Tits On A Bull

**Before we begin today's post, I should clarify something from yesterday. Those of you that were reading might have gotten the impression that when I didn't finish my dinner as a child, my mom would hit me. In the face. You might have gotten this impression from "I'm pretty sure that I brushed my teeth and finished my dinner because I was afraid of what my Mom would do to me otherwise (not the face!!!)". My mom sent me a message telling me that she most certainly did not hit me. Especially not in the face. Which is true. My mom did not hit me (except for a few spankings when, let's face it, I was out of line). When I said "not the face!" I was in fact referring to her stern face. The face that she later admitted she practiced in the mirror for maximum effect. The face that clearly stated don't-mess-with-me-right-now-or-things-will-get-worse. This face is still in use today against my younger brother and sisters and if I happen to see it, it still manages to instill fear in me. **

So there Mom, I clarified. Hopefully you won't be as offended by today's topic, which comes to us in the form of an expression: Tits on a bull.

As in: Maurice is as useless as tits on a bull.

Although I am not a fan of the word "tits", when used in this expression, I find it satisfying. I do believe that this is one of Anna's favourite phrases. I'm equally certain that she introduced me to it in the first place (yes Mom, she is clearly a bad influence).

So where is all this going? Well, I was going to discuss the people and things that are like tits on a bull- useless to me today.

Obviously we are going to start with Maurice. Apparently I am tough on Maurice. First of all, this is all stuff that I have said to his face. But he thinks I'm joking. I'm not. But I don't want to clarify and make his head explode. Secondly, if I want to mock Maurice, I will. I'm the one that has to sit with him all day. If you would like to take him off my hands, I will stop making fun of him (as much). Oh, whats that? No thank you? That's what I thought. Maurice has worked here for over a year. And he still has to ask how to scan things. He doesn't know how it works. So he asks. Again and again and again. Instead of turning around to ask questions or talk to me, he uses messenger. We literally sit back to back. He won't eat cake. And he brings smelly things in for breakfast. Tits on a bull.

Band-aids. On your feet. I'm fairly confident that I have mentioned before how problematic my feet are . And today was just another incident in the life of my feet. I went on a shoe rampage last week. I got new boots. And then rain boots (my old ones were cracked and broken and no longer really kept my feet dry which was kind of their purpose). And then flats (because the old ones were destroyed, I might as well have been walking around barefoot). So in an effort to save my feet today, before I wear my new boots tonight at a concert, I am wearing my new flats. I have worn them a couple of times already, got a couple of blisters. But I was pre-emptive this morning. I could feel one coming on so I put a band aid on it. Immediate relief. Felt confident. Walking down the street, Starbucks in hand, things were good! The sun was shining, it was a nice fall day, I showered, and I have a concert to look forward to tonight (hence the shower)!

About 20 minutes ago I checked my foot to see if it the band aid was still there.

It wasn't.

In its place? Blood. Lots of it. Dried and crusty, oozy and messy. All over the back of my foot. AND ON MY SHOE.

Guess I'm not returning those.

So. Band aids on feet? Like tits on a bull.

Having 4 monitors. Everyone in this office is working on 2 separate systems. In order to make this easier we all have 2 monitors as well. We toggle between the 2 systems and screens basically all day. Its irritating. But in order to outdo everyone, Veronica insisted on having 4 monitors. Four. Apparently this is so that she can do twice as much work as everyone else (shouldn't it be 4 times as much work?) but as far as I can tell, you don't need monitors to walk up and down the hall distracting everyone else. But I guess I don't understand the finer points of supervisory roles. Veronica + 4 monitors? Yup- tits on a bull.

Ergonomic keyboards. If I don't have one, its not much good to me. Neither are the promises of getting me one if you don't follow through. Telling me that you are taking an ergonomics workshop so that you can learn about ergonomics doesn't really benefit me either. It really only serves to annoy me. Because you are an idiot. And a liar. And if you touch me ever again it might very well be the last thing that you do. So all this talk about ergonomics and the good that it will do me? Tits. On. A. Bull.

So there you have it folks, a very short list, of things that are useless to me today. I probably could have come up with more, but I'm bleeding into my shoe and this keyboard isn't ergonomic.