New Jeers

"Happy New Year, everyone!  This year is going to be fantastic!"

I have to say, I detest this sentiment.  I've never liked New Year's Eve parties, or making resolutions.  I think it's all a big waste of time and energy.  In case you haven't been clued in, every day is the beginning of a new year.  Each day is a chance to start over, from scratch, and make things different than they've been before.

I take particular offense to someone telling me how fantabulous the upcoming year is going to be for us all.  Really, Kreskin?  Did you look into your crystal ball and see bluebirds, puppies and lottery jackpots for everyone, or are you just full of shit?  If you'd pressed pause on your life for a second and taken a look at mine, you'd see that things are far from fantabulous in the Noelle neck of the woods.  As hopeful as I'd like to be, I'm more realistic about the fact that things are going to be stormy for a while before the clouds start to break.  So don't insult my intelligence with your generalized niceties about how you just know things will be different this year.  You said that last year, and the year before that...  Was anything really that different?  Not particularly.

This isn't to say that I'm not hopeful for better things to come.  I am.  I want things in my life to be better than they are currently (read my previous blog to see a shining example of why).  I also know that things don't change with the ceremonious dropping of a ball in a far-flung city, or eating black-eyed peas and collard greens on New Year's Day.  I'll stick with the latter tradition because it's tasty, though.  Change takes work and dedication.  Change takes facing adversity.  It means finding something to believe in, and sticking with it even when everything seems like it can't get any worse.

Most of all, change means focusing on what you have right now and not being overly concerned with the future.  Things happen, plans change, promises get broken, lives get altered.  The only way to know for sure that things will come out okay is to focus on what you have right this minute, even if it isn't much at all.  I guess that's why I get upset at the notion of all this New Year's fanfare.

So stick your "Happy New Year!" midnight text where the sun don't shine.

I'm Not Sick, But I'm Not Well

I'll be the very first to admit that I talk smack. A lot. Actually, if I were to be totally candid, I talk smack more than a lot. Most of the crap that comes out of my mouth is complete shit, which I probably could never back up with skillz, ya know? That being said, I find myself fairly witty. I think this is the kiss of death for most people. Usually people who find themselves witty seem to be the only ones who do. Luckily I'm blessed. Quite a few other people find me fairly snarky and smart as well (toot toot- there goes my horn).

I'm crass. I say a lot of rude shit. I'll point out the fact that one of my coworkers, Oneida, has "eeesues" instead of "issues" because of her Ecuadorian accent. (She laughs) I tell Brian to go suck an egg. In fact, that's pretty much my go-to saying when I can't tell someone to fuck off. "Hey, Noelle? Would you mind helping me with these 50 files that I need to review in the next half an hour?" Yeah... Go suck an egg. I bestow people who are truly from the shallow end of the gene-pool with the moniker 'fuckbucket'. I'm very equal opportunity when it comes to my sarcastic remarks. I feel like everyone should get a taste. If you can't hang then that's your problem, not mine.

There are very few places that a girl like me draws the line. I try to keep my f-bombs to a minimum at the office... Even that is a futile effort. I keep my sexual innuendos as veiled as possible, even though my gutter mind is (sadly) always in overdrive. There are some things that you just have to keep on the D.L. Then there are places I just don't. go. ever.

Heather made a phone call today to a colleague. When the person answered the line she immediately said, "Hey! How are you, you old goat fucker?!"

Let me pause for a moment here to address topic number one in Noelle's Sarcasm No-No's. Talking about some random person possibly having relations with a farm animal can be funny in the right hypothetical context. Calling someone an old goat fucker (loudly, in an open area no less) at work is never within the ballpark of the right timing or context.

I have no idea who the person on the other end of the 'old goat fucker' line was, but apparently they weren't offended enough to tell Heather to suck an egg until she choked to death... Pity. I tried to tune out the conversation, however it proved impossible. Whatever was work-related slipped under my radar because basically, that shit is boring. Next thing I know, Heather is telling old-goat-fucker something about someone else having sour semen. "He's too old. His semen is sour and smelly."

Stop the record. There was more to that, but I snapped off my hearing abilities at that point because my gag reflex started to work overtime. Questions started to arise in my mind about who she was talking about... Was she talking about old-goat-fucker? Does she know first hand that someone has sour and smelly man juice? Seriously? I need friggin brain bleach to erase that shit from my head permanently. Noelle's Sarcasm No-No numero dos: There is NO good venue for semen talk. Unless you're talking to your fertility doctor about sperm count OR your significant other about where to leave his deposit, just SHUT UP. No one wants to hear it. Ever.

As I sat at my desk, shaking my head furiously, (hoping that the semen thoughts would actually shake loose and fall out of my ear and into the waiting trash can) I decided the only way to ensure no more ear worms from Heather's gaping maw was to put on my iPod and turn it up to ear-bleed volume. A couple minutes later, I hear her (over Cage the Elephant telling me there ain't no rest for the wicked) start to say to old-goat-fucker that she tried to turn someone from gay back to straight. I started to really wonder who this goat fucking dude was. It was obviously a colleague, because she did call for a work-related purpose... But ended up shooting the shit for like 15 minutes about all this gross and totally inappropriate rubbish. The more I pondered the identity of old-goat-fucker, the worse I felt. It meant there was another sick asshole out there somewhere just like Heather.

Noelle's Sarcasm No-No number three: Trying to turn someone from gay to straight is just pathetic. Admitting to it is idiotic. Bragging (joking or making smart remarks) about it makes me think you might have mental retardation issues. There isn't anything funny about this. You're an HR train wreck waiting to happen.

The whole point of being sarcastic and talking smack is that you know how to edit yourself. You know where the line is and you push it... Yourunfullspeedrightuptoit-

And STOP.

That's why Oneida and Maya call me Miss Caliente (and they don't mean the nudie resort in Land O' Lakes).
That's also why my nom de plume is Noelle Sebastian.