Postcard from you-know-where

I came this close to finally having a cubicle-quad mate. Closer than you think. So close the Sec brought her fucking computer and purse over to the neighbouring cube, took one look at my white ass, spun around on her kitten heel and took off for the hills. I had just sent an email to a colleague telling him that I was getting a potential new friend too. Guess not. I can't tell you where she went but I can tell you that the cube is still empty. This has happened twice now. I am officially in omiyage-less purgatory hell.

In other news, I ran into that Professional who wants to pimp my ride buying a card in a bookstore by the office. He gave me the typical I-am-way-hotter-in-my-mind look and showed me the traditional Japanese card, asking if I knew what the kanji said. "Marriage" I parroted and his face positively BEAMED at me, I think I might even feel some sunburn coming on as I type. "However do you know how to read that?" He asked and I just smiled my dumb gaijin smile and told him that shock horror and surprise, I can read fucking Japanese. You'd think I had just converted my undergrad degree into one in rocket science from the way he was looking at me. I then considered a) telling him my blondness is deceiving or b) I knew the kanji because I hoped (batting my eyelashes so fast I could take off at this point) it would apply to me some day. very. soon. Then I kept my mouth shut and promptly said goodbye.

And on a sweet note, a Professional via his Sec brought me a slice of expensive chocolate cake (this is the way into my good graces for future reference). I have been doing a lot of work for him as of late (never even met the guy once of course) and always at a breakneck pace. His Sec emailed me in the middle of completing something, to see how far it was from being finished, which technique I adore by the way, so I sent her something back along the lines of working.on.it.right.now. She then came over about half an hour later bearing expensive hotel boutique cake to thank me for all the work I have been doing lately for her Prof. I don't usually mind feeling like a bitch, but it was one of those moments that I felt a little twinge of regret at getting pissed at her when-will-it-be-done emails. Apparently the Prof was too shy to speak English to come with the cake himself, and although she told him I speak Japanese he still couldn't muster the courage (yes, I am still talking about a real grown-up company with adults here). I then felt the need to send her a thank you email after thanking her profusely in person, to which she replied that the Prof often walks by my cube on the way to the smoking room, so could I please try to talk to him? Sure, I'll just jump up and yell whassup when he comes by next.