May 5, 2004
What I Did On My Two Weeks Vacation

I recently spoke with my dear friend Helen C. Margiotti, a pal o' mine from college. We spent so much time together in school and right after school that I think we were married for a short time without realizing it. Anyway, every time I speak to Helen we joke about how we haven't seen each other in a long time, and how our work schedules simply don't allow it. She works in a library. I work in publishing, also known as Nazi Germany.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Could this be the leader of the Orderism movement expressing disgust at working in Nazi Germany? Yes. Followers of Orderism will remember that this new world order allows for much (albeit regulated) recreation on a 3'x3' brown mat. It also involves a national wake-up call and national Lights-out. Excuse me while I dab a tear of joy from my eyes and dream of this fantasy world.

I normally lean to the lazy side; if I can put something off until Tuesday, you can bet that come Wednesday it still won't be done. My dear parents sometimes send me home with food; my one request is that it involve no dish that I will have to later wash. (And I do mean later.) A lot of folks pontificate on what they'd do upon hitting it big in the lottery. While I think a big home, personal chef, hot car, etc. would be nice, the real thing I'd want is someone to follow me around with a broom and dustpan, so I can simply throw my trash on the ground and someone else would be there to pick it up. That, and a jetpack.

Something happened to me last year, and I can only explain it with the honest truth. My job threw a dollar bill on the floor, waited for me to bend over, and then drugged me into submission via giant rectal suppository. The side effects were almost immediate; I started working until NJ Transit told me I had to go home. I defied the train line and worked Saturdays. I actually got up EARLY so that I could have a few hours peace in the morning before my staff came in. And I spent that time WORKING. Not e-mailing my friends. Not surfing various rage-management sites. Not desperately trying to pick up the guy who works the front desk. (Maybe there was a little of that.) This, from the same chick who'd take the bus for a week simply to avoid digging her car out of the snow. Unreal.

It was suggested that I take 2 weeks off after The Incident. Now I ask you - who hasn't had the occasional meltdown at work after being asked to take on just one more project, due in a month and with absolutely no resources? I mean, please. I hardly think that stripping down naked, marching around the office and beating a big bass drum that says, "EAT IT MOFOS!" is worth getting excited about. I look at it this way: at least I didn't kill anybody.

I was at first confused by the prospect of taking 2 weeks off. I'd never even considered such a thing. But then I got excited at the thought of reclaiming my life. It had been stolen from me via giant rectal suppository; it was only right that I have some time to reclaim it.

I moved into the office for the 2 weeks prior to Karen's Life Reclamation. I worked 25 hours a day, bid a fond farewell to my colleagues, and set off on a 10 day adventure that would reintroduce me to my hilarious self.

What I Did On My Vacation

1. I started off the 2 weeks by going to see The Passion of the Christ. I found this movie to be incredibly beautiful and completely moving, and I don't care what anybody says. However, the next time I see it, I probably won't make it a double-feature with Old School.

2. I did not shower for 3+ days. It's amazing how much cleaner you feel when you let the skank build up for a couple of days. It's like how good it feels when you stop hitting yourself in the head with a frying pan.

3. I started out each sentence with, "Well, according to what I saw on Maury?" I mean, can you really turn the channel when there's an 891-pound man sitting there? No, you cannot. And don't try to tell me otherwise, you're not fooling anyone.

4. I cleaned up after my SuperBowl party. Yes, I know that was in February; haven't you been paying attention here?

5. I watched a boatload of JAG reruns. I used to tutor on Tuesday nights, so I'd tape them all. Then I never had the heart to record over them, so I have a closet full of tapes, none with labels, and all too precious to discard. One of my ambitions was to label them all with the episode names and such, but I'd usually get so revved up watching those blue eyes that I'd shiver and sweat and? what was I saying?

6. I vowed not to speak to anyone in my office. This lasted for one day, when a peaceful, 10:30 am nap was rudely interrupted by my friend Margaret. It was just to dish about a ridiculous co-worker with BO that would stop time, so that was OK.

7. I quit my job seven times.

8. I continued to set my alarm for 5 am each morning. Just for the sheer pleasure of that split second when I realized I didn't have to go to work.

9. I cursed my company for making me move to Hoboken. While I hate this city with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, this probably stemmed from the fact that I had to pay for a whole month's worth of parking and train, even though I didn't use them for 2 weeks.

10. I went to visit Helen. And after 12 some-odd years of Helen's friendship, I still cannot manage to hook up with her brother. He must be gay. It was nice to see her and all, but I can't get past that.

11. I smiled.

12. I went to the Anderson St. train station each morning to wave off the 7:17 and yell "Suckers!"

13. I had a surreal experience at Hubcap Joe's in Oradell, NJ. Some miserable bastard stole a hubcap off of Klaus, my 2-year old Jetta. I stopped off at a wonderful little place known as Hubcap Joe's. The shop is about the size of my office, with just enough room for a desk and a toilet. The rest, as you can imagine, is loaded with hubcaps. Before I had the door all the way open or even spoken, Hubcap Joe informed me that he had exactly what I needed. Almost willed there, I followed HJ into the back (by the toilet), out the back door, and over to Klaus, where HJ slapped a new hubcap on in seconds. I paid HJ and drove off. No other words were spoken. I think I may have been physically violated and/or switched religions at some point, but who knows.

14. I performed Google searches on phrases that I feel I have coined, just to see which miserable bastards are plagiarizing me. I'm sorry; "vehicular narcolepsy" is mine. So is "mass transportational narcolepsy". And so is the idea of a Bottomless Restaurant. And I am suing.

15. I listened to the new Rick Springfield album until my ears bled. Go out and get this CD. You know you want to.

16. I cleaned up my bookshelves and found 10 years of The Inner Swine. I shuddered to think at the length of time I've been involved with this rag, but fondly remembered how many times it soothed me through difficult moments in the can. These issues don't exactly sit on a shelf easily, so I was quite interested when Jeff told me that I could get bound volumes. Then he mentioned the word "pay" and I was laughing so hard and picking up the intestines that had fallen out of me, that I didn't really hear the rest of what he was saying.

17. A musical epiphany occurred when I realized that 3 of my all-time favorite songs begin with the word "Don't".

18. I started this article. I have tons of half-articles hanging around, one on the sheer joy of 80s music, one on women's bathrooms, one on the freaks I work with all traveling together in a bus (hilarity!). I started an article years ago, which I planned to present to Jeff as a present when we threw him the party for Lifers, but you know, I got distracted by something. Plus, Jeff really never gives me enough time.

I did a lot of other things, mostly boring and mostly chore-related. Bought a shredder. You get the idea.

What did I learn during this hiatus, you ask? This:

1. The only way to prevent your hubcaps from being stolen is to sit guard each night with a baseball bat.

2. The Internet is a great resource for finding pictures of your favorite Saturday morning Filmation stars of the 70s.

3. When you yell "Suckers!" as you wave at their train, people have a tendency to give you the finger.

4. That at least I'm not 891 pounds.

5. Never turn your back in hubcap shop with a toilet.

6. That all work and no play makes Karen a very scary girl. Not to mention stinky.

7. Alan Young played Wilbur on "Mr. Ed". Not Alan Hale, not Alex Haley, and not Alvin Ailey.

8. JAG is a shamelessly under-rated show that should have its own network where it runs 24 hours a day. But honestly, I knew that already.

9. That Rick's new album is totally kick-ass to the max.

10. That while they masterfully sanded off about 5 inches of skin from my feet, the manicurists at New Star Nails had a little too much fun at my expense. In Korean.

Until next time,

Karen Accavallo, authority.

E-mail me your outrage here.


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