Career Girl

Fee-Fi-Fo-Felly… Kelly!

4:55pm

I’ve been busy rediscovering the joy that is Kelly. He has stepped up to the plate and is totally showing up for me ever since the Bloke debacle crash-landed. Obviously the Petunia emails have been keeping us laughing. But, as always, there’s more. He also showed me  evidence that perfect Caroline has a bit of a pill problem, which is seriously dreamy (I know I’m going to hell – save it for someone who gives a damn). I guess she’s developed quite the dependence on Ambien, and recently took a Jersey joy snooze-ride in her parent’s Mercedes (of which she has no memory, as she was under the noddy-nod at the time). Anyway – Kelly knows because she’s been getting tons of legal correspondence via email (I guess she crashed into the next door neighbor’s great-room, and then got out of the car and went foraging around for snacks). Yum! I wonder if she’ll have to do community service. Cackle!

Exhibit A

10:10am

Below is an email that Kelly just forwarded me from my team-mate “Petunia” regarding her malfunctioning computer. This is completely unedited. Sometimes I love the world.

To whom it may concern in the IT department,

I guess you think you’re pretty funny. You know, some of us actually have to work for living.
Not everyone can hang out in the basement and play jokes on people all day long.
Please stop crashing my computer!!!

Thank you,
(real name removed to protect the crazy-clogs)
Petunia.

Let’s Go Team!

2:45pm

I briefly met the members of my new team this week. First impression: It seems like there aren't any Naomi-type wackadoos in the bunch. In fact, they all appear to be impeccably put together and boringly-snoringly sane.  When I reported this to Kelly, he laughed knowingly (for a waaaaay too long), then maddeningly declined to explain himself. Saying only, "trust me, there's always a freak in the bunch."

WTF? I’m gonna kill him! Now I’m so curious it’s making it impossible to get any work done.

An Interpretive Dance About Abu Ghraib

9:45am

So you know how I went out the other night with Jasmine and Kelly? Unfortunately, they left the planning part of the evening to me. When it comes to activities, I tend to gravitate toward the most bizarre crappola I can dig up in the back of Time Out. Nine times out of ten, said wacky activity is a complete and total nightmare. But for some reason I seem unable to learn from my mistakes. Perhaps it’s because going to lame events attended by lamesters gives me plenty to mock. And mocking, truth be told, may well be my only bonafide hobby. 

This is really my longwinded way of saying that I took the two lovebirds to an evening filled with THE WEAKEST performance art of all time. What’s that you say? You weren’t aware there was such a thing as STRONG performance art? Good point.

The “art” consisted of the following ingredients:

a. Tragic nudity (repeat after me: it’s not performance art unless you’re naked)*

b. Spoken (ok bellowed) word

c. Hazardous (though wimpy) pyrotechnics (Kelly and Jas dug this part).

d. The senseless melting/mutilation of plastic green army men (pew).

 

*Lets pick apart a universal truth. Shall we? I know this is kinda hacky but seriously... Why is it that the people we’d NEVER EVER want to see naked go to such great lengths to ensure that we do? Ever accidentally (ok you taped it) watch that HBO train wreck, Real Sex? I once saw my Pilates instructor on an episode. For real! Of course I quit taking privates from her, and eventually switched gyms. I couldn’t get the image of her naked, Tantric breathing out of my mind. For those of you unfamiliar, think panting dog.

But naked.

And middle aged.

In a really, really, really well lit room.

Shudder.

 

Jasmine And Kelly 4 Ever

3:50pm

Kelly is still going strong with his high metal priestess, Jasmine. I’ve been giving him shit about it because he gets totally embarrassed and it’s tre-tre adorable to see him blush. He’s obviously super smitten.

Me: So….it’s been awhile now.

Kelly: Yeah.

(Focusing intently on the circle he’s tracing onto the industrial carpet with his sneaker)

Me: What? Like three months? Hey, what is that in Metal years?

Kelly: Funny. 

Me: Shouldn’t you be getting her name tattooed on your neck, like yesterday?

Kelly: Now that you mention it, it is long overdue.

Me: Are you gonna take her out to a laser light show for your third monthiversary?

Kelly: Oh that’s a really good one.

Me: So that’s a no? Oh… you’re gonna go to Medieval Times instead.

Kelly: Medieval Times is not a metal culture thing CG. There’s nothing metal about Medieval Times!

Me: There’s nothing NOT metal about Medieval Times.

Kelly: You’re an idiot. I gotta go.

Me: See you tonight?

Kelly: Yup.

Me: Wicked.

I’m going out with the two of them tonight. Bloke’s on a mini-tour and I’m solo, so I agreed to third wheel it with the headbangers. Party on.

 

This One Goes To Eleven

2:50pm

So, today Kelly and I were laughing our asses off in front of my desk. I was doing this ridiculous head banging thing that makes him pee his pants. I’m not proud, and God knows I’m always willing to sacrifice my dignity for a laugh however meager. But anyway, Kelly and I both have the movie “This Is Spinal Tap,” memorized from beginning to end (judge away) and I was doing my best Nigel in the Stonehenge scene. So basically, if you took a swimming pool full of dorkiness, cooked it down to a nice half-cup dork reduction sauce and then allowed that to dry into an intense cube of dork bullion, you’d have something that resembled the pure level of dorky that I’m talking about here.

Of course it was at that moment that Claire came back from her lunch meeting and saw me flailing around in a manner most unbecoming to a lady. WHY????

This is Murphy’s Law of the office. The second you act truly unprofessional is the second that your actions will be witnessed and cataloged by the person you most long to impress. I still have the idiot shivers as I type this… so excruciating!

Oh ps: she said absolutely nothing about it which is of course, the absolute worst. Right? Right.

 

 

 

Hope To Die

3:20pm

I guess love is in the air. Cause Kelly found himself a lovely lady-friend named Jasmine who has her own death metal band! The combination of joy and surprise that flashed across his face when he told me about it reminded me of how I felt the time I found a Chanel bag at the Goodwill (back home in the good ole’ MW). He's super psyched, and it is tre-tre adorable. I can only imagine the two of them playing World of Warcraft together late into the night. Anyway, he brought me some gut wrenchingly tragic, “boudoir” photos that an exec had taken of herself (with what appeared to be a less than top of the line camera phone) and e-mailed to her partner in tryst. Yes, these are the same morons that had that asinine Blackberry exchange a while back. (Omg! Omg! Omfg! Ring any bells?). The pictures were so icky (though the cruel cruel truth was softened slightly by poor lighting and a shaky hand), mostly because they were just poorly conceived. I mean, would you wear a Cross-Your-Heart support bra while performing a striptease? If that's not a flagrant display of shitty planning skills, I don't know what is. I can only conclude that the division she oversees is a complete and total disaster.

 

The Decline Of Western Civilization Part 3: The CoverBand Years

 

10:45am

So on a happier note, I'll tell you about my awesome metal-night out with Kelly. Everything about it was a blast. Okay, not to take anything away from the evening, but getting ready was the best part. I just kept repeating to myself “there is not enough eyeliner in the world,” and piling it on. My metal-goddess look centered around the aforementioned eyeliner party, and the chewing of a shitload of Bubblicous. Hairspray was also involved. Yes, I realize that metal has come a long way and that many of today's metal fans are actually quite fashion conscious. But what the hell is fun about that? I preferred to channel Trailer Park Princess, circa ‘87. I'm not being the least bit conceited when I tell you that I did a wicked-good job! As evidenced by the parade of zitty, split-endy dudes in Slayer t-shirts, who strolled up to offer Kelly respectful high-fives throughout the evening.

I couldn't believe how many songs I actually knew the words to! I don't own a single Metallica record but when I think about it, one song or another has been playing in the background for a good 50% of my collective nightlife. Anyway, when I got home that night I have to admit I got a little blue. I mean, without question it was the best date I've had all year. Ugh! I've just re-depressed myself by typing this.

KMN (aka kill me now)

5:46pm
Kelly just came up to see me, and as usual, he was bearing gifts. I tell ya, my love for him just grows and grows. Did you know that if you're running Outlook, everything on your Blackberry is copied to the company server? I'll give you a minute to let that little nugget sync (touché) in. I tell you that you haven’t lived till you've read text-sex between two middle-aged, high ranking execs reduced to communicating like a drunken Lohan.
Excerpt as follows:
Female exec: OMFG  I want U Nside me…
Male exec: BOHIC (which Kelly explains means bend over, here it comes)
Female exec: OMG, OMG… OG…..OG…
I think you get the point. I kept picturing the female exec typing this while sitting in a beige chair, in an even beiger ballroom, all the while keeping one eye trained on the key note speaker.

Crazy Face

1:30pm

 So while I can’t really get up in Naomi’s grill, I can bug her by alluding to the fact that I KNOW SOMETHING IS FISHY. This is one of my patented moves. I have always been able to bluff people into confessing things I’ve made them believe I already know (boyfriends I suspect of cheating – or auto mechanics trying to pad the bill). Not that I need Naomi to confess anything, I just want her to squirm, which is admittedly, immature on my part. Too bad, as you may have noticed I don’t shame easily!

The day we all got her “burning the midnight oil” email. I started passing by her office every half hour making small talk. “Love those pink Uggs Naomi!” Stuff like that – no big whoop. Then about the third time, I lingered with my cup of coffee (courtesy of the nice folks over at Flavia).

 Me: So….

Naomi: Yeah.

Me: You know, I had the BEST dinner last night!

Naomi: Oh, where’d you go?

Me: Mexicana Mama. I love that place! There are so many great places to eat downtown don’t you think?

Naomi: Oh absolutely, Spice Mark-

Me: (interrupting) There’s like, nowhere good to eat up here at all. A person could starve.

Naomi: That’s not true! I’ve had some great dinners right around the corner.

Me: Oh really.

At this point I gave her my best knowing smirk. I held it for about ten seconds longer than made sense, because I was so overconfident that she’d crack. It occurs to me now that I looked like a total maniac. There is a facial-expression time limit for the sane (while a crazy person is free to make one last all day) that I definitely exceeded.

Naomi: Huh… Well, this report’s not going to write itself.

Me: Godspeed.

 Ok so I got pretty much nowhere but do not think I am ready to let it go. Petty? Sure. Sad? Maybe. Too much free time? You bet your sweet ass. Is it my fault that I’m totally overqualified for this job?

 4:00

Kelly came down and showed me some dirty emails between two execs that are clearly having an affair. He also told me to forget spying on Naomi’s email. He says it’s cool if he HAPPENS to find something on the server (tip: putting any combination of the words monster or dick in your subject line is unwise) but he can’t go fishing for it. It’s against his IT-metal-head code of ethics.