Lately I’ve been thinking I should quit my job. What does it mean when twice a day, on average, I have to leave my office just to let the wave of rage calmly subside? And since there’s really no point in taking the elevator down 19 stories, then walking through the lobby, past the conclave of smokers gathered in front of the building just to take a deep breath, I usually end up just doing it in the bathroom, which is the logical equivalent of taking a vacation in Queens.
But what would I do? Write in my blog four times a day, hoping that Lindsey Lohan dials a wrong number and accidentally sends my cell phone nude pictures so I can be the next one to make it big? Maybe importing and exporting? Doesn’t seem so hard. Or maybe buy some land in Middle America and wait for The Comet in 2010. (I got sucked into a special on The Discovery Channel the other night about The Bible Code. The Comet of 2010 is prophesized to “annihilate the earth,” which will make the predicted earthquakes of 2014 and 2113 all the more phenomenal.)
In the meantime I guess I’ll just do what I’ve done in the past when I’ve become frustrated at work, and go on a hugely inappropriate number of vacations in a short time span, far beyond what my unofficial “allotted” vacation days permit. Perhaps that’s why it was so fun when I had this conversation with my boss this morning:
Me: “Just wanted to let you know I’m going to be out of work on the 24th and 27th of this month. I’m going to be up in Maine.”
Boss: “Nice, what part of Maine?”
Me: "blah, blah, blah”
Boss: “blah, blah,blah”
Me: “Haha, yeah.”
[Two minutes later.]
Boss: “How was your weekend?”
Me: “Good. It was my girlfriend’s birthday. For her present I got her a trip to New Orleans. She loved it.”
Boss: “Wow, great present. When are you going?”
Me: “July 22nd through the 25th. It’s going to be great.” [Wait for it . . . .] “Oh yeah, I’m going to need those days off too.”
Then I went to Dunkin Donuts, bought an iced coffee, sat on the steps of the Federal Building for 15 minutes and watched the tourists piss off the businessmen, hating my job a little less.
Random comments on the birthday weekend:
- Glad to see my tall friend John Friday night before Tony mania hit. (John single-handedly produces the Tony’s.) Even more glad to see one of the most amazing things in my life, a 3’8” girl. I don’t mean a government issued tiny person – I mean a girl, just your run-of-the-mill girl, only she’s a little shorter than your standard counter top.
- The award for the Most Entertaining Thing Done In Years goes to The Girlfriend’s friend Erin who on Saturday night at a bar downtown, stood up from the table at about 3 in the morning, wobbling drunk, and proclaimed, “I’m going home,” and proceeded to walk straight into the entrance to the men’s bathroom before someone at the table stopped her.
- This also wins the award for Most Could Have Really Sucked because of the steep cement stairway leading down to the men’s bathroom.
- Almost falling asleep in a hammock in Bed Bath and Beyond after brunch on Sunday? Awesome.
- Watching the Tony Awards that night only to see that the show your friend helped produce (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?) get shafted? Not so awesome. (Not that that stopped John from celebrating after the show with his boy Edward Albee, I’m sure.)
- And finally, I just love it when The Girlfriend says, “Hey quick question: did you know we’re going to New Orleans?” Even if it’s seven times a day.
Quote of the Day:
Matt: i didn’t know what was happening.
Matt: was she legitimately midget?
Matt: or just short?
Matt: but she was really fucking cute.
Matt: which made it more odd.
- From an IM conversation between Matt and John, about the girl I've come to call Small Wonder.