Persistence

 Persistence can be both a good and bad thing.  It really does depend on how it’s applied.  Today it was not a good thing.  The woman I work with is persistent in a manner that crosses over into obsessive control over things she has no knowledge of or actual control over.  It clearly crosses the lines into annoying attempts of micromanagement trying to make others do as she wants.  I do no play well with that type of personality.

I did manage to keep my composure all while wanting to throttle her.  

Some days you’re the hammer, sometimes your the nail. 

Exhaustion

 Working for a purpose or for their purpose?  It’s all blurred into a wind tunnel of walking dead for me.  Pushing past or through the pain and exhaustion has been a long time process.  It’s a process that I simply cannot do today.  

Today is a day of recovery and rest. Possibly some laundry; but mainly rest.  I’m annoyed that I have too. I feel like a failure. 

At least I’m not Brett Farve. 

Set It All On Fire

It was a dark and stormy night..... Not really. It was dark, cool, slightly muggy but overall it was just fucking boring. Thankfully even though my cell wasn't up and running like the charmer that it is; I was gracefully alone at another station. I loathe having to work with many of the self absorbed bitches that litter the plant like cat crap in the sand box. 5 minutes with little miss mail order and I have to remind myself that getting fired for violence in the workplace is a bad thing.

What I Wore: Sweat Soaked Edition

Bandana, red lipstick, Big Dog tank, yoga pants, and 30 Lbs of sweat. Charming...

With the temperatures reaching record highs, the plant has been like a vortex to a hell dimension.  Somewhere along the levels of 7.  No air, no reprieve, no help in sight.  We have been pounding back watermelon like an asthmatic craves air and have raced for our spray bottles like thirsty men for water.  Between hanging hot parts and emptying racks of newly dipped parts hot parts, we were itchy, bitchy, and ready to fall down flat.  Domina looked at though she was ready to blow a rather large hole in any wall possible should it bring forth a breeze, and I was ready to just grab ever fan and circle us like salt for protection.

Our new supervisor wasn't in which was a blessing.  While he claims to be "A keeper of the rules" he hasn't an ounce of compassion or common sense.  From everything that I have seen, he's less about human rights and far more about cutting costs by any means necessary.   

What about the red heads?

So what type of bonus' are we talking about?

Baby It's Cold Outside

The snow storm has passed but the hassles, cancellations and delays continue today.  In GTA, Toronto recorded the largest single-day snowfall — which led to school bus cancellations in the Toronto District and Catholic school boards.  Meteorologist Jill Taylor said around 26.4 centimetres of snow was recorded at Pearson International Airport on Monday, breaking the record of 13.4 centimetres set on that date in 2009.  But the last time Toronto had more than 20 centimetres of snow in a single day was 51 years ago — 20.8 centimetres on Jan. 14, 1968.  The GTA, including Toronto, was under a snowfall warning on Monday evening, but that has since been lifted.

The massive snowstorm caused major issues for all public transit, including busses.  Regardless as to your travel methods you'll want to prepare for longer than normal travel times due to the weather.  The northbound lanes of the DVP were shut down for several hours overnight due to poor weather conditions.  It has since reopened.  OPP Sgt. Kerry Schmidt sa id there were approximately 300 crashes in the past 24 hours in the GTA and surrounding area.  Meteorologists say it will continue to be windy on today with blowing and drifting snow, which I can attest to as I have three foot drifts across my driveway and backyard.. There will be some sunny breaks, but the GTA could get some more flurries late in the afternoon or early evening.  Although the temperature was relatively mild this morning, temperatures will fall to -9 C this afternoon.  The wind chill will be near -30 overnight. 

The frigid weather will continue into Wednesday and it will feel like -30 C with the wind.  So bundle up if you have to go out, but if you're one of the lucky ones who can stay in, do so.  Get out those fluffy blankets and watch movies and drink hot tea and coco until spring arrives.

Superman Punch

Overtime is, well it's a load of crap but a necessary load of crap.  Domina and I just so happened to get the chance to work together for it.  By the time 6am rolled around she and I were so very over it.  Every last second of it.  So naptime was a blessing and as tired as we were, I conned both she and The Pirate into heading out to the movies.  Ahh the sweet stench of 'the public' is a reminder as to why the three of us like our homes ever so much, and yet we did laugh.  We did have fun, and we did stay till the end.

Glass was not their favourite, but they endured it all for me.  Bless their collective hearts.  We, after The Pirate hustled me at pool hunkered down and endured the 30 minutes of bloody commercials.  The highlight of the evening, other than the copious amounts of popcorn we threw at each other was the "Superman Punch".  It was a moment that left all others in the theater glaring at us and quite possibly deciding that we three heatheans were certainly well upon our way to damnation. 

Grindin'

I don’t believe in asking for permission for something that's my right and I’ve never been one to apologize for something I meant.  I refuse to hand over my power.  I look for the same in a partner.

I’ve also always loved em a little on the dominant side with a bit of attitude.  Someone who can hold their own; step up, boss up and make their voice heard.  We're tired AS FUCK around here, but we have goals.  We have drive, and we're going to make that money.  We have ambitions cause I’m not trying to live in poverty.

Coffin Ridge

Last night I couldn't seem to do anything right.  Hell most of yesterday it felt that way.  I was a walking, talking, stumbling, mumbling train wreck, with a blast radius that just didn't seem to quit.  Much like my hips, and no they don't lie.  My wave of destruction and chaos followed me into work; much to my horror.  I could not have done worse if I'd stood back like 15 feet and just lobbed parts at the machine, while hoping for a stellar outcome.

Oh what a night... Though it isn't late December, nor is it '63. 

As I've mentioned I was struggling with what to do about this apparent requirement for a divorce and possibly looking to walk that plank...errr isle again.  Turns out that's just never going to happen.  Not now.  Don't get me wrong, the Pirate and I are fine and dandy, or we will be once I stop feeling annoyed?  That's not exactly it, maybe hurt?  I'm not really accustomed to this "human feelings" bullshit so I'm no certain.  I just know that when I mentioned that I was trying to find my marriage certificate online and then a reasonable do-it-yourself divorce package as he had requested I "get my shit in order so I can e his Mrs Pirate".  He responded with, "well just remember that you're never taking my shit when you leave."

I was gobsmacked.  Here I was stressing over events that I can barely remember.  Seriously I haven't a clue as to when my ex-current husband and I got married.  Nor do I care, except that I need that information for divorce papers, and my current love, man of my dreams comes out with that horse shit.  You've got to be fucking kidding me.  1: Any relationship I've walked away from be there kids involved or not, I've walked with what fit in my single backpack and never once looked back.  Never once asked for or received child support or any other form of financial aid, let alone taking anything that I hadn't bought myself for myself or was a family heirloom.  Which I promptly snapped back at him with.

Angry, in that moment it was more like livid.  In that moment I also saw that he'd already come to the conclusion that we won't last.  This isn't forever.  Of course I can stop being an annoyed wife for 5 and see exactly why he said it and where he's coming from.  I truly can.  He's justified in those general feelings but I've never given him reason to doubt me and there I sat, being doubted.  it fucking sucked.  It stayed with me all night and even this morning I found myself still .... upset if the only term I can use that makes sense.  I can't nail down the emotion.  It's just not defining itself at present. 

Suffice to say my views on marriage haven't gotten better with this latest occurrence.  In fact it completely solidified my belief that marriage is just never going to be for me.  That dream is long since died and trying to raise the dead is always a bad idea.  We all saw pet cemetary right?  Look how well that turned out.  No thanks.  Those dreams I had of being a beautiful bride with that handsome dude waiting for me with that shit eating grin on his face, ecstatic to see me walking to join him in wedded bliss wasn't ever meant to be anything more than a really cool dream. 

Now I'd actually be pretty chill about it all in reality, but it all kinda snowballed into me being a nonemotional/emotional idiot who let a past remark sneak it's way into the assorted mess and just eat at me all fucking night.  By the gods and goddesses when I turn silly female I go for the gusto.  No need to do things half assed with me.  Let me take that almost healed wound and pick at it till it's a gaping void and bleeding out like a gunshot victim.  Go me!   

Props

Giving credit when it’s due. Huge props go out to Ty tonight. As I've come to see for myself not only talented he’s exceedingly kind. Meeting Mako as most know is not for the faint of heart or for those without a true love of animals. She’s beyond a handful somedays as any hellhound can be. And let’s be blunt she can be scary AF! She certainly was this evening as she went from 0 to 120 in the blink of an eye and her sights were set on defending her space.

 There was no threat to Mako but as those having dealt with red zone dogs, she doesn't perceive things as we do. Ty showed incredible fortitude and didn’t flinch, he completely understood where she was coming from; and why it was that she felt the need to behave like a total menace. That kind of tolerance and compassion is often far too lacking in this world.

So a huge thank you goes out to Tyson from @cashmoremusic This evening Mako and I were gifted with a kindness and understanding that few ever get. You have certainly helped restore some of my faith in humanity. May we one day soon see that logo everywhere. ✌🏼 #Cashmore #CashmoreMusic #subscribe #CashmoreCrew #goals #achievements #youtube#cashmorecrew #subscribe #cashmore #achievements #goals #mako #cashmoremusic #hellhound #youtube

Fire Below

Some days it all goes right. Timing is perfect, numbers climb with ease, and everyone crossing your path has something nice to say. Those days are fantastic. 

Today everything that could go wrong kind of did. Murphy and his entire book of laws sidled up to me and made me his bitch. Still I was sure we could salvage our numbers and just hold our heads high. Now I’ll let you in on a little secret ...”there is such a thing as too much focus”. 

550 pieces, 2 weld cells, 3 robots, 4 tricky light curtains, can have me really hauling ass and doing my best to ensure the paperwork doesn’t look like marauders rode through and beat the living daylights out of the place. Especially when there are less than 8 of us in the entire plant trying to keep things going while everyone else is off until the New year. 

I was so hyper focused on making numbers that the look of... utter bafflement and shock upon my face sent my future ex-husband Jordan into fits of laughter as he calmly said, “umm sweetie, the back of your cell is on fire.” 😳 “So that’s why this cell smells like eggnog!” Was my surprised response that now sent Jordan into peels for laughter as he let loose with the fire extinguisher. 

Fire suppressed rather quickly with the two of us attacking it, all the while I grumbled “big factory filled with metal and concrete and I have to be the one to set shit on fire... fml” Jordan for the most part tried to stifle his laughter as we sprayed and stomped the fire to a slow and tedious death. 

When we cleared it all and I was ready to get the damn cell back up and running we surveyed the debris and low and behold my part in the fire was completely secondary as the maintenance man was the culprit. The little bitch didn’t want to get dirty so he laid cardboard down on the floor to lay upon. 

That was our ignition point for the flames, his tool kit and grease covered rags just helped everything along nicely. Jordan who as luck would have it was doing some suspension work above me and from his gear as he hung from the ceiling noticed the flames. 

So thanks to my future ex-husband for saving my life. 😋 next time let me finish my work first!

Convivium, fornicatio, prae omnibus aes

As the Canadian populace awakes with deep sighs of relief, for we are a well prepared people ( for the most part) there are those that are cussing like sailors with turrets.  Many of our proud and noble populace embarked upon their farewell to summer's last hurrah in the wee hours of the morning, while the roads were clear and the frustrations ever so low.  Now the few that waited until late this morning (much to our nations shame and mocking) are stuck inside their vehicles bumper to bumper, grumbling, grousing, and scowling at their progeny as they attempt to reach their cottages and the relaxation held within.

Then there are those of us whom have just escaped our captors, shucking off the dregs of our servitude seeking sleep and wine.  Not necessarily in that order.  My partner in crime, my ride or die gal-pal and I are two of such indentured babes.  We were in fine form last night, skipping into work 5 hours late.... for our. last. shift....before we begin our new adventure come Tuesday.  Gluttons for punishment as we are, and two self empowered women whom honour the hustle we've decided that diving headlong into a six day work week is worth it when the payoff is fairly sizable for us.  Long may our hustle live!  This of course most notably ensures that for the foreseeable future that we shall have no life.  At least not outside of work.     

This weekend is our last grasp at Convivium, fornicatio, prae omnibus aes.  Though we are aiming for only one of the three.  Which one remains even a mystery to us.  

“Partying, fornication, and above all debt” 

Per aspera ad malam occupationem

Day's off never actually are.  I have many times over now, covered on shifts that are not mine.  Those shifts that are short of staff, or that have far too many newcomers to be deemed effective often call upon myself, Sista, or both of us to correct the mayhem that far too often occurs.  Today was no exception.  My Sista was unable to attend the insanity, thus I marched to my own beat whilst refraining from rolling my eyes at the turkeys surrounding me. 

The most difficult portion of the day, was precisely the day.  I am a night shift worker, I embrace all things night.  So to be awake while the sun is so high in the sky, is apocalyptic to me.  Still I muddled through, moving at the speed of light; showing those around me what the meaning of hustle is.  Each at one point or another attempted to tell me to slow down, or to "pace myself".  To what level of slowness, or pace they were referring; is unclear.  I dare say, they are simply lay-with a capital Zee.

“Through adversity to a bad job”

Less than eloquent

Time crunches, schedules crammed into 12 hours when they should in reality take 36.  Neck breathers, handsy strangers, and just far too little caffeine.  There are moments I am less than lady like, less than polite, less than eloquent.  And far too abrupt.  When the dance halts, and each limb is filled with such tension that every inch of each tendon coils so tightly with a desire to strike in much the same fashion of an angry Cobra...

Here's Your Sign

We're a motley crew, with a humor that would make any HR department head vomit in his mouth, repeatedly.  Some work like they were built for such things, while others; well we apparently keep them around for comic relief.   Kenny, if the name was indication enough is a grand bit humorous antidote.  For a time he rode his bike to work.  A bicycle, not a motorcycle to be clear.  A bike that he used in good measure until it and he met with a sign from above.  A big red STOP sign that is.  To date we are unsure how he ran over the sign; on his bicycle.  But run it over he did indeed.  Hit it hard enough to leave the entire twisted mess on a 45 degree angle.  Seriously.

How does one run over a stop sign on a bicycle?  We've hypothesized, sketched out the path and trajectory, pondered, and laughed until the tears flowed like a heavy rainfall.  Kenny for his part cannot seem to explain in any further detail than what we can come up, not how this event occurred or how he came to be missing so many fingers.  Then again, maybe he likes I our theories better.  Suffice to say the only real evidence we have is the mangled stop sign, and the vast amount of heavy bruises mottling Kenny's entire physique.  To the naked eye, I can state that the stop sign for all it's wreckage of cold metal, won. 

Fast forward a few months, and Kenny had saved up enough for a truly stellar heap of potentially heinous vehicular man-slaughtering junk.  It's as though anything involving metal would ultimately be Kenny's downfall.  Or maybe that was just my take on it all.  Still I cannot say that I was far from the mark when I first laid eyes on the...car?  You see Kenny found public transportation disagreeable.  Even more so than the physical damage he did to inanimate objects, not to mention himself when he was in control of the wheel.  Thus the heap of what can only be described as scrap metal was purchased.  Unseen.  Yes, you read that correctly. 

Kenny saw an ad you see.  An ad that offered a "running beater" for best offer.  He offered $200 and was told that he could have both sets of tires for that fine amount.  This to our minds; those minds unencumbered by repeated trauma that is; found this to be a massive warning.  Kenny however whooped and cheered his good fortune.  A fortune I am still awaiting the arrival of.  The car? of his dreams was delivered, yet unseen via tow truck.  This did nothing to dissuade Kenny's elation at having a four wheeled chariot that was now all his own.  That was until he popped the hood; for a brief moment I saw Kenny's joy falter but was soon replaced with a renewed happiness.  Not only did Kenny have a car, but he had a project. You see Kenny's new chariot had a dust problem.  If by dust you understand it to mean an engine full of sand.

Oh boy.  

It took Kenny a few weeks, but remove all, or almost all the sand he did.  As the engine sputtered roared to life so did Kenny's spirit.  For all his quirks and oddities, I must give the man credit for unending optimism.  In no short order Kenny was driving himself to work.  Proud to have wheels all his own.  A man of the road once more.  I, for all my optimism gave Kenny and his car a very wide birth; never taking for granted that being upon the sidewalk was to be a safe haven.  Need I remind you of his track record thus far?  Not to mention I still have nary a clue as to why he is short so many digits upon each hand. 

One particularly frigid evening as I was about to walk my way home, Kenny appeared keys in hand and smile brilliant upon his grubby face.  Jade, no need to walk hun, it's too cold!  Come, I'll drive you.  I am uncertain what cosmic events or sudden onset of cerebral apoplexy overtook me, but get in Kharon's ferry but get in it I did.  As I searched my pockets for the gold coins required of such a ride, as Kenny turned the key.  Doing my level best to ensure Kharon was paid in full lest I be swept away into the depths of the Styx.  I awaited the the tell tale whirl of the fan kicking in offering us some warmth within the safety of this, vehicle protecting us from the elements.  What came to pass had me quite literally gobsmacked. 

There was no whir to be heard or felt.  I reached for the knobs upon the dash to ensure they were indeed in the on position.  Kenny smiled at me like a parent about to tell their slightly daft child some truth that was yet unknown.  "The heater doesn't work.  Actually I don't even this there is a fan.." he continued.  I stopped listening somewhere between doesn't work, and the backfiring of the engine that followed.  I was going to die.  It was time for my heathen phatass to pray to my heathen gods.  I was so caught up in my thoughts and prayers that I didn't quite catch the following diatribe, but snapped my head back around as a lit candle was foisted into my rather numb hands. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

"This will keep you warm!" Kenny happily chattered away.  I did my best to retain the scarce eyebrows I possessed.  It was the first and last time I rode with Kenny.  Opting to flag down men offering candy from the half opened windows of unmarked white vans.  I've found that after 5 full nonstop minutes of 100 questions they are more than happy to drop me off anywhere I want to go.

Part hood, part good.

Radical honesty is a full-time job. This truth goes directly against almost everyone's work ethic. Be it retail, office work, customer service or hell even a job interview; lying is key. Some would call it "shades of the truth" but let's cut the bullshit, it's lying. I had a district manager who demanded the truth was always in high priority! She claimed to value it above all else.

She was a liar. She was also terrible at hiring people. 8 out of the 10 people she hired were such bad candidates that it would have been laughable if it weren't horrifically sad. I had stold by and watched these events unfolding time and time again. I finally couldn't take the foolishness anymore and told her the truth. A simple statment of facts with their corresponding outcomes. It went over like a lead balloon.

I’m passionate about quite a few things in this world, of course those things tend not to be as popular with the general person. I live my life in relative comfort. I toil daily to make ends meet, through all of the time-consuming, laborious tasks that usually entitle people to that kind of comfort. I do find many of not most people, want to live like a rappers without being a rappers. If you happen to meet anyone who’s never laid down a single track or been taken into custody for disorderly conduct and unlawful possession of a firearm but still lives like Rick Ross, then you may have a better understanding. I’m actually a fan of hard work, but very occasionally, I dream of a job that allows me to just sit pretty while amassing vaults of cash.

So at the beginning of October, when I made the commitment to get real and work in a far more honest enviroment, I thought that a monthlong break would be enough time to address my demons, and I would come back, envigrated and ready to hit the workforce ground running. That lasted all of 3 days. After a small amount of paaperwork and an hour long interview, I was once again gainfully employed.  My allotting 30 days to clear away debris like dust in the wind seemed pretty generous, and I actually made a list of things I might try in case I finished a few days early. I watched a tutorial on how to create the perfect winged eyeliner with a smokey eye and that bitch was #1 on my list.

I know the facts but I'm still not sure how 30 days turned into just 3. So I'd just like to mention the if any of the coping mechanisms you use to stay functional involve pushing down grief and pain and rage about your past or your present, and you unlatch the gate that’s been corralling those feelings and they all escape in a mad rush and you have to chase each one down to see if it really belongs to you or it can be returned to the wild, um, you’re not going to have time to work on the perfect winged eyeliner. Not in three days. Yeah, I know, it was a surprise to me too.

Home alone: AHHHHHHHH!

(spot the reference and earn my laughter)

Good morning all of you lovely people, I am actually leaving for work and LePup must join me as he's too pipsqueaky to be without his nursemaid.

Today's schedule was as follows:

8-11: LePup slept
11-1130: LePup ate
1130-1: LePup slept whilst I attempted to attain Master Ninja level status and keep him asleep whilst the bus driver drove it like he stole it.
1-130: LePup pooed, peed, ate and then peed some more. Down my leg.
130-330: LePup played with LeChat
330-4: They both ate like they'd never eaten before, or would again.
4-530: They both rolled around and sang like the BeeGees, If the BeeGees were drunk and had been set on fire.
530-615: They ate again and pooped like champs
615-740: I slept standing up for 5 minutes and then they slept like the dead

We are now cooing at the beatta fish. Well, I am. LePup and LeChat are doing trigonometry.

I am running around trying to accomplish a shit ton of work wondering why I agreed yet again to tend little ones that have yet to be weaned. I have come to the conclusion that it's because I'm a moron.

Discovery

It's been a difficult week for a great many reasons. I've had to be an actual grown up, something I try to avoid at all costs. I've grown rather fond of my whimsy, if that's what I can call it. My desire to live my life with honesty, radical honesty hasn't been easy, but it has been freeing. It is especially unique in its application within the work environment, specifically retail where honesty is just not what the corporation desires.

I attempted to balance such things this week. I was given the mandate of "just play nice. Put on a smile and no matter what remain polite." This was possibly one of the more difficult things to do and stay true to who I am. I did however accomplish it. I was polite, inclusive with one whom has been nothing short of rude, disruptive, and not even remotely part of the team. I embraced"kill her with kindness," as ordered requested by my boss.

Then today on my way home from store #3, I received a call from said boss. He opened with, "remember that conversation we had on Thursday?" I assured him I did and that I had followed his request to a T, at which point he apologized to me. "I am sorry for having made you go through that, it was a futile effort and you deserve an apology."   I've no clue what prompted this call, but I accepted the apology in the spirit it was intended. I suppose I shall find out more tomorrow. For tonight I shall just smile and be happy in the fact that I gave a full effort with true intention to do the right thing. Tomorrow after all is another day.


I like this new side of you.  It's terrifying, but I like it.

I'm a ninja

"I'm a ninja", said the voice. I was sitting on the homemade bench under a 12' by 12' canopy in the sweltering heat. Team building exercises meant to be fun and help new comers learn tips and tricks from us seasoned teammates. There were three training stations going in the field; one for team member hoist and carry, one for doing a tandem dog wash, and lastly, a thunder jacket / harness simulation. There were 12 or more trainees milling about, and with only 3 spots to train on, it meant the remaining personnel were huddled around and in the meager shade offered by the canopy. 

"I've trained with nun-chucks, swords, bo staffs and the 3 piece staff", the voice continued. I had been staring at the ground, the cracks in the asphalt reminding oddly of the surface of Mars. The surface of Mars this wasn't, as Mars is very, very cold and it was, in fact, hotter than 40 rats fucking in a wool sock where I was. It suddenly and with much apprehension occurred to me that no one had acknowledged the voice and that did not bode well. It meant that it was entirely possible that when and if I looked up, I would see that the body to which the non-disembodied voice might belong might well be looking at me. I sighed, resigned myself to my fate, and looked up. 

I saw standing directly between me and the sun, a silhouette of a slender male figure. I squinted and looked at him closer and saw what can only be described as an Eminem clone, except dressed very poorly and shabbily. He also had dark brown hair. Ok, he didn't really look that much like Eminem after all, but his appearance made me think of Eminem, so I don't know. I noted that his shoes said "Etnies" on them, which I deduced must be a Latin term meaning "guy who is going to annoy you." The most remarkable thing about his appearance was the small, nerdy spectacles on his nose accompanied by the sunglasses on top of his head. That is an awful lot of eye wear for a head bearing only two eyes. 

I looked at him but did not respond because I had created the hope in my mind that he still might not actually be talking to me but actually might be talking to the voices in his head. Please god, let him be psychotic and delusional, I silently prayed. 

"You mean like the ninja turtles?" said a new voice, off to my right. I thanked the gods that someone nearby had heard his proclamations and simply could not resist inquiring. The new voice belonged to a light skinned black male wearing a white t-shirt that said something about music. Sensing interest being generated in his immediate vicinity, the owner of voice #1 whipped around and faced the owner of voice #2. 

"Yeah, kinda, but that ninja turtle stuff is bullshit. They have no clue how bad you can hurt yourself with that stuff" said the kinda-Eminem stunt double with an indignant air of authority. I could hear his sense of superiority growing. "Yeah, no kidding!" said voice #2. 

"I mean, you know, you need to be highly trained for that stuff. That is why I did it. It ain't no joke!" said voice #1 with clearly growing vim and vigor (yes, both). Voice #2 quickly and enthusiastically agreed that the ninja turtles probably did not treat the weaponry with the respect it clearly deserved. Those damned ninja turtles were a joke, they suspected. I imagine that they both secretly doubted the ninja turtles were even legitimate ninjas at all. 

I turned my head and looked back at the ground and suddenly wished I was on Mars, deathly cold or not. I thought long and hard about trying to explain to the two men that there was a considerable amount of evidence that would suggest that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were not actually real, and therefore what weapons they used, how they used them and whether or not they were proficient or serious enough about them may not really matter. It was not the first nor last time that I felt a deep sense of regret that I ever gave up drinking heavily. With any luck I'll have a massive seizure and be hauled bodily away from this train wreck of a conversation. 

I can only assume that both men will garner much knowledge and accolades from this training session with flying colors. Once the team leads and HR find out that they have genuine ninjas and ninja enthusiasts in their midst, what choice do they really have? I just can't help but wonder if he included "ninja training" on his resume. Sometimes I really wished I worked in Human Resources. 

I hope your day was better than mine.

Stalling

I have this damn self assessment to do for work. Its my one year anniversary in which case I do not get cheese, wine, boytoys, hookers, chocolate, or a card. I get this stupid assessment. Someone at head office seriously needs to look into that bull shit. Would it be too much to expect a free coffee? So here I sit going over the most ridiculous questions that are posed in the format of answering in the 3rd person? Who the hell comes up with this stuff?