Welcome to America

Today I woke up before seven, went to the gym, ate a quick breakfast, showered, made myself a sensible lunch, put on a suit, grabbed my bag, crammed onto the T, went to work for 8 hours, crammed onto the T again, took off my shoes and tie, made myself a sensible dinner, and then sat on the couch and watched TV while I ate my grilled chicken with rice.

Tomorrow, I will do this again. Little will change beyond the fact that I will be one day closer to the weekend. After a weekend that is always too short (the concept of a two-day weekend boggles my mind), I will rinse and repeat.

In other words, I have become a suit.

Yay...

Don't get me wrong. I love suits. But right now I feel like an alien. (Pauses for immigrant joke). No, assholes. A space alien, come to this strange, tedious planet that is the workplace to observe and report. And I have a million questions and concerns.

Can I swear? Can I fart? Can I drink? Where do they keep the booze? When's lunch? Is it just me or is that guy exactly like Creed? When can I flirt with the only girl who seems like she's my age? Where are the paper clips? What did my boss just say? Oh shit, what did my boss just say when I was wondering what she just said before that? Is it too late to tell that guy my name is not Chester? Where does one "do it" in this office? Is this it? Is this real life?

I have no idea when or if I can check my personal email. Millions of blog posts and news stories remain unread, starved for attention. I didn't know about Sotomayor until 2 p.m.. I'm even terrified of blogging, afraid my boss will march up behind me like some imp from the Gestapo (he's actually a pretty cool guy, but bear with me) and start barking.

At this point I am no longer looking to revolutionize the workplace and turn it into College 3.0. At this point, I am only praying that the other shoe doesn't drop and the federales storm the law offices like it was a restaurant kitchen.

And with that wonderful image in my mind -- handcuffed while I pray the guy does not tear my suit while dozens of deeds and invitations to bid flutter around me like the confetti to a Minuteman parade -- I go to bed before midnight for the first time in several years.

Avenge me.