mayhem

Now as these pre-winter days may blend together, my mind refuses to keep up with with the madness at headquarters. Erin, the reporter of the north has vanished to Mexico to wed a cook. And Kristin, dearing reporter in the west has fled to follow her, bask in liquor and soak up the sun. The clan that has traipsed south has left my closest columnist and I in the dust of the barren Dallas newscape. Flooding with too much to do, we feel the office is drowning and the only way to keep up is to boil wine with fruit at night and slurp it during the day. Some wine and chocolate may momentarily calm our nerves, but these wretched women leaving us behind have our cages rattles and ready to seige our editor.

Some will call to provide us with hesistant information pertaining to the story line - but its due soon, and now the editors are up our asses. They call back - information has changed and sources have fallen through, but despite these frustrating, unreliable manics, I manage to get numerous story lines through the mojo wire.

Headquarters is up our ass, and without the tyrannized red head manning the fort, defending our expense reports,and proving our work worthy, we're screaming up and down the halls, paperwork is flying, and the mojo wire just went of the hook.

They've called in reinforcements - from the west. Amy is at the other end of the mojo wire, processing the ongoing stream of useless, erratic information. The intern is scared as I bark at her to get this marvelous machine working."What have you done?" demanding at her to fix it- and quickly - our notes may only be good for a few hours, before the wine starts to take hold, who knows what information will be true.

My columnist and I sit at the typewriter, hours of work, predetermined. The young intern finally puts the wire back together, presses the button, and sooner or later, the editor is on the other end of the wire, transmitting our notoriously vital stories.

Still drowning in these futile sources & phone calls, there seems to be more reinforcements on the other end, but my beloved columnist and I must find more to expense this ravaging week. But the wine hasn't been enough for Brittney. She just quit.