I want to assure my readers that I am fully committed to the blogging process and that soon, very soon, I will be back on a regular basis. Sometimes, good things have to go away for awhile in order to return even better. At least that’s what my dad told my mom. Just kidding. But seriously, absence makes the heart grow fonder, yada yada. If sexy hadn’t left, JT wouldn’t have been able to bring it back.
I’ve found an apartment in Dumbo only a few blocks from my office and I’m moving in next week. In the interim, I’m going on a bluegrass booze cruise and driving to Pennsylvania with my boss. It’s a five hour road trip. I’ll need Dramamine for both.
Boss and I haven’t been seeing eye to eye for weeks. He’s a micro-manager. Whenever I hear the word “micro-manager” I picture munchkins. They were creepy and autocratic, always directing by hanging on Dorothy’s sleeve. Try this lollipop! Parade this way! Email that PDF file!
This afternoon, while I was hunkered down attempting to save our summer camp in Ohio (out of a grand total of twelve enrolled students, one made guttural noises until age seven, and two turned out to be scammers from Nigeria), Boss paid a visit to my desk. He tugged at his lower lip like a hooked trout to show me the space where his tooth used to be. Then he produced a presecription pill bottle and shook it in rhythm to 60’s Soul Classics to get my attention. “Guess what? My tooth is in here!” This emphatic show-and-tell left me repulsed and curious. Why would you keep a years-old tooth in the office? And if you were proud of this tooth, wouldn’t you fashion a necklace and wear it to, say, Jimmy Buffet concerts? And what were these pills? Tugboat Todd from nextdoor had an insightful comment: “God, I hope he never gets a vasectomy.”
I want a job I can really sink my adult chops into and here I am teething on a whiskey rag. That rag must be dipped in Powers.