If this blog was a cat it would be dead of neglect by now. Or maybe I would be dead because supposedly starving cats eat their owners. Wait, that's wrong. Maybe the owner has to be dead before the cat eats it. Like, the owner dies, the cat is starving, the cat eats the dead body. In either scenario someone ends up dead and that was my point in the first place. I'm sorry, what?

I hope the lady who cleans the office doesn't judge me because everything in my garbage can is food packaging. Who am I kidding, though? If I was the cleaning lady I would definitely be making judgments based on the contents of the trash. An entire bag of pretzels? Really? There are like 10 Starbucks cups in here. Do you know how many starving children you could feed with the money you're spending on overpriced lattes? Do you get paid to sit at your desk and eat, or what? I feel like I need to sneak my garbage out to the dumpster and then re-fill it with crumpled papers and other more work-related detritus. And maybe, like, a yogurt container, or an empty pack of seeds, so she thinks I'm health conscious. I won't do it though, because lazy.

I'd like to tell you my time away has been spent being productive and that is true, if you consider catching up on the DVR productive. Which I do. Having a clear DVR is like having a clear inbox, only better, because to achieve it you get to lie on the couch and watch TV and the same, sadly, cannot be said of the inbox.

I'd like to interject this nonsense to say that billing issues are the bane of my existence. My work existence, that is. I don't have billing issues in my real life because I understand the maths and because I pay my bills. Although I do keep getting threatening notices from Verizon about how they're going to take away my GECKO insurance employee discount, which I can't really even argue about since I stopped working for The Gecko in like 2007. I just add those to my "threatening letter" file which includes threatening letters from the HOA about my weeds and threatening letters from the county attorney about my court case. Not really but I do like the idea of filing things by tone, that seems useful.

Holy wall of text. Let's take a photo break. Here is a picture of a bug.

 I took this last weekend when I was camping because that's the kind of person I am. The kind that camps. Not really. Camping is fun if you like pretending you're homeless. Which I do, obviously. I was going to go on this hike with my boyfriend but when I felt like throwing up and passing out I realized I'm totally not in shape for 4.5 mile uphill hikes, even though I work out 5 days a week, which, what is that about? So instead I took a thousand pictures of bugs on my walk of shame back to the campground.


 It's funny when people from the city go to a place with nature because we had to furiously document every single flower so most things took ten times longer than they normally would have because everyone was taking pictures and looking for the right light and the right angle and it was kind of ridiculous but I did it too so whatever.


 I'm just saying it's kind of silly because when the place looks like this all you really have to do is aim your camera and shoot, and you'll get a good picture. Because it's beautiful, all on its own, no matter how well you can work your camera or if you even take it off auto mode at all. Which I did, thankyouverymuch.


Except for the part where Ranger Ron was showing us his snake. That's not a euphemism and that was not so beautiful. He had a whole wall of snake pens and there was this one, Mojove Rattlesnake, and he was So. Mad. He was all coiled up and angry and if you even dared to step close to his enclosure he started rattling like crazy and even though that snake was supposedly secured behind a plexiglass barrier, I didn't trust it, oh no I did not, and I got right on out of there.


The other thing we desert dwellers love and must obsessively photograph is water, because it's a strange and rare right for us and we must take the evidence back to our people or they might not believe such a place exists.

Well, I don't know if you've wasted enough time reading this but I've definitely wasted plenty of mine writing it and now I need a lunch break. Obviously I'm going to have to hide the evidence to avoid the (hypothetical) Fatty McFatFat assessment of the cleaning lady. Too bad cucumbers and grapes don't have wrappers.








Comments

Unknown said…
Ha ha funny stuff. Maybe you should find out the command post of your janitor and go look in her trash, and then find a way of letting her know subtly that happened. It probably won't matter, but maybe it'll make you feel better. I'm going to steal some of your pictures, btw.
Unknown said…
btw..."detritus" Good word.
GeleeneG said…
I also suffer from junk food trash guilt. I rationalize it by saying that since my food is kept out of sight in a cabinet that the cleaning people can't know whether I ate that 1 lb bag of m&ms in a day or a week. I also sometimes take trash home. Also, I'm pretty sure that food trash shame is a sign of an eating disorder.

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