Mr. Bossman's favorite treat

So it’s official.  Bossman and I have survived a year together.

I know!  I was just as shocked.

I feel as if something so monumentos deserves a longer post…yet at the same time I don’t want to jinx anything.

So, Mr. Bossman, here’s to a year that was full of learning, trials, tears and laughter.  Through it all we’ve managed not to kill each other and even semi-like each other…and considering the 6 who went before me…that is quite a feat.

Mr. Bossman's favorite drink

Here’s to another one!

www.thefrisky.com

My suitmate and I just may have stumbled across a tresure left abandonded so heartlessly in an elevator…

We may or may not have swiped it and given it a new home…(as our Office Boyfriend)

It may or may not have sparked quite a bit of afternoon amusement.

Here’s what we found…

zac a.k.a Office Boyfriend

Oh you know you’re jealous.

We may or may not have spent the next hour updating our facebook, twitter, posing for photos, and planning what to do with him.  I mean we do Very Important Work so it was a struggle to find time to drag our enamored eyes from files to play kissy face. (While both our bosses were out of the office.)
Either way…here are some of the amusing conversations that followed me emailed the photos to a few friends.

Convo I

VV:  My office boyfriend…

AM (my new roomie as of this weekend): WOW!!! I love it- you two are such great couple- he is cute…see if you can snag him for our place- like when people walk right in..there’s sexy Zac..or if one of us feels lonely- we’ll take him to bed with us…ha,ha..

Convo II

VV: My new office fling….

SW: Is that the High School Musical kid?

VV: Yeah.  He was abandoned on the elevator and in need of a home…so we decided to help.  It’s provided quite a bit of amusement over the past 2 hours.

SW: I bet. But he obviously wanes in his pleasure providing, since someone else ditched him after their few hours of entertainment. I’ll take him after that. I can call some of the warehouse guys gay when they look at him.

VV: You’ll have to get in line…
My suitemate wants him to attend all office functions…
AM wants him to move in…
DF’s daughter would give him the “World’s Best Dad” award if he brought Zac home…
We’ll have to see where the dust settles.

SW:  Okay. I’ll save offending gays until the end. I have a big Alex the lion from Madagascar poster we  could trade….

VV:  Cutout for a poster…?
Hottie Zac Efron for a wacky lion who was given voice by Ben Stiller?
No thanks.  You can keep your poster.

SW:  Damn. I was hoping you’d always secretly lusted after a cartoon lion. Back to square one…

VV:  The only cartoon I’ve ever lusted after was Wolverine…all due to a Xbox game.
Don’t judge.  You never saw how quickly he could regenerate.

senatus.wordpress.com

M-6 at 131 Interchange at 4:00pm. Black VW – m4w

I gave you a hand gesture. Your passenger gave me one also.
I would like to meet either or both of you sometime.
Tell me what the gestures were and let’s see where it goes.

Dear CL Missed Connections,

Thank you for bringing little gems like these to brighten up my work day.

Love,

VV

I had to walk to the SOS today to renew my tags.  Over the course of 20 mins I expierenced the following.

1.  Hit on by a delivery guy

2.  Saw a homeless man who had collasped on the street.  (The ambulance was arriving as I walked onto the scene…I’m not heartless.)

3.  Found a dollar.

I’m not sure if I should play the lottery or go hide under my covers.

*Whew*  What a week.  I survived…but eek!  Only 2 more days to accomplish my goal.  And what with drinks to be had with friends, christmas decorations to make, Christmas trees to cut down, French Toast to be consumed, shopping to be done…it’s not looking promising.  Oh, let’s be honest.  I can find the time if I want….but *sigh*…having one more would be a good time too.

At least there was a surprise when I came into my office this morning!  Homemade Greek Treats!!!!

I do not claim to be a computer whiz.  Like at all.  I have a basic understanding…and a good friend in Google.  Oh the things you can learn by typing things into that magic little box!  (P.S. Don’t type in “saucy” for images.  Apparently my version of the definition is different than Google’s.)

Preface 2:

Mr. Bossman is well traveled.  His favorite destination is grand ‘ole Paree.  He loves to expound on it’s virtues, wax eloquent about his many trips, and randomly drop French phrases and stare at me as if I suddenly learned to speak French in the past 3 minutes.

Preface 3:

A friend of mine recently introduced me to Keren Ann who is amazing and who sings partially in French.  So naturally I assumed that my boss might like her.

Preface 4:

My boss is hopelessly confused by technology.  He refuses to text because “it takes too long”.  He brags about how he can make playlists in iTunes. (Yes, and you are ambulatory too.  Everyone applaud!) And I have to show him how to copy and paste at least once a week.

The Story: (you can image where this is going I’m sure)

I hand the CD to my boss and explain (briefly) who Keren Ann is.  I verify yes, Keren Ann, not Karen Akers.  I then think to tell him.

V: “Oh, and you can’t play it in your CD player.  It has mp3 files on it.”

B:  “Well, then, how do I listen to it?”

Clearly he’s puzzled by my rapid fire explanation of an mp3 file.

V: “Just download it to your iTunes and listen to it on your computer.”

(Sighing mentally. Because I know, of course, this isn’t going to go well)

B:  “What’s iTunes?”

I stop and just stare at him for a second trying to wrap my brain around the question.

V:”Umm.  You know the program you use to put music on your iPod?”

His face relaxes at the recognition of a word.

V:  “Well, just open your iTunes, put the CD in and it should ask you if you want to download it to you iTunes”

(sidenote: the man uses the term “download” for everything.  If he prints a document he says he’s “downloading” it.  I’ve stopped trying to correct him.)

B:  Staring at his computer screen.  “Do I have iTunes on here?”

V: I sigh.  “Yes.”  (I had just opened it last week to explain to him how he could change the order of songs in an album.  He had put a new novel in his iTunes at home and the chapters were backwards)  I point at the icon on his screen.  His first double click fails to be quick enough.  “Here.  Let me do it.”  A few clicks later, my teeth clenched, the melodious sounds of a woman’s voice filters through his speakers.

I exit the room to him gleefully translating her French titles into English.

My boss?

A dirty old man?

A wealth of information?

Quick wit?

A kind heart?

Bossman is the guy I work for (obviously)…and of an advanced age.  This past Friday he had outpatient surgery.  Apparently the weekend (and this morning) was rough so he took a substantial amount of pain killers.

Ah, what a peaceful Monday morning.  No tutorials in the mysteries of the new confounding world of technology.  No patient retrievals of objects misplaced.  No long reminders of information and tactful corrections.  Bliss, pure bliss.

Then the pain killers wore off.  The haze faded…and the mouth regained motion.

B: “Do you have more shit on your face?”

V:  “More what?  Oh, yes, I’m wearing more eyeshadow than usual.”

B:  “I guess I could have phrased it better.”

V:  “What, than shit?  What could be more complimentary than that?”

B:  “So what’s with the new look?  Hot date tonight?” (Bossman is always prodding for details of my social life.)

V: “Nope.  Just seemed like a morning for makeup” (i.e., I wasn’t running late.  But I don’t see that bit of information being useful here.)

B: “Is that new hair too?  Highlights?”

V: “Yeeesss…”(I look at him as if he’s grown another head)

B:  “Shocked you didn’t I?  I notice everything.  Drives my wife nuts. ” (I’ve met her.  She’s a saint.)

I nod my head.  My fingers clicking over the keys.  Bossman successfully pulls the file and heads back to his office.

B: “Hey, here’s your song!” (Bossman and I share a mutual love of jazz)

I perk up my ears, waiting for soothing strains.  Instead I hear the nasal, twangy strains as a country singer warbles “we should get drunk and screw”.  I sigh.  Sitting mutely at my desk, resisting the urge to take the bait, I wonder how long I’d do in the slammer if they ever found I switched his powdered creamer for ground up vocodin.