She confirmed that it was something for me and I glared at it hesitantly and complained about not knowing what it was for about three minutes before I finally grabbed my sissors to cut it open.

It turns out it was a platinum record with my name on it which is a very odd thing to receive in a room full of people you only kind of know. It's kind of like having flowers delivered to you at work. (Well, maybe it's a little bit less overwhelming than getting flowers delivered because flowers mean that someone is feeling romantic about you.) Point being, I was made to feel very self-conscious about a huge framed platinum record with my name on it that also had nothing to do with my current job but all my co-workers were very excited about it and were saying that I should feel really proud to have it and making clever jokes in the manner that they always do until finally all of the excitement provoked me to hold it up and say, "See, I get shit done!"

Immediately thereafter, even though people knew I was completely kidding and chuckled at the comment, I felt like a total asshole.

Leave it to me, diary. Just leave everything to me.

(I'm really flattered to have it though. I feel all weird because I don't think I can hang it in my home. It has two guns on it and I feel like weaponry really clashes with my decorating theme.

07 April 2006 - 8:24 PM

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