So tonight was a rather eventful night at work. And not in a good way. It started out with OfficeGirl feeling so sick that she puked in the bathroom and went home. I covered for her. She hoped not to get fired.

Then Vincent started being kind of rambunctious in the front office. Not too bad. Just jumping up when he wasn't supposed to, etc. It was quiet for a long time, and then some people came back to adopt a cat they'd been interested in. And all hell broke loose. While I was getting stuff ready for them, I had to walk over and get something from the copy machine. I walked quickly, so as to get things done in a good time frame for these people, and I didn't look where I was going. At the same time, Vincent ran over to follow me, and I got tangled in his leash and dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. It was awful!! I had even reached for the edge of the counter and successfully grabbed it, but also stretched the muscles under my arm because it actually is possible to hit the floor while still holding onto the counter. Both my knees slammed into the floor and I am pretty sure I yelled, "Fuck me!" before curling up into a ball on the floor and trying my damnedest not to cry. Hoo boy! That was a doozey! (As Dave Attel might say...)

Rydia got me an ice pack, which was very cool of her. I finished the adoption paperwork for the kitty. As I was doing so, Vincent crapped all over the floor. He had peed earlier. I paged for someone to come immediately on the intercom and Drew came shortly thereafter. I didn't say anything. I just pointed. She took Vincent away as she said, "Vincent, I think Meghan's had quite enough of you for today!"

Indeed.

Drew cleaned everything up, which makes her my personal hero.

So as I'm telling this family the last they need to know about their soon-to-be-new-cat's medical records, the teenage girl says to me, "Dude! You're left handed? That's tight!" Earlier, she had also noted that Rydia's earrings were "tight."

"Yes, I am," I said. "I like it."

"So tight," she said. I think she was fourteen or something. It was weird. She was every girl I went to high school with. Okay, not every girl. Maybe every girl in my Washington high school. Anyway, she really was the epitomy of high school. It was very weird.

For some insane reason, I also added, "My husband's left handed too."

Instead of saying how tight that was, she said, "You're married??!"

"Yes, I am," I said calmly.

"Dude! How old are you?!"

"Old enough to be married," I said with a smirk.

Her mother laughed. The girl did not. She only looked confused and wasn't sure what to say. She asked if I was older than 20, and I said yes. She said, "You ARE?! Dude, you look hella young!"

"Oh my god," I said as I laughed. "Maybe I need to wear make up more often..." I told her I never get carded, and her response was, "I'd card you."

She was really funny. Oh, excuse me... She was hella funny!

I told Rydia that story and she said, "You do look young." So I told her that I never get carded, and she said, "That's because you look too innocent and pure to be lying. You don't have that 'bad girl look,' like you're trying to get away with anything."

"Oh," was all I could think of to say. Um, thanks? Really, I'm not sure how to take that! I mean, people always see me as sweet and innocent and incapable of swearing or saying stuff like, "Oh please, that's all just stupid bullshit!" I mean, I generally don't break rules and I don't claim to be any type of bad girl. I just feel weirded out when I have this sort of angelic or pristine reputation or something. I don't want my friends who smoke cigarettes or pot to think that I wouldn't want to hang out with them. I'm not sure why it bugs me for people to think of me like that. I guess because I figure anyone who does see me like that really doesn't know that much about me. They don't know the part of me that could or would bitch someone out, if necessary. Or the very liberal ideas I have. Or the times I purposefully pointed out how lame people were being for their homophobic comments or their ignorant thoughts about why we shouldn't be allowed to read books with Buddhist ideas in high school ("We're Christian, what does this have to do with us?")

I guess I just don't like being set aside in one particular kind of category in peoples' minds.

Two things people have said to me that seemed accurate to me:

"You're a freak on the inside."

"You're sweet, but you're sweet with an edge. I think that's cool."

And damnit, I think I look older than 20!

Oh well.

~~Meg