For a while now, I've been trying to find a suitable pseudonym for the new chick in our office. It was going to be Minnie Mouse since at first, she came off as quiet and meek. Not such the case now. Then I found out how much she was into hip-hop and breakdancing, so her name was going to be Break Girl. Too simple, I thought. But after Friday's conversation, I think Captain Obvious is perfect.

Action!

One of the asinine things we're now required to do as part of our "employment duties" is to scan the newspaper each day for articles about our company, cut them out, and present them to her. Think back to your 4th grade class where you had to report on some current event, snip said event out of the newspaper and then paste it onto a sheet of wide-ruled with a paragraph write-up. Yeah, we have to do something similar to that sans the paragraph. As Micro-Manager explained it, it will help to sharpen our writing skills. Funny, but usually writing does that instead of taking five minutes out the day to go clipping through the Metro section for some blurb.

Then again, what do I know?

It's Friday, which is my day, so I head on over to the new girl's cube for the paper. She's reading this week's Creative Loafing and listening to some Big L when Micro-Manager storms up…growling, no less.

"Good morning," we both chirp.

"Grrrr!"

"What's wrong, girl? Is there a fire in the old barn?" I say. As you can tell, I really don't give a shit at this point. Later on that day, she will come to ask what I'm working on, and I'll tell her that I'm just killing time until five o'clock. Back to the present.

"I have another meeting at noon and I was supposed to go to lunch with some friends. Grrrr!"

The new girl is reading through the paper and says "Oh, this weekend is Pride weekend."

"I know!" says Micro-Manager. "The crowds are going to be huge in Midtown and Downtown and Buckhead this week. It's going to be great business for the city." I'm thinking she might also get laid this weekend, but I don't say it. What followed next, though, was priceless.

"The Dykes on Bikes Parade is going to be on Saturday. Micro-Manager, are you going?"

"What?"

"The Dykes on Bikes parade. I figured since you had a motorcycle and were a lesbian you might be interested in going."

"I am not a lesbian."

"You're not? I just figured you were because of the bike and the sorority and Lifetime…"

"Well, I'm NOT." And she went in her office, closed the door, then came out five minutes later saying she was going to a meeting "off-campus".

I wonder if it was with Stella Artois. Kidding!