So I think everyone’s noticed we had some problems with the Doogleheimer & Schmitt website recently.  Like this is so not my job, but even I know when something’s all wrong and no one can even see our website.  Well, not me — I mean the people who call and tell me they can’t see the website.

Anyway Brad’s been locked in his little room for days trying to get everything restored.  I asked him what was wrong (not because I wanted to know but because I wanted to look like I cared), and he said something about our domain registration and some d-bag who “sniped” it and then he just kept repeating ”All Our Base Are Belong To Them,” like he had some kind of weird Tourette’s or something.  I left him alone after that.

But finally Phil gives me some information that like makes sense to normal people.  He says that all we can do is make some kind of protest at some big company that makes all the rules about all the websites everywhere.  So of course I say I know someone there and can get us back on track.

Unfortunately that’s not entirely true.  By “know someone” it might be a little truer to say “can probably get some help from directory assistance,” and by “get us back on track,” I should probably say “can convince someone there to help us if I send them a pallet of free product.”

So I shut my door and start to work my patented Kelsi magic.  And voila, four days and $23,671 later I have a judgment in our favor and the website is back up.  Of course Brad was an absolute wet-blanket and said something about it being a “peer-reviewed victory“.  I don’t know much about that; I just hope I get the credit I’m due.  Like a big bonus check.  Or a new purse.  Either way, I’m good.

You know that I’m not one for harsh words and strong language, but I have to say that right now things just suck at the office.  Of course, I’ll tell you why.

It started the day before yesterday, when I was curling my hair at my desk before this big client meeting.  I was all dressed to impress and just needed to give my locks just that little extra bounce.  It’s my signature style, that bounce, you know?  So there I was.  And apparently I also had a fan on and my little coffee mug warmer going and I might also have had a few extra power strips plugged into the wall.  None of this matters, though.  The point is that the power went out and I could not finsh curling my hair.

So Phil and Brad do whatever it is they do.  Maybe they called someone; I don’t know.  But they come around and tell everyone that somehow there was like this cascade of circuit breaker failures, and though they could get the power back on in a couple of hours, the air conditioning for the whole office was blown out.  And to top it all off, apparently the landlord wasn’t going to be able to get to it for like three days because of some clause in our contract and some trouble we had a year or so ago.

So the rest of the day it was rough, but I left after lunch and it was all fine.  This morning though it was so hot.  And not the good kind of hot, like standing in line behind Brad Pitt at the Aspen Bulgari store right on Galena Street.  Not, it’s the kind like .. like there’s no air conditioning in the building.  Of course Chastity is prancing around in a bikini, saying that it helps her radiate excess hotness more effectively.  But when I see Chip and Dale walk by in their little man-shorts, I feel like I need to take another long lunch.

Well soon enough, everyone is walking around the office in their unmentionables, and in case I need to repeat this, Brad Pitt does not work here.  So I’m treated to a nonstop parade of the most regrettable-looking bodies imaginable.  I was seriously tempted to go home sick, because I was sick.  Sick of looking at Rachel and Tom and Ned and Ginger and Brad and everyone else who couldn’t help themselves but stop by my office to ask me some question about accounts or invoices or something.  As if that were important!  Duh!  I have feelings too, you know!

So the good news is that I got the rest of the week off to recuperate from my mental trauma at having to watch this gnarly office scene that looked like the Victoria’s Secret Lingerie Show done by Jerry Springer.  The even better news is that Tom’s giving us all the afternoon off on Friday for a pool party at his house as a reward for being so nice to each other while we waited for the AC to get fixed.  Whoopee.  Maybe I’ll get asked to judge the bikini contest.