2004-12-28 @ 10:28 p.m.
Was Ihr voller Name? ist: wittykitty (läßt Urlaub es an dem)
Geburtstag: Februar 12
Geschlecht: * Ja o.k.!! * OH-... Sie Mittelgeschlecht. Frau
Wo Sie Phasen?: Irgendwo nahe Kanada.
Was Schule Sie? beachten: Keine Schule diese Tage. Gerade eine Nude Abbildung zeichnende Kategorie.
Ha, I always love finding my diary in German on the Internet...kinda makes me feel like I channeled a diary entry through Colonial Klink on "Hogan's Heroes" somehow.
I got his autograph once. Werner Klemperer's. In person!! Holy cow! Colonial Klink in the flesh! Yeah it was the penultimate thrill let me tell you. And I bet you're wondering why I haven't attempted to sell that on E-bay...the autograph, that is. I know that sucker would probably sell for at least, say $1.98. Because...hey! It's Colonial Klink! Are you listening?
Its funny, I saw him in a bus and truck production of "Cabaret" in San Francisco where he played the part of Herr Schultz. Wasn't that the name of his excitable sidekick on Hogan's Heroes? Schultz? I guess the writers of German guys parts can only come up with so many German names. Klink...Schultz....ummm....Schultz. Sorry Werner, guess you're destined for a lifetime of Klink and Schultzie roles.
Can you tell I had a boring day today? I had to go to a training this morning, which will be my sole hours at work this week. Three whole hours. Whee! Fuel up the Lear Jet, we're flying to Monaco!
I had previously missed this training because of my usual Tuesday morning appointment with "A", but since he's on vacation this week, I headed down to the office to hear the low down on the place I work. If I had been able to hook up a caffeine IV, that would have been marvy, because our H R person, though very nice, was very monotone, as she was imparting information. And much of the information she had to impart had nothing to do with me, like benefits...don't have any. Vacation hours....don't have any. Sick Pay....don't have any. 401k plans...don't have any. Vestiture in the company in 8 years? Nope. Can I have a cookie now?
I did find out a secret code word if there is a fracas in reception area though. That was about the most intriguing part of the whole thing. If anyone ever goes bonkers in the waiting room of our office, which is entirely possible because of the kind of office I work in, the receptionist is supposed to get on the loudspeaker and page a certain doctor's name. Since we do have doctors working in our office, this wouldn't be all that unusual but this is a special doctor name. His name is Dr. Rotator Cuff (a pseudonym of course. I don't want you to know our secret code word and ruin the surprise when the SWAT team arrives). So when you hear "Paging Dr. Rotator Cuff to the front reception area", followed by a large nervous gulp, we're all supposed to rush to the front to help.
Freakin' hell....where's the secret back staircase? I wouldn't want to rush out there if somebody was going postal in the lobby. We don't have any metal detectors anywhere and anybody could just walk in off the street with a gun. The H R person said that they have had to call cops a couple of times in recent months because of people throwing furniture around the lobby. Granted furniture throwing is kinda fun. I throw my refrigerator over the piano every so often, but that is just in the privacy of my home. And only during PMS.
But I was sitting there listening in morbid fascination. People throwing furniture in the lobby. Police being called in to presumably subdue them (where were they during the pre-Christmas sales at the Mall? I could have used a little mace-assistance in the parking lot). Don't I work in an interesting place? Aren't you jealous? I bet you only prepare reports and type memos. I get to dodge flying credenzas.
(me nervously putting on my stylishly cute bullet proof jacket for work. Gulp!).
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty