It's been a long time but I'm back in town...

Hello, dear readers,

'Bout time! Where's a bitch been at, amirite?

Ahem.

Okay. I am kind of forcing myself to blog. About the last thing I want to do lately is write. I have, in fact, started many mornings lately by groaning, "God. Another fucking day of writing."

And then, despite my grumbling, I get ready right quick and bop out the door and find myself at work and I start writing.

BECAUSE I GET PAID TO FUCKING WRITE. WOOHOOO!!!!!

Ahhh. Had to get that out. I'm pretty sure Kata is actually the Army because this is the toughest job I've ever loved.

I haven't been wanting to blog and mostly it's because there is so much happening at Kata that I don't know where to begin. All I know is that I could write this entire post in caps and it still wouldn't convey the level of *amazing OMGWTFBBQ what the shit just happened wait, wait -- awesome!!!* that is the average week with this company.

Company is growing mad crazily. So much so that rumors are circulating that we're looking for a new office space. I hope that they wait until after the winter to move. I figure we're headed even further north and I'm already 25 minutes from the office. I'm having visions of it taking me three hours to get home during a snowstorm... and now I'm thinking I'm going to put a blanket and some cans of potted meat in my car tomorrow.

[meat-related segue]

I almost went to the office on our Halloween (beginning of the month for some team-building reason I can no longer remember) as Freud's psychosexual stages of development.

(#nerd)

At the moment, I can't remember what sparked the idea (believe it or not, I was sober) but I remember that I wanted to have a can of Vienna sausages represent the phallic stage.

[potted meat ---> Vienna sausages ---> Halloweenie]

(Okay, I totally just cracked myself up.)

I decided not to pursue the costume because I was probably going to land in the HR office. There was no way to convey most of the stages without making myself or others incredibly uncomfortable. That said, there is one guy who routinely sexually harasses women in the office and yet nothing happens, so I don't know what I was worried about. I'll talk more about him in a future post.

Sigh. There's so much going on. I'm trying to think of it all.

just start

About 10 days ago, I decided to find another seat in the office. Because we all work on laptops, we can go anywhere in the office, which is bliss. It can also result in people you don't like sitting at your table HI I'M RAINMAN AND I DO NOT LIKE CHANGE WAPNER WAPNER WAPN--

Ahem.

Basically, I'd had enough of Petal. Much like we all do, she spent the day reacting to things on her computer but every motion she made was so exaggerated. I frankly got really, really tired of observing it all day long. She also ate lunch at her desk a full 30 minutes before our normally scheduled lunch break and usually nommed something foodie and gourmetish and smelly as all get out, as in, "Your soup may indeed be delicious but I can only smell cumin and burning." The eating of full meals at our desks bugs the crap out of me. That's why we have a break room, people. Take your stinky stew and GOOOO THERE.

Petal also spent a good portion of the day chewing gum and she.would.crack.it and when she wasn't cracking it, I could see her chawing on it like cud. After weeks of witnessing her melodrama, ignoring her every time she reacted to something on her screen by saying "Wow!!" and then not explaining what she was seeing, being forced to be near her smelly food, seeing her nonstop gum chewing, and just being anywhere generally near her, I finally lit lightbulbed on the fact that I could... just... move. I felt it was wise to move before I snapped and lunged at her. Having your hands wrapped around your coworker's throat is probably not the sort of thing you can explain your way out of.

(I think it's pretty appropriate that Duncan Sheik's "Barely Breathing" just came on Spotify. Circumstances are different... but not that much.)

So I moved. I made the decision on a Tuesday night, I believe, and Wednesday morning, I strode into the office, pointedly not making eye contact with Petal and I moved my stuff.

Of course I had to make two trips, which prompted whining, questions, and Bambi eyes.

In case I haven't mentioned it, Petal is in her 30s. Just so... you know.

When I didn't respond to her plaintive look and plop my stuff back down, she said that her guilty look must not work on women.

Well. Certainly not this one. Generally when I look at you, Petal, I'm wondering just how many states away I can get before the police descend on me and I have to Thelma and Louise my way out of spending the rest of my life in jail for murdering you.

Also, one more time: Lesbians are not automatically attracted to all women on Earth. We would be very, very tired if that were the case. I do not find you attractive, mostly because you're a freakin' know-it-all. Please stop trying to make me like you by having me check you out and fishing for compliments. I will continue to look at your boobs but you must also know that I admire all the women's boobs. Because I can, Petal. Because I can. And also, hello?! Boobs!

Another big reason I moved is because I missed my view. The room had looked like this for a long time:

More or less. It took a really long time to draw that sonofabitch. I enjoyed it but I also had to stop adding details so I could finish writing this entry.

I loved it because I had my back to a wall and a gorgeous view of outside. Then we moved the tables for some big company meeting and the room ended up looking like this:

I used to sit across from Petal. First it was across from the guy who sits next to her, but he was also a gum chewer. ALL DAY, PEOPLE.

Anyway, I'm now at my own little table against the wall. I love it. I have my view back. Petal isn't even in my peripheral vision. She keeps whining about everyone being scattered to the winds, but I ignore her. I needed greenery. Every time I looked up to think, I would look smack dab at Petal and an expanse of white wall. I was also in another writer's 'thinking view' and I would look up multiple times a day to see him zoning out but also indirectly creepily staring directly at me. A couple times I smiled and waved and he would snap out of it. The rest of the time I just felt self-conscious.

That's about the most minor thing that's happened lately, but it's a start. I shall return soon and regale you with more stories of corporate life at Kata, which I have also taken to calling The Stockholm Institute.

Yes, as in "syndrome."

(DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN!)