HAVE YOU SEEN MY HONEYPIE?
I miss Ram. I can't wait for my one and only to get back so he can meet my new bass guitar and help me name him. Come back, honeypie, come back.

MY BOSS SAYS I SHOULD COMB MY HAIR
Despite what I thought on Monday, the week actually has passed pretty quickly. The second day was better, the third easier still, and by the fourth and fifth I had managed to wrangle some projects for myself. I mean, above and beyond stuffing envelopes, answering phones, and scanning the paper for Representative DeWeese's name. So far my special project has involved writing a speech for the Senior Games and writing a congratulatory letter to the participants, looking up their names/addresses, and mailing them out. That's right, I wrote something that had Bill DeWeese's name signed to it. This means I got to use bad ass words like "felicitation" instead of "congratulations" because Bill DeWeese is a fan of obfuscation.

With such fun to be had, a stocked office fridge (well, stocked as of yesterday, but still), and guilt-free internet surfing (as long as you manage to pick up the phone quickly), how could I dislike this job? My crippling insecurity didn't even last past noon on the second day.

As of yesterday, Ram has been gone for two weeks. All things considered, I think I'm handling it pretty well. My list of things to tell him is getting longer and longer, and I'm having some fun imagining him in all these different places, and I'm still praying for his safety, but I really, really, really miss him. Especially when I went to Pittsburgh last weekend to visit the gang, and of all places, we went to Guitar World. I was missing my honeypie to the max being around all those faces and things I can't help but associate with him.

I got one of the best zine-related letters today. It was from Kelli of That Girl, one of my favorite zines of all time. She sent me an older issue of That Girl along with some That Girl and 20 Bus (another zine of hers about public transportation) stickers that simply knock my socks off. Way off. For the first time in a few weeks I feel like really working on my zine, and thus it's so convenient that I have a weekend to myself.

EX-MAGICIAN STILL KNOWS THE TRICKS
Another dispatch from the office. 1:00 PM. Three, four more hours? Four more weeks and four more days? I'm almost getting the hang of the phone system, but not who does what. I didn't take my whole lunch break, goodness knows why. The other intern is at lunch, and my semi-supervisor Kristi is messing around on Cosmo.com, so why should I feel bad about whiling away my time on Fashion Icon or the Pander board? You might find my blog getting more and more exciting. Or longer and longer. I don't know. 1:03 PM. They're talking about weddings and parking tickets. It's so quiet that I feel guilty for making any clicking sounds at all.

I guess I was thinking that having this job would make the time pass quicker and Ram would be back sooner. At least I can go home at the end of the day with the sense that I've actually done something besides watching TV, but is that really true? It does get me out of bed sooner in the morning, but that's about it. I read something in the NY Times magazine about how having a boring job leads to an earlier death, drove in with my diet Coke while listening to the mixtape Ian made for me, and got stuck behind a car going 5-10 below the speed limit the entire time. I almost wish I was working with the summer program again. At least I always knew how to deal with the kids, and I knew what came next. These goddamned phones.

WANNA GROW UP TO BE A DEBASER
This is my first day of work, and so far it's full of blunders. I'm trying my best to get the hang of the phone systems and gracefully answer the phone and forward calls to the necessary people, none of whom, of course, are here today. Most of all, it takes a serious amount of finesse to give the impression that one is competent, busy, and quick when really you're putzing around on the internet and asking where calls need to be forwarded. It's dull and mind-numbing, and I've only been here for two hours.

My new bass guitar is giving me all kinds of reasons to work, though. Not only because I'll have lots of new accessories to drool over, but because I want to replete my account after my buying frenzy at Guitar World. I'm just trying to keep myself thinking about the salary, not looking at the clock, and doing something that at least looks productive. Ugh. If you know of anything that I can try to make myself look more productive, you have to let me know. Endless blog posting and e-mailing and message boarding seems a little suspicious, although that's what all the other interns seem to do. Believe me, I won't be disappointed at all if I don't get a renewed contract here. I'll take my five weeks and run, thanks very much.

It's kind of sad to see how many people fall through the cracks and want to talk to Bill DeWeese himself. So far I've talked to a lady whose trust fund has been voided, and who hasn't had any help from anybody. She wanted Bill himself to save her, but he doesn't work here, and we can't just patch you through to him, as sorry as we are. I've also tried to help a woman whose father in law is going to die from lung cancer because of something a contractor did. She wanted to talk to Bill DeWeese, too, but what can I do but patch her through to Sharon? All of these people are sick of cheery-voiced interns like me, who are all too hopeful to pass them on to another voicemail box, another office, where they'll just deal with more interns. It kind of sucks.