another piece of work misfit has my hedwig cd

i do try to play well with others and even with having much, much more patience in dealing with annoying others than i used to, there are still times when small maneuvers can get under my skin, and i can become....a bit testy.

on friday, i had to work sans the buffer of either YinBoss or YangBoss to keep our office manager more manageable. with no owners in sight, hat put me manning the office accompanied by our intern and HammahTime. not even that the chiefs' presence make the office any different, but they must keep some of the weird behavior in check, because without them around, i could not avoid observing her in the truest of form. HammahTime has a litany of issues on her plate that would require entirely too much of my blog time to even attempt to dissect, but i would like to share the tale of the stage/hollywood actor who became her nemesis after an ill-fated bout of pushyface. let us call this chap TomHanks, but you know i'm just booolshittin, cuz that ain't who it is! TomHanks has a live band as a sidebar project that seems to gig around the chi with some regularity when he's not making a movie. much to Hammah's detriment, a couple of years ago, he took his band out on a u.s.o tour and hired HammahTime to serve as their road manager on the reco of some friend of an aquaintance. they hit some islandymiddleeasternlyexotica military bases and for some time, a little photo collage was running our my agency's site promoting her brush with star quality. so, i asked HT about this trip right after i starting working here last summer, genuinely interested in any tales she'd have to impart about this actor, and she gave me this big sob story about what an asshole he was to her, how she "was only doing what she was told", but some of the guys in the band got bent out of shape about the way she handled....something. i mean, she was plainly instructed that everyone in the gang had to have their passports out for some kind of special screening going through an airport, and well, i guess she got kinda in everyone's face about it and maybe it seemed a little abrupt, but she was *only* doing what they'd told her! i suppose they also included instruction to turn into a wildebeest on anyone who dared to object, and i could absolutely see this weirdo turn loose at the mere sip of perceived authority, cuz girlfriend *love* to be in charge. i bet she acted like a total nutcase and the band cats gave that action the old hell no. it seems as though her unbecoming behavior prohibited Hammah from further enjoying the fruits of her affiliation with TomHanks as she was not brought back for the next run on the road, after they'd all but hired her, but i guess that was before. whatev! this tour is easily in the past two years' history, if not longer ago now, yet HT is still holding on to some bitter party of one. i was actually called out of my cubby to share the message she'd typed into some random budweiser-sponsored internet program that gives verbal life to any photo you want to attach. thus, here's the script that this robot voice bleeted at us:

"hi, i'm TomHanks and i'm a second rate actor. i am totally dull and have the personality of a wet mop soaked in dog pis. i think i'm a great musician, but in realty, i suk. in fact, i suck big llama dick everyday."

i believe that to be as verbatim as i can hope for, and sadly must inform you the author is 27 years old. 27! i would like it noted that dog "pis" was indeed spelled with a singular s, rendering the pronounciation heavy on its short front accent. pis! pis! realty and suk misspelled as well. i really didn't know how to react to this new toy. i just stood there staring at the monitor and HammahTime howling and guffawing, then eventually chocking and spitting on her laughter as her heft slid and tumbled around her chair. how can you really absorb the entire plot of all this scene implies? beyond the weirdness of that talking photo, she also snitched on YangBoss, to both the intern and me, with claims to have "found" porn stashed away on his computer, the first alleged incident of this took place five years ago. the claim is that she was using an old computer in one of our previous offices (this crazy bitch has never worked anywhere else since college graduation but for these two dudesso she made sure to investigate his computer while the office was closed last weekend and show her findings to YinBoss' wife, who happens to do our accounting. our intern questioned how this porn was stashed away and she admitted that it was in a non-descript file called "new folder" buried away inside folder inside folder inside folder. and you just "found" that shit? she had the nerve to quip, "you can't ever act like you know this! i hope it doesn't ruin your opinion of YangBoss!" no, i find nothing wrong with the owner of this very small company viewing whatever he likes on his own private computer that he's paying for every month along with the office housing it that is also rented on his dime. but i do, in fact, have a problem with anyone like HammahTime who replaces the life she desperately needs by snooping through other people's biz and most especially, spreading the word around where she needn't. she gots gall.

which leads to my snapping fit with HT this a.m. i'd sent an e-mail to YangBoss reminding him that i was meeting with our attorney for the Agent99/Mole v. Slumlord case today and would be in before noon. i also had to reschedule a session with this wacky talent agent (formerly of the chi, now in l.a.) and it fit into my morning plans perfectly, so i got that worked in as well. i enjoyed my lesson, but it really is odd to fully dissect the way you look and sound on film. i need some style cut into my locks again, that's fo sho. they starting to look a little too shaggy and non-descript. looking forward to seeing this guy again when he's back in the chi come summer. think i have some good instincts that need that i simply need to use again and get polishing and he can help. anyway, i roll in just before my stated time and am greeted with, "weeellllll, good afternoon, Agent99!!" and an exaggerated tap of the watch on her wrist. first of all, i really don't feel the need to explain my whereabouts to the receptionist, and secondly, upon my hire here, i expressly arranged to have flex-time as i see fit to pick up waitressing shifts or utilize for whatever other creative endeavors i need to make time for. my voiceover and this on-camera lesson directly corrolate to my ability to make some much needed extra funds, which again does not require me to notify the administrative help. Mole praised me recently about how well i put up with this silly girl's shit, but at times i just can't keep the wolverine under wraps, and i'm gonna snap. i believe a verbatim quote from me to this bullshit about my arrival time was a don't go there look followed by, "um....girl, i think we both know that i work on my own schedule here. besides the fact that i notified who i needed to about my where i was today, so *don't worry about it.*" i admit that my tone was snappish and i probably should have just ignored her remark and moved on, but sometimes a sistah gots to say what she gots to. you don't see me commenting every day that Hammah oversleeps, gets her car stuck in mud, or leaves early for endless doctor appointments to get her middle surgically reduced. no, i don't feel the need to get up in anyone's biz otha than mine, but that don't mean that i'm blind to her constantly updating her profile on some freebie singles site and IM'ing all these randomites she meets on that hideous awful hot or not? website. on the company time, but don't mind me. that ain't my biz.

you know i'll be clearing out my internet history with a vengence tonight to keep her outta my junk. that's a real shame when you have to look over your shoulder as you type in the office, but, at the same time, at leaet i can type in the office and play on the interweb. i'm not ignorant of the fact that i do have the freedom to do what i want, when i want it, reasonably off da record here. that is worth its weight in gems.