Industries that Will Fail if Teleportation Is Invented

According to Ashu:

1. Shipping
2. Airlines
3. Trucking (shouldn't this go with shipping? Dumbass)
4. Hotels (why? where else am I going to have my clandestine affairs?)
5. Real Estate Agents (ok still don't get this one).
6. Automobile
7. Aeronautical Engineers (I'm sure we can find some use for them)
8. Travel Agents
9. Space Travel
10. Sci-Fi writers (they'll just think of something new to write about, k)

And my own special contribution:

11. The Otis Elevator Company

Instance #1 of Why I Probably Will Go To Hell

I won't provide many details of my second job other than it involves minuscule cubicles and entire sessions of phone calls. It may or may not be a job as a phone sex operator (this is not the reason I'm going to hell).

For some reason, the office we work out of attracts canines of all kinds. Last week, one of the newer call-girls (haha I think that would qualify as a pun) was sitting in the corner at the cubicle next to me. Let me give you a cursory impression of this girl: Tall, well kempt long hair, flip-flops, expensive bags, and shorts that say "PINK" on the bum. Kind of makes you wonder why she's working there. She was casually chatting about her love life or god knows what to the girl on her other side when I noticed a fluffy bunny in her bag. "Okay," I think, "every girl needs to feel safe." I mean, I carry my Stunzilla*, she carries a stuffed bunny. I get back to my phone calls, faking enthusiasm for the person on the other end of the line, and I notice something from the corner of my eye. Fluffy bunny is moving! What! Fluffy bunny is poking head out of purse! Wait, that is tiny little dog, and that is a dog-carrier. What.The.Fuck. She pushes his head back into the tote, ZIPS it up, and shoves the bag under her desk. My immediate thoughts are "Woman, I am JUDGING YOU! I normally don't judge that quickly, but you! I am judging you!"

Look, this bag was barely the size of the animal. He sat in there for the entire shift. At one point I thought she took him back home during our break, but maybe she just let him piss in the women's room or something. I decide, maybe this ONE time, she couldn't make it home to drop him off before work. But really? Still judging.

Next time she comes to work, I see the tote again. I can't resist and I start flipping out to the preson next to me about said doggy. This is when I learn the puppy is actually a seizure dog she carries around. Do you know what a seizure dog is? I don't. Apparently, she has some medical condition and carries the dog around for safety/health reasons. And she has made it clear she is on her way to medical school; perhaps trying to emphasize that a life changing moment/disorder has changed her path to the one of health. Of course, my immediate response when learning that it was a seizure dog was "Are you sure she's not lying?" I even looked to see if she had medical ID tags on.

I'm probably going to hell.

*A stun gun. Named Stunzilla. Because it is So large.

Metra Etiquette: Yes, People Can Hear Your Entire Phone Convo, Dumbass

I don't care that you have a huuuuuuge crush on that girl in your Econ 101 class and that you absolutely have to have this utterly insipid conversation with her about how she likes to compare everything to cheese and you try to cover up the banality of your conversational skills by using words you think smart people use, like "quite" and "however" because that is not the way you get into a girl's pants, at least not a self-respecting girl with taste. So please don't ruin the brief nap I have between my two jobs with your LOUD ass wannabe-fratboy-but-didn't-quite-have-enough-testosterone voice, because I DON'T CARE.

Otis Holds A Surprise On The Inside!

Today I got coffee for my boss because they sweetened her iced tea when she first bought it. Oh and they put too much ice. In her iced tea. So on my way to buy an unsweetened, black, venti, lightly-iced Iced Tea from Starbucks, I grabbed some carrots and hummus and ran onto Otis the Elevator. There I ran into a nice older Haitian man from an office above as I was chewing these delightful goodies of the earth. He laughed at my silliness (I think that was the image I was projecting) and asked in his lovely accent if there was a party going on in our office. I replied "Oh no, we're just eating all the time." This prompted him to offer me some sage advice in that utterly lovely accent of his, as he looked me up in down in my somewhat cleavage-revealing (on accident, I can't help it!) dress, "Do not eat too much. You will get fat. Ho ho ho ho!"

Thank you Jesus.

On another note, I have a strong tendency to flirt with Starbucks boy baristas.

Utter Brilliance: Zombie Strippers

Courtesy of Jezebel