Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Working for the Weekend (and By Weekend, I Mean Man)

(From 1.18.06)

Sweet lord Jesus Christ am I bored.

I am so bored, that I'm blogging.

I don't even now what blogging is, but I'm so effing bored right now that I'm doing it anyway.

So far today, my "job" has consisted of spraying my desk with disinfectant and wiping it compulsively, eating 2 bagels, attempting to dred my hair, thinking of words that rhyme with convulse, and attempting to give myself a nose job with my bare hands and some scotch tape.

My kinda hot boss is gone for the day, so I can't strut around the office trying to look busy, and all of my co-workers are doing real work and don't want to play with me.

The sad thing is, I used to be able to amuse myself for hours in an office with nothing to do. In fact, I used to love doing that!

I have the fondest memories of my father taking me to his office for take your daughter to work day. All day I would just run around, xerox copies of my face, eat the non dairy creamer, take some crayons and draw on his walls, help him yell at the cleaning lady, hide under his co-worker Brian's desk and see how long it took him to notice me. I was always so upset the next day when I had to go back to boring old high school.

Seems like a life time ago now...

Here at the architectural firm where I "manage", I have two bosses.

One is an absent minded professor type, the other is a scary, domineering, bossy pillar of hotness.

This second one has been making me do little research projects for him ever since he (tragically) realized I wasnt retarded.

This is bad, because I dont like to have to think at work.

I like to focus all my energy on surfing the Internet and doing crosswords. When I do think, I mostly like to think about how I kind of want to nail my boss.

Anywho, the latest project I was assigned was to research rocks.

I have to do this so they know what kind of rocks they want to use for some rich clients new guest beach house or whatever.
Researching rocks online made me remember learning about them in ninth grade earth science with Mr. Sepe.

Mr. Sepe was a nice, old man. He quickly realized that my ability to retain information about anything other than caloric content and shoes was negligible, so out of the goodness of his heart he let me dress up for grades.
Every Friday, he would let the class grade my outfit on a scale of A-F, and that would be my grade for the week.

I know this seems slightly drastic and inappropriate, but after the third quiz I handed in with little spiders and broken hearts and skulls where the answer were supposed to be, it wasnt really that tough a call to make.

The only time I ever got an A+ in science was for a Diesel mini dress with black, red, orange and yellow striations on it, which I wore when we were studying lava and metamorphic rocks.
I got tips on my nails and had them painted to match my dress, and did a nice three-layer eye shadow as a final touch. I looked like a big, crazy hippie transvestite, and Mr. Sepe applauded.

Id wear that dress to work in hopes of getting out of this project, but its a size 00. God damn, am I fat.

Ok, seriously. What the hell am I doing? I cannot be an "office manager" for another split second.

I need a REAL job! Something I can parlay into a career somehow.

My dads always telling me I need a plan. He says this is my own fault for being directionless... but the thing is, I really didnt expect to still be alive at this point. All of my previous "goals" were based on an 18 to 21 year life span. Through some horrific turn of events, however, I have yet to die tragically yet unsurprisingly in a freak accident involving a Mac truck, an aardvark and one hundred thousand dollars in cash.

So now, Im stuck. I dont know what to do with my life. The bitter irony is that I HAD the perfect job. I found a career that was tailor fucking made for my personality... but once the police got involved I was right back at square one again.

So... any thoughts, anyone? Ive pretty much narrowed down the fields.

I could be a writer...
as long as I never had to write about anything but myself.

I could be a cop...
then I would get to have a gun, which would be awesome.

I could be a bitter, crazy lawyer like mom and dad...
that would be nice cause I could be rich and bossy. Much more so than I am now.

I could be a teacher...
then I could yell at kids and we all know how I feel about doing that.

I could marry rich...
Id have to be a first wife though, no use getting to them after theyre done handing out the free nose jobs.

I could be a ballerina if I wasnt so damn fat.

I've been trying to think back to the job that made me the happiest... it's pretty much a toss up between getting high and sticking the Gummy Bears together in filthy sexual positions before putting them on top of children's ice cream, with Christina at Haagen Dazs, and shrink wrapping dildo's while discussing the works of Neitzche with Vantessa at the Rubber Tree. Neither one of those seems like a viable career.

So I try to think back to my original life goals. When I was a kid, all I wanted to be when I grew up was a vampire. I guess thats pretty much out of the question now though.

Or is it...