There's a reason the villain has a twirly moustache

A few posts ago, I wrote about the affectations of a moustachioed hipster I had to work with in the context of planning an event for work.

Now, this is a post for laughter - not for whining - but also to prove that, yes, it's true! The guy with the long moustaches is always the villain.

Yosemite Sam...

Bill the Butcher...

 

Snidely Whiplash...

The Purple Pie Man. You get the point.

I arrive and he fails to tell me there is a loading zone. He gets me a parking space that's the equivalent of several long city blocks away from the event space.

Now, if you're ever done events or even been to an event, you'll note that there are things to bring - in this case, packets of info, pens, fliers, etc. Which makes for a very heavy box.

Halfway to my destination from the faraway lot, thinking my arms are going to snap like twigs, I flag down a guy with a little cart and beg for help. (This, after several people who have seen me struggling to carry the box discreetly look away and keep walking.)

Luckily, he is the guy bringing the food to my event. (Note: the trays of food weigh less than my box, and he has a cart! I only have arms. How does this happen?)

I get there and Mr. Twirly Moustache, who was supposed to meet me, is a no-show. The signs that are supposed to be outside directing people to the event are also MIA.

And of course, I have left my phone in the car.

I run back and when I get there, my volunteers still aren't there - because there are no signs, and they're totally lost.

45 minutes after he is supposed to have met me, a pissed-off looking Mr. Twirly Moustache appears and tells me, "I dropped everything because I got a call that you wanted to see me!"

I ask him where the signs are.

"They got rained on."

Hello. This is the NORTHWEST,  in WINTER. There is rain virtually every day. Why didn't he put them in plastic?

Did I mention the room is also set up exactly the way I asked him not to set it up? And that they forgot to give us silverware?

I am not making this up. I wanted to unroll those windy moustaches and give them a good hard yank.

Fortunately, the event itself was a success and our members were happy, even if they had to eat with their fingers.

But the moral of the story is...if you see twirly moustaches, run. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Things I would really, really like to say, but won't

Except here. Now, I should state that the bulk of people are fantastic advocates. A handful are a huge pain in the ass and time vampires and did I mention I have PMS? And will be happy when the upcoming event is over? Because I am SO tired of hearing:

"Where are we meeting (at the event)?"
At the place listed, address included, on the registration form that you filled out.

"Where exactly is the building?
On the map I emailed you. Twice.

"Can you send me a list of bullet points about that legislation?"
For the third time, or the fourth?

"I know the registration deadline was two weeks ago, and you're full, but can't you make an exception for me?"
Why, yes! I can physically expand the room we're in and miraculously clear legislative calendars, just to make room for you!

"When is it again?"
The times are listed on the same form you filled out and then, apparently, burned, so you could bother me.

"Should I bring quarters for parking?"
Maybe you could skateboard and save yourself the trouble.

"But I don't want to wait until (X time) to meet with (legislator X.) Couldn't you get me something earlier?"
Yes, I could have, but I decided that you had nothing better to do. It has nothing to do with the fact that they're in the middle of a legislative session and their calendars are extremely tight.

"Why can't I meet with (legislator X) even though I don't live in his/her district?"
Because I don't like you, that's why.

Wish me luck...and patience. The other night, as we were watching Dr. Who, I heard my new favorite quote: "Patience is for wimps!"

Mr. RK said, "You have found your spirit guide!"

This week, at work, really.

I receive an email from someone thanking me for the interview, but declining to do an internship. The caveat: I've never met or interviewed this person. There is another person at one of our local chapters in another county that has the same first name as me - that's who she interviewed with. You'd think she'd get the contact information right.

I get a phone call from a hypnotherapist, who says, over and over, "I am really good at what I do!" (Don't tell me...hypnotize me. Oh wait, you charge money for that.)

I get in this morning and find four empty beer bottles in the sink. My boss walks in and says to my coworker, "Sorry I didn't clean up after the board meeting, I was totally just wiped out and went home!" I say, "The beer bottle cleanup? That was me." Who the hell knows what they get up to at board meetings? One morning I came in after a meeting and I found Brazil nuts and glitter on the floor.

A person who tried to convince my biggest sponsor not to support our organization anymore, after being kicked off of our board and being turned down for a job at our organization a few years ago, is now asking for a FREE table at our biggest event. (Yes, you heard me snickering.)

Tomorrow we're at an all day training, and because it's a small group of us, we're going to lunch, rather than having stuff delivered. The restaurant is called HoHo. Really.

How has your week been?

Do you know where your shoes have been?

They know I'm blogging about it - how could I not blog about it?

I met someone for lunch today - two someones - and we started in on girl talk and shoes. (This was weird to begin with, because I never do that, but Someone #1 liked my shoes, commented on them, and I apparently wear the same size shoe that she does.)

She said, "If you ever have shoes that you don't wear anymore -"

You're expecting the rest of the sentence to end like this:

"...I know a great charity."

Or this:

"I'll totally take them off your hands."

But it ended like this:

"Well...let me tell you when we're seated and there aren't so many people around."

HMM?

It turns out that Someone #1 has a friend supporting a partner who is disabled. She works full-time but has a totally anonymous, totally legal business...modeling shoes. In photos for foot fetishists. People actually pay this person quite a lot of money simply to take pictures of her feet in certain pairs of shoes and send them the pictures.

Clearly I'm in the wrong line of work.

I think this person must also wear the same size shoe that I do, but I was too surprised to actually know someone who has a friend that does this to take much in.

And as luck (or perversion) would have it, there was a bag of shoes in my trunk ready to go to Goodwill.

Someone #1 said, "No way! These will be PERFECT! You're supporting a good cause...in a way."

I said, "Just don't tell me what happens to them."

So you know how sometimes I feel like my life is a sitcom? More and more, it seems like it's becoming Portlandia.

People fatigue

Instead of writing a post about today's Hallmark holiday, here are my thoughts in a nutshell:

So we'll move onto work. Now, I love working for an advocacy organization. Mental health is not a sexy cause, even though 1 in 4 adults and 1 in 10 kids has a mental illness, and I'm happy to advocate on behalf of the underdog. (And here is a special shout-out for all of my friends who have donated to our upcoming walk - thank you! And a link if you want to learn more and do so. Ta-da.)

I'm also pretty organized. You combine the willingness to ask for funds, a big mouth, and being a Virgo, and presto! You become the events person.

Somehow, I am working in some capacity on each of this year's five events. My brain is fried. I have made more than 160 legislative appointments in the past four days. I don't even know how I am writing this post, except that I want to bitch about politicians.

I can now safely say, even on the local level, once a politician, always a politician. Even if they haven't been elected yet. I'd like to know, are these guys (and gals) just born bullshitters? Are they all totally full of themselves?

Today, I get a call and the first thing the guy says, after he says, "This is so-and-so," is, "Google me."

What I wanted to say: "WAT? Excuse me. I am not at the beck and fucking call of some random guy, and by the way, are you a porn star? What exactly am I going to find if I Google you, and why the hell should I?"

What I said instead: "So-and-so, what exactly can I do for you?"

It turns out this guy wanted to sign up for our upcoming lobby day and guess what? He lost a legislative race in the last election. He wanted me to Google him so I knew who he was. Then he proceeded to go on and on about tax reform, guns, etc. AND he wanted an appointment with the opponent he lost to last fall.

I had to let him know politely but firmly that our lobby day was actually going to be about advocating for a bill we're introducing that would help fund housing around the state.

"Oh, of course," he said, and proceeded to tell me all about how he was "colleagues" with his opponent before he lost, and how he got the guy a card when his wife had cancer, and...

I am not making this up.

I finally cut him off. He called back later, got one of my volunteers on the phone - ostensibly to join our organization - and went on about... tax reform. And oh, yes, he might not make it to the appointments on our lobby day.

Twenty minutes of my life that I will NEVER get back.

Then I am exchanging emails with someone from a state representative's office. I give her the names and hometowns of the constituents.

She writes, "Just so you know, that city is not in our district."

Now, I run everyone's address and ZIP through the legislative website. I have a moment of abject panic, double-check again, and guess what? The site says that person is indeed their legislator.

I call the rep's office.

She says, "Oh, we do have a few people from that city in our district."

Thank you for making me sweat through my clothes with anxiety for no reason.

On a more humorous note, I made an appointment with the senate leader for one of our members. Then my boss decided to go. This senator, who has an amazing amount of local power but no people skills, has actually yelled at many people, my boss included, in the past. Astoundingly, after my boss decided to go to the appointment, the senator decided to send a staff person in his place because he could no longer make it.

I get another call from someone who is trying to register a week late and tells me I need to go out of my way to get him in.

Then he says, "I'm not really excited about this."
WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I might as well go out of my way for you then, shouldn't I?

Some people have winter fatigue. I have people fatigue. Particularly political people fatigue. Say that five times fast.

Boys and their toys

Mr. RK and I have a completely different take on electronics. I hate spending money on them, and I could care less how many RAM/GIG/etc. the computer has, how many megapixels a camera has, etc.
(I mean, when we met, I was using dial-up internet, and this was 2004.)

Granted, I'm a bit enamored of the convenience of the newest, highest speed internet he insisted on getting, as well as the smart phone.

However, suddenly I am sitting in front of a new computer monitor so huge I am tempted to ask if Mr. RK is feeling insecure, and a new computer that I can't tell is any different than the last one.

My idea: Use a computer - or other electronic appliance - until it breaks, then see if we can fix it. Only buy a new (cheap) one if we absolutely fucking have to.
Mr. RK: "The new computer monitor has much better color saturation!"
Me: "WAT?"

I think I would feel better if I came home and found him installing a home movie theater, because the monitor is freaking big enough for that. I guess size matters.

On the other hand, I have no qualms about plunking down money for books (although I usually buy them at our local used bookstore), mochas (yum), or running shoes (this is going to affect how my legs look, after all.)

What do you hate spending money on? What do you not think twice about?

Luckily, he didn't have to sign for it

Wordless Wednesday...OK, a few words Wednesday.

I  was expecting my vet to send the medicine refill for my cat in the mail. I was not expecting the package to come ADDRESSED TO MY CAT, care of me.

In fact, I didn't even get any mail!

Mr. RK and I find it humorous, though, that both cats' "last names" are my last name, even though we have both taken them to the vet. (Mr. RK and I have different last names.)

Mr. RK says he has no comment, but he is going to go look for his pants.

Blah

Sorry for the lack of posting, the past few days have come with a stomach bug and general blah, for various reasons. My success rate has sort of been like the second guy in this clip:

So I am focusing on things that make me laugh, and feel better, such as the fact that said stomach bug will not last forever, and I am getting to watch a movie with David Suchet (Poirot) as the villain! For you fellow BBC addicts, it also features Richard Coyle as a con man (Jeff from Coupling), Manuel from Fawlty Towers as a postman (Andrew Sachs), and Tamsin Greig as a reporter (Green Wing, Black Books.) Check it out.

Back soon with more wit.

Why be discreet?

You have to love an app that signs you up for an emergency condom delivery service.

That's right - if you haven't read about this, Durex will now "discreetly" deliver condoms within an hour to those in need.

By "discreetly," apparently their delivery people will pose as pizza delivery people, or "a lost tourist" (huh?), etc.

I'm just curious though...why be discreet? Wouldn't you want the neighborhood to know you're getting some? I think I know some people who would even call others to let them know, and then take pictures of the delivery man arriving!

In fact, this could start to be a status thing. Why not have them come by (no pun intended) four or five times a day? It could get competitive!

Would you use such a service? Inquiring minds want to know. Inquiring minds also want to know, where were you fuckers (also no pun intended) when I needed you back in college?