2005-05-04, 2:52 p.m.
1. I am my own administrative assistant. The woman I work for is beautiful, brilliant, dynamic, inspiring, irreverent and fucking funny. She is demanding and hard-working, and expects nothing less than the same from me. She would not be able to function without me. By handling her paperwork, filing, and administrative functions, I am her rock. She could never replace me.
2. Every task I have to accomplish is the last one I have to do before I am all caught up on every single thing on my desk. After this one last task, I will be able to take a week off and nothing will sit and ferment on my desk, while I sit and ferment on a beach. I will start over afresh and anew when I return from my vacation.
3. I am extremely successful and highly sought after as a valued partner in all things affordable housing. Therefore, I am able to pick and choose what calls I will take. I donít take many. Please leave a message.
4. My last day on the job is the last day of this month, and I wish to leave behind a legacy of finished tasks, organization, and a closely followed business plan.
5. I am being called into an important meeting today in which I will SHINE, and therefore, I must dress professionally with ironed clothing and makeup. I am competent and knowledgeable, and my organization is an example of success and social impact. Everyone in the room either wishes they were me, or wishes they could sleep with me.
6. The Powers That Be have installed spywear on the server, and any net surfing I do during the day will be intercepted, and I will be terminated for wasting time at work. Damn you, Big Brother! Damn yoooouuuuu!
7. I love my job and the field I work in. My office is my haven, and I am only truly happy and fulfilled while digging into any variety of affordable housing challenges and opportunities. My serenity candle is lit, NPR chatters softly in the background, and the sun shines in through my French doors.
8. I am a very cranky and intolerant receptionist. I am outraged when telemarketers call the office, and I am equally intolerant of Ford Credit Company calling my co-workers to offer them exciting opportunities for refinance. I am rude - a snippy little bitch. People hate and fear me. I screen calls with a vengeance.
9. I have been diagnosed with an addiction to screwing around and wasting time on the internet. One more lapse during work hours will give my sponsors cause for an intervention, and I will be whisked off to rehab. I have to accomplish 20 tasks per hour for the first four hours of work, and spend 4 hours working on large projects each day. I tow the line.
10. I am 10 pounds short of reaching my goal of 100 pounds weight loss. All I have left to lose is the last 10 pounds, along with toning up the results. My eating restrictions have loosened up considerably. Iím in the home stretch - just 90 days to go before I reach the maintenance phase. I am proud of my body and am so motivated to see this awesome accomplish through to fruition. Everyone either wishes they were me, or wishes they could sleep with me.
A Petty Quandry
I received a gift certificate for a massage last year for my birthday at my SURPRISE! birthday party. It is still magneted to the refrigerator. If it were for a pedicure, I would have blown through that bad boy in about a week. In fact, we blew through the bowling gift certificate the very next weekend. But Iíve never had a massage before. The thought of it makes me a little uncomfortable. OK, a LOT uncomfortable.
I wonder if I can trade it in at the salon for a pedicure, or maybe just a good neck massage. Or a back scratch. Wouldnít that be heavenly if there were back scratching services offered at salons while somebody massaged your hands or pedicured your feet? But I am just leery of the full-on massage.
What if they want to massage my BUTTOCKS?
What if it feels so good that I moan and make a lot of noise like Monica did when Phoebe gave her a massage?
What if causes me to slide down a slippery slope of NEEDING a massage every week or so? What if I enjoy it so much that I canít live without it?
Itís been sitting there since last August, and although it doesnít have an expiration date, Iím afraid prices will go up and my $35 gift certificate will be rendered worthless if I donít use it soon. I canít decide whether to try to barter for a pedicure, or just bite the proverbial bullet and get the massage. Maybe all those other massage-getters know something I donít.
Thatís not a bad quandary, is it? I mean, as quandaries go, the free massage vs. free pedicure quandary is about as good as they get.
You either want to be me, or you want to sleep with me. If you were me, you could do both at the same time.
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