this is how you all feel about me, isn't it? (you don't have to answer that)
I went hiking last weekend and I fell (not surprising). This fall wasn't that awesome. All I did was have a moment of sheer klutzery and scrape my leg on some gravel (p.s. we were on a trail not meant for humans, so it was kind of the mountain's fault, not mine). But now everybody wants to be my friend so they can find out what the heck happened to my leg. I've decided to start making a tally of how many times a day I get asked, "What happened to your leg?!" followed by the inevitable hairy eyeball. Strangers and friends alike have all gaped at my gash. What's worse is that I can't shave it (ew, just thinking of that makes me want to gag a little), so now it's hairy and scabby.
Now that I've used "hairy and scabby" in the same sentence to describe myself, this blog has reached a new low. Again, I'd like to thank the academy. What academy I'm thanking I'm not so sure. I'll get back to you.
My new job has become another new job as I got promoted, and went through training yet again. Our trainer described the new job thus: "You guys are basically fancy babysitters." Right you are! What she means to say is, I call people and make sure they're going to their doctor's appointment so they don't get denied, I call social security offices around the country to make sure they're getting our paperwork, and in the meantime I hear some preeettty hilarious stuff. For example:
- "Dear Mr. So-and-so, we are denying you for disability benefits because we found you are in prison for murdering someone. Also, you missed your appointment on such-and-such day." Well duh. Of course he did. But what was that about murdering someone?
- "Dear Mrs. So-and-so, we are denying you for disability benefits because we found your assets exceed the limit social security has established. We found that your husband has $1,000,000 in his bank account." Yeah, she was pretty mad about the government finding that one out. I"m sorry to say that when that happens, some people actually say, "Well if I get a divorce from my spouse will their assets affect me?" For reals. Free money is not worth it.
- And then sometimes the state social security offices are busy (and by sometimes I mean always), and I get to call the national Social Security office. Which is the ultimate experience in facepalming. I've decided to make a collage in my cubicle of awesome art I have created while being on hold with social security. By the way, these are no mediocre doodles. They can take all dang day! And ya, that means it can take all dang day to get in touch with someone at that number. And then when you finally tell them you're so-and-so's attorney, they go, "Um, your name isn't on the 1696 is it?" (1696=the form that says we represent the client). "Well, no, but Brad Myler's name is on it" (he's the head honcho). "Ok, well if your name isn't on it then I can't give you any information." "But-but-but I was on hold for fifteen--" BAM. Facepalm. Guys, the club cannot handle me right now. I want to wring the club's metaphorical neck sometimes. Ugh.
Alright, now if that last paragraph wasn't passive-aggressive enough for you, I suggest going to CNN and reading in the comments section below any article.
I promise I'll be better about this blogging thing. It's just that the end of summer is kind of whacked up. We run around like crazy headless chickens for three months, and sweat out everything we thought we had to sweat, and watch Utah burn to a crisp, and then bam! It's all over and we're making pancakes on the first morning of school and taking pictures of zombie-eyed children in their classy new clothes. I'll admit, I am jealous of everyone starting school again. I miss it so. Especially in the fall.
Speaking of fall, it's almost that time again. That "mellow, leaf-kicking pause." The mysterious months when the ground crunches everywhere you go and the wind bites your cheek as it brushes past. I basically lurve it and I wish it was fall time all the time. In my heaven, that's what it will be. So if you're planning on coming to visit me up there (and I know you are), just be sure to wear your cords/boots/knee socks/beanies/scarves/peacoats. Or whatever the heavenly equivalent to those things are...maybe like a wool robe or something?
Geesh, that sounds itchy and awful. Forget that idea. Whatever you wear, just make sure it's kosher for some pumpkin-picking, leaf-pile-jumping, soup-consuming celestialness. Aight?
(it's okay, I don't know what I just said either)
maybe in my heaven I'll let cats come if they look as cool as this one does.
or maybe it's just the dead leaves that make him look cool.
let's not get too hasty, now, shall we?
5 comments:
What? No picture of your leg?
She's baaack! So glad. Love your posts you hairy scabby girl you.
oh deary me, I have missed your blogging! Also, marcus always says to me, "i like you but you're crazy." it's quite fitting I believe. Now let's not pay attention to my weird capitalization and lack there of.
Ah Kenz. If you get tired of woolen fall heaven you can visit my pleasantly springy one & pick flowers in linen robes. I feel your pain on the hair scab thingy. I have been nursing a few hairy leg wounds myself. haha. At least you're making wound-curious friends along the way.
OHHH I love it when you blog! You are a gifted writer and I love coming here to laugh! I'm dreaming of an itchy wool robe right now!
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