Bloody hell.

Dear Anonymous,

I'm so sorry to hear that you've been missing the tales spun here at the OOD. You see, I've been busy living in what is obviously the 3rd or 4th layer of hell. As you know, I left the OOD and am now currently employed at the HOOD (no, not Compton) but the Home Office Of Doom and it sucks. It sucks big time. The actually working from home doesn't suck completely but my "not boss" does suck and is fucking crazy. Is it possible that I'm a crazy magnet? I think it very well might be.

Correct me if I'm wrong here but when one is self-employed, HOOD style, can said "not boss" tell you how to do your job? Can the "not boss" dictate your schedule? Can the "not boss" tell you how much time can lapse prior to returning a phone call? And please tell me must the "not boss" call me 20 times a day to see if I've wiped my ass?

Doesn't that sort of violate the entire concept of being self-employeed? Am I paying my own taxes and benefits to still be bossed around by the "not boss" who is in fact acting like a boss!?!

Un-freaking-believable.

Thanks, Spike Lee.

Somebody at the OOD has been watching Do The Right Thing.

It's a blog. Don't take it so seriously - just figuratively.

So...my last day. It was good. It was a tiny bit sad but more than anything it was fun. Since I've been busting my ass for the past two weeks, my last day was pretty smooth sailing. Every thing I did was a last for me at the Office of Doom. Even the last trip to the OOD ladies room was an event. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I thought wow, this is the last time I'll be here. I know it's silly. But I've been there for EIGHT years, people. That's a long time.

The 5 o'clock whistle blew one last time for me at the OOD and my fellow Doomers and I strolled out the door to my farewell party. Everyone was so sweet. Especially Splenda which is a little ironic. She was the sweetest of them all these last two weeks. She even made me her famous dish to eat one last time just for me and she got me a card and a box of chocolates.

We went to the restaurant where Doomers go to end their OOD careers for a party. Even Napoleon showed up which was surprising. He seemed very sincere to say what a good job I've done and that he would miss me. Awe. So sweet. Why do the wait until you are out the door to be nice? It would have been nice of PAB to make a toast but he didn't.

The real surprise was when I opened the goodbye card signed by all the Doomers and the farewell gift. Yes, a gift! Hold onto your pants! PAB splurged on an iPod Shuffle! I couldn't believe it because he's always so darn tight with his money which he fully displayed for everyone when he complained about the $1.25 per Doomer cake plate charge the restaurant would give if we ate the cake they brought. To avoid further awkwardness, Loca chimed in that she would pay for the plate fee since PAB was making such a scene. I said, "No. You will not. The Office of Doom will pay for it. I've given them 8 years and the least they can do is pony up $10 to eat the cake you bought." Because, seriously what the hell am I going to do with an entire cake? (My name was spelled wrong too. Really? 8 years folks, get it right.) PAB didn't dare protest so we had our cake. Everyone shared their funniest memory of me and you know, it was a really sweet send off. Even Violet showed up! It was perfect.

Now, my new adventure begins. I slept in a little late this morning and I think I'll enjoy my Friday which means I'll be cleaning. I hope you all have a fantastic weekend and stay tuned for tales from the all new Home Office of Doom!

The first step to recovery

is admitting you have a problem.

Or something like that..

I'm obviously a lunatic. Here I've been all these years bitching and moaning about the OOD and today I make an internal decision to resign (tomorrow) and accept previously mentioned job at Snoozefest and what the hell did I do all day? Cry about it. Yes, folks I'm a moron and a baby. Of course, nobody at the OOD even knew I was crying because they all live in fucking cocoons - except for Chatty who has been super duper supportive and kept me from going all crazytown. I prolonged making the decision for as long as I could this morning (the terrible-decision-making officianodo here) until finally when Snoozefest boss lady called me up to find out my answer. "Ok, I guess I'll take the job" I said. Ok, I tried to feign more excitement thaen that but in my HEAD that is what I'm saying. Snoozefest boss lady - man, I've got to come up with a better name - was so nice. I am talking really nice with her, "I'm so happy to have you on board" and "You are going to be great here" and "I know this was a big leap for you but it is going to be ok". Nice lady.

So why am I so cou-cou for cocoa puffs? My husband - poor thing - has listened to me flip and flop with the 'I don't knows'...'Is this the right move for me?' - has managed to not knock me upside my head told me this afternoon as I sobbed on the phone about accepting the job. He says, "Lola, why are you crying? Would you stay with a boyfriend who beats you?"

Head down, mid-sob, I say "No."

"Of course, you wouldn't," he says matter of factly. "The OOD is like an abusive boyfriend who beats you and you're the shattered girlfriend who stays. Why! You are letting all of those beatings keep you down and letting all of that insecurity do this to you. You have to stop. You have to leave the abusive boyfriend." And while this is just an analogy and noone at the OOD has ever given me literal beatings what he says makes perfect sense to me. I'm absofuckinglutely INSANE.

I need help. (and microsoft office bootlegs too for vista for my new Home Office of Doom so hit me up if you've got a copy to send me)