Starting my third week of the new job and I only felt like puking a little bit today. Anxiety is still kicking my ass, but I am reasonably sure that it’s losing some of it’s stamina.
We had my extended Christmas party with family on Saturday night and then on Sunday, drove to Randy’s home town in Indiana to visit his sisters, niece, nephews and their assorted spawn.
On the way home, we stopped to see Priscilla, Queen Of The Cubicle.
We’ve been friends for years now and this is a first. We rarely do things outside of work together. By rarely, I mean it’s happened twice. Three times if you count that one quick drink we had at the dive bar down the street from work. But we’ve never visited each other’s house.
By the time we got to Priscilla’s we had been two hours into our 3.5 hour trip home. We were tired, but it was nice to see her. Priscilla and I exchange gifts. Mostly, she gives me fabulous gifts and I give her terrible gifts.
One year, I got her a Justin Beiber singing toothbrush. Another year, I made her an anal bleaching kit and last year, I got her a horse toilet paper holder.
It’s not like she never got even. My fiftieth birthday came and my entire cubicle had been Beibered. There was a Justin pinata, stickers, back stage passes and cupcakes with ‘I heart Justin’ signs in them. There was even a life size Justin cut out.
I was more kind this year. Kind of.
We exchanged gifts Sunday.
We actually met her at her friend’s house. We spent a few scant moment with introductions and getting the general insults out of the way. Then we sat on the couch and opened our presents. We had only been sitting there a few minutes when we were assaulted.
Oh holy shit. Fucking hell. What the fuck is that smell?
Her friend has a big black dog that was sitting at the end of the couch and apparently he is routinely fed putrid, rotting woodchucks because there was no other reasonable explanation for the stench.
Which reminds me of the conversation Randy and I had on the way to his sister’s that morning. We had been in the car a couple hours when a truck passed us. The side of the truck said ‘Specialty car transport’.
Randy: I wonder what is in there?
Randy: That’s like saying all dogs are dogs.
Me: Dude, all dogs are dogs.
Me: Perhaps you meant to word that differently.
Randy, trying not to smile: <crickets>
He always just smiles and says nothing when he realizes he has just said something kind of dumb. It’s the closest he will get to admitting he just said something kind of dumb.
But I digress.
Priscilla is not a fan of clowns. By not a fan, I mean they creep her the fuck out. Because I care about her and want to help her with her irrational fear, I got her a red clown nose. That way, she can put it on and look at herself in a clown nose until it’s not creepy anymore.
I’m like a saint, really.
She got me stickers that say ‘fuck’ on them, some awesome t-shirts and a huge book of Doctor Who trivia. I can’t wait to torture Randy with the Doctor Who quizzes.
I didn’t JUST get her a clown nose. I also got her a bathrobe with a unicorn horn on the hood because who doesn’t want to be a unicorn?
Fuck. Seriously. What are you feeding your dog? I just felt the enamel melt off my teeth.
Last year, she got me a big calendar filled with Robert Downey Junior pictures. Before I left my job, I told her at least a million times to come back to my cubicle to see November. November RDJ was amazing. She never did. So, I cut that one out and framed it for her. In a way, she kind of paid for her own present.
We didn’t stay long. We still had over an hour to get home and we’re old and get tired easy. Besides, another blast from the big black dog and that clown nose probably would have begged to come home with me.
It was good to see her. I miss her like crazy. Don’t tell her I said that though, she’ll call me a sissy.