Whoopadoop Ramanaploop

My current managerial umbrella is open, indoors. You know what that means!
Six more weeks of answering dumb questions.

It is because of their lack of vision that I almost quit about 10 minutes ago. Truly, I envisioned myself standing up, running a program to wipe-clean my computer and network shares, and going to the desks of each person I cannot stand and telling them exactly what I thought of them, their clothes, their laughs, their hair, and why the are a-pipes for bringing a 2-liter of Dr. Pepper and SunChips to a potluck.
It gave me a fantastic erection.

But I can't walk just yet. I am reminded of the funniest Red Meat cartoon for my situation:
Titled, The Buckling Beams Of Your Hopes And Dreams, it takes on great significance today. I cannot imagine working for anybody for 40-ish hours a week to make THEM look good. I'm ready to make a move, emotionally, but financially I'm shackled to the oar of the SS WindBreaker for a while. Row, Row, Row... your... bo(siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh)
Oh yeah, and here's another Red Meat 'toon that sounds like a great idea:
Geoff Lott's Exit Strategy

Instead of having one manager, I am reporting directly to one in California, indirectly to four in Washington, and round-aboutly to 15 across the nation. A secret of management is that the more you know about corporate buzz-words and PowerPoint, the less actual work you have to do. You end up with a little office and a door and a little jaunty walk like I get after a good dump. Because that's what Managers do: Crap.

Managers have a way to escape from my prying questions; that's why I envy the door. It's little more than having your own cell in prison. But the door, it's a good status symbol if you're into meaningless status symbols. That, and it blocks annoying laughter, microwaved BBQ-cod, and I could finally fart in peace. But then again, I don't fart at work for relief, I fart at work for revenge. Thank you broccoli and Lo-Carb Monster. But I would not rip in an elevator, because that should be a capital offense.

I dump you not, there's a misManager at the Executive Admin's desk next to mine requesting to be moved to an office with a window. There's the bigger toilet in the cell I mentioned earlier.

I know they are "busy" with meetings. These are meetings set up by other Managers. The organizer of the meeting probably just read some new book on a Management technique that includes using phrases analogous to getting work stalled, held-up, debated, and then denied. "Synergy" is another word for kissing ass and nodding along. "Mission-critical" means the manager actually had an original thought, and gawrsh-durn'it, that new vending machine is going to be installed, even if it is not needed, budgeted, or filled with broccoli and Lo-Carb Monster.

I'm not meant to be here. I don't mean "here" is in this planet, I mean this place of employment. I extract 5000-item spreadsheets out of an archaic system to them manipulate, format, sort, and pivot the data in them so I can tell managers "Hey, this one guy you manage is working less than Larry King's last wife. Drop the conference call, open your door, and get in the game."

In case you're wondering, YES, I will be filming my last day. And NO, this time there will NOT be news coverage. I learned my lesson: Sell Advertising, as it helps pay for bail.

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Masturblogtion

I'm happy that more people are using blogs these days. It saves paper. And paper, as we've been told for nearly a decade now, is what trees are made out of. Therefore, not using paper means that trees are not being cut down for diaries that go tucked away, cradling ideas and dreams, funny drawings and fantasies, Polaroids that shouldn't see the light of an FBI Mag-Lite when the Feds come-a knockin' because, brother, that "woman" you met in the chat room wasn't a "woman"... she was a panda.
And now, you're a Panda-pounder, and they have enough trouble getting them to mate with each other, because you're swooping in with your DSL and your Queer Eye sensibilities and delivering not bamboo but Annie's Organic Burritos, the staple of the panda with cash. Look where that got you. Reading my blog, wondering to yourself "This guy either has been reading between the lines, or 30 minutes ago his glycogen levels dipped and he could use a gram of carbohydrates or 20."

"Supposably" is not a word. It was noted as such on an episode of "Friends" back in 1996 or so, when the one in the closet told the mook that the mook's use of "Supposably" was wrong, since it's not a word. It's Suppos-edly or Oppos-able, meaning "Pretended, alleged, or expected" or "to be in opposition to," respectively. I guess Supposably could mean "Expected to Opposed," but we already have a word for that. It's called "Me At Work With Good Ideas."

In the event you hear on the news tonight of an Indian-burn assault in Bothell, perpetrated on a woman in the early afternoon, you can be damn sure that CackleSnatch Sandie has uttered the phrase "Get 'er (sorry, I almost threw up, can't finish it)" and I have reacted appropriately.

If you've never used the =VLOOKUP function in Excel, you don't know what you're missing. Basically, anytime you have a list of data that you want to associate with another type of data, say "State - TimeZone," then you can use the VLOOKUP to quickly make the association for you. The best part is that you get to make the reference sheet by hand, especially if you use Remedy Helpdesk, work for a cheap-ass company, and are really rather drunk at your desk riiiiiiiight... NOW.

I'm headlining at Laughs in Bellevue next weekend. Their website is chips-up right now, but the details are as follows:
Show is at The Ramada Inn on 8th Ave NE and 112th in Bellevue, on the corner. Walk into the lobby, and the club entrance is to the right of the stairs. If you see old people eating Country Fried Steak, you've gone too far.
Friday and Saturday, 9pm, $10 at the door, $5 if you're on my guest list, which means you gotta e-mail me HERE and I'll add you to it.

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I'll Give You $5

Today is the 2nd day in a row that I got up and worked out in the morning. I feel really up and at-it this morning. I've also refocused my eating towards some higher-protein, lower-fat, plenty of veggies...
Chimp attack... two headed baby... GAAAAA
This is bullshit. Here's the deal.

NoMakeup Sandie is over 100 feet from my desk right now, hanging half-way into an office. This "Unofficial Office GleeClub Member" is laughing so loud that a guy BEHIND ME just shut his door, and he's at least 117 feet from the offense. A Sandie-dampening door is the only reason I envy management here.
My dilemma is that I know people love to laugh, it feels good. They say laughter is the best medicine. She's over-medicated, she's an addict. We need to have an intervention. I need some help, people.
I can't find it in myself to go up to her and say "Heeeeeey kiddo! How's it going? Sounds like you are having a really, uh... FUNNY day today, yeah? Alrighty, great. As a favor to someone you rarely talk to but can hear every word you say, I'm hoping, oh gosh... I hope this gets really uncomfortable for you, but could you force-jam your head ass-wise until you can see yourself, like in 'Being John Malkovich?' That would really be GREAT! No, no... I'm not here to talk about the John Markovich movie, as you call it. I'm here to try and hold on to my sanity. MMkay? Repeat after me... SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Great then. Wait... why are you laughing? You laugh even when you cry? This has to be Hell, or at the very least, Tumwater."

Here's another problem. She KNOWS she's loud. She acknowledges it, almost prides herself on it. Kind of how Tony Moser prides himself after flopping a set "on purpose." Granted, her resumé states that she was raised in an Abrams tank by braying donkies, but we are nearing a time where we can finally live on the moon or under water with our aquatic mammal brethren, and she's going to be our leader because her laugh can be heard a quarter mile away.

If you have a tactful way of telling her that while her "Up Up UP!" attitude is appreciated while her volume is f*cking-A NOT, send me an e-mail HERE and I'll do what I can to balance myself out. Take care now. I'll be in the file drawer until noon.

Oh gawd, she's got bronchitis now?
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Mazeltov!

Hey there BeanieWeenie!
I have a lot going on right now, mentally and emotionally, and one thing I'm trying to do is let go of negativity in my life. Shun it, ignore it, set fire to it. When that fails I'll just turn a mirror to it and hope Negativity starts a fight with itself or flies at its reflection for a while. Negativity is all around our lives in different forms, and unlike somebody getting torqued at a Jimmy Buffet concert, second-hand neuroses just don't pop the same high they once did.

The crappy thing about me right now is that I have seen what other people are doing well, yet sliding on my responsibilities to myself. It's time for me to stop the chatter and move forward on what I want to do. Reality tells me to shut off my brain and go inward. What do I need to do more of, in order to accomplish my daily/weekly goals? That's what I'm assessing right now. What do I really WANT? What can I dedicate myself to mastering within my parameters of "mastershippage?"

While shunning negativity has helped me see what I don't like about People (that's capitalized so nobody starts getting and itchy Comment finger or moving metaphors around on their "RISK-The Blog War Edition" board) as far as Personalities go. I'm wearing glass-colored glasses, but the glass changes color depending on the amount of incoming Goodness. My brain collects positive growth signals like some guys collect Star Wars Figures: Sometimes I appreciate them, but overall I just like seeing a person enjoy what they're doing. Not growing is the equivalent of dying. Better, or worse.

So while I step back and assess what my shortcomings have been, I need to be really honest with myself. I've made some good changes, I have things I want to and will work on, and for the most part, I really hope that stain comes out of the carpet. If I can get THAT up, there's no telling what I'll be able to accomplish. I'm going within for a while, and sharing when I need to. In the meantime, I really hope you get some good things moving for yourself, or at the very least, stop stepping in other people's spotlight long enough to applaud for them. Your turn's right around the corner. Especially if you can get grass stains out of a blood stain off a chocolate/cabernet splotch-like stain.

Don't ask, just feel bad for not accepting the evite.
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