Thursday, February 2, 2006


Ow, Ow, Ow. I tripped over a box on my office floor and now Ow. It’s not like it snuck in here and camouflage itself while I was at lunch. I put it there. It and its two friends, which I think I also, may have tripped over while I was flaying around tripping over the other one. I don’t know.

They boxes aren’t even in a bad place. I, on purpose, with a mind toward workplace safty, put them right in the middle of the walk way so that I would not trip over them. How was I going to trip over them when they are so out in the middle like that? Hard to miss like they are. But No. I have to trip over one or all every time I go down that way. Stupid.

I bet that workers comp doesn’t pay for injuries sustained at work due to the workers own special brand of stupid. I temped at a insurance company that did workers comp pay outs and I am almost sure that worker stupidness can work against the worker when he/she is making a claim, for instance, if you are using your hand to push wood through a buzz saw instead of say, the tool that is designed to slide wood through a buzz saw and you shockingly manage to cut your hand? This is stupid and they woudn't want to pay your claim.

There were people at that office whose jobs it was to holler at stupid workers when they called in trying to get checks cut for their stupid injuries. I think the insurance agency was down with Darwin, the insurance company didn't to reward stupidness and thus allow the stupid to stay in the workplace/nature and be able to spread the stupid. It's better business to not reward the stupid early and hope it dies after running into a wall head first. There was a lot of stupid person hollering at going on at that office. I think they rarely got calls from workers who had walls fall on them or who were victims of their work places stupid – it was always stupid worker v. himself. It made me think that stupid people hurt themselves at work more often than the non-stupid. I think I was right.

So. Ow. I sprained my whole right side tripping over a box. I must be brilliant.

Changing the subject.

I came home from work yesterday after being a good little respondent to the transit thingy. I wrote on there the address of the restaurant I had lunch at and really thought about whether I should figure out the addresses of the post office and the dollar store I walked to while I was there. I decided since I did not drive to the post office or the dollar store that I could leave them out of the work sheet I was filling out. The people who sent me the worksheet were supposed to call me that night so I could report on my comings and goings – Frankly, who are these people? The NSA? Anyway. They never called, which mildly annoyed me as I had been good all day about checking when I arrived at a given place, what I drove there, why I was there and how long it took me, Frankly, it was kind of a pain in the ass and they didn’t even bother to call me about it.

Whatever. If they do call me I could totally screw with their findings if I wanted to. I could go all creative writing assignment on them. I won’t but I could – if they don’t call me soon, I might get bored or feed my work sheet to the Kitty or let it fall to the ground in stead of mailing back to them, I could have a slip and fall and it would be their fault. Hmm. Volunteer Comp?

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