“The supreme accomplishment is to blur the line between work and play.”
-Arnold J. Toynbee
I make my workday more enjoyable by using pretty office supplies, and by keeping toys at my desk. Recently my boss brought in a bunch of plastic fishbowls. His plan is to fill them with candy and give them out so that people will refer business to our office.
One of those fishbowls has found temporary residence on my desk. I snatched it because I knew exactly what to put in it.
Without further ado, allow me to introduce you to my new office pets:
making the workday 13% more enjoyable
This is my dog Bailey. She is a 4-pound teacup chihuahua.
Her most favorite toy is a little stuffed animal named Princess. It’s a dog with purple bunny ears tied onto it’s head with ribbon (you know, like for Easter). Bailey expresses her love by throwing Princess violently through the air in fits of hyperactivity and fake rage. When you look at Princess, and see all of her battle scars, you think, “Wow, that toy has been loved.”
We never intended on naming the toy. We especially never intended on naming it something so precious and wimpy.
It just so happened that one day when Husband and I returned home for the night, there was a castle sitting on our doorstep. It was made entirely of paper towel rolls and cardboard boxes. If you are wondering why someone made it and why they left it at our house, all you need to understand is that some of my friends are weirder than me.
It was an exciting discovery to realize Bailey the chihuahua actually fit inside the castle – right through the fully-functional drawbridge door. My joy was made complete once we found a dragon costume for Bailey.
She actually loves wearing the costume. I taught her to love it by giving her treats the first time we put her in it. I taught her to love the castle the same way. I could teach her to like anything by associating it with treats. I’m pretty certain that humans work the same way.
Anyway. There I was, with a cardboard castle and a chihuahua dragon. The only logical thing to do at that point was to find a damsel in distress for my dragon dog to terrorize. This is when the little bunny/puppy toy entered the scene in a dramatic role.
And that is how Princess got her name.
a quick paint sketch of my dog bailey and her new friends:
wise words from a friend (about the only proper way to celebrate a birthday):
During our Black Friday gallivanting, we stopped at Target at 1:00am. I was mesmerized by a display of Sock Monkeys that sing and dance to the song “Dynamite.”
The peculiar thing is that I don’t really like that song, and I find Sock Monkeys to be fugly, creepy, and deeply disturbing. But somehow the combination was a Win, and I HAD TO HAVE IT.
The last thing I needed was another toy. I already have a Slinkie, plastic zebra, squeaky alligator, and a stuffed puppy that does backflips, et cetera. I don’t need more toys. So I figured it’d be best if I rented him instead – you know, like, go to Target and just play with him there.
It was surprisingly difficult getting someone to accompany me to Target to rent a dancing Sock Monkey. Best Friend would’ve tagged along, but she was already out with HER BOYFRIEND. Normally we like him, but for Sock Monkey renting purposes, he was totally raining on my parade. Thus ensued a brief texting conversation that I will summarize for you here:
Friend’s Boyfriend: YOU CAN’T HAVE HER!
Me: you poopface. my sock monkey will kill you in your sleep.
Friend’s Boyfriend: poopface? yeah. i smear poop on assassins. i hope you like smelly monkeys.
Long story short, I bought the monkey and plan to terrorize Friend’s Boyfriend with itfor the rest of our lives. The End.
Despite having to work early the next morning, we impulsively decided to visit the mall at 11pm on Thanksgiving to observe the Black Friday festivities.
I brought the P.I.G. but that was a stupid move on my part. Everyone at the mall was in a shopping frenzy. If I had made them wait while I counted change to pay from my piggy bank, I am certain I would have been shanked right in the check-out line. Thinking I could use P.I.G. to make a purchase on Black Friday was a delusional oversight.
But my piggy bank has very hard, sharp ears, and as I struggled through a mass of overzealous shoppers I realized that if things got ugly, P.I.G. could serve as pretty respectable weaponry.
In addition, if I were to find an exceptionally good bargain he could provide a little extra pull in securing my purchases. You know, just, like, a little friendly assistance in persuading the other shoppers to stay away from the really good deals.
As it went, P.I.G.’s services were not needed (neither financially or violently). I am glad he came along for the adventure, though. There is no other ceramic animal I would rather had while searching Target in vain for a full-price puppy collar at 1:00am. Or while laughing hysterically at a statue in an empty parking lot (he had a “mom butt” that was fantastically humorous at 2am, but surprisingly less amusing when recalled this morning as I was getting ready for work).
I am so glad P.I.G. could join me for all this Purely Impulsive Gallivanting.
This grant made use of the only dollar bill in my piggy bank. It provided reward money for the co-worker that was brave enough to save me from a bug.
His certificate says “Certficate of Appreciation: This certificate is awarded to Co-Worker for killing the disease-bearing lightning-fast cockroach from hell.” The reward money was attached via staple.
These monetary incentives ensure there will always be volunteers willing to protect me from gross things. I am very thankful for the piggy bank funds that enable me to maintain this reward program.