And so it continues...

Well after a little bit of a respite there (not from CCL, of course…just one from writing about her), I am back.  And with a fresh story about CCL.

For the last couple of weeks, our office bathrooms have been going through a total renovation.  So, if one needs to use the restroom, they must either take the stairs or elevator to another floor in the building.  There are two sets of stairs in our building; one is a contained interior style—your typical stairwell—while the other is an exterior open style made of steel and concrete.  It’s got a modern feel to it & allows you to see above and below you a bit more than the interior set does.

As you can imagine, while the last couple of weeks have been filled with bathroom remodeling noises, they’ve also included another annoying noise: CCL’s constant complaints of having to go to another floor to use the restroom.  Last week she made it a point to say daily, “it is such a pain to have to schedule your bathroom trips every day.”  There is no schedule or calendar for the bathroom usage, so I have no clue as to why she’d have to schedule them for herself.  Today she called it “cruel and unusual punishment” and said that since she’s watched “This Old House”, she thinks she can help the builders complete the job a little faster.  (Her attempt at humor.)  After returning from the restroom, she stopped by and said, “I have figured out why I get so nervous coming down the outside stairs from the second floor.  I’m fine walking up, but coming down gets me anxious.  It’s because of my fear of heights and not because I fear the concrete.”  I wanted to ask why she’d have a fear of concrete, but I held my tongue.  Then she said, “As you’re coming down, if you look to the right you can see the platform and one flight of stairs below you, which you can’t see in the inside stairwell.”

My reply: “Then look left, take the elevator or use the other flight of stairs.  Easy fix.”

She did not seem to appreciate my proposed solution (I think she was frustrated that there wasn’t a thing within my suggestion that she could reasonably argue) and mumbled some final complaint as she stalked off.  This was, of course, not her first visit of the day.  Nor the first time today she was frustrated with my replies. 

When I first got to work, a lightning-filled rain storm momentarily knocked out the building’s power.  My laptop was booting up the first time it happened & while it was booting, I was texting Doc.  As soon as the power loss happened, I added a prediction to my text to Doc: CCL would shortly be coming to my desk to vocalize some complaint about the power flicker.  Sure enough, she shuffled right on over.

She said, “You people with your laptops suck.  I have a lowly desktop and it reboots itself each time the power flickers.”

I said, “It disconnects my laptop from the network and the thing won’t reconnect until I reboot, so we’re in the same boat regardless of the computer type.” 

I had zero sympathy for her situation, as we were each inconvenienced by the exact same event.  The difference between us---well, one among many (gratefully)—is that I don’t feel that my problems, no matter how small & insignificant to the average person they may be, are 100000% worse than anyone else’s.  It is not my first assumption, nor my second.  But, that is not the way of CCL.  Her first assumption is that because she experienced it, it was the worst thing on earth and no one else could possibly understand how tough it is.  Even if they experienced it too.  (Her most common saying in general & particularly when anyone complains near her: “Welcome to my world.”) 

I may be evil, but I will admit that I find a tremendous amount of joy in shooting down her self-pity moments by pointing out that a given issue is not exclusive to her alone.  Oh that provides such a tremendous amount of joy indeed!  Her negativity is absolutely draining and so any moment it can be lessened is a wonderful moment.

Meanwhile, she just capped off the day by coming by to say good night…and to complain that her dad forgot to come pick her up, so she’s late leaving.  She said her blood sugar level was screwed up this morning (she’s diabetic).  On those days (incidentally, they typically occur only when she doesn’t have anything large in her life to complain about), she has her dad drive her to and from work.  This also provides another opportunity to complain about something, as he’s NEVER arrived at the exact time she wants him to be.  It doesn’t matter if he’s early or late—either presents major issues that then require a day of complaints.  So, she was able to get that in today too. 

In one positive note, she did say earlier today that she helped her dad use up three Groupons this weekend.  The negative side of that was that she complained about two of the three places & recommended I avoid them at all cost.  In reality, they are probably amazing places, so I’ll be checking them out soon…

DND.

First, before I get into the latest CCL fun, I must share that her predictable predictability came into play again yesterday—twice.  The first time was when I wore a striped polo.  Within a few minutes of me being at the office, she stopped by and said, “Wearing prison garb again are we?”  I said, “Yes.  I just got it.”  She said, “Oh, so you’re buying more prison garb then?”  [Sometimes I’d really like to just slap her. Hard.]  The next moment happened later in the afternoon, when she overheard a manager mention that the company would be providing lunch for the office during a long meeting today.  CCL is a nightmare when it comes to ordering food for the office.  She doesn’t like any type of food [which is well disguised by the fact she’s bordering on morbidly obese] and she whines about any option you state.  It always goes something like this:

CCL: “What are we having for lunch tomorrow?”

Me: “Barbecue.”

CCL: “From where?”

Me: “The usual place.”

CCL: “What are we having with it?”

Me: “The usual—fried chicken, potatoes, slaw…”

CCL: “STOP!  You had me until ‘slaw’.  I don’t like slaw.”

Me: “I know.  So don’t put it on your plate.”

CCL: “Why don’t we ever have anything I like?”

[Again, I want to slap her.  Harder.]

The other thing about food & CCL is that she’s the first one to run in the kitchen to load up her plate and repeatedly asks me later if there are leftovers.  It’s enough to drive a person to drink.  Anyway, yesterday when she heard that the company was providing lunch, she shouted over the cube wall & interrupted a conversation to say, “FROM WHERE?  WHAT ARE WE ORDERING?”  As soon as she found the website for the place, she came right over to me and told me the one item on their menu that she would consider eating.  As if it matters to me.  AND, the funniest part was that she was first in line today & had plenty more than just that one item on her plate.  Bless her.

Meanwhile, on to the real purpose of my post: the Do Not Disturb signs.

About three years ago, we as an office of 35-40 people had a problem with two people on the floor, one of which was CCL.  Due to CCL’s non-stop whining and complaining, she was delaying a lot of work from being done.  She’d camp out in someone’s cube & complain about every single thing under the sun & then move onto the next cube to do the exact same thing.  The other person was just obnoxious & while she and CCL shared the same trait of not knowing when to leave, this other person would interrupt phone calls and conversations.  It got to be too much & management had enough, so they had me create large “PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB” signs that I then distributed to everyone on the floor.  When that sign is hung at the entrance to a person’s cube, the common rule is that you’re to email that person to let them know you need them.  Even if they’re not on a call or talking to someone, they may be deeply involved in a project and they don’t have time to be interrupted.  The sign was to be used only when necessary so that it wasn’t an overly used solution & would be taken seriously.  For example, if someone has their DND sign up all day every day, odds are that people are going to eventually interrupt that person & then that same mentality will carry over to those who are using their signs only as needed.  CCL has missed all of these concepts.

When using the sign herself, CCL will use it to try to have everyone know that she’s busy & overwhelmed (a fact which she goes around telling everyone, just to be sure they don’t miss her sign).  When she feels particularly stressed, she takes post-it notes and covers the “PLEASE” part of the sign.  In more extreme moments, she adds a post-it note to the bottom of the sign that threatens bodily harm to anyone who disturbs her.  Those are always fun days.

In my position, I deal a lot with management, who are pretty much exempt from having to follow the sign’s rules.  Most try to respect that you need to not be disturbed, but they know that if they do need something they can interrupt.  I’m fine with that.  What I’m not fine with is that CCL has seemingly added herself to the list of exemptions.  At first she’d walk by and say, “Look! I’m not disturbing you…”  [Idiot.]  Then she’d start venturing in & saying things like, “I know you don’t want to be disturbed, but…”  Now, the concept of the entire thing escapes her as it pertains to everyone else on the floor—but Lord be with the person who disturbs her when her sign is up.  (Usual response from her is an angry “Um, hello?  Did you not see that my sign is up?”)  Today’s reaction from her to my sign was the best so far though. 

I was conducting a conference call & put up my sign.  CCL was in another area of the floor & didn’t know I was going to be conducting a call.  For all she knew I just needed uninterrupted time to work on a presentation.  Anyway, after the conference call I forgot to take it down for maybe five minutes after I’d hung up.  By then CCL was back in the area & I was just working away.  So what did she do?  She came on over & said, “You haven’t had your ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign up in a while.”  Again, she didn’t know why I had the sign up in the first place, so she would’ve been completely interrupting me had I meant to still have it up.  And why was she interrupting me?  Just to tell me she hadn’t seen me not want to be interrupted for some time!  She had absolutely nothing else to share with me at that moment (though she’s since returned to tell me I’m her moral compass & asked if her envisioning a particular manager being murdered is as bad as actually committing the murder…gee, I wonder?). 

Nothing like needlessly being disturbed by the disturbed!

Predictably predictable.

I’d like to say I’m a completely spontaneous and unpredictable person.  But I’m not.  However, I’m also not the most predictable person on earth either.  That position is occupied by CCL, who is predictably the most predictable person one could ever meet.

Today, for instance, Doc met me at my office so we could go have lunch at the restaurant next door.  While eating, CCL went walking by on the sidewalk next to the windows where we were seated.  (Predictably, she had her brown t-shirt and brown polyester pants on today, complete with five-year-old safety pin hemming.)  I said to Doc, “Oh, I bet she’s going to the cupcake shop.  And when I get back to the office, she’ll attack & get after me for having not been around to talk her out of going to get a cupcake.”  (CCL has diabetes & couldn’t care less about managing it.  It wouldn’t matter if I duct taped her to her chair, no amount of input from me is going to stop her from going for a cupcake.  But she still likes to pretend like it will.) 

I finished up my delicious lunch & headed back to the office.  I was back for maaaaaaaaybe 2 minutes when CCL came around the corner and said, “There you are.  I came looking for you and you weren’t here.  You were supposed to talk me out of going to get a cupcake.”  I did my obligatory (predictable?) fake chuckle and the usual “oh, sorry” comments, which always result in even more discussion from CCL, despite my comments not remotely being a question or seemingly implying that I want to continue any sort of interaction with her.  Yet, on she goes until my feigned interest wanes enough to finally send a hint for her to go back to her own desk.  It’s a never ending battle.

Last night I thought I’d actually got out of the whole faux interest thing, as CCL seemed to be leaving the office in a hurry.  But that was too good to be true.  Instead, she made sure she stopped by to tell me how she was going home to cuddle with her cats and watch TV.  There are only so many responses a person can give that: “Fun.” “Interesting.” “Oh.” “Enjoy.” “You’re bizarre.”  Yet, somehow CCL manages to take a non-open ended statement and treat it like you just asked her 20 questions at one time.  You can count on it.  Predict it, even.

My current prediction…CCL would absolutely love this ridiculous site: http://invisiblecats.com/

Prison Stripes

As I may have mentioned, CCL thinks she’s humorous…very, very humorous, in fact.  The problem lies in that 1) she’s not funny, 2) she uses the same “witty” comment for years on end and 3) she’s very loud & wants everyone to know when something happens in her life.  So, she goes from person to person in the office telling the same story over & over loud enough for everyone to hear; by the time she reaches me, I have heard it so much that any humor it may have once held (which would be minimal, at best) is completely gone because of the repetition of it all. 

Having worked with her for almost five years, I can tell you what CCL will say in a given situation.  If someone calls her with a question, she’s being “stalked”.  If she gets mad at her boss, she either a) tells me she needs a voodoo doll that looks like her boss, b) asks if I’ll vouch for her character in a murder trial (that’s always a tough one to answer…), c) inquires as to what I think justifiable homicide is or d) threatens to quit because she just can’t take it anymore (one can dream…).  If someone from our corporate office calls her for a work-related question, “Corporate is harassing me”.  If a coworker gets frustrated, that person is “ready to snap like a twig” (she always tells me this with great urgency & concern, as if she is just sure the person is going to lose it at any minute).  And any time I wear a striped shirt, CCL tells me I look like I’m ready for prison.  I would like to tell her that based upon her outfits, she looks like she’s ready for the psych ward & is due for one massive makeover…but I bite my tongue, because I’m kind like that.

This is what annoys me about her prison shirt comments: 1) it wasn’t that funny when she first used the line five years ago & after dozens of times of her saying it, it’s completely obnoxious.  I have a lot of striped shirts & I actually find myself not wearing them sometimes simply because I don’t want to give her one more reason to come talk to me in a given day; 2) there’s no good comeback I can come up with, aside from my desire to say, “Yes, as working with you is like serving a life sentence. What did I do to deserve this? Why does God hate me?”; 3) she is NOT one to EVER judge attire on someone else. 

This is the same woman who, four years after first buying brown polyester pants that were too long, still has safety pins in them to hem the legs short enough that they don’t hit the ground.  She is also the same woman who told me she has exactly enough underwear & outfits to get her through one week (you can imagine the multi-level trauma there was the one time her oldest cat climbed in her laundry basket & peed all over her clean bras, which she didn’t discover until she went to wear one on a Monday morning.  Not only was there the obvious trauma for her, but the even bigger trauma for me, who had visualized her attempting to put on a cat pee-stained bra.)  She thinks that brown pocket t-shirts are fashionable to wear with safety-pinned brown polyester pants, that flood jeans are good to wear with white athletic socks and that long-sleeved shirts sewn into sweater vests are the latest high style fashion.  Needless to say, it is beyond an insult when CCL negatively comments on anything you wear.  It’s like Bernie Madoff giving Alan Greenspan investment advice.  It just shouldn’t happen.  Ever.

Unfortunately for me, I did not realize that CCL had today off.  (I knew she was taking off some days soon so she could take the cats to the vet—because somehow that’s a whole day event—and because her dad has two Groupons to use up, so she was taking two days off to go have lunch with him each day.  But, I didn’t know today was one such day.)  Had I known, I could’ve worn stripes today & not thought twice about it.  However, I am willing to give up a day in which I could wear stripes without CCL comment if it means I am CCL-free the entire day!  It is a blessed day…here in prison.

CCL's Dream Car

There is SOOOO much CCL stuff to catch ya'll up on...but I haven't had time to do so.  However, I will try to get on top of it sometime soon. 

In the meantime, I came across this gem & immediately thought it would be a perfect suggestion for CCL, who sporadically continues in her car shopping ventures.  (She tends to start car shopping--which gives her something to complain about--any time that she can't come up with other drama.  It's very similar to her almost-fainting spells due to diabetes mismanagement.  If there's nothing else to complain about, she mysteriously has low blood sugar, which requires her dad to drive her to work--leading to her going around the office to tell each person about it.)

However, if she decides not to get a new car & have it outfitted like this, she could always just do it to her Chevy Cavalier instead...

CCL's Dream Car

Scary snuggling.

There have been several times now that Doc & I have joked about getting a Snuggie for two.  This is usually done when we’re battling over who has more of the blanket while we’re watching TV & neither of us wants to get up and walk five feet to get another blanket from either lounge chair across the room.  We usually then get sidetracked about discussing how we’d have to fight the dogs over it (they LOVE soft things) if we had one & then we’d end up having to get them their own.  Keep in mind, we joke about this.  Note the word “joke”.

Earlier this week I was developing a nasty sinus infection & commented to CCL that I am sure the dogs love it when I get sick because it then gives them a whole heap of time during which they can cuddle with me and take advantage of any soft blanket I pull out to use myself.  And then she hit me with this whopper: “Oh, my cats do that too with my Snuggie.  Well, it’s not a real Snuggie.  It’s an off brand that is called Snaket or something like that.  It scares the cats every time I pull it out, but then they get used to it.”

Can one blame them for being scared?!  Not only does CCL have a Snuggie, but she was too cheap to even buy the real thing.  So, yes, I’d also be scared if I saw someone pull out a knock-off Snuggie.  I don’t get how they can get past the fear part of it long enough to want to cuddle on it…

Voodoo Dolls & Virtual Viruses

I can only think of two times that I’ve been on CCL’s bad side.  I don’t recall now what action or words led to her giving me the cold shoulder each of those delightful occasions, but I’m sure it was something ridiculously minor that any reasonable soul wouldn’t ever have thought twice about. 

Most days I wish I could remember what it was that caused her to ignore me, as it was quite effective—but with it comes the risk of getting on her REALLY bad side.  And I do mean REALLY bad.  I was reminded of this today—a day during which I’ve not exactly been the most chipper or happy with my boss & her inability to communicate—when CCL suggested I take Rice Krispie treats a co-worker put in the break room & mold them to look like my boss so that I could then attack said treat…and then re-build it and do it all over again.  Shortly thereafter, she said she was thinking about it and realized that everything one would need to pull off the perfect murder exists at the flea market.  Plus, there’s the added bonus of not having security cameras or receipts that will later incriminate you.  (I told her she was scaring me.  And she was.)

But, having said all of that, CCL’s usual proposed form of revenge goes back to voodoo dolls and virtual viruses.  She actually has looked at voodoo dolls online for purchase & wants to get one to use on her boss, Cow.  (Cow has ridiculous looking orange-red hair & so CCL said she’d paint the doll’s hair accordingly.)  Fortunately for all of us, CCL is as cheap as they come, so she won’t be wasting money on a doll.  She’ll instead save that money for a kitty toy she finds at a garage sale, which is her usual weekend activity with her mother.

Beyond the voodoo doll is the threat of a virtual virus.  It is not a typical computer virus that destroys a computer—it’s some email you can send to a person letting them know they’ve been infected with a virus of some kind.  I’ve heard about this for almost five years now and still haven’t bothered to Google it to see what it actually is, but the impression I get each time she brings it up is that it’s some kind of email that says “you have been given the flu” or something.  I don’t know.  I don’t ask & she always says the exact same lines each time she tells me about it, so I never get any additional information.  Which reminds me…  What I love is that every time CCL brings something up she seems to think it’s a revelation—even though she’s talked about it for five years in some cases.  It’s always, “You know, they do have virtual viruses you can send someone!”  (Please note that if I could do half of an exclamation point here I would, as that is more representative of the excitement level she has than what is implied by using a full exclamation point.)  Today I said, “I know.”  I normally act like I’m learning along with her, but I didn’t have any ounce of charity in my bones today.

Speaking of which…

I sent her a picture today of an adorable dog that belongs to a friend of Doc’s.  He sent it in an attempt to cheer me up.  And it did.  Anyway, I passed it on to CCL & said, “Isn’t she adorable?!”  She replied with a picture of her cat and said, “Yes, but not as adorable as this.”  It took her no time at all.  She has pictures of her cat at the ready.  So, I emailed back and said that I was sure her expressed opinion was due to her own bias & that she truly meant the dog was cuter than any cat.  (I told you I wasn’t feeling charitable.)  That resulted in an immediate personal visit from her, telling me about her cat’s eyes that are like Puss in Boots’ from the Shrek movies.  I normally don’t bother emailing her or replying to emails she sends me.  Why I bothered today is beyond me.  I was regretting it the entire ten minutes she stood in my cube & told me about how sweet her cat is & how “kitty just loves mommy”.

However, I can pretty safely say that me putting up with moments like that—even when I bring them on myself—assures that there is not a voodoo doll that looks identical to me sitting in one of her drawers somewhere.  This is more than I can say for some people in CCL’s life...

Vacation.

Whenever CCL goes on vacation, it is truly a vacation for me too.  It feels like my paid time-off is doubled every year, in fact.  Granted, she doesn’t always use up her vacation time in a given year & unfortunately for both of us, it’s use-or-lose with no carryover.  Sometimes she takes a day off because she has a doctor’s appointment at some point in a given day.  (We’re only required to take our time off in two-hour increments, so to take the whole day off for a one-hour appointment is unnecessary, but a dramatic way for her to tell everyone she’s going to the doctor.)  One year, she took off multiple days so she could stay home and read Harry Potter books or go to the Harry Potter movies.  And, yes, sometimes she takes it off just to stay at home with the cats because “they need Mommy time”.  (As much as I love my dogs, please note that I feel my time spent with them in the morning, evening and weekends is sufficient for their needs & I will never take time off just to hang out with them.  For vet appointments, sure—but I’m fortunate in that my vet has early morning drop-off and late evening pick-up available, so even then I don’t take time off.) 

One particularly memorable mini-vacation for me was when she took a couple of days off because they were paving the street in front of her house.  She couldn’t handle the stress of it and didn’t want to have to park her car on the street, as she was afraid someone would steal it.  So, she parked it at her parents’ house and had them drive her back home.  Each time she needed to go to the store, she’d call them to take her so that she didn’t have to have her car parked at the end of the street filled with $200K-250K townhouses.

Keep in mind she technically lives in our neighborhood.  Also keep in mind that almost every house in our neighborhood has at least one luxury vehicle in the driveway at any given time—and that often these vehicles are left out of the respective garages overnight.  I would think that if a vehicle were going to be stolen, it would not, in fact, be CCL’s red 2001 Chevy Cavalier, complete with trunk filled to the brim with empty grocery bags (that’s a story for another time), but rather it would be one of the high-end vehicles that would net the would-be thieves more money.  But that’s not how it works in CCL’s world.  She’s been brought up to be paranoid and thoroughly convinced that as a single female, she is the lone target of every unsavory character that lives within a 50-mile radius of her townhouse.  She once almost bought a personalized door hanger that included her name and her cats’ names, but ultimately decided against it because she thought that someone would see that two of the names were clearly for pets & thus, they’d deduce she’s a single female and would then break in to rob her and assault her person.  (Trust me.  I may be creative, but even I can’t make this stuff up.)  Personally, I’d not have bought the sign because it’s tacky.  For CCL, it can’t be that simple.

Today CCL reminded me that she’s on vacation tomorrow and Monday.  I congratulated her and told her to have fun.  I don’t know why I do that.  Every single time I simply open myself up to hear, “Oh, it won’t be fun because I’m [enter boring task here…this can range from ‘going shopping with my parents’ to ‘doing dishes’ ].”  It’s never anything pleasant & always something she’s dreading that I then must hear details about.  Today it was that she needs a four-day weekend in order to clean her house so that the HOA’s bug terminator crew can enter to do their thing.  I can only imagine the extra spray they have to apply to her house, as you know that it has to be bug heaven.

So, while CCL takes time off to try to get her house presentable enough that someone can enter it without suing for on-the-job injuries, I get time off from CCL!  Oh blessed, blessed day!  (And in this case, days!)  I am off to do my happy dance…out of CCL’s line of vision, of course.

There is hope!

Yes, friends I said "hope" in relation to CCL.  This is something I never thought I'd do, as the only hope I ever have with her is that I hope she goes away quickly when she stops by to regale me with the latest cat activity taking place at her home.  But, this--this, friends, is a different kind of hope. 

This is the kind of hope that changes lives and puts warring nations at peace.  Yes, it's just that powerful.  It is the hope that CCL can defy the odds that inherently come with being a CCL and instead she can...fall in love!  Yes, love!  Yes, yes, it's true!  There's hope that there IS someone out there for her.  And I do believe it exists here:

http://www.purrsonals.com/

Think about it:  Cat lovers...  Personals site...  CCL never leaves her house and lives her life out via online sites...  It's a match, so to speak, made in heaven! 

I'm off to make a not-so-gentle suggestion to a certain co-worker...

Segue much?

I know I have previously mentioned CCL’s innate ability to turn any conversation back to her cats. Today’s interaction with her gave me yet another solid example of this.

She was standing in my cube, griping about how she’s walking on the cuffs of her pants that are all-of-a-sudden too long & she can’t figure out why. (I checked to make sure there weren’t any missing safety pins around the bottom edge of the pant legs, but then realized these aren’t her brown polyester pants that she has yet to have hemmed—after almost five years. Those pants have safety pins all the way around the bottom edge of the legs; but these were, in fact, her gray pants.) In practically the same breath, she said that she’s still on her exercise plan (which left her so sore she couldn’t lift a baking dish into the above-range microwave the other night when she wanted to heat dinner) but that she’s gaining weight.

I told her it was most likely muscle weight she’s gaining, particularly if her clothes are fitting her differently. She didn’t like my explanation and instead wondered if she’d simply shrunk. And I quote (literally—I was trying to look distracted & busy while she was talking to me in hopes she’d go away faster, so I was writing everything down that she said as it came out of her mouth & letting her think I was making work-related notes), “It could be possible that I shrunk, because my cats were pure evil yesterday when I was on a conference call while working from home.” She then went straight into what each cat did, who hissed at whom, which cat jumped on the counter, which one she had to continually talk to, etc. But going back to her oh-so-smooth segue…

When studying for the LSAT several years back now, I learned all about the typical types of logical argument, with my favorite being called Red Herring.  (Don’t ask me what it means now; I just remember the name of it and that I liked it for that very reason.)  While I don’t recall all of the specifics now, I can tell you that each argument has a premise & conclusion, and then there’s that whole fallacy thing that shows the conclusion is not supported by the premise.  Even though I’m not an expert, I’m going to go out on a limb here & state that the conclusion of CCL’s argument is not, in fact, supported by the premise. That is, unless she’s leaving something out. Re-stated, her original argument would be, “Because my cats were pure evil, it could be possible that I shrunk.” To me, that screams false. Only if her argument was, “Because my cats were pure evil and used a butcher knife to chop off pieces of my leg, it could be possible that I shrunk.” would it seem like a sound argument to me.

Since that is not the case, my conclusion is going to be that she still just sucks at segues & casual conversation. Fallacy that.

Jane Fonda? No. CCL.

Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I have a strong disdain for exercise.  The part of me that gets exercised the most is my patience, as I deal with CCL on a daily basis.  CCL, meanwhile, is engaging in her own form of exercise—a nine-week workout program on her Wii.  We’re only into week two.  I’m ready for her to be done.

One of the most common phrases heard out of CCL’s mouth these days is, “If this is what it takes to be skinny…well, fit…than I’d rather remain fat.”  Another frequently heard item is, “I was so exhausted after working out last night that I fell asleep on the couch and didn’t get anything else done for the rest of the night.”  Two things surprise me about this: 1) That she is working out so severely almost every single night that she drives herself to the point of sheer exhaustion & can’t physically continue to function, and 2) that there is room on the couch for her to sleep.

This morning, I heard all about how her place could be on “How Clean is Your House”.  I’ve never seen the show, but I imagine it much to be like “Hoarders”.  I was commenting about how lazy I’ve let myself get with doing things like Windexing the dining room table each night to remove any streaks, since our housekeeper is so fantastic & will get to it without me having to mess with it; CCL commented that she wished she could find her dining room table.  How one loses an entire table is beyond me. 

The conversation about cleaning quickly turned into a conversation about her cats.  (Again, she can twist and turn any random discussion into one that includes her feline friends.)  To get there, she had to mention that her parents “guilted” her into having dinner at their house last night.  Due to CCL’s ability to exaggerate the most mundane of things in a given day—like when someone from our corporate office calls her regarding a simple item, she declares, “Corporate is stalking me.”--I imagine the “guilt trip” conversation to be much like this:  CCLD (that would be CCL’s dad—a rather large man…or so I’ve assumed ever since CCL once told me he sat on a sofa and snapped the frame of it), “Want to come to dinner at our place tonight?” CCL: “Sure.” 

Well, apparently CCL’s mother was miserable and trying to make everyone the same way, but CCL had a good time playing with her parents’ dog.  That topic immediately got her on the path towards a lengthy discussion about her cats.  I say “discussion”, but I mean lecture, as it was very much a one-sided interaction.  I heard something about how Cat A still hates Cat B after two years and how Cat A gets mad when Cat B is sitting next to CCL.  CCL said, “She gives her a look like [at this point, she assumed her whiny cat voice] ‘Why are you sitting next to Mommy?’”  Oh and there was something in there about them now sharing the same plate, upon which CCL mashes their food together.  (Mmmmm…sounds tasty.) 

Meanwhile, her whiny parting sentence (for that encounter anyway; there were four other ones today—including a most unfortunate time when she trapped me in the supply closet & I had no chance to escape) was, “This exercise program is sucking every ounce of energy out of my life.  I thought it was supposed to give me energy.”  My personal bet is that the soda, candy, fattening food and her inability to manage her diabetes may have something to do with this phenomenon that results in her crashing on the couch nightly.

Only seven more weeks of this to go…

The laugh.

Laughter isn’t always the best medicine.  In fact, it can result in anger, rage and—as is the case when I hear CCL’s laugh—the possibility for hate crimes to be committed.  While her laugh itself is obnoxious, that is not what would garner her a beating.  It’s the volume with which it is inflicted upon the rest of us that is awful.

For a frame of reference as to how obnoxious her laugh is: In the Golden Girls episode where Dorothy’s friend comes to visit and reveals that she’s a lesbian & then begins to have a crush on Rose, Dorothy was sharing a bed with Sophia & explaining all of these happenings, when Sophia meets it with a very particular laugh.  It’s more like a broken laugh.  It’s like, “Heh.  heh heh.”  Each chuckle is winded and blunt.  (Though it is funny to hear Sophia do it.)  Take that broken laugh, amplify it, and mix in a ridiculous giggle at the end.  That lovely combination would result in something comparable to the CCL laugh.  Alas, I digress as to the breakdown of the laugh…back to the volume issue.

I blame this need for robust guffawing on the cats.  You see, those cats keep her hostage in her townhouse, limiting her social interactions severely to where she doesn’t understand the concept of quiet laughter.  Instead, she seems to think that practically screaming her laughter makes something more hilarious and that those of us around her will then be curious about the cause for her laugh.  I am never curious.  I am, however, annoyed.  This is a frequent occurrence during conference calls, which makes it all the more bizarre because conference calls over operational procedures are never humorous enough to warrant large amounts of laughter.  Therefore, I am never curious about what she’s laughing at because I know in advance that I won’t think it’s funny.  Instead, it will result in me having to work extra hard to disguise my facial expressions (something that’s a challenge for me—no matter how hard I try), which would give away my thoughts of, “Could you be any crazier?”  Those facial expressions are never fun to give or receive.

Granted, not asking doesn’t always get me out of hearing about these pseudo-humorous moments.  Sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard I try to hide or make myself unavailable, CCL still strikes and has to tell me about the most hilarious thing to ever exist.  Gratefully I’m not alone in these moments—CCL sometimes just feels the need to tell everyone in the office about the hilarity.  So, we all get to hear her go from cube-to-cube, regaling each individual with the exact same verbiage and exact same laughter at the exact same junctures in the story.  And then she starts discussing the cats—yes, the cats.  She takes the opportunity to tie something about changes to, say, job order entry procedures (as an example for how non-hilarious the story matter is each time) into a discussion about how her cats were last night and how naughty they were during morning play time.  (She gets up 45 minutes earlier than needed each morning in order to spend time playing with the cats; she claims that they are unmanageable if they don’t get their play time with her.) 

It is a vicious cycle of assault to the ears…and some days it’s all I’ve got in me to hold back from threatening to throw the cats into a wood chipper.  [Not that I own a wood chipper, nor would I ever abuse an animal, but the threat itself would be enough to inflict harm and make my point…]

Happy __day.

I don’t know as that CCL ever has a happy day…but that doesn’t stop her from saying, “Happy [insert day of the week].”  Every single day.  Repeatedly.  And, as my astute reader, you will notice that the quote was not ended with an exclamation mark.  Because that would require excitement.  Instead, it is said with a more lackluster, dreaded tone that would imply CCL believes with every fiber of her being that this is the last day she will live to see.  And she’s relieved about it, while maintaining her usual anger-ridden attitude.

Recently, CCL has gotten to where she’s renaming days.  Last night before leaving, she said, “See you tomorrow for Wiener Wednesday.”  I didn’t dare ask.

What amazes me is that a phrase (albeit annoying when said on a regular basis) that is intended to be positive and cheerful can leave me in such a foul mood after it comes from CCL’s mouth.  It goes to show that it’s all about delivery.  (And, trust me, as a delivery person, CCL earns no gratuity.  Not one single bit.)

Happy Wiener Wednesday. Or whatever.

Respite concluded.

As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.  Such is the case with my time away from CCL.  You see, our office was in dire need of being re-carpeted and repainted, so we each worked from home for the last two weeks of 2010.  It was glorious.  It was, in fact, beyond glorious.  As a downside, I became addicted to “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills”; as an upside, I was CCL-free for two whole blessed weeks!!  And then, today, reality came roaring back…like a bad cold sore that is immune to any type of medication, both over-the-counter and prescribed.  Yes, dear friends, the delightful reality I just described is referring to the fact I am now back in the office with CCL.  And it’s bad.

Two weeks is a long time for one to stay in their townhouse with their cats, only socializing occasionally with one’s parents, and naturally this leads to a whole lot of pent up craziness that must be expelled in one afternoon.  At least that’s the case with CCL anyway.  From the moment I walked in the door this morning to this very point in time, CCL has been a non-stop presence in my day.  First, it was a whole conversation about her dad getting a turkey fryer for Christmas that her mom vehemently opposes & will not allow in her house.  Then, it was a conversation about who knows what, as I wasn’t paying attention and just did my obligatory “mmm hmmm” and “yep”.  And that’s when it got even more fun…

About five minutes after leaving my desk, she shouted for me and said she needed my help.  It turns out that her postage printer (which I had ordered from Amazon, thus somehow making me the expert on it) was acting up and sending extra blank postage feeds each time she printed one stamp.  The last time this happened on someone else’s postage printer, we learned to just tear off the blanks & throw them away, since trying to reverse them did more damage…and resulted in my battling the stupid printer with a letter opener for a full hour.  But CCL would have nothing of this—it was waste.  She flat-out said, “I hate throwing things away.”  I said, “I hate throwing away good things; these five wasted stamps, however, are not worth the hour of my time it may take to fix it if the reverse function fails.”  She still went ahead with it, with me fully prepared to hand her a letter opener and walk away, but it did actually work this time.  Yay!  The crappy part in this is that I was having to hover right over CCL for a good five minutes, fidgeting with the stupid machine that would not let me re-assemble it because it clearly is loyal to CCL and wanted to keep me there in her midst so she could be inches from my person for a prolonged period of time.  Stupid machine.

A few minutes after this, as several managers were going through a closet and deciding what to throw away, CCL shouted over her cube wall to the coworker who sits between us & started discussing how she has a hard time throwing junk mail away.  She said that her foyer was filled up with random junk mail, but she spent part of her two weeks at home cleaning her house a little.  She said there was enough junk mail in the foyer to fill up a large garbage bag, which she’s putting in the dumpster tonight.  (It’s a miracle she can even get in her front door—I can only imagine how the rest of the place looks.)  As I may have previously mentioned, I also do not understand why it is that she feels it’s normal to share these types of habits with coworkers, who most likely are never going to think of this as normal behavior.  Alas, I digress.

One thing about CCL is that she has to be RIGHT in the middle of the action—the second it begins.  Whether it’s a short conversation between three coworkers that appears to be a mini-party, or four managers standing in a supply closet looking at mounds of old paperwork and supplies, she has to be right there and practically shouting to be involved in the conversation.  Today, she did not disappoint.

Many years ago (well before I started working in this office), there was apparently an office game of Plinko—complete with a large wooden Plinko wheel that someone clearly spent some time making and painting.  It’s actually pretty impressive.  But, it has names of former employees painted on it and pretty much just needs to get tossed out.  So, once the discussion started between the managers as to whether or not to chuck it, CCL ran over to the area and asked if they were getting rid of it, clearly wanting it for herself.  Why, I do not know.  Why CCL does many things is beyond a mystery to me, but one thing that can be counted on is her ability to detect when garbage is being tossed, followed by her asking to keep it for herself.  My bet: she’d say her cats would have a fun time playing with it.  That’s the same reason she wanted old plastic file boxes, floppy disk—as in the HUGE, old ones—storage containers, a dozen of the branded cup cozies and so many other random things I can’t even begin to describe.  In short, her hoarding is enabled each time we clean out a supply closet.  (She was particularly angry with her boss, Cow, for taking two hula hoops for her granddaughters when CCL wanted them for her cats.)

Each time today that any of this has happened, it’s put her directly next to my desk, so she has to stop by and visit.  She just stopped by a few minutes ago to show me all of the scratches on her arms—she looks like the cats won the fight.  It’s pretty bad.  So, she said, “Tonight is manicure night for the girls.”  Because I refer to my two dogs as “the girls”, she has started referring to her two cats the same.  I somewhat feel bad that my behavior has led to her humanizing her two psychotic cats even further. 

In short, I am ready for this day to be over.  And I hate to say that since it’s one of CCL’s most commonly uttered phrases.  Quoth I: “[big sigh] I am so ready for this day to be over.”  I think she’s said it two or three times so far today.  Only about a half-a-dozen more times to go and the day should be complete… Oy vey.