Moku?s bad day
Mood:  down
Now Playing: not in the mood for this...can't listen to music at work.
Topic: Bus Stories

There are days when I don’t want to wake up in the morning then there are those day when I do wake up and feel pretty darn pleased with myself for rising without a cracking bone or groan only to find out lately I should have stayed the fuck home. Life is full of regrets, I suppose, now on with the post!

In steps fate, waiting with some thing good cooking on the back burner.

God, I don’t even know how to start this rant, I’ve actually re-written this first sentence ten times…fine; I’ll just be boring…

I walked over to the Purlador building last night after work to wait for Ms. Jeanie. I arrived at 5:00 and waited…and waited…waited a bit more….by 5:20, through chattering teeth I said “WTF man!” Decided enough was enough and called the PUs (Parental Units) ‘cause obvious I had been forgotten and they might have some clue as to why. They reported that Ms. Jeanis’s car was not in the driveway...huh? Then why the hell ain’t she here! My fingers were frozen and I was BEYOND pissed off as it was now 5:30 and I had to hike over to the bus stop (a good 10 minutes away) and hop on the smelly bus from hell to take the 2 hour trip home and hopefully arrive in time not to miss dance. Twenty minutes in to my bus ride on the 19 bus of horrible smells I got a little ring-a-ding. I answered and it was none-other than Ms. Where the fuck are you with a very sincere “I’m sorry” speal. Well, when you’re cold, pissed off and hungry “I’m sorry” just doesn’t cut it so I pretty much “hum, ah, uh-un”ed her away.

Skip a head two buses

I arranged with Lori to be picked up near the dance studio—the arrangement was I get off on Steeles, she grabs my dance clothes and I wait. And does anyone (knowing me) think that happened? Anyone? Anyone? Of course that didn’t flipping happen! I instead watched her pass by me—actually laughed at the predicament—and cried from the sear ridiculousness of the whole evil night. After a another five minutes of waiting and watching the Great U-Turn Queen in action I got into the warm car.

Some time passes

At the dance studio I went into the bathroom to change and if I wasn’t tired, hungry and severely pissed off I would have laughed like a mad women as I pulled out the wrong dance pants—there were my Sakura Cosplay pants (short black stretchy pants) which I could have worn if I’d shave in the last 3 weeks. I got over the “holy crap I’m going to kill someone” thing in a matter of moments with a “fuck it” (I didn’t’ actually say that…there were kids running around and all) I’ll just wear my work pants.

Fast Forward to Dance Class…

This actually wasn’t a horrible idea until Madam Russian Nazi made us jump around while she called out Random French gibberish that no one understood.

Russian Nazi: “Chapet! Chapet! “
Heather: *pant, pant* what…*looks at other students* Oh! Jump, right…*pant* why didn’t you just say..*pant* that.
Russian Nazi: no, talk, DANCE!

The Ballet Nazi got a wee-bit annoyed at my lack of skill and yelled at me—I, of course, blamed the pants being too long. She, of course, had a solution…a humiliating solution…two words Rubber Bands. Do I really need to go on?

After that crappy day everything was just chipper when I woke this morning to thundering and the pitter-patter of rain. I just can’t describe my joy.

Moku out.

Petro Canada has taken my desk away :-( So I?m now sharing a desk with the AssKisser.
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: with little pieces of paper
Topic: Work Rants

I could give the old “I’m annoyed at Samsung” rant but I’d like to think I’m more matured than that. I’m in a small confined area…but meh…C’est la Vie…Every non-Samsung employee thinks I’m the bloody secretary...*eye twitch* C’est la vie….I could possibly be experience a slight blissful intoxicating episode perhaps as a result of suppressed urges to kill…but c’est la vie, nes pas! Now, On with the post!

Why I hate this move:

Ever disliked someone and then were forced to spend a painfully large amount of time with them…WELCOME to fates new production of “Let’s make Moku more miscible at work!” I suppose it’s a good opportunities to study the ways of the brown-noser up close. *crocodile hunter impression* Now, today, boys and girls, we’ll be looking at the North Americans Ass Kisser. See the discoloration of the muzzle, that from years of wiping their nose in superior’s asses. *moku ends the lame joke and goes to kill herself for ever thinking a Crocodile Hunter joke was EVER clever or funny*

Now, this isn’t some spontaneous move as I’ve been randomly informing my co-workers that I’ll be repositioning my shit for two fuckin' weeks now. But still *sigh* every god damn one of them passes by me on there way to coffee or that after coffee piss, stops, and says “Oh! You got moved” Well, DUH! I didn’t just take it upon myself to relocate! Even if I did decided to up and play office shuffle would I pick the same place as Mr.AssKisser. Uh NO! I’d take a place in the back away from all the Samsung lovin’ “hey isn’t it nice working here” fuck-faced morons. Oh, the best is the on going joke that I'm in a fish bowl. Now, I have an over-active imagination but I don't get the comparsion. Fish bowl, blue; Cubical, Shit brown. Yeah, anyone else confused too.

I'd like to make this clear, since numberous people seem to be confused. I’m not the BLOODY secretary! NO, I'm not mary-fuckin’ sunshine, here to answer all your questions? No, I have absolutely no qualifications to assist you? and lastly, if I knew who Bill from Marketing was, I still wouldn't direct you 'cause I’m a pissed off relocated ARS analyst sitting next to someone *glare* who I just want to throw little pieces of paper at.

Moku out

The Brampton Smack Down!
Mood:  energetic
Now Playing: *sheepish grin* with that blue rubber band again.
Topic: Bus Stories

Okies, every city, town or hamlet has its “crack downs” Toronto has guns, Montreal has its counterfeit cigarettes, and our own little paradise, Brampton (excuse me, I mean Bramp-fuck-ton), has fraudulent bus transfers. Oh yeah, Brampton transits is getting serious about bus transfers. The buck stops here my non-fair paying friend, Public Transit on the smack down! Watch out expired transfer users Brampton Bus Drivers ain’t gonna take it no more! Oh, did I mention the Bramp-fuck-ton crack down comes equipped with our own version of racial profiling.

Case in point: Last Night: Young black man hops on the bus and whips out his transfer like he’s The Flash raising the suspicion of the over weight bus driver…oh, he’s on to ‘em with a glare that says “you’re not just tired, freezing and just want to sit down quickly, YOU Have an expired bus transfer!” The whole ordeal is resolved when the young man is asked to show his transfer properly. To the fat bus driver’s surprise it’s a valid one OH!! BURN! Take that!! Copper...I mean Public Service Worker…The black kid takes his butt to a seat while the driver gives him the old “I’m on to you” eyes. HELLO, what does he think; this is the black mastermind counterfeit Bus transfer kingpin who’s eluded him for years….smirk on his face and laughing maniacal as he proceeded to his seat. Are you blind Ms. Bus Driver, the Kid was not smirking at you; he was pissed annoyed at you—if this were the wrong side of the track (where ever that might be in Ontario) you’d have a cap in your ass so fast. You’re a luck man, all you got was a *huff* and his “I’m a badass” gangster bow-legged crippled walk *sigh* This kind of shit really puts living in the Suburbs in perspective, eh. :P

Moku Out

P.S. Got Scared at the bus stop today.

Mich: Watch out, eh
Me: what *turns around* AHHH!!! *Magically appearing Ukrainian woman*

Nutty: The Rubber Band I just named.
Now Playing: with my new best friend! Nutty, the rubber Band!
Topic: Work Rants

I’m playing with a rubber band I stole out of Abby’s desk a few days ago. Oh, it’s so distracting…all blue and rubber-ie…can you tell I’m desperately fighting writing this post. WAHH! I just I can’t stare at this mental box anymore, my brain is fried—it’s mush I say!…and I’m here wasting my first break since 8:30 am staring at the multi-pixel-crisp-ness as my eyes go cross-eyed when I should be counting dust bunnies in the air or staring at the right wall of my cubical (which is the usual routine for Moku work-breaks). Well, I’ve babbled on about none-sense for long enough, it’s time for the post…or tea…yeah tea first then post *goes to get tea*

I’m back!

SIDENOTE: I actually took the rubber band with me on my journey to the coffee machine. I was half way back to the safety of my USH Zone before I notice I was even playing with it…heehee, stretchy, straight, stretchy, straight…*blink blink* oH! People are looking at me funny *shrug* stretchy, straight.

Well, I now have about a 20 minute grace period to write this E-mail before the tea digests and nature calls which sounds like a lot of time but I’m still fiddling with this rubber band as I attempt to type…making it a WEE-bit difficult to type more than 2 words a minute…heehee stretchy, straight, stretchy, straight…(INNER HEATHER: You’re doing it again) Oh! Right *puts rubber band in desk*

Now, where the hell was I (INNER HEATHER: You never established a topic, nor a purpose to this post) You know, you’re pretty noises *raise eyebrow* for someone who hasn’t made an appearance on this blog for four months. (INNER HEATHER: well, you seemed to have learned the act of sarcasm, so my skills were no longer required) Ah, and here I thought it was because I just dumb plum forgot the crazy fun of Inner Heather. *grin* Moving on…

Back on topic

The rubber band has found its way back in my hand—I swear I don’t even remember taking it out of the desk. I’m hiding it from the AssKisser though *evil glare in his direction* ‘cause he’ll take it away as soon as I leave my desk to flick at someone and this rubber band is BLUE! Not some generic brown rubber band, it’s too good to just throw away on some cheap trill.


ANOTHER SIDENOTE: OMG!! Haha I just discovered you have bend the rubber band to look like two hanging nut sacks (yeah, I mean that *wink wink* kind of nut sacks) (INNER HEATHER: Honestly, Is there any other kind) No, Not that my dirty mind can think of. Heehee.

Back on…wait I never did establish a topic…oops!

Moku out

My work computer: My own little devil spawn.
Now Playing: with some toxic waste! HURRAY! now I have super powers!
Topic: Work Rants

First off, WELCOME WELCOME Michy-Onee-sama!! *bow* I’m so happy you’ve deicided to join us here on Moku’s Rants. I’m not even bitter it took you 4 months to actually click a link I REPEATIVELY gave you and read my blog. Cupcakes for everyone!! (Yeah, the virtual kind)

The Evil that is my computer

My fucking work computer has just frozen on me for the thirteenth time today insuring my faith in the electronic-computerized age. Do you ever wake up in a cold sweat thinking about the fate of the world under these unreliable contraptions *silence* SO, it’s just me then…moving on.

I’ve come to the conclusion that the information super highway is only for those fast-paced PC models post-1995 *sigh* I really need to point out the stupidity of my predicament here—okies, try to picture this: An 80s DELL tower that’s dirty beyond Garbage dump standards with actual missing pieces and broke buttons connected to a beautiful LCD flat monitor with about a Zillion crystal clear pixels. WOW! Look at the resolution on that hourglass...wait I think we have movement...nope it's frozen, again... *rolls eyes* But seriously, it’s the network's fault -- We're on a shared network--Shared networks are EVIL! All those hidden porn files floating around the system, hm, I’m getting off topic…but that pretty much puts my frustration in prospective.

I would like to point out I was promise a new dell computer last week. Where’s my dell, huh, I don’t see it! *crosses arms* Tsst, Tsst, lying makes baby Jesus cry. *shakes fingers* Shame on you Petro (I.E my boss).

Dude! It's 4:47 I'm getting the fuck outta here!

Moku out

I have a pen with my name on it..ohh! You?re so jealous!
Now Playing: with some serial killers I picked up on my way to work.
Topic: Work Rants
Arrived at work without incident—I swear I’ve been accident-free for too long something big is brewing…I am so fucked. I have that stupid Nickelback song stuck in my head ‘cause Edge over plays the fuck out of it! I know you have to play Canadian content but damn man there are other Canadian bands. Anyways, I just got that bloody song out of my head when the radio on the Asskisser’s phone (all our phones have radio) starts playing…do I even need to finish this :P Time for the post:

Rant One: The Cleaning lady my old nemesis.

I got to my desk this morning and just couldn’t take it anymore. I give up one this fucking cleaning lady…

SIDE NOTE: Who I now will be calling “that lady with a cleaning cart she doesn’t seem to know what to do with” here I’ll help you…think Wax on Wax off with Windex…or is it those 80s style neon pink pants that are distracting you. “oh the colours” I empathize; they distract the hell out of me too.

Anyways, back on topic, I am feed up with my dusty, marked up and overall disgustingly dirty desk; therefore, I ran-sacked that bitch's cart and cleaned it my damned self.

ANOTHER SIDENOTE: Did I ever tell you guys about the peanut? Well, I dropped a peanut on my desk and left it there to see how long it would take for Mrs. No clean to tiny it up…well that peanut I put there over a month ago is now gone thanks to ME! MYSELF AND I!

Back on track...

okies, I’ll give Ms. No clean a break, she does keep our company’s bathroom clean—usually cleaning it while I’m trying to dirty it up --- every damn time I fucking have to go she’s there with that 100 pound cart of products she doesn’t use on my desk mocking me with a mental assault of “I can hear you pissing” AUH! Can’t I piss in peace GO AWAY! Go clean some place else. Here’s a place MY DESK! I really hate this cleaning lady so very much.

Rant number 2: Oatmeal, the Exotic breakfest

Now Oatmeal is a fairly normal morning meal, right, of course it is, so please explain to me why my co-workers take turns asking me everyday “so, what are you eating?” I reply “Oatmeal” then I have to go on and on about it like its some brand new food product I’ve discovered from some obscure country. I suppose the green margarine container is throwing them off…no, I am not eating a tub of imitation butter here, its oatmeal. Oh, and you’d just die of laughter when you see their faces when I mention I made the oatmeal myself, I am so serious It’s depressing me. They’re like WOW! You made that! Yes, yes I did. *grabs an apron to demonstrate* I took some oats from this big bag of oats, a little nutmeg, and added hot water, PRESSTO! Kid you get Oatmeal!

Yet ANother SIdeNOte: Jesus, what do they think I have a wheat field in my backyard and I mill my own oats at 4 O’clock in the morning…morons. *sigh* Why don’t these moron people form a gossip gang--gossip is not a bad thing, it saves me from repeating myself.

Back on Topic...

I had one mo fo today ask like he had been waiting a while for his turn to ask me. Well he didn’t just ask me the aforementioned retardedly obvious question he decided to inform me that he doesn’t eat Oatmeal because he is trying to lose “some pounds” *blink blink* Correct me if I’m wrong but oatmeal is healthy right? I mean it tastes nasty enough to be healthy (without the sugar I mean). I was confused by this, to say the least, even after he finished his “more information about my co-workers I don’t care to know” verbal nonsense with the tidbit that he is on the low-crab diet. Oh, I didn't realize, stupid me, not realizing "low" mean "no" crab (even the good ones) *smacks self* WOW, what a dumby I am. Well that’s nice for you, while you go die of a heat attack I’ll continue to eat my complex carbohydrates. *girlie grin*

Moku out.

Randomness..HURRAY!
Now Playing: with the phone cord.
Topic: Work Rants

Well, I’m contemplating hanging myself with the phone cord so I suppose its time for today’s post…what happened to yesterday’s post..well…it beat me to the phone cord...RIP poor yesterday’s post We’ll all miss you *sniff sniff* okies, moving on to reality..my mind is wandering a bit so expect some randomness and lack of direction.

I’m wearing my Samsung shirt that was giving to me on Wednesday. It was clean and I really lack that in my wardrobe *shrug* you can’t see the logo anyways ‘cause it’s on my boob and that’s covered with my Jean coat—yeah, I’m wearing outfit number two, Mich minus the Sheridan shirt. Man, I need tea…brb *goes to get tea*

Got the tea, avoided three co-workers who I knew would attempt to engage in conversation. It’s actually quite funny how many people here assume I’m so hard working I have no time to chat when really I just don’t want to talk to them. I’m a rather mean person, inside, eh. Haha, and I don’t really care *evil grin*

Oh, I’ve decided to change some things around the blog or delete them altogether…mainly because the growing threat of *looks around nervously* of “certain people” reading this has progressed to the red danger zone. So, if you’re ever so bored that you get impulses to jab the pointy part of your pencil into your own flesh but decide instead to re-read this blog here is fair warning I’ve taken out a few names and “revised” a few things all in the name of saving my own ass!

*blink blink* man, I just zoned out there for a second--well more like two hours..WTF? When did it become 12:09 (not that I'm complaining) Shit man, I don't even remember finishing my tea. Man, I'm hungry...I think I have old peanuts in my desk. Yeap! I do but they've fallin' out of the package...umm...*deep in thought* to eat or not to eat the peanuts that have touched the tainted Samsung propority? Ah hell, I doubt I'll die or anything...you really shouldn't be surprised by my actions I am the one who smells her clothes before wearing them off her floor. Smell, in my opinion, is really the only real indication of dirty :P

I'm happy I could disgust you all so early in the day! I'll let you decide if I'm lieing, half lieing or being completely honest...thou ppl who really know me--not too hard.

Moku out.

Halloween Rants
Now Playing: with the idea of killing a few people.
Topic: My life (outside of work)

I love Halloween, it’s one of my favorite holidays (I love dressing up and free candy—what can I say) but I have a few rants about yesterday none-the-less…but all-in-all I enjoyed the day VERY much!

Rant 1: Where da kids at?

I’m not sure what fundamentalist group killed Halloween but its dead people. When five kids ring the doorbell during the prime hour (7 o clock) of trick-o-treating we can safely say the screw balls have won. But seriously, I can’t believe that the majority of the neighbor children have “found Jesus” and are held up in some church some where. So, where the kids at? I can only think they found some gold mine of sweets on another street—does my street suck that much…it’s free candy you picky bastards!

Rant 2: Left with the defected…oh joy.

Apparently, the nice sweet kids didn’t tell the rude ones about the gold mine ‘cause they’re the ones who showed up at my house. *sarcastic* Hurray! When I was young we said “Trick or Treat” and then got the candy and said “thank you” not really a hard concept, when you think about it, yet, it is beyond these defective youths. Apparently, it’s now just shove bag in my face and walk off—not run with enthusiasm to the next house, nope, walk slowly like you’re bored shitless. Really people, when a toddler dressed up as a ladybug can’t erase the lack of smiles, “trick-o-treat’s, and “thank you”s I’ve lost all hope for Halloween.

Rant 3: Giving candy to the undeserving for fear of flying eggs

I can’t count the number of half assed costumed or no costume at all teens I gave candy to just for the fact that I like my house yoke-free. Really, should this even be an issue! Should I really been giving retard 16 year olds tiny bite-size chocolate bars souly on the basis that I fear their retaliation if I don’t comply? *sigh* I suppose, it’s a apart of the new rules of Halloween.

New Rules of Halloween

Rule One: Kid are no longer require to say “trick or treat”, “thank you”, or anything at all that would be considered festive or display their good manners.
Rule Two: Pressing the doorbell is all that is required to reserve candy…just shove the bad in the home owners face like a beggar.
Rule Three: Smiling is not allow,
Rule Four: MUST drag feet like this is first period on a Monday after the holidays from house to house.
Rule Five: Big Kid abiding by rules 1 & 2 will egg house if they don’t get Candy.

Feel free to add some—use the comment button.

Blog Halloween Edition (More humour and blood!!)
Now Playing: with Two Ghost named bob.
Topic: Work Rants
First off, HAPPY FUCKIN HALOWEEN PEOPLE!! Due to the occasion I am sitting in my USH Zone (I’m not defining that, you should all know by now) in a bleach costume that I made yesterday. Oh! It should be noted that this is the 100th post on this blog *applauses* We need to have cake *virtual cake is passed out* EAT UP!! Mmm…pretend cake….*droll* Anyways, On to the post!

Heather’s adventures in cosplay!

Ah, the joys and sorrow that only cosplay can inflict—usually more of the latter (in my opinion). I actually went completely mad yesterday attempting to make the pants for my Death God costume (think samurai pants).

SIDENOTE: If it ever crosses your mind to make pants instead of purchasing them…SLAP yourself several times and walk your creative ass to the mall! ‘cause it’s NOT WORTH IT! Oh, you’ll be all satisfied with yourself that you made something (possible saving yourself a few bucks) but really you’ll just be a cracked shell of your former self.

Lori came down as I was trying to figure out what piece of the pant connects to another piece (there were four pieces). VERY complicated process when your fabric is dark, huge, all the same color and the pattern you're using was drawn with a yellow highlighter. I was attempting to pin the crack of the ass part when I just lost it! Like really cracked--I snapped. This was after 10 hours of sewing, fucking up, taking the seam out, then re-sewing, and then fucking up again. I just went screw ball crazy! I mean laughing like a mad woman crazy! Lori joined in because she thought I’d lost it (which I had) and it even got Mich to come up from the dank hole and inquire to what was my “issue” I couldn’t inform her that I was having a nervous break down ‘cause I was cook-cook crazy laughing at the moment.

The laugh fit (along with crazy eyes and body twitches) lasted about 20 minutes. You’d think after that I’d be rejuvenated and ready to tackle the pants BUT we live in the real world where all that fancy heart-felt movie magic crap don’t exist so really I was right back where I started with less of my sanity and no really direction or reason to live.

Oh, you want to know about the finished product, well I over-estimated the crack of my ass (which was really one of the main causes of the aforementioned melt-down.) therefore, I can’t run, or briskly walk because the crutch of the pants is about 5 inches from the floor (seriously) but seeing as they’re 20 times to big and black you don’t really notice HURRAY dark fabric that’s hiding my fuck up!

So, you have to picture me right now, the ONLY person in a costume sitting in my cubical trying not to make eye contact 'cause I just can't take another "what are you supposed to be." This whole Idea of dressing up sounding better in my head.

That Religious Guy

When I posted the blog on my Co-workers I forgot this guy--really he was just a no-name on my radar but seeing as he decided to enter my USH zone and converse with me today he’s now included and dubbed “That’s Religious Guy” Now, first off, to save myself the bible thumper backlash I have NOTHING (please make a note of that on your What Would Jesus Do stationary) against religious people. BUT (big but) when you come over and start a conversation with a dressed up co-worker on the evils of Halloween I’m going to think you’re a bit on the coo-coo side. Umm...I’m dressed up, I’m eating Rocket candy, and I’m mum..ahin’ every thing you say so you’ll go away and you think I’m going to agree with you that Halloween is all about devil worship and Satanism, riiiiight. Big clue buddy, can’t see how you missed it HELLO, I’M IN A COSTUME!! *sigh* I was laughing inside, mostly, but then he said something that made me do an “OH no you didn’t!”

Me: ah, umm..*nod*
Religious Guy: and you know it’s all devil worship!
Me: um-uh *roll eyes*
Religious Guy: it’s getting bad with Wicca and all this devil stuff
INNER ME: *blink blink* WHAT! Rewind! oh, you didn't just say that!!

Apparently, I must have missed that verse in the bible where Jesus denounced tolerance of others. Let’s all be Judgmental and ignorant ‘because that’s what Jesus would do! Moron *groan* Like it would kill him to research a bit and find out that Wicca has NOTHING to do with the devil (sorries, sorries, Former Wiccan here, still have that boo-to-fundamental-Christians thing).

I'm a dumb ass

All in all, today has been fun...well other than forgetting my wallet and having to beg Jeanie to come give me some money 'cause I didn't bring a lunch. I take back anything bad I EVER said about you, Jeanie (not that I ever did *goes to edit some pervious posts*) You're the best!! *eats her veggie patty* mmmmmm.....

Heather's latest medical problem!
Now Playing: BITE ME BITE ME BITE ME! then go bite my sister.
Topic: Work Rants
Well, I’m just full of ailments lately, eh. I really don’t want to be dudded a hypochondriac but when little shock pain-spasms distract me from completed my pointless job I think it’s time to address the problem with out fear of reprisal. I have this rash on my back—its itchy as HELL! As well as sore from me scratching the crap out of it. So, now my back is all itchy and I can’t fucking scratch it! AUGH!! I blame some nameless piece of clothing with polestar in it.

!!!!!DIE POLESTAR DIE!!!!!!

I can’t sit comfortably in my chair because of it. If I try, my back touches the fabric of my shirt and it rubs. The rubbing irritates the rash which signals the nerves to tell the brain that “this shit needs a scratchin’” Then my stupid compliant hand impulsively reaches behind and scratches that part of my back. The nerves then realize the mistake and send another signal up to the brain reporting the rash has a defense mechanism: Pain, with a endearing message from the redish bastard of "Up Yours!"

So, I’m sitting here...oh just take a minute to picture it: my back is curves like I have a hump I can’t support and I’m leaning over the keyboard like I’m trying to let one rip...SO, yeah, BINGO heather AGAIN looks like an idiot at work. I think the only reason I’m have not been fired is ‘cause I provide SO much entertainment to these people. Not to quote my rash but “Up Yours” Samsung!!