Chickens shovel tat twos?

Gosh, Thanksgiving was sure nice. I love eating. That four day weekend wasn't half bad either. So pleasant, in fact, that I took another day on Monday. I mean, because I was sick. Cough, cough. I really was sick. Of going to work. No, really, I did have a cold this weekend. And I slept very poorly Sunday night. All this adds up, clearly, to desperately needing not to go to work. Obviously.

I just found out, like right this second, that the other person who came here from my temp agency is gone. As of last week, apparently. Oddly enough, he was definitely here last Tuesday, when he completed most of the folding and stuffing and sealing and stamping of our holiday mailing. I noticed his absence on Wednesday, but chalked it up to taking off early for the Thanksgiving weekend. Today, he's gone. It makes me wonder. Nervously. Temp Lady keeps telling me that they love me, and the Nun and the Exec' Direc' keep telling me they're so glad I'm here, but I'm still nervous because I've called in sick twice in the two months I've been here, and I hardly ever do any actual work.

I feel so lame that I have this terrible work ethic, apparently. I was talking, at dinner last night, to some friends of mine, about how I hate working. Rose told me that I need to find a job that I actually like, and then I won't hate working. I said that I don't hate my job, I just hate office work. She asked, pointedly, "Doesn't your job consist entirely of office work? And didn't you just say that you hate office work?" Um, yeah, but...

Then I talked about wanting to bartend, again. Earlier in the day, when I was on my lovely lunchdate with Johnny and Jen, I talked about bartending, and Jen asked if that was something I wanted to do for, like, ever. I said no, and Johnny asked why I would have to do it forever. Jen concluded that it is because I am no spring chicken. But I say that I am!

Speaking of chickens, someone brought a case of Mickey's grenades to dinner last night, and inside the caps of all of them are little hieroglyphs (OK, I know that's not the right word, but dub tee eff do you call those little picture riddles anyway?) that are supposed to be interpreted into hilarious phrases such as "Balls To The Wall" and "Gr8 Beer". Most of them are extremely simple, thoughtfully taking your inebriated state into consideration. I interpreted one thus: "Chickens shovel tat twos? Oh wait, chicks dig tattoos. Ha." There was one, though, that we totally couldn't figure out! There was a cubic box with a black dot in front of the lower right corner, and then an arrow signifying a counter-clockwise turn. I mean, dude, it has to have something to do with twist-off caps, right? Something like seven people were staring at it: "Box dot twist? Dot in front of cube turn? Maybe it's upside down... Twist-off circle box?" And I, at work, do not have the latest version of Flash, so I cannot view the Mickey's website. No light will be shed on this mystery. None!