FIRE!

We had a fire drill at work today. This was without a doubt the worst group of staff I have ever ‘drilled with, and that includes the moronic pimply teens I once worked with at Hoyts. It took over fifteen minutes for everyone on our floor to peel themselves away from their desks and congregate in the foyer near the elevators. It took another twenty minutes for everyone to walk the nineteen flights of stairs down the dingy fire escape (with some wanker behind me making “whooo” ghost noises the. entire. time.). The prospect of being engulfed in flames was almost preferable.

The entire affair was underwhelming, because what’s a fire drill without action, suspense and excitement? I have only ever known two people who have treated the almighty fire drill with the appropriate reverence and haste. The first is Arnold Schwarzenegger in his role as Det. John Kimble in Kindergarten Cop (“Eet’s a fire, yooo eediot!”).

The second is Mrs Flynn, my year eight science teacher. Momentary derail: I have many fond memories of sitting in the back row of her class with my friend Crystal, and busily covering the lab bench with graffiti. We did this mainly to curry favour with Mrs Flynn with our M.O. being as follows: At the end of the lesson we would point out our newly laid graffiti to Mrs Flynn and exclaim disapprovingly, “Look what someone did to the bench!”

She would always study the graffiti and sigh and say, “Thank you for telling me, girls.” She would then fetch the Ajax from under her desk and Crystal and I would offer to scrub the graffiti off for her. When we were done, Mrs Flynn always praised us for being such considerate girls and fumed about the inky handed culprit remaining at large.

It seems mean now, but at the time I felt totally justified in my actions (the hag had given me an undeserved 0.5 out of 10 on a science project at the beginning of the year, and revenge is a dish best served daily with a permanent marker). Besides, as a woman of science don’t you agree that she should have been able to make some basic inferences about what was going on here? Granted, this is a woman who was both delighted and baffled by Tamagotchis (they were the rage at the time), but… yeesh.

Anyway, so one afternoon Crystal and I are chilling in the back, scribbling away, and the fire alarm sounds. Everyone scrapes their chairs back and makes for the door as per the established fire drill guidelines, but Mrs Flynn has her own protocol. “HIT THE FLOOR!!!” she wails.
Everyone just stops and stands completely still, gaping at her. After a second, a couple of students slowly start to kneel down on the cold linoleum, looking around with uncertainty, waiting for others to follow. Realising what she’s said, Mrs Flynn looks momentarily flustered and a little bit puzzled, but makes an epic recovery. “NO!” she barks, “CLOSE THE WINDOWS!”

It was the best fire drill ever.

Jesus emails

I think a couple of entries ago I wrote about the commuter bus I took to work. If not, here's a short summary: I used to catch the world's friendliest bus between Hendersonville and Nashville. The same group of people caught the bus everyday and everyone knew eachother by name. I hate public transport, but I loved getting that bus.

When I left Hendersonville, I exchanged email addresses with a number of my bus friends. I've been keeping in contact with most of them. One woman, however...

She was absolutely lovely on the bus and we got on famously, but no matter how many personalised emails I shoot her way, eager to know about the latest developments in her life, all she sends me back are JESUS EMAILS

Today I opened my inbox only to be greeted with the subject line, "God wants me to tell you something!!!"

This was certainly a surprise because even though we've had a rocky relationship over the years, the Lord knows that if he wants to talk my door's always open. Naturally I wondered what God needed to tell me so badly but was too shy to say directly. Based on my past experiences with proxy communications, I thought it'd be one of two possible messages:

• Do you want to go to the dance with me? Yes/no (tick one)
  
• You have a piece of spinach or something in your teeth
  

Natch it was nothing quite as interesting. Just a bunch of Jesusy quotes and this baffling image. Who uses a rose as a bookmark? Why is everything lit up like a Vegas strip joint? I am so confused



Now I've seen Joan of Arcadia and Bruce Almighty enough times to know that when God does manifest himself to humans, he takes the form of (a)a cute teenage guy or (b)Morgan Freeman. He doesn't go around telling middle aged women to spam their friend's inboxes with sickly sweet prose and epilepsy inducing animated GIFs in his name. Christ.

I don't think she even reads my emails, so here's what I'm going to say next time:

Now God wants me to tell you something!!! (Clever subject line, no?)

Does the State of Tennessee know that their employees are churning out God bothering emails on the public dime? Don't you have a job to do? Also, write a proper email to your friend. Sending a forward is just lazy.

And I shall enclose this picture*


*Picture is irrelevant, but it makes me LOL.