Heaven's Shit List

First of all, I’d like to start by saying that my friends and I are not horrible people. We’re actually wonderful people, just not the kinds of friends who spend a lot of time talking about sunshine and teddy bears. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not morbid, and we’re definitely there for each other whenever one of us needs it, but hugs and Kleenex are usually pretty short-lived as we’re quickly on to ragging on each other for crying and/or whining and subsequently coming up with random, off-the-wall ways in which the other person’s situation could have been worse – for example:
“At least MFP wasn’t there.”
“Yeah that sucks, but you look really hot today”
“It could totally be worse, Em, you could have no legs.”
“I’m really sorry you broke up with your girlfriend, but think of it this way: you are now a member of the hottest single group of friends EVER.”

For a little back-story, I need to tell you about the Wonder Twins. If our group of friends was a sitcom, we would be called the Wonder Twins. Don’t let the name fool you into thinking it’s just two people – it’s all of us: Tim, Charles, Blake, me, Nate’ and Mike. It started as a joke because Chollie and Timmy seem to always find themselves in situations with the drama at work that you couldn’t make up if you were a mind/body hybrid of Stephen King and David Sedaris. Seriously. The stories slowly started leaking out to the rest of us, and before you know it all six of us were contributing authors to such masterpieces as the Did You Really Just… list and the Great Questions list. Examples include: “Did you really just move desks and take everything but a cloth cap and you have a massive scalp infection, which means you left a spongy headgear of highly contagious germs for the next rep to use your desk?” And (suddenly standing up out of his cube to ask) “Do they sell beer at Chuck E Cheese’s?” And “Is Iraq in Africa?”

We are fully aware that we shouldn’t be laughing at these questions, but we just can’t help it. That started a dialogue at lunch today on whether or not God is going to forgive us as we stand in front of the pearly gates. The overwhelming conclusion was: absolutely not. To which most of us shrugged and collectively said, “at least y’all will be there too!” and then we started to make another list comprised of good things we could do to negate the proverbial “shit list” Saint Peter would have waiting for us. That would more closely resemble a To-Do list and would have things like,
- Help an old lady load her groceries into her trunk. Not complain that she’s slow as hell and you just want the parking spot already
- Be a Candy-Striper. Not mess with the candy-striper by asking her to locate the room of your relative who is not checked into that hospital
- Smile unexpectedly at somebody today. Not laugh at somebody unexpectedly today
- Don’t add anything to the “Did You Really Just..” list
You know, simple things….

I don’t know how it happened, but the six of us are somehow the perfect mix of personalities to breed dysfunctional conversations, and they are always hilarious. Take, for example, the following conversation. Topic: Symmetry in double amputees. If you’re a double amputee of the lower extremities, wouldn’t you rather go for symmetry? I mean, if you’ve gotta do it wouldn’t you rather have two hips or two knees, or would you allow them to give you one of each – a hip and a knee. Just seems a little off, doesn’t it? What’s the point of having the knee? You still can’t play kickball. This launched the conversation to a whole new level. The point was quickly made that you can’t blanket the symmetry option because it doesn’t apply to arms. Why? Well, think of the simple tasks that can still be completed quite effectively with an elbow, but that would be significantly more difficult and awkward with just a shoulder: ringing a doorbell, indicating a direction (pointing), rubbing someone’s arm in consolation. You get the point – all much easier with at least an elbow.

I’m going to pause here and just say, God, I’m sorry – and I know my To-Do list needs to be much, much longer. I will also follow with: in no way, shape, or form were we trying to make fun of amputees. The point of my description is that these are the kinds of topics we often find ourselves debating - not the important international topics that one would expect young, intelligent professionals to have on the forefronts of their minds, like world hunger, big oil, how many points the DOW was up/down the previous day, etc.

All I can say is that my friends make me happy, and I love them. And regardless of how long our To-Do list gets I can at least rest assured that when/if we do make it to the pearly gates we’ll most definitely have St. Peter rolling with the story as to how we got there.

OOH! Guys, there’s another good one: “did you really just try to get into Heaven by telling Saint Peter: no really, I totally had a To-Do list!”

Drug-Induced Euphoria

Right now my dad is making the Oasis as we knew and loved them in the early 90s look like saints with as many drugs as he has coursing through his body. Don’t get me wrong, he hasn’t hit some mid-life crisis and chosen to play it out with heavy rocking and coke usage – he’s having back surgery in a week. But still, just add shot of rum to the mix and he’d be going head for head with Noel Gallagher in 1994.

Apparently my family just has shitty genes when it comes to spines. My mom has scoliosis pretty bad – she’s 5’1” and supposed to be 5’8” if that helps you visualize – I’d had two back surgeries by the time I was 22 years old, and now my dad is in so much pain he just has to lay on the sofa all day, drifting in and out of sleep. Back pain sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy in the world. I mean on the one hand I’m really happy that the doctors have agreed to let my dad get the surgery because I know (from experience) that he’ll instantly feel better after waking up with all that pressure finally off his nerves, but in the meantime he’s on a steroid pack, vicodin, and muscle relaxers to hold him over during the week between now and surgery. I just wish he wasn’t going through it. Steroid packs are enough – they make you either sick to your stomach or insatiably hungry all the time, irritable as hell, and constantly thirsty.

At least he won’t be in as much pain while he has to wait. You know, on the flip side, if I didn’t know my dad was so miserable right now it would almost be funny to see him loopy as hell from being pumped so full of various pain killers. I mean, we’re talking about the most put-together dude I’ve ever met in my life. Anyway, I have nothing profound to say about it all – only that I feel for him because I know exactly what he’s going through right now and he’s on my mind.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind

I always suspected it, but I am now completely convinced that God has an amazing (and somewhat sick) sense of humor. I'll explain.

So, if you've read my blog at all in the past year, you're well aware of my creepy neighbor saga. My friends and I lovingly refer to him by a multitude of nicknames, some of which you have read before: douche-bag, Mannequin Boy, creep-o, MFP... they go on and on. Well you should know by reading that a few months ago he was dismissed from his duties at our workplace - seize that day, ding dong Creep-O's gone, all sorts of relief ensues... Okay, keep that in mind for a minute.

So back in April I get an email at work asking if I'm available to discuss an immediate opening on a team in another one of our sites. The quick version of the story is that I say yes, interview five times, and get a job about 80 miles away at our headquarters complex. I'm stoked. I've wanted to move to that city for a really long time, and it takes me away from the other jackasses around here that I'm just tired of and who treat me like shit on a daily basis. Blake, one of my great friends already lives there and works for the same company I do and he's in the same building I'll be in and we're just beside ourselves with excitement. Then one day Blake calls me and the conversation goes like this:
Blake: oh my god Em, I want to cry
Me: oh shit, why?! (all concerned)
Blake: (says with a wavery voice like he's about to burst into tears. Joking, but very realistic and hysterical) Today, I was over at Traci's desk cuz we needed to meet about something and all of a sudden we felt a presence, you know how that happens?, and we looked up and MFP's head was poking over the cube!
Me: (shocked and appalled pause) ... holy FUCK! What did you do?!
Blake: I couldn't move! ... and he wouldn't go away. We couldn't even finish our meeting because he was just... lingering. And THEN - I got up to go back to my desk and he started FOLLOWING me and TALKING to me!
Me: OhmygodOhmygod, what did you do?!
Blake: (apparently not hearing me) he just stared at me and then said, “so I hear your partner in crime got a job down here. When does she start?”
Me: OH MY GOD YOU DIDN’T TELL HIM ANYTHING DID YOU?!?!
Blake: No, I just said, “yeah, it’s the best news I’ve had all month”… but then he followed me to my desk and I totally thought I was giving him tons of non-verbal clues to go way but he just hung around awkwardly.

So we laugh and commiserate about that for a little while and after I helped Blake find his happy place again we got off the phone and were okay… And then I got another call a few days before I was supposed to start at my new job.

Blake: guess who I saw today
Me: oh God, I don’t want to
Blake: yeah, and I have bad news
Me: ah shit…
Blake: he finally got a desk….
Me: please tell me that the bad news is that he’s next to you
Blake: he’s three cubes away from where your team sits
Me: FUCK! Are you serious?! I want to cry…
Blake: (laughing) I’m so sorry…

Yeah. So after everything I/we went through with Creep-O, it seems as though Round 2 is imminent. UN-believable. And this is why I am convinced that God has an insane sense of humor. Good news out of this is that he either doesn’t know I’ve started my new job there yet, or he can’t find where I sit – whatever the cause, I haven’t had to see him yet and that’s good news. I’ll keep you posted though. I’m sure Blake will “accidently” let it slip for sheer story value.

And so it begins… again.