4th July Hiatus

Hey Peeps. They're making me work at work so no original post here at smallhands for the rest of week. However, my best friend Anna is interning at this new blog, "The Morning After"
It's a blog dedicated to answering sex questions from readers like you. There is one post on it now, but it's still a little under construction. I think you'll enjoy it because those posts are edited by an editor.

From My Lining You Should Fall

So I was sitting around with my aunts and uncles Sunday afternoon. I told them that I had another great song idea. They, eager and supportive, asked me to share it with them. I explained it would be called, "I want your miscarriage." They, less and eager yet still supportive said, "Yeah, you have a twisted sense of humor. Why do you want a miscarriage." I explained that I didn't actually want a baby, and an abortion is painful and pricey, but a miscarriage, like a pregnancy still gives you an execuse to call the boy.

And then they laughed and thanked the heavens that they were only my aunts and uncles and not my actual parents.

Maybe it's not for Robots and Zombies After All

This hedgefund office is freezing. For awhile I thought they kept it at this temperture because of the zombies they employ. It's a little known fact that the undead's flesh will rot if left in the heat. I figured it's cheaper to refrigerate the office for the unpaid zombie workers (the undead aren't really citizens nor are they illegal immigrants, and therefore have no civil liberities. This means you don't have to pay them.) than hiring actual living people to work here.

Now, I realize it's just a nefarious scheme to manipulate me and others into adhering to the dress code.

When I interviewed for this temp job (yes, that's right I had to interview for a job that is only temporary.) the woman who conducted the interview told me they are pretty conservative here. When it comes to dressing we should be wearing blazers. I don't own a blazer. Why? Because I'm not a "career girl," nor am I Diane Keaton circa 1982. But I went to Jersey and borrowed some blazers fromt he eternal career girl, my mother. My mom has a little saying she has told people my whole life, "If I weren't awake during the delivery, I would have sworn they switched babies on me." Which would mean that my father got some other woman pregnant at the same time he got my mother pregnant and they gave birth in the same hospital--because I look just like my dad. My point is the blazers I took from my mother don't fit exactly. I wore them the first week of this job and kind of had a Whoopi Goldberg look happening (except I kept my eyebrows.). I ceased wearing the blazers.

That is until this week when tempertures outside soared into the 90s with 767% humidity. It was hot outside but arctic inside. Meaning I had to wear layers if I was going to be able to nap comfortably in Central Park on my lunch break and not die of hypothermia during the rest of my day. I'm back to the slightly too big blazers.

It's unbelievable what corporate America will stoop to just to have things their way.

And those zombies with the moaning and the trying to eat me, it's un-fucking-bareble.

Norma Rae-chael

I've been temping at this hedgefund since May 7th. My attempts to unionize the other administrative assistants has not gone well. The first problem is that I don't technically work for the hedge fund. Technincally, I work for a temporary employment angency, therefore, I can't join the hedgefund union I'm trying to organize. However, I feel I could still be elected President of the Hedgefund Administrative Assistants Union (aka HAA) if I could just get someone to join. And there lies the second problem. I only know have contact with one other administrative assistant. The other 4 admins are sequestered away on the 19th floor, locked away from my charm, charisma, and my truth about the working man (in this case the working women.) Meanwhile, the other administrative assistant and I are working for pitance on the 17th floor.

My 17th floor cohort has not yet warmed to joining my union. She asked me if there will be any single guys in the union. I answered that she'd be the only person in the union, however, if she organized herself she could then demand that the firm hire single men, who aren't 22 year old analysts. She didn't like that idea. My little proliterate secretary doesn't want her bosses knowing about her personal life. I told her that a union could defend her rights against snooping capitalists. "Hmmm. I don't know. Gosh it's so cold in here," was her response.
"I know," I said, "They're abusing our bodies with these horrible chairs with no back support, and these sub-arctic environmental conditions, we need to picket today!"
"Well, I brought a sweater."
"A sweater? Did they pay for this sweater?"
"No. I brought it from home."
I'm beginning to think she really isn't grasping the whole unionize thing. I really don't know what to do with her. I have about 5 weeks left here (maybe fewer if God accepts the goat sacrifice I offered him last night.) and I need to get this union together. I have to leave my mark. I have to contribute something. Change the world in a small way, at the very least make the administrative assistant's life who works on floor 17 more meaningful.

Tomorrow, I'm going to demand that she take her lunch break. I think I'll have a sit in at her desk so she has to go outside and for an hour. I mean, we work a block from Central Park. How could she choose to sit at her back crushing desk answering phones when there's magnifence a block away?

Paleo-Anthropology is Better than Office Work

1. Anthropologists actually have a good reason for getting up early in the morning. They have to dig up all those bones before the African sun melts their scientist faces. Where as data can be entered at anytime and yet they still require you to be there at 9:00am.

2. Pithhelmets and comfortable, khaki shorts are prohibited in your office.

3. Fossilized people don’t need their phone messages nor do they have expense reports.

4. It is conceivable that an anthropologist could secure a grant to dig a whole to China. Could you imagine getting paid to pursue your childhood dream?

5. Anthropologists frequently work outside.

6. Scorpions, rattlesnakes, and malaria are better than CEO, CFO, COO and human resource personnel.

7. Bones don’t file well into green hanging folders.

8. Anthropologists frequently work with Europeans and Europeans believe in afternoon napping—Score!

Defending Against the Rooster

Last week I played a gig on the Island of long and I heard a dude, seemingly a native of the land, wax on about the ladies who “cock block.” For those of you not familiar with the term “cock block” is basically defined as the following: a person or thing that thwarts the success of a man bedding another person, usually a woman. That someone or something has in effect (from the man’s perspective) blocked the man’s cock from getting into another person or more near to another person. An example of something might be a wedding ring or a Swastika tattoo. Frequently, though, these men don’t blame there lack of success with the ladies on things they usually blame it on the friend of the lady the man is pursuing, and usually these men describe the friend as “fat” This long island guy was no different. His pedantic ramblings on the “fat friend cock block” made at this ignorance. I have heard it too many times and I would like to not hear it any more. So, today I choose to enlighten my backwards baseball cap wearing brothers in attempt to end the spreading of this urban legend of the “fat friend cock block.”

First, ladies don’t traditionally travel in pairs. Women have been known to travel in pairs but no exclusively. Women will travel in groups of 3, 4 or more. And sometimes female humans will travel alone (yes, even to a bar or nightclub.) Second, women don’t seek out friends with the opposite body type as themselves. A 400lb lady isn’t looking for a 90lb friend nor vise versa. Though, those two women might be friends with each other, however as stated before they probably won’t just go out the two of them all the time.

Third, and this deserves its own paragraph because it is the most important part, women like sex. Women also don’t discourage one another from having sex. In fact when women spend a night on the town, they are usually themselves on the prowl for men. Women will encourage their friends to get numbers, and go home with men. However, if you a man is talking to a lady and she doesn’t like him and his opinion that Sylvester Stallone is the greatest American actor alive, “though, Dinero’s good too.” The lady will probably turn to her friend and widen her eyes and roll her eyeballs slightly in an upper left direction. This indicates to the friend or friends that the lady and would like help discarding him. The friend will come over and run interference. A friend will not encourage a lady to go home with a guy she doesn’t like, only men she is on the fence about. Now, is this friend fat? Probably not. But in fairness to the horny gentleman he has been drinking and probably got the lady’s friend confused with his own girthful buddy who struck- out all night with the girls and began talking the gentleman’s ear off.

In conclusion, true female friends don’t sabotage each other in the pursuit of sex, the aid, ebbed, and encourage. So if I some “fat chick” starts talking to you and or being rude and demanding her friend leave with her, after you’ve been talking to the “hot one” that means the hot one doesn’t like you.

The Theory of Ridiculous Design

Why are the symptons of PMS and early pregnancy the same? They are the exact opposite things. The first one requires cotton the second requires surgery. It's like some sort of cruel joke played on humans by mother nature. You'd think she'd have sympathy being a mother and all. I guess the Earth is just one big unwanted child that Nature likes to torture.