Wednesday, December 01, 2004


Job, it's not me, it's you. Okay, maybe it is a little bit me because I'm generally lazy and horrible at office work and take two weeks to complete a task that takes about ten minutes because I just read blogs and shop online and IM my friends all day long, but still. No matter how fabu (and I mean fabu in the "I'm making fun of people who actually say 'fabu'" kind of way) the coworkers and company may be, something about being an entertainment corporation marketing assistant just ain't right. Thanks to Lindsayism for sort of jusifying my incessant whining and insurmountable apathy at work:
I spent 6 months as an assistant in the Marketing Department at Miramax, so I know to tell you don't apply for this job. Seriously. Life is just too short.

This nice hipsterish girl who has yet to say hi or make eye contact with me, suggesting that we have similar personalities, just started as a temp marketing assistant in the cubicle next to mine. I really think I should warn her. But I don't want to burst her bubble during the new job honeymoon period. Ah well, chances are she'll figure it out soon enough, once the elation over free coffee and pretzels and promotional duffel bags starts to fade.

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