Thursday, April 27, 2006

Dumbass Directors

I fucking hate people that think you live and die by them. If they need something, they automatically assume that you’d love to do it. And not just that, you’d love to do it right this fucking second!

Why do people think this? Is it because their parents loved them that much? It is a desperate call for attention that their subconscious is directing them to do? Do they simply need catering/pandering all day every day? Who knows? All I know is that these people are fucking annoying and should be condemned to death by a thousand bee stings.

Is it really necessary that I Xerox these 3 pages for you right now? Especially since I’m literally right next to the copy room and in the time it took you to ask this of me, you could have made 10 copies? Why do you insist on wasting my time? Is that a required aspect of your job?

DUTIES - As Director of [Any Fucking Department], you will develop, plan, implement, interpret and direct programs in accordance with necessary policies, guidelines and legal constraints, and to advise/assist management in the administration of these programs/policies. Proper levels of annoyance are a must, especially in roping new hires into boring, mind-numbing work. This includes, but is not limited to: having said employee call thousands of people for no good reason, copying documents that would take you 2 seconds to do yourself, and explain basic computer processes in idiotically simple language. In this position you will work closely with all levels of the organization providing the necessary balance between company and employee advocate.

In case you’re wondering, it is I that suffers under such rule. Just now, I’ve been asked to copy a 3 page document. My desk is literally 10 feet away from the copy machine. Yet one of the directors has stopped here, waited for me to get off the phone, and then proceeded to walk me through the process of copying 3 pages. In all this time, she could have made the copies herself and gotten back to her own damned desk.

Yesterday, she had me take dictation on a three paragraph letter. While this doesn’t sound so bad, she was perhaps the slowest dictator in the history of dictation. For the most part, people have a general idea of what to say when giving dictation. This was not the case. A mere 500 words stretched out into two hours of work. Two hours! A five year old can think of shit faster than that. And afterwards, she had the nerve to ask me to speed up the current project I’m working on. I’d be done a lot faster if you would stop asking me to do shit that barely takes up your own time. Maybe if you cleaned off your desk, you could find your own damned keyboard and type your own fucking letter once in a while.

Do I sound bitter? I hope so, since that’s what I’m trying to convey here.

Friday, April 21, 2006

I work in DC, not Antarctica

Why must offices be super cold all the time? Right now, it’s a pleasant 65ºF outside. Despite this, the air-conditioner is on full blast. Papers on my desk are swaying from the wind coming from the ceiling vents. Swaying! There is no need for indoor wind! I am wearing four layers of clothing and fingerless gloves as I type this. Is this really necessary?! I don’t think so. Everyone is dressed for winter while inside and must shed their layers when venturing outdoors. There is no need for sweaters and gloves in late April, unless you work in one of these retarded office buildings.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

The Devil Never Spell-Checks

Case in point:
These dolls are frightening. Where are their noses? Are they able to smell the stench of whores that radiates off of them? Why are their heads so large and necks so skinny? Soon, little girls will want to know what kind of crunches you need to do for that sort of neck definition. Why are their lips so large? I feel as though they are eternally on their way back from a blow job and are on the way to another one. As for being focused on “fashion,” I don’t know anyone who wants to dress like a genie; and I’m sure that any real genies out there in the world want new clothes. And if the genies had any say, I don’t think they’d dress like whores.

Yet, these dolls seem to be quite popular? WHY?! I believe it is the substitution of the “S” in brats for a “Z.” Kids love that purposeful misspelling. It calls to them like ice cream and candy. If that wasn’t enough, the logo has a halo over it. Now the children are being tricked into thinking that dressing like the Bratz will keep them innocent despite looking like a prostitute. It is from the logo that these dolls have gathered power. The rest of us (who know how to spell) must take the lead and show children that bad spelling is for bad people. It’s one thing to accidentally make an error, it’s quite another to have kids thinking that the “Z” is a cooler version of the “S.”

Clearly, these dolls are agents of Satan. If the overt misspellings and whorishness weren’t enough, just look at the name: Bratz. Why would you want children to model themselves after brats? It just doesn’t make sense. Adults hate brats. Personally, I think they all need a good smack followed by, “Shut up! Stop crying!” Since we hate brats so much, why are we providing toys which encourage such behavior? It’s because we’re not doing it, demons are. Clearly the traditional evils of the world are no longer enough.

Fight the evil. Expel the Demons. Use spell-check.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

It Hurts So Good

Once again, I have applied too much Tabasco Sauce to my potato wedges. It hurts to eat them, but I can’t stop. Why? Why can’t I stop inflicting this pain upon myself? Because it hurts so good. That’s why.

When I was younger, I never understood why people seemed to enjoy such things. Why would you want to essentially burn off all of your taste buds, rendering your tongue useless until they regenerate? (At least in terms of food, but that’s another story.) Why do people seem to be addicted to getting tattoos or piercings? Why do people pay for someone to essentially beat the shit out of them? Because it hurts so good.

While it’s quite a jump from excessive Tabasco sauce to hiring a dominatrix, I can relate.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

One Day I'll Grow Up

So a bunch of went out to dinner for a birthday at Mai Thai in Alexandria. The food was good, the company was good, all in all: a good night. So why am I writing about this boring shit? Because I now realize that I have the maturity of a 3 year old. How did I reach this conclusion, you ask? This is how:

There is an item on the menu called "Ka Pow," a choice of beef, chicken port, or combination seafood sauteed with ground fresh pepper, garlic, and Thai basil leaves. It was actually quite delicious. But the main reason that I ordered is was so that I could say "Ka Pow" like a Batman sound effect. (WHAM! SOCK! KA POW!) I could not stop snickering at the name. I said it as often as I could and with as much cheesiness as I could muster in public:

TO THE WAITER: Can I have the KA POW with beef?
TO MY FRIENDS: This KA POW is pretty good!

All in all, I am 3 years old. One day I'll grow up and act my age, just not anytime soon, and not as long as there are restaurants serving dishes with great names.


Monday, April 03, 2006

Smoke Free America

Note the cigarette burn right on the heart.

I've never really understood the point of banning smoking in public spaces. All it serves to do is marginalize a large portion of the population. And when it comes to bars, it's really just bad business. When it comes down to it, a bar is a private business, so the owners should be the ones who make the choice between smoke-free/smoker-friendly. I'm sure there are a good number of owners who would willingly designate their businesses to be smoke free; and I'm also sure that there are a good number who could not care less. Let the owners make the decision, not the government. As a smoker, I would probably end up in some smoke-free places given my circle of friends, and I wouldn't smoke in these places. However, I would also end up in places where it's perfectly fine to light up, and I would do so. Immediately. It's not really a bar without that familiar haze of smoke.