Thursday, May 24, 2007

Technicolor Tink

I believe we all live colorful lives.

It's just that sometimes we're color blind.

Lately the colors of my life haven't been as vivid as they once were. I haven't enjoyed the simple things as much, too bogged down by the complicated ones. I realized this morning, during that tedious hour commute, that I don't like this cynical girl. "Where'd the other one go? Is she hiding?" I decided last week that I'm going to be less grumpy in the mornings. If you knew me, you'd understand what a huge undertaking that is. "But you're ALWAYS a mega bitch in the mornings!" Hoop responded when I told him of my plan. "That's... who you are!" Thanks babe.

I've done pretty well so far. Instead of pitching a fit because I can't find my shoes or the shared comb Hoop likes to hide, I do meditative breathing hyperventilate in the mirror. Baby steps. It's better than throwing things. But don't judge me too harshly. I only throw sturdy things into soft things. Like the phone into the pillow. You see, a second before I reach for something to break, there's a tiny voice that pops into my head. "You're going to regret thiiiiis," it says. Which is annoying when you're really really pissed. So I decided to compromise with it so it shuts the hell up.

Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes, rambling. There's a hole puncher on my desk. It's one of those archaic metal ones, the kind you could club a baby seal to death with. When I first moved into my office, people would stroll in looking for a pencil to steal and catch their eye on it. Not literally folks. Stay with me. "Where'd you dig that out from?" They'd ask. "I stole it from a dead guy." That pretty much ended the conversation. The scary part is... It's true. Although to be fair, I didn't know he was dead when I stole it. I mean, I didn't know I was "stealing" it either.

When I first started working here, "here" being completely irrelevant, my cube was completely bare of office supplies. It didn't take long for me to figure out why. In this company, the moment you leave your position, your office supplies go up for grabs. Sometimes within an hour of you giving your two weeks notice. You never figure out who grabbed what, so it's pointless to pull blame. But you can bet the people with the poker faces know SOMETHING. During the first week of work, I managed to snag a stapler and a pair of scissors.

I was fortunate the head of graphics had called it quits, otherwise I might have gone another week licking and tearing papers. On the second week of work I noticed an empty office. I watched it carefully, waiting for the employee who used it to come back. But he never did. So one day, after five days of waiting, I went in and cleaned house. The prize of the haul was my infamous hole puncher. It wasn't until a few weeks later that I learned the story behind my hole puncher's previous owner. Evidently he'd died. They'd been keeping his office that way in remembrance.

As much as you may want to believe this story is fiction... Because let's face it, it's kind of demented. It's true. I own it. It's part of the colorful (somewhat twisted) life I lead. Maybe it would be easier to tell people I found the hole puncher. But this is the shit I'm talking about. Color. No, not auras. Although I believe I'm a peachish color if you're wondering. I mean the crazy details and stories we forget to notice. Like the warehouse guy I work with who whispers certain words like they're vulgar. I don't care how hot and bothered "humidity" makes you. It's not a dirty word!

So I want you to tell me something colorful. Give me an interesting story/twist/detail for something completely ordinary. Like the girl who works at the gas station who has curls in the front of her hair but not the back because she can't reach it with a curling iron. Or... There's a scar on my leg that my Mom swears is a chicken pock scar. But I distinctly remember a worm crawling out of it when I was seven. It scarred me for life. I can't touch the damn thing without getting the heebie jeebies. You have something to share. I know you do. Shake off the color blindness.

Header Tutorial for Jen:
Most of my blog headers start off as photographs. Like the one for
Twisted (Tink). It started off as a picture I'd taken of a tree. Then I cropped it to the appropriate size and ran it through the filters in Digital Image Pro 7. For that specific header I used "Diffuse Glow" and "Stain Glass", in that order. Then I overlayed a picture of an apple I'd cut out from another picture I'd taken. After that I overlapped my title. You can find some neat fonts on websites like and You can find color schemes here, along with their html codes. It takes time to get it exactly how you want it. The program is limited, the price you pay for being inexpensive. But the finished product is almost always worth the time!

Labels: ,


At 24 May, 2007, Anonymous Lily said...

Thats a challenge. I'll just tell you the colors of the morning.

In the store, the baby wanted to know why butts have smells.

At the dentist, the boy wanted to know why we cant paint our teeth any color we want. "What color would you pick?" asks patient saintly hygienist. "BLACK!" he grins.

Asking the pet guy why cat collars don't have a place for a leash: "Because nobody walks cats!"
"Mom does."

And explaining to McDonald's that we just want apples and the Shrek toy in the happy meal: "Mom says your food is disgusting but we like your toys."

Tink sometimes the grass seems greener, its hard to take pause on the little things. But the little things sustain us and form the crux of our joy.

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger Tory said...

I seriously love your blog. You are so funny.
The only reason I watched 'Dancing with the Stars', was because I was secretly hoping Heather Mill's leg would fly off and put someones eye out! There, I said it!
I was once in the space shuttle bathroom with our ex prime minister, Pierre Trudeau. True story. Never said a word to him.
Colourful enough?
Take care

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger Mignon said...

First, it would make me so sad to know, if I worked in a cubicle, that said cubicle would be my death memorial. You know? It's like making a gravestone out of a toilet brush.

Last weekend I was shopping for a stainless steel bracelet in a new jewelry store in town and a heavy woman with ill-fitting clothes and bad teeth tried to help me. She had the kind of accent only poorly educated Montanas get (git), and I kept trying to get away from her in the shop without being too offensive. Well, I'm at a coffee shop right now, and I just ran into her. Turns out she has a MFA in creative writing and just moved here from Spain where she was teaching poetry. In Spanish. Also? She went to high school with my husband and remembered him as a good-looking, quiet, intelligent young man. Fuck me.

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger Scottsdale Girl said...

Woo. I could tell you about 50 stories that all involve me, at a bar, and the craziest mutherfugger ever who sits down RIGHT NEXT TO ME... IN AN EMPTY BAR. Happens entirely too much.

I have "Cuhrayzee Food" tatooed on my forehead, apparently. Never shows up in pictures but i just know it is there.

At 24 May, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said...

All that culturing after people leave. It happens everywhere, dead, resigned, fired. I think the first thing to go always has metal in it. And any cool pens the person had.


At 24 May, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Crap I typed "culturing" and meant to type "Vulturing". Fat fingers ...


At 24 May, 2007, Blogger captain corky said...

Every night when I go into work I have to show my id to this redneck robot (Air port security dude) who replies, "Have a good one". Every single night without fail. I wish I had your hole puncher so I could club him over the head like a baby seal. That would be very gratifying.

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger Orhan Kahn said...

LOL @ chicken pock scar.

Clever mother.

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger Jay said...

Once when I was working for a manufacturing company I was the 3rd shift team leader. One of the people who worked for me wanted a half-day vacation. I told him he had to stay all night cause there was a meeting in the morning that he needed to attend. He knew the meeting was to fire him for being a total screw up.

He threatened to just walk out right then. I told him if he did his record would show that he quit (without notice), but wouldn't show the final write-up or firing. So he left.

The rest of the night, as word got around that he left, people started wandering in asking what tools he had. I told them the tools belonged to the company and I had locked up his tool box.

The next morning the manager asked for his tool box and I gave it to him. He looked in it and said "Well, he didn't have much, did he?" I said "No, but he didn't do much either". With that the manger left.

My toolbox, on the other hand, was suddenly REALLY heavy. LOL

Another time a second shift guy left his tool box out instead of putting it in his locker. So, I wrapped it up completely with duct tape, put some two-sided tape in his locker and stuck the toolbox to the back of the locker. He was mad until I told him I was just protecting his stuff from people who might steal tools. ;-)

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger Jay said...

"You see, a second before I reach for something to break, there's a tiny voice that pops into my head. "You're going to regret thiiiiis," it says."

What's it like to have that voice in your head? I bet it's nice. I mean later on, when you're not mad anymore. I wouldn't know anything about that voice. He never visits me.

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger spellconjurer said...

I know this lady at my work. Chris. She calls me Monica. I rather like the name Monica. However it's not my name. But I didn't know how to tell her. So when she says HI MONICA! I have learned to wave. I was trying to work up the nerve to tell her my name was Marcia, not Monica. As I started to say "Chris,,,,,my name isn't,,,,," I saw that her name tag said Carla. So, Chris and Monica it is. I feel like such an idiot when we speak for not correcting the situation. Then I end up laughing in the stock room. At least nobody has ever said to me,,,,Monica Monica Monica!!! now if I could just get Matt to stop calling me Marcie. I heard a rumor in school once about Marcie and ring bologna. Ew.

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger Chelle said...

Hey, I am that girl that has the perfect curls in the front and nothing in the back. I hate the girls that can french braid their own hair! :)

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger fiwa said...

Amen to the french braiding Chelle!

I got two stories for you Tink, and I'll put one here.

I have a male friend who has two boys, one is 7 and the other is 4. The whole family was in the car one day, waiting for someone to pull out of a parking space at the local movie theatre so they could park. Just as the other car pulled out, a third car came up and whipped into the spot before my friend could. So he waited till the lady got out of her car, and he calmly explained to her that he had been waiting for that space. She said "tough luck" and prepared to walk away. My friend, not yet ready to give up the space, yelled "Hey lady, if you don't move your car THE TICKLE MONSTER IS GONNA GET YOU!!!!" Apparently she turned and hauled ass outta there. I asked my friend why the hell he said that, and he 'splained, "With a car load of kids and my wife, I couldn't let loose with a string of cuss words!" Apparently the tickle monster worked better anyway!

Happy Friday Eve Tink!

At 24 May, 2007, Blogger Chris said...

Um, this would probably go better if it wasn't past my bedtime, right? So this isn't a story per se, just something that flitted across my mind. See, my one-year old niece loves music and "dances" when she hears something she particularly loves. She particularly loves banjo music. Do you think it's wrong to buy the soundtrack to Deliverance for a one-year old?

At 25 May, 2007, Blogger Mary said...

One day our dog ran got out. I called the humane society to see if they had her. We're bad pet owners and Bailey doesn't have tags or microchip. I was told they had recieved 3 or 4 chocolate labs that day, did she have any identifying features? When I said she has 1 nipple the size of a thumb they knew exactly who she was....

Explanation is that our dog is extremely mothering and we've had 2 cats who nurse on her.......

Is that weird enough? I'm sure I've shared the story before, but I'm boring and thats all I could think of.

At 25 May, 2007, Blogger Mary said...

That should just say our dog got out OR our dog ran away. Not our dog run got out ;)


At 25 May, 2007, Blogger Hoop said...

Lately the colors in my life have not been so vivid either. I know you think this job is right up my alley and I will be really good at it. Maybe I will be, I don't know. What I do know is even if I am the best at it, it is not what I want to be when I grow up. I like things about it, but the fact of the matter is I like to be creative at my own pace. I have been under more stress than I have ever been through in my life because of this job. My mind has been cluttered with all kinds of boring garbage that I don't really care about except the fact that I need that garbage to earn a paycheck every friday. My Dad's advice to separate work and home life at whatever cost really hit me hard. I am trying, with a little success lately, to take this advice to heart. You blamed your depression on yourself, but it is not all you. I have to take my half of the responsibility. I do not like being distant from the woman I cheerish. Things have started to get "great" again lately, and they will continue to get even better. I have really enjoyed your company back here on earth baby, I think we're finally home. It is now 12:37 and we gotta be up at 5:30 for work. I just really wanted you to know that I am working on fixing my head too. I wish I had a guiding voice :) I love you!

At 25 May, 2007, Blogger Hoop said...

Well, laugh all you guys want, but it is now 1:13 in the morning and I am still here leaving the most beautiful person, inside and out, to sleep alone because I just figured out how to get my message to post.

At 25 May, 2007, Anonymous TB said...

When Jeff and I got married in the keys, we decided we didn't want to do the traditional walk down the aisle. Since we got married on the beach, we kayacked in to the shore. No one knew we were doing it and it was a total surprise to all our guests. People still talk about it.

At 25 May, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think Tink my dear that my most colorful story that comes to mind is the time I started the dryer and my best friend was in it. Sonny the cat. It killed him and it made wicked gossip. It's been a year so I can sort of joke about it from time to time. It was an accident, I shed my tears. I miss him still.

That story is really hard to believe, but I believe you!

At 25 May, 2007, Blogger mjd said...

Hmmm, I will have to think. Maybe this is because I am color blind or maybe this because I am getting ready to go work on this fine Friday morning. The clock is tick, tick,ticking, and I find myself type, type, typing my answer to this colorful request. Oh my goodness, I was supposed to be at work 30 minutes ago. What should I do now? Call in sick. No it is too late for that. Call in with an excuse and drive to work boldly even though late. Hmmm, what excuse would be suitable and believable?

Ring, ring, ringing "Hello, this Mrs. Mjd. I have had difficulty in leaving my home for work today. My neighbor parked his Harley right in back of my car. When I asked him to move the bike, he called me an unkind name. Strangely, he called the police saying that I was harassing him. The police came quickly. However, it took several minutes for the police to convince Don to move his Harley from my driveway. I am backing out of the driveway now. Please have my students read Chapter 5 and answer the highlighted terms."

At 25 May, 2007, Blogger mamatulip said...

I stabbed myself with a pencil in grade 7 and the nib broke off in my thigh. I still have a green dot on my thigh where the lead is.

At 25 May, 2007, Anonymous oddmix said...

Colorful. Got it. I'll get right to that. Ummmm.....

Must go think.


Slick Middle? Somehow that just sounds dirty.

At 25 May, 2007, Blogger Newt said...

I can't think right now, Hoop has me in tears. He really loves you. Awwwwwwww. I'm glad he knows that you ARE the most beautiful person inside and out. Awww, sniffle, awww, sniffle. I gotta go now.....

At 25 May, 2007, Blogger Jess Riley said...

This is fantastic, because lately I've been feeling as colorless as a five month-old dishrag in a middle school cafeteria.

I have a scar on my right ring finger from trying to open my locker while intoxicated. (It was the last day of school my junior year. I hung with a rough crowd. We shared some kool-aid & booze on the way to school. I'm writing about that rough crowd this summer.)

At 25 May, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Awwwwwwww!!!!!!How sweet!!!!

At 25 May, 2007, Blogger Foo said...

Normally, I'd read your post, enjoy it, and then think to myself, "Well, that's all good for her, in't it? But my life's far too adult and boring."

But you've inspired me to stop dismissing all the strange little thoughts that pop into my head between work and more work. I'll even try to move beyond the obvious, like "How on earth did someone leave a pile the size of a newborn volcano, and not a speck of toilet tissue anywhere on the atoll?" I'm just sayin'... there must've been hobbling involved. That's not pride; that's megalomania.

I'm sure I've had small, ironic things ping me on the forehead recently, only to be subsumed by concerns over home maintenance and job deadlines. I'll try harder to follow your example and remember them long enough to post.


Post a Comment

<< Home