My Job is BOOOOORING and so are You!

So much so that I'm sssssssssssssssnooooooooooooooooring!

(About the 'you' being boring part, it might not be true, or maybe it is. If so, you should really try to work on this. Maybe that's why we haven't hung out in a while. Work on your excitement level. Thanks.)

Anyway, here's some really great music to make you less boring/more tolerable to be around.

These guys, The War on Drugs, have got it! I dig their jingle-jangle rockstar sound, and they are waaaaaay more fun than the actual War on Drugs which, no no, don't even get me started on that.

Have fun!

OFFICE JOBS!

Funny news. So, there's this woman at my work, H____, but my friends and I call her "Popcorn." Do let me explain! So, it's the first day of work on the floor, after training. It's Friday. People are freakin' out, riding motorized scooters/segways and shooting Nerf guns all over. I'm thinking, This is one hell-of-a crazy place. Everybody's workin' for the weekend! It's true! Anyway, so these Nerf darts are flying and zooming all over the office, and all of a sudden there's a shriek, followed by a "WHAT THE FUCK?!" and an "Alright! Who hit my FUCKING ear?! That FUCKING hurt!!" Repeat, repeat and repeat the unnecessary loud vulgarities. Well, if you didn't guess. Someone hit H_____ Popcorn in the ear with a Nerf dart. People are tittering, whispering and giggling in their cubes around the floor. I'm shocked. Remember, it's my first-ish day with these people. I'm thinking, What the hell is wrong with my co-workers? A few minutes after the incident I have to ask my team lead a question and I mention this woman's outburst. She says, "Oh yeah, her" knowingly. Apparently this H_____ Popcorn is a troublemaker. Alright, so comes in the Popcorn part. Next Monday,one of my buddies, TJ, was recounting the story to someone who was OOO (out-of-office) Friday and he didn't want to keep sayin' "fuck" because he wasn't sure about this co-workers vulgarities tolerance so he implanted "Popcorn" to fill, thus Ms. H____ became "Popcorn" -- for that reason, and also I didn't care to know her real name which would result in making her seem human.


Fast forward to yesterday. I drank a lot of coffee so naturally, I needed to relieve myself. I walk into the bathroom startled to find that I woke Popcorn from her little cat nap on the couch. She jolts up and groggily rubs her eyes. Apparently she'd been there for a while because her hair was matted down and she seemed discombobulated. I just think, What a weirdo, and go about my business. Then, this morning, Amber comes up to me and she says, "Did you happen to see H_____ sleeping on the couch in the bathroom yesterday?" And I said, "Yeah! That was weird." And Amber said, "Yeah, I know, right? She's fired!" And I said, "What!? No way!" and she said, "She's done it at least two times before." And I said, "That's crazy!" And Amber said, "You know what else is crazy?"And then she proceeded to tell me a story about when she first started here. Everyone was going through training together, and in order to get to know each other better, each employee was asked to share a funny/embarrassing story. So everyone's talking about their puppies, or families, or vacations they took or whatever, and it comes to be Popcorn's turn. Can you guess what she said? Well, here. Do you remember those Tylenol killings back in the 80s? Popcorn stated she dated one of the suspected men. But he didn't do it! He didn't kill anybody with Tylenol, he only killed the guy who turned him in. WHAT?!?! What?!? Excuse me?!? She's either lying or telling the truth, but both make me scratch my head searching for a reason to share. Did this company not have an interview/screening process in the beginning before it hired anyone?! They should've fired her right then and there if you ask me! But then again, I'm a little sad to see her gone. She was a mysterious, strangely fascinating creature. Like a car pile-up wreck, everyday another car or semi would smash into the already huge pile of debris and disbelief. Another thing bizarre, I guess she would sometimes stay in the office past midnight (the cleaning lady told my cube mate)... don't ask me why or what she did. I don't know and I don't care to. Hmm. So, how about that?!

Oh, and let me also mention that this is the woman who spends most of her days on the telephone, taking personal calls. These are usually from her 53-year-old boyfriend who is a recovering alcoholic that drinks a 1/5th of vodka a day. I'm not judging. I'm just sayin'. They are also very loud, as if she wants everyone in the office to hear her... and she sounds like my step grandmother, which I didn't enjoy. Oh wow! I just remembered, one day her phone rang and it was a personal call from her boyfriend Chuck, or something, I was rushing to get my earphones in and before I slipped them in, I heard her mention something about wet dreams being romantic. I threw up in my mouth a little. This woman!

Spelling is only a small part of life.

But I still find it annoying when people spell common words completely wrong. Not even close. Or, when they leave out contractions... hey, I heard your going to the store. NO! That's wrong! Don't be stupid! Sound it out in your head!

Guitar classes are over. The last two songs we learned

--LIKE A ROCK (we did not learn but I am listening to Seeger and his Silver Bullet Band) will forever be ruined for me. Never again will I be able to enjoy it, because I will only think of Chevy being hustlers with their schemes of selling trucks to cowboys with big hats and tall boots who like to spin their tires in the dirt and mud and haul heavy things. Just sayin', just so you know.--

were "Rocket Man" [Elton John] and "Old Man" [Neil Young] and I really love playing the latter. Here's how it goes, in case you don't know. Amazing, Neil Young. I love you.

Old man look at my life, I'm a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life, I'm a lot like you were.

Old man look at my life, twenty four and there's so much more,
Live alone in a paradise that makes me think of two.
Love lost, such a cost, give me things that don't get lost.
Like a coin that won't get tossed, rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you.
I need someone to love me the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true.

Lullabies, look in your eyes, run around the same old town.
Doesn't mean that much to me to mean that much to you.
I've been first and last look at how the time goes past.
But I'm all alone at last, rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you.
I need someone to love me the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true.

Old man look at my life, I'm a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life, I'm a lot like you were.
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And it's really fun to play, I like sliding between D and Fmaj7. And the chorus, F to Am, to some crazy one stringed E. Beautiful. Beautiful! Also, I have "Passenger Seat" by Wilco, but I can't seem to get the beat down. I need to practice my strumming.

I love coffee. Sometimes. Most of the time. I like that after a long weekend, my friend Ash said she was going to "Coffee her way through Monday." She's a funny girl. And it's true. That's what you do when you work at an office. You drink obscene amounts of coffee, and get tired of sitting, and being on computers. The coffee that you feel like you need to chew is the best, but it's liquid so you don't really need to chew it, but it's so strong you chomp. Sometimes I do that with wine.

I'm thinking about doing another blog post today, because there's no work in my queue... AHHH! But I want to talk about my Friday at the Art Institute and I would have to recall events/thoughts by looking at my notebook, and that's blatantly saying to everyone, "Hey! Look at me, I'm not working..." (even though I literally have nothing to do -sigh! I sigh a lot at work, I'm so exasperated here!) sooo, I don't think it'd be very professional of me, and I might put it off until tomorrow when no one is in the office with me at 8am.

Does anyone else get reminded of Bruce Springsteen when they listen to The Hold Steady's lead singer? It's not just me, is it? A little bit? Maybe? Not me, the fact that the guy sounds like the Boss. Here's some summer music for you, courtesy the kind folks at NPR. Marvelous.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91707889&ps=bb1

I think drinking on top of water towers would be very dangerous, and considering my silly fear of heights I would not be partaking in the festivities.

Peace.

My Heart's Just Not in it Today

I'm about to cut my right arm off!!! 8 down, 6 to go..... MERH!!

WOOT! We have some fresh hands in the office and I had to teach them the ways of profile writing. I trained two gals, and they each wrote a profile to feel it out, which went on my quota, but then my boss said not to worry about quota today since I was helping. Awlright!!

Feeling much better, and 1/2 hour to go. I should probably work now. The below is stuff I wrote right before the MERH, Arm cutting blurb - it needed an intro.

God! Talk about wunderkinds making you feel inadequate. Simon Rich is pretty funny. Until just now I was convinced he was a graying 47-year-old gay man, kind of like David Sedaris. It makes me sad that he isn't, and that he's living my dream. Ohhhh.

http://www.boston.com/news/globe/magazine/articles/2007/04/01/scared_silly/


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Also, I just wanted to mention that I did watch Game 6 last night, and I did root for the Celtics, as they were the home team AND the underdogs of the season! Thank goodness for that. Besides, the Lakers suck without Kobe, and 16 is very strange looking.

Note, when KG (yes, I have nicknames for them now, as I'm claiming Celtics to be my new favorite, and only, team to support) was taking some point shots for the fouls like 5-2 minutes left in the first half, y'know at this point Celtics were on their streak. Anyway, he was all excited about them winning, and I said in my head, "Hey KG, you got more than half'a this game left. Keep ya head in it." And it was like he heard me because the smile vanished and the concentration washed over his face like the steady stream of sweat pouring down it. Anyway, he held his composure up until the last 5 minutes, when the Championship was a sure deal and then he acted like a madman. Michelle, you look good. Here's a funny article giving a play by play of the foaming, mumbling mess that became KG when the confetti fell down:

http://www.slate.com/id/2193863/

Stream O' Consciousness

SO I was reading "No one belongs here more than you." this morning, on the bus. No one wanted to sit next to me, on my right side, because I brought my guitar along - tonight is the last class, we play together for an hour and then we have a concert, which is actually just an all classes recital, a cheap ruse for not giving me my money's worth of lessons, if you ask me. By the way, next round of group lessons I sign up for I am totally going to go the 1040 tax route by proving to them I am legitimately poor and need the $150 discount rate, so I only have to pay $7 for all eight weeks of classes. Neato. - but I didn't mind because they probably would've cramped my style.

Right. Enough jibba jabba. I got off the bus, slung on my guitar, crossed the street against the light (no cars), ran up the stairs (in preparation for Sears Tower), wiped the sweat off my brow, walked down Michigan, and up Lake to work. I was thinking about things while I was walking. Something I normally do. As Descartes said, I think, therefore I am. And so do, and so am I.

I was thinking about how maybe I'd like to work for Oprah after this job ends. I was thinking why Oprah would want to hire me. Why wouldn't she?! I'm semi-fabulous, and occasionally a hard worker. I think she should give me a job. My resume is becoming something spectacular. For example, I'm pretty stoked about this sock puppet theater class at 826 (it's full, plus 3 extra chillin's) and I wasn't even thinking about it in terms of how I can put it on my resume, but a friend brought it up the other day and I thought, "Hey! Yeah! That's pretty cool!" (because I created it, planned it, and taught it - this last part will include me bossin' my assistants around!!) And I play guitar, I'm not sure what that adds to a company, other than the fact that I'm awesome and sometimes I gnaw on my left hand fingertips. Additionally I, ummm... run, and raise money while running. Okay, I haven't started raising actual monies, but I'm signed up to do so. Ahhh! I have so many things to do, and I'm so sleepy right now.

We started out this month only having to write 12 profiles a day, then last week they upped it to 13, and now it's 14, and soon I fear that will increase to 15!! I mean, I can do it, no problem. The only thing is after I reach quota, I start working on my overtime profiles - we get paid time and a half for every extra 20 we do... did I already explain this? We're behind right now, so that's why the offer was extended past weekends. - and the more they add to quota, the less I can do my work from home at the office!

Anyway, Oprah got me thinking about things, and now that I'm trapped in this cube, I'm not really feeling like writing all the things I thought I wanted to. I worked really hard to pump out 5 profiles in 2 hours, 2 of which I didn't even have the slightest clue of what they did, but I built the shit out of them, and they were quality! I think one was for a grafitti artist, they claimed they could put custom designs on anything from apparel to jewerly to the interiors of homes and cars... ummm, okay? Yeah. This is the shit I deal with on a day to day basis, at least it wasn't a contractor or a dentist, or a criminal lawyer. I like to pretend I'm the business owner while I write, I feel this prepares and trains me as I develop my playwriting skills.

I walk really fast, and I'm pretty good about weaving through crowds.

I sometimes, and by this I mean all the time, wish that I could literally run into P. Charles Right when I'm out running on the city streets, around the corners, taking 'em sharp. And we would recover, and both of us would say, "Oh my! I'm terribly, terribly sorry!" Catch our breaths as we fall in love. "Are you alright?" "Yes. Are you?" "I am now." And running and love would ensue. He, too, would be training for a sub-4 hour marathon time and we would train, train, train together and laugh and explore the world and I wouldn't ever feel awkward or ugly around him. I blame these thoughts on the movies for serving up their delusions of grandeur and other things that would never happen to everyday, normal, upstanding citizen folks.

Who knows where this is going? I think I'm becoming delusional from hunger. I only ate a banana for breakfast because I was running late, and my lunch is sad and simple, as well. I really need to go grocery shopping, I just don't know when I'll have the time. Tonight guitar, run, ah - then grocery!, then dinner, then bed. How boring, yawn! Yawn! I was supposed to go out for drinks with a couple of pals from the pub, but I couldn't drag my lazy bones outta the sack to run this morning at 5 - just couldn't do it, too happy snooze-a-roo'in'.

I've done a lot of cat stretches in my chair today. My shoulders pop. Well, crack would be the more appropriate word. Maybe it's all my tendons and muscles moving against my skeleton. I don't know. I don't know anatomy that well.

Okay, back to work. Work, work, work, work. Something is whistling. A machine, not a person. Oh! Maybe it's the robot who's going to replace me.

Maybe, if you're lucky, and I'm productive today, and become inspired in the afternoon, I'll write what I was thinking about writing when I was walking in the morning sunshine.