RIP Mr. Orange Cluster Head. That’s what our boss named the discount gimp goldfish. He was thrown in the East River (the fish, not our boss) and popular office theory holds that Mr. Orange Cluster Head wasn’t really dead, that he’s revived on brackish water, biding his time in a tire, and getting preternaturally stronger.
I’ve been watching a lot of The Office. I still haven’t bought a new power cord so I can’t blog from home. But I can microwave Amy’s Organic Frozen Dinners and compare my day job to television. For example, yesterday, after an emotionally taxing morning and a little bathroom cry–which Boss asked about in a sympathetic yet intrusive manner–I returned to find this Michael Scott-ish note on my keyboard:
I wasn’t convinced that I needed to do this, really, until the fifth exclaimation mark. Check out that handwriting. It immediately reminded me of the Lindbergh baby ransom note.
And what a word, message. Mess + age. As in: I’ve made a mess of. Yes, please clear it!
I’m turning 30 in 64 days. I’m making a concerted effort to blog everyday until my birthday. I’ve been busy lately, you know, clearing messages, and haven’t devoted enough energy to my project. Also, befriending Steve Gutenberg felt like the culmination of something. The end. Like Buffy Season 7. Where do we go from here? Well, Buffy Season 8 just came out in comic book form. If you’re still following this confusing media analogy you might guess the point. There’s a big world out there, and it needs my blog.
So keep sending your friends to my site.