to get a letter from the state saying that you're illegally working and have basically committed a class B misdemeanor that is upon conviction, punishable as provided by law is not what you want to hear when you get home from work on a thursday after sitting through a 3 1/2 hour meeting where you only got to actually speak for about 10 minutes.
this is where i found myself yesterday though - holding the fateful letter, bursting into tears at the fear of what was ahead, already frantic because my bedroom door had been shut by someone (or something) other than myself and i had already caused a near hernia as i cussed at the doorknob and spent like 5 minutes before i was able to jiggle the knob just right and enter my crimson walled abode. the flood of emotions continued to pour as i told my wet, newly showered, in a towel roommate erin about her new convict roommate who she probably would be seeing for the last time because i thought i was either going to lose my job and not be able to pay rent, and/or was headed right for the state pen for 5-10. after some prayers, friends, pizza, finding out that clay on the apprentice was gay, and that zoe was in fact born in 1990 and had had several sexual partners, i lay awake until midnight worrying, my orange jumpsuit folded on the edge of my bed, ready to go (i just had one last finishing touch with the bedazzler left).
as i woke up this morning thoughts raced through my brain and i got to work at 10 after 7 - ready to face the guillotine. i stuck my head in the chopping block, prayed for the Lord to take me now, and picked up the phone....
keep reading because this is where my story takes a turn for the better (although i know that most of you were giddy at the thought of me in an orange one-sy and the very unlikely, but possible conjugal visits i was to receive)....
so, this all said, through a series of phone calls and emails, the state department of education lady is pulling some strings for me, and my supervisor and my head boss were completely understanding about the paper-work screwups that led to the infamous letter and assured me that i would not lose my job and would not be found in handcuffs on fox news tonight at 5, 6, and 10 (they had no way of knowing that i actually would be on the news tonight because i decided to strip down to my skibbes in front of some construction workers downtown). so, the bulk of the day's craziness should be over right?.....but not quite yet.
after hand delivering some documents downtown (this was after the skibbe incident of 2005), i proceeded to the gas station because of course, i was on empty. i had no idea that the the bp would bring me anything other than gas (the fuel for my car kind, mind you), but in addition, i was given the grand prize. a new nickname. there was a man walking around after i exited the station that yelled out to me, "hey flower pot! you're looking good today. are you going home already? would to like to have some new women's perfume?" i told him that i was on my way back to work (which i was actually happy about doing considering the day's events), and was not interested. flower pot, eh? this is a day that will live in infamy.
5 comments:
way to get your universe name...
wow...that's not a letter that i would want to get! and not to be nit-picky, but i think the word is "skivvies"...isn't it?
yes donna - it probably is "skivvies" but there was this girl growing up whose last name was skibbe so pretty much all of us oxfordians started refering to them as skibbes....who even coined the term "skivvies" for underwear anyway?
it was derived in 1932 as a nautical slang term, but it's origin is unknown. however, skivvy or skivey is english slang for a "female domestic servant" (1902). you can infer what you like from it, but i think the elements are coming together sir...
oh...i mean..."i don't know where it comes from."
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