Ben Stein is a bitch...Well, sorta...
So, this morning as the East Coast was shovelling their way out of a surprise late snow storm, I also shovelled my way through a mountain of used kleenex and dirty clothing to rejoin the real world. I've slept through the last 72 hours and I feel much better, though I generally prefer medicine head more when I'm not sick...
It took 32 minutes in the office for me to remember why I'd rather be independently wealthy. The first 20 minutes I played email catch up (Jesus H., can't these people do ANYTHING without me?). The next 8 minutes were spent getting the 4-1-1 from the boss man. 3 minutes to get a Diet Coke from the break room. Then she walked in.
Seriously, Ben Stein's twin sister works in my office. And not kick-ass Win Ben Stein's Money- Ben Stein. No, this is Has Anyone Seen Bueller- Ben Stein. She's a project manager that my boss has lovingly passed me off to as a subject matter expert. I spent the next hour and a half trying desperately to stop myself from figuring out which vital organs might be within a ballpoint pen's reach from my bellybutton, wondering just how difficult it would be to actually get the pen in there, and wondering if I could do it quickly and quietly enough that nobody would try and stop me... She went through 200 lines on her dumbass spreadsheet getting a status update and target completion date for action items like "Order Printer Paper" in her droning monotone squall.
I wonder, if I go to Hugo's office tomorrow, can I convince him that I have the bird flu? Do I know anyone who HAS the bird flu? Would they share a Coke with me?
Why can't they pay me to be this beautiful?
It took 32 minutes in the office for me to remember why I'd rather be independently wealthy. The first 20 minutes I played email catch up (Jesus H., can't these people do ANYTHING without me?). The next 8 minutes were spent getting the 4-1-1 from the boss man. 3 minutes to get a Diet Coke from the break room. Then she walked in.
Seriously, Ben Stein's twin sister works in my office. And not kick-ass Win Ben Stein's Money- Ben Stein. No, this is Has Anyone Seen Bueller- Ben Stein. She's a project manager that my boss has lovingly passed me off to as a subject matter expert. I spent the next hour and a half trying desperately to stop myself from figuring out which vital organs might be within a ballpoint pen's reach from my bellybutton, wondering just how difficult it would be to actually get the pen in there, and wondering if I could do it quickly and quietly enough that nobody would try and stop me... She went through 200 lines on her dumbass spreadsheet getting a status update and target completion date for action items like "Order Printer Paper" in her droning monotone squall.
I wonder, if I go to Hugo's office tomorrow, can I convince him that I have the bird flu? Do I know anyone who HAS the bird flu? Would they share a Coke with me?
Why can't they pay me to be this beautiful?
posted by Dustin at 5:39 PM
1 Comments:
I'd pay ya baby, but then I'd really be broke! :)
Smoochies!
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