June 28, 2005

Warmest greetings and salutifications, everybody! My name is Puley the Puppet, and I'm the new *FootNotes* mascot-slash-ghost-writer!

Secra -- as you may have heard already -- has been feeling a bit under the weather lately. [Read this: she lost her job last week, her reproductive system has entered critical meltdown, she's suffering from a raging case of *Poor Little Me* Syndrome, and all she wants to do is sit around the apartment in her Happy Pants, listening to Dido CDs and eating Spaghetti-O's straight out of the can.] So -- in the interest of keeping *FootNotes* alive and well, as it enters its eighth thrilling year on the Internet -- I've volunteered to take over chronicling Secra's fabulously over-documented life for the next little while, while she struggles to get her world back to normal. It's true that I don't have a lot of Internet journaling experience -- I had a Geocities webpage about decoupage for a while, back in the late 90's, and I lurk on some of those journaling message boards where everybody is hip and snarky and amusingly horrible to each other -- but I figure all I've got to do is follow Secra around the apartment with my camera phone and my voice recorder, for the next few days, and report back to you on her activities.

How hard can it be? Really?

While I'm in charge of *FootNotes,* however, I'd like to enforce a few temporary rules. This has nothing to do with me trying to run the show -- anyone who knows me knows that I am the LEAST attention-seeking puppet on the planet -- and everything to do with wanting to keep Secra from putting me in the microwave again. [Yeek.] Among the courtesies I believe we should all extend to her, as she works to get well:

We don't refer to Secra's current emotional difficulties as "Depression." In Pulology, it is referred to as "Mental Realignment." [As in, Mental Realignment, best remedied by a pair of Happy Pants and a ten-pack of Taco Bell Beef Baja Gorditas.]
We don't refer to Secra's current Girl Troubles as "Premenopause, Perimenopause or Menopause." In Pulology, it is referred to as "Reproductive Realignment." [As in, Let's all just be thankful she isn't able to PROCREATE anymore.]
We don't refer to Secra's current lack of a weekly paycheck as "Being Out Of A Job." In Pulology, it is referred to as "Career Realignment." [As in, Mom's not going to be able to pay your cell phone bill for the next couple of months, OK?]
We don't refer to Bill The Temporary Dirt Company Office Manager Guy as "that cold cretinous asswipe who sent Secra an e-mail ORDERING her to be 'happy' at the front desk at all times ... or else." As far as we're concerned, we're pretending that Bill The Temporary Dirt Company Office Manager Guy died in the same tragic 1984 plane crash that took Michael Jackson, Phil Spector, O.J. Simpson and Robert Blake.
If you sign the *FootNotes* guestbook, please refrain from trying to sell Secra automobiles or Viagra. She has need of neither.
If you are a career counselor, a recruiting agent or a "talent sourcer," and you have seen Secra's updated resume on Monster.com this week, DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES CALL HER APARTMENT AND LEAVE A MESSAGE ON HER ANSWERING MACHINE, REQUESTING THAT SHE COME IN FOR AN INTERVIEW. First of all, Secra isn't even going to THINK about job-hunting for at least another 2.5 weeks. [Read this: she'll start thinking about it right about the time her puny savings account gives out.] And second of all, Secra loathes "talent sourcers" almost as much as she loathes Bill The Temporary Dirt Company Office Manager Guy right now. She would rather walk down the street and apply for a job at the Webster Street Taco Bell than ever take a job through an employment agency. [As a matter of fact, if they'll give her a deal on a ten-pack of Baja Gorditas, Taco Bell may have just found their new Burrito Assembler.]
If you are Ed Kaz, make Secra a mix CD RIGHT NOW WE MEAN IT. [We've given up on ever being linked on your ridiculously popular blog, but that's OK. We were your harem before you even HAD a harem.]
If you are PeterCave, send Secra a kangaroo testicle key fob RIGHT NOW WE MEAN IT. Some day she'll have an office key again, and she'll need something to hang it on.
If you are Phil,, Secra's favorite *other* Internet journaler, take her up on that offer to write tandem entries about the next season of "Survivor" RIGHT NOW WE MEAN IT. She needs a project.
If you happen to own a copy of "The Silly Record" by Stoo Hample -- preferably still in the original record jacket -- please package it carefully, mail it to Secra at her top-secret home address [write to her and she'll supply it to you] and then send her a bill for the postage. Secra will write you into her will if you do this.

Those are all the rules I can think of for the moment, but if anything else comes to mind, I'll let you know. In the meantime, I think that if we all work together as a team, we can help pull our beloved Secra out of this current period of ~~Depression~~ ~~Perimenopause~~ ~~Unemployment~~ Life Realignment. And if not ... maybe we can resurrect the Decoupage Website instead. We wouldn't want this perfectly good expensive webspace going to waste, after all.

Sincerely,