I had just arrived to work yesterday and was loitering around Barb’s desk like I’m wont to do until it’s officially my start time, because god forbid I should be in my office-thing prior to 1:30 and have to answer the phone or something. While I was standing there, an office-wide email went out announcing that one of the Pittsburgh Penguins had arrived at the Firm to deliver the season tickets and have his picture taken with the winner of last week’s raffle, which I didn’t enter because it required me to have to leave my department and venture onto another floor alone, and we all know how awful I am at that. I’m a firm believer in the Buddy System.

The email went on to say that if anyone wanted to check out a Penguin in the flesh, just mosey on up to the reception area on the 28th floor. Maybe you know that I’m a pretty big hockey fanatic. I scarred Chooch for life when the Penguins won the Stanley Cup in 2009 and I was holding him and screaming and he was CRYING. I mean, CRYING HIS STUPID THREE-YEAR-OLD HEAD OFF. He was like, “Put me down, Crazy Lady!” and has hated hockey ever since.

“Do you want to go?” Barb asked, and I was like, “Um, if I don’t have to go alone, then yes!”  So I was running back to my office-thing to get my badge-thing, when Amber2 and Girl-Chris (she’s new and likes weird fruit and owls and My Chemical Romance and has gone to Warped Tour and she feeds me, so we’re basically best work-sisters now) were all, “Hey, do you want to go up with us to see who it is?” And that is how we wound up with a real life stalking posse.

I was so frantic about this though that first I almost forgot to grab my phone and THEN I almost fell when I was running around the corner because my shoe was untied. Barb made me tie it in the elevator.

To get to the 28th floor, we have to take the elevator down to the lobby and go to a different elevator bank on the other side of the building. As we were walking over to that side, we saw some old broad holding her phone up to take a picture. We entered the elevator bank JUST IN TIME TO SEE ONE OF THE ELEVATOR DOORS CLOSING ON MOTHERFUCKING JAMES “ERIN’S PROM DATE” NEAL OMFG. We were joking on the way down that they were probably going to send a 4th liner, and Amber2, who loves James as much as me, jokingly wished for it to be James Neal. And then we laughed because why would James Neal want to come to a law firm. BUT THANK YOU AMBER FOR WISHING IT TRUE!!

So we get into another elevator and proceed to freak out while some random woman stood in the corner trying to pretend she didn’t think we were idiots. When we arrived at reception, I was bracing myself to have to elbow-chop my way though a throng of excited law firm workers, but there were like, 10 of us. When we walked in, James was on the upper level with his cameraman in tow, getting ready to be escorted to a private room somewhere down the hall.

I sent this picture to Henry and he was like, “Nice. Who is it?”

“PROM DATE!!!” I replied, and he was all, “lol.”

It wasn’t the best photo-op, but it was better than nothing! I haven’t been that close to a real life hockey player since 1992! I figured we were going to go back to work after that, but Barb shouted, “Well, he has to come back out sometime!” So we hung around for a few minutes while Barb made us look at these disgusting spiders hanging outside the window and then tried to make up some story about why they like the 28th floor, but thank god JAMES NEAL came back and saved us from Barb’s Nature Hour! We all clapped for him and he smiled and waved and we prepared for him to walk down the steps to our level but sonofabitch if he wasn’t escorted to the elevators on that level.

Barb started running. “Maybe we can get on the same elevator!” she gasped, jabbing at the down button. The door started to open and we all held our breath. But it was empty. I was kind of relieved because I’m not sure I could handle being on an ELEVATOR with the guy. Elevators are pretty much in my Top 5 Most Awkward Locations.

Barb tried one more time before conceding. “They probably have one of those keys so that the elevator will just go all the way down without stopping,” she said, and we all stepped into the empty elevator, accepting that our brush with greatness was just that: a tiny, brief brush from a distance.

The elevator spilled us out into the lobby and there he was, just about to leave through the revolving doors with his cameraman, surrounded by NO ONE. The four us just stood there in a huddle next to the security desk, giggling and acting like basic puck bunnies, which is really so not like me! I love hockey terribly, but I am not the type of person to stalk the players after a game. But it was JAMES NEAL and he is so great, you guys. Just so goddamn great. (And his face is pretty goddamn great too, OMFG.)

I guess his stalker senses began to prickle, because he turned around right before leaving and made eye contact with all of us. Good lord, I can only imagine what we must have looked like to him. A bunch of cats in heat, is my guess.

He smiled at us and I vaguely remember kind of waving back. IT’S ALL A BLUR, OK?

“Do you want a picture?” he asked, and then slowly and cautiously approached us. I don’t know where I got the balls to be the first one to step forward, I think I was operating on pure hockey adrenaline at that point, but then I just stood there in front of him, holding up my phone, forgetting how to even use it.

“Do YOU want to be in the picture?” he asked and I stupidly said, “Oh. OK.” So Girl-Chris tool this picture of me forgetting how to stand next to another human being:

This photo makes me look like I’ve lost zero pounds since January but I don’t even care because JAMES NEAL. I really need to learn how to stand.

I remember instantly perspiring the moment he placed his hand on my back and almost blurting out: I TWEET ABOUT YOU BEING MY PROM DATE LIKE ALL OF THE TIME!!! But to myself I was saying, “Just keep your fucking mouth shut. DON’T RUIN THIS MOMENT WITH YOUR UNINTELLIBLE WORDS.”

It was the longest MOST ROMANTIC 5 seconds of my life, after which I slid into the background and proceeded to have full-body shakes while Amber2 and Girl-Chris had their turns (Barb politely declined the photo op and said she was happy just watching us completely unravel into a giggly puddle of estrogen and pheromones). Then one of our other co-workers walked into the lobby on her way back from getting lunch and was all, “What’s going on? I want in on this, too” and then made me hold her half-eaten foil-wrapped burger while she jumped in for a picture. Yes please, let’s add to Erin’s awkwardness by forcing her to hold a hot clump of meat far away from her body like it’s a bomb.

My face probably bore a striking resemblance to that mound of beef in my hand: one blushing, sebaceous hot mess.

I can’t even remember going back to our floor after that. HOW DID WE GET BACK UP THERE?!

Those ten minutes pretty much rendered Amber2 and me useless for the rest of the day. God, what a great day to work at the law firm!! And then it occurred to me that the goddamn cameraman was all up in our grills, so that was a slight urination on my excitement. I hope that shit doesn’t surface anywhere.

I sent Henry this picture and it took him TWO HOURS to reply. Because now he’s afraid that James Neal is going to come back for me, THAT’S WHY. Yeah Henry, you better be fucking afraid. I heard he’s really into nervously frumpy girls who don’t talk.

(Here, go to this post and watch this 30 second video to know how awesome James Neal is. Oh, and have a good day.)

Hi. Remember last week when GLENN REPLACED MY SMART ONES WITH A RANSOM NOTE!? Well, aside from  durian candy-bombing his desk, I never really paid him back for the stress and prolonged hunger he caused me.

But then today, the new issue of Us Weekly was delivered literally three minutes before I left for work, and as soon as I saw the now-infamous picture of twerkin’ sensation Miley Cyrus, I tore off the front page, folded it, tucked it into my purse, and giggled the whole way to work.

“Why do you look so happy?” he asked when I walked past him on my way to my office-thing. “That concerns me.”

I just smiled bigger and got to work. And by “work” I mean printing out his stupid face to tape onto another stupid face.

I think he really enjoyed this one, to be honest. I could tell by the way he was trying not to laugh, which is the same thing Henry does when he doesn’t want to admit that maybe, god forbid, something I did was actually mildly humorous.

P.S. Todd is the poor guy who has to sit in front of Glenn.

****

I’m so glad today is Friday. My nerves and patience are twerkin’ in doubletime.

I JUST WENT TO GET MY DINNER OUT OF THE FREEZER AND THIS IS WHAT I FOUND.

I searched other freezers around Law Firm Town and can’t find my Smart Ones. I DID NOT RECEIVE A RANSOM CALL. Whoever did this must have forgotten all about it. ALL ABOUT ME AND MY HALFWAY-TO-EMACIATED SELF!

(Haha, me? Emaciated?)

I thought maybe it was A-Ron, but I don’t think he’d misspell entree.

Someone clearly doesn’t think Weight Watchers is working fast enough, I guess.

:(

EDIT: I FOUND IT!! There was some hidden freezer tray thingie and it was stashed up in there.

Everyone can calm down now!

EDIT AGAIN: IT WAS GLENN. BARB JUST TOLD ME.

The day I left for vacation, one of my Gerber daisies perished. Amber1 left me a distraught message about it on Facebook and said she wasn’t sure if it was Rhoda or VOLTRON, but that she felt really bad. Amber2 suggested it was due to stress since I had relocated their pot behind Gayle before I left, so that they wouldn’t have to be alone.

When I came back to work yesterday, it was sad seeing the empty stem that was once Rhoda, but I was pleased to see that VOLTRON survived in my absence.

UNTIL TODAY.

As soon as I got to work, I noticed that he was wilting, almost in mourning posture and it made my heart break. I watered him, thinking maybe he was thirsty? I don’t know!! I’m new at parenting plants. Well, apparently watering him exacerbated the situation, and by late afternoon, he had bowed even lower.

Nate came to offer his assistance, and together we fashioned a splint out of a plastic knife.

However, I think this might have made things worse and humiliated poor VOLTRON to boot. Nate, grasping for straws (literally—a straw was his first suggestion when we were about to MacGuyver handicapped accessories but he ended up not being able to find one), even said a little prayer for VOLTRON.

(“dear god, save VOLTRON” is how I think the religious spell went.)

(Jeannie witnessed our awkward gardening experiments and shook her head accordingly. Jeannie hates daisies, pass it on!

)

Alas, VOLTRON bit it by that evening. I tried to adjust his knife-splint and three quarters of his petals fluttered to the ground like really pretty dandruff. Sue stopped by for a consult and confirmed that yes, VOLTRON had expired. She advised me to chop off his head*, so I did. I lopped it off with my fake blood-coated scissors like I was Winona Ryder and he was Gary Oldman’s Dracula.

And then I made a Gerber daisy Glenn to add to the RIP wall. :(

*(New ones might grow? Reanimated daisies?)

Here at the Law Firm, there used to be a wall papered with pictures of dead celebrities. It was pretty fun for awhile and featured everything from Tupac to the planet Pluto, but eventually the novelty wore off, and then after two years, our boss took down all of the pictures because new offices were being erected (lol) in that area.

Last night, Amber2 and I were brainstorming Glenn ideas because my wicked streak has been too idle these last few months. If I’m not constantly fucking with someone, then I feel worthless and dead inside. Amber consulted her calender to see if we could incorporate any upcoming holidays, so then at least there would be a theme, and then remembered that Pride is this weekend here in Pittsburgh. While I would love to do a series of gay Glenns, I feel like maybe that wouldn’t go over too well (much like the desire to start a rumor that he’s a lesbian, which still makes me LOL every time to the point of weeping). But then Amber casually suggested that we bring back the RIP wall, Glenn-style, and if I had gotten on board any faster, I’d have capsized the motherfucking boat.

WHAT A GREAT IDEA!!

Still, I sent an email to Sandy and Nate, because they would for sure let me know if this was a good idea for real, and they were like “Yes, we approve” and then Sandy suggested that I start with Jean Stapleton, whom it turns out barely anyone here recognizes. Losers.

Wendy, however, was like, “If you say so….” when I tried to convince her that this was an excellent idea that would bring our department together like the old days. Interestingly, Glenn said that the exact same thing when I told him he was about to be a reluctant star again. (But like Henry, he secretly loves it.)

As you can see, I still excel at photographing my Glenns.

I feel like I may have already introduced my new flower, Rhoda, to the Internet, but my blog has been such a pit of despair lately that I can’t bring  myself to check my recent posts. So, here she is (again, maybe). I made Henry buy her for me at some roadside produce stand because suddenly I’m Little Miss Erin Flower Keeper. The last time I had a flower was right after Chooch was born. I was determined to prove to, who? Myself? Henry? LiveJournal? that I could multitask keeping a newborn baby AND A FLOWER alive.

Well, the flower only lasted about a week. Mostly because Speck kept eating it. And also a little bit because I forgot it was there.

Before that was the Great African Violet Bed Shitting of 1985. First of all, who buys a 6-year-old an African Violet?! Oh, my mom when she’s trying to placate me at Arcadian Gardens. Fuck, I hated that place.

Anyway, I was all excited to take Rhoda to work after Memorial Day. I carried her with me all gently on the trolley. Lots of old people smiled at me. Flowers make old people happy. Then I took her around the office, excitedly introducing her to everyone. “I’m going to raise her all on my own, without Henry’s help!” I kept saying. And that wasn’t a lie, although at the end of the week, I discovered poor Rhoda on my windowsill and thought, “Oh shit, I forgot she was there.” So I ran her over to Amber2, who has A LOT of vegetation on her desk because she understands what plants need to flourish, and she taught me how to water Rhoda.

I was feeling pretty good about myself after that, much like you would after throwing a sockful of peach pits and Chuck E Cheese tokens at an orphan, and promptly forgot about Rhoda’s existence again. Much like you would an orphan after throwing a sockful of peach pits and Chuck E. Cheese tokens at one.

But last night at work, I was shuffling papers at my other desk-thing, which is what I do sometimes when I want people to think I’m busy, when I noticed that:

(a) Rhoda was still sitting there obediently

(b) Her other bud-thing had hatched and now I had TWO!!!

(c) The dirt was dry as FUCK. (Something Snooki probably has never said about her kooka. I just imagine it’s a perpetual swamp down there.)

This was exciting because my work-friend Nate had preemptively named the bud VOLTRON but in my head I was like, “Shit, maybe we shouldn’t have named this yet. Doesn’t the farmer’s almanac say it’s bad luck to name a fetus-flower?” So then I was secretly angry at Nate for aborting my bud before it even had a chance in this cruel world.

Luckily, Nate has been taken off my List.

FOR NOW.

Internet, meet VOLTRON!!

OH I JUST LOVE HIM!

Lee left us on Friday to move back home to Baltimore. Of course we’re all super stoked for him, but it sucks to lose another work buddy. I already have major abandonment issues, so now I just feel straight up emotionally abused. SERIOUSLY. I’m going to try and get reimbursed for my future shrink bills.

Let us never forget some important facts about Lee:

• He was the only one who attended the funeral for my sea monkey, back when we weren’t even friends yet!
• He hates Juggalos with ever fiber of his being and would likely risk incarceration for the opportunity to Hulk Smash one.
• He likes to say “Hulk Smash.” A lot.
• He didn’t talk to me for an entire day when I turned him into a Juggalo:

Juggalo 4 Lyfe. Straight Faygo Chuggin’.

• He gives the “best birthday presents” to 6-year-old boys and makes sure no one forgets about it. Ever.
• He was once a carnival freak with his bromance, Chris:

• He HATES THE STEELERS which was awesome for me because I HATE THE STEELERS so I felt less alone at work on black & gold Fridays during football season. One time, I even purposely wore purple along with him, because that is the color of the BALTIMORE RAVENS GOD FORBID!
• He has the best fist pumps ever, which I could never learn. But I always flinched when he would perform them.
• He hates that I love Jonny Craig, but admitted that Jonny Craig “actually has a decent voice.” But he still would punch him. He was so mad when I took this picture of my Jonny Craig doll playing with his toys one night when he wasn’t around:

Tuesday Night Late Shifts will never be the same.

Today was shaping up to be a pretty ordinary Thursday. I was in a so-so mood when I strolled over to Barb’s desk around 2:30 today for a visit. Nate and Debbie S. were there too, and what we were talking about wasn’t very note-worthy, just some mild banter.

And then Glenn walked by.

“We should start a rumor that Glenn is a lesbian,” Barb said. I don’t recall any overt hysterics from Nate or Debbie over this suggestion, but I fucking DIED. I was laughing so hard I had to walk away. Then I realized I had walked into a dead-end, so I turned around and had to find the nearest chair to sit in to keep from showering my co-workers with gleeful urination.

“THAT IS THE BEST IDEA EVER!!” I squealed once I was able to speak again. I can totally picture him in a flannel and skinny jeans at a Tegan and Sara show, can’t you?!

So, I was walking back to my office-thing and saw Glenn sitting all lesbianly at his desk and I lost my shit all over again. Amber2 looked concerned because when I get this giddy, it oftentimes appears that I am under some sort of duress, the kind of red-hued scrunched-up face one might put on immediately after learning of the death of a loved one or Corey Haim. Unfortunately, this is also my Ugly Laugh face.

I tried to explain to her what was going on, but this only resulted in my having to SQUAT DOWN and bury my face in my arms. Every time I opened my mouth to talk, I could only manage to vomit out incomprehensible, muffled sounds.

“I’ll just email you!” I wheezed. Even better is that there is a new processor who just started last week and she sits right in front of Amber2, which is unfortunately pretty close to me, so she gets to overhear all sorts of weird things that may or may not have something to do with weird things and me.

This uncontrollable laughing alone carried on for over an hour without reprieve (for me or those in direct vicinity of me). And then I started telling more and more people (most of whom were like, “That is not really that funny”) so eventually, Glenn was all, “Ha-ha, what is going on?”

This only made the remainder of my sanity expire in a mushroom-cloud explosion of tears and laughter and I had to literally run away from him.

Finally, I emailed him and said, “Barb just wanted to know if you like the Indigo Girls” which confused him even more.

I can’t even look at him now without hearing “Come To My Window” in my head. I tried to get my friend Natalie, whose office is right next to Glenn’s desk, to walk by him while singing the chorus but she was just like, “I hate you.”

I printed this out and taped it to his desk.

This is the best rumor ever! Does anyone have an “L Word” DVD I can put on his desk?

Man. Today I was going to start writing about my amusement park weekend, but how can I possibly write about anything  joyous when today was my office buddy Angie’s last day at the Law Firm? WHO WILL I TALK TO NOW ABOUT JONNY CRAIG AND PIERCE THE VEIL!? (Answer: Everyone else here at the Law Firm, plus Henry and the Internet, but still — you know what I mean.)

I didn’t really get to know Angie until recently, when I switched positions in the department, but she had quickly become one of my favorite people here and now she is gone and I feel dead inside. She was the best person to be office-mates with (unlike my other office-mate—Jeannie—who tells me I’m dumb and openly mocks me—yes, that’s right: sweet little innocent me! I do nothing to provoke this!). Angie didn’t whistle “Desperado” or cut coupons at her desk or have babies in the bathroom. She basically mentored me, plus she knew ALL of the good gossip. Now where will I get my scoop?! (I was starting to type “Certainly not Lee” and then he walked in here, haha.)

And then Friday was Chris’s last day. I tried to avoid him because I didn’t want to say goodbye, but then he hugged me before he left and I went back to my office and cried like the little sentimental bitch that I am. I remember when I started here April of 2010, Chris was on vacation and Barb was so anxious for him to get back so I could meet him. He totally lived up to Barb’s praises!

Friday was also Pam’s last day, and then of course Sean’s was last week and also Brad left in April and Kristen left in February. I am quite literally saying “WAH!” right now. Change is not something I handle well.

Sorry to all of my friends who left us before all those guys (Carey, Jamie, Nina, Tyler…), but I ran out of “children” to Photoshop over!

It’s just not the same here anymore.  But at least I can still make fun of Glenn.

Today was Sean’s last day at The Law Firm and I am distraught. I didn’t even hug him because I knew I would lose it, so we just high-fived.

The whole week has been sad, like one long depressing build-up to the inevitable. Monday night was our last late shift together. :( And the next day, he passed on the “torch” to Lee. (Who barely deserves it!)

Smug Lee.

After Sean told me he was leaving, I was talking to Chooch about it the next morning. Chooch had kind of a weird nemesis-type relationship with Sean in that he enjoyed randomly punching him in the stomach anytime he would see him.

“Why is he leaving?” Chooch asked.

“I don’t know. Because he hates it there.”

“Maybe he hates you,” Chooch sneered. Jesus, kid! Don’t I have enough of a complex? Just last night he told me that Henry doesn’t love me because I’m “not right for him.” OMG, I quit!

WAHHHHHH!

When I got to work today, I asked Sean if Glenn had cried yet, since they’ve sat next to each other for all these years.

“Not until you got here,” Glenn answered for Sean.

But then also today is Debbie’s 50th birthday! So it’s like, “Boo-hoo, goodbye Sean! HOORAY FOR DEBBIE AND CUPCAKES!

” I am so fucking confused right now. (Plus, earlier I thought my buddy from the mail room was barking at me so now he’s going around telling people I have a barking fetish. And you know what, maybe I DO, now that I think about it.)

Cupcakes! I stayed strong (so far) and have not had one, not even after Nate offered to split one with me.

Birthday girl! I gave her one of my pendants and even wrote something NICE inside a card, and she was going on about how sweet I am, so I told her to pass that shit on because most people here think I’m evil.

Grampa Glenn.

——–

Last night, I was walking through my old quadrant, which we’ve been calling Forbidden City since the Firm moved in some other department over there and now we’re prohibited from cutting through (but I still do since I work late shift and Those People are gone by then). When I passed my original desk, I honest to god started to cry because I CAN’T HANDLE CHANGE and things have been REALLY changing so fast lately. I think since December, five of my buddies here have left, and two more are following in Sean’s footsteps this month alone. I just can’t handle it.

And I had a really bittersweet dream about my two dead cats, Speck and Don, the other night so I have been in hardcore nostalgia-mode all week.

Plus the Boston bombings, WTF kind of a fucking week is this!?!?

I am going to fucking rage this weekend, that’s all I know.

So here I am, in my own personal panic because I still have these things I want/need to blog about, like the rest of the shit we did on the way home from Lancaster and HELLO THE JONNY FUCKING CRAIG SHOW OMG, but what am I doing instead? Sharing a glimpse inside my dumb little office at work. Because it’s Friday and I’m all tuckered out after I was almost involved in a shooting that happened downtown a few hours ago. MORE ON THAT LATER.

Here we have a picture of my cat Don (RIP, buddy) and James Neal, my prom date. (Possibly more widely known as a Pittsburgh Penguin, though.)

The elephant thingie I bought at Mr. Ed’s and thought I lost!

A picture of Chooch with the band Chiodos held up by a scene kid magnet by awesome friend Brandy made me!

A picture of a bloody tooth I keep around to remind my co-workers not to fuck with me. (It doesn’t work on many people anymore though, just the n00bs.)

Yay, Amish memories!

Chooch drew that for me on the back of a receipt a few years ago. He probably thought I threw it away.

All the Glenns from Halloween!

St. Rita, Kellin Quinn, Austin Carlile and Marcy, all in a row.

‘Sup, homie. Also, instructions to access my voicemail because I never remember.

I get lots of papercuts. At least now I can decorate them.

Shitty Asian candy that no one is stupid enough to eat. (Except Jamie!)

Light reading.

The best mug in the world (thanks, Michelle!) and the omnipresent Jonny.

Freak flag, Jesus pen, Bayernhof literature.

The scene outside after a shooting, which happened at the exact time I take my break and sometimes I walk on that street! I MIGHT HAVE GONE THAT WAY TODAY if Angie hadn’t come into my office right before 4pm and started telling me a story. She saved my life (or buttock — that’s what was shot at)!

OK. I hope you enjoyed this unnecessary tour of my work digs. Now I’m about to go eat an apple, which I obtained by fruit panhandling around the department because Henry is a motherfucker who is suddenly against buying fruit. (Also scored two Cuties, a bag of light popcorn, some Pop Chips, string cheese and a packet of oatmeal. See that Henry? My co-workers got my back.)

Apropos egg fillers.

I have to admit — this Easter Glenn Egg thing wasn’t as legendary as I had hoped, only because this week ended up being kind of busy for me at work. THE NERVE, amirite? But people still seemed to have had fun with it, and that’s all I really wanted to accomplish anyway.

There are still some eggs floating around out there, but here are the new Glenns that we have on our relocated Glenn wall.

Mary Magdaglenn, Burning Bush Glenn, Cain & Abel Glenn, Fish & Loaves Glenn.

Jonah and the Whale Glenn, Law Firm Lamb Cake Glenn, Wall of Glenns, Shopping Mall Easter Bunny Glenn.

Last Supper Glenn! Featuring: Mitch, Debbie, Cheryl, Chris, Derek, Wendy, Jesus Glenn, A-ron, Angie, Barb, Sandy, Bridget and Nate. Shout out to Bridget’s stilt-shoes and Faygo.

Abraham and the Sacrifice Glenn, Glenn Parting the Seas, Eve Glenn, Baby Moses Glenn.

Sarris Chocolate Easter Bunny Glenn, Leper Glenn (I was busted looking at pictures of lepers last night because of this), Glenn the Baptist, Goliath Glenn.

The story is that my co-worker Marlene found an egg in the fridge this morning and thought, “That’s odd. Why would someone be chilling a plastic egg?” but then moved on with her life because this is The Law Firm, and weird things go on every day there. But then Debbie told her in passing that there was an Easter egg hunt happening, so Marlene went back for the chilled egg. She told me later that she enjoyed the Tootsie Roll, but did not enjoy the fact that Leper Glenn was in the fridge of all places. I didn’t even intentionally place him there, so that made it even funnier to me.

Glenn and the Amazing Technicolor Coat, Pharaoh Glenn, Delilah Glenn, Jesus Sandal Glenn.

“You really know a lot of Bible stuff,” one of my co-workers said.

I nodded my head, but then said, “Welllll, Google helps.”

Last Thursday, I was on the stupid trolley en route to work, when suddenly I thought to myself, “Easter Glenn Hunt!” Because I don’t have enough shit on my plate right now, let’s add another dollop!

I ran the idea past some of my work friends, who agreed that this needs to happen. So I started making Glenns that night. Obviously, we’re trying to include as many Easter and Bible-themed Glenns as possible, but there are some random ones in there, too.

It’s uncanny how much Glenn really does look like Sue Sylvester from Glee. My work buddy Nate was walking past my office last Friday, singing the McDonald’s Fish McBites song, and interrupted himself to say, “OMG! Fish McBite Glenn!” Nate, your wish has been granted.

Henry was supposed to get me plastic Easter eggs but decided it wasn’t his “priority,” so I only have the 4 eggs that Debbie brought in from her attic. I decided Glenn, who was previously unaware of this activity, should get the first egg. So I placed a pink one on his desk and even put the BEST Glenn inside — the Jesus’s Tomb Peekaboo Glenn. It was taking him too long to notice it was there so I walked over and instead of talking like a normal person, I did that mentally-stunted throaty giggle that I do when I’m up to no good. (Which is often.)

Sean, who sits in front of Glenn, knew what was going on, so he started laughing too. Glenn initially asked me what I wanted, but when I responded with more weird laughter, he brushed it off because he’s used to this.

Finally, I blurted out, “DOESN’T ANYTHING LOOK WEIRD OVER HERE?” waving my hands around his desk area.

“No,” he said dryly. “Not until you walked over.”

I had to actually point at the egg and he still wasn’t going to do anything!

“Oh, do you want me to open it, I guess?” he asked. When he moved aside all of the Mini Eggs (which I stole from behind Debbie’s desk because Henry didn’t buy me any candy, either) and found his Jesus Glenn, he said something to the effect of, “Oh, good. This again.”

This might be my Mona Lisa of all Glenns. Glenn is the head processor in our department, so it seemed like a no-brainer to put doubles of all of the other processors on the ark with him: Sean, Amber¹, Lee, Gayle, Todd and Amber².

This is what I did during my break on Monday. One of the analysts came in to ask me a question and said, “OMG, you’re coloring” and then laughed.

“Not just coloring,” I said with contempt. “Making Glenns.” And then she got all excited because people like collecting Glenns, OK?

I hid my four pitiful eggs Monday night before I left. I was off yesterday because I needed the entire day to panic and puke before going to see Jonny Craig last night, and I didn’t hear anything about people finding eggs, so this might be a flop.

[If you weren’t around for the Halloween Glenn Defacement Project, please click here!]

Good job, Nurse. You motherfucker.

Earlier today, there was a gentle, friendly knock upon my door. “Probably Hot Naybor Chris wanting to use Henry for sex tools,” I thought.

(*Or SEX TOOLS!) 

Then there was another congenial little rap, followed by the sound of the door opening.

I was in the middle of making new serial killer Valentines*, so you can imagine where my mind went.

(*More on this later; I’m super excited about it!)

But it was just the mailman, putting a giant box between my doors. A giant box of FRUIT from my friend Andrea in California! She hooked me the fuck up. Persimmons, guava, honey tangerines, cactus pears, a giant Mexican papaya that didn’t survive the flight…plus CANDY!

You know I’m on a fucking fruit kick when I literally toss the CANDY aside in order to gain better access to the FRUIT.

 Henry came home from work and I screamed, “HURRY UP AND CUT THIS FRUIT FOR MY FRUIT SALAD!” He glanced at the mound of exotic Californian fruit and growled, “Andrea!” in the vein of Pee Wee finding out Francis! stole his bike.

Look at that bitchin’ prickly pear! When I have to Wiki how to eat the fruit in my fruit salad, you know shit’s about to get cray. I should have done my research beforehand, but then I wouldn’t have found out that eating the green part of the prickly pear is a bad idea. Tasted like spicy cucumber and I openly wept a little, loud enough for my office neighbor Angie to ask me WTF was wrong. When she learned that I was just being weird with my fruit, she seemed to lose interest in my plight. I could have been seriously injured!

Then my friend Kevin from Miami (another place that probably has much better fruit than stupid Pittsburgh) told me on Facebook that he bought a sapodilla today. I Googled it and learned that it tastes like brown sugar and ROOT BEER?! WHAT!? I emailed the link to Lee, who is working late shift with me tonight, and he told me I have a full blown problem.

I put in a call  to my fruit purveyor and she’s putting her feelers out for sapodilla. She said she might even have a cherimoya hookup!

What if I became a fruit blogger?

[See also: This Post.]