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My life is spiraling out of control. Drama, drama, drama.

So I get into work this morning after the bestest birthday ever yesterday and I notice my tulips are starting to droop. Well I only get flowers like once a year so I'm thinking I wanna show these bad boys off for as long as possible, so I go on a quest for some water. But I decide instead of regular old tap, my tulips deserve the purified stuff from the water cooler. As I'm pushing the convenient, color-coded release tab, the cool, fresh water flows forth. But my luck who should round the corner at that precise moment but the tattletale receptionist with her hawkish nose and Mr. Rogers side part hairdo. She is irked and drafts this office-wide memorandum to deride me for using the drinking water for "other intents and purposes". In retaliation I casually remind all my fellow employees about how I stomped her -ss sumo suit wrestling at last year's company picnic.

I spend the next hour staring at the tulips to catch the telltale blip of revival in any of their delicate petals. I soon grow bored of this and decide to clean my 10-key and keyboard with office dusters - which, on a side note, are friggin awesome.

I return to the water cooler to fill my 64 daily jug and the receptionist eyes me suspiciously. I'm not sure why since she already saw me get the water for my tulips. What else could I be getting water for? Stupid idiot. Well as I push the release valve for the second time today, the pastel blue plastic pops right off and the water starts spurting furiously all over the print carpet. I hightail it around the corner and alert the receptionist. She gives me the "look". You know the one that screams, "told you so"? I'm thinking if she doesn't pick up the phone and place a call, she's also gonna have another look - "the help me get this pencil out my eye socket look".

Within 20 minutes a plumber arrives. He looks vaguely of John Goodman and smells vaguely of septic system. Overall not a good look for picking up the ladies. But he definitely knows what he's doing cause he places one large sausage-like thumb over the spout to plug the drip and snaps the release valve right back on. I would be aroused if I wasn't doused in cold water.

HR then tries to inform me that I must pay for the repair to which I reply, pay for this you curly headed wh-re, perms went out in the 90s. To which I get a pink slip which I use during my 3 pm kiddie dump. I am a true rebel.

Learn more about this author, Sonia Ordoyne.
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