It is what it is - A. poem

the darkness knows no bounds

i am...
alone, without torment

my shot-gunned stapler mocks me,

"i am...

still here, why is that?"

i am...

working

the silence is maddening

i may not survive

no poking, no punching, no flicking

no sideswiped descent into drywall

no bruising of the old

how will i pee without counsel?

... or critique?

the ants are marching and so is A.

"flip-flop, flip-flop," her ginormous flippers cry

while chocolate waits, forewarned of the pending onslaught

delicious... 

yet targeted

plentiful? 

false!

the world holds its breath, markets quake

an industry's demise? an end of an era?

refresh your feed!

A. in PA

i am...

working

The small print: A. left work early on Friday to go to a Dave Matthew's concert in Pennsylvania and then spend the weekend. On Saturday, she was going to the Hershey factory. A. loves chocolate -- there may not be any left by the time she leaves. I, however, stayed behind and worked. I actually (kinda) missed her.

A. clue! Yes, for you!

For a moment today, A. was discomboobled. It was sweet to watch. A. was a certified, benefit-eligible Clue Impaired individual -- in front of her boss. And once A. "got" whatever it was we were all talking about, her boss accurately pointed out that rather than a light bulb going off over A.'s head, it was more like a bug zapper. Awesome! Maybe everyone at work is finally "getting it."

Let's just clear the air, shall we?

Me! has graciously issued a number of posts and I only have but one so far. Granted, my post was extremely pertinent to the topic(s) at hand, and it served as a great cursory introduction to my overall stance on things, but I find it insufficient concerning the blog in its entirety. And, please do forgive me for my infrequent posts up until now. Many of my actions require a certain element of surprise and suspence; so, you see, I can't very well post what I'm about to do and risk the likely event that Me! will see beforehand and have time to either thwart my efforts, plan a counter-strike, or both.

I echo Me!'s sentiments. She is one of my most favorite people in the whole entire world, too, which is probably why I focus such a large percentage of my efforts on tormenting her. But, in all seriousness and sincerity, I admire Me! very much and consider her to be a great friend. That being said, it's only right that I harass her as much as I do, right??? Sure, she's nearly 20 years my senior, but age truly does know no boundaries. Even though she roamed the Earth right around the time the dinosaurs did, I love her just the same as I would someone of my own time.

I'd go into greater detail defending my alleged actions displayed on previous posts, but I prefer to remain on the offense. However, I will say this: though Me! plays the victim quite well, she brings much of my antics upon herself. And, consider yourself forewarned, Me!: poking fun and criticizing my recent bout with your stapler? Not a wise choice, my friend, not wise, indeed!

Stapler remover

A. kidnapped my stapler and held it for ransom. The payoff seemed pretty reasonable -- "you must buy me 7 ice cream cones" -- but it was the principle of the thing. I don't negotiate with terrorists.

At first blush, ingenious. At second blush, I'm disappointed. This sad, transparent attempt for attention falls far short of the expected. First of all, the sadistic kidnapping of a stapler is in no way "new" (see also, "Excuse me, I think you have my stapler," "Help, my stapler has been kidnapped," and "Buy me lunch or the stapler gets it.")

Second of all, who the hell signs a ransom note with their actual name? That just puts CSI workers out of business. Maybe A. should have just waited there with my stapler in her hands so there could be no doubt at who's feet to lay blame. Oh, wait, that's right -- A. signed the note. Ok, one point for solid time management.

Finally, A. never actually removed the stapler from my office; just put it in a bottom drawer of my desk. That's not forward thinking by anyone's standard. Where were the pictures of the stapler tied up or, worst yet, being surrounded and taunted by a team of Crazy Glue, Binder Clip and Post-It Note thugs? Where were the follow-up phone calls demanding the requested booty? I never once had to look into how to tap my phone. And why didn't A. send me individual staples, one at a time, over the course of a week, as if to say, here's an ear, here's a finger, here's an eye... WHERE ARE MY GODDAMN 7 ICE CREAM CONES?

No, no A. Is it possible you're slipping? Perhaps I overestimated you. Is that really all you got?

Lunch with A. and A.'s mom

ME! (to A.'s mom): So, tell me. What was A. like as a child?

A.: Oh, so this is how it's going to go.

Tabled manners

Today A. forked, spooned and Splenda'd me... it's not as erotic as it might sound. The fact is, she threw a fork, then a spoon and then some Splenda packets at me during lunch. No, no, no -- there didn't need to be a reason. Lunch was over and it was just A.'s way of driving the point home. To that end, it's a good thing she didn't have a knife. In the free-form jazz assault genre, A. is freaking John Coltrane and she was merely vamping in the zone.

A. is in the building

Fact: A. does indeed know of the blog.

Fact: A. is awesome.

Myth: A. kicked Me!'s purse.

Myth: A. is evil towards Me!.

......and finally......

Fact: Me! is a baby.

A. knows about this blog

[whispering] A. knows about my blog. It's eerily quiet. She has not said -- or done -- anything. My husband is afraid for me. He says there will be retaliation of the most serious kind. I'm concerned this may be life-changing: No, not one where there is an epiphany involved. More like that a terrible-skiing-accident kinda life changing.

Counter threat

A. flicked me in the back. It stung a little. While being forced to lean on the cubicle counter due the weight of unfathomable despair, I asked my assistant (in front of A.) if she were good with a shovel provided the dirt were soft. Assistant informed me she was there to do whatever I asked, which gave me hope. A. advised me I should start sleeping with one eye open. Immediately lost hope, contemplated actual ability to sleep with eye open, and determined I may need a home security system. 

A. kicked me

A. kicked me. Really, she kicked my purse - while I was carrying it. I don't remember what we were talking about, but I'm sure it was just to emphasize a point.

Breaking news

Set up iphone to post directly to blog for breaking news. Anticipating it will be worth it when A.'s pounding on my bathroom stall door.

This is A.

This is A. She is funny, beautiful and highly intelligent. She also is 18 years younger than me -- a fact she reminds me of in some form or another at least once every other day ("Let me get the door, what with your bones being brittle and all"). I'm okay with that reminder - the theory being that my vast experience honed over the years places me in a superior position. Yes, that would be the theory.

A. is one of my most favorite people in the world. I know she loves me, too. Sometimes, the way she shows love is akin to the way my brothers used to show they loved me by hanging me upside down by my feet, poking me in the ribs, and tickling me until I hurled. It's that same sweet, sweet family love that has forced many a good person to spend thousands of dollars for therapy and screwed up their sense of self worth for the rest of their lives. That's what A. and I share, along with a love of animals, a good intellectual fight, and gallons and gallons of coffee. It truly is awesome!

New beginning

A. and I started a new job today at the same company. Before this job transition, A. was employed by me in my small business and, before that, interned for me. A. and I have known each other for years and our torturer/torturee relationship hasn't changed much. Despite this fact, when I was offered this new position, I demanded (respectfully requested) they find a job for A., too. Now we work as colleagues. Nothing really has changed - we still have the same relationship we had when I was A.'s boss. In honor of our new beginning, I started this blog to chronicle our times together. I hope these postings will offer insight into the stark reality of my working with A.