Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Rage Emails at Work

Sara sent Lindsay an email whining about work being boring or harder now that she's been given a promotion. Actually, I don't remember what the context was for this email, I'm just speculating. I'd say 75% of the email exchanges between Lindsay and Sara begin as rage emails because what we want to say in real life is supposedly "socially unacceptable."

Lindsay: Well go home and have a whiskey. Jesse just finished his paleo challenge and turned in report cards so he is having one tonight!

Sara: I will. I might just get kind of silly by myself and be pathetic.


For Christmas, Lindsay got Dad the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo Trilogy. Naturally, she read them first. Seriously though. Read those books. 

Lindsay: Dad is going to give you the 3rd Girl With The Dragon Tattoo book so you can bring it down on Sunday. If you forget it I will CUT you. 

Sara: Not going to happen. I will intentionally leave it on my balcony.

Now that I actually have to interact with people at work on a regular basis…I really need to not be such a raging cunt in the morning. I don’t say anything, but any time anyone says pretty much anything to me before 10 all I can think in my head is “I want to fucking stab you right in your stupid goddamn fucking face.” Regardless of whether or not they’re actually bothering me. It’s a problem.

Lindsay: Meh. As long as you don't ACTUALLY say it. People might figure out that you're not a morning person and leave you alone until 10am though. So maybe you should keep this up. 

Sara: That’s true. And it would be nice if I could somehow get that to be an unspoken policy with people. Maybe I’ll try operant conditioning? I should get some chocolate.

Lindsay: OOOOOOH. I like that. Psychological experimenting on unsuspecting co-workers. It's like we're real life super villains.

I got an email yesterday from Sara raging about some asshat she had to deal with who clearly is an expert in passive-aggressive-beat-around-the-bush communication techniques.

Sara: So one of the accounts I took over for is ______ and the account manager is down in ______. Last week he asked me to get a quote for a computer (which isn’t something we normally get quotes for). I got one from the distributor that sells laptops. Sent it over to him.

He said they needed some things changed. So I requested the change. Didn’t hear from the distributor for a few follow ups. Just now he calls me (a good 3 hours after I sent him the quote) and says that it needs to be changed yet again and gets all in my business about how he needs it today and blah blah blah. Keep in mind, our distributor is in Colorado so by the time he called me they are done for the day. 



Sara: Not so much that…but just TELL me what you want! I’ve now sent you 3 quotes based on EXACTLY what you told me you wanted, and each time you send it back for some sort of change and are getting irritated with me as if I should a) know what you want without you telling me or b) have done this before and be able to talk RAM and hard drive space with a fucking distributor. Please don’t get irritated with me because you can’t ask a question correctly. 

Lindsay: I know. I just thought a donkey wearing a hard hat was funny. You're dealing with the government remember. Most government employees are about as efficient and competent at their jobs as sacks of poop.

Sara: No, I’m dealing with a coworker. That’s who I’m dealing with. 

Lindsay: Well in that case, tell him to say what he means, get to the point, and quit talking to you like a Dandy.

Sara: Another guy came in here to give me a hard time over something, and I turned around (joking, btw) and said “I am SO done with you people not telling me what you want and then storming into my cube to tell me I did it wrong. It’s Monday! I cannot deal with you being incompetent!” Except I think he thought I was serious and was all like “We don’t know what we’re doing either, it’s fine!” 

Lindsay: See? Donkey with a hard hat. 

Sara: You're a donkey with a hard hat. 

Lindsay: False. My job is so easy I know exactly what I am doing at all times. 

From Sara to Mom, Dad, and Lindsay. Sara and Mom have been trying for a really long time to get my Dad to try pho, and he's just never shown any interest. Keep in mind that my mother kept my Dad CC'd in this conversation. 

Sara: Apparently Dad likes pho now that EVERYONE else at work got him to go and try it. I'm so mad at him.

Mom: You can’t be serious? I love Pho and I always want to make it, and he always turns his nose up at it. What a little bitch

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Who wants some pickled green beans?

Last weekend, Jesse and Lindsay made the trek up to Mukilteo from Auburn to come for a visit, and Sara also dropped in on the afternoon as well. We had a nice, wholesome afternoon of beer drinking, cussing, and our Uncle M. even came over to play some music before dinner. 

Every summer, Mom and Dad visit Dad's Uncle Ed up on the Tulalip reservation and they can a shitload of pickles and pickled green beans. Mom had just had hand surgery when they did this last year, and she fucked up the recipe so everything came out saltier than the Dead Sea. When you open a new can, you have to pour out half the brine and fill it back up with water to make everything taste right.
Lindsay: *eating green beans* 
Dad: Yeah, eat those pickled green beans up. They're super salty and I don't like them. This last batch Kathy made was shitty.
Mom: Well, when we made the last batch, I had just had hand surgery and I think my mind was still kind of fucked up on painkillers.
Dad:  Your mind is always fucked up.
Mom: You're just...all fucked up.
Lindsay: That escalated quickly.
Dad: Gee, what a nice house.

Lindsay and Sara began bickering about something, and Jesse, always the instigator...
Jesse: Take it into the backyard!
Sara: I bet I could take Lindsay not.
Dad: Yah, I'm still putting $20 on Lenslay during a knuckle rodeo - even pregnant.
Sara: I don't even get an advantage when Lindsay is pregnant?!
Jesse: Maybe in like, 2 months when she's really huge and waddling like this. *sticks out his arms and waddles like a penguin*
Mom: Yeah, and her balance will be off so you could just push her over with your finger.
Jesse: Yah! she'll be like a turtle on it's back!
Sara: *Looks at Lindsay like "see how it feels?"*

A little later, our favorite Uncle came over to jam with us. He and Jesse play guitar and Sara and Lindsay sing.
M: Don't you think Jesse and I play well together?
Sara: No, I think you guys sound like shit.
M: I'm going to hit you and I'm going to hit you hard.
Sara: *Cackles*
M: You know, my blood pressure is high and you're not helping!
Dad from across the room: How's your dick pressure?!
Lindsay: What the fuck does that even mean?
(Sara: Lindsay...pretty sure we all know what that means. I'm sure Jesse can explain it to you)

I had been awhile since we had all jammed together for shits and giggles and we were talking about how nice it was to do it again, and how we should really try to make more of an effort to get music into our lives on a semi-regular basis.
M: You'll be calling me up to play music from now on, I know. You'll be calling me up yelling "fuck! I need my fix!"
Sara: You make us sound like crack heads.
Lindsay: Well, Sara has a drinking problem.
Sara: *while sipping a beer* It's true.
M: And Brock can't hear.
Dad: *from the other room* What?

Mom was making cioppino for dinner, and she tends to talk out loud to no one in particular when she cooks. She dropped this sophisticated culinary phrase on us.
Mom: OK, I'm going to start seasoning and shit.

During dinner...
Mom: You know what I want for my birthday?
Dad: A new husband?
Mom: <thinks about it> No! All men are the same, they just come in different packages.
Dad: *raises his hand* But I'm a good vacuumer!
Jesse: It's true Kathy, I've vacuumed with Brock before. 

Dad: Just let Taco** lick your hands and your pants. You'll feel all sorts of better.
*everyone snickers*
Dad: I know I always feel better when Taco licks my pants.
**Taco is Dad's nickname for Tucker. In case you don't get the licking pants reference, go here. If you've met Tucker, you know about this.

After dinner, while cleaning up...
Dad *toot*
Sara: Did you just fart on me?
Dad: I didn't hit you with it!
Lindsay: Jesse farts in Tucker's face all the time.
Jesse: I do.
Mom: Thank you for sharing.
Lindsay: He does!
Dad: I used to do it to Mika all the time. She loved it.
Jesse: So does Tucker!
*all of the women exchange looks*

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Just for you Darren...

Darren: Damn, I always miss out on a chance to be part of an upcoming Brower's blog...