Not Chosen, Just Posin'

I just got a job with a Jewish magazine. I'm not Jewish. They think I am.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

When I read that some people actually light their menorahs/chanukiahs with hand pressed olive oil (Bonus: from real life Israeli olive trees!) I became hungry. Scratch that, famished. I'm not being intentionally blasphemous here. Just thought you might like to know.

And speaking of big appettites...
Our new web designer (not in-house, unfortunately--we could use some new blood around here) sent a box of Vosges chocolates to the Publisher's Wife as a thank you for the job. The PR girl received them and went around passing them out to all of us. Personally, I enjoy the dusted chocolate apricot truffles, so I nabbed those for myself. She then put the remaining several truffles on the Publisher's Wife's desk.

When the Publisher's Wife returned, I overheard the Secretary Who Reeks of Cigarettes telling her, gleefully, how nice it was that the new web designer sent us chocolates.

This is what I heard:

Secretary: "They were so good. The PR Girl passed them out."

Secretary: "Oh, really? I'm sorry."

Secretary: "Oh, we didn't know. We thought they were for everyone."

Where, oh where, was the controller when we needed him to remind the Publisher's Wife of the sheer diameter of her ass?

There are truly only two options here: She wanted to eat ALL of the truffles by herself, or she wanted to give them away as a present to someone who doesn't deserve them nearly as much as the staff who earned them.

I especially hate* the Publisher's Wife lately, but the details are too obnoxious to report. All I can say is that I've taken the liberty of inducting her as an honorary member of the Grinches.

*Yes, I realize hate is a strong word, but not one that isn't appropriate in this situation.

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