Movin' On...Over

Last week was so exciting. I got my own office. It's not the privilege I make it out to be. An office came open, and my boss said someone had to move. I pretended I was taking one for the team. I was thrilled. No more five people in one room; no more people talking to themselves; no more work lesbian looking over my shoulder. Nirvana. At long last I could take naps, talk on the phone, solicit auction items, surf the internet. Ladies and gentlemen (?), your tax dollars at work.

I've been in my new room now for six days. It's like hill-jack surround sound. On one side we have the receptionist. You know her from forwarded email fame. She planned our office Christmas party at the Louisville Live and asked us to pray when our co-worker's husband's neck blew up on him. Every ten seconds she says "Redneck County Schools, Can you hold?" Today she was making plans to meet her husband somewhere after work. After much deliberation, they decided on the "liberry."

On my other side, we have a secretary. I'm not sure what she does. She has plenty of time to go to the tanning bed. And to squeal. Today she was belting out this jaunty little tune: "Sometimes I funny. Sometimes I not." Sweetcheeks, let me clear it up for ya, you're not. Since I don't have any Ritalin on hand, I took her some Smarties. Tomorrow I'm taking in some Red Bull.

Please, as my friends, if you hear me answer the phone "This is her," do a grammar intervention. I'm so scared it will rub off.