and i know this because i acted like me today - and my boss looked at me really funny. and then told me that maybe i should find myself another job.

so i have come to the conclusion that i will have to learn another language. that way i can get away with saying obnoxious things and appear "worldly" and "educated".

for example, saying, "you have legs! you go get it" will result in unemployment.

-whereas-

"vous avez des jambes! vous allez l'obtenez!" results in looks of admiration.

suckers!

but it REALLY is.

[1] and by "audience", i mean "clients".

but it REALLY is.

[1] and by "audience", i mean "clients".

1. more pay.
2. less expectation.

and it would also help if there was office-based chocolate.

and male strippers.

and i would be much obliged if we could incorporate "coloring" into my everyday tasks.

yes. that would make my workplace satisfying.

1. more pay.
2. less expectation.

and it would also help if there was office-based chocolate.

and male strippers.

and i would be much obliged if we could incorporate "coloring" into my everyday tasks.

yes. that would make my workplace satisfying.

augghh! too much information! too much information! too much information!!!

oh just kill me.

augghh! too much information! too much information! too much information!!!

oh just kill me.

but if i have to pick one, it would probably be "stay awake".

• hubba hubba from the rear.
• made obscene noises in response to the view (but only in my head, lest i be charged with sexual harassment - and that's pronounced "har-iss-ment").
• suggested to my co-workers that something very, very dirty is going on between the techie and i; by saying "i'm going to 'lunch' with hubba hubba. because i'm very, very 'hungry'. and i need to 'eat something', right now."
• became quite amused with how easy it is to get a man to stare at whatever part of me i want... lick-lips = man-watch-lips. semi-cross-arms-thereby-creating-greater-cleavage = man-watch-cleavage. hmm... amusing.
• defended my position that it is ok to use my boobs to get free things... hey! all that money i'm saving will help to pay for when i have to get my boobies hiked up.

apparently i will push people away from the refridgerator door at big bootie ho, forcing them to fall. directly. on. their. ass.

s'right! you try to steal my ice cream? YOU GOIN' DOOOOOoown!

then my boss lightened the mood by saying "ahh! now you'll be stupid! get it? wisdom teeth? WISDOM teeth?" *nudge, nudge*

oh HAH! he is so funny.

therefore, i have no other alternative... next time i see him, i am forced to say it...

"is that a lump?"

• sits on her ass in a sassy ergonomic chair.
• occassionally will answer the phone using her porn-star voice... it is fun.
• thinks dirty thoughts.
• draws things using a sophisticated computer program.
• is the token crossbreed.
• leaves early.
• is the bosses favorite - but, not all the time.
• is creatively unsatisfied.
• entertains (if that is what you call it) clients and associates.
• goofs off, but manages to look busy so that her boss is still convinced that she is invaluable.
• goes around the corner to the coffee bar at minimum, 2 times a day.
• walks back and forth and back and forth.
• makes snarky remarks to her co-workers.

ps - this talking about myself in the third person is really quite amusing...

eek! i says!

i first confronted him with a "who the fuck are you?" followed by a "where do you think you're going?" and a "oh, i don't think so!"

and then he ran out. and i ran after him. because i am so very tough... and now everyone at work is either in awe of me, or afraid of me, or both.

ahhh... just the way i like it.

bahahahaha!

the biggest funny-ness today was had when i commented that wearing an "i'm with stupid" shirt would be troubling, because i would have to follow my boss around everywhere so he that would stay on the correct side of the arrow.

hardy har har.

apparently, my funny came from sexual frustration... oh, but don't fret, my people! i'm sure to be frustrated any time now!

long live sexual frustration!!

so, i did what i usually do:

• turn it off. then turn it on.
• unplug it. then re-plug it.
• open the cover thingy (technical term) and look intensely at the ink cartridges.
• poke the printer innards.
• press buttons.

so the prettyboy techie (who is in love with me, by the way) will be coming to the office next week.

woohoo! it's gawkin' time... *ROWR*

"to be. or not to be. that is the questy-ohn."

genius, man. pure genius.

i think i'm going to go become a bartender! ... because i like liquor. and i enjoy talking to strangers for hours on end about nothing.

also - i enjoy tips. and if i want to get a tip in my current line of work, i'm gonna have to start putting out.

gee, thanks dork.

also - dork doesn't know how to zip a file... how lame is that?

ok, i'm bored. and the new employee doesn't get here for 15 whole minutes, and i got no one to fuck with!

somebody had better start entertaining me or i'm going to start singing or something.

p.s. i have an entire week of DIABOLICAL PLANS for the new guy... stay tuned for the details.

i don't think i look like engelbert humperdink at all.

i've gone from thinking my boss (we will call him "lunatic" from now on) was funny in a ridiculous/crazy way, to wanting to pull his little wings off and stand over him with a magnifying glass until i've burned a little hole into his skull.

and he's not even here... so i can't even poke him with my pencil repeatedly... BASTARD!

like, in LUNATIC'S office. on LUNATIC'S tv. in LUNATIC'S swanky leather ergonomic chair. with LUNATIC'S diet cokes. and fancy THEATRE STYLE popcorn (not lunatic's).

but, anyway. back to the movie... i must say that that was the best french film with a midget, siamese twins, clones, and a brain in a fish tank that i have ever seen!

kudos whatever-french-people-made-that-film... KUDOS!

• the lets-see-if-i-can-touch-my-nose-with-my-tongue face.
• the face of many-mouth-contortions.
• the cross-eyed, nose-picking face.

but in other news: i hear it that strange email shenanigans have prohibited me from attaining both an arch-nemesis AND evening entertainment.

well... i just can't have that! so let us try again shall we? click here to become the anti-jennifer. and click here for fun and excitement.

you'll thank me later.

me! you know... his favorite! "miss thang"! that's ME.

of course he has decided to celebrate this newfound love of me by standing behind me and screeching "JENNIFER!!!"

freaking crazy bastard.

previous sups: 1 2

the best way to avoid working for the last half hour of work is to (a) throw your desk into disarray, (b) look pissed off, (c) type really fast into your diaryland diary. also works with instant messenger and email.

hey. i kept typing instant "massager". hmm. where could my mind be?

any guesses?

oh yeah, this is a wise corporate decision... what? do they not notice the excessive amount of slackage going on at my desk? have they not yet realized i have no work ethic? no goals? no desire? no passion? no skills?

oh wait. there is that one skill. tee hee... and that'll get me... err. ok, never mind.

---

hey! someone found piehole while searching google for "nothing funny"... excuse me? nothing funny? excuse me?

i am not finding that amusing at all.

this is day three of operation abstinence... dude! this is hard! heh heh... hard.

and there were puppies in the office today! yes!! PUPPIES!

and there were martinis in the conference room!

and i left today for my occasional dickering, and i hardly got teased at all!

oh, and did i mention the dickering?

*pout*

ok. now that we've got that out of the way, i am going to tell you what i have been thinking.

i think. i might. start taking. my job. seriously.

oh, i know! you must be shocked! and i must be, like, crazy or something! but... y'know. one can only be a lackey for so long before they want to start killing people.

and i'd rather be a nerd than a felon.

and low and behold! i knew it would happen someday! whilst browsing for potential playdates for the bossman, we ran into someone we know!! bahahaha!

now stop laughing and go tell my arch nemesis that's she's an old, old hag.

yes, that's right! they actually trusted me to work when there's no one around to make me work! fools!

but, you know what? photocopying your face is really no fun when there's nobody around to laugh at you.

but on the bright side, i now have a copy of my face. hooray!

would you look at just how dedicated i am? i come to work sick and i don't complain once... PITY ME!

then i get better. and then i get sick again. feck! and i'm not "allowed" at work until i'm better, so i can't even get martyr points. feck, again!

i could try to convince you by telling you about how he loses control over his bowels if someone uses 10-pt. arial in their emails, or how he catches the vapors if the colors of the file holders don't match the color of the label on the drawer... but all you need to know is the man shoots rubber bands at me. how fucked up is that?

so i have come to the conclusion that the only remedy is to have him offed. whacked! sashimi'ed! and using my powerful skills of persuasion, i have convinced jackass to come beat him to a bloody pulp.

hooray!

so now, i ask for your help, dear readers. please send your non-tax-deductable donations to the OFF MY BOSS FUND.

jesus loves you!

but anyway, lunatic must be reading my mind, because he took me in his office and asked me if i was unhappy. and this is the face i made:

and then he told me he wanted me to stay. hah!

anyway, now i have to amuse myself in other ways... muahahaaa!

erm. your guess is as good as mine as to why saying that makes me laugh my evil laugh.

• almost drank last friday's cup of coffee... bleh.

• received news that alters her plans for bootie tomorrow.

• ate vat of cheese for lunch. might have clogged arteries. must be dying.

• walked into cabinet door pull. it hurty my leggy.

• package of apple newtons left open one too many times. now too stale to eat.

• boss kissed her on cheek (what?!?). probably have cooties now.

"thank god it wasn't jennifer! i'd have whipped my checkbook right out!
i'd give her anything she wanted!"

do you know what this means?!?

hmm... maybe i won't quit, maybe i'll just become the most overpaid lackey in all of seattle.

muahahahaaa.

---

also i would like to send a SHUTUP! out to spanky. i so do not have a boyfriend! *thbt*

• frequent mention of genitalia.
• singing the office anthem "diarrhea, diarrhea, diarrrrrheeeeaa!"
• installation of chinese firecrackers in the boys toilet.
• homoerotica.
• refusal to answer to anything but "princess sparkly pants".

* i cannot tell a lie. "fucky" is not mine. it's mat's

so, rather than hospitalization, i had to spend the day with lunatic down at the building department... ALL! DAY!

and that's way more torture than a pesky stab wound.

ps - apparently, my boss loves me to death... this is him all day - "gush, gush, love, love, beam, beam". and this is me all day - "puke, puke, eye-roll, eye-roll, ralph, spew".

next monday i'm going in my bathrobe, and i'll see what happens.

---

also, i broke my keyboard at work today... it might've had something to do with the whole spilling-water-on-the-keyboard-thing (but you didn't hear that from me, ok?).

anyway, the "g" doesn't work anymore. and according to my timesheet, i was in a "desin meetin" from 2 to 3:30.

we'all talked about arkeytecture and grits fur almost two arrs! yeeeehaw!

they done locked me in the office! and turned on the alarm! and i can't leave the studio or the motion detectors will get me. and i have to pee...

bwaaaaaah!

"(insert breathy porn voice) did you miss me?"

"no, i said 'spank me'."

"well if i was alone in the room..."

and apparently, i only think i'm tough. because he then asked me some very suggestive questions. and i said "umm... err... eh... "

hey. only sane people talk to themselves, don't you know... all you other people are freaks. which may explain why some of you all insist on calling me weird * or twisted * or crazy or nuts.

now excuse me while i go hurl myself at the devil.

FYI: the devil lives in san diego, which proves my theory that southern california is hell. and also prohibits me from physically hurling myself at the devil. *phew!*

and i deeply resent having to get out of it.

i'm going to wear my jammie pants to work in protest. GRR!

hey! you should do it too! SOLIDARITY!! FIGHT THE MAN!! Get up, stand up! Stand up for your rights!

or my rights. whatever.

hmm... maybe because people want me to kick them right in their ass?

yes. that must be it.

1. if you put a basket of mini cinnamon rolls on my desk, i will eat them... ALL!

2. i am so ticklish that you can just PRETEND to tickle me and i will pee myself.

3. if dared, i will touch my foot to my forehead in the middle of a coffee shop.

4. whenever i do anything even remotely impressive and/or difficult, i say "ta-da!" for example:

   [attaches paper clip to thick stack of papers] "TA-DA!"

5. i'm the autocad mastah! the mastah of autocad! FEAR ME!!

hows THAT for some fascinating reading?

oooooh! triage! HA HA! fun-ny!

don't they know i got where i am today because of my boobs?

however, i am now overworked. please send architect with extensive knowledge of autocad and submissive disposition.

also, please send benicio del torro. naked. and with tequila.

OLE!

no really, i can prove it! kiss me! KISS ME!

you know you wanna.

do you want the beige carpet? or the beige carpet? ... or the BEIGE carpet?

fucking close your eyes and point, bastards! i don't care if one is called "chenille" and the other is called "suede" and the other is "chardo-fucking-nnay".

it's all the same freakin' color!

BEIGE!

gah!

suckage #2
have to brush hair.

suckage #3
cannot remove shoes while speaking with potential clients.

gah! my socks keep gravitating all to one side, and it was all tight on my toes! OW! TIGHT! HELP MY BABY TOE!

except for today. because i am dying... or i'm just a big baby.

---

and for your amusement, here are some things heard 'round the office this morning:

"all my holes should be the same size!"

"we have a loose associate."

"i want to carry around a big poop in a bag."

"when you cry? i laugh. HA HA!"

"i hate you."

I don't want to talk about clothes! Or namedrop! Or hear about those friggin' monkeys that snuck into his tent in Kenya! Again!

GAH! I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE MONKEYS!!

You boob!

Anyway, my I'm still gimpy and I am itchin' for some bacon.

---

Coworker A: I'm going to get coffee, want something?

Me: BACON!

---

Coworker B: I'm going to the bank, want me to get you something while I'm out?

Me: BACON!

---

Coworker C: Hey, Jen...

Me: BACON!

Shoot me.

And in other Very Important Line drawing news... I now have two freelancing gigs. Yay! And a cute name for this business venture!

Draw

Is that not the cutest name ever? It's so cute, you should pinch it.

Anyway! Go say happy birthday to my pretend internet boyfriend ... But don't buy him anything, because he didn't buy me anything for International Jennifer Day. So as far as I'm concerned, he don't deserve nothin'!

And that includes those boobie pictures he requested.

Fat chance, bub.

Just when I had gotten the stench of Freak Bus out of my nose...

Also of note: People are stupid.

Overheard at the corner of 3rd and Madison (while viewing burly firemen entering a building across the street):

Dumbass: "Yeah. I heard there were terrorists in that building."

Freakin' idiot.

So that way, when I get home I get lots of messages. And then, I think I'm all popular or something... But noooo it's just a stupid engineer.

Bah!

Maybe I'm subconsciously giving out my home phone number to work people because I am desperate for companionship. Or maybe I'm just stupid.

I vote for stupid.

And speaking of gay men... We have a new employee next month... And unlike the previous employee, this one is not ambiguously gay. He be FLAMIN'!

I will call him "Really Gay Architect"

Also, I have a strange pokey feeling in my former hamfoot. I think my foot can tell the weather now.

Me: Fat? Ugly? Short?

MFH: He's not any of those things, hon.

Me: No? No fat?

MFH: No fat.

Me: No short?

MFH: No short.

Me: No ugly?

MFH: Noooo ugly.

Me: Damnit! I was hoping he was a troll.

MFH: Nope. Noooo troll.

Me: Oh, shut up.

MFH: Mmm Mmm MMM!

Me: Go away.

MFH: H-O-T

Me: I hate you.

MFH: CuuuuuUTE!

Me: How come you can go see my pretend California boyfriend, and I can't?

MFH: Because I'm prettier.

*PS* Do not get in a slapfight with a gay man. They hit harder and their hands are bigger.

*PSS* I'm prettier!!

Now I am forced to pull out the big guns. Yes, that's right folks... I'm going to have to start giggling like a damn fool!

You see, he will be so enticed by the giggling that he will have to fly up to Seattle to "occupy" my "time" until I tell Geriatric Mark that he's my boyfriend.

I mean, is there anyone out there who doesn't fall in love with me immediately?

I'm so adorable! So funny! So personable! GOD, I'M PERFECT! I LOVE ME! ... How can you stand it?!

However, in transit? I will kick your ass... If you invade my personal space? I will CHOKE your TINY CHINESE NECK!

Try to fall asleep on me will you? THE NERVE!

I am drinking a martini! At work!

Ahhh. This is the life. Getting paid to hang around with the fruits and drink fruffy yuppie drinks that taste like envelope glue.

Ah, delicious envelope tape! How I love you! *Hiccup*

But in other more sobering news... My bra is cutting off all the circulation to the lower half of my body! I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS! I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!

AUGH! Why, oh why do i have to listen to the elevator version of Elton John all day long at work?! Why! Why! Whhhhyy!?

I'm this close to impaling myself on this box of colored pencils! Aaaaaaah!

I am a little concerned about my willingness to let strangers touch me... For example, if you walk up to me and grab my arm in the grocery store, I'll be all "Hey, how ya doin?"

Yup. Just come on over and feel me up. Apparently, I don't care.

And in other news, Satan is a very large aggravation! Get this... He wants me to do my job... Can you believe the nerve? Damned pushy big ass exacerbating tyrant! LEAVE ME BE!

There is nothing quite so disturbing as watching your boss dance.

Internal monologue: "Please. Stop. No... Not the hussle... Help... Me."

But anyway... Look at what happened to my bee sting!

Ewww! DISEASE!

Also of note. Dude! Check out my Popeye arm! Arr! I eats me spinach!

And now check out how good my aim with a camera is!

Wheeee! Jazz hands!

I am plotting an evil takeover of the office. Or I'm just going to fall to the floor and throw a big hissy fit... Yes. The answer is so obvious now! HISSY FIT IT IS!

Or maybe just margaritas.

And stabbing people.

I would seriously rather stab myself in the arm with a fork than answer the fucking phone ONE MORE TIME... The boss goes on vacation, I'm the only one who bothers to show up, and now I have to play SECRETARY!?

Aww, HELL no. Hell fucking shit NO!

But on the lighter side... I am currently patiently IM'ing the loverly Geriatric Mark in the hopes of hookin' myself up with a little ac-shee-on. Maybe followed by the ol' what for, a little sumptin' sumptin', some hoo ha, and a rousing game of charades!

Because I loves me some charades!

:frustrated:

Bah!! Absolutely everything went wrong today at work... Except for the part where I got a picture from the site with My Pretend California Boyfriend in the background... WITH NO SHIRT ON!

Lordy, lordy... I needs to make a trip down to San Diego. To get me some Gorgeous Half-naked Construction Site Pretend California Man Meat Boyfriend... Or whatever.

But now? I NEED A FLIPPIN' DRINK! And since nobody is around to go with me, I have to go to the bar all alone... Just like the little crack whore I am.

:drunk:

PS. Look! I made the smilie macros work! I'M A GENIUS!

PSS. Last call! This is the last call for getting your own gen-u-ine Hawaiian postcard! Send me your mailing address now!

This morning my boss said "Aaah! You're wearing make-up today!" And I thought... Dude. I wear 18 lbs of make-up every day.

What? Did he think I had big black lines around my eyes naturally?

Also today! We have a new employee! Yay! And so far, we've had a conversation about Pez, Bruce Lee, and how there should be a bull-dyke version of "Queer Eye"... I might have to love her.

:wub:

Lunatic has this very interesting way of keeping me happy with my workplace environment.

It is called... MONEY.

Woo! I just got another 10% raise... Which will go very nicely with August's 10% raise. Yay! I'm happy!

Other things that make me happy are:

1. Dark chocolate Tim Tams,
2. Imagining Ron Cribb buck naked, and
3. Children (aged 3 years) saying the word "idiot".

No, seriously. Go listen to my baby say "idiot".

I have been the laziest bastard in all of half-ass town.

I've sitting here all day at work getting paid to do butt ass nothing... Not a goddamned thing! Except be bored... And shop for cute bags and cuter notebooks and even cuter airfare.

Whoopee.

And tonight? I shall go out with Three Chinky Girls and One Honky to celebrate my raise, and The Honky's brothers recent relapse into drug addiction.

Par-tay!

But in other news! Bean left the funniest damn message in the whole entire world on my answering machine.

There was much talk of ass, and of my assmastery... Because, you see, I am the ass master. The master of ass.

Poor me. All alone at work while everyone else is either on vacation or quit while I was away on vacation or just doesn't feel like coming in... POOR ME!

So to amuse myself, I will post pictures of my very empty, very boring, working environment:

The view of my desk as seen by people who come up behind me and scare the freaking bejesus out of me.

Do you see how alone I am today? I AM ALONE! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! No wonder I need so many cookies.

All these years I've been sitting at my desk complaining about how my stupid computer monitor is on this stupid arm thing and I keep getting stupid neck and shoulder pains because I have to keep looking down at the stupid screen, and OH MY GOD, I hate that STUPID ARM!

So, I'm officially fed up, and I start throwing a hissy fit. And after I'm done throwing things off my desk, I go to rip the computer monitor off the arm, and... LO AND BEHOLD! The fucker raises up!

Why... I should have done this sooner!

So the lesson here, folks, is: Do not delay. Throw your tantrums immediately.

Whelp... Apparently, I cannot keep myself from sexually harassing construction workers. But in my defense, I cannot help myself! This behavior is completely ingrained in my persona! It's not my fault! I suffer from Shameless-Flirt Syndrome! Not. My. Fault.

But, you know. I really should stop talking to consultants about boobs and masturbation and just how easy I am once you get me drunk.

Not very professional.

Love, love, love! I love my coworkers. I love the neighborhood we're in. I love never being in trouble because everybody loves me. I love getting paid more money than my parents (Muaahaha). And I love getting emails from my loopy boss saying the following:

See... Even The Gays know it.

PS. Text messages still scaring the crap out of me! I hope you're having fun Cappy! And Bren! And Mikey! And Joelle!

Somebody should have warned me that Irish coffee is 1% coffee, and 99% Irish. Wooooooo!

But, dude. Am I ever glad it's Friday. This has been one long, long busy week... Oh. Did I forget to mention that I am now The Boss of Everything? Oh yes. I am... The Boss. Of Everything.

Prostrate yourself.

There has been way too much work, not enough internet, and way too much snooze-button pressing. But on the other hand, I am being tickled to death by my newfound responsibilities... And getting to sign my name, Jennifer Surname, The Boss of Everything? Is making me so happy I need to wear underwear.

PS. Happy Halloween!

I wonder how much longer I can sit here and stare at a color sample called "eggwhite" and a color sample called "biscuit" and pretend that they're different colors?

Zero minutes?

I don't understand why Lunatic insists on having "spa scented" Glade Plug-Ins in the bathrooms... Why would he want it to smell like hot baby wipes in there?

Dude... No. Really. Dude! DUDE!

Lunatic is in South America for the next month. HOORAY! No more Moulin Rouge soundtrack! YIPPEE! No more instrumental versions of Elton John! And Miami Sound Machine! And Tina Turner! ... OH MY GOD! I'm so happy I could cry!

I was so close to dropping dead.

Now, listen up, boys... This is a what a condom looks like.

Stop using tea bags.

I should really think about moving my speakers away from my phone. Even if it does make site supervisors laugh, playing "Kung Fu Fighting" DIRECTLY INTO THE RECEIVER is not indicative of this firms image.

PS. Contractor asks why he always laughs when he talks to me. Answer? Because I'm a freaking bozo... Who likes to tell people on the phone about my plans to wax my boyfriends lower back while he sleeps.

Jeez!

I'm so FUCKING BORED! Just look at how I've been spending my time...

Somebody please! Give me some work! That doesn't involve filing! Aaaaaaaaaah!

Things I've seen so far this morning:

1. A soy peppermint latte. With sprinkles! Yay!
2. A guy wearing a red sweater, walking a dog wearing a red sweater! Ha!
3. Half naked guy walking around the office.

Geesh! Isn't there some kind of rule that prohibits boys from wandering around my office without their shirts on?

If there is, LET'S ABOLISH THAT RULE IMMEDIATELY!

Screw the frickin' massage! I just got my Christmas bonus and its FOUR times larger that the last Christmas bonus. Woo hoo!

I'm poppin' this joint, baby! Bye bye wanderlust, hello South Pacific!

Watch out Boogerhead! I'm coming, and I'm bringing really crappy candy and making you eat it.

You know how sometimes, you'll come into work and your boss will say "Good morning, gorgeous!"

No? You mean that's just me?

Why, OF COURSE it's just me! I'm fabulouser than you!

There is ABBA playing in the office today! How much more gay could it get in here?

The last time there was disco playing in the office, I ended up doing the robot in the middle of the design studio. Today, all I did was a little disco chair dancing.

From this we can gather than I am, in fact, becoming more professional as I get older...

... Or that the chances of me acting like an idiot are greatly increased when the number of people who have to watch me behave completely unprofessionally is more than ONE.

PS. Seriously. What am I doing at work today? It's Sunday for craps sake!

You know how when you work at a computer all day, and you're just, like, so absorbed with drawing very important lines that you forget to blink until your eyeballs are totally all dried out and then when you close your eyes, they burn! Oh how they burn!

That can't be good.

But I didn't just draw my face off today. I also discovered that if you eat a whole lot of altoids all at once, it feels very similar to ice-cream headache, except your nostrils burn at the same time.

Eeeenteresting.

I have declared today "The Very Best of Fleetwood Mac All Day Long In The Office Day"... Yes. I own it. I keep it right in-between "The Bee Gee's Greatest Hits" and "Essential Kenny Loggins".

STOP LAUGHING! You know you love Kenny Loggins.

Fess up, chickens!

The best thing about working in this field is that I have my finger on the pulse of the toilet industry... Envy me!

Apparently, there's a toilet that automatically lifts and closes the lid, flushes, purifies the air, has an adjustable heated seat. And a remote control!

WHAT FOR?!?!? Why do you need to control your toilet from another room?! And where would you leave it? Next to the TV? And how would you explain your toilet-remote to your friends?

Also? I really don't want to know what it's "oscillating & pulsating comfort washing" feature entails.

Or maybe I do?

Reason #4218 why I love my job:

An obscene amount of our emails start with "aaaah" or "arg" or "barf" or "blech". And we totally still pretend like we're professionals or something.

I'm going home! Yay!

Err... I don't know why I'm celebrating since I just worked my weekend away. But at least this time I might be home before 6... Or maybe I'll just find out if there's such a thing as happy hour on a Sunday.

(Is there happy hour on a Sunday? Do I even care?)

Now excuse while I go get bloody stinking drunk. Or maybe I'll just have a beer and pass out.

(Woe is you... Maybe I'll be interesting next week. Stay tuned.)

Our new office manager is listening to conservative talk radio in her office!

What does she think she's doing?!? Doesn't she know this is a FANCY GAY DESIGN FIRM?

She'd better watch her back, because homos bitchslap hard.

1. Nobody interrupts my very zen line drawing.
2. Nobody interrupts my very zen blog-updating.
3. Nobody complains if I sing "Sometimes! All the need is the aaaaaair that I breeeeeeeeeeeeeathe!"
4. All those peanut butter Girl Scout cookies? MINE! All MINE!
5. Two words: No pants.

All day long, no phone calls, nobody buzzing at the door... So why is it that once I have a gyro in hand, everybody wants me?!? Two door-buzzers and 8 kajillion phone calls?!?

What is up, people? Why don't you want me to eat a gyro? I HAVE ALTOIDS! I won't be all tzatziki-y!

Guess what? It's warm outside! And where is Jennifer? INSIDE!

There is something seriously wrong with this picture, and I blame it all on :lunatic:. How dare he come back from a month-long hiatus and ruin my one sunny day! The nerve.

I am also seriously perturbed by the fact that I appear to be the only one in the whole wide world who doesn't draw houses by pulling details out of my ass. WITH ABSOLUTELY NO REGARD FOR REALITY! Hello!?!?

How about, from now on, if they draw something ridiculous, I just beat them to death with my copy of Architectural Graphic Standards?

(I'm so professional, no?)

That wrinkle in the middle of my eyebrows is starting to be a concern. Hello? Botox?

Too bad there's no way in hell I'm letting someone inject poison INTO MY FACE. Even if we ARE being interviewed tomorrow by a nationally known TV journalist. Who is hot. And quite possibly hotter in person.

Because, frankly? I don't think they're going to introduce me to the hot nationally known TV journalist... Because when :lunatic: announced said interviewing, my eyeballs popped out of my head. And he's already had so much trouble keeping me from "having sex on the phone" with our associates.

*Cough*:pretend:*Cough*

Today, I almost CRIED. And not for my normal crying reasons like somebody poked me in the eye, or I'm being forced to watch The Swan... I almost cried because we moved a door 6 inches.

So, as you can see, I'm totally sane.

Apparently, I have a habit of overreacting because OH MY GOD THE WHOLE PERMIT SET IS DUE ON FRIDAY AND WOULD THE FLOOR PLAN PLEASE STOP MOVING?!?!? I CAN'T DO THIS ALL BY MYSELF! GAH! I'M HYPERVENTILATING! *WHEEZE*

But I am a man of action. I mean girl of action. I mean woman of action. (Eww. Am I a woman now? Yucky!)

So, this morning I figured if I couldn't use alcohol or shopping, my regular tools of relaxation, than I had better figure out some way to calm my hysterical ass down.

And I got it! HIPPIES! Who's more relaxed than hippies? Nobody! Except for maybe dead people! So I'm totally dressed like a hippie! That'll fix me!!

... And no. Not tie-dye. I'm hysterical not flippin' nuts.

Early on in my employment, I accused my boss of being a coke addict. (Hey, it's not my fault he had very suspicious allergies.) And then I accused him of having an 80's haircut. And then I accused him of lying about his height. And then I accused him of... Well, you get the idea.

The idea is: I am mean.

But anyway! Tomorrow we are officially interviewing for 2 relief positions at Big Bootie Ho*. YAY!! I will get my own peons! This is just what I've always wanted!

That will be their official job title, by the way... "Peon"... And if I'm not allowed to call them "peon" (for whatever stupid reason that could be), I'm going to pout, and make up mean nicknames for them like I did that other guy who worked here and wouldn't let me call him "Spanky".

See? I'm totally mean.

I must warn everyone... NEVER APPLY FOR A JOB AT BIG BOOTIE HO!

Apparently, our HR woman likes to annoy the living shit right out of applicants... Seventy five minutes of being asked how attribute blocks and xrefs make them feel??!? Geesh! I'm surprised no one has shot us yet. Hell, I want to kill us. And I am us.

You know, I thought being able to handpick my own peons would be a wonderful experience in being an asshole... But alas. It's not. I want to bash my own head in.

And? If my boss keeps telling the candidates "Jennifer likes it when they bow", he's going to scare away all my prospective peons, damn it!

OK. So today I have to sit quietly in judgement at three interviews, finish an entire interior elevations package for one house, draw the preliminary floor plans for TWO houses, move a chimney, answer one bazillion kajillion outstanding RFI'S, file shit, fix shit, schedule shit, and lots of other shits... And then my boss asks me why I forgot to order light bulbs.

DUDE! We're lucky I'm remembering to put pants on in the morning.

Hold onto your pants! ... We're making an offer to a prospective employee today! Right now! Right this morning!!! Ooooh! I so hope she accepts!!

Oh, how stupid. OF COURSE she'll accept. How can you not want to work where the boss travels frequently, giving you the freedom to rent a French movie and sit in his office watching it on his TV in your jammies, with your bare feet up on his desk, drinking his diet Coke and eating his Healthy Choice microwave popcorn?

... Not that I've ever done that or anything.

Do you think it would be acceptable for me to hop on a plane to Berkeley, special, just to punch somebody in his big stupid head?

I won't go into detail because I'll end up saying phrases like "hardware schedule issues" and "2-3/4" backsets", and then your brain cells will die. But suffice to say I'm only a few minutes away from screaming, "Gah! If I have to answer the same question ONE MORE TIME, I'm going to KILL YOU!"

It was New Peon's first day today! Yay! ... Although it may be her last seeing as she claims that we are hazing her.

But, come on... Since when is guzzling a pitcher of beer and being forced to dance on a table hazing? We'd have let her keep her clothes on! And there weren't even any funnels involved... So far.

And we didn't really mean it about the neck tattoos... So far.

But I totally meant it about the bowing.

By 9:00 this morning I'd already screamed "AAAAAUGGHHHHH!!!!" in the design studio... I predict it will be a 5-AUGH! day. That's like a new record!

Also! I'm not supposed to know about it yet, but I'm getting a promotion. Which is confusing since I don't know how you can get any higher up on the totem pole than Boss of Everything, but whatever. I'm sure we can think up an appropriate title.

Ever since I got that promotion I'm not supposed to know about, my job has changed from drawing-very-important-lines to writing stink letters to people. For example:

Dear Bastard,
You suck. I hate you.

Love,
Jennifer

Cannot draw exterior elevations without building section. Cannot draw building section without roof plan. Cannot draw roof plan without exterior elevations.

GAH!

But enough about work! Let's talk about stuff in my life that isn't work! OK. Here goes... Yep... Uh... Well... hrm... OK. Never mind. I'll just do this:

I'M BACK! And either this office is really cold, or I am getting very turned on by my new flat screen monitor.

So, I was officially promoted the other day. And since they wrote the position special for me, those people... You know those people who have worked with me for years? Who listen to me talk about me, me, me all day long? The same people who first noticed that when you turn on my cell phone it says "Hail to the Princess!!" You know, those people? Those people decided it was a good idea to let me pick out my title.

Chumps.

Here I thought I was going to get the gigantic load of work off my back once I got a peon or two. Ha! Silly, silly me! Silly, working-all-weekend me. Silly, working-late-all-next-week me. Oh silly, no-life-having me.

I am so silly!

The next few weeks ain't gonna be pretty folks. Prepare for Miss Crankypants!

But then, extreme bitchiness is the price you pay to fill the world with ostentatious vacation homes.

Today a U.S. Congressman called me at the office about some very important line drawing... And dude! He totally introduced himself as "Congressman [insert name here]"... How funny is that?

Then I screamed to :lunatic: "CONGRESSMAN [INSERT NAME HERE] IS ON THE PHONE! EEEEE!" And then I peed myself and screamed like a little girl.

I's what they call a "professional".

I hate answering questions I already freaking answered this morning! ARG! I'm going to punch somebody!

PS. Anyone available for punching and kicking is asked to report immediately to the offices of Big Bootie Ho for a vigorous ass-kicking.

I cannot BELIEVE that I totally forgot to tell you all that I have a new "intern"... Or as we, here at Big Bootie Ho, like to call him: "The New Girl".

My new girl is a boy, and is very youthful and innocent looking, and I was looking forward to corrupting him, but then he said "shit" the other day, and ruined all my fun... Stupid new girl!

So far this week, I have made him show me how to draw things prettier, called him a "goddess", and told him I hate him... This is going to be GREAT!

Sometimes, someone will come into my office and start talking to me about buildings and stuff, and I will smile and nod and say stuff like "interesting", but on the inside, I am crying... Hello?!? I have NO IDEA what these people are talking about!

Heh heh... Heh. Can you believe that I am responsible for keeping people's houses upright? HAHAHA! What idiot gave me this job?!?

And now if you will excuse me, I am going to go get a VERY LARGE DRINK, because, you know, all this not-knowing-anything is extremely draining.

Does it mean that you're perverted when someone in the office says "caulk" but you think "cock" and then you burst out laughing?

And not even, like, regular laughing. More like, snorting, snotty, hysterical laughing.

You know you've had too many margaritas at lunch when you've spent 10 minutes laughing hysterically at a table made of wee wooden bears... But, HA HA! That's hilarious! People actually seriously have that in their house! And not for kitsch value! HA HAHAHAA!

This morning our 12 year old intern brought in raspberry glazed donuts and it took all my self control not to hug him and squeeze him and tell him I love him.

And then, while high on all the sugar, I offered to make everyone omelets on my imaginary hot-plate, confessed my love for girly TV shows like Gilmore Girls and Desperate Housewives, sang Funky Cold Medina, and talked about how strange I thought it was that a straight, burly, Norwegian man wouldn't want to go see Earth Wind & Fire... Why not?!? I don't get it?!

I should've known something was amiss when I poured cream into this morning's office coffee, and it didn't change color.

I guess this is my penance for having kissy dreams about coworkers... BUT I COULDN'T HELP IT! He woo'ed me with the donuts! Just ask Yoda... Not my fault.

A wee bit late, but just for the record, Aussie Mama is cracking my shit up.

Today we had no internet access at work. (GASP!) And under normal circumstances, I would have thought that we all would be running around Big Bootie Ho screaming "OH MY GOD! NO INTERNET ACCESS! GAH! KILL US!"

Instead we discussed all the ways we will make our clients vacation home more porny.

• "Crackle" mirrored ceiling.
• 8 foot hot tub. (Pronounced: "tuuuu-b") *
• Two dishwashers. One for the dishes, one for the dildos. **
• Disco ball chandelier in entry foyer.
• Revolving circular bed.

* We're totally doing this!

** We're totally doing this too!

You know how sometimes you're on a conference call at work, and then you start talking, and you actually sound like you know what you're talking about, and not only that but, check it out, you're totally smart! And then when you get off the phone you go "Holy crap! Look at me! I'm a fucking grown up"?

That totally negates the smart.

At Big Bootie Ho today, Twelve and I yelled out "SHOW US YOUR BOOBS!" Twice.

That officially makes this Princess gig the best gig in all the history of Gigland... I COULD NOT. LOVE THIS JOB. ANY MORE.

My jackass disagrees, but I think that there is absolutely nothing cruel about making fun of a consultant's last name (H@yh0e *) by dancing around the office singing "HIP HOP HOORAY! HOE! H@Y! H0E!" and asking if it's OK for me to come to the meeting later this week wearing a big clock around my neck.

That's not cruel, that's friggin' hilarious.

* Look at me being all slick-like with the @ and the 0. Maybe I won't get fired for this?

In an hour, I have a very long, very boring meeting, where I will have to stop myself from shouting out "Hip Hop Hooray! Ho! Hay! Ho!" because, despite my advanced age, I'm really, really immature, and COME ON. His name is H@yh0e! How can I stop myself? How?

Also there will be a pretty Swedish engineer there, so not only am I guaranteed to offend, I'm quite certain that I will be doing that thing I do when there's somebody pretty in the room. You know? Where I talk THISFAST and I crack jokes, and make inappropriate comments, and maybe do pirate impressions... Hell, it's quite possible that I may end up humping a leg.

Am I going to be fired today?

During a site meeting earlier today, a client of mine talked about the look on his wife's face when he took her into the space that will be their master bedroom suite. And then he looked pained and gripped his chest and said, "Ugh. That's what I live for".

And then my heart burst into a million billion pieces.

Now, I'm not sure where my cockles are but I can assure you they are SMOKING HOT!

[Edited to say: Don't you people see? He lives for his wife's happiness! Could you not just die?]

This morning, I had a meeting with a Muppet. Who knew the Swedish Chef was such a whiz at architectural pathology?

It was a good thing too. Because if it wasn't for all the "bork bork bork", I'd have fallen fast asleep.

1. Greet business associates with, "Yo! What up?"

2. Play Kenny Rogers' "You Decorated My Life" (This time with lip sync'ing! And louder!) even though everyone has expressed a keen disinterest in hearing it again.

3. Ask really stupid questions like:
   
   Why is Hootie from "Hootie and the Blowfish" so offended when people call him Hootie? THAT'S YOUR NAME, DARYL! It says so right there.
   
   Why is it "Right Said Fred" and not "Right Said Richard"? Or at least "Right Said Fred and Richard"? If I was Richard, I'd be totally pissed.

4. List things that you can put in your pocket.
   Small puppies
   Stolen merchandise
   Prince

5. Shake empty coffee cup and exclaim, "AAAH! There's no coffee in here!" about 500 times.
   

Due to an inability to find suitable overnight babysitter, am unable to go to San Francisco with :lunatic: today, as planned... But it's probably a good thing, because I haven't been able to stop talking like Arnold Swarzenegger all morning, and that? Is a little bit unprofessional.

"Wheah ees my staplah? Who took my staplah?"
"Check owwt thees limestowne waash."
"Eat me, girly maan."

Ah. How I love to be the Boss of Everything! Why, I've already screeched "WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY?!?" at my boss, threatened on several occasions to fly down to California and stab a contractor in the neck, and asked if it was margarita-time yet about 447851 times.

Is it margarita-time yet?

"Gah! I can't breathe out of one of my nostrils! Gah!"

"Ack! Now both! I CAN'T BREATHE! I'm going to die!"

(Drinks coffee) "Gah!! I can't drink coffee and breathe at the same time! THIS IS VERY INCONVENIENT!"

"What does it mean when you blow your nose and you get all lightheaded? AM I DYING?"

(Gasp) "Can't. Breathe."

1. "Goddammit, Jennifer!"

2. "You're a big fucking queen."
   (Followed by laughter as big fucking queen acknowledges, Ha ha! Yes! I am a big fucking queen!)

3. "Show us your boobs!"

4. "Show us your... LATS!"

5. "Show us your... UNIVERSAL TV REMOTE!"

6. "Dude. You put your hand on my knee for an inappropriate length of time. Stop sexually harassing me."

7. "I couldn't get it up this morning."
   (Amazingly? This is NOT a reference to the pee pee!)

8. "Hello, too much information police!"

9. "Whatevah! I do what I want."

10. "We're not immature. We just watch a lot of cartoons."
    

I talk to inanimate objects with alarming frequency... Like today, I told the drawer to "GIVE IT ALREADY!" And I called out for my pen, "Here, pen pen pen. Here pen." And I called the printer a fucker.

I think I may be a moron... I mean, really. "Here, pen pen pen"? I'm totally stupid.

Also, according to my boss, my blouse is "a little revealing for work, isn't it?" But doesn't he realize that it could really be a whole lot worse? This is as appropriate as I can possibly dress in the spring.

PS. Are you as PROFOUNDLY DISTURBED by this as me? (((shudder)))

My boss has started to encourage dancing in the office... :blink:

Um. Has he not met me? ... Or is he just not interested in me actually working at work anymore?

PS. I don't know what he's on, but WOO HOO!

PSS. I'm looking forward to when he starts encouraging drinking in the office. And maybe movie watching in the office. And talking about makeup in the office. And shopping online in the office.

Did you know, that if you spill coffee all over your optical mouse, the right-clicker sticks? ... And it is so inconvenient to have to peel the button up all the time!

OHMIGAWD!!!1!!!!11! I am being inconvenienced! Quick! Somebody come over here and clean it for me!

Lesson #1: Ask yourself, "Would I be comfortable having this person massage my feet?"

PS. Does anyone know how I got roped into being the interviewer of prospective interns? Because I don't remember agreeing to this at all!

Twelve: IRL?

New Intern: Huh?

Me: In Real Life.

New Intern: Oh.

Me: Is it nerdy that I know what that means?

Twelve: Yes.

Me: LOL!

Twelve: ROFL!

Me: LMAO!

Twelve: WTF!

Me: OMG!

New Intern: ?!??!??????

When did everybody in the whole world hire Big Bootie Ho? OH MY GOD! So many lines to draw, so little time to meet deadlines!

It's a good thing I love the crap out of my job, or else I would hate the crap out of my job... Observe:

Cons:

1. Limited coloring opportunities
   
2. Have to draw stuff that hurts my brain. (WHY IS THIS ROOF SO STUPID?!? WHY!?!!!)
   
3. XM Watercolors
   
4. Occasionally have to talk to annoying people
   
5. Not enough puppies

• "We're not immature, we just watch a lot of cartoons."
• "Todd... His name in Spanish is Tòdd."
• "I thought he would sound fatter."
• "That's my pen! I don't know you!"
• "I advise you to shove it."
• "Email is for chumps."

There is construction going on in our office today, and they have sealed me off in the design studio! I AM IN A PLASTIC BUBBLE! I feel like E.T.

Also. The hammering. The sawing. The drilling. The air compressor. OH THE IRRITATION. I can't concentrate on anything... Because I am slowly goING INSANE! The noise! I can't take it! Gah!

PS. No work tomorrow! Because there will be additional hammering and sawing and drilling and air compressoring! And if I have to come in, I will end up jumping out the window... So mark your calendars! Tomorrow is "Jennifer Is Drunk All Day" Day!

Hooray!

Number of times someone has said my name in that "You're in so much trouble missy!" tone of voice: 2

Number of times someone has said my name in that "OHMYGOD! I can't believe you said that!" tone of voice: 1

Number of times I called myself "clever, heh heh heh": 3

Number of times my eyeballs rolled into the back of my head because... the noise... this renovation is going to drive me batty: 45302

I have been trying for days now to convince my boss that I am a ninja by:

1. Noiselessly sneaking past his office every morning.
   
2. Jumping out from behind filing cabinets and going, "Hi-ya!"
   
3. Making ninja stars out of misshapen paper clips.
   
4. Tossing a bag of eraser dust onto the ground and saying "POOF!" ... and disappearing into middair! Or not! But I'm making the "poof" sound effect, so still very ninja-esque!
   
5. Saying, "I am a ninja!" a lot.

He has not bought it yet.

Q: How offensive would your company logo be if you manufactured tiny ice cube trays called "Frigid Midgets"?
A: Really really really really offensive.

Q: How do you make Swedish Fish?
A: Paint and sugar. (This according to very reliable and Swedish source.)

Q: What do Swedish sources think you are calling them when you call them "dreamy"?
A: Slutty.

Q: When requesting someone drive from the Eastside to Capitol Hill to bring you cupcakes, what should you not call him first?
A: Slutty.

Q: What makes Jennifer all talky, so that she updates The Hole THREE TIMES today?
A: Doing it.

I had all these vague, half-assed plans to spend this Labor Day weekend alternating between sleeping and lying in bed practically sleeping. With the occasional outting for beer with STRANGERS FROM THE INTERNET! I will be DRINKING ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES! with STRANGERS! from the INTERNETS! (Blame Drew if I turn up dead! Thank you! That is all!)

Now it appears I will be also working. And not because my boss is making me work, oh no! Because I am making myself work. What the hell? Who am I? How did I get here? What did I do with me?

Very Important PS! The Birthday Girl Vegas-stravaganza will be Halloween weekend the first weekend in December. Come on, strangers from the internet! LET'S GO DRINK ALCOHOL TOGETHER!

1. Call each other "asshole".

2. Exclaim that "that's my purse!" and claim that "I don't know you!"

3. Refer to everyone by your new favorite Swedish words, "slumpa" (slut) and "hora" (whore)*

4. Say, "Don't make me mess your face up!"

5. Anytime someone asks you a question, yawn dramatically.

PS. Typing "yawn" makes me yawn. Yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn... Yup. Works every time.

* Don't blame me if these words are spelled wrong. I only know how to swear in Swedish. Not spell.

I just got significantly richer today... Which considering the current state of my checking account, is not that rich, but hey! You want to give me 10% of my annual pay for no reason? YAY FOR ME!

Unfortunately, my boss had the presence of mind to invest it in one of those thingys where you CAN'T TOUCH IT. Apparently, he wants me to plan for my future... Who plans for their future? What's up with that crap? I have ridiculously expensive eyeshadow to purchase! And tickets to foreign countries to buy! And wads of money to wave in front of my friends while going "MUAHAHAHA! I AM RICH!"

He is completely ruining my fun.

1. Forced me to call our Swedish engineer's brother "Inga".

2. Got Peter, Paul, & Mary's "If I Had a Hammer" stuck in my head.
   I would hammer in the morning, hammer in the evening, hammer all over this land!
   
3. Refuse to share my enthusiasm for tonight's premiere of America's Next Top Model.
   

Me: (Reacting to interview on Office Mandated XM Watercolors radio station.) My gawd! How many times can that guy say "song" in one sentence?

Twelve: One billion?

Me: And this song is my favorite song because this song is the songiest song ever.

Twelve: And when I wrote this song, I was thinking about the other song which I wrote when I was songing another song about songs.

... Continue for 10 minutes.

And in other news:
The normal, leisurely, 6 minute walk from the :scm: to the offices of Big Bootie Ho now takes 25 gimpy minutes. TWENTY FIVE!!! Bah! It is irritatingly slow!

Today in the mail at Big Bootie Ho, I received a medium sized parcel from a potentially suspicious sender... So I, understandably, guessed that it contained either a mail bomb or anthrax.

Or maybe just a box of chocolate covered danger!* Spooky!

* Technically only dangerous to almond-allergic-coworkers, but still! DANGER!

Me: "I like coffee!"

Engineer: "Me too! But it makes certain bodily fluids taste funny."

Me: "Not if you eat enough parsley!"

Engineer: "Or pineapple. Or oranges."

Me: "Or anything in the berry family."

Engineer: "Why are we talking about this?"

Me: "Because we're spunky."

Yes, that's right. It was EIGHTEEN DEGREES in Seattle this morning.

What a perfect day for a four hour site meeting at a house WITH NO WALLS.

Things I need to do before I get any crazy ideas about going outside when it is ridiculously cold:

1. Wear socks made of something other than what is apparently a thin layer of saran wrap.
   
2. Wear shoes that cover more than 40% of my feet.
   
3. Bring pens with anti-freeze ink.
   
4. Get over fear of being seen in public with my fuzzy possum earmuffs.
   
5. Build some freakin' walls!

Tomorrow is my last day in the office, so I've got to set up my out-of-office email response. So far, I've come up with the following:

"Shove it.
Signed, Jennifer"

OR

"Ha ha! You are working! I am not working!
Signed, Jennifer"

This morning I got up at 2:30am NZ time and went to work... Sure, I just got back home at 6:30 last night, but PFT! I am Superman! Jet lag doesn't affect me! I AM SUPER!

And then I put my head down on my desk for a minute and fell asleep.

Contractor: Hello?

Me: Hey... Did you miss me?

Contractor: Um... Yes?

Me: You don't know who this is, do you?

Contractor: Uh... Jessica?

Me: WHO THE FUCK IS JESSICA?!?!

Contractor: Jennifer!!

Me: Oh, now you remember, you bastard.

We have an important political figure in the office today, which means that I had to do things like brush my hair and wear pants. And I think I will be expected to do something like behave.

And considering that I've been extra ornery and/or punchy since I got back from vacation, this is going to be very very very hard.

Ornery Behavior:

1. Instructed our new temp to greet Important Political Figures with, "Whatcha gon' do wit all dat junk, all dat junk inside yo' trunk."

2. Claim that structural details "don't just fall out of my ass".

3. Request "republican casual" dress for meeting later this week.

4. Threatened to stab people that won't read the stupid plans or email me their stupid RFI's.

5. Yelled things in a really bad southern accent, like "Git off mah lawn!"
   

It took all my self-control, but this morning I refrained from opening an email in my bosses inbox with the subject line: "Your Mom".

My self-control! It is amazingly self-controlly! Are you jealous?!?

Also, for some reason, I referred to myself as "oldish" today. (You know, kinda old, but not ooooold.) To which my co-workers replied, "Oh yeah. You're so old. Pft." Which of course was the whole point of calling myself old.

SCORE ONE FOR THE MANIPULATOR!

And now for some threats, issued today!

1. "Whoop dat trick."

2. "I wish I could punch you through the phone."

3. "Cry, you big girl! Cry!"

• "Phil Collins. He's so hot right now."

• "The name of my Bananarama tribute band? Bananananananarama."

• "Did you drop it like it's hot?"

• "Bring your own meat."

• "Christian mortgages?! I LOVE Christian mortgages!"
  "Do you want to kiss them?"
  "And hug them!"
  "And make sweet sweet love to them?"
  

I just used the word "cartouche" in a sentence... I FEEL LIKE A DOUCHE!

The new guy in the offices of Big Bootie Ho said that the new door knocker looks like a scrotum... Now I can't ever look at it the same way! My mind has been soiled!

On the other hand, I can now greet it every morning like this: "Good morning, scrotum!" And who among us doesn't want to say that?

Twelve: I'm so tired!

Not Twelve: Why are you so tired?

Me: He was up all night partying.

Not Twelve: Did you say he was up all night crying?

Me: No I said "partying".

Twelve: ... And crying.

Me: "The party is over! I'm so sad!"

Twelve: "I have no one to talk to! Wah!"

Me: "My friends! They are gone!"

Twelve: "Bwaaaah!"

The offices of Big Bootie Ho had a little Beer Friday office party today... And this time I managed not to get all drunk and dance on anything. And not once did I call myself "The Shrimp Pimp"... It's like I'm all growed up!

I did, however, instigate a vote on what kind of puppy my boss and his partner should get (PURSE DOG!), named my co-workers future children (Brittney-Courtney-Whitney for a girl and Cameron-Cody-Kendall* for a boy), and may have told my boss to wear a notepad around his neck (You know, to remind him to do things like "Go poop").

Also, even though I spent the entire 4 hours in the shade, I THINK I GOT A FARMER'S TAN. Bah!

* You may remember this from such times as Cletus

The Inside Joke T-shirt.

WE'RE BRILLIANT!

Not that you need any more proof than the fact that we routinely play rochambeau (with beer!) in the office, but:

Proof

• "Heh heh. You said 'backstage action'!"

• "Heh heh. You said 'in-box'!"

• "Hey, Susan. What's a va-jay-jay?"

• "Heh heh. You said 'va-jay-jay'!"

• "I'm checking out poptarts.com... Don't tell anybody!"

• "So's your face!"

• "You're mean... I'm telling."

• "Needs more Lana"

• "Huzzah!"

• "What is this? Junior high?" (Answer: Yes.)

The offices of Big Bootie Ho is now holding a contest to see who breaks first when forced to listen to "London Bridge" on repeat ALL DAY LONG.

I'M TOTALLY GOING TO WIN! ... Because this song NEVER STOPS BEING FUNNY!

Last night, the offices of Big Bootie Ho got really drunk and went bowling.

Now, I'm not going to name any names or anything but there are pictures of someone humping a pole. And maybe more of someone else sliding down the alley, still attached to the bowling ball. And quite of few of me looking completely loaded.

I think a few people used their moobs to distract the competition, too. And, if I remember correctly, I may have gone around calling someone "Sexy Melon" all night long. (We're so boobcentric!)

... Totally the least embarrassing office party I've ever been drunk at.

Me: (Monday, January 29, 2007 12:15pm) "Can someone come over here and hold my box?"

Now it's your turn...

Apparently, getting a big old bruise in the middle of your ass renders you unable to type... Typing is hard! And it hurts my butt! ... Or something.

And for your amusement, 10 things said today in the Office of Big Bootie Ho!

1. "Quit molesting me with your mind!"

2. "When I think of Bonnie Raitt, I think...whore."

3. "Fellatio."

4. "You can forget about those cinnamon red-hots, buster!"

5. (Male coworker): "Twelve said that he wants to sleep with me!"
   "I did not!"
   "Did so!"
   "Did not!"

6. "Fat brown."

7. "I hate you!"

8. "WHY DO YOU KEEP THINKING I'M A LESBIAN!?"

9. "No, you're a towel!"

10. "I'm so not going to want to sleep with you now."

Today, I turned my co-workers on to the magic that is Honky Tonk Badonkadonk. (They had never heard it! CAN YOU IMAGINE?!?)

How will they ever be able to repay me?

(I'm hoping *cash*.)

I wonder if my next employer will be OK with me sitting at my desk wearing a hard hat backwards, and then singing, "whip it"... Or if they will frown upon my insinuating that my coworkers method of foreplay involves a hazmat suit and the phrase, "I'm here to abate your asbestos, Mrs. Twelve".

Hmm... I'm suddenly losing confidence in my employability.

I have my first interview tomorrow with a firm that draws pretty, pretty lines.

For some reason*, I've laid out my tallest heels to wear to the interview... Maybe I am planning on intimidating them with SIX FULL FEET OF JENNIFER! Or maybe, since it's an All Boy firm, I'm planning on dazzling them with my big GIRLY shoes and PINK laptop bag, because obviously they are in dire need of someone who wears glitter in their hair sometimes.

Obviously.

(* That reason being - They're the only shoes that go with my cutest pants! With the dangerously wide legs! For me to trip on! ... Perfect for interviews!)

I just accepted an offer! I HAVE A JOB! ... That starts the day after Big Bootie Ho closes... So, I will spend zero days unemployed, lounging around coffee shops in my neighborhood in my pajamas...

Hmm. Why was I just jumping around in my living room with :turdface: screaming, "WOO HOO! WOO HOO! WOO HOO!"? ... Oh yeah, they offered me more money and twice as much vacation.

So that explains why there was dancing... Possibly the cabbage patch. OK, definitely the cabbage patch. And maybe the butt, with some, "Uh huh, that's right! It's my birthday." And I may also have hugged Turdy and said, "Now we don't need to live in a double wide!"

This is the last week of Big Bootie Ho, and instead of making boo boo faces at each other and sadly reciting every single inside joke, we have instead chosen to deal with it by:

• Concocting plans to get a client of ours out in the driveway so that we can run them over.

• Deciding that this sign needs to be over my new desk:
  

  
  

• Accusing Twelve of being a lesbian.

• Dramatically fake crying, "Bwah ha haaaaaa. Waaaaah! Hoo hoo hooo! Waaaah!", when my boss left the office today for Prague... Note: Boss not convinced this is genuine. I can't imagine why.
  

Yesterday, I got paid to walk around Roslyn going, "OH MY GOD, HOW CUTE!"

I also sat in Twelve's car for four hours laughing my face off... And, dammit - If my new job doesn't come with Faux-Twelve, I'm going to cry; because my soul will slowly die if no one else will "paint the fence" with me on company time.

PS. First post-Big Bootie Ho day included:

1. Brunch with view of Chef Kissyface. (Note: Ability to keep face from scrunching up when he talks to me: ZERO!) (Does that sentence make any sense?) (Oh, whatever!) (*Scrunch*)

2. Going into the office for an hour! ... For... work. Yeah, I don't know either.

3. Baby's First Pedicure. (OH MY GOD, that tickles!)

4. Drinking!

It's the first day at the New Job this morning. Where I will continue to draw Very Important Lines, except crooked. And for richer people. And for more money, and twice as much vacation time... And aaahhh! Nervous!

I have to catch a bus now. And I cannot wear pajamas to work anymore! I cannot roll on in a half hour late! I cannot scream at my coworkers to "show me [their] boobs!" or tell stories about that one time when my boss got all drunk and made monkey noises at that bar*. I cannot sing stupid songs about home improvement as metaphor for love. I cannot do ANYTHING FUN!**

This had better not suck.

* HE TOTALLY DID! Complete with bouncing around and scratching his armpits! Everyone should have a story about their boss like this! IT'S FANTASTIC!

** Although it should be noted that I will be within walking distance of Ovaltine lattes. Which, HELLO! I am all over.

1. Either the lighting in the bathroom is HORRIBLE or the lighting everywhere else in Seattle is really flattering. Either way, oh my god, somebody install a sconce or something!

2. I think the employees here are all working 7 hour days... WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?

3. It just might be impossible to eat lunch in Belltown for less than $20. And why is no sushi place open for lunch? Also - "Noodle Ranch". HA HA! A ranch for noodles. That makes me laugh so hard.

4. THERE IS AN ESPRESSO MACHINE IN MY OFFICE! ... OMG!

5. My commute used to be a leisurely 6 minute walk. It now involves 15 minutes of sitting, and reading, and drinking coffee... Which sounds FANTASTIC, except for the part where stinky people sit behind me. Stinking.

My new desk in my new (floor to ceiling glass) office is at street level... I have never seen so many dogs peeing before in my whole life. All day long, it's pee, pee, pee!

Thankfully, no hobos were seen peeing out there. But I don't hold out much hope for this to continue. (Belltown is where Seattle keeps it's hobos.) (Also it's Subways... For real, Belltown, why do you need one on every block?)

I went out to lunch with my Big Bootie Ho alumnus earlier this week, which made me realize I MISS THESE PEOPLE! Hard!

Also, apparently one of them has a client who is REALLY LOUD, and walks into their office and says, "GOOD MORNING, FUCKERS!" and then visits every single employee and goes, "WHAT ARE YOU UP TO, ASSHOLE?" or "HOW'S IT GOIN', YOU SON OF A BITCH?"

So. Jealous.

PS. I signed a confidentiality agreement with my new workplace! We had better not get any interesting clients, or I WILL EXPLODE.

My desk at my new office sits in front of floor-to-ceiling windows... There's so much natural light in here, I think I'm getting a farmer's tan right now!

It's real nice and all, but... people sure are interested in staring in the windows! I feel like I'm on display... I'm half tempted to hang a sign in the window that says, "Do Not Feed The Monkey".

PS. The old ladies in this neighborhood are KICK ASS. There's one that pops out of the condo building across the street every morning, with her big bouffant baby pink hair, and her tiny purse dog, and her skinny black pants, and her Jackie O. sunglasses and I sort of think that she is my IDOL.

A couple is fighting right outside my window right now! ... And it's going a little something like this:

"... MY WHOLE LIFE!"

"Your whole life? MY whole life!"

"No! MY whole life!"

"No! Mine!

Wow. I really DO like working at street level.

This weekend, the sprinkler system in the fishbowl EXPLODED! And now the break room smells like a wet dog... And spaghetti. (Yummy!*) And the girl's bathroom looks like this:

It's like peeing in a wind tunnel! ... Don't I feel like an astronaut.

* Blech! This word makes me want to barf.

Oh wait. That's not a news flash at all, since I work with the biggest drama queens ever... I am not even kidding - There is crying in the office! And screeching about how those girls are SO MEAN. And why did they dis-invite her to the party? Whine! Whine! Whine! Me! Me! Me! And WAH! SO MEAN!

God. It's so professional here, I can't even stand it.

Now if somebody could please come over here with some bourbon, or a very sharp fork to stab through my hand, I would be very obliged.