soapboxdiner

Get your booty on the floor tonight. Make my day.

You know its going to be a good day when you walk in to work and have your co-workers ask you, "SBD, could you sing me Doing the Butt please?"

It's even better if you get to add that purry sexy little ooowwww! at the end. Better still if you get to do the dance, but that may be pushing it.

Well I did it, kids. I finally blew a gasket. I did. I couldn't help it, it was forced upon me.

and it felt goooooddd!

New Girl did it again. And so, as per the new resolution (that I didn't decide needed to be a resolution until today when the top of my head hinged open and a cartoon train steam stack popped out to blow some big black cartoon smoke), I told her allll about.

New Girl: You looked stressed.

Me: Excuse me, New Girl? Hi. I'm not stressed. I'm just really tired of holding my tongue when you make me the brunt of your perfectionism. I find it unprofessional and unconducive and demoralizing. So, if this is a contest, guess what? You win! Can we act like grown-up co-workers now?

New Girl: Oh. (as she takings a long pull on her Menthol Misty Ultra Light cigarette, waits a minute, then points her face at me and exhales.) Well, that you feel like that doesn't really bother me.

And for the rest of the day, we locked our arms together at the elbow and skipped down the halls singing Kumbaya.

And who said there were no happy endings?

Which is probably the thing that prompted me to do a late encore for the rest of the crew. I Pumped Up The Jam and did the Roger Rabbit.

By damn, it was a good day.

6:19 pm - 01.06.03
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