There's not too many things at my job that make me cry real tears. I guess that makes me jaded or something. Sometimes I feel bad because I don't really cry when I hear all these horrible things. And I'm not so much of a happy crier, so sometimes when really good things happen I'm the only dry eye in the house and I feel like a big old jerk.
I almost cried at work today.
We're ordering office supplies for next year and I couldn't find my favorite pens in the giant W.B. Mason catalogue. I was all "Who But WB? Mother effers! Anyone but WB. Anywhere else in the world you can buy these pens but WB."
Turns out they do have my pens, but they didn't have a picture of my pens. Funny how I can't order food off a menu with pictures but I can't order anything out of a catalogue without them. It's like the amount I lose my appetite looking at pictures of food is equal to the amount I lose my mind looking at descriptions in a catalogue. But there they were, right under the Pilot V7s.
I like the Precise V5.
Black, blue, purple, pink, green, and aqua.
I wish they made orange.
I just can't use anything else. Never ever have I ever used another pen for more than five minutes since the eleventh grade. I carry these things around in bulk, usually eight or ten at a time.
Ball points don't have the drag that I need to slow down my handwriting enough so that it is legible, and I can't keep my fingers from sliding down the, um, how do I say this? Shaft. There. I can't keep my fingers from sliding down the shaft. Felt tips have a tendency to ink through to the other side of the paper, making xeroxing difficult. I xerox a lot at work.
Xerox a lot
Xerox a lot
Xerox a lot.
That's fun to say in my head. I'm going to try to say it with my mouth next time I'm somewhere more private.
My job is paper-heavy and light on the e-files. Pencils work well, they have the drag and the textured grip I need but I can't quite do paperwork in #2s. Other rolling balls (with the exception of the Uniball Deluxe Rollerball which I'll use in a pinch) are too thin or too thick, and they aren't compatible with my crippled up rheumatic fingers.
I don't think Goldilocks was a picky bitch.
I don't think the Princess in the Pea was that much of a Princess.
I think they were just normal girls with autoimmune issues.
Last November, sometime right before Thanksgiving, I let Jake play with my pens after he finished his homework and he didn't put them back in my bag. The whole next day I lied to all the providers I worked with and told them I forgot my site visit forms so I wouldn't have to write anything up in substandard ink. Yes it made more work for me on the back end because I had to do all my paperwork at home that night and re-visit the sites so I could collect signatures and review the forms, but it was totally worth it.
Also? A W.B. Mason catalogue is like porn to me. I seriously wanted to take it into the bathroom.