Friends don’t let friends drive moving vans

Two friends

Two friends (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This is the story of how a friendship was born:

We all have different ways of dealing with stress.  Some people drink, some people turn to religion, some people become extreme couponers.  Me, I swear profusely and laugh at completely inappropriate things.  Until recently, I had my own office at work, so it wasn’t a big deal.  Then we made a new hire, and she got put in with me.  I was a little worried about this.  I’m not exactly–what’s that term?–safe for work.  Why would The Powers That Be hire a young and impressionable girl and then deliberately put her in an office with me?  I’m still not sure.  But they did.

I was good for about twenty minutes before I dropped my first expletive.  For me, that’s extremely impressive.  I’ve been known to utter sentences that contained more obscenities than non-obscenities.  I’ve crafted phrases that have used profanity as subject, verb, and object.  For a second, I was really afraid I was going to get a formal complaint.  I apologized for my impropriety.  My new officemate looked at me and said, “What?  Oh, I didn’t even notice.”

Huge f*&%ing sigh of relief!

Since then, I have learned her preferences in candy, lunch destinations, and breakfast muffins, and she has learned the true extent of my shameful addiction to caffeine as well as the depths to which I am willing to sink for the sake of making a joke.  I probably still should have been trying to behave myself around her so she wouldn’t run screaming from the office and file a complaint about the vile cretins surrounding her.  However, when you see each other at 7 AM and spend hours together going through paperwork to get a report in by the deadline, barriers tend to go down.  I was a little disturbed by the fact that she prefers Ryan Gosling to Johnny Depp, but she’s about five minutes old, so I let it pass.  JD can be too much for some people.  It’s okay.

Duct-tape Moving Van

Duct-tape Moving Van (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Officemate–she’s really more of an Office Sister at this point–moved house this past weekend, which is why I haven’t updated for a while:  I helped.  Well, I tried to help.  I’m not what you might call muscular, so I’m no good with moving furniture.  But I can pack like a champ, so that’s mostly what I did.  I packed and vacuumed.  I stayed at Office Sister’s place overnight so I could get up at dawn and pack some more.  Leading up to it, I thought, “Cool!  We’ll hang out, pack some boxes, drink some wine, make inappropriate comments when our supervisors can’t overhear–it’ll be great!”

I’m going to change my name from Little Blind Girl to Little Stupid Girl.  I know better than to think things like that.  Disaster 1:  The refrigerator Office Sister and Office Brother-in-Law ordered didn’t fit the space they had so carefully measured.  Disaster 2:  The microwave didn’t fit, either.  The freaking microwave!  Disaster 3:  Saturday evening traffic in a major metropolis.  Disaster 4:  Half a dozen people who had promised to help canceled.  Disaster 5:  God finally decided to smite us with torrential rain and intermittent tornados.  I’m not saying we didn’t deserve it, but seriously, who gets tornados when they’re moving?  And on, and on, and on.

Exhaustion, tears, the occasional natural disaster:  this is how a friendship is born.  No amount of stress at work can bind two people together quite like driving through tornados and packing away your Office Sister’s bras.  By the time the moving truck had been emptied at the new house and all the furniture had been set up, there was just no point in pretending to be refined and proper.  You can’t move house without swearing and, what’s more important, you can’t move house without revealing who you really are.  Sometimes literally, if you interrupt someone just after a shower because you’re looking for somewhere to brush your teeth and everything’s already packed up.  You just can’t help seeing each other in all your glory.

And it was pretty cool.

English: Clayton Farmhouse Drive Linking the f...

English: Clayton Farmhouse Drive (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So my Office Sister is all moved into her new home, her first actual house, and she’s the cutest thing on two legs with her funny, patient husband and her loudmouth cat (shrieked the entire way to the new house.  Hour and a half.  Oh, my God!) and I don’t even remember how many boxes of couscous we ended up unpacking.  And three different kinds of salsa.  And at least twenty pillows.  And that’s it; we’re friends.  Done.  End of story, professionalism be d%&*ed.  You can’t lay hands on someone’s lingerie and then look them in the eye without laughing.

And that’s the story of how a friendship was born.

I swear to you…

Vector drawing based on Image:Profanity.JPG En...

Vector drawing based on Image:Profanity.JPG English: swearing in cartoon Suomi: Kiroileva sarjakuvahahmo Nederlands: Schelden en vloeken in strips 粵語: 粗口 中文: 罵髒話 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Most of you who read my blog have never heard me swear.  I’m a little sad about this, because I do it really well.  By all accounts, I was born with a pronounced talent in that area, and I’ve honed that talent through many years of frustration, exasperation, and inappropriate overreaction.  I can manage to swear in just about any context, though I try to keep it to a minimum during funerals.

For instance, I walked into the office the other day and, before I’d even taken off my coat and hung up my purse, I realized I’d forgotten to do something before I left home and let out a heartfelt “M@#*f%*#!”  My officemate looked at me and said, “Really?  That’s how you’re going to start the day?”  I hung up my coat and purse and said, “You’re g@#d%*n right!”  Without any warm-up at all.  It was impressive.

I’ve been considering this for a while, and I’ve come to an important decision:  I’ve decided to turn pro.  Agents have been contacting me for a while with offers, and a number of sponsors have expressed interest.  I’ve turned down several offers from HBO, though I was tempted.  I just didn’t feel that I was ready yet.  But now I think I’ve got my swearing to such a high level of consistency that I believe I’m ready for the spotlight.  I feel good about this.

It’s been a long time coming.  I’ve been competing in the amateur leagues since I was a teenager.  In college, my profanity during the exam period reached legendary heights.  They still tell stories about me to this day.  My thesis on The Evolution of Expletives in Anglo-Saxon Literature has become the leading work in its field.  Once I hit the workforce, the sheer complexity of my obscenity blew away the competition.  Office meetings, conferences, late night projects; I cursed them all.

It’s time, I think.  I wanted to share with all of you this important decision in my life.  When you’re watching me at the Swearing and Hateful Imprecations Tournament, I want you all to know that your support is a big part of what has brought me this far.  See you in the winner’s circle!  You may want to bring your earplugs.  I’m just that good.