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dragonlady7This year is the first year Z and I have broken tradition.
Starting in '02, every Sept 11th we'd both come in late to work, and we'd sit at home together and have a huge brunch, with bacon and decadent things like hollandaise sauce. All kinds of fats, oils, greases. Heavy cream in the coffee.
We'd sit together and talk and laugh and eat ourselves silly.
Killing ourselves slowly with bacon and fat, in honor of those denied that opportunity.
Then we'd go into work and be productive little citizens.
This year, I have to be at work by 8:30, and I toyed briefly with the idea of coming in late, which I would probably be allowed to do, but one of my dealers had called last night saying he'd be phoning in an order and would I be in real early the next morning, and he's this guy from MA/RI, and while in real life he's probably some fat slob, over the phone he sounds about 24 and earnest and guileless and adorable with this absolutely great New England accent (his name's Rahb Cahlins) and I just can't be reasonable.
I have few weaknesses. I am not the sort whose head is turned by the conventionally attractive. Brad Pitt has always left me shrugging.
But, apparently, a rahhly eahnest New England accent over the phone ties me in knots.
I am slaving for your freedom, America. Freedom and really inexplicably cute accents.
(Another note of interest from the customer service front: Texans are super-polite on the phone if you're helpful at all.)
Starting in '02, every Sept 11th we'd both come in late to work, and we'd sit at home together and have a huge brunch, with bacon and decadent things like hollandaise sauce. All kinds of fats, oils, greases. Heavy cream in the coffee.
We'd sit together and talk and laugh and eat ourselves silly.
Killing ourselves slowly with bacon and fat, in honor of those denied that opportunity.
Then we'd go into work and be productive little citizens.
This year, I have to be at work by 8:30, and I toyed briefly with the idea of coming in late, which I would probably be allowed to do, but one of my dealers had called last night saying he'd be phoning in an order and would I be in real early the next morning, and he's this guy from MA/RI, and while in real life he's probably some fat slob, over the phone he sounds about 24 and earnest and guileless and adorable with this absolutely great New England accent (his name's Rahb Cahlins) and I just can't be reasonable.
I have few weaknesses. I am not the sort whose head is turned by the conventionally attractive. Brad Pitt has always left me shrugging.
But, apparently, a rahhly eahnest New England accent over the phone ties me in knots.
I am slaving for your freedom, America. Freedom and really inexplicably cute accents.
(Another note of interest from the customer service front: Texans are super-polite on the phone if you're helpful at all.)
