Dear Sinisterines, Today is one of those maddening days when every office cliche seems to be coming true. Having slept poorly (at least that's my excuse for today), I came in about forty-five minutes late. Usually I can slide in and thread my way to my desk without too much notice, but today I got stopped in the hall by a particularly perky Office Slave who tapped his watch, and with a sly Perma-Grin, commented, "Well, guess you're not the early bird getting the worm this morning, huh?! O, well-- it's almost Friday!" Is getting a worm supposed to be an incentive? Also, it's irritating how we're always in the midst of a countdown to Friday, which begins on Monday. No one seems to know what day it actually is-- it's always ___ days til Friday. So then I got back to my desk, and the radio had already been claimed by an office mate. There is a covert radio war going on in my office, which is the size of a small bedroom, but contains five desks and a long "workstation," which is actually a euphemism for "place on which to pile up random crap." On this particular morning, the radio was tuned to an especially soulful R&B station. It always amazes me how many syllables can be contained in one line of an R&B song. For instance, the line, "You are so pretty, girl," (an actual line contained in numerous songs I've heard since 9:15) can be extended to actually contain thirty-five syllables, most of which are in the word "girl." In addition, each syllable has a different note, as the singer's voice travels up and down the range with reckless abandon. It's horrid! However, I suppose I should be grateful that the office Metal Head did not stake her claim on the radio. Those times are the worst. I can't even hear myself think over the drums and screeching guitars, which are puntuated by inane commentary by the djs, who usually make at least one reference to various parts of the female anatomy. Sometimes I am lucky, and everyone else will be out or arrive later than me, and I will get the radio all to myself, and I will play B&S to my heart's content! It's funny-- we never talk about the radio war, and no one ever mentions that they despise the other people's musical taste. We just carry on, and jump at our chances when we have them. Although my supervisor did once make a comment that went like this, "I always know when Katie has the radio, because there's always something weird playing." That seems uncalled for! Last week, I mentioned to dear Rachel Fruitloop that I am undertaking the goal of having more fun, especially mid-week. I am finding it more and more necessary to break up the monotony of the workweek. Last night, i did so by having dinner with two very close friends. It was lovely, because we walked to a little restaurant that was lit entirely by strings of white lights and candles, and we ate good food and drank good wine and laughed and laughed. One of those times that are so sublimely wonderful that you almost remove yourself from it for a moment, and think, "My god, I'm HAPPY!" It was lovely, and much-needed. I hope that you are all doing well, and have some sublime moments of your own today. Love, Katie (Cheeriodle, Honorary Rachel-- ready to do Mix-Tape Battle!) P.S.-- Only two days til Friday. Or so I hear. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+