/edit: For some reason, I deleted the first half of this when I first posted it. So here is it, in its entirety. [My most recently sent email to Sanam, who is spending her week on the East Coast so her boyfriend can have an interview for some Yale Art thing and so she can not be at work for a week. Edits and clarifications in brackets.]
A[nnoying]C[oworker]: "I will be at Lennar for a meeting, but I will be back. Hopefully! Ha!" Me: Smirks. Evily.
I have heard much about the tasti-de-lite but have little desire to try it. A little too chemical, perhaps? A little Too good to be true, in the vein of Olestra?
[In response to Sanam's admission of regret for not working hard enough to attend an Ivy League school.] Seriously, why in the world would you want to go to an Ivy League? I mean, aside from the doors it opens once you're out, those places are hell. They try to make you believe that an Ivy League education is the only education worth having and everyone else is just shit, which is what's wrong with this world: that people feel they can judge someone based on their education when indeed you can only judge people based on their shoe selection. Who the hell did you talk to for 45 minutes about Wisconsin? Was it a student? Also? That proves my point: that these people think they can make it, or don't have to try as hard as everyone else to make it because they made it through an Ivy League school, but they don't really know what they want out of life. They only know what they're supposed to want. I mean, that's true of everyone, but especially of Ivy Leaguers; did you genuinely want to study with the professors of Harvard or did you just want the degree? Education is less where you studied and more how hard you studied -- you can learn just as much at a city college as you can at Brown, but at the latter you'll be more required to prove it. Those people need their teachers to push them along and force them to think about shit; they have to have someone holding their hand, telling them what to contemplate and how hard. Our president is a prime example of an Ivy Leaguer who's stuck in the bubble of his own ignorance. Ob[viously].
I Am about to go insane. My eyes hurt for some reason. The phones, they will not stop with the ringing.
[In response to Sanam's desire to purchase a Yale-themed ashtray.] Awesome that they don't have ashtrays. You couldn't smoke anywhere on campus? People use ashtrays for reasons besides ashing. Like, a place to hold coins. And . . . spare safety pins.
[In response to Sanam's second-hand reports of her roommate having house-shaking sex:] Thank you for keeping me updated on the sex life of Holly. I thought I felt a mild earthquake last week; must have just been her. Also? With the EW NO THANK YOU PLEASE.
I was told by my neighbor that Fat Actress is awesome in a trainwreck sort of way. So catch it if you can, I guess. It's on Showtime.
Friend Samantha called last night drunk or stoned or shroomed out of her mind to tell me that she was hanging out with a high school acquaintance of ours (doubt he remembers me, WHICH IS GOOD CUZ HE SUCKS) who is in a band who is touring with the Decemberists who apparently are led by Petra something who was the lead singer that dog. I was jealous for a minute until I realized that I was way happier cuddled up in bed with the dog (as opposed to that dog) and the Daily Show than I ever will be drinking and hanging out with lame-o people ([+where all people are lame-={&this comment makes sense).
Omg, I was just asked to find someone who can do professional scrapbooking. [I was asked to create the scrapbook of pictures from the office's trip to New York but begged off for the reasons listed below the conversation but also, I have never scrapbooked before and don't they hold, like, conferences and classes for that sort of thing? So I told them I sucked at scrapbooking which I imagine is the truth.] Here is the conversation:
S[edit] (10:15:33 AM): hey morgan
mb[edit] (10:15:36 AM): what's up
S[edit] (10:15:44 AM): have you research the scrapbook thing
S[edit] (10:15:50 AM): i was thinking about it
mb[edit] (10:15:51 AM): crap
mb[edit] (10:15:54 AM): sorry, yesterday was ridiculous
S[edit] (10:15:56 AM): is there any one who can do it for us
mb[edit] (10:16:03 AM): by friday?
S[edit] (10:16:12 AM): no doesn't have to be friday
mb[edit] (10:16:18 AM): doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of the scrapbook? isn't the fun in making it?
mb[edit] (10:16:22 AM): (ha)
S[edit] (10:16:33 AM): but it might look more professional if we can get someone to do it
S[edit] (10:16:38 AM): no one has time
S[edit] (10:16:52 AM): and I'm not stoked on taking time to do it
mb[edit] (10:16:58 AM): seriously
mb[edit] (10:16:58 AM): ok
mb[edit] (10:17:01 AM): umm
S[edit] (10:17:01 AM): b/c i know it will take forever
S[edit] (10:17:13 AM): I really need you to research this today
S[edit] (10:17:35 AM): otherwise Sam and Sharon might think we are a bunch of ungrateful group
mb[edit] (10:18:13 AM): i'll see what i can do
A bunch of ungrateful group. Eloquent AND articulate? Since I can't bitch to her I will bitch to you: I did not go on this trip. I was asked not to go on this trip. Yes, I was given $200 for my troubles but everyone else was given a $2000+ vacation. The PURPOSE of a thank you gift is not the gift itself but rather the effort that goes into it; I am not thankful for the vacation that I did not get and apparently no one else is grateful enough for the trip that they can take an hour to print out some fucking pictures, buy a fucking scrapbook, and gluestick the fucking pictures into the fucking scrapbook. Heh. Fucking Scrapbook. As in, scrapbook of fucking. Now THAT would be a thank you gift. I wish I could get all high and mighty and go into a condescending, "I don't feel comfortable with the personal aspect of the work you are requesting of me" monologue but alas, I have not the nerve. GAH! I just felt a little corner of my soul being pulled through my nostril.
Having not met my snolling [snol is snort out loud, as opposed to lol. Sanam and I felt the need to clarify the level of laughter we were experiencing after feeling too disingenuous using lol all of the time.] quota for the week I beg of you COME HOME NOW,
Pouty McPout