Dodging a bullet...

I just finished my one on one with that behemoth of a woman wearing an awful Christmas sweater with snowmen decals. Turns out those snowmen are actually retarded penguins.

Naturally, those penguins were a bit distracting. As I sat next to her wondering what terrible genetic disorder might have befallen those poor decals she was covering some very vital information, including two new assignments I am to begin working on right away. Then she told me if I had any questions at all to make sure and ask her because no question is a dumb question.

Really? Like, are those albino penguins?

Anyways, I found myself back at my desk completely dazed and confused, mostly because I really wasn't paying attention during our meeting this morning. Turns out the stuff covered was vital to our first assignment but I have one of those very short attention spans. I constantly feel like a shark caught in a large school of shiny fish, and who can listen to some crazy woman talk for two hours in monotone with all those shiny fish? Not me, and that is why when I got back to my desk I had no idea what to do.

So I consulted a co-worker who has been doing this very same work for the last three days because even though my boss said I could ask her any question I have, I know she would not much appreciate it if I said, "Excuse me, but while you were showing us your lovely and elaborate presentation about RFQ's I was busy imagining just how nice Vin Diesel's ass would feel with my hand cupped around it, so could you please go over everything again?"

Needless to say, it's a good thing my co-worker knew what to do. But of course, I don't have access to the key program I need to perform my tasks. And at that moment I felt like, "Wow! Jesus really does love me!" because now I have a good excuse for not getting anything done.

And no, I'm not talking about Jesus the gardener.

So now I have the whole weekend to find myself some training aids and figure out what I missed during this morning's meeting, I hope someone has some training aids or I am so SOL come Monday. And just in case it comes to this, at my funeral I would like to be buried with my Augusten Burroughs books and a night lite.