religiously devoted to you

my girl works with me. same company, same building, same department, same floor. we practically wake up together, go to work together, come back together; to which there's pros and cons, and which i emphasise the con of not having any 'personal time'.

actually, when i say 'my girl works with me', i mean i work for her. gives a new meaning to the phrase 'she's the boss'. sigh. again pros and cons. we wake up, and i make her coffee. we go to work, and i ... do the work. she just tells me what to do. we have lunch break, and she tells me my datelines are up. my performance is down. revenues are up/down but i still can't expect a pay-raise. or a promotion. we go home, and i take out the trash. it's a 'smack yo' bi*ch up' world, except she's doing the smacking. which would be pretty awesome if that carried itself into the bedroom, but... cold fish.

saturday, i'm at my cubicle.

spreadsheets. domestic pressure. pie charts. mortgage bills. client complaints. wrathful significant others. overdue deadlines. deranged parents. missed opportunities. dwindling finances. the list goes on, and so do the minutes. this is probably some kind of divine retribution for leaving everything 'til the last possible minute. one extension after another: the story of my life.

phone rings.

who could that be? office line, nonetheless, instead of my cellphone. clearly someone knows i'm working (in the loosest sense of the word) at this infernal hour.

it's the boss / woman / crusher of souls.

'hey, just wanted you to know, i have church tomorrow...'

yes, i know this.

'... so i'd like the wayne papers in by the end of the evening, please.'

but, it's not due 'til monday.

'and, oh, this isn't really a request'.

yes, i can practically taste the sarcasm in your tone. it's like cheese. the blue-vein variety.

'more of an order. love you, toodles. also, dinner with my parents on christmas eve.'

at which point, i snap.

i am calm. poised. slightly aloof. 'that's it, we're through,'

'pardon me?'

'this is why we can't be together. we're just too incompatible. you're a catholic, and i'm a devout procrastant.'



oh yeah, we're still on nobel-prize-themed week. as per the story, i have been blessed (simultaneously cursed) with an extension till wednesday. rejoice! so here's some half-assed nobel-prizey stuff: it's named after alfred nobel. click on the link to find out more. if you already knew this, click on it anyway, because i'm out. friday night. party on, rar!