*sniffle* I'm the biggest sports nerd.

There's a new female attorney in my office who plays fantasy football. That fact aside, I like her a lot. (I'm opposed to all fantasy sport leagues. I think it takes away from the team aspect of the game although I'm very familiar with the pros, so don't lecture me.)

We were at a work conference this week and one of my male co-workers (whom I've wrote about in the past, ahem, pesos jackass) described the her as "probably the girl in the office with the most sports knowledge." I've spoken with this male co-worker (who I'll refer to as Jackass Yankees Fan or JYF) on a few different occasions about baseball. JYF assumes I know nothing because a) I'm a "girl" and b) I'm not a JYF. Um, dude? MY team's 3 games out. Your team is in shambles. Let's talk next season, kay? He's never once brought up the subject of football or basketball or any other sport for that matter. He never even discussed the Olympics with me, which we all know I was all over.

So how does he know the new woman has the most sports know-how? It's obviously an unresearched statement, at best and a downright fabrication at worst.

I know it seems petty to obsess over something so slight but as any woman sports fan can tell you, random baseball and/or football conversations are few and far between, at least as compared to our male counterparts. Of course the bf and I can discuss until we're blue in the face (although his baseball knowledge, which he touted when we first started dating, is seriously lacking - is this what "fraud" means in those weirdo annulments?) but what about the watercooler? I keep up with a lot of the breaking sports news through my online connection to the world (i.e. my computer at work), and I can only call the bf randomly during the day so many times.

It's like JM and S (hello!), two of my very good friends who are dating. Neither JM (the man) nor S (the woman) are seriously into sports but S is very enthusiastic. And JM constantly makes fun of her for getting excited when we watch a sporting event together, which is completely odd to me because why wouldn't you get excited when someone's scoring a touchdown, swimming a race, hitting an ace, or knocking one out of the ballpark? If S were a guy (all oddities in the scenario removed of course), would JM make fun of her/him for being excited about sports even if he/she admitted he/she didn't watch all the time? Of course there's the whole bf/gf dynamic I'm overlooking but I'm trying to illustrate a point.

What this all comes down to is that I want to be the woman in the office (not the girl - I won't even get into the naked misogynist undertones of JYF referring to the new co-worker as a girl) who knows the most about sports. I'm willing to go head-to-head in a little sports trivia with the new co-worker to earn the title, although I'm not sure she'd be willing as she doesn't label herself as a sports afficiando, and hell, I'm willing to go head-to-head with the men in my office too. I bet a million dollars I'd be in the top 10%, especially if the trivia involved actual, present-day strategies, rules, regulations, players, etc. I love the sports trivia person who can name every Heisman trophy winner but can't tell me the ins and outs of small ball play. (I'm looking at you bf.)

On a related note, the 'Stros are 3 games out!! I will admit I had no confidence. I was wrong. Go Astros, Go!*

*I can only hope Ike doesn't ruin their winning streak since they have to postpone at least 2 games against the Cubs (who the swept last series) due to sheer freaks of nature. And for those that care, I doubt my town will even see a drop of rain, much like the great Rita Dustbowl of 2005. Although I am moving my new car in a parking garage tonight, just in case the trees of never-ending falling branches at my house decide to multiply, like they did a few months ago with the old car.

And then there was meat.

The meat story.

Guy called me at work seeking out some phone numbers and addresses. I went to a government agency's website and gave them to him (all stuff he could have done himself, which is not to say I wasn't happy to help but to signify how slight the help I gave him was).

A few days later an Admin walks in my office and tells me she has a package for me but can't open it and can she borrow my scissors? I hand them to her, she perches the package on the edge of my desk as she cuts into the the thing, starts to reach in the envelope, starts giggling (which made me look up from my oh-so-busy-and-time-consuming spreadsheet), and begins to pull out what I was certain was a ziploc bag full of black hair.

Upon further examination, which was difficult given that I'd slammed my chair (and myself) far across my office to get away from the bag of hair, we realized it was not hair but was, instead, some form of dried meat product.

My loud use of words and phrases (i.e. "what the fuck!" and "who the fuck sends shit like that in the mail?") attracted another co-worker to my office. When he realized it was a bag 'o meat, he reached his hand in, grabbed a hunk, tore into it like the savage beast (read: stupid) we all knew he was, and said "tasty" right before he walked back down the hall with the remaining hunk still clutched between his clammy, dumb hands. (Hands can be stupid - see: hands of a person who take random meat products out of unknown packages and feed them to said person's stupid mouth.)

There was a note inside that said the "meat" was homemade and thanks for helping aforementioned guy. But no notice as to what kind of meat product it was. The guy was from Arkansas and while I hate to be state-ist, who knows what they turn into edible products over there? Now I'm assuming it was a beef jerky of sorts but I have no way of knowing for sure.

Oh and did I mention that I don't eat beef? And just an fyi, although I wouldn't classify my job as dangerous, more than once my name or other people at my office's name has come up in correspondence to and from jail cells. Just saying.

Luckily the dumb co-worker didn't die. Luckily my office can't accept gifts. Luckily there's a homeless guy who hangs out right around the corner from my building. Luckily he was there, that fate meat day, and luckily he accepted my offer or dried meat product.

Long story short: grossest fucking day ever.

Pet Peeves, Issue #435,598

Pet Peeve: Guys who think they know better than girls because the topic is a "guy" type of topic, or better yet, because they have a penis.

Scenario: I'm in the elevator at work when two of my guy co-workers jump in. We all say hello, exchange pleasantries, etc. They continue on with their conversation re: money in Mexico (for one of the guy's upcoming vacation). I jump in the coversation - and while I'll admit that maybe is a bit impolite, these are two coworkers I'm very comfortable with and have lunch with - and mention that the dollar goes over better than the peso in Mexico in most places. Jackass coworker #1 says that if you throw a 10 peso at a person for a tip, they'll flip out and give you the best service ever. I laughed out loud and said that I was certain he'd get a better response from people if he tipped with dollars or at least more pesos than that. (I mean 10? Hello? That's $1.) They both looked at me and jackass #1 said "just give them a 10 peso," in a manner that strongly suggested I did not know of which I was speaking. And then they promptly went back to talking and completely ignored me the rest of the elevator ride and the walk through our floor as we were all going back to our offices.

I am a bit beyond pissed. In my grand, old age I'm beginning to have less desire to rein in my anger than perhaps I did when I used to run into situations like this frequently: in law school. In law school I would be so taken aback by such blatant behavior that I'd spend my time shocked that the situation was occuring. Then I learned to stop being shocked by bad behavior because it was inhibiting my ability to react. That's not to say I did anything more in this particular elevator. I didn't. I stood quietly as my opinions were derided because I was a girl and therefore couldn't possibly know anything about money. (Did I mention we work in a finance-related field?) Hence the livid anger. But! I was not shocked at the behavior and I knew exactly what was happening as it happened.

And don't worry. I'll have my revenge. I'm completely vindictive and passive-aggressive at work (when I'm not being aggressive-aggressive), and Jackass #1 will pay, most likely in a large group of our peers. The best payback is public payback.

Oh and again - hello? Do you know anyone, Mexico or not, that would bend over backwards for you for a $1 tip? I don't think so. It's not like they have no concept of money in Mexico. They know very well how much a $1 is. And they especially know how little 10 pesos are. So give me a goddamned break, jackass coworker #1.

I have blood underneath my fingernails.

Gross.

But really it's my own fault. My boss was getting so excited (i.e. annoying) about a case that I got completely frustrated and took it out on a tiny, little, head itch. The least he could have done was leave me be so I could express my disgruntledness (word?) verbally but no. He had to stick around and make sure I thoroughly agreed with and enjoyed his excitement. As a result I have a self-inflicted injury. And I couldn't even yelp out loud when I did it because I was still in his presence. How do you tell someone you just scratched your head so hard that there's a high (although temporary) level of pain and blood? It just doesn't come out right.

On a different note, squishy and I are tied 1 to 1 in the epic battle of subpar baseball team series. And I'd still like to point out, even though the 'Stros played the Red Sox last weekend (and creamed 'em!), we still never made it to the front page of any non-local sports headline site, i.e. si.com or espn.com or yahoo.com or any other one you can think of.

I'm either the best or the worst coworker evah!

I had a salmon pouch for lunch. Ever try one of those? They're right by the tuna fish in the "canned meat" aisle. It was my first foree into pouched meat. It was disgusting. Not as disgusting as that sun-dried tomato/basil tuna turned out to be but gross enough to keep me from enjoying it's cheap, cheap price and protein-rich nutritional stats.

Anyway. I had to heat the salmon in the microwave and I through the pouch away (and some of the pouch juice) in the nearby trashcan. We have a real kitchen in our office and a mini-kitchen in our division of the office. This was in the mini-kitchen, which is also conveniently located right in the middle of a few offices.

I could possibly be the worst coworker ever because I put a pouch of fish in a trashcan that's sure to offend many people. I could be the best coworker ever because as soon as I finished my salmon (ugh!) I realized if the smell of the napkin I'd used was nauseating, I'm sure the trashcan I'd deposited the pouch into was waaaay worse. So I took out the trash. At work. See how great I am? I put our trash in the big kitchen's trash bin but no matter. I still removed it from the office area. That's what's important right?

I'm totally boring today because I'm sleep deprived.

BUT there was a small victory around the office today. The boss ordered these delicious cookies and brownies for Admin Prof Day from the place I always recommend (soooo goood!), and I abstained. It wasn't a day to appreciate me or anything so it wasn't terribly difficult to do, although I did sniff the brownie box - repeatedly.

Is there a regular employee day? There's a Boss's Day and an Admin Day but what about the rest of us? I once asked my mom why there wasn't a Kid Day since there was a Mother's Day and Father's Day (or is it Mothers' and Fathers'?), and she said everyday was a Kid Day. Although I still call bullshit on that argument, it's validity is a lot stronger for kids than regular working stiffs. So how come we don't get a damn day?

The reason I'm sleep deprived? Two prong. I became rabidly obsessed with finding a crack for a stupid online game last night. I mean, seriously. Cake Mania 2 is not worth it. But when I'm obsessed, look out, especially if I'm obsessed with something completely devoid of worth. And then I had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for my fucking Pilates class. It was good though. We learned some weird leg/push up thing that basically looks like you're rock climbing only you're doing it across the floor. I can't remember the name of it. Basically you get in runners pose (that weird stretch running type people do with your hands on the ground, one leg bent over your ankle, and one leg extended behind you), you climb your hands out in front of you, one at a time, until you're in a push up position with both legs out behind you, do a push up (or use the opportunity to cry, if you're me), then bring the leg that wasn't bent before up under you in another runner's pose, climb your hands out to a push up postion again, etc., etc., etc. You do it all the way across the dance room studio floor thing. If you're doing it right you look like you're rock climbing across the floor with while doing push ups. It's very impressive. If you're doing it wrong, like me, you look like you're doing some weird sort of bear crawl across the ground. I never could do cartwheels either.

No inchworm though this week, Squishy. Maybe next week.

Axe Body Spray

My day was made yesterday about 4:00 p.m. by an Admin in my office. Why, you ask? Apparently she noticed a bad odor coming from the kitchen(esque) area in the hallway. She complained that it smelled like fish. Our boss offered to spray his "good-smelling stuff" to cover the odor. Into his office she went where he presented her with his secret against bad odors - Axe Body Spray. As he sprayed the little, black, aerosol can into the air she coughed and sputtered and excused herself to her office where I found her, a short while later and she relayed the story to me.

This same boss has certain, how shall I say?, odor issues himself. While I distinctly prefer to overwhelming smell of man/boy cologne to the underlying offensive... odors, I've always wondered how the man/boy cologne smell seemed to grow and get stronger at certain points during the day. Now I know. It's the repetitive use of Axe. Body. Spray.

So while the Admin was busy complaining of an oncoming migraine, I was happily skipping back to my office to make a phone call to an ex-coworker with whom I'd developed many alternative tricks for compensating for the above odor issues.

If you can't comprehend why this made my day, imagine all those "sexy" Axe commercials and then picture your own smell-challenged boss. If that doesn't produce a guffaw or two, your boss is not nearly as physically repulsive as mine.

Electric Youth?

I swear to god someone in my office building wears Electric Youth perfume. Remember that stuff? The Debbie Gibson fragrance? I remember it distinctly because a) I was madly in love with Debbie Gibson as a child and b) my mother stole the perfume from me and wore it every, single day. The smell is tied to my childhood. Turns out you can't really buy this stuff anymore. Whoever is wearing it must have stockpiled it from 1988...