I’ve lured you here under false pretenses.
This is not, as the headline implies, a cheeky column about Gov. Rick Perry. Instead, I’m here to dazzle you with the depth of my petty narcissism. In journalism, we call this writing a “30 column.” You can just call it indulgent.
If I were a more honorable person, I would forgo this exercise entirely. Yet — as you may have assumed from the not insignificant bulk of text following this paragraph — I feel compelled to say a few things.
As my vainglorious parting gesture, I would like to take these next few hundred words to thank my co-workers in the most obnoxious way I know how — by plastering our inside jokes in a public forum.
To Viv: Only long, grueling hours at the Texan could have forged the bond we’ve made over the years. That, and our love of sushi. You’re going to be a fantastic editor, but try not to make me look too bad by comparison. Also, your Latin is impeccable.
To Dave: Oh, David Dixon Francis Player. I will not miss your pranks, like the time you hacked into my Facebook account and made everyone think my favorite band was Maroon 5, but I will miss your mischievous nature and mildly disturbing sense of humor. Enjoy UT Law; I hope they teach you Latin there.
To Doug: I think we first bonded over Clifbars in summer 2010, and our camaraderie has only deepened since our discussion of macadamia nut vs. oatmeal raisin. I’ve since graduated to Larabars, but let’s stay friends.
To Sus: Fellow obsessive blog-reader, egg-poacher and trampoline ethusiast: Your quirkiness keeps everything interesting. But do consider getting a Facebook.
Heath: I’ll never forget reading your “gazelle” viewpoint out loud at our editorial board Passover seder and crying with laughter until my mascara made a river into my tear ducts and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom because it was really painful and sort of embarrassing. I guess what I’m saying is that I’ll really miss you.
Dan: Daniel Isaac Treadway! Thanks for always reminding me that there’s room for levity in this job, whether it’s by Skyping with your Canadian grandma or playing terrifying games of Chatroulette. Or, my personal favorite: the time you dragged me out of the Texan basement and onto the communication plaza and forced me to bounce a giant rubber ball into the air for five minutes so I wouldn’t go crazy from stress (I think this was soon after Dave hid my stress ball). You’re one of the funniest feminists I know.
Claire: I’m glad we could commiserate about the pain of budget cuts, the frustration of WHERE IS OUR DAMN WEBSITE?, the delicate touch of horror that is Texan orientation and the general asshattery we encounter on a daily basis. You’re not the David Cameron to my Queen Elizabeth because that analogy never quite worked, but to use another analogy that doesn’t actually work at all, I consider you the Woodward to my Bernstein (see, you get to be the cool one).
Doug W: The Texan was very fortunate to snag such a dedicated adviser. I know we drive you crazy sometimes, but your experience and advice has helped nudge the Texan in the right direction. May you have many critiques in your future.
And, lastly, to my readers: Forgive me for writing this. In my defense, I was under the influence of paint fumes.