! It was Rachel, which explains why all of her tags were printed out because I used to work on this monster of a spreadsheet for her so I’d recognize her handwriting in a heartbeat. Especially if it was written in red ink. Anyway, my final gift was a bunch of bracelets that I love and I’m wearing three of them right now as I type this.

Me, Cheryl and Rachel.

But the moral of the story is that for a week, everyone got to be excited about something and it was so awesome seeing people giddily sneak around, trying to put stuff on their person’s desk while they were away. I suggested that we do this as often as we can, like have Clandestine Cupids, Lurking Leprechauns, Mystery Martin Luther Kings Jrs….? Yay? Nay?

I have reallllllly been slacking with my Glenn-making. (If you’re new to this wasteland, you can learn about Glenns here.) I can’t even remember if I ever mentioned on here that I started making a wall of RIP Glenns, but I did. Last May or something, I think. Basically, when someone famous dies, they are reborn as a Glenn. Here are the ones I have done so far, and there a ton that I missed, I’m sure. But I was in a Glenn-funk for awhile, I guess.

One Glenn to represent my precious Gerber daisies that bit it last summer.

“It’s all fun and games until you’re putting me up there,” Glenn mumbled as I taped Lou and Edna Krabappel to the wall of death. That was a pretty sobering moment. But then we had champagne to celebrate our boss’s recent nuptials so I’m all evened out now.

The Law Firm is doing this Global Days of Service thingie where we can sign up to do volunteer work one day next month. I didn’t think anything of it when I replied to the email a few weeks ago and said, “YES COUNT ME IN” because I have to fill my suck-up quota somehow.

But then today I came to work and found out that I had to go up to the scary 28th floor and register for a charity and time-slot. I immediately started begging people to go up there with me because GOD FORBID, you guys. Just, god forbid. Luckily, my buddy Natalie offered to accompany me even though she had already gone up earlier in the day to register. This is why working a weird mid-day shift often sucks.

Anyway, once I had a substantial, internal freak-out session over what charity to pick (I settled for the Food Bank), I happily loaded two October-flavored cookies onto a plate and Natalie escorted me safely back to our department. Crisis averted!

So, I texted Henry and of course took the altruistic route by BRAGGING THAT I WAS GOING TO BE A DO-GOODER for a whopping two hours out of my lifetime.

“Oh, boy I hope someone takes pictures of that,” Henry texted back. “I hope it’s manual labor, lol.”

What a dick! So I cried to Barb and Debby S. about it which is something that I do very rarely so they took it seriously.

“Maybe Henry should not spend so much time making fun of you and instead volunteer himself!” Barb said, so I of course relayed this message to Henry because ha-ha-ha Barb’s sticking up for me!

“Tell Barb that I have spent the last 12 years of my life volunteering for a charity,” Henry texted.

Oh OK, good one Henry. (No, really, that was a pretty accurate response.)

Anyway, other than picking up hitchhikers and being friends with Janna, I’ve never done any real charity stuff before, so this should be really interesting. I hope I don’t have to talk to people. Or wear a hair net. Barb and Debbie have me really concerned about hair nets now.

Henry bought these big ass motherwhompin’ Fuji apples and at first I was like, “Fuck yeah, big ass apple!” But then once I brought it to work, I soon realized that there was no way this morbidly obese fruit was fitting in no goddamn apple corer.

Bitch, please.

It’s like the size of a baby’s head. And probably just as juicy. Mmm, soft spots.

Here it is next to a Homie for perspective.

So earlier today, I approached Gayle. And in my sweetest voice and best innocent visage, I cued up the violin music and dove into my sob story.

“Yes, I’ll cut your apple for you,” Gayle interrupted after about 5 seconds. I guess it was pretty obvious where my tale of woe was going.

I met her later on in the kitchen and watched her use A BIG KNIFE to lobotomize my mutant fruit. Our boss walked by on her way out of the office and kind of looked at us funny.

“My apple was too big for the corer, so Gayle is cutting it for me,” I explained with a shrug.

“And do we really want Erin handling a knife?

” Gayle added. This seemed to satiate the boss’s curiosity.

Thank you for your heroics, Gayle!!

The slices couldn’t even fit all the way into my huuuuuge mouth! THAT IS HOW BIG THIS DAMN APPLE WAS.

It was such a delicious apple! Although, every time I jammed a piece into my mouth, I tried to remain blissfully ignorant to what sort of science made my apple so gigantor in the first place. LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA.

You know how sometimes I might become, oh I don’t know, obsessed with things? Usually never anything that is commonly obsessed over, like One Direction or twerking, but little things like strange fruit and wheelchairs? Well, it happened again you guys. Yesterday I was able to finally admit out loud that I am obsessed with my trolley driver. Maybe even in fake-love with him

He’s wearing a bandanna today! I texted Henry when I sat down on the trolley.

What does it look like? Henry replied, because he likes to encourage these things.

And is also apparently trying to dump me.

I was totally excited about this bandanna thing for most of my trip to work, because I had never seen him wearing a bandanna before! I wonder if he was trying to impress me!? So I sat there and chuckled quietly along to all of his happy honkings, until we reached the First Avenue platform.

I hate this platform because this is where his other broad is often standing and he gets all happy to see her. Thankfully, she never actually gets on the trolley. But I can’t figure out why. All of the trolleys go to the same destination at that point, so it’s not like the one after ours is going to take her someplace different. What if she is just pretending to be waiting just so she can see Trolley Driver? MY Trolley Driver!

Usually Trolley Driver will open the door and they will shout cutesy phrases to each other and she will laugh and gloat, like, “Look at me, the one he loves the most!” and I sit there in my dirty trolley seat, stewing in hobo filth and jealousy.

My fake crush has made me fake jealous. What the fuck, you guys.

Yesterday, my bandanna-orgasm was cut short by the presence of Other Woman, now forever known as Bitch Face. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was there at all, standing in all of her public transportation skankiness (those cardigans aren’t fooling anyone, you trolley tramp), Trolley Driver actually removed his person from the trolley in order to cajole with her on the platform. This was 100% not OK. I’m also pretty sure his BOSS would have the same opinion of the matter. I could report him! But I am too in love with him to do that. Although, at one time I was also “too in love” with Henry, and just look at all the shit I’ve done to THAT chump, wouldya.

Still, I took a picture so that when I stomped into work and put Trolley Driver on blast, at least I would have visual proof to illustrate this disgusting tryst to all of my non-caring co-workers.

UGH IT’S SO SICKENING! I CAN’T STAND IT.

I’m off tomorrow and am strongly considering standing around on the platform, but not getting on, just to see if the Rail System Romeo makes any untoward advances on me like he does her. I mean, he did stop me on the sidewalk that one time when he was off-duty, but I need to know who he likes more. I ran this idea past some of my work friends, and most of them shook their heads and murmured, “No. Not a good idea.” Except for Nate. He was on board with this.

But then last night, Henry proposed that I board the trolley that arrives right before the one I normally take, and then I should GET OFF at the First Avenue platform and STAND RIGHT NEXT TO BITCH FACE. Make your choice, Port Authority Player!

This seemed like a great way to spend my day off, but then today, there was some broad driving my usual trolley so now I’m wondering if he really did get in trouble for leaving his post?

!

But then some guy boarded the trolley with his stroller-bound toddler, pulled out a composition note and proceeded to frantically scribble. So I fixated on him mostly, until I saw Bitch Face look up from her phone as our trolley screeched to a halt at her platform, and then I smiled smugly when I saw the look of disappointment on her stupid bitch face when she realized it wasn’t Trolley Tease. BECAUSE YOU PROBABLY GOT HIM FIRED, BITCH FACE.

Meanwhile, Kevin Spacey’s character from “Seven” was totally ignoring his kid, whom he had deposited behind his seat and into the accordianed area that connects the two trolleys, and just furiously thought-jotting away.

There was this weird moment right after I took his picture when I wondered if he was writing about the stupid white sweater-wearing bitch taking pictures of him on the trolley. God, I hope so.

I guess at this point, I should probably just make an entire blog category for the trolley.

Hey guys, what do you want to talk about today? Bullshit? OK, that’s my favorite. Let’s do it in bulletpoints, though.

• Today, I was walking to the trolley and the air just felt like fall and I was washed over with these obscure memories of when I moved to Brookline in 1999, like how I had this job on the street I walk up every day to catch the trolley and it was going to be so perfect because I could just walk to work everyday and my mom wouldn’t have to pay my rent anymore. I was telemarketing, basically calling people and talking to them about coupons? I can’t remember, but I only lasted a week and the manager tried to withhold my $16 paycheck because I never returned the flimsy red plastic binder she gave me. That company is obviously not there anymore and my mom spent the next 8 months paying my rent until I finally got a real job. My mom was super nice back then. Kind of.
• Today, I had the good sense to be a parent and look at Chooch’s school calendar, which is how I learned that it is black and gold day, and has apparently been so the last two Fridays as well. Oops. So this morning, I was like, “Shit, does he even have anything black and gold?” because he hates the Penguins and I won’t let him like the Steelers, and we all have non-opinions for the Pirates but hey—good job, team! Keep it up! Then I remembered it was Friday the 13th, so I tossed a pair of gold pants at Chooch and said, “Here, happy black and gold day.” Andit’s a good thing I took his picture, because that was how I continued my streak of parenting (not even good parenting, just regular parenting) and noticed that his fly was down just in time. But even I hadn’t, the Facebook Fly Police ticketed me immediately after I posted this:

• As noted above, today is Friday the 13th. I was excited to wear my Jason Voorhees hair fascinator that everyone at work thinks is SO CUTE. Of course every non-Friday the 13th, I see that sonabitchin’ thing laying around. But today when I needed it, it was AWOL. I blame Henry for not finishing the coffee table yet, because I think it’s somewhere in all of that mess. So instead, I wore Chooch’s cat bowtie, because we’re supposed to be sharing it anyway:

• Sometime after thinking it was a good idea to put that Jason shirt on Chooch and then dropping him off at school, it occured to me that maybe not everyone there would think it was a good idea for me to have put that shirt on Chooch. Yeah, I know he’s not in Catholic school anymore but it only takes one person to get all offended at a tshirt taking a small, harmless jab at Jesus. But then I reminded myself that this is why I listed Henry as the primary contact, so what the fuck do I (or Jason) (or Jesus!!) care? I just texted Henry and he said he didn’t hear anything so it’s a good thing I didn’t waste any time caring.
• Guess what I’m doing this weekend!? Well, first I’m going to the dentist, and then Chooch and I are walking to the theater down the street to see “Labryinth” while Henry stays home and finishes all of the projects I’ve been doling out, but then you guys!! Then guess what!? I’m going to practice baking! I just feel very inspired and motivated and I really want to contribute to the pie party this year. And Henry said he thinks I can do it (he’s totally afraid to commit to an answer on that one) and he’ll be there to supervise, so I’m going for it. I also want to make Mexican caramel? I don’t even know what that is. I was reading too many food blogs this week, I guess.
  • I mean, I baked a cake that one time, so I can do this! ….Right? It’s just a matter of getting past the whole “reading a recipe” part. I hate reading recipes! I can’t follow that shit!!
• This has been a really depressing week as far as produce goes. Henry promised we can go to the Asian market this weekend though. If they don’t have persimmons, I might kill something.
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  Or eat Henry’s face. But then I’d have to pick beard-straws out of my teeth.

• I lost two pounds this week! I also rolled my ankle the other day doing one of my Jillian Michaels DVDs and tears instantaneously sprung from my eyeballs. I called Henry later to whine about it and he asked if I stopped exercising after that happened, and simulataneously we said, “No” except that Henry’s “no” was in a stupid mocking tone. But when I hurt my ankle, there was only one last abs segment after that so I was able to keep going since I didn’t have to use my feet, god Papa H!
• Haunted houses.
• I made amends with someone the other day and it felt really good. Scary, but good.
• I e-met this girl who lives in the area, is a year older than me and likes the same music as me. She took her daughter to Warped Tour and Pierce the Veil is one her favorite bands!
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  She seems really cool and I want to ask her if she wants to go get coffee or something, but I feel so ruined by last year’s shitshow with Psycho Seri that I am almost crippled when it comes to meeting people now. That’s not like me and it really sucks.

• Had a wonderful phone convo with my friend Rick today about writing and the possibility of getting a writing group together, which would be really awesome considering I don’t consider myself a writer. Maybe some sort of love will be rekindled? Because most days I feel donezo with this thing.
• I had to get my photo taken yesterday for my drivers license and I unintentionally wore a Cure t-shirt, which made me smile because of CURE WEEK, HOW APROPOS.
  • I don’t know when I started abusing the Caps Lock button but now I fear that I can’t quit it. It’s become a part of me. Although, I do shout a lot of my words in real life when I’m with people I’m the most comfortable with.
• My Philly friends Terri and Christian are coming to town next weekend for a show and I’m so excited to see them! I met them in 2011 at the AP Tour in Cleveland.
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  We were guests of our mutual friend Jason (editor-in-chief of Alternative Press/Boylan’s Root Beer suckler/all-around cool dude), and when he had to leave us alone together at the after party, he was worried there would be blood because hello, hockey rivals! Penguins and Flyers! But we got along really well, even when we talked about hockey, and have kept in touch online ever since. Christian is also the one who encouraged us to take Chooch to see Pierce the Veil last March in Lancaster, because he had been to that venue before and felt that it would be fine. And it totally was! So stoked to see them! (Hopefully Henry puts our living room back together before then.)

• Hold on. I have to make coffee before I fall asleep at my desk.
• I’m back with my coffee but then I remembered I have nothing left to say. Goodbye.