Erica — Wait, did you just say, “Shark-uh-nado”?
Angela– That was my favorite singer in the 90s – Shark-uh-nado Connor.
Erica — Wait, did you just say, “Shark-uh-nado”?
Angela– That was my favorite singer in the 90s – Shark-uh-nado Connor.
Call me weird, but I don’t like bugs and I don’t like snakes. I can respect their places in the circle of life, or what have you, but I want them to take care of that away from me. Recently, it seems like The Universe has decided that I should get a bit closer to bugs and snakes. I have no idea what I did to make The Universe so mad at me, but yeesh!
At work, there have been sightings of a snake that’s at least four feet long. Ron came back from a trip to the bathroom one day and told me about seeing this giant snake outside. I. Freaked. Out. I know, not a very mature response. In my defense, I did not develop the fear that I had of snakes until I had depression. At that point, I would regularly have nightmares and night terrors about snakes. So, though my fear is still illogical, it’s not the most ridiculous thing about me, by far.
After a few minutes, people from other departments started hearing about the snake and went outside to look at it. One guy eventually threw it into the fake pond we have at work and it swam away. The snake “experts” at work continue to argue about whether it’s a water moccasin or some other kind of non-poisonous snake. I inadvertently caught a glimpse of it while trying to help one coworker send other coworkers video of the snake encounter and did not notice the diamond-shaped head associated with many poisonous snakes, but I still don’t want to go make friends with it.
Ron saw the snake again the day that I wrote this post 😦 😦 😦 If the snake and geese won’t stay away, then I want the geese and the snake to finish each other off so that I don’t have to deal with any of them again. I’m scared to walk to my car, especially on day like today – wet and rainy. What if the snake attacks me in the garage?!?!?! I know it’s not likely, but neither is cutting yourself on pantyhose, and I’ve managed to do that twice now.
Snake At Work
Then, there are the bugs. I’m not talking about cute little lady bugs or lucky crickets. No. I’m taking about two-inch-long waterbugs swimming around in the toilets at work like they’re swimming pools that we had installed just for them. I’m talking about scorpions that hide in trash cans at your boyfriend’s parents house. In the case of the waterbugs, I’m not sure what’s going on with the bathrooms upstairs at work. I gave up on them a month after finding them because they always had crowds or remnants of crowds that didn’t understand how sinks, toilets, paper towels, or used toilet paper work. I kept finding crushed dead waterbugs and other insects in there. Last Friday, two coworkers found two giant waterbugs swimming around in two different toilets (one in the men’s room, one in the ladies’ room.) Gross!
This weekend, at the farm, we had a run-in with a couple of scorpions. Ben’s parents had just sprayed some repellent, so we’re thinking that it just stirred up the scorpions, who were probably trying to make their way out of the house. It was just unfortunate timing considering my paranoia with non-human and/or non-fuzzy mammals as of late. Oddly enough, the scorpion incidents bothered me the least. (I say that, but now one’s going to sting me in the eye. *sigh*)
Living in Texas, I know that there’s going to be a constant battle with all kinds of terrifying and gross creatures. I know that I’m usually going to be the only one as bothered by them as I am. Everyone else is from the country and is hardcore. Great, good for them! They can take care of all the critters for me as I try to not have asthma attacks and keep my heart from beating out of my chest. I admit that I’m a wimp and that I’m weird and that I should be more afraid of walking home from Deep Ellum on a Saturday night (which I did as a teenager, fearing only the possibility of not making it home in time for curfew) than I am of all these varmints out here. Still, I’m scared of anything that doesn’t meow or bark. So, I will be more than happy to step aside while the other 99.9% of everyone in Texas handles them for me. *shudders* Ugh.
When we moved into the new building at work, my team assumed we’d have access to squirrels. We planned to train one to be our official Attack Squirrel. We named him Chompers. We had plans.
When we got to the new building, Erica began putting food outside of our windows to try to sweeten up Chompers and train him faster. The squirrels were so cute with their wee li’l hands and their chubby little tummies, but, man alive, were those squirrels dumb. Chompers repeatedly ran away from the food we laid out for him as the crows swooped in behind him to eat the food. (To clarify, we just call every squirrel we see, “Chompers”. I know it’s racist, but all squirrels look the same to us.) We tried to scare the crows away by banging on the tinted glass windows when they came up, but they quickly learned that we were all bark and no bite.*
Eventually, Erica gave up on Chompers and decided to try to make the crows her minions. Besides, the intelligence of crows is well documented. Erica began leaving Fritos and snacks for the crows, who didn’t waste time eating the food. Ron named them, “Squawky” . (We’re all crow racists, too.) Over time, Erica began to worry about Squawky’s salt intake. So, she bought a box of generic Cheerios to make sure he had a heart healthy diet. Squawky doesn’t show his appreciation much, but he has definitely come to expect food from us. He taps on the windows if there’s no food outside. When we go outside to walk to the cafe, he’ll squawk at us. I’m not sure if it’s his way of saying, “Hey guys! Good morning!”, “I’m hungry! Feed me, Seymour!”, or “Caw! I’m a bird! Caw!” I just know that it’s very entertaining.
When Erica was out recently, Squawky came by to get some food. He flew away when he realized there was none. I went outside to drop off some generic Cheerios as Squawky complained the whole time to one of the ducks. When I came back to my desk, Squawky flew down to get his Cheerios. Some of the Cheerios fell by goose poop, and he steered clear of it. He knew there was plenty of safe cereal to eat. Good ol’ Squawky! Such a smart sonofagun! Ron said, “I got you to like Squawky. Now, I just gotta get you to like the geese.” I explained that that would never happen because I can admire a crow’s intellect while being annoyed with its intellect, but geese are pure evil.
Unlike the geese, Squawky doesn’t try to attack innocent civilians. He also doesn’t leave poop the size of a chihuahua all over the sidewalks. Unlike Chompers, Squawky entertains us with his rapid adaptations to our food games. Much like us, he talks all the time about nothing in particular. So, even though we had high hopes for Chompers, Erica and I are okay with having a smart crow that politely asks for generic Cheerios. You take what you can get sometimes.
*Don’t go up against crows unless you hide your identity. They never forget. Ever.
Angela– Warren G, didn’t die, right? Just Nate Dogg?
Angela– Wait, did Warren G die?!
[five minutes later]
Ron– [talking about Chris Evans] He was in some movie, but I can’t remember the name. It had something to do with these soldiers…It wasn’t The Expendables, but something like that maybe?
Erica– Oh! Not The Expendables? Was it The Expendables 2?!
Angela — Every time the devil farts, a goose is born
Ronicala — *laughter*
Erica– Why don’t you go outside, Ron, and feed the geese since you like them so much?
Ron — Why don’t you come with me? What are you afraid of?
Erica and Angela — The geese!
You know how you have in-jokes with different people? Since I spend most of my time working and I work with a really great group of people, we have alot of jokes…mostly about other people at work. We started joking about making a bingo game out of these jokes. Then, the joke became a reality!
We refer to it as Change Management (the name of our team) Bingo, even though the Performance Assurance team and Ben are now playing the game with us. Others have requested to join, but they have been turned away. However, we let other people alert of us of bingo squares, if they so choose. Yesterday, one guy said he was going to make it his goal to be an entire bingo all by himself.
We even have a trophy that’s company-approved. Carla’s husband won it for, I dunno, doing work or something. He left here to work for another company and was throwing out stuff with our company logo on it. Carla saved the top part of the trophy because it was really nice and didn’t have her husband’s name or the company name on it. So, it’s our new bingo trophy.
The game first started two weeks ago, and we all thought that “Superhero t-shirt” would be one of the first squares called. Four games later, not a single person has worn a superhero t-shirt! In a building filled with nerds, this really is an anomaly. Other things happen so often that we’ve had to create a Bingo Advisory Board that rules on the cheaty-ness of events. Wednesday, we had a BAB meeting because I did something that could have been a bingo square, but since I did it, we weren’t sure if it counted. I did it unintentionally, so, the BAB agreed that it would count this time, but not in the future. Ron lobbied pretty hard for that even though the decision did not benefit him at all.
Playing CM Bingo has been a real team building experience. I’ve learned that my team has excellent morals and they love to make fun of people. At first, I wasn’t sure that everyone would be on board with it, but they really seem to be enjoying themselves. William doesn’t play, but the most team building he does in any given week is IM Erica and me to tell us that he thinks Ron is doing a much better job than the other weirdos that had Ron’ s position before. Most importantly, my Filipino mother will be incredibly proud that I have found a way to incorporate Bingo into my work day. Living the dream!
Well, well, well, if it isn’t me again. It’s been awhile since I last wrote, I know. It’s mostly due to lack of time. I used to have a very structured life with lots of routines, but it was very empty. If I had a lack of time, it was usually because I was so depressed that all I could do was sleep. When I came out of my depression phases, I had to “catch up” on life. Now, my life is very full, but there’s not much structure or routine. I’m fine with that, though. Ben continually apologizes for messing up my routines, but I keep reassuring him that losing my routines is a very small sacrifice for all the good stuff in my life now.
All that being said, I’ve had some recent changes at work that also allow me a bit of spare time during the day to write a few sentences here and there for this blog. Yay!
So, I delayed writing a blog post for awhile because I had to think of something to say again. So much has happened and there are so many funny stories to share, but that just seems overwhelming. Then, I remembered, this is just a blog and my
mom followers probably won’t be as critical of this post as I am of theirs it.
Though this post won’t publish until Saturday, I’m actually starting it on Mardi Gras aka Fat Tuesday. At lunch today, Ron mentioned to us that it was Fat Tuesday and I was sad that I didn’t eat more. My goal is to make up for it at dinner. I mean, every Tuesday is fat Tuesday for me, but this is Fat Tuesday, like, with both first letters in both words capitalized. Granted, I don’t observe Lent, but at least I half-ass celebrate something, right?
Let me tell you about my friend, Ron. He’s filling a position in our group that, since I have been there, has only been filled by crazy a-holes. Ron is super cool, though. He gets the group’s weird humor and is sharp as a tack. He’s also from da skreets like me. He and Erica are actually closer than he and I are. I started calling them Ronica last week. The three of us, though, are Ronicagela, which was too much, so we shortened it to Ronicala, which is still too much. We were joking last week about getting a Best Friends necklace that was broken into 3 parts. I still have at least one of those from when Erica and I were kids. Erica bought us an Oreo cookie necklace to share – Ron and I are cookies and she’s the filling (because we’re Black and she’s White and we’re all racist.)
So, this is not a particularly interesting post, I suppose, but it’s definitely laying the groundwork for future Ronicala stories. Here is a short list of other topics I considered discussing:
1. The Minecraft birthday party we planned for Ben’s son this weekend
2. The steady stream of illnesses I’ve had since I started dating Ben aka Building my immune system after years of being isolated and alone
3. Getting stuck in Paris and spending $3000 on a flight home (I spent $1175 on the original RT ticket from US Airways and got $382 of it refunded. I only had to file for a refund twice. Boo!) Speaking of Paris, here is a link to the photos I took while there.
Thanks for reading my return to blogdom!
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