Craptastic ...

Bossman's (we need a new name for him, any suggestions?) dog took a crap in the office yesterday. I kid you not. Can we pause and reflect on this for a second. Bossman's dog took a shit on the floor of the office. Not to mention about 2 feet from where I work. This is an office, not a fucking kennel.

Needless to say this is not a healthy working environment -- call me old fashioned but having a dog crap in the middle of office is not very feng shui. Not only do I not have a phone, receive no light, have no true desk (my computer sits on a piece of plywood), purchase my own business cards, and get paid in glue sticks -- now I have to dodge dog shit when I walk around the office. Voodoo, a very nice woman who works with me, cleaned up the dog shit. Believe me, she doesn't get paid enough to be picking up dog shit in the office.

After the crap ... I said "Fuck this I'm outta here" and left to go get a beer at a local shitty Irish bar down the street, where they charged me 6 dollars for a pint of Killians. (I know its New York City, but this is a shitty bar and its 4 in the afternoon, 6 dollars -- help a broke brother out.) I returned about an hour later, I was very salty.

I was expecting bossman to apologize, but no -- he spent this rest of the afternoon ribbing me about how I hate animals and how I didn't care about the animals that have perished in the aftermath of the Hurricane Katrina. (Which I think is tragic by the way, I really do, the whole devastation is really unfathomable and the federal government's neglect and inaction is shocking. But I don't need to wax politically) I told Bossman, I don't hate animals, I just hate animals that shit in my office -- next to my pseudo-desk.