Manolo says, your mission, Ms. Vionnet, should you decide to accept it, is to embarrass the middle aged starlet using only the dinner napkin and the plastic bin liner.
Manolo says, it is Monday and you are back at your desk doing that thing that you do for that money that you need.
Normally, this would be the cause of mild discomfort and soul-weariness, as who would not prefer to be away from grindstone?
However, given how roastingly hot it is out of the doors, you do not mind being in the air conditioning during these most Doggish Days of Summer. And, even the better, your boss, along with two or three of the office troublemakers, are away on their vacations, allowing all of the remaining worker mice to play, or at the least to somewhat chillax.
And so, you will spend much of the morning locked in conversation with your cubemate/frenemy Dina, whom you like/dislike in that way peculiarly reserved for the co-workers.
“Did you see what Snooki was wearing yesterday,” begins Dina’s conversational gambit. (She is obsessed with the reality shows.)
“I don’t watch that,” you lie, trying to maintain your image of aloof intellectualism.
“Oh, don’t fib. I saw you friending the Situation last week.”
“It was not the Situation,” you fib, “it was Jonathan Safran Foer.”
“Honey, Jonathan Safran Foer’s pectoral muscles do not look like that.”
And so it goes, exhaustingly inconsequential tittle-tattle conversations about minor celebrities and their doings. It is almost enough to make you wish for the untimely return of your boss-lady…almost.
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