Shampoo Solo

Me: I wish Jeeves was here to help me with all these bags.
Her: Where did the name Jeeves come from? Who started that? Is it just the name for — [whispers] a butler?
Me: It was probably — wait. Did you just whisper ‘butler’? Is that some kind of offensive term all of a sudden? If so, I can’t wait to start looking sideways at people and accusing them under my breath of being butlers!

Just before 2 p.m. the other day, I was in a meeting with a huge group of people, and a random guy walked into the conference room.

Random Guy: Is this the tech meeting?
Coworker #1: Do we look like nerds?
Coworker #2: Um, there are girls in this room.
Coworker #3: Of course, the tech meetings always start at 1:55.

We redecorated our home office (nee second bedroom) not too long ago. I wish we had thought to take “Before” photos, but we totally forgot. Let me say this much: It was ugly and disorganized; we had a broken down desk facing the wall, with one chair that we had to compete for anytime either of us wanted to pay bills or check email or watch porn.

Anyway, the main thing is that we got a plain white dining table that we set up perpendicular to the wall, and we call it “the partner desk” and we sit facing each other and on Saturday mornings, when we’re not sure what to do with a whole wide open day that’s all ours, I’ll write down suggestions (like “Take me to breakfast!” or “Pool!”) on the back of a junk mail envelope and I’ll say, “This is my final offer” and then we’ll go do the opposite of whatever I wrote down.

This is my side of the desk:

We still really need to do something with that wall, but I’m not sure what. I am too lazy for painting and very much against installing any kind of shelfing. Maybe some Blik wall decals? Also, does anyone have any magic tricks for hiding cords? I HATE CORDS. The day every electronic is wireless will be the happiest day of my life. Even if I’m 100 years dead.

This is his side of the desk:

This is the reorganized Expedit (aka The Home Must-Have for Collectors of Records, Books, and Other Assorted Junk):

This is a closeup of one of the chairs:

We just had the following conversation while each sitting on our own sides of the partner desk:

Me: I just put a post up that you might enjoy!
Him: Let me hit refresh!

I found that amusing, because it means he’s kind of a stalker, and kind of full of shit, both being qualities that I find extremely attractive in men.

What’s also fun is that sometimes, when we’re both sitting at the desk working or paying bills or watching porn, I’ll reach over really quietly and unplug his USB mouse, and then watch as he gets more and more irritated that THE MOUSE JUST UP AND STOPPED WORKING AND IT SEEMS LIKE THAT IS REALLY HAPPENING A LOT LATELY. And eventually I’ll crack up and he’ll figure it out. Again.

Oh, and there’s a cat tent.

What’s an office without a cat tent? The feline partners here require a lot of naps.

My coworker’s four-year-old daughter is kind of a staple around the office. She’s adorable, and she screams a lot (in a fun discovering-her-big-new-voice kind of way, not an I’m-an-annoying-child way), and the one time that she came to happy hour with us, she demanded that she be allowed to sit next to me and furthermore, she demanded that I read her Dr. Seuss. I sipped wine, she sipped milk. It was lovely. In fact, it was probably one of the best first dates I’ve ever had in life.

A few days ago, she asked her dad if I was married. He told her not yet, to which she responded:

‘Good. I’m going to marry her when I turn 12.’

I was extremely flattered — she’d enjoyed our first date, too! — until I found out that she said the same thing about her grandfather.

Me: Look! Brad Pitt and I have the same phone!
Scott: Brad Pitt has a pink Juicy Couture Sidekick?!

And that reminds me — I have actually retired my Sidekick and my corresponding 703 number, so if you’re the type of reader who is also a texter or a caller, e-mail me if you haven’t gotten a note with my new number yet. (I don’t remember how to make e-mail hyperlinks anymore, so FYI, it’s shampoo solo 17 at aol dot com.)

Me: I’m thinking about getting a Mini-Cooper as a 30th birthday present to myself, and I wanted to get your input on one quick financial thing.
Dad: Mini-Coopers have terrible safety ratings.
Me: Actually, I think the newer models -
Dad: No. They’re no good. You’re not getting one. I’m the Dad, and I’ve spoken. It’s final.
Me: …

Me: I think I need your help putting on this bra.
Scott: Um. OK. What do I do?
Me: Smoosh ‘em together so I can fasten the clip?
Scott: (smooshing) OK. You know, if I could get more assignments like this, in the future, that’d be really great.

Drunk Man With Chip on Shoulder: How dare you close that door in my face! I don’t care how cold it is! How dare you! You can’t treat me that way! I make $250,000 a year!
Usman: Yeah, but how are your benefits?