I think it’s already been established that I have a problem with my edit button. The internal one, I mean. The one that keeps people from saying things like, Sweet Jesus, that dress makes you look like Grimace, or That looks like a great place to hide a body.
The only thing that saves me is the phone. It’s like some sort of magical filter that makes me articulate, cheerful and able to keep naughty words at bay. But face to face and in writing, it just rolls right out without thought.
You’d think that since I’m a writer, the written part would be easier, but it’s not. This is shameful to admit, but I don’t even edit this blog. I whip something out, occasionally acknowledge the spell-check when it yells at me, but otherwise what you see here is always D1. Probably should do something about that.
Maybe after I analyze all of my pictures to ensure I don’t get sued. (Thanks, Roni Lauren for that blog post!)
I have, over the course of my life, been the idiot that opens her mouth at the most inopportune times, or says the most inappropriate things. All those things you’re thinking, but wisely keep inside your head? Yeah, I say those things.
I’m the one who will tell the boss in a group meeting that the reason the office is running low on funds is because he spends money like a remedial math student. It’s not that overspending isn’t a legitimate thing to bring up in a meeting like that. But, as I understand it, I could phrase things a little more gently.
I don’t work for that guy anymore.
So the new guy got something else. In a lighthearted exchange after a particularly bad week for both of us, he informed me he’s been told not to swear in his correspondence with his staff. Probably any response would have been more appropriate than mine: Even if I deliberately offer an exemption? I’m damaged, I think it’s funny.
And then there was this thing with the donuts.
The staff in California (I’m on the opposite side of the country) had a potluck on Friday. I found out about it because an all staff email went out that said this in the subject line: Donuts! In the kitchen.
I opened the email to find a giant graphic of donuts. Which made me want donuts.
Rather than ignore the email, as I’m sure every other off-site employee did, I responded and the following exchange occurred:
Me: That was just cruel. Now I’m crying and thinking about donuts and thinking about moving to a city where I could at least go BUY donuts.
S: AWWWW-so sorry!!!“Out in the boonies donuts recipe ”from when I was a kid-Hot grease in a pan and plop pieces of refrigerator biscuits till fried and roll in sugar/powdered sugar/cinnamon.
I figure now she’s just wondering what’s in my freezer.