Radios, High Heels, Tailbones, and Pink Ducks

Yes, kiddies, the bizarre existence that IS my life continues in ever-flowing fashion.

I went out last night for a walk to clear my head with cd player in tow—the batteries quickly died. I had just purchased them. They were dead. I was now musicless. Not good. This was not good because Ms. Cachina (as G calls her), my coworker, broke her tailbone over the weekend. How that happened, I don’t care, but it means that I am here alone. Baldo wants me in from 8.30-6 pm every day, without overtime pay. Um, FUCK HIM, I say.

So, I continued along my trail, musicless, with thoughts of how Cachina needs to stop wearing high heels if she’s so clumsy, how the fuck I’m going to get out of this job, and how much $ it’s going to take to either get new batteries or a new cd player?

And then, I came across a pink duck in someone’s window. Very NOT Martha Stewart. Just plain ugly. It was not a flamingo, or an exotic swan, it was a pink DUCK. Uuuuugly!

I continued to fret because I had a doctor’s appointment ***wink wink*** this morning. One I couldn’t cancel. And wouldn’t cancel upon threat of death. So, after calling one of the execs and HR to complain yet again about Baldo’s antics, I was told this afternoon upon my arrival that a temp would be available for phone coverage this week. Then Bag O’Rocks asks me if Cachina called in. Um, why don’t YOU call her, Baggy? You hired her and her high heels. I’m not picking up that phone. Baldo’s due back in the office tomorrow and I might just barf.

GHI called me, which means if I can sneak out, I might just be back in the swing of things, job interview-wise. Many of my doctor’s don’t take GHI, but it a union job. I’ll see if they want to see me and we’ll go from there. GHI is 1 block away. My commute wouldn’t change, but my salary would bump up about $13K more than what I’m making now. Sweet! Of course, I’d have to get a new set of doctors. Ugh. That always sucks.

We’ll see. Whatever shall I do about pink ducks….