Budgate

Tonight, I present you: proof that it is BAD to be creative at work. Creativity and work do not mesh, like oil and water or academia and thought. (NOTE TO THOUGHTFUL ACADEMICS: I'm just kidding! Please keep regaling me with The Latest on how certain genders are different from other genders, thereby stimulating me to the point of thought-gasm!) (NOTE TO EVERYONE ELSE: I actually meant what I said.) (NOTE TO THOUGHTFUL ACADEMICS: Love ya! Don't ever change! Let's do lunch!)

So anyway, I was at my place of employment, hereinafter The Food Place, writing a musical (coincidentally that mysterious major project, which, actually, I just finished) in which a character sings of a past life in the following words:

I USED TO BE A SIX-FOOT-SEVEN TRUCKER, NAME OF BUD.

Naturally I turned the notebook page just before writing these very words on an otherwise blank sheet. And naturally I left this sheet, quite by accident, on my boss's desk. And naturally the boss walked in shortly thereafter to see this enigmatic statement. In my handwriting. I discreetly closed the book as soon as I found a graceful opportunity, and while we did not discuss this matter, we later exchanged significant glances. I think.

However, later that same afternoon -- this is true -- famed news anchor Paula Zahn paid a visit to The Food Place. This cannot have been a coincidence. So this post is just to say, whatever wild rumors you may or may not have heard about me are not true. To my knowledge. But just in case, I'm avoiding all outlets of news.

I figure Bud would have done as much.







©2009, Nicola McEldowney
The Snark Ascending