It’s a well known fact that Monday mornings blow ass.

Ask any person on the planet. Housewives, kids, businessmen, I bet you even homeless people hate Monday mornings. And really, you’d think Monday’s would be pretty awesome. That idea of starting all over again should be refreshing, instead, it’s really just a giant pain in the ass.

And that pain becomes massive when you walk into work and find out you have a meeting with the big boss man.

See, for someone who is at least semi-important, a meeting with the big boss probably wouldn’t matter. I, however, consider myself lucky when my access pass isn’t declined at the door. I’m about as low on the totem pole as it gets around here.

Needless to say, me being called into a meeting is a sure sign that something has gone horribly wrong.

“Hello Lea.” James Ross smiles at me as I step into his office and I nod in response.

Oh yes, I am going to be that painfully awkward girl who has no idea what to say to the editor in chief. Like there’s any other way this would play out.

“I know you’re wondering why I called you in this morning, so I’ll get right to the point.” He clears his throat and begins shuffling through the papers on his desk. “You’re being sent on an assignment. Jive records got in touch with us a few months back, and they’d like someone to go out with Nsync, and keep a daily online journal for the fans. Interview the guys, talk about the shows, yada, yada, yada.”

Holy freaking crap.

“And… and you…. You wanted me?”

This is by far the best news anyone has, or probably will ever receive. Just when I thought I was a completely insignificant member of the Rolling Stone staff, I’m being offered my very own assignment.

It’s official… I am awesome.

“Well…no.” He frowns. “I’m going to be honest with you Lea… nobody else wanted this crap ass job and I wanted to turn it down, but that Johnny Wright is a persistent bastard and he wouldn’t hear it. Someone mentioned that you’d gone to see them a couple years ago, so you’re kind of the last resort here.”

I should probably be upset that I’m being put down. And maybe when the sheer awesomeness of going on tour with Nsync wears off, I will be. But for now, I’m just going to bask in the glory of it all.

Let me guess… you probably thought I was some ultra hip chick and not at all into boy bands, right?

Wrong.

As a matter of fact, I love them. And I still totally have my New Kids On The Block bed sheets from when I was a kid. Come to think of it… I should probably pack those.

So yes, I am proof positive that you can still be hip and like boy bands. But then again, saying that you’re hip makes you kind of un-hip, doesn’t it? Alright… just forget the part where I said I was hip, ok?

“You’ve been here almost a year…. You know our writers take themselves too seriously to want to tour with a boy band. And you… well… even I’m not entirely sure what your function here is, but… I figure… how hard can this be, right?”

“I’m actually… well… I’m an intern. I don’t even get paid sir.”

“Oh for Christ sake…” He mutters and shakes his head. “Alright… as of this moment, you’re a junior writer. I’ll work out your salary with Mr. Wright. Provided that you’re accepting the job, of course.”

“Are you kidding me? Who would turn this down?” I laugh and shake my head.

“Every other writer here.” He rolls his eyes before sliding a contract in front of me. “Sign at the bottom. You report for duty in one month.”

Hell to the yes!

I practically skip out of Mr. Ross’ office and to the bathroom, where I fully intend on letting my inner 12 year old girl celebrate. I check the stalls and once I’m sure that I’m absolutely alone, I go into complete freak out mode.

Dancing, squealing, jumping up and down. You get the picture.

Just as I begin a fantastic round of the cabbage patch, the door swings open and I do my very best to contain my excitement by fiddling with my hair.

Oh you crazy Rolling Stone senior writers… you have no idea what you passed on. But, it’s working out in my favor, so obviously… I win.