Sorry for not posting

Sorry devoted readers.

I got a promotion at work, but before you start planning a parade and gift bags, it is not in fact going to further my career in movies or television. Well, not directly.

Let me explain.

The company I work for struck a great deal to the be the exclusive U.S. distributors of a high end clothing line coming out of Europe. Its all very good stuff. We run the website, handle the money and deliver the products.

Well, my boss was handling all of the customer service complains and questions. Until, he decides to stop. And about two weeks go by and he offers me the job. "You want more money right? Here's more responsibility."

Ok, so I got to work. I was something like 200 emails in the hole, getting the job. I had to slowly crawl my way out of it by apologizing and trying to help people.

So, about a week deep, I email my boss on a Saturday, in the middle of replying to emails. That's right, I was working on the weekend to get a hold of the situation. My email thanked him for the opportunity but I don't want the responsibility, we need to figure out another system. He replied telling me to keep at it, it will get easier, we can talk about this on Monday.

On Monday, I tell him I don't want to do it and I basically get an ultimatum. "do it, or I will find someone who can both jobs."

So, all this means that I am still working at it and that's why I haven't had any time to update. Because of a promotion, that doesn't help me. I get to keep my job in the business but the added responsibility has nothing to do with furthering my career as a writer in the business. But damn, can I write a bitching apology email with a helpful suggestion of which product to buy. (Like that is going to be helpful.)

I am looking at this as if it is all a test. I will master this and move on. However, I have yet to see a raise in my paycheck as of today, so that needs to be addressed soon, or else I am going to go on strike and shut this bitch down.

Labor Day Weekend

So, this labor day weekend I did lots. Went up to Michigan to celebrate cousin Colton's Eight birthday. We had a cookout and cheesecake with a good portion of the family. Colton and I even found time to make the little video below. I was camera man, for the most part and Colton was the director and star. He can really act. If you look closely, I am smiling because I thought we were going to have parents running outside when he started to do his crying thing. I was actually convinced that I had died.



And so we finished the weekend off by picking pears out of a pear tree so we could can them. Everyone got involved. Colton in the tree throwing them down to us, Cadin on the truck, picking pears from the lower branches.

Every Friday Afternoon

It seems that every Friday, (and by "every" I mean the last two) someone has called me and yelled at me. And I am going to be completely honest. I am losing my patience with this shit.

Last Friday:
Guy: Is Kimberly there?
Me: I'm sorry, she is gone for the day.
Guy: What? I have called three times today and have left messages and have not heard back. What am I suppose to do with this check? I mean, really? (Granted, he did call three times before this. And I took messages three times.)
Me: Well, what is the issue?
Guy: You have over paid us and I want to know what to do with the check.
Me: You have a check from us with an amount that is more then we owe?
Guy: Yes. And I need to deposit!
Me: Fine. Go deposit and write us a check for the difference.
Guy: I mean, that is just want we are going to have to do.
Me: Fine. Its no big deal.
Guy: Whatever.
Then he hangs up.
Two minutes later he calls me back and asks me to transfer him to Kimberly's cell phone. That shit wasn't going to happen so I transferred him to a manager. What a dick.

Today
Guy: Yeah. I talked to a guy about a "tyonic" order that was suppose to come by the end of the week, and it is Friday.
Me: I think you need to talk to the West coast office. They handle all orders.
Guy: No. I need to talk to the guy who works at this number. I have been talking to him.
Me: Do you mean "Kibble"?
Guy: Yeah. That's him.
Me: Well, he is out of the office right now but I can take your name and number and email it to him. then he can call you back.
Guy: Nevermind.
He hung up on me too.

What the fuck is with you douchey people calling my office and being dicks to me. Granted, I probably shouldn't use the tone I do, but if you didn't come out of the gate with attitude, you wouldn't get any from me.

Moral of the story: You get more flies with sugar then vinegar. And I hate people.

Hippie Motorcyclist

Really? With the tambourine on the handbar?
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The smell of new money

Today, I was mailing packages in the Haymarket Post Office and I have to describe the woman that came in. She was a little Asian lady. Hard to really tell which ethnicity due to her unnatural tan, botoxed face that was frozen with a look of surprise on it and her huge lips. She had streaky highlights that were held at bay by her porn star shades on her head, unfortunately because it allowed the world to see that face. She was driving a gold Lexus SC convertible with a "I love Haymarket" sticker on it. I am sadden readers to say that I did not have the stealth to get picture of her inside the PO but I did take one once I got in my car.
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Where the hell is with buttoning the top button?

I don't know where this trend has come from but I am petitioning for its death. Unless you are wearing a tie, you do not need your top button on your shirt to be buttoned. That is whack. It looks stupid and people who wear their shirts like that should be punched in the face.
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Here's an update

I am playing brickbreak, wondering why people are trying to talk on their cells. What are you? Stupid? You can't hear anything in here.
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In da club

I am chilling like a vip villain in a booth at lucky bar. The music is loud, my buzz has worn off. The girl I thought I would be hitting on (and hopefully hook up with) is dancing with some douchebag. I don't get it. I want to go to bed. Too loud. And these white kids can't dance. Are they kidding? I have seen better dancing on National Bandstand from the fifties. And that was the fifties.

I will update later with specific details. But to recap, I am over this.
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"Great work"

So, even though I woke up thinking today was going to suck it was a very productive day. I was satisfied with my hard day of work. Getting things marked off my to do list. And to finish the day, my big boss, on his way out told me, that I, Joey, had done a great job getting all the boxes out of the big room and into storage. That's right. I got recognized for my kick ass job. And its the recognition that I wanted.

It was awesome.

UPDATE: As it was pointed out in the comments section, this complement would have never taken place without the help of Liz, Taylor and Rob. Thank you to each of you.

Feeling Defeated

For some reason, I wake up this morning feeling completely defeated. I am not sure why this feeling has occurred. If you have read my last post, you probably deduced that I had a bad day on Friday. But I justified that by telling myself: "We all have bad days. Its these bad days that make the good days so much better." I have to tell myself that or else I begin to think, what I am doing at this job? Why am I really putting myself through this? I take a lot of shit from people, and I just don't say anything. I am walking a fine line between achieving everything I want, and losing it all with one bad blow up. I want to keep it professional and all, but some days I just want to scream out "leave me the fuck alone." Which of course, I can't.

The main thing that I am realizing is that I am an assistant. I assist others. I do my job well and no gives me an recognition because, I am doing my job. When I don't do my job well, I get yelled at and then I feel bad about myself. So, I get no thank you for a job well done, and I get an ear full when I fuck up. How am I suppose to gauge my performance without any positive feedback. And without that positive feedback, I am constantly afraid I am going to be fired. (I have this idea that my bosses are conducting interviews for my job and I wouldn't even know it. Then I get sandbagged with the news.) And of course, when I mess up, I feel this need to fix it. I haven't quite learned how to separate work from my personal life. When I have a bad day, it rolls over into my personal life.

So, to wrap this all up this is it. I have a constant fear that I will fired, mix that with a bad day and no positivity on a job well done, I feel defeated.

But I am positive, hopefully the day will turn sunny and it will be a good day.

Holy Shits

Ok, I know I talk about poop on this blog a lot. We all do it because if we didn't poop, just imagine what people would look like if they didn't. So anyway, after my morning coffee and I need to do the deed, right? So, instead of going to the usual communal bathroom, located by our office manager's desk I decided to use my boss' executive bathroom. He is out of the office on vacation so the chances of him catching me in there are practically zero. So, I went in, dropped the deuce and then flushed, washed my hands and bounced. Well, three days later I went in to pee right? And guess what I found. A fucking floater. And this floated, over the course of three days had dissolved into a brown mess that smelled like busted asshole. In fact, it probably smells worse now, then when I went in and did the deed the first time. Over the three days it magnified in smell.
Upon seeing the site in the bowl, I quickly flushed it away and after the water disappeared, I realized that there was a brown film developing where the meerky water had settled. Oh fuck. This totally looks dirty and my boss comes back on Saturday. The chances of him using this bathroom are pretty high, I would imagine. And now he is going to know that we use his bathroom. And do you know who he would ask about this? That's right, me. And I won't throw anyone under the bus, so I will just deny, deny, deny. But hopefully, it won't come to denying. If I can get the brown films washed away, and clean the bowl, no one will be the wiser.

No one, except for a coworker, who at lunch today, I found went into the executive bathroom (because the communal one was occupied) and discovered my leftovers. I laughed it off saying, "I took care of it." and then admitted it was mine. The real question I should have asked was "why the hell didn't you flush it when you saw it?"

With any luck, this will all be cleaned up by tomorrow and my boss will never know. I will keep you updated.

PAs in the BA

Yerin and I decided to go to New York, the Big Apple, the City that Never sleeps, to celebrate Justin's 23 birthday party. We are both hard working, young professionals who have a tendency to spend like college students. Money on booze, as cheap as possible on everything else. Being this cheap led us to take a cheap bus. The company that runs this bus is called, Eastern Express. The irony of that name is that there was nothing express about the ride.

We bought tickets for an 8:00 AM bus ride. We arrived at the pickup location at 7:40. We checked in, and got in line. And we waited. We waited until 8:10 when a bus shows up. The manager of the bus company comes out of his office and informs us that the second bus that was suppose to take us to New York had broken down and would not be coming. Those us that weren't getting on this bus here, could either wait until the 9:00 AM bus or get a refund. To be honest, we should have taken the refund, gone home and just enjoyed the weekend. but we didn't. Our love for our friend Justin made us stand in a line, as it rained, waiting for a fucking bus. The bus that arrives at 9:15, opens its doors and allows us to a take a seat. We get going, and after a stop in Baltimore, to inform the people who think they are getting on the bus, that there is no room for them and that another bus would be coming "shortly." Why the fuck did we even stop? After another random stop at a rest stop in New Jersey where we picked up a strange man, we finally got into the city. We made our first stop in Chinatown, which took forever. Then we went to Penn Station where Yerin and I got off the bus from Hell.
We met up with Pfeffer, went to dinner at a local Patsy's eatery. I got the spinach noodle fettuccini Alfredo. It was really good.




Then we headed over to Justins. Shots were consumed, beers shotgunned, cigs smoked, none of these by me. Wait, there was a shot in there at one point. Party pics below.





After the party, Pfeffer, Yerin and I headed to a hotel party at the Tribeca Grand Hotel. Once we finally got down to SoHo on the subway (which I want to say on record is the most confusing public transportation system ever, and I hate it. The fact that Pfeffer told me that if I lived in New York, I would figure it out within a month or so. To me, that is 29 days to long to figure out a public system.)

So, after a little pit stop at a 24 hour McDs for fries and water, we arrive at the Tribeca Hotel. It is very nice. Lots of hipster kids. And by lots, I mean, we were the only non-hipsters there. It was awkward. Yerin and I sat by ourselves in a roped off couch section, which would normally be very cool. VIP like, to keep the hipsters at bay, away from our non-hipster ways. But in retrospect, I think the ropes kept us in and away from the hipsters. Damn you hipsters for making us think we were cooler than you by sitting in a roped off section, when in reality you put us there so we didn't bother you.

So, while Yerin and I are sitting there talking, I spot the girl that was in Bravo's Make Me A Supermodel. I couldn't remember her name, but I saw her. Moutaha is her name.

So, since I couldn't remember her name, I walked passed with my phone, pretending to go outside to make a call and turned. Pointed a little and said "You were totally robbed on that show." To which she smiled and replied, "Thank you." We had a nice little moment. Who cares if I lied? So what, she may have been the best girl, but she didn't deserve to win. But anyway, after that, we decided to go back to Pfef's apartment and get some sleep.

I woke up the next morning and we went to meet Tali and Justin at Cup and Saucer in Chinatown. It was delicious. Good coffee.



After that, Justin, Pfef, Yerin and I made our way back to Penn Station of our 3:30 pm bus ride home. We wasted time grabbing drinks at a local bar. Yerin and Justin's Koreanness kicked in and they played arcade games against each other. I think Yerin won during the bonus round.


When the bus finally arrived, at 4:15. We got on it, and made our way out of the city. The AC did not work on this bus so if was fucking hot. We suffer through this horrible bus ride to about, 20 miles outside of DC when the bus begins to beep and our driver pulls over. That's right readers, the bus broke down.

So after the bus broke down, everyone exited the bus, got on the blackberries and iphones and started to call cab companies. A nice man driving a super shuttle pulled over and offered a ride. This crazy man thought he was Cole Trickle from Days of Thunder. He was trying to be a personal best time, I think. He was insane. Weaving in and out of lanes, running yellow lights, speeding. It was crazy.
Here Yerin was praying we lived. I joined her in pray. Our prays worked, we did.

Even PAs get to travel

So, last weekend, I kicked off the PA Tour. My first stop was in Chicago to take in some sites and delicious food. Here is a recap of that weekend...
Allison and I arrived at the Raffaello Hotel where my uncle has procured a hotel suite. We drop off the bags and head to Michigan Ave for some light shopping. Allison went into the Louis Vuitton store and was inquiring about the monogrammed LV cashmere blanket throw thing, to which the sales woman replied, "let me check." She came back with a blanket (that arrived in a cheap plastic bag that looked like it was shipped from China) and informed us that this blanket was a very special blanket. These blankets are limited to a certain number so it is very special. She told us the price. "This is 1080 dollars. That is a great price for something that is going to be in your family for a long time." What? When I heard her say the price followed by the clear explanation of why it cost so much (its practically a piece of art) I held in my laughter until we got outside.
After Louisville, Allison wanted to go to Gucci where she contemplated buying her brother two ties for his birthday, while I contemplated this hot woman with a baby as either a nanny or a mommy. I am going to go with nanny, even though she was probably the mother of the very well behaved little boy in the stroller.
After some more shopping we went back to the hotel and changed for dinner at RL. RL is Ralph Lauren's restaurant that is set at the store. It was very good. I got the Amish Chicken with creamed corn and some fancy cheesy potatoes. Allison got the Salmon. But the food wasn't the most exciting part. We sat next to a woman who I think must have been some Chicagoan socialite. Her table had a reserved sign on it. When she sat down, all of the managers and waitstaff stopped by the table to say hello. At one point she got up from her table and made the rounds at the restaurant saying hello to her "dearest friends." At one point I went to the bathroom and returned to find Allison in conversation with her. What Allison discovered was that she eats all her meals out, every restaurant in town knows how she is, the following night she would be eating at Joe's. When I returned to the table, she asked how long Allison and I had been married to which I should have replied, "oh, we're not married, we have just been living in sin for the last three years." Of course, I didn't do that since I was mostly sober (unlike my last trip to RL, thanks UJ for that, it was awesome). After that we went back to the hotel and got some sleep so that we could get up early and do some site seeing.

The following morning, we hailed a cab and met the best cabbie in Chicago. His name is Chad Small. We asked him for a recommendation for brunch (since my go to brunch place "Orange on Harrison" was closed, damn recession) and he recommend, Yolk, "the new location because it will be less crowded and therefore better chances of getting a table without waiting an hour." He was right. After some more recommendation from Chad about the best sandwich and pizza in town we jumped out of his cab at the hoppin' eatery. We walked into Yolk like we owned the place (i tend to do that a lot anyway) and were seated right away in this side booth where we could people watch.

We ordered some delicious food. I ordered the "create your own scrambler with a short stack" and Allison ordered a...a...something that came in a skillet and was delicious. This was my meal half way through.

After Yolk, we hit the Elle Train and went to some hipster scene. It was all sex shops and vintage clothes. Also, a really great used bookstore (I love a good used bookstore) we found some vintage Playboys. Awesome find. I bought some posters for my walls and we headed back down town to meet Allison's friends.
After meeting up with Allison's friends, they all went to a cocktail party and I was left in the hotel room watching TNT, they know drama.
Once the show was over I went down to Girodanos because Chad Small recommend the Italian beef sandwich and the Famous Stuffed Pizza. I had to wait 1 hour and 20 minutes, just to get a table (don't they know who I am) and then we had to wait another hour for the pizza.
Here is the Italian sandwich, fucking delicious.

Here is the pizza

After all that, we went back to the hotel and passed out.

The following day, we had breakfast at the Cafe Bistro across the street from the hotel. After eggs and bacon, Allison and I went our separate ways. She headed to her convention and I went to the Chicago History Museum. I walked to entire way there, all 23 blocks. I got to see some of Chicago I have never seen before. Here is a picture of the John Hancock building on my walk.

After the museum I headed back downtown to meet up with Allison for some dinner. We ended up going to the Navy Pier (super touristy) but it was good time. We rode the Ferris Wheel.



This is when we got to the top.




After that we had dinner at Bubba Gump Shrimp and went back to the hotel. The next morning we headed back to the airport, but Allison wasn't feeling too good. We got back to Virginia and I went to work the next day. Allison got really sick and was out of work for two days. That sucked.

Really?

This guy was reading a book at the airport. I think he just came from currating a painting at the Smithsonian.
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Women plus Ray Ban Aviators equals ????

HOT!!!

Women in Hollywood need sunglasses. The weather in Sunny Southern California is just that, sunny. They need eye protection from the harmful UV rays of the sun, as well as the bright flashes of paparazzi. Here are my favorite beauties rocking the Ray Ban Classic Aviator. I threw in a picture of Brad Pitt too, for you ladies. (PS, I owned none of these pictures.)

Not how I wanted to start my day

Getting a phone call on my way into work is not how I wanted to start my day. It was from our office manager. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning. I was asked to set up a conference call with four of our employees and the vendors in South Africa who are supplying us with footage for a show. So, I set up the call with our employees but was never told who to contact over seas.
So the call was to take place this morning. I sent an email to my boss yesterday asking a list of questions, most importantly who in South Africa I was suppose to invite to the conference call. Well, once I got his reply it turned into a whole mess.
Our new conference bridge phone number, doesn't have an international call in line. So I had to use the old bridge number. Which I don't have because it was in the office in my desk. Did i forget to mention that I was reminding people and inviting them to the call at 8 oclock at night. So, basically, what happened was I typed the wrong phone number for my employees but I sent out the right international one to the vendors. So at least I don't look stupid to the South Africans. But to my employees I look like a fool. So needless to say, all of them had to call the office and get the right number and I sent out an apology for fucking up. I get a reply from my boss. The big boss. The big cheese. "You and I need to discuss attention to detail overall."

That was not the response I was hoping for, but the one most deserving I am sure. Yes, I have messed up but I am only human. I never claimed to walk on water. This is so not how I wanted to start my day. So, now I am freaking out and don't know what to think. Is he really angry? Will he fire me over this? I am on the verge of a total panic attack i tell you. I need to calm down.


UPDATE:
So my boss never did yell at me yesterday. But that doesn't mean he has forgotten. Also, when I woke up today I had an email from one of our producers I booked hotel and flights for last week. Turns out, I booked his returning flight two days before he was actually going to need. Needless to say, when he got to the airport there was no reservation for him. Shit.

The Mice Must DIE!!!!

So, this morning my lady boss, "Boss Lady" if you will, comes into the bullpin (large open area where my desk is located) and starts flipping out about four pieces of mouse poop. "Joey, you need to call them and give them the riot act. This is disgusting. What if this was your house, what would you?" To which I replied "I have a cat. So I don't worry about this." "That's not helpful." You want to know what is not helpful Boss Lady? You freaking out over some mouse stool. The exterminator was here on friday, and he set out some bait. Its not going to work over night. It takes time. The exterminator told me when I called him on the phone to schedule another appointment, it takes 10 to 14 days to see a decrease. He explained that the bait he uses will slowly dehydrate a mouse from the inside but it doesn't happen over night. Boss Lady doesn't understand why we aren't seeing a dramatic change?

Well, lets see. We work in a basement, on a house that is constantly under some sort of construction, in the country. This is where mice live. What am I suppose to do about the mice? Maybe if I sing a song, they will come out and help clean up and do some dirty dishes. That might be mice, I mean nice.

Working out, then Pizza

I know I should work out then get pizza. So I didn't. I just got the pizza. And it made me realize how much I love pizza. And I miss it. I try to eat right, exercise regularly (and I do, depending on your definition of regularly). So, since I try to be good I like to go crazy. Last night eat at the silver diner where I feasted on onion rings, meat loaf, mashed potatos, and corn. I washed it all down with a chocolate shake. Thank God you were in my car on the way home, or in the Bersack household when I dropped that bomb. (Side note: I write about pooping a lot but since no one reads my blog, I won't stop.)

So, yes. I just finished my third slice. It was fucking delicious. I should go workout.
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Rockstar vs Groupie

So, in my mind, there are two types of people. Rockstars and Groupies. A Rockstar, by definition is someone who is above and beyond. Great at what they do. Some one who rocked it. Those that don't reach Rockstar status are just Groupies. A Groupie is someone who is just there. Nothing special. They don't stand out. They sit and watch the Rockstars work.

Today, I felt like a groupie. Here's why...this past Friday I have my review with my two bosses (you can read the post before this to see how I felt before going into the meeting). To my surprise, it went really well. It was about an hour and ten minutes. Twenty of those minutes were spent on my performance (good) and what I need to work on (taking phone numbers when I take messages). So going into this week, I wanted to work those things that need improvement. I have been taking phone numbers for everyone. And I took a phone number when a client called her looking for my boss. I told her, he was out but would be back later and she said that she would just send him an email. I was adamant about getting her number (Can I have your digits? Can I get 'em?) and she finally gave it to me. I wrote the number down and did nothing with it. I was copied to an email chain where my boss and this client were looking for a good time to catch up. Once a time was decided on, I created the event on my boss' calendar that just said "call this lady" I didn't even think about putting the number in there. Why didn't i put the number on the event? What the hell was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn't thinking, or else I would have done. So needless to say, he had to email the client today asking her to call him because he didn't have the number (due to my Groupie ass who didn't do his job).

What is frustrating about all this is the fact that it is all happening after my review. I asked for more responsibility and my boss' concern is that if I take on more work, I might let things fall through the cracks. Things like this. Fuck! This just sucks. I am a rockstar damn it. Not a groupie. A Rockstar.

And of course, this one little mistake overshadows the amount of work I did for him yesterday and last night. My Boss asked me to do research into the structure of American Idol and HBO's Hard Knocks. No big deal. I can handle that. So, I began my Internet research and once I finished (at midnight last night) I had four pages of structure for him to read. I even came into work early this morning because he was suppose to leave before I usually get in and i wanted to print the pages off for him to take. I got here (I am currently at the office) before anyone else and printed the pages and had them ready for him when he came downstairs to pack him briefcase. All of that excellent (if I do say so myself) work will be forgotten I can assure you. Damn it.

Nerves plus Mexican equal "Bad idea"

So, in about forty minutes I am sitting down with my big boss and my little boss. I plan to discuss my performance so far, taking on added responsibility as well as a raise. I am very nervous for some reason. Mainly, I am not sure what my bosses will say if I ask for a raise. Its not like I am unhappy with my job. I love my job. I just don't feel challenged or that I am being used to my full potential. Also, my current monetary rate per week was what they offered me 10 months ago. I accepted that rate because I didn't know what the job entailed, but now that I am in the full swing of things, I feel I deserve more money.

So, I planned to go to lunch with Renee and discuss strategy on how to bring up the raise in the conversation but my little boss joined us, so then I couldn't talk about it. For lunch, we went to a local Mexican place. In hindsight, not a good idea. I eat my weight in food and washed it down with a soda. All of that on top of my coffee this morning, needless to say, come 3:30 my stomach was singing and my colon was about to burst. I end to the communal bathroom and dropped the nastiest, grossest, loudest bomb. It smelled and was disgusting. And that is saying a lot coming from the guy who produced said "magic turd." Anyway, after I finished, I thought I should light a match but I didn't have any matches with me, so I had to leave the fan running and pray that no one goes in there for the next twenty minutes.

I just heard the toilet flush, 'Sorry to whoever is in there. My bad...but I am only human.'

I hope my conversation goes as smoothly as that poo. Just not as loud or smelly.

A Liberal in a Republican Family

I am thinking about spinning that title into its own blog, but I don't see my wonderfully conservative family enough to warrant a whole blog. I do spend enough time to give them their own blog posts though. So, here it is.

My family is very Republican. Very. During the election, or shortly right after my little cousin Harrison (who was eight at the time) run up to me at Thanksgiving and said, "Why did you vote for Obama?" and I replied, "I just did." He said all this through watery eyes, like I had just kicked his dog and run over his cat. It would have been on the verge of heartbreaking, if I didn't think that his political views stem from listening to his father talk about how a Republican is the only person who can run this country the proper way. Right after the election and Obama's win, everyday I was at the family farm for Thanksgiving, I had to defend Obama and his "plans" for the next year. It was so damn annoying. I am not Obama's PR guy. I do not have to defend him. I voted for him, and so did millions of other Americans who thought he was a better candidate than McCain.

So, for this trip to the family farm in Michigan I embraced my Republican side. I didn't have a sweatshirt (I had only brought J.Crew sweaters) so I put one my mom took from my grandpa. See Picture below. I went out and my uncles and cousins and I shot some skeet.
I was not bad, but I certainly am not going to win any marksmen contests.

Its gonna be one of those days

So the office is getting new floors. Its been a long time coming and now it has somehow been placed in my charge. I am moving boxes and organizing offices. Also, I have to do all my other duties. Plus, we have the other company owner in town, so now I am an assistant to him also. He hasn't asked me to do anything serious, but I am just waiting. That is one of the best traits an assistant can have, that constant anticipation. The need to guess what someone is going to ask and do it before they ask. It makes you look baller to your bosses. So, try to anticipate and deliver it.

It has happened

They took my brand new company laptop away from me and am replacing it with a laptop that is like, 5 years old and I will be its fifth owner. To be honest, I thought they would have figured it out sooner but I wasn't going to be the one to tell them.

So they are taking mine and giving it to someone else. Not that this woman isn't deserving of my fancy laptop, I just don't want my baby taken away from me. Its like my child. I took it out of the box. I plugged it into the wall and gave it its first taste of electricity. I was the who turned it on for the very first time. I don't want to give my baby to some stranger who won't take care of it the way I do.

Sad situation. I am going to go hold my laptop and rock it back and forth, whisper "its not your fault you are wonderful" and cherish these final moments we have together.
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Its been too long

Ok, Well, it has been too long since I have last posted. Its not like things aren't happening. They are. I just can't talk about them. And not for any sexy reason other than the majority of the stories involve my boss. And, I certainly don't want to publish anything about my boss. And no, I can not justify it by using code names to protect the innocent. I will not be posting about my trials and tribulations as an executive assistant, until, I move on from here and get a different job. Once that happens, all of the posts I have written up in word will be copy and pasted into the blog. But, until then, those stories will never see the light of day.

But why, you ask?

Two reasons: One, self preservation. I want to keep this job. For the most part I like this job. Answering the phones, making travel arrangements (and then changing or canceling them at the last minute) and other office work. Two, I like my boss. I mostly only write when I am angry at him for having me do something I find stupid, but he sees it as a necessity. I just need to keep remembering, "I am an assistant. I assist. I do what he doesn't want to do. One day, I will have an assistant and I will ask them to do things I don't want to do and they too will write about my "necessities" on their blog."

So, there you have it. I want to keep my job and I like my boss.

Wish I more to tell you. I don't. I got a new company laptop. But any minute it might be taken away and given to someone more deserving. When that happens, it might crush my soul, but don't worry readers, I will be back blogging in no time, even if I have to use a public library computer.

Never drinking again

I know that I tend to write hangover posts but I never want to drink again. I was fine I until I took the tequila shot and then got kicked out of the club. Everything after the tequila shot is a little fuzzy. Pretty sure I vomited in the streets. Kept it together in the taxi, got back to lizs where I proceeded to vomit some more. It was so embarrassing. I don't do this kind of thing. I am very classy and I keep it together. I don't know how I got the couch but I am here. Its 9 in the morning. Don't know how long I am been here but I am sipping on water and pretty much am still drunk. I want to die. This is so uncool. Making my friends take care of me. I am an adult. I should have known my limits. But on the other hand, I never do shit like this, so I was bound for a shity night. The last time I got sick from drinking was one of the last college parties. That was nine months ago. I was so due.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry