From The Front Desk To Your Desk...

Thursday, September 30, 2004

NEWS!!!

This morning the office interns were blamed for the disappearance of pens and pencils throughout the building. The missing items were taken over the course of the last three days from assistant Kelly Jasminson’s corner desk. The interns, who have been blamed by the assistant pool for the theft of three reams of photo quality paper, a duffle bag full of mouse pads, eating all of the good doughnuts, and the loss of the Peterson Account have never been formally brought up on charges until now. Mark Hanson, an assistant that sits across from Jamison quickly changed the subject when asked his thoughts on the theft, “Her pens? I don’t know…um…did you see 'The Apprentice' last night?”

Dog on the loose! A golden retriever has set up shop in the Ladies room on the 8th floor after having the run of the office for the better part of the week. The dog, a suspected pet, seems to belong to no one and have a penchant for defecating in awkward, seemingly impossible locations. The wily canine has so far given security the slip on several occasions, despite repeated attempts to trap the dog with increasingly complicated rope and pulley systems. “A dog I can take, it’s the shit that really sucks.”

“Good news from the third floor,” reports correspondent Albert Franks, “I totally avoided that fatty in shipping!” Franks first reported on the fatty, none other then our own Darlie MacNorma, as being, “into him,” four months ago after the company picnic. Since then Franks has repeatedly updated his coworkers on the third floor on Darlie’s failed attempts to “Jump his hump.” Unfortunately for Darlie, Franks has released several statements publicly citing his “No xxxL Love” policy. Darlie met all inquiries with rolled eyes and the middle finger.

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Respect Your Elders

On my way to work I pass by lots of cool things. There is this house that seems to be falling apart a little bit more every day, yet the owners appear to have the money to drive not one but two late model Mercedes Benzes. I pass this state trooper car that is always parked in the median of the road and no one ever sits in it, yet people always slow to a crawl to pass it. But the weirdest thing that I pass, has got to be the Old Man on Dulongpre.

If you passed him in the street on foot you would probably never really think nothing much of him to look at him. He looks like a normal old guy, what with the baggy skin and the frumpy clothes and the “golfers hat.” But every day I drive by him on my way to work, as I’m sure many other people do, and I’m treated to the same show. He stands at the corner, right by the stop sign waiting for you to stop. If you make the mistake of looking at him (something that is hard NOT to do, considering that you have to look around to make sure you don’t T-bone another car) his eyes go wide and a smile spreads across his face like you are a long lost friend. He will the probably slap his knee and shake his head as if he is remembering the good old days when you and he would have our misadventures. He then proceeds to hold his thumb out and ask for a ride. You ignore him of course. He then becomes insistent, you guys are friends after all, and emphatically points to your car and ”thumbs it” again. You ignore him and drive off and then if you are quick enough you can watch him in the rear view before the next car stops he is sure to be cursing at you and actually shaking his fists. It’s quite a show.

He’s there almost everyday, and never in the afternoon. He’s always in different clothing so I assume he isn’t homeless. Now I’m sure I could make some smarmy remark about old people being shipped to prison islands, or about crazies in general. But I think if anything the old man teaches me two valuable lessons. The first is that I hope to never be alone and crazy and old in the world. One might be okay, but being all three is a sad state to find oneself in. The second lesson he teaches me is the begging for rides along Dulongpre is a lost cause, and while he may have his reasons (dementia being high on the list here), his inflexibility to change seems to be working against him. So I thank the Old Man for showing me how much a value my few relationships with family and friends, and that change could be a good thing.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Staw Cwossed Wuvers

I was walking into my local Starbucks, as I and many of the work-a-day robots of the world are prone to do, and there was nothing at all out of place. There were way to many folks in the line, and way to few workers and while I know that they are trying there hardest I am at best a creature with little patience. So I’m standing there and then these two people get in line behind me. They seemed touristy…dressed in bright clothes with fanny packs and fresh sunburns, their deep Texan accents made them look like visitors from afar. I really didn’t care…accept that they were loud, and when I say loud I mean they were really, really loud.

When the entered they were fighting about something, directions maybe, anyhow they had brought there little fight into the beanery with them and as the minutes ticked on and the baristas crawled through one order and then another, the fighting got louder and louder. At first I was the first to notice, then the whole place seemed to be doing that thing where everyone wanted to look, was trying to look, but was fighting not to. Things got a little crazy when she punched him the in chest and he gave her the biggest freaking purple nurple that I have every seen. One of the barista’s actual comment was “holy crap he grabbed her boobs!” This of course made the whole place snicker.

Either way she started to cry really hard. Blubber even. After a second he started to cry to, and by now, I had forgotten about my Mocha Frap (so had that lazy freaking Barista) and watched with horror as the two of the embraced and started talking baby talk to each other. “I sawey baby” and “you huwt me wuver.” They actually used the word "wuver!" Then they shared a really deep kiss and walked out without having ordered a thing. If this wasn’t the most surreal thing I have ever seen then I don’t know what is. At the very least it may be the most surreal thing I have seen this month. Either way it got me to thinking, if that’s what love is, then I guess I’m pretty cool with being single for the foreseeable future.

Friday, September 17, 2004

Scullduggery Is Afoot!

Those damn kids with their baggy pantaloons and hip-hopping rapifying muzack! They’re all hoodlums that’s what I say! Everyone under 20 is just asking for it! Well I say we give it to them! Let’s take away the one thing that all teens from New York to Seattle to LA have in common! Let’s kick them out of the one place where you can go to hang out when Mom and Dad need to unload! Let us remove the teens of this great nation from the one place where they can congregate freely and openly with friends and foes outside of school on those rare occasions you actually manage to run them out of the house.

Some may say that I am being extreme, but those people need to open their eyes and read the headlines: as of today, Malls across the country are creating curfews for the teenagers that call the Mall a home away from home. Follow this craptastic link . Is it to surprising that the mall at the forefront of this is the elitist Mecca anyone who grew up in Ohio (or went to school there) knows as The Easton Towne Center.

Maybe its just nostalgia for the time I spent hanging out at my local mall, but I think that this is crap. Organizers of the national mall curfew state that they are doing this to make other shoppers less intimidated and to encourage kids to better spend their time. Apparently someone even thinks that by sending the kids home during Mall Adult Swim will force them to spend time with their families or with their schoolwork. These goons fail to realize that the whole reason the Teen Mall population is out there anyhow is because they are trying to get away from their families and their responsibilities! I ask the question that should be springing into all of our minds now: where are our suburban teens going to hang out, because one things is damn certain…they are not going to be hanging out at home.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

The Meaning Of It All

What do I want out of life? Part of me asks this as a simple rhetorical question, a way of kick off an entry that I feel more of an obligation to write then a need to write. But some part of me also wants the ansewers, and that part of me wants them now. I guess it's my nature, but it feels like I need to get on with it.

Sigh...now all I have to figure out what "it" is and then I'm set. I'm off to find myself...talk to you soon.