Sweetie - Nana's uterus fell out, call home.
So can you blame me for not paying more attention to the (contractor) that appeared by his name on these recent e-mails? Of course not. I got an e-mail this morning with just my name in the subject line, and I knew there was trouble:
I felt really bad about it, but I know Nathan, and I know he was secretly loving every second of it. Here's how I imagine it going down. I picture John Houseman as Nathans' boss. For Nathan, let's say Steve Buscemi. Not so much that he looks like him, because he doesn't. And he's way too old. Let's not use Steve Buscemi. Corey Feldman. Everyone can find something to like in that.
friendly reminder: this is a work account so please no
naughty subjectlines, please? You almost got me canned today,
"Mr. H___? Ah yes, ah Mr. H___, may I see you in my office for a moment? Yes, go ahead and bring your bag with you, don't bother setting it down..."
"Oh... what's up?"
"Mr. H___, are you familiar with our institution's code of conduct, specifically the rules and regulations concerning proper use of the equipment and facilities, vis-a-vis, the transmission of pornographic material through company computers?"
"Oh, uh... well, I read it of course. When I was hired. I read it then. What about it?"
"Mr. H___, we intercepted an e-mail this morning addressed to you, containing pornographic content."
"That can't be right. I don't use work e-mail for that."
(Boss gets up, walks around desk, and shoves a piece of paper under
Nathan's nose. Nathan reads it, and stifles a giggle.)
"Really? Then tell me, Mr. H___, in what capacity does your job require you to know that 'sometimes my balls feel like tits'?"