Today is going to be – in the words of the illustrious Bill and Ted – most heinous dudes. I’ve been wrestling with this help file for 5 days and now the boss wants it signed, sealed and delivered today. To top it off, I’ll be converting what I have into a new program I’ve never used before. Yowza!

That being said, I’m currently sitting in my undies, wringing my hands, waiting for the office to open so I can get in early. What a nerd!

And to continue my discussion of wild and wacky coworkers, I would like to present: SpongeBob.

SpongeBob is a nice guy. He’s kind of got a squishy face, flyaway hair and small snaggly teeth. He’s a big man, a solid man. He just has this sort of pulpy nose and jowly smile. He is the PM for our next generation of the flagship product, and well, I think he might have a heart attack before everything’s said and done.

But there again, I might too…

Anywho, one day, confused by my edits, he started blathering incoherently. Out of nowhere he turned red like a tomato and started rubbing his hands over his eyes like he was gonna cry buckets, like he was gonna lose it.

I think he’s a little unstable right now. Just yesterday I walked into his office only to hear him exclaim “This town needs an enema!”

I’m not sure what that means. Maybe, like SpongeBob, I just have to get a little crazy, turn a little loco, become insane in the membrane. Maybe I just need to snap a little bit. Once I have achieved the zen brought forth by intolerable stress, perhaps then the mystery of geographic colon cleansing will become apparent.

I’ll tell you tomorrow if that’s true.

In the meantime, I think I’ll get ready for work. Before starting on help files from hell I must bite off all my fingernails and roll up into the fetal position while sobbing hysterically.

You know that first day of school? How it always felt a bit disjointed and disorienting? I kind of always felt like, on the first day I was a little bit of an outsider, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

Well, starting a new job is bit like that first day of school. You’re coming into an organization where everyone has a title, a space and a role, whether gossip queen, annoying dude, know-it-all, mr. cool guy or ms. sweetheart.

I’ve been at my new company for about 12 days now, and finally, after long last, its happened. And just like that – I feel like I fit.

There are some hilarious people at the new job – too many to mention in one post, so will be writing about them as a series.

Today’s co-worker, we will call him Pepe’. Pepe’ has a small frenchie mustache (hence the name), but that’s understandable, because Pepe’ is an artiste.

Head of the Creative dept, he spends his work day organizing marketing materials and product deliverables. By night he hosts poker – so hot right now – and paints. He doesn’t just paint landscapes, watercolors, or pink flamingos, but is a full – on conceptual painter.

He attends art shows. His favorite Smithsonian exhibit is the Mineral exhibit – not because the most fantastic diamond in the world, the Hope Diamond, is showcased there, but because the minerals have so much “color and texture.”

Although I like to imagine that I am, when I’m with Pepe’, I realize even though I’m a writer, even though I wear plastic glasses, even though I’m a bit eccentric, I am not very artsy at all.

It’s okay if people think I’m artsy though. I’ve always considered that to be a compliment. But what these people don’t know is – what these people who think i’m very creative and artsy is:

- I love Dawsons Creek and the OC
- I have no interest in reading Niesche and know very little about Freud
- I may have a latte every once in a while, but do not frequent the coffe house scene
- I would never consider reading my poetry on open mic night
- I do not, in general, enjoy emo music (but have made an exception where Bright Eyes is concerned)
- I am not particularly tortured
- I have never shaved my head
- I do not play an instrument, paint still lifes, or take black and white photos
- I do not have a pixie hair cut died black
- I do have a black and white cat who I kiss and cuddle and call “Baby.” She often swipes my ankles and wakes me early in the morning.

On that note – this artsy fartsy gurl has to get ready for work. I’ve got breakfast, yoga and flat ironing of hair to attend to!

Oh vei! How bad am I for putting off blogging? I’ve got so many fantastic stories that never made it to this haus. I’ve got stories about slacking, stories about firing, stories about vicious cats, stories about docile cats. I’ve got stories that are so funny I cry just thinking about them, and stories so cute it’d make your heart swell.

I must, as a matter of New Years resolve, begin blogging more frequently. While today’s post may be lame, at least I’m posting. I find that typing the post is the hardest part. All day long I think of hilarious things to write, but then I never get around to doing it. That changes today!

In the news, I have a new job. I work for an anti spyware company that’s *joy of joys* located only 10 minutes from my house. And get this – I am currently employed as a copywriter. Yes kids, I am now writing professionally for a living. The best part of this new job is – no snoopy micromanaging know-nothing bosses peering over my shoulder every two seconds. Everyone is sort of autonomous and cool with their iPods and geek speak. I likee.

Yes, leaving my previous company was not hard. I never wrote about all the craziness there, for fear that someone would see my blog and fire me. But I’m proud to say, as of recently the craziness at the crappiest job ever has been chronicled in a blog called The Producers. Hurrah for that!

Well I start work in an hour at 10 (another fantastic perk of current job), so I must go shower (lest i offend my coworkers).

With that I bid you adieu!

Beleive me, there’s nothing more satisfying than driving away from your office on a Friday afternoon knowing you have two days of unabashed freedom ahead of you… Freedom to dress as you like, forgoing the starch and khaki uniform of the work week… Freedom to see the sun as you emerge from your bleak, windowless cubicle in to a full blown Florida Afternoon, sunshine bursting from every nook and cranny… Freedom to sleep late, eat more, sigh less, read a Rollingstone, listen to your favorite cd, dabble your painted toes in the pool, dabble your painted toes in the ocean, dabble your painted toes in a bathtub filled with bubbles.

On Fridays I cry freedom.

As I am loathe to admit, since starting my new job I have blogged less and slaved more. I always said that this change in my life, the change from happy-go-lucky student to white collar workin’ woman wouldn’t affect the amount or quality of bloggage. I thought that instead of writing about dorms, tests and the brainwaves in the cafeteria’s Jello, I would reflect on life from a more “real life” perspective.

Well, real life is exhausting!

I have officially become an old woman. I awake at the ungodly hour of 6:30 each a.m. to drink tea, get clean and iron my clothes. Let me tell you people, after having ironed maybe once a year for the past five years, this whole day-to-day thing is quite depressing. Thus, I am going to only buy clothes made out of heavy, gawdy polyester from now on – then I will *look* the part of my granny status!

Ahem – back to my day…. I leave the house at precisely 7:41 am in order to fight traffic for twenty miles, taking forty five freakin’ minutes of my life’s energy. My solace is that I get to spend quality time with the one I love, Ruby the Redneck (as my lovely car originated from West Virginia). I listen to the same cd every morning and afternoon – NothingLess’s thirty minute gem, appropriately titled, Beyond Therapy.

Because that’s what I am at 7:41 in the a.m. – beyond therapy.

When I get to work I typically have nothing to do for about the first hour. Because my desk is located smack dab in the middle of the office entry way (read: not even a cubicle!) I am afraid to do time-passing things, such as check my email, file my fingernails, or whistle dixie. That being said, I typically spend the first golden moments of my work day shuffling papers and writing myself random notes like: “today, try not to look bored,” “today you will have chili for lunch,” or “today, don’t forget to take good notes.”

At some point in the morning I will be given a task which makes me feel very important and productive. I will ride that out until lunch time, when I’ll unsnap the lid on my seventies-era tupperware, revealing the contents of last night’s leftovers. Be they lasagne, fish sticks or the aforementioned chili, there’s nothing so sweet as some tasty leftovers at midday.

After lunch I will recieve one or two more tasks, which again, make me feel very important. I will stretch the last task out so that it ends at approximately 5:26 when I can start packing up for the day.

At 5:30 Rube and I leave work, and on the first straight stretch I get to I gun it. The only thing is, since Ruby is a Corolla, the effect of this putting the pedal to the metal, if you will, is hardly spectacular. Ruby’s response is to make a loud “rrrrrrrr” sound and slowly change gears. I grimace as the mom in her soccer van easily and effortlessly glides past my struggling roadster.

Spent, I get home about 6:20 p.m. I have some dinner with Angelface (who does the cooking! Woo hoo), sort through the day’s mail, watch some tv and then fall asleep around 10 p.m.

Granny I say. I’m a total old woman…. but today is Saturday so I’m going to bask in the glory of my weekend freedom. Thus dear readers, granny must bid you adieu.