Cubicle Visit

Just call me Milton Waddams. In two months I've had five desks with two permanent moves. Big Boss jokes that I'll be moving again next week. No big deal because we're already in the basement. But, we'll have a real problem if a certain someone takes my stapler. You know who has already told on me multiple times because she has her eyes specifically on my stapler. 

The stapler in question. 

Let's celebrate the small things. I'm moving up in the world. I've got my own cubicle with a door. Here's the new work digs. 

The History of Fashion

Phaedra came out to the country plantation to spend the night with me. We went through one of my closets. She looked at all of my formal dresses. She tried on my hoop skirt. Trying to walk in it and sit down she realizes, "This is not for me. How did women wear this? I'd just wear pants. Why hoops?"

We took a moment for a history lesson of women's undergarments. 

Then we went through a couple of my photo albums from the 1990's. She looked at my awesome fashion choices, mainly overalls and socks. I explained that once overalls were in style and where I lived, the higher the socks the better, especially while out in the woods. She thought for a moment, "My socks are always hidden. If in 1998 you could have seen the fashion of today, would you still wear those ridiculous socks?"

Little does she know, I still own those ridiculously high socks. 

Phaedra, with the "proper face of a fancy lady" in the hoop skirt. 

Such a Lady

Oh my goodness! Did y'all see that woman in the KA fraternity parking lot this morning? She was shot gunning some sorta drink out of an aluminum can!  And then she nonchalantly walked in to work at Wilder Tower. 

Actually, that was me and I have an excellent excuse. Another Coke Zero can exploded in my car. I was forced to take drastic actions and revert back to my former behavior of wild college nights. 

Who am I kidding? I'm still in college. 

But, on the bright side I proved to myself this morning that, if I wanted to, I can still shot gun beverages from aluminum cans. 

I am such a lady. I bet my mom is proud. 

Tennessee Saturday Night

From the back patio at the cabin we are enjoying the live music coming from across Beech Creek. Upon J2's suggestion we take a walk to the dock in search of a better vantage point. With a cover of Hank Williams Jr's "Family Tradition" traveling across the creek we set out for the dock. 

A red and blue stage light flirts through the trees, but we cannot see any better when we make it to our vantage point. On the dock the music is as clear as if it were playing on satellite radio. While walking backwards J2 is sure footed. He is holding both of my hands to coax and guide me to stand on the floating dock. We get out to the end of the dock and he holds me close as we sway gently with the slip and the music, Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places." The still water begins to ripple. There we are, on a humid night in July, standing on the water, within sight of the Tennessee River, holding each other close. He leans down to kiss my forehead and we are slow dancing under the light of the full moon. 

Just another evening in paradise.

Earnestine & Hazel's

For the entire two years we have been dating The Silver Fox has made mention, "J2 never invites me to his gigs." 

"Mom! He's dating me, not you."

"We'll, he asked me to Mexico but I couldn't go so I suggested he take you instead."

I roll my eyes at her. If I let her know she's funny it'll just encourage her more. 

So, a couple of months ago when this next gig was booked J2 immediately invites my parents. The Silver Fox looks at me, "Didja hear that? J2 is taking me to a whore house." 

The venue, Earnestine and Hazel's, is a former brothel. How fitting the AdFed PlugIn gathers all of the Memphis advertisers, once a year, in a den of prostitution. 

Last night I remind my parents that the gig is tomorrow.

This morning, I wake up to this little gem, from The Silver Fox, tucked underneath my bedroom door. 

She's a riot!

Brownie for Breakfast

I keep thinking that it's totally awesome to be an adult. Like this morning, I devoured a brownie for breakfast. 

I was simply ecstatic and smug for inventing a "Brownie for Breakfast" song and dance. I rip open the package and immediately break off a moist piece. Like a Baywatch running scene I bring it to my mouth in slow motion. 

"Come to me you dark, little morsel," I whispered in anticipation of a flavor explosion. 

I'm salivating. I take a bite. 

A mouth full of imitation chocolate covering dirt. That damn diet brownie tricks me every time! 

To heck with being an adult! I demand to be 13 again with the ability to eat anything and everything I want. 

Fall in Public

I met J2 and a group of his high school friends for dinner at Belmont Grill. I place my camera bag on the back of my chair. I pull the chair out to sit. 

The next thing I know I'm on the floor and the chair is crashing on the floor behind me. One of J2's high school buddies is yanking on my right arm trying to pull me up. I'm dazed, but I keep repeating, "I'm sober. I swear, I'm sober." His friend is still yanking on my arm. I don't understand why my ass is hurting and I'm on the dirty bar floor. 

Even though I've been trying to pull free the friend is still yanking on my arm. I have a herniated disc in my spine, I have to get myself up, I could hurt myself worse, "Let go! I'm sober. I've gotta do it by myself."

My back is killing me and spasming but my ego is still butt-hurt. So, I guess I've recovered. 

Like I always say, there's nothing funnier than a fat girl falling.