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.