Smells Like Teen Spirit

So here's one:

I've been nominated to be part of my company's "Culture Club." Which is basically something straight out of The Office. The party-planning committee. Excellent.

I'm wondering what it is about my personality that made people think I belong on this committee. Can they just look at my handwriting and tell that I spent many a high school night writing bubble letters on posters to be hung at pep rallies? Is there something in my walk that betrays my year-long post as the freshman class activities director in college? Does my voice reveal the fact that, at one point in my life, I could be found on the sidelines of every school sporting event wearing a short skirt in school colors, yelling rhyming lines with corresponding movements, most of them involving my ass?

Whatever the case, and completely regardless of what I have become since (which, I like to think, is pretty damn jaded), I was nominated publicly to be on this committee and therefore had absolutely no say in the matter.

We had our first meeting today. My one contribution was pointing out the fact that there's no way in hell we can shoot a video for an agency-wide film contest on the same day as the agency-sponsored Race for the Cure. Our fearless leader wagged her finger at me and said she thinks she'll keep me. This, despite the fact that when she asked me if I had any suggestions for our upcoming carnival-themed happy hour, I asked her if I had to go.

I guess I'll go, and maybe even help decorate, but I DON'T know any TracyLocke cheers. I know what you're thinking.