View from a grassy knoll

6:42 p.m. Nothing else will suffice- pay the price! 2003-08-13

Reaped Ring ring!
I pick up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi Mo, I need to see you in my office," says BossLady gravely.
"Ooooooh kaaaaaay..." I reply, wondering if my raised eyebrows of surprise are communicated through the phone line.
'In-my-office' talks are not fun. They usually mean you have done something bad. I haven't had one since the whole co-worker screaming incident a couple months back. No idea what I've done now. I thought everything was kosher in libraryland. Maybe it's the blouse with the cut-out shoulders I'm wearing. You know how risque exposed shoulders are these days.
BossLady's waiting in front of her office. I enter, she shuts the door. All hopes that this was a 'help me my computer sucks' office visit is left in the lobby.
"So," she says, clasping her hands, "remember your evaluation a couple months ago when you had to run the bathroom b/c you were sick?"
"Yes," I sigh, and cue the shame spiral. This is what this talk is about. Mo's drinking problem. It was only a matter of time.
"Well, you know what you do off-work is your business. But. A couple of your coworkers have, well, expressed some, concern, about your erm, condition these past couple of Fridays. And you did call in sick I believe the tenth of July?"
"Yeah..." I reply, but stifle a grin. That was Crab's birthday. I was delightfully not hungover that particular day, though I did enjoy sleeping late. I keep my mouth shut & face serious.
"Mo, I don't want to preach here. We both know if you're hungover it's not good for your productivity. And thankfully you weren't on the desk those times..."
Yeah, more like she thankfully didn't notice I was hungover those days I was on the desk.
"Well Bosslady," I say brightly, "I understand your concern. Actually I only go out
Thursday nights, but you'll be happy to know I've found the magic number!"
"M-magic number?" She sounds scared.
"It's four. Four beers & that's it."
"You know it's also how fast you consume it too." she says.
"Oh I know. I always leave by 12:30 so i can get enough sleep for the next day. So now that I've found the magic number it probably won't be a problem anymore. To paraphrase the Beastie Boys, I'll check myself before I wreck myself." Smile.
BossLady gives me a confused look that I think is supposed to be warm and understanding. "Okay. I just don't want you to jeopardize your job. We have programs here to help you if it's a problem."
If she only knew. Internally, I'm shaking my head in disdain. This is crap. This is work people mad that me & L1sa go out & have a good time & a social life one night a week. But i'm not getting mad over this. BossLady is just the messenger. I have a fair suspicion that Crazy Officemate may have something to do with this. Self righteous cat crazy bitch she is. Or any other number of nosy Nellies with which I work. You'd think in this city they'd understand. I feel like someone just hit me on the head with a irony board.
"You mean ironing board."
"Whatever, they both suck."
So that was my big ego-deflater for the day. BossLady's threatening rehab for the one night a week I party. "I know it's hard to make that transition from student to professional," she says, so smug & all knowing about the foolish antics of this mid-twenty year old.
But I have a fix for them though, something that'll keep me perky & bright & skinny & bouncing off the walls nuts and so NOT hungover they'll wish for the old Mo back.
Here's a hint: it's light & powdery and rhymes with hose-randy. Hangover? Not this morning thankyouverymuch, praise the lord & pass the mirror, this gal's swore off the drink forever!
Needless to say, later in the day we had a birthday party for Crazy Officemate. Since I'm her office companion I was in charge of treats, so I made some of my from-scratch kick-Martha's-ass cream cheese brownies. Because I like my coworkers. Before I suspected most of them of judging me. And everyone is like, "ooooh! These brownies are soooo goood! Soooo goood!" Over & over again.
It took everything I had not to reply, "Yeah, look at that, the Lush can cook."
I think BossLady felt exceptionally bad, because she kept saying, 'great brownies Mo, great!' All I'm saying, she coulda saved the afterschool special talk for after the treat, y'know?
I suppose I could observe something to the extent of, well duh, sooner or later someone would say something, you get what you ask for, that's what you get for drinkin all night, you really learned your lesson now, huh, blah blah blah. Well fuck that!
I'm still going out tomorrow night. And drinkin my four beers. And loudly, continually & colorfully cursing these losers who squeal on me to BossLady with my library babes. Cos I'm hard. and fast. and sacrifice ALL!(No! Alll!)

The [bitter] end.
Sown

Fresh Cut
New digs - 2004-05-25
Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10
Grumble - 2004-05-07
Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05
Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05

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6:42 p.m.	Nothing else will suffice- pay the price!	2003-08-13
Reaped	Ring ring! I pick up the phone. "Hello?" "Hi Mo, I need to see you in my office," says BossLady gravely. "Ooooooh kaaaaaay..." I reply, wondering if my raised eyebrows of surprise are communicated through the phone line. 'In-my-office' talks are not fun. They usually mean you have done something bad. I haven't had one since the whole co-worker screaming incident a couple months back. No idea what I've done now. I thought everything was kosher in libraryland. Maybe it's the blouse with the cut-out shoulders I'm wearing. You know how risque exposed shoulders are these days. BossLady's waiting in front of her office. I enter, she shuts the door. All hopes that this was a 'help me my computer sucks' office visit is left in the lobby. "So," she says, clasping her hands, "remember your evaluation a couple months ago when you had to run the bathroom b/c you were sick?" "Yes," I sigh, and cue the shame spiral. This is what this talk is about. Mo's drinking problem. It was only a matter of time. "Well, you know what you do off-work is your business. But. A couple of your coworkers have, well, expressed some, concern, about your erm, condition these past couple of Fridays. And you did call in sick I believe the tenth of July?" "Yeah..." I reply, but stifle a grin. That was Crab's birthday. I was delightfully not hungover that particular day, though I did enjoy sleeping late. I keep my mouth shut & face serious. "Mo, I don't want to preach here. We both know if you're hungover it's not good for your productivity. And thankfully you weren't on the desk those times..." Yeah, more like she thankfully didn't notice I was hungover those days I was on the desk. "Well Bosslady," I say brightly, "I understand your concern. Actually I only go out Thursday nights, but you'll be happy to know I've found the magic number!" "M-magic number?" She sounds scared. "It's four. Four beers & that's it." "You know it's also how fast you consume it too." she says. "Oh I know. I always leave by 12:30 so i can get enough sleep for the next day. So now that I've found the magic number it probably won't be a problem anymore. To paraphrase the Beastie Boys, I'll check myself before I wreck myself." Smile. BossLady gives me a confused look that I think is supposed to be warm and understanding. "Okay. I just don't want you to jeopardize your job. We have programs here to help you if it's a problem." If she only knew. Internally, I'm shaking my head in disdain. This is crap. This is work people mad that me & L1sa go out & have a good time & a social life one night a week. But i'm not getting mad over this. BossLady is just the messenger. I have a fair suspicion that Crazy Officemate may have something to do with this. Self righteous cat crazy bitch she is. Or any other number of nosy Nellies with which I work. You'd think in this city they'd understand. I feel like someone just hit me on the head with a irony board. "You mean ironing board." "Whatever, they both suck." So that was my big ego-deflater for the day. BossLady's threatening rehab for the one night a week I party. "I know it's hard to make that transition from student to professional," she says, so smug & all knowing about the foolish antics of this mid-twenty year old. But I have a fix for them though, something that'll keep me perky & bright & skinny & bouncing off the walls nuts and so NOT hungover they'll wish for the old Mo back. Here's a hint: it's light & powdery and rhymes with hose-randy. Hangover? Not this morning thankyouverymuch, praise the lord & pass the mirror, this gal's swore off the drink forever! Needless to say, later in the day we had a birthday party for Crazy Officemate. Since I'm her office companion I was in charge of treats, so I made some of my from-scratch kick-Martha's-ass cream cheese brownies. Because I like my coworkers. Before I suspected most of them of judging me. And everyone is like, "ooooh! These brownies are soooo goood! Soooo goood!" Over & over again. It took everything I had not to reply, "Yeah, look at that, the Lush can cook." I think BossLady felt exceptionally bad, because she kept saying, 'great brownies Mo, great!' All I'm saying, she coulda saved the afterschool special talk for after the treat, y'know? I suppose I could observe something to the extent of, well duh, sooner or later someone would say something, you get what you ask for, that's what you get for drinkin all night, you really learned your lesson now, huh, blah blah blah. Well fuck that! I'm still going out tomorrow night. And drinkin my four beers. And loudly, continually & colorfully cursing these losers who squeal on me to BossLady with my library babes. Cos I'm hard. and fast. and sacrifice ALL!(No! Alll!) The [bitter] end.	Sown
Fresh Cut New digs - 2004-05-25 Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10 Grumble - 2004-05-07 Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05 Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05 Random Shearings Rings		Profile Guestbook Mail D-land Older Home 26 Links Bandified Geek Philosopher /. Drudge Worst.Site.Ever.
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