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My work nerds have ruined me. I can’t get through a day without making sophomoric ‘your mom’ jokes.

I even make the stupid jokes when no one is around to hear/appreciate them. Tonight, for example, I was cooking noodles and turned this into a your mom joke:

It wouldn’t be so horrible if I hadn’t changed the pitch in my voice and followed it up with “That’s what she said.”

Seriously, I’m broken. I wonder if I can get workers compensation for this.

“Sarah, I have good and bad news about your computer issue.”

“What’s the good news?”

“I was easily able to log into the account you weren’t able to access.”

“So I’m stupid?”

“Well, you see, that’s the bad news.”

One of my favorite things about my job is the people I work with. My agency employs a lot of talented and entertaining people.

Oh, and nerds.

I can’t forget my nerds. How could I? Eating lunch with them is the best part of my day–except today. Today’s lunch was horrible.

Today is the day a nerd spit into my eyeball, you read correctly MY FREAKING EYE BALL! The nerds were discussing their love of HGTV when someone made a joke about the odd choice in television channels. I turned to see what was so funny at the exact same moment one of the nerds couldn’t contain his laughter and spit out a mouthful of juice into my face.

I started freaking out and yelled, “There is human spit in my eye!”

One of the non-spitting nerds looked at us accusingly and said, “This is why we can’t all eat together. PEOPLE GET HURT!”

I wasn’t actually hurt, but I’m worried I may catch a strain of super nerd. If I start dreaming of PHP, Linux or Apache I’ll know who to blame and then immediately murder.

First there was this, and now this: I really need to learn to lock my computer when I leave the office. And, apparently, teach the nerds how to spell the word dumb.

There’s something about my co-worker AND FRIEND, Robyn, that brings out my competitive side.

We compete over important things like grape size, whose frozen lunch is healthier, and then there was The Great Pudding-Off of 2009. We made the office nerds judge who had the tastiest sugar-free pudding.

Last night when I was grocery shopping I decided to pick up some gum to take to the office. I got some for both of us because I’m sweet like that. She likes the Extra Berry Pearadise and I love the Extra Sweet Watermelon. There’s been no clear gum winner until now:

Her gum was on clearance while mine was full price. She may get the better deal, but MY GUM IS BETTER BECAUSE IT COSTS MORE. I WIN. I WIN. I WIN.

The one day I leave the office without logging off my computer I come back to find this as my background:

I made the mistake of telling the office nerds how annoyed I was at the tea bag protests. This is my own fault I SHOULD KNOW BETTER! They were quite proud of their prank, and truthfully it is pretty funny.

I am now a part-time employee.

No, the economy didn’t hit the agency I work for (thankfully), but rather I made the decision to cut back my hours so I could focus on finishing my degree.

It’s been incredibly difficult working full-time while taking night classes, and I’m at a point now where the classes I need aren’t offered at night. I feel really good about my decision and haven’t second-guessed myself once. WHICH IS RARE!

Knowing I made the right decision doesn’t stop me from being absolutely terrified. I’m worried about EVERYTHING. Obviously finances are at the top of that list. Coming up with tuition and textbook money was challenging when I had a full-time job, so you can imagine it’s going to take some very creative budgeting to survive.

And the other stuff? HOLY SHIT. Will I be able to pay my rent? Buy groceries? Food for Daisy? And what about the small stuff like a decent bag to can hold all those expensive books. Or the ever-important health and car insurance?

AHHHH!

I’m so fucking freaked out. Someone give me a paper bag quick… I’m hyperventilating. And while you’re at it send food. Or hookers. Or hookers with food to feed me. Yeah, that should work. Everyone knows hookers are the solution for all of life’s challenges.

I work with nerds.  I always have.  I’m sort of a nerd groupie.

Yesterday at lunch my nerds were discussing really boring things like phones and PHP.  In an attempt to change the subject I asked, “So, how about them sports?”

They looked at me in disgust knowing full well I was going to require a conversation about sports.  WHICH I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT, but I felt like having normal boy talk may be fun.

We talked about college bowl games, which The Kid informed us are a really big deal–something about a lot of money, and mountain west recognition. YAWN.

Things quickly took a turn for the worse when we started discussing bowl sponsorship. Nerds can turn anything back into phone talk. I braced myself for a boredom overload by finding entertainment in eating my sugar-free pudding cup in four whole bites.

To recap:

Football—->bowl games—->Tostito Fiesta Bowl—->sponsors—->DAMN PHONES

Last Saturday was my office holiday party.  Since I didn’t have a date lined up RLO was kind enough to accompany me.  He immediately began to regret this decision once he saw his dinner place card:

I thought it was a clever little joke, but in hindsight I can see why people assumed we were married.  For example, while making small talk a co-worker’s husband asked us, “Do you guys have any kids?”  RLO quickly replied, “No, but we’re trying.”

Since the guy didn’t know RLO was kidding I cleared things up by explaining that RLO wasn’t my husband, or boyfriend, but just my very close friend.

Just when I finished explaining RLO muttered, “But that hasn’t stopped her from trying to steal my sperm.”

Um, awkward much?

The guy looked a little confused and I couldn’t really blame him.  I thought about explaining how I constantly beg RLO to be my marriage back-up plan.  Or how I asked RLO for a vial of frozen sperm as a birthday present, you know, just in case I decide I want a baby one of these days.

Instead, I let the conversation drop. It’s sort of uncomfortable discussing future sperm donors over dessert.  That’s more of an entrée conversation.

I made the mistake of asking the guys I work with what their dream vehicle would be if money weren’t an option.

I naively hoped to hear they’d have a hybrid car, or convert a vehicle to natural gas in order to help lower their fuel usage.

I’ve never been so wrong.

“I’d have a Ferrari. No wait a jet. Or better yet I could drive my Ferrari onto my jet plane and use both.”

The other guy thought for a minute and then said, “Yeah, that would be cool, but I’d rather live on a tour bus. How great would that be? I could hire someone to drive me around. I’d have everything I needed. But no jet, I’d have a helicopter on top of the bus in case I needed it.”

I was trying to think of a polite way to tell them what idiots they were, when I heard them talking about jumping the tour buses. I changed the subject instead. It’s impossible to argue conservation with a room full of eight-year-old man boys.