In case you've not already met him here (the manly pink Post-its are his), I'm going to tell you a little something about Captain Ginger Beard. First and foremost, CGB is my cube buddy. My fellow non-worker. Like fifth graders, we pass notes back and forth through the little window opening between out adjoining boxes of death to make the day go a little faster. This is done all day. Seriously. I have a stack of little rose colored notes (and a nice origami collection) that's probably an inch high. That's a lot of Post-its.
But, my point is it works. Or I should say, it worked. Because today, CGB is being...well, a fucking ginger*. It seems that my little maladjusted friend found his work ethic after getting a verbal ass kicking from his boss yesterday (which I courteously transcribed for him via Gchat because I'm nice like that). WTF, man? What the hell am I supposed to do over here? Work? What kind of girl do you think I am? Sheesh.
Anyway, since I don't want to encourage his inner attention whore, I'm going to spin a completely unrelated yarn for you. Because I have no work ethic today.** And I have no other outlet for my ramblings. Be warned...
Most people have experienced a nosebleed at some point in their life. Now, in normal people land, the causes for nosebleeds are pretty straightforward. The average Joe with a nosebleed either A) lives in a ridiculously dry climate, B) just got a shot straight to the face, or C) has been blowing a few too many lines off a stripper's ass***. But not me. In my world, A and C are right out****. And though, as a soccer player, I've taken plenty of hits to the face as mentioned in B, this has never brought about a nosebleed. So, just what does make me get a nosebleed? Sticks. Allow me to elaborate.
When I was growing up, my neighborhood was still surrounded by mysterious woodlands that had these awesome rock formations in them. Of course, being the spider monkey***** that I am, I loved to climb all over these gigantic boulder mountains and see just how high I could go before death became imminent. One winter when I was about 13, my then best friend T and I decided to take a hike to our rocks and thus went traipsing through the woods. But, it being winter and all, the ground was covered in about two feet of snow. Which made moving in our snow gear pretty interesting. Which really just means there was a lot of groaning and noodle-esque flopping on the ground going on.
So we're almost to the rocks and after a significant rest, T and I have our energy back. I decide to make a run for it the rest of the way. Cue me sloshing frantically through knee deep snow. Insert giant log for me to trip on hidden in snow. Pan to me flailing as I crash face-first to the ground. And get a stick. Straight. Up. My. Nose. I cannot possibly calculate the absurd odds of that stick landing in my nose. And it's not something I care to try to recreate, either. Initially, I was just stunned. Then I began to feel violated. Sticks do not belong in the noses of young girls. They just don't.
While I was sitting on the ground contemplating the meaning of this major life event, T ran over to see why I hadn't gotten back up yet.
T: (still a little ways off. my back was to her) Hey, are you ok?
Me: I got a stick in my nose?! (turning to face her)
T: OH MY GOSH! Are you ok?!
Me: Yea, I'm fine. Just...surprised.
T: You have blood all over your face!
Me: (dabs face with handful of snow) mEH?******
Cool. My first legit nosebleed. From a stick. Something tells me Freud would have something to say about this.
Note to self: coming home covered in blood is a good way to scare the shit out of your mother. Must try more often.
*No offense to the cool gingers out there.
**Some days I do, but today is not one of them. I'm going to go ahead and blame the fact that my alarm didn't go off this morning and I overslept. That really doesn't put you in the mood to work. In fact, when I finally woke up and realized how late I was, I figured a few extra minutes couldn't hurt anything and I put my head back down. I was thisclose to pulling a CGB (i.e. staying home from work for no reason. faker). But unlike the aforementioned old man, I managed to get up. Because I'm a good kid.
***This list has been paired down from the one I received from CGB when I asked him for plausible causes of nosebleeds. His original list (delivered on a pink Post-it, of course) read as follows:
1) Extremely dry air.
2) High-speed collision with a fist.
3) Too much cocaine.
4) Spite.
5) Not enough fingernail trimming before booger extraction.
6) Being challenged to a dual.
7) Lack of moral fiber.
Thanks, Gingy, for your awesome insight. Really.
****Missing out on C is a shame, I know.
*****NOT a Twilight reference.
******I had the overwhelming urge to be all "What's this? What's this?" a la Jack in The Nightmare Before Christmas. But that movie scares me. So I refrained.
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