Jobs I Would Be Better Suited For

1) Dolphin trainer at Sea World

2) Arts & crafts teacher

3) Olympic marathon shopper

4) Puppy petter

5) Stay-at-home mom

6) Professional picnic coordinator

7) Barbara Michaels'

8) Meadow frolicker

9) Indie bookstore cashier

10) Mermaid

Congratulations on the Birth of Your New Psychosis

Before launching into the title subject of this entry, I’d like to take a moment to curse a once beloved source of clothing: Fie, Banana Republic! Fie, I say! The inappropriately expensive pants that I bought from you mid-winter have developed a fatal fault. The zipper refuses to stay zipped meaning yesterday I was forced to constantly check on my fly status making me look like some kind of crotch-obsessed weirdo (which I’m mostly not!) in the presence of others lest I expose my brightly colored underthings. Furthermore, Banana Republic Pants, how dare you impugn my favorite pair of polka dotted underwear as the offender in past events! They aren’t broken at ALL! It was you all along, you useless, selfish bastard(s). Fie. Grumble.

In other news, I have developed a new neurosis in addition to my hypochondria and my continued dialogue with inanimate objects such as tweed pants. I am officially Squeamish Towards Foods Past Their Prime Which Are Maybe Not So Past Their Prime After All. Mind you, I am the woman who found an M&M behind her college roommates’ desk once, ascertained that it had been there for approximately 7 months and then proceeded to eat it. I have extracted a fly from a bowl of soup before to avoid the hassle of returning it to the kitchen.

Regardless, the progression has been slow but steady and now merits official status in my arsenal of psychiatric issues. I started by throwing away any vegetables that had developed a soft spot or wilted at the edges. Then I tore apart dairy cases looking for the products with the absolute latest expiration date. Soon I was unable to eat poultry that had sat in the fridge for more than 2 days. And now, in this darkest of hours, I have tossed a (probably) perfectly good turkey wrap because the cold cuts smelled funny this morning. That’s reasonable, you say? I bought them fresh yesterday, I say.

I intend on labeling the deviant deli item “Exhibit A” this evening and leaving it for Beau’s final judgment this weekend. He is my voice of reason in most things except reasonable driving speeds. And besides, I’ve already lost the receipt, so I can’t demand my money back. It occurs to me that this may be a genetic phenomenon as Bologna refuses to drink milk more than a day after the bottle has been opened but as it currently stands, this hypothesis is strictly conjecture pending further investigation.

Smelvis Has Left The Building

I heard exciting work gossip today from Queen Bee (*New Character Alert* The 50-something Queen Bee is an accountant who’s been working this office for her entire career. She’s a chain smoking Italian that, bless her soul, never ever stops talking). So, drum roll please... Bertha was fired from her job at the Office Across the Hall! We’d discussed seeing her less and less recently, but after a solid week’s absence, Queen Bee told us that her cousin from the office upstairs told HER that Bertha was shown the door.

Previously, we’d all agreed that Bertha must be brilliant at whatever it is that she does for a living. How else would one get called back after sitting though a job interview smelling like a decomposing animal? Isn’t that a turn off for employers? It may sound discriminatory and juvenile but I think “she smells funny” is a perfectly legitimate reason not to hire someone. And we only encountered her in the hallways, bathroom, and, on one particularly horrible experience that I don’t want to talk about, elevator. Imagine the 9-5 life experienced by those people sitting in her neighboring cubicles. That’s just mean, man.

Whatever she did right to earn a place there, I guess she wasn’t doing it anymore. We have little to remember Bertha by other than her “special soap” that she left after her departure still sitting on the bathroom counter where it’s always been, tagged with a post it reading “Bertha, Office Across the Hall.” I suggested to Bell this morning that we leave the soap there in memoriam. Maybe drop a few flowers next to it on occasion. Light a candle. Make a big tacky sign out of poster board with her picture and the solemn farewell that I’m quite sure my entire office is hearing in their hearts. It might look a little something like this:

Sitting in her old stall this morning, I noticed a lingering, phantom odor that seems to have absorbed into the very fabric of the restroom. As I sat there musing and wrinkling my nose, I felt a sadness over our loss. The role of That Person is integral to the infrastructure of a work environment. We must all have someone to hate on, make fun of, and gossip about. That person is just as important as the Office BFF or the Office Boyfriend or the Office Drunk (yours truly). Without Bertha, we’re left with Freak #2 and a slightly newer addition to the Office Across the Hall, Amy Winehouses’ Doppelganger. Bertha leaves a very large muumuu to fill. Let’s all hope they’re up to the task.

Jeez-It

My eyes are crossing from copy editing madness and I'm developing a hunch back from sitting in my swivel chair so long instead of trotting around the office, but I had to report that due to this new bizarre activity of Actually Working and the amount of time I've been spending at my desk, my cubicle is now covered in a fine mist of Cheez-It crumbs. I'm not entirely sure how the two are related but I'm quite sure that they are related. They're everywhere. The crumbs are jamming up my computer mouse and my clothes has been dusted in them for days now.

I may be developing a Cheez-It dependence.

Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun Dog Show

Meet Chica:


Alas, that tiny bundle of rat terrier is not mine - she belongs to Mr. & Mrs. First Floor. But I did get to babysit her for the past week while they were in Europe. It was nice to have a substitute fuzzy critter follow me around the house since Beau is still in Florida. Chica's pictured here in one of her favorite napping locations: in my spot on the couch snuggling with my college hoody. What can I say? We have similar taste. Except I don't really care for lamb jerky treats and she seems to be a big fan.

I learned many other fascinating things about Chica this week. For example, if you fart really loud while she's sleeping, she will jump off the sofa and run, trembling, out of the room. The following will also make her shake: putting on your shoes, closing the bathroom door when you use the toilet, intense eye contact, the wind.

I also learned some important lessons about dogs in general. Here's one that you should know: dogs do not function like people, so if you let them sleep in when you take an early shower, they don't appreciate it. Instead, they get out of bed and piddle on the floor.

Chica's back with her people, who, by the way, thanked me for babysitting with expensive European chocolate. So, besides the occasional puppy incontinence issues, I came out way ahead this week. Rental doggies AND chocolate. Life is good.

Remembering Carpe Disneum

In the month proceeding the infamous Dangerous Family Thanksgiving Trip to Florida, Bologna started a daily emailed countdown for the fam. You see, Bologna is Super Disney Horny. She has stated in the past (in all seriousness) that she would bleach her hair blond for the chance to play Sleeping Beauty on a float for a single parade.

But, alas, a certain party found her countdowns full of clip art and fancy fonts insufficient for the purpose of inspiring excitement. 29 days before the exodus to Orlando, a bloodless coup was staged and after a brief struggle, the rebel front, Carpe Disneum, was victorious. They assumed control of the email countdown. Today, we look back at some of the art of the Carpe Disneum era.

23 Days

This is an early piece of Carpe Disneum from the beginning of their reign, during the troubled time when T was an inactive participant. The picture splicing and sentiment suggest a youthful simplicity that would be lost in later works. The alcohol motif is a recurrent one that we'll see again.

10 Days

As the countdown progressed, an intricacy developed that may make this piece difficult to decipher without enlarging it. It charts the projected travel from Boston down through Orlando with extensive annotations. The version we have here has been censored, probably by some fascist anti-Carpe Disneum group. Still, when compared to the work titled 23 Days shown above, it's clear that by the production of 10 Days, a great deal more time and energy had been committed to the movement.

7 Days

Day 7 is a trifecta of images inspired by a survey solicited by the Mayor of Carpe Disneum requesting members to respond with their favorite Disney character. As expected, Bologna is portrayed as Sleeping Beauty. Beau as a charming Dumbo. T, on the other hand, is shown once again as a transgendered character. This antagonistic theme is again, a result of his obstinate refusal to participate. Please note that the picture splicing has increased threefold since 23 Days. At this point, Carpe Disneum had become a become a full time job and the Queen was clearly unconcerned by the impact this might have had on her actual work.

5 Days

We really must count ourselves lucky to have salvaged 5 Days from the rubbish heap of history. Sent as a special "Weekend Edition" this piece has clearly transitioned programs enough times to cause distortion in the background setting. The Empress of Carpe Disneum graced her peoples with a continuation of the survey presented in 7 Days by depicting herself in the same satirical light. This not only gives us a distinct notion of the Empress' benevolence but also shows the progression from weekday to weekend countdowns, a previously unseen exhibit in the Carpe Disneum movement.

Stay tuned. In Part II of Remembering Carpe Disneum, we'll take a look at the final days of the countdown and view footage of the only known gallery displaying the epoch's collected works.

Weapon of Choice

Establishment: Good Time Emporium

Location: The sketchy side of Somerville, MA

Attractions: Laser tag, skee ball, arcade games, bumper cars, batting cages, pool tables, too many children, etc

Bar tab: $26ish for 2 rounds of 3 people!

Here's a picture of Beau and Mistress playing a video game involving the destruction of men in military uniform and also what appeared to be scarabs. I still don't understand how the two are related. All I know is that I was very frightened that the 17-year-old punk who was accidentally struck by our air hockey puck which ricocheted off the table was going to sneak up behind Beau and shank him. But, on the bright side, if enthusiasm alone could win an arcade game, Beau would have this one in the bag.

And here's the kiddie carousel that I lingered near until all the under aged hooligans had finished. That's me pouting on the left because we couldn't figure out how to make the damn thing work and by the time we did, the camera had died. Suffice it to say, there was a lot of turning motion, a lot of up-and-down motion, and a lot of giggling and clapping my hands motion.

If James Bond Were Dead, He Would Be Rolling In His Grave Right Now

Though I had to come into the office a bit early today, the stars seemed aligned in my favor. I had a good night’s sleep with no nightmares involving the Food Network. The weather is warming up. My iPod shuffle surprised me with back-to-back favorites including I'm Too Sexy and Music Is My Hot, Hot Sex as if to say “Happy Friday, Dangerous K! I will skip over the depressing tracks and give you only sunshine and wonderfulness on your subway ride!” I made SUCH good time on my morning commute that I had time to stop for an iced coffee. All this, plus I’m looking forward to an evening of Beau coming home and doggy-sitting my neighbor’s adorable rat terrier! Life is good!

It got better around 8:30 when my tilted walnut bladder decided it could hold no more iced coffee. I was just finishing up my business and washing my hands when I noticed a plastic bag sitting on the counter. Since Bell was the only other female in the office that early, I assumed she’d left her toothbrush, so I began to investigate. Poking out from the bag was a slip of paper which I gently unfolded. It looked like this:

AGHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHY, GOD, WHY?!?!?! YOU HAVE A SICK, TWISTED SENSE OF HUMOR. Kind of like me, actually. Come to think of it, I’m really into that. We should get together sometime. What’s ya numbah?

I bolted from the ladies’ room to report my findings to Bell and everyone in the surrounding cubicles. Upon returning to my desk, I caught sight of the spiffy new camera phone that I got last week. It’s similar to the model I destroyed in late 2006. [Tangent: I had been unemployed for about a month but wanted to bond with my old roommates so instead of pay for drinks at Copperfield's, I took a flask of whatever was laying around the house. That turned out to be the old high school favorite Aftershock. As the night progressed and I got drunker, I apparently stopped closing the flask completely. It leaked sugary, cinnamon liquor all over my phone and coated the lining of my Burberry bag. The purse survived, though it still smells faintly of yumminess, but the phone was not so lucky. And Verizon was not fooled when I handed them a sugar-crusted LG and claimed water damage]

So, I grabbed my phone and returned to the ladies’ room for a bit of old fashioned espionage involving photographing documents with a very small camera. I tentatively poked my head in. The coast was clear so I sidled up to the counter and gingerly spread the receipt out on the counter, took the shot, replaced the receipt in it’s original location and ran away giggling like mad.

Naturally, since it’s Friday and I had this highly intriguing new intelligence, I immediately put my paperwork aside to start a blog entry. Upon reaching the sentence “It looked like this” I flipped open my phone to figure out how to get the picture onto my computer. You see, I’m not so technology-friendly. Once I deleted the hard drive of the family computer. I have no idea how. Neither did the guys at Circuit City, Dell, or Best Buy. So, I was not all that surprised when I was unable to find the picture on my phone. It wasn’t there. Off the record, that’s probably because I skipped that step where you save it. On the record, I blame Verizon.

Not to be defeated by a hunk of infuriating, call-making metal, I returned to the restroom knowing full well that Bertha had walked in not 5-minutes earlier for her morning dump. I crept back to the bathroom to find an empty, smelly room with no bag or receipt on the counter. I stamped my feet a few times but then retreated, quite certain that the government would never hire me as an international spy despite my many applications.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

1) Making plans with the ladies to grab dinner near Boston Common and see Atonement in the chichi movie theater with the escalators.

2) Meeting Face before Grasshoppah gets out of work to troll through H&M in search of an umbrella while discussing the rain/poofy hair situation.

3) Leaving H&M with a little, retarded umbrella that breaks a block later and also an accidental cardigan (for some people, gum is an impulse purchase – for me, it’s sweaters).

4) Settling into a table at the Beantown Pub with a nice, funny waiter who promptly brings me a rumndietcoke while I peruse the menu and watch commuters get drenched by the downpour.

5) Being happily surprised when Grasshoppah, who is physically incapable of finding her way around the city, makes it to the restaurant without incident.

6) Watching Grasshoppah order a beer and a shot of Jack Daniels with a straight face.

7) Discussing books classified as guilty pleasures with Face only to discover that she secretly loves the works my favorite trashy novelist’s other penname (I’m a fan of Barbara Michael’s daunting ghost/romance thrillers while Face prefers Elizabeth Peters’ Egyptological mysteries. Doesn’t matter. Same person. Very exciting. I squealed. People stared).

8) Watching Grasshoppah order a grilled cheese, a beer and another shot of Jack Daniels with a straight face.

9) Eating a reasonable Greek salad with grilled chicken (and only a few of Face’s nachos) to balance the caloric content of the jumbo popcorn in my near future.

10) Hearing the words “So, I have something I need to tell you guys…” come out of Face’s face followed by a brief explanation that she is [now freshly censored because SOOO many people read my blog some have begun to fear social fall out and political upheaval].

11) Scrapping the movie and immediately ordering another round of drinks.

12) Outpacing the girls’ drinks by a 2 to 1 ratio because tumblers of rumndietcoke are much smaller volume-wise than beers.

13) Demanding the first cab that pulled up due to a state of mild inebriation and actually getting it because I have the most wonderful, patient friends on earth who understand my complete lack of social etiquette (especially when intoxicated) and, dare I say, even find it a bit charming at times.

14) Having a cabbie who actually knows where he’s going in Suburbia.

15) Coming home to veggie tempura and an episode of Family Guy.

16) Having a fitful sleep of nightmares consisting of a dream in which the house catches fire and I have to rescue my downstairs neighbors’ dogs which ends with the ceiling collapsing, thereby trapping me in the house with an armful of assorted terriers. Then having another nightmare in which I’m on a Food Network challenge show where they’ve teamed me up with my evil ex-boyfriend and he keeps yelling at me because I don’t know how to cook goose livers properly. (Note: this is not actually one of my favorite things but for sequential continuity, I’ve included it anyway and for that, I apologize).

17) Waking up with a headful of big, bouncy curls as a result of going to bed with wet hair.

18) Realizing as I walk out the door that I already lost my little, retarded umbrella because I am a little, retarded person.

White People Like Bookcases

A new blog came to my attention recently compliments of Face: http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/. Besides accurately describing my love of expensive sandwiches, dogs, arts degrees, 80s night, and David Sedaris, the comments section is worth at least a half an hour of your time. The hate mail generated by this blog is an astounding affirmation of my distaste for the General Public. I’d estimate that a solid 10% of the comments fall into the hate mail category. They blast the author for a variety of nonsense: pigeon-holing white people, focusing only on the likes of the upper-middle class, being racist or, God forbid, being Republican. Once again, people have missed the point of satire in favor of being offended, which I assure you, is really much less fun than appreciating satire. I’ve been so moved by the number of such entries that I’ve been forced to blog about the comment section of another blog. Blogging about blogs. It’s this kind of reflexive thinking that reduces me to quiet nose picking in the fetal position while humming the Sesame Street theme.

But, my nervous break down will have to wait. Nerd Herd magazine met my demands finally and gave me a raise. So, instead of pursuing my goal of unemployment, I’ve extended my stay until the end of August. After that, I’ll either drift elsewhere or (fingers crossed) get into the grad program that I just applied for. My dreams of domestic goddessry, late morning walks in the park, leisurely cups of coffee not chugged while firing off twenty emails, and excessive free time will have to wait. The Man put a price on my dignity and I accepted. With relish. Most of us already know how much our college education is worth or our accumulated assets but not many of us can refer to an exact number when referring to the price of our self-respect. I can. So can the hookers that hang around Chinatown.

In other news, I’ve been increasingly nervous about the rickety Ikea bookshelf that holds half of my book collection. The laws of physics suggest it should have fallen over by now:
So, Beau and I went to Target on Saturday where we purchased a nice, heavy bookshelf made of solid wood which looks like actual grown up furniture! I spent Sunday evening moving the contents of the old bookcase to the new one and warily eyeing the old one who I assume is planning a violent coup which I will be drastically unprepared for since Beau is back in Florida for the work week and therefore unable to defend me against renegade Ikea furniture.