So, for the last month (or so -- whatever), my buddy at work has been Linda. You know how sometimes you�ll meet someone and you two will just really hit it off? That was me and Linda. Her first day at the office, we were talking and laughing like old friends, discussing everything from astrology to stalking your ex, and spontaneously breaking into Vaudevillian routines in the lobby of Arts-Friendly Non-Profit. We had good fun.

Today, I woke up and stumbled into the bathroom, practically tripping over the egregious bags under my eyes, and glanced at my rather terrifying visage in the mirror. It was a morning, and I wasn�t about to take home any prizes, but I was too tired to worry about it. �Eh,� I thought. �It�s a look.�

So, without tending to so much as my hair, I ambled out the door and made the short drive to work. As I walked in, I noticed something very different about Linda. Namely, she wasn�t there. Instead, some dude was sitting in her chair! �Where�s Linda?� I inquired of China in Data Entry. China informed me that Linda was �no longer with us�, whatever the hell that means. So I stormed back up to the lobby, determined not to like this dude, because, yo! Where�s my buddy?

That�s when I noticed something else. New Dude was cute. Maybe not as cute as my husband, Ryan Phillippe, but New Dude had very pretty eyes and a killer smile. So suddenly I�m all flustered as I introduce myself (his name, for the purposes of this diary, is Jetson, because that smile is out of this world) and entirely aware of how I look like three miles of bad road. My hair was all fucked up (and not in that �messy chic� way, either, but in that Not Just The President, But Also A Member kind of way), I hadn�t shaved, my jeans were just this side of dirty, and I still had a complete set of Louis Vuitton traveling cases under my eyes.

I�m pretty sure Jetson likes the boys, too. I mean, I didn�t ask, because that�s pretty intrusive, but I know what signs to look for. Not that it made any difference, since I looked like that trash monster from Fraggle Rock, and was pretty much strictly a No Tap for the morning. But I did my best at flirting, and darned if he wasn�t at least somewhat responsive. Of course, as previously established, I suck at flirting, so it was really pretty sad. I mean, I try real hard to make my paralytic bashfulness come off as charming, but when I get nervous, I�m one drool cup short of a psych ward.

Me: So�what are you doing?

Jetson: Oh, just entering some reports.

Me: Oh, that�s neat. I�m�procrastinating. I�ve got some work to do, upstairs, but I�m not doing it. I mean, I�ll do it eventually -- I�m not lazy or irresponsible, or whatever�I mean, not that you really care, because you just started here and you don�t know me or anything, and you probably weren�t going to judge me based on the fact that I�m hanging out in the lobby instead of calling Keiko, whom you haven�t met yet, but she works in our East Coast office, and I talk to her a lot because I�m the point person and she�s the point person, and there�s a whole lot of pointing, which you also probably don�t care about, because you�re just doing reports right now -- not that you couldn�t do something else, of course, but, really, why would you want to?

Jetson: Um�was that multiple choice?

Also, am I a traitor to Linda�s memory by fraternizing with her replacement? I miss Linda, you guys, but I really like Jetson�s biceps -- I mean, �personality�. Sigh. I�m glad it�s the weekend.

Aw, dude, I hate green beans!

Someone Got Here By Searching For: how does anorexic people look like? And: �heavier than me� + �I�m thin� [I�m sensing a theme, and that theme is �huh?�] I�m Watching: The Angelina Jolie interview on 20/20. She�s a little nuts, and a little brilliant. Her dad, however, is a total whack-job. This Weekend I�m: Not going to find any more body parts, God willing.

my last adventure: Thoroughly Maddening Millie
�
my next adventure: Flirting and Hurting