The Boss Whisperer

As usual, our favorite postings are from when Mrs. Tuna has had way too much liquor. She has happily spent the entire afternoon/evening drinking peach sangria with her friend the Bad Bunny. Ignore all bad grammar and typos, it's the booze typing. It's possible it could end in a nip slip or something if we're not careful. Not that Mrs. Tuna's double A's have much to show for it. Likely tomorrow she will go back and make all the necessary modifications so as not to embarrass herself. 

What I should really blog about is this picture of my Future British Son In Law’s first 4^th of July. But that would be wrong. Very Wrong.

Instead, I thought I’d give a bit of an update at the new slave market, Endless Engineering.  Who knew I’d be the voice of reason. One of my major assignments is Business Development. That’s a fancy way of saying beat the bushes for new work. Boss 1 and Boss 2 are polar opposites in business strategy. This is not to be confused with Thing 1 and Thing 2 of Dr. Seuss.  Instead of pulling the Cat in the Hat out of my ass, I am literally feral herding cats.  I speak Boss. I don’t even listen to what they say for the first 20 minutes of the meeting, they are certainly not listening to my amazing words of wisdom. And then getting everyone to compromise, sing Kumbaya and have a freaking group hug.  

Somehow I’ve gone from quiet engineering assignments to the queen of marketing mayhem. We keep trying on assistants to “help” me but they are such a collection of whack a doodles.  The last one came with a stripper name and a ridiculous reason for not being able to make it to the office. Sharing all of her personal secrets, like having to marry her baby daddy when she was 6 months pregnant (she included a verifying instragram as proof) within the first 3 days. I am a horrible coworker, I don’t even want to listen to your kiddie’s T Ball game or results of your pap smear. La la la la la, I can’t hear you, stop talking.  

Boss 2 slinked past her desk over to my veal fattening pen to ask if I knew what was wrong with her, her head was down on her desk. Dude, ummmm….you can’t quiz her, you’re her supervisor, I just took the job? The chicken thought I should talk to her “woman to woman”. The final straw was borrowing the company truck to get home and joyriding it all the way to Tucson.   One of their former employees shared by text, her weaving all over the freeway before getting pulled over the men in blue.  When confronted the next morning, a string of verbal diarrhea excuses.  My dad’s formula buddy was going to fix it, my husband was texting for a divorce, the dog ate my car. Whatever, we’ll miss you Bambi, Not. This week’s fare is a simple one, created by my beloved Sheldon.

Lemon Salmon

1 pound salmon fillet

Salt and pepper to taste

2 cloves garlic minced

1 teaspoon garlic seasoning

3 lemons

In shallow bowl sprinkle salmon with salt, pepper and garlic seasoning.  Cover with garlic and juice from one lemon. Let stand for 1 to 2 hours.  Slice remaining lemons and place layer on medium heat grill, place salmon on top and cover with additional slices. Cook approximately 6 minutes, flip, replacing and askew lemons. Cook until done. The way to tell if salmon is cooked is you can twist a fork in the fish and it flakes. Sheldon did this on her George Foreman girl which would likely keep those lemons in line.  

My "part time" job has been logging full time hours. No time to exercise, thus resulting in slapping back on the 10 pounds I'd lost. What is really need is for Cesar Milan to bring me one of those giant dog cones to separate me from my lover Mr. Vending Machine. I'll just gobble up my kibble and hope the diet restriction works. Sigh. Good week Team Tuna.