Some boring crap for andy's amusement. Have fun playing in the crap. You sick fukk....
For some reason the Thong Song has hounded me the past few days. I don't mean that it's stuck in my head—thank God, thank God, that is not the case. But the memory—I remember being at Meagan's and her watching the video, the…who did that video?... the singer bouncing around on the beach, and I was so horrified. And that's the memory that hounds me—the guy backflipping on the beach on Meagan's TV. Because it's so fucking ridiculous and terrible.
So the only remedy was to replace … the singer with Amish, bounding around those beaches.
That's weird, huh. Yeah. I know.
The purpose of this post, though, is to entertain Goathead.
I was handed a black-and-white candy the other day. Black-and-white seems so antiquated and classy, you know? Like old movies, old photos. But I wondered: when black-and-white photos were new, did black-and-white symbolize modern technology?
I have to go pick up some pie charts now. I've probably printed 150 pie charts in the past two days.
I've spent this week composing pie charts on the performance and efficiency of two groups of typists—one group I'm familiar with and the other I don't really know. The boss just handed me a forest worth of paper and told me to get to chartin. And despite the confidential nature of these charts—she didn't want the typists knowing we were charting their work—I had to print them out in the typists' room, because that's where the color printer is.
Anyway, none of these typists are talking to me anymore. The three I've said hello to haven't even looked at me.
I was only following orders!
Sunday, 3 am: I stumble out of Garrett's. With fresh memories of last summer's almost-arrest for walking while under the legal blood alcohol limit for driving, I knew I'd have to run home. I fell outside my old church and am now, in my office, digging out bits of pebble with a paper clip. This is largely ineffective.
The woman on the other side of my cubicle spends a good two hours a day on the phone with homeowning-type places. The past two days has been all refrigerator companies—every thirty minutes, with increasing frustration, I hear "I bought a refrigerator on July 15, and it's rattling every time—"
And this goes on and on, and the surreal part is that the boss's open door is about five feet away.
Other days it's roof tiles, or new carpeting, or linoleum.
The computer system is pretty much fucked today. I'm beginning to doubt I'll even be able to post this. I can get to google but can't open gmail or any other pages.
So the only remedy was to replace … the singer with Amish, bounding around those beaches.
That's weird, huh. Yeah. I know.
The purpose of this post, though, is to entertain Goathead.
I was handed a black-and-white candy the other day. Black-and-white seems so antiquated and classy, you know? Like old movies, old photos. But I wondered: when black-and-white photos were new, did black-and-white symbolize modern technology?
I have to go pick up some pie charts now. I've probably printed 150 pie charts in the past two days.
I've spent this week composing pie charts on the performance and efficiency of two groups of typists—one group I'm familiar with and the other I don't really know. The boss just handed me a forest worth of paper and told me to get to chartin. And despite the confidential nature of these charts—she didn't want the typists knowing we were charting their work—I had to print them out in the typists' room, because that's where the color printer is.
Anyway, none of these typists are talking to me anymore. The three I've said hello to haven't even looked at me.
I was only following orders!
Sunday, 3 am: I stumble out of Garrett's. With fresh memories of last summer's almost-arrest for walking while under the legal blood alcohol limit for driving, I knew I'd have to run home. I fell outside my old church and am now, in my office, digging out bits of pebble with a paper clip. This is largely ineffective.
The woman on the other side of my cubicle spends a good two hours a day on the phone with homeowning-type places. The past two days has been all refrigerator companies—every thirty minutes, with increasing frustration, I hear "I bought a refrigerator on July 15, and it's rattling every time—"
And this goes on and on, and the surreal part is that the boss's open door is about five feet away.
Other days it's roof tiles, or new carpeting, or linoleum.
The computer system is pretty much fucked today. I'm beginning to doubt I'll even be able to post this. I can get to google but can't open gmail or any other pages.
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