I (Don't) Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone.

I had bangs cut the other day. I was trying to look like Natasha Khan, but apparently look more like Cleopatra. At least according to Yogapants, who blew by my cubicle muttering "Nice Cleopatra wig" and to an unidentified ahole who burst through the door on his cellphone, glanced at me, and then said to whatever other ahole he was talking to "Hold on, let me ask Cleopatra here. Where's the conference room?"

But I'd rather look like Cleopatra any day over what my (former) friend and (ex) work wife compared me to. "You look like a Ramone!" she exclaimed as she approached my desk, "You look just like Joey Ramone!"

I wanted to knock each and every one of her teeth down her throat with the nearest Penal Code, but I remained calm. Stoically looking past her, I quietly wished the hammer of God to rain locusts and famine down upon her and her family this winter.

Our work marriage is being annulled.