What You Are Laughing At

Christmas Gift Idea #1
I missed another great opportunity to cash in on self-aggrandizement backfiring! Now I can re-enact it anytime... not as fun, but I may take it. It takes two, baby.

A Day You Needn't Work Through
Let's address the fact that it's as perfect a March day as we're ever going to get in Washington, and we're all stuck in front of computers. I bet the company I work for could do without me today. I've been here most every day this year, and our stock is STILL getting its loss-margin handed to it by the Little Mermaid Coffee Company.
If my efforts aren't rocketing this company to any better than 1/3rd the stock price (13.50:37.50) of a retail outfit whose accessories include stuffed animals and Cranberry-Oatmeal-Potpourri Dreamcakes, then I think it's better that I take the day to re-assess my direction.
And by "re-assess" I mean go for coffee and write some jokes on the sad state of the Cellular Communications industry in this country. Fastest wireless data network? BAH to the text messaging! I drop calls in the same building the billing system runs from. Scone me.

Effective Management By Paranoia
The company I work for (I won't say it's "my company" as I sold my stock long ago and thus have no vested interest in its non-future) is in the mode of being purchased by another major player in the industry.
Today I sent a note to a friend of mine at the purchasing company, completely unrelated to work, much like the second half of my yesterday. The note was about one of her favorite performers, Prince, putting on a show at the end of this month and broadcasting it all over the nation to movie theaters.
I received an immediate response to my note! It read:
*** Due to the pending (Dipass Company Name Deleted) acquisition, your email message has been quarantined for review by the Legal Department of (Much Better-Run Company Name Deleted) Wireless . No action on your part is necessary. The data is (another CYA move, name deleted) and the action is Quarantined based on sender domain. ***
I feel like the substitute teacher caught me passing a note and wants me to come to the head of the class and read it aloud, and I'm not real cool widdit. This is usually where I do just that, then spend the next 3 days at home writing the 1500-word essay "I Will Respect The Substitute Teacher By Not Hanging a B.A. and Then 'Taking The Class Picture' When My Teacher Is Gone." In my mind the legal departments will look at the note and pass it on. In reality, they're staking out my place right now, tapping my phones, and rappelling through my windows, hoping to stop me before I make it as far as the Lake Forest Park Barstucks. Hey… You never saw me here.

GOOD NIGHT BALLARD! GOOD NIGHT FOREVER!
I had the good fortune of spending a few hours with my friends Crash Helmet and JohnnySuperstar last night, doing some comedy at an open mic in Ballard. Ballard is like San Francisco minus the name-brand designer shops, but all the passive-pretense as to their own hipness. Comedy was interspersed throughout the roster, with Johnny going first, then a poet and a musical act, then Crash, then a couple other gut-wounded-by-Love-and-Too-Much-Indie-Emo/Ani DiFranco-Influenced musical acts, then the Geoffmaster General here.
As the night kicks off we're told that a randomly-selected number of audience members will judge each performance, and the "winner" gets to "open" for some crappy two-fruit band ("Blowdog and Sneezy" or whatthefuggever) next Wednesday at the Blue Moon tavern. The Blue Moon, by the way, is not a gig you take when things are going well.
These spoils to the victor, First Prize, which apparently I win on sheer talent and the ability to captivate a quickly-drunkening (it's close enough to a word, shuddit) crowd of non-sexuality-decisive Ballardians. I don't care if someone's gay, straight, or Andy Dick, be who you are, but don't act like it's a fad and fashionable. Bad sideburns are all the rage on Ballard Ave. Say it with me… ''AND THAT'S JUST THE WOMEN!''
So yeah, I win the dumb thing and figure that I'm supposed to open the show for no money and no freebies at the Blue Moon. Last Place got an envelope filled with the overwhelming relief that they don't feel a weird obligation to open for Blowhole and Chewy at a bar that has a Lost and Found for livers and hope. Shucks, Blowgun and Droopy, looks like I can't make it. I have a date with Self-Esteem, and she's a fickle minx.

Extra Foam
I kid you not, I think I found my next job while checka-checkin' out the Bean Machine's website. The job is what I'm doing now, sans executive BS and Whistling Short People. Yes, I sit next to one of the Seven Dwarves. He was removed from the original story, but "Distracty" would have gotten a Soap-Sock Code Red by the Second Act anyway. Laugh and the world laughs with you. Whistle and you're a dick.

Pegasus tonight. Be there…
Geofferson