everyone's wearing jackets but me

Oh, internet, I am having A Day.

I actually wrote a whole post about all of the things going wrong, and then I looked at it and thought, welp, this is whiny. So I am just leaving this last part, because it is at least sort of amusing.

-My firm actually hired a cute guy for once! This never ever happens, and I met him Monday, and he is both hilarious and excellent looking--think Dileep Rao in Inception, but skinnier and with shorter hair (same heart-stopping smile, though, hnnnnnng forever). He is adorkable in exactly the way I like, and it's been awhile since I've felt this kind of WHOA HEY OH MAN FJDSFHJDSKF attraction for someone, so, you know, hooray.

Problem: today I found out where his desk is. To get there, you must: go down a hallway, go down another hallway, go down a third hallway, turn into a fourth mini hallway, open a door, turn a corner, open another door and turn another corner. HOW DO YOU CASUALLY STOP BY SOMEONE'S DESK WHEN GETTING THERE MIGHT AS WELL INVOLVE SLAYING THE NEMEAN LION, YOU GUYS? I mean, seriously, I feel like I should don a sword and go on a quest for him, this is ridiculous.

It's a stupid problem, but come on, universe, make it a little easier on me, huh? Everyone else in my office is married, over the age of 50, or a gigantic asswipe, PLEASE JUST SLOW-PITCH ME THIS ONE.

IN CONCLUSION, HERE IS SCOTTY CAAN LOOKING NOTHING LIKE A WAITER TO IMPROVE YOUR DAYS, WHICH I HOPE ARE GOING BETTER THAN MINE:



♥

COME TAKE MY INTERNET AWAY I AM USING IT FOR EVIL AGAIN

So, my day has improved significantly for two reasons. The first is that there is some truth to the old adage "Someone has it worse than you," and today there is a face to couple with that saying. Somewhere out there, somewhere in the word, someone has it worse than me, and his name is Jed Bartlett Martin Sheen. Seriously, how much do you think Martin Sheen regrets getting out of bed this morning? I'm gonna go ahead and bet it's a lot.

SECONDLY, hermette and I had a conversation based on a conversation I had with andrealyn that has sadly been lost to the annals of my email IS IN THE COMMENTS, andrealyn IS MY SAVIOR HOORAY. My point is, most of the ideas I put forth here can be credited directly to andrealyn; hermette's genius is, of course, all her own.

( In which Danny and Steve are...ducklings... )

IGNORE THE PIANO AND LOOK AT THESE DUCKLINGS. THESE DUCKLINGS ARE THE DUCKLINGS THAT COULD BE DANNY AND STEVE:




IN CONCLUSION: FANDOM. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN. YOU KNOW YOU DO.

ETA: OKAY, LJ IS BEING A DICK AND NOT SENDING COMMENT NOTIFS WHAT THE HELL *FRANTICALLY REFRESHES POST*

ALSO

ALSO

QUACK 'EM DANNO

ETA SOME MORE: HOLY FUCK YOU GUYS aredblush DREW DUCKLING DANNY & STEVE IN THE COMMENTS DSJFDSFHDSJFDS