Tuesday, September 28, 2004


According to Linda Goodman's Sun Signs, a book that has perched on the shelf of my parents' home for at least 25 years and is the only tantalizing whisper of a more bohemian, more free-ish love past that you will find in their posession, the great thing about being in a relationship with a Gemini woman is that you get to date multiple people without cheating on anyone.

See, of course, Geminis are the twins. So I, as a Gemini, contain multitudes. Even as a young lass first probing the pajama'd mysteries of astrology and ouija boards, I always considered this kind of a charming perk for my future romantic partners. I'd be exciting and unpredictable and mysterious. He'd have sunny, charming me and then a brooding, wild-haired, willful me. Think less Sybil and more Scarlett O'Hara, minus the vicious manipulating and the corset. I never imagined that one of these personalities would actually turn out to be neither Sybil nor Scarlett, but an asexual office gremlin.

See, here's the problem. My normal personality, the normal way I talk, is more or less what you see on this here blog. I am trivial, I curse like a vice president, I mock everything I can see, I say totally a lot. But the default personality does not incur the respect and knee-trembling terror that I hope to inspire in my colleagues. Because I am anything but a responsible adult and do not know how a responsible adult might naturally behave, I have no response mechanisms ready for the banter and repartee of the workplace environment. So I revert to a simulation of competent adulthood and act like some wicked bastard child of suburban housewife and long-suffering secretary who wears pantyhose and tennis shoes.

I have thusly navigated the turbulent waters of employment without capsizing into abject humiliation, save for one thing. I have taken on the laugh. You know, the laugh. The ingratiating, unconvincing laugh that goes on too long, always triggered by something not very funny.

Like, try this: "Well, I think she sent it. But you know Kathy!! [insincere laugh]"

Every time I hear this laugh come from my mouth, I die a little bit. I realized that something must be done before this becomes an official personality and the moody, passionate femme fatale will get edged out of the line-up. So I have anthropomorphized this personality, and named her Mabel. I think she'll be easier to kill if she has a name.


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