Friday, September 30, 2005

Money Troubles

So. This list came out today detailing the "400 Richest Americans". Apparently, Bill Gates tops the list with $51 billion. I did a little math... for fun... with my awesome boss.

After asking, "I wonder how much he'd have to spend every minute to blow that much money?"

Well, assuming that:

1. Bill Gates doesn't earn more money between now and his death (which is, I know, an unrealistic assumption);

2. Bill Gates will die at age 78, and;

3. Bill Gates allotted no time to sleep or eat...

Bill would have 29 years left to spend $51 billion. Which would mean that he'd have to spen $3,300 every minute for the rest of his life... in order to blow his wod. Damn.

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Homeless Chic

I know what I'm getting a special someone on June 13th: sweet.

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40 mg, please

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Sorry for the abstinence as of late, all. Been severely busy at work and, as of recently, a little down in the dumps.

I found out on Tuesday that, to make a long story short, I was brought into my new job to revitalize business. Mind you this is a MAJOR oversimplification of the circumstances. There are many talented people that contribute to the success of my employer, but I am now ever more aware of the pressure to achieve and succeed. I can feel the pressure to jump through hoops and prove myself. I tend to shine when challenged, but for some reason this awareness has hampered my ability to work at an unadulterated pace. It reminds me of when I was a competitive tennis player in my (younger) youth.

Every time I'd be in a final match, I'd ask my mother not to watch. It just made me so nervous to know that she was there. She never imposed any pressure on me or even really cared if I won or lost. But to me, I felt this intense set of eyes watching me. Like I had to impress my mom... or else. I'd be a fat loser... in front of my mom. I'd be killing the competition; but the minute I realized my mom was watching, I would start to lose. Never failed. It's the power of the brain, folks. Mom watching = loss because you will crumble under the pressure. Once my mushy mass incorporated that formula, it was extremely hard to overcome. So that's kind of how it seems to be at work. While there is this pressre to achieve, I'd rather not be in on the explicit truth. In other words, if my mom's going to watch don't tell me she's there.

So there's the work thing. Then there's the hot British Research Scientist. BRS asked ME out and asked ME for MY phone number. So on Sunday I gave my number to the BRS who said I'd be getting a call this week. Saw the BRS on Tuesday night at the gym where major flirting was taking place. But I hadn't gotten a call yet (during which call we were supposed to set up a date for this weekend). It's now Friday, and I haven't gotten a call. What the F? At least wait until we go out on a date to reject me. Sheesh.

So there's the BRS. Then there's my ex. I sent my ex a 'check-up' E-mail yesterday just to say, 'Hi.' In response to which I received a 'serious' E-mail about how we are over romantically and how we shouldn't continue to have sex blah blah BLAH. Kind of cracked me up a little bit at the start of the work day yesterday. So I was kind of a mess all day yesterday.

So there's the ex thing. Then there's the money situation. As you all probably know, living in NYC ain't cheap. I've been living in my own place for over two years, paying for classes, and then drinking like a rockstar. I pretty much never have an overabundance of cash, but these past two weeks have been TIGHT. Really tight. Budgeting to the penny kind of tight. I limited my work lunches to $4 (bye bye, $15 yummy organic mart lunches) and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I tend to freak out about money, so I'd rather starve to death than be in debt (Freud says, "Please see Drone's childhood when his financially irresponsible mother routinely carried over $20,000 in credit card debt.") So I guess my hunger could explain why I'm prone to being grumpy lately.

So there's the money thing. Other than that, I'm just DANDY! Happy it's Friday and that the weather in NYC is not so swelteringly hot. I actually used my down comforter last night and was a little cold under there. Sweet.

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Monday, September 26, 2005

In your neigh-borhood

True to Monday's form, work is way busy. A lot happened this weekend. And by a lot I mean drinking and rebel rousing. Check out Gina's post that recounts a part of my weekend. My favorite part is, of course, the horse head masks that I bought for one of my best friends, Cool Brooklyn. He and I are going as horses... er... with man bodies. Heh. Brilliant! If not incredibly hilarious. I've never laughed as hard as I did when I tried those heads on during Cool Brooklyn's surprise birthday party on Saturday night. PS: I was also drinking vodka from the bottle as if it were water.

I'll expound more when time presents itself. But. One interesting development is that I saw BRS once again at the gym on Sunday. A date is impending. Sweet. Neigh!

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Friday, September 23, 2005

Oh joy

In celebration of what is apparently National Singles Week (gooh), please feel free to scoff and snark at the expense of this boring and terribly written article by one Margot Carmichael Lester.

Incidentally, please note that:

Margot Carmichael Lester, author of The Real Life Guide to Life After College, visualized her ideal relationship every night before she went to bed. One day she met a man who’d been doing some visualizing of his own. Now they’re married and living their dreams every day.

B.A.R.F. BARF!

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Say What Say What

So this morning, upon checking my personal E-mail account, I noticed this following E-mail:


From : Yadda@mckinsey.com
Sent : Thursday, September 22, 2005 6:44 PM
Subject : McKinsey's response to tech difficulties for apps.


Good day!

As many of you now know, last night we were experiencing hightraffic on our web-site which lead to issues with our server. [skip to "I encourage you..." if already bored] The server at times was very slow or completely unavailableand many students had difificulty or were unable to apply.Due to these technical difficulties with the on-line serverlast night, we will be extending the deadline for applicantsto apply until 11:59 p.m. EDT tonight, Sept 22nd.

I encourage you to apply on-line by the new deadline. Allstudents who apply in the wee hours of the morning will havetheir application accepted.

A couple of points: please apply on-line by midnight tonight,using a PC computer (we do not support Macs) and to turn offpop-up blockers when applying.

Again, the deadline has been extended to 11:59 pm TONIGHT, and any students who were able to submit their applicationslast night, after the deadline, will be considered.Thank you for your patience while sorting out this issuetoday and for your assistance with this issue. I apologizefor any inconvenience this caused you. Please let me know ifyou have any questions.

Best,
Yadda

Well, good day to you too, McKinsey. But who the hell are you, and what the hell are you talking about? So I checked out the website, and I remembered what this shi-ite is. No matter how these "consulting" companies spin their "services," I'm convinced that they're just a high-end haven for Ivy League graduates that don't know what they want to do with their professional lives and don't mind having an inexplicable job that pays well while they try to figure it out. Plus, it's a great job for arrogant, indebted Ivy League graduates: two birds with one stone, if you will. Instead of having to go to graduate school, blossoming consultants can immediately realize their dreams of telling other people what to do AND pay off their college loans quickly. It's a win win.

All joking aside, I remember that this company recruited on my college campus. I don't remember registering with them, so maybe an "associate" gave them my E-mail address. Weird.

Anywho. Much to my chagrin, the British research scientist was not at the gym last night. Hence, we were unable to exchange contact information for our date. I'm seriously hoping that the BRS is there tonight, because I'm starting to form a jones for this cat.

After the gym last night, I went into Williamsburg (Brooklyn, not Colonial) to celebrate one of my best bud's (Cool Brooklyn's) 27th birthday. Went to an AWESOME bar that served $1 (yes, you heard me correctly) drinks until 9PM (beer, vodka, rum, etc.). I was double fisting like nobody's business. Plus, I got to buy CB tons of drinks, seeming like a great friend, and didn't have to spend a boatload. Awesome.

This weekend is basically the Cool Brooklyn weekend. I've planned a dinner and asurprise party (i.e., boozefest) for CB this Saturday night with all of our and his friends. Should be awesome.

I'm hoping for the hot BRS to be at the gym tonight, so maybe I can line up some making out for the weekend, too. Here's hoping.

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Thursday, September 22, 2005

My name is...

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I have a new appreciation for Gina's mistaken Hollywood identity.

No. I am neither the guy from Party of Five nor the guy from Lost.

I have gotten this at least a dozen times over the course of the past two weeks! Ugh.

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Wednesday, September 21, 2005

All That and A Bag o' Chips

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I'm so happy. And here's why.

Work: I was working kind of late last night preparing for an important meeting today. I got tired and agreed with myself that I should leave work in order to avoid burnout. So I went to the gym.

Where I saw this awesomely hot British research scientist (I guess they actually exist) that I had a conversation with Sunday night.

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To back up even further, I went out with my friend M on Sunday night. M and Drone got trashed on homemade pre-game martinis and then proceeded to a club/bar for tequila shots and beer. Primed with booze, I was much more free with my actions and decided to approach said British research scientist whom I recognized from my gym. I talked to BRS for about an hour and then headed home (saying that we'd definitely see eachother at the gym). OK, so back to the gym last night.

Running on the treadmill, I noticed the hot BRS doing the elliptical machine behind me. I played it cool and began running with as perfect form as I'm capable. OK, so I was trying to show off. Without being annoying. Just trying to put my best foot (or feet, as the case was) forward. Then, the hot BRS got off the elliptical and made a bee line for Drone. I took out my headphones and let the flirtation commence. Uhhh. I was all butterfly-ey and awkward inside. Trying to talk to BRS while I ran proved difficult, so BRS left to let me get back to it. I said that we'd definitely talk when I got off. Fast forward: so we did and now we're gunna get a drink. Awesome. So that's why I'm happy for one. The whole anticipatory excitement of getting together with someone rules. Probably moreso than actually being with them. Or maybe that's only in my screwed-up world. OK, so now back to my work scenario.

I decided that I'd come into work early today to finish my prepartions for the important review/meeting today. When my boss came in and saw what I was doing, he said, and I quote:

"Bang up job, Drone. Your [work] looks better than any of my [similar work] ever [has]. Really great."

Pshaw. Little ol' me? Heh. So yeah. That's the second reason I'm happy today.

An update on the Date and Non-Date referenced in my last post:

The Date has called me twice and emailed me three times about getting dinner (i.e., having a second date). Uhm. You wish your roommate would end his life so that you can have a crappy apartment AND you don't know what an iPod is. You know how Donald Trump says YOU'RE FIRED? Well, to 'Date': PHONE PHASE OUT! In other words, I'm not calling you back.

The Non-Date definitely has gooshy feelings for the Drone. I suspected it when I received numerous pre-drink E-mails like this:

Dear Drone,

Looking forward to you and tequila tonight. Can't wait to finally see you.

[Friend of Drone's Ex who seems to want to re-enact an episode of The OC]

Non-Date is seriously cute and very sweet. But, Non-Date? I'm not Mischa Barton. Nor do I wish to be Mischa Barton's character on The OC. There is no way I'm making out with a friend of my ex. A GOOD friend of my ex. Especially when my ex and I literally did the nasty a week ago. Too weird. No thanks. Check please.

Funnily enough, I had my night class right before drinks with Non-Date. It's funny becuase I decided to pump the 18-year-old freshmen for their unadulterated thoughts on my situation. One girl had some very poignant ideas. I was shocked when she said 'If you want [Non-Date] to get the friend vibe, make sure you both pay for your own drinks.' Hm. Good idea. And that's exactly what I did.

We went Dutch all the way. I used the noun 'bud' a lot in reference to Non-Date and referred a lot to my ex in an affectionate manner. I think Non-Date got the idea, but I've received another invite for dinner. On a weekend night. Ugh!

As a result of my impending date with the hot British research scientist (Brains! Accent! Fit!), I am now officially on the Rosa Cha diet (see Image 8 of Page 5). I believe this diet consists of:

Morning cigarette
Protein bar for breakfast
Coffee #1
Coffee #2
Afternoon cigarette
Salmon steak
Coffee #3
Pre-dinner cigarette
2-hour workout
Can of tuna + Protein bar

OK, so I won't be on that exact regiment. But I'm determined to crack down. Trust me, the hot BRS is worth it. One word: ACCENT (forget the brains). Joke.

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Monday, September 19, 2005

Dates, Non-Dates and Dealbreakers

Happy Monday. Fashion Week is over, so I have to find some other ridiculousness on which to harp.

Drone's weekend wasn't too eventful; however, there are moments of note.


The Date:

Had another horrible date with another horrible individual. The estimation 'horrible' has nothing to do with the person's physical appearance (for once) but rather the verbal vomit that sprang forth from said date's mouth. Key pieces of conversation revolved around my date's apparently suicidal roommate who is on disability from work becuase of an accident that confines said roommate to a chair.

Said the date, 'My roommate never leaves the apartment!'

Thought the Drone, 'Well. The guy is on disability.'

Said the date, 'He never wants to go out.'

Thought the Drone, 'Again. He is on disability.'

Said the date, 'My roommate told me he wanted to commit suicide. So I lied and said that I'd be really upset if he did anything to hurt himself.'

Returned the Drone, 'Well, you didn't lie really. I mean, you wouldn't be happy if he hurt himself.'

Said the date (for real), 'Well. I would get the apartment.'

[Drone's inner jaw drops]

Yeah, so the date was a real winner. The conversation that had me packing (the icing on the cake, if you will) revolved around my iPod mini. Date asked what it was. Seriously. As if to say, 'What is this strange metallic blue piece of machinery before me?' I mean, most people who live in New York and haven't been stuck under a dead body or a pile of refuse for the past three years are expected to know what an iPod is, right?

'Is that like a computer?'
'Uhm. Sort of. It's a dedicated portable music player. It's really great.'
'Do you need a computer to use it?'

I won't bore you with how I literally explained to the date how an iPod works and the concept behind the product. Didn't know that an iPod was. When I told Gina this story, she rightly asked, "Does this person ever interact with people??" To which I responded, 'Date's a therapist.' Yeah. Figure that one out.

The Non-Date

So, tonight should be interesting. After class, I'm having a drink with one of my ex's friends. And now for the explanation.

I, as is the rest of the free world (unless you're the Date who doesn't know what an iPod is), am on Friendster. One day, perusing my ex's profile, I saw a few friends of the ex- that I remembered meeting and thinking were cool. So I invited a few of them to be my friends on my profile. All of them said yes and one of them started emailing me via Friendster. So this friend T. brought it to my attention that I go to night school near T's place.

'Let's get a drink after class next week.'

Hm. OK. Couldn't hurt. Sure. I'll need booze after my class anyway, so why not have company. However, the more I thought about it the more I thought that T. was asking Drone out on a date. I got a few E-mails that were something along the lines of, 'Can't wait. Really looking forward to it.' Yadda yadda. Uh oh. Sticky. Ex's friend. Visions of The OC. Ah!

After consulting with friends, I decided to send ex C an E-mail just saying that I'd be hanging out with T for a friendly drink and that's it. Not a date. No response from C. Hm.

Tonight's the night to find out what's on T's mind. I'll push the friend card as hard as I'm able, but when booze is involved I can't promise anything. T is seriously cute... but no. NO. C's friend. No way. Waaa. Awkardsville.

The Dealbreakers

At the request of Gina, I am now going to attempt to lay down specific things about potential mates that disqualify them from the Drone running. It was on our way to brunch on Sunday that I recounted the iPod therapist Date story to G. It was then that G requested I make a list of things that are dealbreakers (i.e., elements or acts that make me want to run screaming from a date or relationship) for me, personally. The only specification was that each item must be something that has happened or presented itself to Drone (i.e., it's a dealbreaker that's based on experience). This will not be exhaustive because my list of dealbreakers isn't so much a list as it is a scroll. Second only to the Dead Sea Scrolls in terms of sheer length and volume. To begin, in no particular order:

1. Bad teeth (crooked, pointy, yellow, etc.);
2. Bad breath;
3. Not knowing what an iPod is(!);
4. Giving a card to Drone saying 'May this always remind you of the night we met' on our third date;
5. Actors (ok, not all actors, but I've yet to be proven wrong on this one);
6. Models (see #5);
7. Huge ear lobes;
8. Wearing shirts that are too tight;
9. Uttering the phrase 'badda bing' at any time;
10. Saying you're 5'10" when you're 5'6";
11. Living with three roommates that smoke pot and offer Drone coke while smoking pot;
12. Bad kisser;
13. Your jaw makes a clicking sound when we kiss;
14. Your jaw seems to unhinge like a boa constrictor when we kiss;
15. Being so skinny that your hip bone scrapes me in bed;
16. You just moved to New York a week ago (read: needy and clingy!);
17. Use big words for the sake of using big words;
18. Utter grammatically incorrect phrases more than 10 times in one sitting;
19. Wonky eyes (see Paris Hilton);
20. Tell me how fat you are when you're not.

Top 20 for now... but I, as I'm sure you too, could go on...

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Friday, September 16, 2005

Office Space

It's about time!

Move over, Dilbert. 3-D in effect.

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Catwalk and the City

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Check out this awesome British site that stops Londoners in their fashion tracks to complement their awesome fashion sense. Yeah. Awesome fashion... For me to poop on! [Click "Previous Day" for endless enjoyment.]

Oh, Brits. Keep to your awesome cuisine... I mean, keep to your awesome culture... I mean, keep to your cool accents and leave fashion to us New Yorkers. Thanks. [Thanks to A for introducing me to this little nugget.]

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Thursday, September 15, 2005

Working 9 to 5

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Seriously, you guys. Modeling is, like, totally a hard job!

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Oh, yeah. That's a PSP... that model Natasha Poly probably got for FREE from here. And the injustices just never end!

Aside from dodging stray stage lights falling from the sky, I think modeling's a pretty damn easy assignment given to genetic lottery winners. Cry me a river.

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Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Fashion Week continues...

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"Pst. Roland? Your clothes are good, but they're not THAT good."

So, my friend M. and I survived last night's fashion week party. Let me just start off by saying that having a connection at the door is the only way to go. Seriously. No lines. No hassles. No BS. Just a hug hello, a wave of the arm, and Drone and M were on their merry ways in.

The party seemed like it would be really hot, as there was a huge crowd outside and you had to take a secret elevator to get to the party. Once the elevator unloaded on the floor of the SoHo loft where the party was, we enetered a fully B-list crowd carrying their Red Bull infused drinks. B and even C-listers as far as the eye could see. There was Quddus from MTV [chortle]. And even Nole Marin, who you might remember as the former judge from America's Next Top Model with the freaky little dog. (Awww, how cute: it's the kinder version of my predictions... good for "Kidz World".) Incidentally, G and I spotted current ANTM judge Nigel Barker whilst having brunch a week back. Damn, come to think of it, we've seen most of the cast and crew from that show. Sweet. Aaaaanyway.

The party definitely made me feel good about myself, I have to say. I was probably one of the tallest people there and didn't really feel outclassed by any awesomely interesting people. Waiter? Gimme the B-listers and a side of ego boost over an A-list crowd ANY day. Heh.

One of the downsides of the party was that it was sponsored by Red Bull. I went to the open bar to request a vodka/soda when I was informed that the bar had no "soda, tonic, or traditional mixers." So basically EVERY drink had to include Red Bell (sugarfree or regular). Blech. The only saving grace was the we could smoke (albeit discreetly) indoors. Plus, it was free so I couldn't really complain. I stayed until about 1 and then headed home like the good Drone that I am.

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Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Three cheers for Fashion Week

Well, folks. Fashion Week is well under way here in NYC. All the media whores (read: Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton) are out at NYC's finest (read: most fashionable) restaurants, just waiting to be seen and heard.

My ex C was actually at one of the above-referenced eateries this past Saturday night and ate next to both Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton. A paparazzo's wet dream. And mine. Damn it! Get out there and you too might feel inadequate and unpopular next to celebrities and models. Sweet.

I'm going to a lame fashion-related post party tonight, myself. I say it's lame because here's the reason I'm getting in. My lawyer friend has a friend that works for the PR firm for said magazine and will be literally sneaking us in. If Kathy Griffin's on the D-List, then Drone and his friends must be on the F-List. Who cares? Free booze on a Tuesday night? I'm in.

Fashion-related side note: Am I the only one who thinks that runway model Lisa Cant...

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...looks a lot like Rory Gilmore (aka Alexis Bledel) from The Gilmore Girls??

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You can't spell insane without inane

As promised, what follows is a little morsel from yesterday's events. So, I'm coming back from lunch, all chipper and whatnot when I see the blinking red light on my company phone indicating that I have a message. I almost always get a little bit grumpy when I see the blinking red light because it means that I have to attend to something for which I wasn't planning (usually). Did somebody say, 'control freak?' Just a skosh.

OK, so let's go straight to the audio tape:

Hello, Drone. This is Snippy Sounding Assistant from Your Psycho Ex-Boss's Office. I'm calling with an extremely urgent matter. I was instructed by Your Psycho Ex-Boss to call you directly at work. Apparently, there is an outstanding credit at a local Puma-Nike-Reebok-Footlocker-esque type store issued to you that must immediately be transferred to Psycho-Ex Boss. You can either go to the store and speak with manager or fax me a written statment authorizing the transfer of this credit to Psycho Ex-Boss along with a copy of your driver's license. Please call me at your soonest convenience. I apologize for any inconvenience.

Please pause for a minute with me and consider the facts:

*I did not tell my former employer where I decided to seek refuge in my current employ. For this exact reason. I knew my former boss was far too egomaniacal to believe that any former employee could survive without him, so I decided I'd rather cut all ties and not let him hound me for whatever inane reason with my new contact information. That didn't stop him, though. He called me at least twice on my personal cell phone... after I had quit... to ask me absurd and ridiculously inane things about the operation of his own office. Things that he clearly knew himself or could figure out within the company. I knew in my heart of hearts that he was dying to know where I had accepted new employ and would stop at nothing to find out. That's just the kind of basketcase he is . So I chose not to return his phone calls. Nonetheless, he literally tracked me down like a stalker ex-boyfriend (or some freakishly absurd analogy of which you can think on your own) at my new job. He used this 'outstanding credit' as an excuse to find me. And bravo to him, he did.

*'How did he find my direct number?,' I wondered. Turns out, if you call the main number of my company and have my name, then the operator will direct your call to my voicemail but will not give out the direct number. So that's what happened. AGAIN. I did NOT tell my former boss where I went. He guessed the company and told his assistant to call it and ask for me. His hunch paid off. FREAK!

*This credit? Oh, this credit. This credit represents one of the many unethical and inane personal errands I had to run for my former boss. One of the many ice cream runs, babysitting of children, driving personal vehicles to and from parking garages, delivering personal laundry, and charging of personal items to my boss's corporate credit card (because he didn't feel like he should have to pay for them himself) that I was forced to do at the whim of my former boss. Seriously, if someone would just look at his finances and how they affect the company for even a second, I'm sure he'd be gone at the order of the CFO. Anyway. It was my job one fine day to run to the Puma-Nike-Reebok-Footlocker-esque type store to get a pair of designer running shoes for my boss... as a personal errand. He decided he didn't like them. So I had to take them back and get a credit. Unfortunately, this store's polocy only allows an issuance of a credit to the human being standing before them (i.e., Drone). So, there's this credit... FOR $76.04!!! 76 dollars and 4 cents, people. With Drone's name on it, and former boss wants his name on it. As a matter of extreme urgency.

*Folks, this former boss might as well make a billion dollars a year in salary. I mean, aside from his massive (unjustifiable, in my opinion) salary this former boss abuses company money for his own personal gain like I've never seen. I'm hesitant to get reimbursed for a taxi cab ride, even when it's completely within the guidelines of 'business expense.' This man uses any full-fledged employee (read: NOT PERSONAL ASSISTANT) who's scared enough to run his personal errands and charge personal items on company money for him... on company time. He's pretty much the definition of unethical and, worse yet, thinks himself far beyond reproach. To make a long story short, many of my friends (after hearing my laundry list of inane stories when I worked there) encouraged me to read The Devil Wears Prada. Not only did reading that book make me see that the antagonist WAS my boss but that MY boss was in fact so. much. WORSE. No joke.

So. Back to me answering the blinking light and hearing the above-referenced message from Snippy New Assistant. I immediately called said assistant and imformed her first and foremost how incredibly unprofessional it was to have contacted me directly at work about such an inane matter, prefacing said matter with such a sense of urgency and emergency. After realizing it wasn't really her fault (after all, I know who she works for), I told her that I'd be happy to speak to a manager of the store if she could get the manager on the phone with me. But I refused to draft any letter or fax any of my personal identification to former psycho boss. So she did. She got the manager on the phone and I asked him to transfer the. 76 dollars... and 4 cents. Over to my crazy ex-boss. Done. Put to bed. Buh bye. Ugh.

But, seriously. Cra. ZY. I am still pretty livid about this whole thing. This person has the audacity to contact me at work (after stalking me!) and demand an immediate transfer of $76.04 (again, he makes more than most of us will ever hope to earn, annually) from Drone that represents an unethical personal purchase, purchased on company time with company money.

Phew. That was cathartic. Just beware of the crazies, my friends.

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Monday, September 12, 2005

Coming soon...

Sorry, ladies and gents. Today's been busy, so my Monday morning recap will come manana. I will also recount for you something utterly unbelievable that happened today... and it involves my former boss desperately trying to track me down at my job via telephone... and actually succeeding. One word: psycho. No, two: psycho freak.

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Friday, September 09, 2005

Dogs Rule, Cats Drool

'Nuff said.

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Gone Fishin'

In so many ways and senses of the phrase...

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Take Me On [Take On Me]

So the most recent 'big push' at work is kind of over. Yesterday was a busy day, and everything went pretty well. As a result, my coworkers and I went for drinks at 4PM. Three vodka sodas later, and I was jogging to make my second date with cool R.

I met cool R through G: a non-set-up set up, if you will. Lucky for me, it actually was a great introduction. So I met R for drinks and steamed mussels on the Lower East Side. Like a drunken fool, I once again opted to throw caution to the wind on a work night and stay out as late as I wanted. Turned out to be 2:15 when I got home. Not too obscene considering the Sunday night 5AM-ers I've been pulling pretty regularly (lately).

The funniest aspect of the evening was when R and I were saying adios for the night. Outside a bar, R and I saw a pretty awesome looking 1981 Corvette that someone had completely tricked out. Not only was the 'vette painted a shocking orange, but it was put atop a side muffler and raised on dubs (Ed. note: I love the fact that we here at Drone Command Central found the slang definition of 'dubs' on the DIY Network's website. Phat). This car was so awesome that it garnered attention from many bar goers who were outside smoking. One fine gentleman proclaimed that, 'Anyone who drives a car like that is a douche bag.' I couldn't really disagree even though I really did like the car for its oddity. However, one fine drunken girl piped up (in that all too familiar I'm-about-to-fall-over-I'm-so-drunk-slur), 'No way, man! I love this car! If I drove this car, would I be a douche?!' The fine gentleman simply replied, 'Yes, you would.' Touche.

So anyway, I took it upon myself to play a little cat and mouse with the girl. She turned out to be from Milwaukee. I simply could not resist, so I whipped out my digital camera and cajoled the Wisconsin-ite to pose White Snake style in front of the car. Which she JUMPED at the chance to do. Cla. SSIC. I do in fact have photographic evidence of this and will try to post it ASAP. Truly priceless. Then, in an interesting turn of events, date R was being forced by the Milwaukee girl to try on her wedding ring while Milwaukee girl then regaled us wih how her six year marriage has been hard work and is not a 'fairy tale.' That's when I realized the fun was over. Check please! Giving back the wedding bands, R said adios and I returned the favor. It was a great date and I'm going to meet up with R on Sunday for some grub. Phat. Thanks for the introduction, G.**

Speaking of Gina, I must briefly address what recently happened to my best bud. In short, her parents discovered her blog and... uh... brought that fact to her attention via telephone. Now, when I was told the news, I instantly put myself in G's shoes. My mind instantly went to the posts that I've written here about which I might... quiver to even THINK of THINKING about in the presence of my parents. Needless to say, my jaw dropped when I heard the news. Gina has had some pretty awesome life experiences here in New York and abroad. As have I. However, many of these experiences include alcohol consumption and cigarette puffing: neither of which activities my parents would like to address nor approve. I guess I don't really have a direction in terms of my address; however, I would like to say that what does not kill us only makes us stronger. Keep on keepin' on, G.

**Correction! I would also like to thank awesome E for introducing me to cool R. It is actually E's friend who I met. It was G who first introduced me to awesome E maybe four years ago. So, G, E, R, and Drone were at the initial non-set-up set up drink. Much love to E.

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Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Please pardon our dust...

My apologies, Drone loyalists. Work is really really really busy. It will be until Thursday night. So, please expect a lengthy post before the end of business on Friday.

Things to look forward to:

*Drone's good date that was set up through friends.
*Drone's impending alcoholism... the drinking saga continues.

In the meantime, please peruse my bud Gina's site. She pretty much wrapped up my weekend on her blog and has also had some... interesting developments as of late. Enjoy.

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Thursday, September 01, 2005

Farewell S 'N L

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Here we have (from left to right) L, Drone, Cool Brooklyn, and S at the farewell party. It actually was a lot of fun, despite the fact that it was a Tuesday and I was wasted against my better judgement. Ho hum.

So last night was my first Wednesday night class. First of all, the teacher shows up twenty minutes late. Second of all, upon calling roll this 80-year-old shrew encountered a roster sheet with, God forbid, TWO "Theresa"s. She insisted that the second Theresa call herself something else. Uhm. OK. So, kindly enough, Theresa #2 agrees to be called Christina (it was apparently her middle name). Moving on, the teacher comes upon another Christina! Heavens to Betsy!! What will we do??? I was looking around the room for reactions to make sure I wasn't going crazy, because I thought the teacher's behavior was ridiculous. There can't be TWO PEOPLE with the same name? Why? What on EARTH could be the rationale other than you're senile and won't be able to remember the difference between two like-named individuals? Ugh. Well, judging by the reaction of my fellow classmates, I must've been crazy because noone else batted an eye. Thank God there weren't two "Drone"s.

So I can already tell that this teacher and I will not get along. She's old and pretty much a battleaxe. Thinks she knows everything and was already harshly criticizing peoples' skills and abilities. Can't wait for this one. Gooh. Why am I subjecting myself to this again?

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