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Puttin' the FUN in dys-FUN-ctional!!

It's the holidays! Time for Ding Fries Are Done!

Wednesday, Jan. 04, 2006
Perfume and Lazy Bastards....

Thanks to everyone who responded to my pity party, letting me know that I am read and I am loved. Y'all are great and I'm sorry for the fishing expedition.


So we have this smoking area in the lower parking garage at work. The Management was nice enough to add a few benches to make it easier for us to lounge around, but when it's really chilly outside and, worse, windy, there is a little corner we can stand in that has miraculous Anti Wind Properties (ohhh, to have this power when we have meetings with The Farter!!) Anyway, management was, once again, nice enough to accomodate us. They stuck a little bucket in our corner and half-filled it with sand...a make-shift ashtray. We could not have been more grateful.


Friggin' people (typically non-smokers and those with overwhelming 'issues' with authority) started using it as a trash can. And by 'using' I mean filling it to overflowing with their empty fast food wrappers and king-size drink cups and water bottles and newspapers and you NAME it, it was in there. This is made all the more offensive by the fact that there are not one, but TWO huge trash cans (huge enough, in fact, that just ONE of them could hold no less than 3 dead bodies (if folded properly, of course, and who CARES how I know that??) roughly 20 feet away from our little corner bucket. Said trash cans are between our Anti Wind Zone Corner and the stairs that lead up to the office building. These lazy fucktards didn't want to have to walk past the stairs to toss something in the trash, then walk back (10 feet) to the stairs, so they just toss their crap in our teeny little ashtray, meaning we can't put our cigs out without starting a gawdam FIRE. Jerks.

And don't worry, we have all discussed the fact that some of these people are passive-aggressively letting us know just how much they disapprove of our 'habit' which, you know, have a tall glass of Fuck Right Off, but ALL of them can't be acting in such a manner for that same purpose. No way. And besides: Free Effin Country, people! We don't smoke in the offices, we don't smoke in restaurants or ANY buildings other than our homes anymore, we go down many many stairs and into the area with CAR EXHAUST to engage in our little habit, and we don't complain a bit about it, so don't EVEN go there.

Anyway, for months now I have been swearing to myself (and all who would lend an ear) that I was going to post a sign above the bucket letting people know just how NOT a trash can this object was. Buuuuut, by the time I got back upstairs from a quickie smoke, I got busy with work again and would forget all about it until the next time I had a smoke and would then promise myself AGAIN to write the damned sign, would go so far as to make mental notes (uhhhhhahahahhaha, as though THAT would do any good!) and I even got to the point of singing it in a song to myself on the walk up the stairs and to the elevator inside the building, but then I'd get in the elevator (which has lots o' mirrors in it) and would be shocked by how pretty my own self looked in THIS lighting in the elevator and WOW my makeup looks GREAT today! and the Bring Sign for Ashtray Assheads song would trail off absently and I would instead start mentally drawing up the House Bill that would put into law the fact that the entire world's lighting (and, perhaps later, the SUN ITSELF) should be dimmed to this exACT lighting scheme, because if *I* can look good in that lighting what with my big ole pores and growing pimple and freakin' hair cowlick that has reinserted itself into my life?? SHIT, man, then EVERYONE can!

So yeah...I'd forget.

Yesterday, however, I remembered. Yay me!

Click here to view the sign I posted and was OH-SO-PROUD of. Sadly the thing was removed within a few hours. By whom? I cannot say. I'd like to think that it wasn't the sweet little old maintenance guy that loves to talk sports with George...the same guy I was all defensive about and wrote the sign for in the FIRST place. No, I preferred to imagine it was, instead, one of the lazy bastards themselves and was not only crumpled into a ball and tossed into said Not Even CLOSE to a Trash Can, but subsequently lit on FIRE.


ohhh what a great ...sorta... start to my day. It happened around lunch time but has wrecked the REST of the day...does that count??

Here is the email I sent to several friends and coworkers about my ordeal. If you have any suggestions on fixing this problem, please forward them, post-haste, to [email protected]

    Ohhhh, people help me,

    I know this is silly, but I have to ask: does anyone know of a good way to remove a cologne/perfume stain from a silk blouse??

    For those who have five additional minutes, here is why I need to know:

    I went to Ulta on my lunch break to buy some Tommy Girl with my Christmas gift card (yay mom!) especially since George is home sick and that is the best time to go since he absolutely inSISTS on coughing and hacking LOUDLY whenever I force him to shop there with me. Oh, but it doesn�t end there...no that would be too NICE of him. Uh-uh...he further exacerbates the situation by also scrunching up his face, squinting his eyes (as though there is just a HAZE of cologne permeating his vision) and he may just be BLINDED for LIFE and he will lock his knees and start stumbling and acting like there�s a high likelihood of shelves being knocked over and will dramatically wave his arms around.... all of this to denote to the shop staff (and anyone around us) that the store smells overpoweringly girly and he is oh. so. offended. and will be dying of Toxic Perfume Inhalation Syndrome in approximately 42 seconds.

    It is NOT a fun experience.

    So anyway, I ran over on my lunch break and was looking for the Tommy Girl bottle and while searching I saw a bottle of Poison. "Awwww!" I think in my head "I haven�t smelled Poison since 1982!" so I squirt it in the air (forgetting about gravity) and it drifts down onto my person. No biggie...it�s just a little bit. I finally find the Tommy Girl, make my purchase and head out to the car. Before I get into my vehicle, I decide to check the bottle, remembering that one time some snotty kid thought it�d be hilarious to switch out the bottles in the hair color aisle (hello Purple Haired Gracie!) and I am taking NO chances and I see that it is the right bottle, but looks a little different than I remember so I open the bottle to sniff it, just to make sure.


    WHY am I so dumb?

    Turns out the bottle was broken. See I was not expecting THAT, so I used a bit of force when pulling on the lid. This meant that Tommy Girl went spilling all over my purse, my shirt, my hands, my shoes, and the hood of my car. Ohhhh what a joy.

    While I am thrilled that the manager let me exchange the defective (and demonic) bottle for a �good� one, she gave me (what I have decided is) lame advice about the shirt. She said, rather dismissively, "Oooooh, it happens to me ALL THE TIME! It�ll wash right out!"

    See, I doubt her. A lot. This is a silk shirt and, when the cologne spilled all over my hands? It felt reeeeally oily and slimy and it�s been well over an hour and that stain has not dried up a bit. It looks like I squirted myself, about an INCH beneath my bra line, with baby oil. Sob. I looked at her with dog-like head tilting, a half-smile that conveys uncertainty, and disbelieving eye scrunching and her reply to all this? "Way-uhl, 'least ya SMELL pretty, hon!"


    So here I am, smelling like Poisoned Tommy, migraine firmly in place, and with a naughty stain or 4 on my shirt and time is tick-tick-ticking away and the stain is setting more and more and because it�s silk I am scared to do anything to it.

    I�ve done a little bit of searching online and the only things I found were:

    • Squirt a lemon on it
    • Sprinkle with baby powder
    • Use a SHOUT Wipe
    • Sprinkle with baking soda
    • Try Goo-B-Gone (though this was on a trucking site, so IIIIII think I'll just be ignoring that one)
    • Lick It!
    • Take a man�s silk tie, squirt it with a stain protector, then rub THAT on your SHIRT a few days later
    • Throw the thing away
    • Don�t listen to dry cleaners or the clothing labels that say not to wash anything yourself. You�re an adult! You can DO IT!
    • Rub it with alcohol
    • NEVER rub silk with ANYTHING EVER or you will DIE!


    Help me! Whaddoo-I-Dooooo?



Check back tomorrow for the latest inquiry to our Advice Column and wherein George proves that Gracie = Crazy Bitch.

P.S., Do YOU have a question you need answered? If we get enough (serious) questions and this becomes a regular feature on the site, I will start sending gifts from the Angst Store to those whose questions are printed. And yes, I will send them to the past posters of questions, as well, but only if y'all get off your tushies and start sending true dilemmas our way!


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Last 5 Entries:

How Much Are YOU Worth? - Sunday, Jan. 08, 2006

Perfume and Lazy Bastards.... - Wednesday, Jan. 04, 2006

Like Poop Through a Goose.... - Saturday, Dec. 31, 2005

Bling and Bullets.... - Thursday, Dec. 29, 2005

Get Into The Frickin Spirit.... - Friday, Dec. 23, 2005

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