Rats!

Today it feels like there is not much to tell, which any normal person would take as a sign to spare everyone and not continue with this blog. However, I am far from normal--or at least just vain enough to think that having a good record of my thoughts will prove useful somewhere down the line when I'm writing the great American novel or whatever. Mostly I'm having my typical mixed feelings about work.

On the one hand, I love it. Especially because we're distributing one of the best movies ever, New York Doll. I am positively in love with this project, and think about it pretty much nonstop. If you havent seen this movie, please, please, please do (a little extra Smiths ref for the film fanatics out there). And I feel I can legitimately say it because I've hearted the movie for ages--long before we got the DVD rights.

Anyway, New York Doll and Excel are a great combo. But not all is right in my career world. Why not? Because my desk has basically turned into an outhouse. My company is infested with mice, and it's terrible. This is a problem we've been dealing with for months, and it still shakes me up. I hate rodents.

My first experience with the mice came in August. I was working late one evening, trying to get a bunch of press kits ready to mail before I took off for a vacation. I was fully prepared to stay as late as it took to get the formidable task behind me, and was making great progress. Suddenly, I heard something. It was a little freaky because I was alone, but I figured something fell against one of the cubicles. No big deal, I told myself. It wasn't five minutes later before the little beast RAN ACROSS MY FOOT--quite traumatic for someone wearing flimsy flip-flops, let me tell ya. I ran back to my desk, put my feet up on my chair, and emailed my boss, asking him if we could get someone to take care of the problem. As you might guess, nothing happened on the extermination front.

A couple weeks later, I came in early to work and turned on the lights in the hallway in time to see a nasty little mouse run into my coworker's office. He happened to be there, so I called down the hall to warn him. Amazingly, Jacob didn't seem at all concerned, and was not willing to kill it. Later, though, mean Jacob decided he'd trap it for his own devious schemes. With very little help from otherwise-masculine Brandon, mean Jacob corralled the mouse in a sticky trap, and before I knew it, the boys had put it on my desk (still alive!!) and I was screaming about catching the Janta virus (folks from New Mexico will understand the terror).

Anyway, we've had several close-encounters of the rodent kind since then, and most recently my otherwise immaculate desk has been littered with mouse-droppings and little yellow spots. Sick! Nothing like cleaning mouse poo off your desk every day. Our landlord was finally kind enough to leave poison under my desk, so I hope that rectifies the problem presently Hahahaha. Something about the word "rectify" in a poo discussion strikes me as funny. See, I told you I was childish! Uh childlike... Child-LIKE.

And if anyone is keeping track, you'll be happy to hear I'm going to the play with platonic Shawn (not that all the Shawns, Seans, and Shauns in my life aren't platonic, but as long as I'm using adjective-nicknames, I might as well go all the way-- for future reference I'll likely refer to engaged/wrestling-Sean, nice Sean--who is actually BSD's roommate, police-Shawn, and Shaun who made me the mix tape for my 18th birthday).

By the way, I hate that apostrophes, em-dashes, elipses, etc. don't translate without me doing weird editing. I promise, I do understand how to use correct punctuation (most of the time).