my boss sent me an email over the weekend asking if i could help draft a letter to henry louis gates, because if he spoke at our banquet that would be such a coup.
HMMM. A COUP YOU SAY? NO KIDDING.
but, you know, i wanted to say, people like this have speaker agents for a reason. and an eloquent letter ain't gonna land henry louis gates.
you give me $15 grand, and i'll write the perfect letter.
god, how do you even begin? ugh.
i mean, it's not like i'm just going to say, 'sorry, charlie. i ain't wasting no time writing some fantasy request to henry fucking louis fucking gates fucking junior. there ain't no words gonna get him to come speak to our chicken/fish luncheon at the holiday inn. i am sorry, but SORRY.'
so i wrote a letter to henry louis gates, junior, trying my very best to convince him to honor us with his presence because, you know, think of the children.
and so it was a bit awkward today at our annual staff retreat. especially when our boss said, 'OKAY. NOTHING IS OFF THE TABLE. WHATEVER IT IS THAT WILL MAKE YOU MORE PRODUCTIVE, I THINK WE SHOULD PUT IT UP ON THE FLIP CHART.'
and of course she went to the restroom at that very moment, and a co-worker says, "MY BROTHER-IN-LAW HAS A FRIEND WHOSE COUSIN WORKS AT A DOT COM WHERE EVERY FRIDAY THEY HAVE BEER ON TAP.' and the facilitator takes her sharpie and writes 'BEER.'
my boss arrives soon after and looks at me. and i am all, 'HEY, IT WASN'T ME!' and she says, 'SUUURE.'
later, we were talking about pending deadlines, and i said, 'ARTIFICIAL TIMELINES ONLY SERVE TO HELP THE ENEMY OF DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ.'
i thought it was funny, anyway.
ps - she really liked the letter! and here is the secret to me: pay me a compliment and all my principles? OFF THE TABLE.
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8 comments:
This post is, as the rappers say, off the table.
Beer is always funny when it's written with no context.
Beer.
Ha!
Hello, Brandon.
it's not nearly as funny as blue footed booby, but funny, nonetheless.
blue footed booby.
i mean, COME ON.
You say "all my principles" as if that's plural or something. I miss the good ol' days where tequila was the only standard of measure.
The problem is keeping your principles on the table to begin with. How careless can you be?
At least put them in a jar, or on an underused shelf or some such.
There are but two perfect letters: U and I. Will you be my valentine?
God, I wish I was in Grade 2 again.
And that you were too.
And that you were that short girl with the curly hair.
And that you would hold me in your arms.
Pretending you were my mother.
While I sobbed in your lap.
With an erection.
Sorry, I didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable with the sobbing.
i was more uncomfortable with the throbbing.
summer, if only you knew how careless i could be. once, i left my principles outside, and of course it rained. another time i left them in a car on a hot day with the windows rolled up. once, i got drunk and passed out and when i woke up in a bathtub i realized someone had surgically removed them. you get the idea.
Henry Louis Gates called. He said to tell you that a drunken email is the way to his heart. Oh, and he said you suck.
I'm just passing the message along...
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