24-Oct-2005

We are preparing for an office move.  I don't know how many of you out there have moved offices in your lifetime, but it's a pain in the ass that I would not hesitate to compare to having your hand gnawed off by a pack scabes-infested rats.  I am calling all over town looking for boxes, and G-Money is panicked that the half and half will go bad on the fifteen minute drive over to the new place.  I, however, would be thrilled if I hadn't just spilled coffee all over my foot (why did I wear flipflops today?  Oh, cause socks are for crackheads, that's why).  Would I be thrilled because a.) I got to watch "The O.C." pilot for the first time last night and am reaffirmed in my belief that Doug Liman belongs among the ranks of Coppola, Scorcese, and God; b.)  I finished the rewrite of my B-list celebrity stalking script; or c.) I get my own office on the lot.

That's right, folks, it's C!!!  Never have I ever had my own office.  Although, G-Money was quick to warn me about the downside. 

G- Money:  Now don't get too excited.  There aren't any windows, and it's not much bigger than your cubicle, and it's more than likely full of asbestos.

Me:  (jumping up and down, clapping) That is so awesome!

G-Money:  I mean, like, a LOT of asbestos.

Me:  Cool!!

G-Money:  I mean A LOT.

It doesn't matter how many times she tells me I'm going to be inhaling a deadly substance for fourteen hour periods over the next six months.  At least I can visit explicit websites, or chew with my mouth open, or shut my door and talk shit about people.  If I die, I die happy, because having my own office, be it riddled with ants, asbestos, or bad karma, is perhaps a healthier accomplishment than watching the entire second season of "24" all in one sitting.  Although, if I hadn't done that, who knows if I ever would have gotten my own office?