The Imminent Threat of Small People

While I'm afraid of puppets, I'm not afraid of small people. Well, not all small people. But I am wary of them, especially ones that lurk and turn up in odd places, like behind you, or in the corner, or beneath your desk. There's a very small woman I work with who always seems to be lurking in the shadows, as though at any moment she'll spring and gnaw my ankles off with her tiny, razor sharp teeth. It's very disconcerting, especially because I have a tall desk, and most of the time, I can't actually see the top of her head over it, so I don't know where she is. She could be anywhere. Anywhere.

I'm hiding beneath your couch right now

Speaking of small evil people, Erin's mother is here for the weekend so it looks like I'll be going to Boston a week early. It's not that I don't want to be here to support Erin in her time of need, it's just that I'm afraid her mother might murder me and throw my body in the Potomac because I didn't vacuum well enough. Since I barely even know how to vacuum, I think it's going to be a problem. It's all very trying. Luckily we have hardwood floors at home, so I don't have to worry about things like that.

Another one of my neurotic fears is flying (although personally I think anyone that trusts planes not to blow up in midair or plummet from the sky is insane) so I'll be taking Amtrak for a leisurely, relaxing 8 hour trip. And, exciting enough, I'm taking an overnight train! So I get into Boston at 8am, and then start a very long two days of lots of shopping for pots and pans and bedding and furniture and whatever else it is that one needs to create a functioning apartment. Which is great, since if I was left to my own devices, I'd have enough money saved to buy a beanbag chair, a used pillow, and maybe a box of Ramen, if I panhandled a little bit outside of the closest Safeway.

My mother is very excited for me to come home so we can buy our new household goods and layout the apartment and do all those fun things. I think she's just so happy that I'm finally moving out for good, she's willing to do just about anything.

Jobs and Puppets and What-Have-You

First of all, let me say this: Jeff Dunham - no matter what Comedy Central says - is not a stand up comedian. No sane, amusing person plays with a horrifying gaggle of ventriloquist dolls. That is a profession purely taken up by serial killers, mass murderers, and people that eat human flesh.

Now you have seen the face of evil

That said, thankfully my day didn't consist of a madman sharing my flesh with his freakishly disproportioned puppets. I woke up this morning feeling particularly refreshed and happy, and sauntered over to the new apartment building to take a giant leap of faith and purchase an apartment without actually being gainfully employed (besides working temp for the feminists.) I think it was my new skirt, because it made my junk-in-the-trunk butt look great. Who says weight gain has to be a bad thing?

Anyway, I foolishly signed a lease, but in a freakish twist of luck - cause, you know, I've been a homeless, broke nomad without a job for most of the summer without any luck in sight - I ended up not only getting the lease approved immediately, but I got a job. Like, a real, full time, paying job (!)

I think my official title is something like Marketing and Legal Bitch, but who knows. I have a fabulous desk and since I am literally the only female in the office at the moment, I get to decorate with frames and plants and whatever it is that will keep all the men staring in confusion and wondering why women are so weird.

Whatever, as long as they're not bringing puppets to work, I'm good.