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On Being an Assistant (The Pencident)

11 Apr

What to do when the boss-man isn’t the one making the demands?

***

“Penny, I need 50 copies.”

“Penny, my computer is frozen.”

“Penny, the printer is jammed and I am too lazy to open the paper drawer.”

***

What to do when the boss-man isn’t the one making the demands?

***

I smile.

I nod.

***

What to do when the boss-man isn’t the one making the demands?

***

Footsteps.

A presence, slinking down the hall.

I look up; he’s there, the one from two doors down.

***

What to do when the boss-man isn’t the one making the demands?

***

“Do you have a pen?”

“Yes… they are in that cup there.” In which you’ve already rooted.

With expectant silence, he waits.

“Oh, did you want this pen here that I have open on my notebook and was using? This pen?”

“Great.”

Do you have a PEN?

Previously, On being an assistant

On germ vultures, circling

12 Feb

Sit to begin the work day.

Sanitize.

Touch the keyboard, the mouse, the phone.

Sanitize.

No! Not that…

Pen.

Sanitize.

SMS vibrates to your attention: “BIL and I have the stomach flu.”

Sanitize.

Ping.

From: Boss

To: Penny

Subject: “Out sick today”.

Panic.

Sanitize.

On Stupid Human Tricks

18 Jan

Work, Pinterest, work

Work, pretend to work, Facebook, send some emails

Apartment hunt, furniture shop, dream

Chat with Polly

Chat with Circe

Thank goodness those two slackers finally got into work at the time normal humans get to work

Chat with Polly, chat with Circe, chat some more…

***

OHMYGOD

What?

I LEFT THE SNACKS FOR THIS WEEKEND CLOSE ENOUGH TO THE FLOOR THAT THE DOG COULD DEFINITELY SMELL AND MAYBE GET INTO THEM

Okkkkkay?

THERE IS A SEVERAL OUNCE BLOCK OF DARK CHOCOLATE IN THAT BAG

***

Driving

More driving

HOW is there an accident in the middle of the day?!

Driving

***

HIIIIIIIIIIIIII hi hi hi hi why are you home hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii I have to pee

Oh thank god oh thank god oh thank god she doesn’t look dead

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii let me trip you up the stairs and run straight to the yummy smells and is THIS why you’re home in the middle of the day?

Downton Abbey US Season Premiere, An Acrostic Review

7 Jan

Penny and Circe’s reaction (via text) to the US premiere of Downton Abbey, series 3, can be summed up in the following three bullets:

  • OMFG MATTHEW. So hot.
  • OMFG BRANSON. So hot.
  • Fuck Bates. I wish he’d been hanged by the neck until dead.

Or, at least, that’s their iMessage history.

Oh, also…

  • WHAT are they all WEARING? That is the WORST wedding dress EVER. Perhaps our troubles finding things to wear to this upcoming alumni event can be laid squarely at Downton’s double doors. Sacks. Shapeless sacks. All of it.

And now for the morning after…

Penny:  Honestly? My first reaction is “Damn. The How I Met Your Mother Christmas episode has ruined me for all other television this year”.

Circe: I mean it obviously wasn’t on par with that episode, but I was still pleased.

"You won't be happy with anyone else so long as Lady Mary walks the earth."

A bromance of which we wholeheartedly approve.

Downsizing looks to be the name of the game in the face
Of financial ruin
When Matthew fortuitously learns of an unexpected inheritance,
Not, mind you, that his middle class scruples would allow him to accept
The money that could save Downton.
Oh, don’t be such a disappointment, Matthew.”
No one cared that much about Lavinia, anyway.

Although Shirley MacLaine is a welcome foil,
Bedeviling the Dowager Countess,
Branson (Excuse me, Tom) steals the show as outsider du jour; he
Embodies his proletarian convictions much more believably than the
Yapping, brash, mannerless American outsider who spouts off endlessly with visions of progress grand enough to match her disdain for tradition.

Speaking of Branson, there’s a budding bromance of which we wholeheartedly approve. And is
3 soon to be the number of brothers-in-law?

Even downstairs, the push for progress is felt as Thomas terrorizes the new staff and Daisy sulks at her continued non-status.
1 is the number of shits we give about Bates… plus 1

Commissary Blues

13 Dec

To the tune of Elvis Presley’s It’s Now or Never

I think I’m dying,
It’s half past noon.
My eyes are closing,
Lunch best come soon.
I care not how much I weigh.
I’m far too tired
To diet today.

There’s always salad,
But I refuse.
That wilted spinach
Gives me the blues.
Those olives smell wrong.
Who can tell how long
They’ve sat to ferment
And unleash that scent I breathe.

The sandwich station
Makes me depressed.
The whole-grain pitas
Are gross at best.
Pile those fries
Right on my tray.
I’m far too tired
To diet today.

One gooey cookie
Might be what I need.
It’s not my stomach
But my soul I feed.
Chocolate excites me
Oh Snickers, delight me.
I need to taste
Some candy in haste right now.

I think I’m dying,
It’s half past noon.
My eyes are closing,
Lunch best come soon.
I care not how much I weigh.
I’m far too tired
To diet today.

Le Endless Monday

10 Dec

Un poème tres terrible de Les Raisons.

I am Le Tired.
 
Le Nauseated while also being
Le Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar.
 
It is le grey and le foggy and le rainy.
 
Work drags with Le Ennui except when
Les Enfants bother me with their
“Vite! Vite!”
“This must be done immédiatement!”
 
Le world will not end, insist I.
 
“FIRE ZE MISSILES!”
 
But I am le tired.
 

That Damn Zombie is Feasting Again

19 Oct

Anytime a guest comes to my apartment for the first time, I kindly request that she or he add a piece of zombie poetry to my fridge. Below is the in-progress epic poem that has been developing on my refrigerator since June. As adjective and suffix options grew sparse, things necessarily became a bit more abstract.

the undead wander mindless-ly and we know the apocalypse is here
this planet is dark and rotten
they come for our flesh with unstoppable hunger
I stumble through a dead soulless world

flesh eating Chase* plagued my confused head
that damn zombie is feasting again

I like to use a shotgun to kill a zombie
it-s about headshot

you groan
must eat skull blood
taste-y

shatter-ed cadaver
brain everywhere

outrun vicious pale thing
no more madness

stiff fire bone
destroy mindless human creature

grotesque horrors chew skin

you almost escape but

like her corpse outliving him
wretched evil has come as always

*Proper noun implied. All zombie magnetic poetry words are lowercase (save “I”).

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