Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Fire in the Disco!

False alarm on the....seventh floor!

I was fixing credit lines for an orthopedics book for the fourth time and getting very into the new Fiona Apple album when a dissonant whoop made me question her composition skill. Turns out it was the fire alarm.

Maybe I'm nothing but a fireman's kid, but I always found fire drills very, very exciting in elementary school. There is nothing more thrilling than the idea of dropping everything, silently falling into formation and urgently, quickly, immediately evacuating, consumed by visions of your entire crappy school burning to the ground right in front of your very eyes, including your mathbook and any proof that you didn't do your spelling homework, and possibly even the bitch of an instructional assistant who once made fun of your paper snowman's feet. Yes they were both pointing outward, but which other way were they supposed to point? He was two-dimensional, for Christ's sake.

In a fire drill, it's perfectly acceptable for you to imagine her reduced to a nugget.

Grown-up fire drills aren't the same. Despite office workers' assignments as searcher or warden; despite the red emergency phone next to the elevator that connected us to no one when we called down to doorman to see if the short, strange alarm was a real fire, a drill, or just a malfunction; despite the increasing temperature of the stairwell as we proceeded downstairs, there wasn't one iota of urgency expressed by anyone in my office. We all waited while upper-level editors sluggishly donned their coats and rummaged for their wallets, then plodded slowly downstairs while mourning the lack of elevator. As we decended into the theoretical fire raging below us, we discussed whether we should go to Starbucks or back to work.

The consensus was Starbucks.

I'm an assistant. I'm back at my desk.

It's good to know that--should actual flames consume the six floors below mine, firey tongues lapping the soles of my shoes as they eat through the floor--if I should be immolated beyond recognition there will be no shortage of survivors, debit cards in hand, able to purchase a venti skim latte to pour on the curb as a gesture of corporate memorial.


Anonymous brad said...

I'm there all next week; I could arrange on one of your 'sick' days for Springer to transform into a disoc inferno... and by 'disco' i mean 'plain old fiery.'

8:20 PM  
Anonymous brad said...

Also, I think I lost a finger at the factory, because I'm typing like Old Niney today.

8:21 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Great night of TV last night. Idol results show was 'aight'- Next Top Model wasn't bad, That Naima girl (mohawk) has got this thing on lock down, Clearly, the eventual winner. Paris and Nicole fucking shit up at the daycare... quote of the night was from nicole (directed to a 3 year old) "Do you know how to change diapers? Can you change your friend's diaper?)
I used to like that 'LOST' show, but the shit has been dragging on too long - WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON ON THAT ISLAND ?!?!?! Is it polar bears? Crazy people? Is it all a dream? They've just milked it to a boring and unenjoyable point.

'LOST' ... You're fired!


10:06 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Where is everyone today? I watched Jerry Springer. And Maury. And Jenny Jones. and Ricky Lake. A very uneventful day here in la ciudad of brotherly love.
Also, I was wondering about something else, Special K, maybe you have some insight on this. Carnie Wilson and Star Jones both had that surgery to lose a lot of weight, Very successful, both looked great ... and now ... they are kinda big again ?! So what happens now? Not that I think it's a big deal, nor do I condone Kate Moss-iness by Mary Kate Olson-ish means ... but it strikes me as a super drastic measure, and I don't understand how they can lose a lot of weight, and then gain some back.

I really need to heal soon, I've gone too Hollywood.


2:20 PM  
Anonymous brad said...

what the fuck are you talking about?

nobody cares what tv shows you watched last night. get your own blog, nutbag.

2:32 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

Hey, N(utbag?)-

All they do is cut your stomach down in size. But the magical thing about stomachs ('cause stomachs are magical things) is that they stretch. So, if you still overeat, your stomach will stretch, and you'll gain your weight back.

Like Al Roker, too.

Anyway, if you're bored whilst convalescing, I do recommend blogging wholeheartedly. It's rawther diverting.


2:41 PM  

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