Hab Sosli’ Quch!


An incident occurred today at work, and when I say “work” I’m not referring to my “job” at Synthesis. This may come as some surprise as you, dear reader, but I don’t actually make enough money writing about cat farts and candy for Synthesis to bankroll my rock n roll lifestyle (see also: purchasing Costco brand sweatpants in bulk). To supplement my income, I work as a copywriter for a local clothing company. On my best days I like to think as myself as Elaine Benes in her J. Peterman days. Today was not one of my best days. Today I was more like Mr. Bean in a phlebotomy lab. Sometimes I have to pick up various things from downtown, or assist on outside photoshoots (see also: hold a collapsible reflector in the right spot for about twenty seconds then show the photographer how weak my arms are by dropping it a few inches every few seconds).

Today I was charged with picking up some supplies from a local downtown art store. My boss gave me some cash, and I took the money from her. Folded it, put it in my back pocket, and walked a block to the store. I purchased the items needed, and when I pulled the money out to pay, I was $100 short. Masking my panic, I walked back to work, back up to the office and checked with her on the amount she’d given me. I was (unfortunately) justified in my panic. Somehow, in the short walk from her office to the store, I’d lost her money. Now, because my boss is really sweet, and most likely (at least partly), the reincarnation of Tom Hanks, she’s not making me pay back the money. (And hey, listen. I know Tom Hanks isn’t dead. But I’ve had a rough day. So shut up).

I almost wish she’d let me pay her back. I have a tendency to mentally punish myself for things like this for waaaaay longer than I probably should, but on the other hand, without doing so I’m closer to my Costco sweatpants goal: To have every dog (Bowie & Juno), person (me and my roommate Eli), and poodle figurine I own swaddled in Costco sweatpants by the end of 2014. Yes we can.

And now, on to what I meant to actually write about this week: a politician in North Carolina chose to tender his resignation by submitting a letter written entirely in Klingon. What a nerdy genius. David Waddell (not the CSUC professor by the same name), stepped down from his position on the Indian Trail Town Council last week. I wish I could’ve been present when the office full of people dressed in business casual sat with furrowed brows, crowded around a long table and tried to figure out what it meant. I think if I wanted to quit my job in some strange fashion, I’d probably hire a lookalike to sit at my desk until they noticed it wasn’t me, then only when really pressed she’d try to convince them that I was actually a time lord, and that’s just what I looked like now.

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Zooey Mae has been working as a writer monkey for Synthesis Weekly since 2007. Her favorite things include (but are not limited to), Jeffrey Brown, bubble wrap, Craig Thompson, pillow forts, receiving handwritten letters, and whiskey. She spends her free time stockpiling supplies for the impending robot Apocalypse and avoiding eye contact with strangers.