Fridays were once the beginning of my weekend. Now they are the harbingers of two more days of work. Three weeks of having the expectation of Friday as Freedom Day thwarted has apparently lead my brain to revolt by going partially insane.
Thus.
There is a new Manager at work, with an unusual name. She sent out an email this morning clarifying spelling and pronunciation. Her name is pronounced “Teresa”, although it is spelled “Treasa”. Possessed by some unholy force of mischief (Loki?) I sent her the following email:
—–Original Message—–
From: Darling, Dulcet
Sent: December 5, 2003 10:05 AM
To: ***removed for privacy***
Subject:RE: E-mail and phone information
I think you should actually change the pronunciation of your first name to “tre-shah”, as in “treasure”, (consistent with the way it is spelled) rather than “ter-ree-sah”.
Given it’s pleasant association with money or “filthy lucre” as it is sometimes called, it would be an excellent hip-hop name, should you ever decide to pursue rap music as a career choice. MC Treasa. You could sell a million records.
Why are you arching your eyebrow like that? Rap music stardom is clearly one of the many avenues of personal expression the Ontario Public Service leaves open to its employees.
Bling bling!
Moira
you, my dear marla, are the goddamn coolest!
Thank you kindly, Shorn. Your props are much appreciated. 😉
Let’s see if you still think that of me when I am U to the N to the E-M-P to the L to they O to the Y-E-D.
She probably has very deep childhood scars resulting from first day of school trauma. You know, when the teacher first calls out roll and everyone laughs as she mangles Treasa’s name and all the kids laugh? Oh, that mocking childhood laughter! With a single email, you inadvertently assumed the role of her childhood tormentors and as such, she will brutally set your cubicle on fire with rubber cement and make it look like cubicide! Replete with lengthy note on how you loathed your cube and ignited it as a symbol of freedom from oppression by the Man!
-caellum
PS. Do Canadians have a “the Man”? Not certain if he is a American-only icon.
PSS. True you are leaving in 18 days to seek booty and buried treasure? Pity, I am coming into Toronto on the 29th, with a fine bottle of single malt Scotch….
The violent deaths you’ve ascribed to me so far – television-related murder, assassination by fire – indicate strongly that you’ve developed a kindergarden crush on me. Which is sweet, but really, you could always just say it with flowers. Or scotch.
Yes, we in Canada do have “the Man”. Although in my case it’s almost always “the Woman”, since 90% of my workplace management, including my Director, Deputy Minister and Minister are women. This is not a common thing in Canadian politics, I just have an amazing knack for falling into the one place in any given industry that is female-dominated. As per the Silver Snail, the only comic shop I’ve ever been in with gender equality on staff (7 girls, 7 guys).
Chrissy told me last night that you’d be rolling into town for New Year’s, but I was too busy wailing in torment at the Stepford-esque horror that is 7th Heaven to pay much attention. I don’t suppose you’re sticking around until, say, the 9th of January or after? I’m gone to Nassau for 12 days (Dec 28-Jan 8), so alas, it seems unlikely we will meet.
Not this time, Gadget. Not this time.
Well, I was going to pull your hair and run away, but geographically, this has been most difficult. So descriptive fiery death threats seemed the way to go. Alas, I had decided these tactics were a failure, and as such, decided to re-invent my strategerie to include smuggling a fantastic Denver martini menu and the 15 yo bottle of Laphroig into Canada in the hopes that you would “go steady”, but it seems this was not meant to be. I’ll just have to get Chrissy to pas you a note in gym class, as I am leaving on the 2nd to go back to Denver.
-caellum
For Something’s Sake, stop watching 7th Heaven. Haven’t you realized that every time you watch that show, God kills a kitten?