Category Archives: sabotage

Take Your Mom To Work Day 2014 (a post by Anna)

So yesterday was Take Your Mom To Work Day at my office. It was fantastic!

We got the day started with the copy machine.

Mom, making copies.

Mom, making copies.

Then, I taught her how to field phone calls.

Mom, fielding phone calls.

Mom, answering the phone.

In the afternoon, she unloaded boxes and organized textbooks on our shelves.

Mom, arranging textbooks.

Mom, arranging textbooks.

She was especially great at working the mailing machine.

Mom, mailing letters.

Mom, mailing invoices.

It was a highly successful Take Your Mom To Work Day, if I do say so myself!

To quote Jordie, "I hope you eventually found a chair for your mom."

To quote Jordie, “I hope you eventually found a chair for your mom.”

 

My Dental Saga (a post by Lee)

It seems to be my lot in life that I am surrounded by saboteurs. I never considered, however, that my own self would turn against me.

Sure enough, that is precisely what happened to me.

Over the past year or two, one of my teeth – named Dudley, after “dud tooth” – managed to stain himself. I experienced this treason profoundly for two reasons:

1. Dudley was one of my front teeth (my maxillarly lateral incisor, if you must know).

2. Dudley’s discoloration was not apparent in person; oh, no, much worse than that – he only appeared in photographs. Beautiful memories ruined!

Just look at this devastation (click on photos to enlarge the muddled Duddles):

When my brother Philippe came to visit, Dudley crashed the family reunion!

You’re killin’ me, Dudley.

A few months later, Dudley presented his ugly self during my birthday celebration.

it’s my party, and I’ll have an ugly tooth if I want to.

At Halloween, Dudley reared his ugly head and proved more frightening than any costume I saw that night.

frightening.

After an extended period of shame and self-consciousness, it was time to remove Duddles. My tainted tooth was to be replaced by a crown. This necessitated a two-week period in which I had a temporary tooth attached to a shaved-down nub of real tooth. Not to be easily defeated, Dudley succeeded in, for his final time, ruining my aesthetic. After biting into a piece of broccoli during a family dinner, my faux-tooth popped right out and exposed my little nubbin tooth (I later accidentally swallowed the fake tooth). Never to be outdone, Dudley’s last stand sullied my 2010 Christmas photo.

Dang, Duddlez.

Note that I am holding the nubbin in my hand.

Oh, well. You’ve got to give it to ol’ Dudley. He really tried. In the end, however, my dentist and I proved victorious.

dear Dudley, thank you for (not) being a friend.

The Saboteur Returns, or; How I Learned to Love the Atomic Bomb (a post by Lee)

Being on the job search generally means that I neither a) leave the apartment nor b) change out of my pajamas.

My typical job application outfit and pose.

Being friendless in a new, strange city generally means that Mar and I try to get out as often as possible, in attempt to meet men/friends. This implies, of course, that I need to change out of my “work attire” into something more suitable.

One Monday evening, Mar and I decide to grab a happy hour drink and appetizer at Benjy’s before Jack Bauer saves the day. Mar suggests that we wear formal business attire to make ourselves look more professional. I agree, but insist on a vow not to spill anything on my nice “job interview” skirt. [Editor’s note: This is what high school English teachers refer to as “foreshadowing.”]

As we step outside of our apartment, we realize that it is raining. Really hard. A deluge. Mar bravely offers to drive.

After crawling through 6 o’clock Houston traffic in the rain, we arrive at our destination. We spend 15 minutes in the parking lot, half waiting to see if the downpour will stop and half wondering whether a cheap appetizer is worth the trouble. In the meantime, we opt for a photoshoot.

Still dry at this point.

Eventually, we decided it was time to just make a run for it. I jumped out of the car and sprinted as fast as I could to the nearest door.

Unfortunately, I walked right into the open door of the wrong bar. I casually told the bouncer “Man, it’s really raining out there” as a crowd of about 7 middle-aged people laughed at me from the bar. I turned around swiftly and sped-walked under the awning to the proper door, where Mar is waiting for me.

Soaking wet, we tumble into Benjy’s and start to go up the stairs. Laughing, Mar tells me there’s something stuck to my skirt. I realize a piece of paper is attached to my skirt by a wad of chewed gum. Mar’s vow that nothing would happen to my skirt resonates in my brain. [Editor’s note: This is what high school English teachers refer to as a “flashback.”] Once again, I have been sabotaged by my supposed friend – girl left chewing gum on her passenger side car seat! If that’s not intentional sabotage, I don’t know what is. [Editor’s note: Following the theme of high school English, I would like to make it abundantly clear that Mar is the antagonist in this story. I, obviously, am the tragic hero, my one fatal flaw being that I repeatedly trust She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Trusted.]

We spend 5 minutes in the bathroom, scraping as much gum as possible off of my skirt.

Note the gum stain on the left side of skirt. And disdain in my face on mirror reflection.

To reiterate: Not only did I run, drenched in rainwater, into the wrong bar. Oh, no, I also had a huge piece of paper hanging off of the back of my skirt, for the entire clientele to see as I turned around (thinking I looked so smooth in my faux-work clothes). Mar deceived me. And who leaves chewed gum on their car seat, anyway?!

She acknowledged and remedied her wrongdoing, however, by getting my skirt dry-cleaned for me.

The Saboteur herself.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I’m looking for a new roommate.

Proof of Sabotage, or; How I Learned to Love the Atomic Bomb (a post by Lee)

As noted in my last post, Mar (the master saboteur) took some very serious revenge upon me following my victory in Catan. [Editor’s note: Don’t ever believe her when she says she’s not competitive. I learned this the hard way.]

I would just like to throw something out there: I’m still suffering from her vengeance. As I declared, going fishing with her exposed me to some element or flora or bacteria with which my body heartily (hearty Lee) and wholeheartedly (wholehearted Lee) disagrees. Well, well, well. Turns out I have a lovely (love Lee) condition known as “erythema multiforme.” The doctor told me that I am experiencing an allergic reaction to a virus, or a bacteria, or a food, or a medicine. He clearly (clear Lee) helped me trim down the list of options.

Not only do I not know what to avoid in the future to prevent this from happening again, the doc also told me there’s nothing that can be done; I just have to wait it out. At this point, I’ve practically (practical Lee) scratched all of my skin off. I sit in class and feverishly (feverish Lee) scratch my arms/legs/belly/neck. This has helped me make many friends, as I’m sure you can imagine.

To stir up public sympathy, I’m going to post some pictures of my rash. Feel free to send me gifts to help me feel better.

Remember that time this used to be my left leg?

Remember that time this used to be my left leg?

I forgot to mention: this is going to take 3 to 5 weeks to heal. Sweet deal. Okay, more pictures.

Good thing bathing suit season is over...

Good thing bathing suit season is over...

They're almost like freckles. Except they're large, red, bumpy, and generally unattractive.

They're almost like freckles. Except they're large, red, bumpy, and generally unattractive.

So, as you can see, it’s pretty fun and I look really (real Lee) good. Oh, well. At least I don’t have the swine flu […yet].

Sabotage, or; How I Learned to Love the Atomic Bomb (a post by Lee)

So, August 12th was Anna Marie’s 23rd birthday. This was also the first day we were in my house in Davidson. As my New Roommate, Alex/Alexandra/A McA, was at work making bank, Mar and I decided to celebrate her birthday in true style.

Ergo, we cleaned.

And when I say “we,” I clearly mean “she.” Because this is how it happened.

Mar: So, you’ve cleaned a toilet before.
Lee: Yeah. But, the thing is, I don’t really know if I’m doing it right.
Mar: I’ll show you how, and then you can figure it out from there.

So I made Mar clean my toilet. On her birthday. And I took pictures and generally made a mess.

Missed a spot...

Missed a spot...

After she was done cleaning the toilet, she asked me to throw out some paper towels. I took this opportunity to knock the entire trash can over.

Gracefully, Graceful Lee.

Gracefully, Graceful Lee.

Later that night, I decided to continue my hateful approach towards Mar’s birthday by beating her at (and thus securing my first victory in) our favorite board game, Settlers of Catan. A McA joined in the fun by pointing and laughing at her, as Mar wept.

Victory is MINE!

Victory is MINE!

I later tried to make it up to her by presenting her with a lovely gift, which pleased her and made her forget about my prior unkindness regarding toilet-cleansing and defeat suffered by my hands. I present to you: Willard Christopher Smith, Jr.

Just the two of them.

Just the two of them.

I thought I’d gotten off scot-free, having learned my saboteur ways from Mar, but boy did she have a retaliation planned when we arrived in Tennessee.

Our conversation went something like this:
Mar: What say you we go fishing?
Lee: Oh, gee whiz, Anna Marie, that sounds like a dandy time! Boy, are you a great friend or what!
Mar: Great! I’ll lead you through some woods and dangerous flora, and we’ll get our casting on!

I was clearly unsuspecting of her unkind motives in any way, as evidenced herein:

Happiness is.

Happiness is.

First, she made me wade through some rapids, all the while wielding crickets who sang their death rattles. Then she made me attach worms to a hook.

Unhappiness is.

Unhappiness is.

I woke up the next morning with a severe allergic reaction on my face, which has since manifested itself all over my body. I’m now taking steroid pills and applying steroid creams trice daily, in a desperate attempt to not look like a leper on my first day of school. I guess the lesson I learned is not to mess with the birthday girl.

when we garden, we wear green. (a post by Anna)

Lee and I have a very similar sense of humor. Basically, we think everything is funny. And if it’s not, we make it funny. One characteristic of our senses of humor is that we are willing to make substantial sacrifices to make something funny, if a high joke potential exists.

There have been several occasions in which Lee has publicly sacrificed her energy and given me a bit of a bad rep, all for the purpose of a joke.

People like to recall the time when we found 8 large picnic baskets at Davidson President Tom Ross’s family weekend luncheon. I stacked all 8 of them on Lee’s arms, reaching far above her head and impairing vision. I then guided her to our destination, listening to people’s comments on the contrast of Lee’s eight baskets and my lack thereof all the way home.

[One year later, we found a photo from this event in the yearbook that was captioned, “Lee Mimms and Anna Marie Smith helping clean up after the family luncheon.” If only they knew what really happened…]

withbaskets

Another story that oft arises when talking about sacrificial jokes is the one about Marco. My previous roommate asked me to keep her fish Marco for four months while she studied abroad. Before Lee moved in, I asked her to care for it, to stir up roommate rivalry. Lee spent four months keeping that fish alive while I sat on the other side of the room and took photos. She pretended to be bitter, to make things more fun.

Clearly, it doesn’t take much to keep us amused.

My reputation was redeemed a week ago when I played the role of the minion for one of our jokes. You see, Lee and I live on a friendly street where tourists and locals are constantly walking by our house.

our home

So when it’s gardening time, we are guaranteed to have people walk by and say hello. When the time came to weed our garden, Lee decided the best plan would be for me to put on grubby clothes and go at it.

Mar, doing the dirty work

I suggested that she stand nearby on the sidewalk in a nice sundress. Her only task was to serve me a drink, as I was completely covered in dirt. Pedestrians would stroll by and give us strange looks, as though I was a champion for doing the dirty work.

Lee, in sundress

In the end, it was a success.

Weeding the garden

If nothing else, we thought we were funny.