Hmmm. The hair's not right. Karen has much shorter hair than this. In real life, she does not look like a reject from a 1993 sitcom.
Karen is a fellow escapee from the local news media. We have great fun together, because we both have higher hopes for journalists than they have for themselves. For example, we think headlines like "Rapist Acquitted" are bad.
As I continue my efforts to get everyone I know to start their own blogs, I am pleased to report yet another success. Welcome, Karen L. You see, people who don't have blogs tend to think that people who do have blogs are major losers. This is bad for my self-esteem, and things are bad enough around here without setting myself up to be mocked by people who don't like blogs. I much prefer the way things are now: getting mocked by people who do like blogs.
Karen pops into my office every few days to have a hearty laugh at my expense or to complain that something about my blog is not to her liking. Just in case her boss is reading, I will stress that none of this happens during work hours. In fact, we keep a close eye on the clock and spend only the amount of time that the collective agreement allots us. When that time expires, we immediately get back to work.
Karen makes fun of me for many things, but especially because I am generally clueless about the world (for example, men who have a lot of ABBA in their music collections). She, on the other hand, is incredibly perceptive. It is almost not worth putting secret messages in my post titles. I might as well say exactly what I'm thinking: I'M TRAPPED AND TOO SCARED TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. ALSO, I'M TIRED OF PRETENDING EVERYTHING IS OK. I'M PRETTY SURE THAT NOTHING IS EVER GOING TO CHANGE.
Whew! Better put the lid back on THAT!
Like I was saying, go check out Karen's blog. I should have linked to her weeks ago.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Welcome, Karen (with an "e")(AKA Karen L)
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4 comments:
Oh. My. Remember the credo - I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you. The difference is an important one!
Um...so much to say really, and yet, where to start? Spotting hidden messages, and solving puzzles, are fun? I wish my hair would do that flip thing? Do I really look like I'm about to spontaneously combust - all the time? Why do I still not know what was in that 18-year-old's cropped out hand?
Hmmm... so much to work on, it seems.
Good to know that at least, under the cover of the collective agreement, I am protected for our infrequent, extremely short chats. No, wait, something's not right about that..oh, yup, now I've got it. No protection there - I'm excluded.
Hmmm...Megan, you're just going to have to come downstairs more often. But not during work hours. Because I hang out in my office outside of work hours too.
I promise to mock only during alternate visits.
Wait...I'm excluded, too.
Yes, these will have to be non-work-related chats that take place strictly outside work hours. The union guys say excluded folks can be fired if our bosses don't like the shirts we wear. (That always seemed like a stretch to me, but following journalistic guidelines, I am forced to acknowledge that union guys are "angels" and/or "mavericks". Therefore, everything they say should be accepted as fact.)
Yep, you're both excluded. Of course, I NEVER socialize at work. I prefer to call Megan 6 times a night, have two second conversations about the whereabouts of the boys and then invite her for tea . . .
Showoff.
I never get invited for tea.....
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