My ringtone is this. I crap my pants every time it rings.
[youtube]2Q842W3q9Kg[/youtube]
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My ringtone is this. I crap my pants every time it rings.
[youtube]2Q842W3q9Kg[/youtube]
My ringtone is "Hail to the Victors" (no joke). I cry a little inside every time I hear it.
In my head, I'm the one who got you watching Torchwood. I don't know if that's true or not, but I choose to believe it.Quote:
Originally Posted by number8
Me, BTW:
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v2...girl/tones.png
Sort of. It's that Best TV Couples article you wrote.
Me: "BISEXUAL MEN? IN SCI-FI? WATCH."
I'm going to tell you guys a totally awesome story after lunch.
This is a teaser.
I'ts after lunch
Old Spice theme is my text ringtone. I smile everytime I hear it.
The Incredibles theme is my ringtone.
No one ever calls me though. :sad:
*copies your idea and downloads immediately*Quote:
Originally Posted by Ezee E
I'm not sure this story can be appreciated without a little bit of background on the place where I work. I'll try to keep it brief. But it won't be.
If my work was an NBC filler office-space sitcom, the hook would be that we deal with the mentally ill, but who are actually the crazy ones? Wackiness ensues. We have a history of hiring really oddball, unstable people, to the point where people who used to work here (once, a therapist) come back eventually as patients. I used to work at our clinic, where things are even worse. I'm now over in administration.
There is a sort of war going on at the clinic between the doctors' support staff and the therapists. The doctors are supposed to have seniority in terms of charts, because they are paid much more, and every minute they spend looking for something costs the clinic money. So, there is an entire staff dedicated to making sure that the doctors get everything they need so that they can see the maximum number of people per day.
Meanwhile, the therapists see the same clients, often on the same days, and also need the charts. They are supposed to fill out the charts immediately after seeing the clients and then file them immediately, so the support staff can find them again. But, since the therapists don't have their own support staff, they often get lazy and hold onto charts for awhile, sometimes even overnight.
Because of HIPPA, all offices are locked. When the offices are locked with charts inside, the support staff gets ornery. Sometimes they call my office, since we have master keys, to come and open them.
Moving on.
The person in charge of the support staff at the clinic is one of the most bizarre women I've ever known. I shall call her Angel. If Angel worked anywhere else-- I mean, anywhere else in the world, not just here-- she would be fired. She occasionally threatens to quit and says she'd go to Nevada and join the Bunny Ranch. She has actually said this to me. Multiple times.
She will never get fired because her mother is the CEO of the company.
Angel is probably at or near sixty years old, but dresses and behaves like a twenty-year old woman. And by woman, I mean stripper. And by stripper, I mean drag queen. She wears gobs and gobs of make-up, a huge curly blonde wig that goes all the way down her back, tight tacky clothes, and stripper heels. Angel has a number of tattoos and is always getting more, and is not embarrassed to show them off. (I ran into her at the Christmas party a couple of weeks ago, and when she saw me, she literally turned around and lifted her skirt so I could see the new poison ivy tattoo she had on her butt cheek. This was in the lobby of a restaurant. With people in it.) She also has a loud, squawking voice that can be heard anywhere withing a building.
Angel loves her pets, especially her dogs. One dog has separation anxiety and comes to work with her every day, bedecked in ribbons and little outfits. It follows her everywhere.
Angel's office is full-- every shelf, every inch of wall space-- with odd knick knacks. Some of them are sentimental, endearing, silly signs, like your grandmother would embroider on a pillow. But,there are also two shelves stuffed with torture porn figurines. There are a number of pictures of Elvira, whom she loves and dresses as every Halloween.
Now, the truth is, I like Angel. She can be very sweet, and she is a riot to know, because she will keep you guessing every damn day. And it's kind of an adventure to know someone so nuts. When we worked in the same building she would sort of cluck over me and take care of me. At the same time, I'm a little afraid of her, because she's so unpredictable and has occasional temperamental outbursts.
I saw her one time without make-up and the wig. For some reason, I was working later than everyone else and she came in to take care of some business. I, quite literally, did not recognize her, until she started speaking. Without the costume, she looked like a very normal middle-aged woman, even a little bit pretty. But "pretty" is not what Angel wants out of life-- she wants to be NOTICED.
This morning, I was given an unusually vague note about some maintenance that was going to be done on the building. My boss was going out for several hours for a lunch meeting, and told me the maintenance guy would be by and that he needed to go over to the clinic and fix a door. She said, "He may not have a locking handle in stock, and if not, he needs to put in a non-locking handle until he can get one."
After she left, I started thinking. If he needed to install either a locking or non-locking handle, didn't that suggest that at the moment, the door had... no handle at all? And why would a door have no handle?
When the maintenance guy showed up, I gave him a purchase order for parts and sent him to the clinic. He returned about fifteen minutes later.
"Have you SEEN the door?", he asked me.
"No, I don't know anything about it."
"Look, look," he said, and showed me a picture on his phone. I asked him to e-mail it to me, specifically so I could share with you guys.
[]
"Holy crap," I said, "What did that?"
"A hammer."
"Was it a client?" A client had broken a door once when I worked there.
"Aw, no, it was Angel," he answered. I stared at him. He stared back.
"Angel..." I said, "broke down a door with a hammer?"
"Yup."
"Do you know why?"
He looked sort of quizzical. "Something about a chart?"
Hahahaha. Mara you have so many things in your life that would stress me out on a daily basis, I admire you for being so even tempered about things. I don't know how you do it...
I vent about it on the internet.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dukefrukem
Mara why don't you just start a blog with all of this? You're a fantastic writer--unforced, not fussy in details, great warmth mixed with subtle humor--and these stories would be fodder for great humor blog or book.
Actually that's not a bad release...
Maybe someday. It sounds sort of like work, though.Quote:
Originally Posted by Wryan
Compliments, however, make me go like this:
:pritch:
I'd read Mara's blog just for the funny yet surprisingly true stories about the people she encounters.
I wasn't going to suggest a blog but I was going to suggest you tell us a new story each day. You really are a fantastic storyteller and some of the weirdest shit happens in your sphere of existence. Your life fascinates me. Truly.
I have the Bad Horse tune from Dr. Horrible. It starts off with a cute chime so it's not abrupt, yet it's different enough - I always recognize it in a noisy crowd.Quote:
Originally Posted by Wryan
My Godfather, who has never smoked a day in his life and at the age of 87 is more active than 90% of my 20-something friends, was just diagnosed with aggressive lung cancer.
Awesome story, Mara.
Horrible news, meg. My condolences. That old and that active, though, no doubt a great life.
That's a bummer, meg.Quote:
Originally Posted by megladon8
Like they say, every single human will get cancer - it just depends on if you live long enough to get yours.
At least he's lived a long - hopefully good - life.
My grandma was 81 when she was diagnosed with bone cancer. She's not doing chemo or anything because at her age the chemo would be worse than the cancer. She's just happy that she's lived this long.
How is your uncle taking the news?
Been thinking about changing my ringtone to *BWAAAAAAAHHHMMMM* from Inception.
He's certainly lived an incredible, successful life.Quote:
Originally Posted by D_Davis
He is a geophysicist. He was working for NASA at the time of the moon landing, and actually got to analyze some of the samples that were brought back.
He's one of the most intelligent people I've ever known.
My godfather seems to be feeling the same - that most any treatment he could undergo would do more harm than good for a person his age.Quote:
My grandma was 81 when she was diagnosed with bone cancer. She's not doing chemo or anything because at her age the chemo would be worse than the cancer. She's just happy that she's lived this long.
He seems to be more concerned with making sure that whatever time he has left is spent comfortably, which I think is an admirable decision.
My uncle?Quote:
How is your uncle taking the news?