Friday, October 24, 2008

It's Friday, so that of course means supermodels and Krispy Kream in the office.

As I type, I can hear her in the photo studio down the hall commenting on photos as they are being taken [of herself]: "Oh that's really cute! I love that one!" Sigh. I should not be irritated by this girl, she is very pleasant and certainly quite pretty, but she is the third pleasant and quite pretty girl in here this morning, as we are doing shots for covers. And actually, she is not a supermodel as much as she is a regular model, but I am regardless pleased that there is not a mirror in front of my desk (although I cannot imagine why there would be, the corner here at the end of the hall would be a strange place for a mirror, it's not like I work at Versailles, or Conde' Nast.)

*Conde' Nast, by the way, is so fabulous I should talk just briefly about how besotted with their products I am. It began, of course, with my subscription to Vogue, back in the sixth grade. It has since proceeded to my additional, unwavering love for Domino, Vanity Fair, and Portfolio. I love magazines in general, and working for one only intensifies this love. If Conde' Nast, J. Crew, Apple, Ron Paul, and NPR ruled the world, this would be a beautiful thing.

Anyhow, the presence of models for the photo shoot resulted in our Creative Director bringing in pumpkin spice doughnuts (go to Krispy Kream right now and get one, you won't be sorry.) As they are models, they obvi did not eat the doughnuts, so I (not being a model) had a free and delightful breakfast. Thank you, modern standards of beauty.

My vanishing boss has vanished yet again, today for a longer period of time than normal. He mentioned something the other day about the CEO and the department heads doing something, so I suppose that is where he is. Sometimes I'm pretty sure he is in possession of an invisible suit or cloaking device of some kind that he puts on whenever he's about to walk out of his office. And by walk, I mean hover, because he is somehow able to proceed across the hardwood floors with no report (as in gunshot - oh how I also love "You've Got Mail," now that it's fall it's time to watch...) Inevitably, every time this happens, someone important is like "Do you know where Ken is?" and I, like a dope, am forced to respond "No, last I checked he was in his office. I don't know how he does this..." It would be fab if I kept his calendar, which I should probably look into.

After such a productive morning, I think I will go to lunch.

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