Jorel, Queen of the Space Cadets

Now for that delightful time where I excoriate one of my coworkers! That's right, I'm going to take out her core and X it out!! (Hence the importance of working on your core, people.) Whilst I sit in the library with both the front and back doors open because of a stinky cloud of stink that the fire department had to come and check out to understand what the stink is, I should have told them the stink was none other than my coworker. Because she stinks.

I call her Jorel, because she is in outer space most of the time. Wispy, white, wide, she sits around sighing and looking up Civil War horses on genealogy sites. Her favorite topic is the time. How soon before the day ends? Just two hours... just an hour... just twenty-two seconds...! Yaay! The day's over! Now I can go home and eat one of my dogs!! (Huh?)

Jorel has been particularly bad of late. She always has lots of money problems. She got her master's degree in library science five years ago, but no one will hire her because no one is a horse from the Civil War. She really needs the money since she had spent 60 large at DU getting her worthless degree. She expects the library to promote her and give her a hefty raise. This will not happen. Not ever. In fact, the south will rise again first.

A few years ago Jorel had her water shut off because she failed to pay her water bill. Turns out the water department wants money in exchange for water. HUH. But, I ask you fair blog reader, how many months of disregarding notices will get your water shut off? Four? Six? But she was clever! She filled her bathtub with water so she would have water to flush down her greasy turds until Friday's payday. Then, on Friday, she had to leave work to get the water turned back on (and pay the startup fee). Again I ask you, if you know you are in need of water in your domicile, why not... uh... pay your water bill? WHAT IN HEAVEN'S FUCK ARE YOU THINKING GOD FUCK IT. Appomattox, my ass.

Another time she came to work and flung her trash into the dumpster across the alley. Turns out, of course, that she's not paying for trash pickup (the exorbitant monthly fee) and so chucks her trash around the city. But this time she flung her keys into the trash too! Ha ha. No worries, though. Reggie was there to climb into the trash for her and get her keys. For his troubles she gave him a watermelon... jolly rancher.

Now just last week she was late for work. Why? Because her car ran out of gas. She was on Broadway and the car lost its power steering and rolled to a stop--surely to the delight of everyone around her. She called Triple A and she later complained to me that they only gave her TWO gallons of gas, as per their policy. Now she had to make those TWO gallons last until Friday's payday.

Woooowwwweeee.

She doesn't have, say, five or seven bucks to put into her vehicle? HOW CAN THIS BE?!?!? She can't borrow money from her daughter? Her mom? From Reggie?!?!?

I think someone needs some tough love. And I know just the person to give it to her.

That's one brave hog!!