2004-04-14 - 10:39 p.m.

I do have one thing to say, actually. You know I love my job, crazy as it may be. What I don't love is my office. Due to the nature of the business, they like to keep it young, and, uh, "real" And I have written before about all the little drains in the payroll, kids who are interns for 6 months and then get some made-up job that consists mostly of being hip, complete with an inane title and $20K a year. But they don't care. They spend $15 of the $20 on designer bags and two-way-walkie-talkie-cell-phone-pager combos and jewelry. Because they're not doing it for the money. They're doing it for the image.

This is insane to me. First off, the title bullshit. I always say call me peon, baby, just pay me the cash. But the thing that is driving me batshit is that all these kids bring in their friends, or the girls they met at the club last night, and they leave the office with BAGS of free shit, and stick they're heads in my office and say, "I need a pen, do you have one?" I want to say, "You need a PEN? Who the fuck ARE you, exactly?" I am trying to WORK. Bad enough I have to sit in a sweatbox of an office with blasting music and a printer that never has toner, now I have to stop and give some rude little punk my office supplies? I think not.

Even the cleaning people bring their friends. And today, today - I got out my matches and prepared the open the most excellent candle I have ever had, It@lian Wedding C@ke, that I got from the most fabulous Becky, so good that people from all over the office came down and smelled it. And it was gone. Some motherfucker stole my CANDLE. And he better hope I never find out who he (or she)is. Someone also stole our toothpaste and my hair cream. WTF? So now I lock the office door. Bastards.

So I am leaving for It@ly next week, and as usual I am unable to enjoy the anticipation of it. Also only a little over a month until the wedding. Did I talk about the wedding? I'm too lazy to go look back, so if you've already heard this move along.

A few weeks ago I had the florist come to my office to show me some ideas for the flowers. You know, I'm not into all this shit. I want it to be nice, but I want the people who know about that stuff to tell me what to do. I'm pretty laid back, as long as it looks good I'll be happy. So Deb came out to look at them, and gave me some input, and then she said, "Do you have colors for your wedding?" "Colors? No." And she laughed, "Of course you don't."

Later on she called me from her office. "I know this is a stupid question, but are you registered anywhere?" "Registered? No." "Of course not. Your customers are calling me, and they want to know where you're registered, what am I supposed to tell them?" "I don't know." So now she calls me the anti-bride.

And I have to laugh, because it's true. The boyfriend has taken care of all the details of this wedding, after we chose the place and the chapel - he's been amazing. He also took care of getting some sort of music for the chapel, from the local philh@rmonic. So people ask me what kind of musicians they are, and what they'll play, and I have to say, "I don't know. You'll have to ask the boyfriend." Heh. The anti-bride. I'm not anti-bride, man, I'm anti-wedding-planning.

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