Wednesday, August 29, 2007

SRT# 53

If only Exxon would return my calls, we could make a fortune.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Gotta Love FIOS

I just got the new M.I.A. album in less than three minutes. So awesome.

ADDENDUM This album is so awesome. Perhaps even more awesome than the speed at which I acquired it.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

SRT #52

I hate WordPerfect. It is a demon. A scar on the face of computer software. It needs to die. WordPerfect is the standard word processing program at work. It seems fine. Just a regular program. This ambivalence only lasts as long as you do not have more than five pages to write. For some reason, it likes to start formatting everything incorrectly, inserting random hard returns in between lines, and randomly removing them from where they need to be. It turns neatly ordered documents into raging pustules of disorganization the second you hit the print button. And the longer the document, the more things it will alter. This is a logical conclusion, however, the difference is in the ability to see these things before printing. In a short document, it will do something fairly obvious, like add a header to every page. This does not happen with the 60+ pager. It will add that random header to pages 31 and 56, whilst removing it from where it needs to be on pages 35-38. It will create new page breaks where none need be. It will decide that you want every other reference to be in Times New Roman, not Arial, as the rest of the document is. It will ruin your day.

Fuck wordperfect.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Everybody Poos

Yesterday, when I went to the bathroom to pee in the late morning, there was a woman at the sink finishing up washing her hands, so I figured that once I got into the stall and ready to go, she'd be gone. Not so. Instead, she proceeded to rummage through her purse while humming/talking to herself. I understand the need to mess around with your shit before you leave the bathroom, but there is a powder room(?) before the actual bathroom that is made for that purpose. Why could she have not used that? I was distressed, but despite that, I was able to pee. She left before I exited the stall.

Fast forward to 4:30. I had to poo. It wasn't a particularly pressing need, but I walk about two miles after work, and I'd rather not have to haul around a full load with me. The same woman was at the sinks of the bathroom. She seems to be further along in whatever it she does, so I enter the stall. She seems to be heavily involved in searching for something in the purse, accompanied by humming/talking at a crescendo. I grow concerned. This is not a mere urine situation; there is poo involved. I take my time getting situated in the stall. I wait. I have to pee anyways, so I let that go. I wait. She is still rummaging/humming/talking. I wait. I wait. I cannot perform with an audience, so I exit the stall and proceed to wash my hands. Slowly. Very Slowly. This woman then proceeds to start wiping down the entire sink/counter area that she has been occupying. Of what, I do not know. I saw nothing to wipe up, but who knows. Finally, she leaves. At that point, I was in the midst of drying my hands at the slowest possible rate I could muster. Once I hear the second set of doors close, I get back into the stall and handle my business.

Things I am strangely curious about:
1. What was she looking for in her purse at multiple points in the day? I can only assume it was the same item, but if she had trouble finding it in the morning, why the continued loss in the afternoon?
2. Why did she have to wipe down the counter? I saw no spillage of anything. Additionally, it was not simply the immediate area around the sink she was occupying. She definitely infringed on areas belonging to the adjacent sinks. (I was two sinks away.)
3. For someone with such lingering public bathroom behavior, why have I never seen her before? Judging from her color-blind-pajamaesque ensemble, she definitely doesn't work for the super-businessy things that we share the floor with, so I can only assume she is with the labor union that is also on this floor.*

Do these laborers/wives of/associates of laborers not understand protocol?** It is in and out in the minimum time needed to achieve sanitary/satisfactory conditions. No lingering is necessary. Needless to say, it was a very stressful poo. Very unsatisfactory. :(

* Which, curiously, has actually had it's lights on for the last few days. After a year in this building, I have only seen the lights on maybe four times.
** I realize my using the term "laborer" seems elitist, but that's only because I don't want to give away where I work. I love those who labor. They are awesome.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

SRT #50

My knee hurts. It has been known to ache from time to time, usually when there is a sudden shift in the weather a la old person, but not like this. It is as though a tiny knife stabs the joint with every step, so I look like a fool limping around with a pained expression in boat shoes. It wouldn't be so bad if it was a consistent pain. I can deal with such things. The problem is that the tiny knife seems to randomly turn into a Glaive of Eternal Sharpness every once in a while, resulting in what I assume is a shocked expression of pain on my face along with a sharp intake of breathe. I do not exclaim in pain, I simply inhale much more forcefully. Picture this in your head: asian thing, highwaters, boat shoes, pronounced limp, random shocked facial expressions coupled with strange breathing patterns. What the fuck kind of image is that? It is a fucked up one.

I want to rip my leg out.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

SRT #49

Jesus clearly has a hard time returning messages. I am home sick. I cannot speak. I cannot breathe. And I have deadlines. So despite my illness, I must pour through various irritation studies. Here's a tip for the day: If your hair dye gives you a giant scalp rash, stop using it.

Monday, August 06, 2007

Dear Jesus,

I have so much shit to do, why must you inflict illness upon me? I ask only for three weeks of health. That is so little. Why must you deny me? If you cannot manage three weeks, I will be OK with one. I just need to do this work and then I can collapse into a heap of tissues and phlegm. If that is still too much to ask, I will settle for four business days. Please. It's all I need.


P.S. If, for some reason, you are feeling especially generous, perhaps you could also find me those Paul Smith shoes at an under $300 price. You know which ones. I eagerly await your response.