Transplanted Life
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
So, is Comcast going to pro-rate their billing to not include yesterday since I didn't have any internet service? I doubt that.

Kurt and I spent the evening at the Brattle Theater Monday, seeing a double feature of The Thing From Another World and The Man From Planet X. It was kind of neat; they had film critics on-hand to talk about the connection between the Cold War and the atmosphere of those 1950s sci-fi movies. It was a fun night out, almost not really a date - we had supper at Bertucci's beforehand, and spent the half hour between the shows just sort of talking about our jobs. It's funny, because when he used to hang out with me, he had nothing but irritation for his job as a technical writer, but to hear him tell it to "Michelle", he's a vital part of his company, and he takes great pride in making sure everything's clear. And there's an obvious difference in how he characterizes he paycheck to the friends he went to college with and a pretty girl who only graduated high school and works as a receptionist.

I don't know how long I'm going to be able to avoid kissing him, though. I only got out of it Monday because as we were walking back to the subway station - and I'm not kidding about this - we walked straight into a streetlight. He wasn't really hurt, but it bloodied his nose a bit, which would have made a kiss good-night somewhat unpleasant even if I were looking forward to it. Of course, the reason he wasn't looking where he was going was because I'd worn something which showed some cleavage. But I swear I didn't maneouver him into it, even if we were holding hands.

Yesterday was just a crazy day at work - BioSoft is evidently looking to add a new programmer to their staff (where was this job opening two months ago?), and they scheduled a bunch of interviews for yesterday. So there was always some new person in the lobby, or people calling to confirm times or get directions, or who needed to be announced, shown to different staff members' offices. I swear half the men were trying to hit on me, too - I know when you're just trying to make conversation because you're nervous about the interview, and I saw very little of that.

Shouldn't have stayed up for the ballgame last night, though - West Coast road trips are hell on us fans of East Coast teams, as we wait until 1am to see how the game went. I've been just kind of zoning out all day today. Heck, when the UPS guy came an hour ago, I actually signed "Martin Hartle" because I wasn't really thinking. Fortunately, "Martin" can be made to look sort of like "Michelle", and it was as illegible as most signatures are, but it's something that could trip me up. What's really amusing is that folks at the office think my handwriting must be awful, because my "Michelle Garber" signature is a total mess. I can make it look good if I take a little time, paying attention to what I'm writing, but nobody signs their name like that - they use quick strokes, oftentimes not even looking. I try to sign Michelle's name that way, and, well, you can definitely tell the first letter is an "M", but don't give me any more credit than that.

Comments: Post a Comment

Powered by Blogger

Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at