"There's One in Every Family, Sire. TWO in Mine, Actually..."

He inspires strangely Nabokovian angst, making everyone in sight groan exasperatedly, "Really?...Really?! Yeesh!"

Okay, maybe that's a bit of a stretch. (Seriously. Me saying "Yeesh"? You all know I have no problem working way bluer than that.) But while much of my tenure in DC has been good--including but certainly not limited to my work, which I was very nervous about at the onset--I am already growing weary of something on which I think all corporate peons can relate to me.

I am currently entering week four of a five-week intensive classroom training session to be a background investigator. It was insanely overwhelming at first, but as I've become more comfortable with the material, built a rapport with my instructors, and made some nice friendships amongst my classmates, it's become easier and more pleasant. That last part is particularly helpful since, of the thirteen people who are in this session, at least eight of them are in their twenties as well. Yay peer group!

Of course, the problem is that there were still four other people in class who are not our age. And while I'm not exactly a fan of broad stereotyping, the truth is that this job, which is very much computer-intensive, is proving to be much more of a challenge for the old folks than it is for us young whippersnappers.

Consider this: of the four elder statespeople, two of them combined at one point during the first week to generate easily 90% of all the questions asked of our instructors. Now, don't get me wrong: I've asked my share of questions myself, and I certainly don't judge anyone who does because, for the most part, there really are no stupid questions--especially when you're learning something new and radically different for the very first time. But when we were shown a program three days ago, and you still don't know how to open a damn file? Well, sir, maybe this job just isn't for you.

What's really interesting is that this whole thing proved too much for one of this dynamic duo, who resigned from our class and switched positions in the company to better accommodate his abilities. (And I sincerely wish him all the best.) But as it turns out, question askers are like testicles. When one of the testicles needs to be excised--for whatever horrid, unfortunate, devastating reason--the lone nut psychically takes over and performs double duty, so that the, er, output doesn't suffer any noticeable change. So it is with question askers. With his partner in crime gone, the lone confused older gentleman somehow managed to pick up that slack and ask even more dumb questions than he did before.

And so he has become...That Guy.

You know what I mean...

That Guy who takes three and a half hours to do what everyone else was able to complete in roughly two hours.

That Guy who mumbles, hums, and narrates to himself while he struggles in the seat behind you, distracting your attention while you try desperately to beat the goddamn poker game on your BlackBerry.

That Guy who insists upon talking to you when you're trying to read because God forbid you have one quiet moment to enjoy your book, damn it.

Yup. That Guy.

I could go on but, really, I think we've all known someone like that. Hell, maybe you are That Guy yourself. If you think you might be, please, do us all a favor and STFU already. We'd really appreciate it.

Of course, I bet I know what you're all wondering. Who is That Guy?

What? I didn't mention it right off that bat? I thought I did. Hmm... Well, it's probably best to just keep it hidden away to myself.

But believe me, he's there. And who's got two thumbs and can't freaking wait to get out of classroom training as a result?

This Guy.

Radio Gaga

I know, I know.

I have been horribly negligent around these parts. It's true, I get it. I have excuses, but like the old expression goes, excuses are like assholes: everyone's got one, and they all stink.

So you probably don't care that, since my last post, when I was just getting myself acquainted with the greater DC Metro area, life has been a veritable whirlwind of emotion and, generally, awesomeness.

Where to begin, where to begin. Well...

After one week of working I managed to find myself feeling like I was in way over my head but it was okay because so were the rest of the people in my class and a lot of them are really nice so it was good to think that I might make some friends after all but I was still lonely because I missed Karen really bad and was hoping she would find something soon so she could come up here but then she told me she felt like she'd have better chances finding work if she was local so I talked to my landlord and he was cool with her coming up here to stay so she took care of her stuff down in Texas then packed up her car and drove up here and that made both of us really super happy and it's been general domestic bliss ever since except for the fact that we both suspect my roommate is resentful of the two of us for some strange reason but despite that we haven't really let us get it down and instead we've channeled our energy into improving the state of my humble basement including but not limited to getting these sweet stainless steel coasters from Bed Bath & Beyond as well as nifty household stuff like a pizza stone and a pie plate that we were going to use to make a chocolate pecan pie for a Pi Day party on Sunday but Karen got sick last week with what we thought was a cold but ended up being a sinus infection and she hasn't started shaking it until today so we had to buy a pie from the store and no one showed up anyway but that was fine because Emily and Sam are really good people who let us borrow their futon mattress so neither of us has to sleep on an air mattress anymore and besides between they two and my Princeton friends in the area and Steph and John who are also super cute and oh yeah can't forget about Alicia who comes over for dinner and 24 every Monday night and did I mention that Karen's watching 24 too and I think that's super sweet and I couldn't be happier right now and really feel like my life nay our life is beginning to fall into place really really nicely and it looks just as great as I'd always imagined.

There, I think that about sums it up.

Well, except for one thing.

Turns out I've undergone an interesting and somewhat alarming change since I've gotten here. One that I never anticipated I would ever experience. One that took me quite by surprise.

It all started when Karen insisted upon playing me the video for the ubiquitous Lady Gaga hit "Bad Romance". Now, at first, I thought the song was silly, and it drove me nuts every time I realized that it had gotten stuck in my head. But after a few such instances, it was hard to deny that the song was getting into my brain. I fought it for a long while. I kept it buried deep inside, but it was getting harder and harder to refuse.

Could this really be happening? Could I... ...actually like "Bad Romance"?

I tested the waters of my newfound admission the weekend before last, as Karen and I ventured into downtown DC on a museum double-date with Steph and John. While in the car on the way to lunch, I bet John a dollar that he couldn't find "Bad Romance" on the radio before we got to the Olive Garden. Equipped with Sirius XM, he began flipping through the channels.

Friends, it took him a mere ten minutes. Found the song, and we listened to it in its entirety.

Later that night, on the drive home, we tried again. This time it took us fifteen minutes, but there it was once again.

And so it was done: I had to confess I was a fan.

The final blow came the next day. We were in Target, searching for coasters (in what proved to be a frustratingly elusive effort), when we wandered into the music department. Karen was slyly suggesting that I might want to buy something, and I was not fighting this suggestion. And yet, every time I walked past either the L or the G section, it was nowhere to be found. The moment of reckoning was clearly not to be. Another time, perhaps?

Then, as we had just given up, we walked past one final end cap--and there it was. Askew, out of place, and glaring at me behind that black vinyl sleeve. The piercing eyes of a woman declaring proudly, "I'm a free bitch, baby."

How could I not buy it?

And so a page has been turned. I'm not going to be ashamed of my purchase. And, in fact, every person I've mentioned it to has agreed with me that it's good stuff!

So if you're looking for me in the near future, my sincerest apologies. I'll try to be better about blogging and keeping up, and I'll do all I can to make my online presence more clearly felt.

Know this though: you can call all you want, but there's no one home, and you're not gonna reach my telephone.