Phallacy
The Bureaucratic Paper Fairy has dumped on me mightily this week. Have you noticed how that kind of thing will completely zap your creativity? This frumpy little freak sneaks into your office and litters your desk with page after page after page of useless muck. Then just when you think she's done, and you can get started on dealing with the mess, she backs a truck up to the door and dumps the whole load.
I hate her.
If I ever get my hands on her grey polyester skirt suit (you know the one I mean - and she always wears a plain white blouse with one of those floophy 'lady' bow tie things at the neck.) I'm gonna strangle her with the mouse cord. I'm gonna sharpen some pencils and stick 'em as far up her nose as they will go. I'm gonna wad up all those papers and stuff them down her throat, one by one. Then I'll beat her about the head and shoulders with my phone. After that, I will run over the dang phone with my truck. Repeatedly.
And after that?
After that I'm gonna get really creative. You got any suggestions?
15 comments:
You are cracking me up.
Oh my, is all I can say about the picture.
And I think your ideas with the fairy sound good. Only then you will just turn around and do them all AGAIN. Because that's what bureaucracy is good for.
The only thought in my head is, "oh, dear God, don't let Rach get mad at ME!"
I HATE her too. And I think you described her very well. She has also been in my office.
She kills a lot of trees.
The two stones in the middle really love one another.
Yes, it would appear that your creativity is really suffering...she says tongue firmly planted in cheek. What a creative list of ways to beat the lady-skirt.
You're methods are pretty thorough, but I'm taking a moment to channel my inner Cheney...uhhhhh....
How about locking her in the store room & piping in the sound of the fax machine as it's cranking into gear... playing it over and over very loudly for about 3-4 hours.
Oh, and maybe before you lock her in the room, force her to drink two pots of dank office coffee.
Nah, this isn't bad enough. I'll keep thinking.
Oooh, I hate that lady too. In the church she hands us stupid demographic reports to complete, such as how many in the congregation are between these age groups, and of these ethnicities, and participate in worship, Sunday school, etc. 'Cause we just know Jesus was having the disciples fill-out those reports after his sermons.
Can we still be friends if I admit that in the early-mid 80s I used to wear those lady bow ties? Dave's not sure he would have married me if he'd known. :) I didn't have the gray polyester skirt, though.
I will pray for you Kim. ~moment of silence~
Will we still be friends if I admit that during the brief periods of my life that I have been responsible for demographic reports, that I just made the numbers up? I gave it an educated guess, turned it into the state and went back to doing the real work. Everyone was happy.
damn. she's been in my house cuz that's where my office is... grrrrrrrr
I know how awful busy you've been.
I found her and melted her. The rest I'm selling on eBay
Now you can play again.
*waves hands in air* No thanks are necessary.
You can definitely be my demographic report friend. The same ones that Kim describes? Yep, I've educatedly guessed on those. Or just added and subtracted from what we said last year. And if I come up with a round number like 10? Sounds too made-up, so I write down 9 or 11. And then someone takes said demographic reports and makes grand pronouncements on the data therein. (How was that for a bureaucratic sentence?).
was making up the numbers recently myself with e's reasoning - 20 sounds made-up so I'll guess 18 - reasonable!!
Love your creative torture - how about actually melting the polyester on her PG? although no profit on ebay for a melted fairy encased in poly...
Ha! Is it ironic that I organized all my papers and bills yesterday? Deep, cleansing breaths...
sounds to me, Rach, like you are fixing to get postmodern on her a**
Dang those communist sumbitches, saving us from ourselves again! Now how do they expect me to get compensation for Uncle Dewey's truck next time he drives home from the Dew Drop Inn if they put up warning lights on that there crossing?
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