This Is What It's Come To
I had planned vacation days for today and tomorrow. No work. Play. I'm at work today for a couple of reasons. The main reason is that I have 4 managers. None of them talk directly to me until they F up and need to tell me to fix something. The good thing is that whatever they think is broken probably ISN'T, because I don't do enough work to break anything anyway.
I have a project in front of me that I was handed on the 16th of April. It was going to be due for presentation on 5/13 to a group of people who feel that what they do for this three-legged dog of a company actually amounts to a hill of disposable cell-phone batteries. It doesn't, by the way. So in this report I'm supposed to gather and manipulate the data for the month of March on the efficiency of a few processes we run here at Turkish Prison Cellular, as per our conversation on the 16th of April.
Yesterday one of my 4 managers, whom I shall refer to as Pigtit, because he's bulbous and pinkish in hue... (I just threw up a little)... stops by my desk after a meeting with another Director-level mopey waste of organs. He tells me that we'll need the numbers for April, but that will be odd because the end of the month isn't until Friday. No schidt? aaaand NO SCHIDT! So he's changed the criteria for a deliverable one week before it's due. It's important that I point out to you, dear reader, that I pointed out to him, Pigtit, that I had written down in my notes from the 4/16 meeting that our main priority was March metrics. His comeback?
"Well yeah, but that's because it wasn't the end of April yet."
Does this make sense to you? The words make sense, but the idea, the gyst, the REASON FOR OPENING THE PIGTIT PIEHOLE makes no damn sense whatsoever. Luckily I'm ahead of schedule for the actual work I need to do on this report, because...
later on I get a Pigtit-mail that is a reply for clarification on a few issues so that I knew what I was doing from here on out and made myself look good. It's the corporate equivalent of reverse psychology: This is what you told me you wanted. Are you wrong? Turns out... he was! STOP THE MUSIC, this shouldn't be a surprise to any of us at this point. Other than finding the M&Ms in trail mix, this guy's ability to sift through information is suspect at best. He tells me that the big report due on the 13th isn't due on the 13th anymore. Yeah, that's due on the 6th. They moved the date up a week.
Nowhere in here have I used the words "apology" or "sorry." See, when I goof up and it affects someone else, I apologize and I mean it, because my goof messed with someone else's day or life or happiness, and I am sorry for doing that. Pigtit's head-in-the-hamhock maneuver not only could have REALLY f*cked himself over, but it almost put me in a position to look really bad and maybe get fired. Instead I'm in the office on a gorgeous day working over some files for schidt that means NOTHING to the future of this planet, mankind, or making out with M, who's leavin' on a jet plane in a few days. I don't want to be here. There's really no cosmic reason to be here. It's only a job, not THE job, it's just money. It helps. I shut out the pain and find the hilarity of it all. And THAT my friends is WORK.
I'm checking the company handbook to see if it's true that you can get fired for hitting a co-worker. Pussies.
Take Me Home
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Total Friggin' A-Hole
Yeah… go ahead. Whistle. Whistle that nameless, shapeless tune. Formless tweets into the air, go for it assneck, you go blow all you can.
Louder.
I SAID LOUDER YOU DICK!
I want to dance to your jaunty tunes, mixing two-step with high kicks and chokeholds! You are a dick, dude. You can’t stop making noise, can you?
Cough… cough cough, sniff… sniff sniff sniff, cough cough, ahem… ahem./..It’s amazing that the Administrative Staff hasn’t blacklisted you. Next time you try and order a 6-foot sub for your “Team Building” day, you’re gonna end up with a 6-foot tub.
You’re a dipschidt. Stop speaking in metaphors. When your vendor leaves out an upgrade package, say “There’s something out of line here” and fix the problem. Don’t say “They sold us a Happy Meal but forgot the toy,” and then don’t say “We got the pizza with no cheese, ya know?” and then don’t say “It’s like we bought a car with no CD player, and all we gots are CDs.”
Got it, you dropped the ball and didn’t ask a question. Cool.
I hope you’re reading this so I can remain passively perturbed at your workplace existence without actually confronting you on what a truly annoying human being you are.
Take Me Home
Yeah… go ahead. Whistle. Whistle that nameless, shapeless tune. Formless tweets into the air, go for it assneck, you go blow all you can.
Louder.
I SAID LOUDER YOU DICK!
I want to dance to your jaunty tunes, mixing two-step with high kicks and chokeholds! You are a dick, dude. You can’t stop making noise, can you?
Cough… cough cough, sniff… sniff sniff sniff, cough cough, ahem… ahem./..It’s amazing that the Administrative Staff hasn’t blacklisted you. Next time you try and order a 6-foot sub for your “Team Building” day, you’re gonna end up with a 6-foot tub.
You’re a dipschidt. Stop speaking in metaphors. When your vendor leaves out an upgrade package, say “There’s something out of line here” and fix the problem. Don’t say “They sold us a Happy Meal but forgot the toy,” and then don’t say “We got the pizza with no cheese, ya know?” and then don’t say “It’s like we bought a car with no CD player, and all we gots are CDs.”
Got it, you dropped the ball and didn’t ask a question. Cool.
I hope you’re reading this so I can remain passively perturbed at your workplace existence without actually confronting you on what a truly annoying human being you are.
Take Me Home
I’ve been hammering, hacking, elbowing, clawing, and headbutting my way through a gauntlet that is Excel. Just today I figured out every last calculation I’ll need in order to give the proper metrics to the team I’m reporting to. They asked, I worked, I found, I delivered.
Well, I thought I had. Then management got involved.
In multiple rows of the report there is a section asking for “90% Resolution Time.” They’re asking for a number here, a percentage of the other lump I’ve found, manipulated, and divulged information from. They are also asking for “The Red Crayon” from the box. There’s red. There’s also dark red, bright red, tomato red, harlot lipstick red, etc. So I ask “what kind of red would you like.”
The answer: “Oh yeah, that’s a column we added. Let’s meet tomorrow to talk about it.”
Please see my post from earlier to find out my ideas on meetings.
Take Me Home
Well, I thought I had. Then management got involved.
In multiple rows of the report there is a section asking for “90% Resolution Time.” They’re asking for a number here, a percentage of the other lump I’ve found, manipulated, and divulged information from. They are also asking for “The Red Crayon” from the box. There’s red. There’s also dark red, bright red, tomato red, harlot lipstick red, etc. So I ask “what kind of red would you like.”
The answer: “Oh yeah, that’s a column we added. Let’s meet tomorrow to talk about it.”
Please see my post from earlier to find out my ideas on meetings.
Take Me Home
Focus On The Job At Hand
I just finished a 6 day jaunt to find the proper formulas for a monstrous spreadsheet. That was 50% of the battle, finding the right formulas to get the data in the right place.
Now I'm dawdling. Doddling. Putzin' off. My apathy is truly inspiring. It's so odd to think that this monstrosity of a company will not be here next year. That's how bad it's been. This isn't like divorce either, where there are a number of reasons for two people to split up. This is like donating your body to science, and doing so while still alive.
To paraphrase Woody Allen:
"Those who can, Do. Those who can't, Manage. Those who can't Manage call meetings." Rome did not conquer the world in meetings! Rome was kicking the asses off of every settlement around it. Why? Because it had an ass to kick off. Rome was led by total a-holes and egotists and self-aggrandizing sumbitches with few morals and less integrity. But they GOT THE JOB DONE. I can only hope I'll be able to win the chariot race at lunch.
Yay Team Building day. Yay.
Realized Something
God has put me in a position of my life where I am not to be taking, only to be giving. I'm open to whatever comes my way, that's the only way to get the good, even if there's a little bad in it. But last night I realized that all the other good stuff that's come my way in the past year now needs to be turned back out to a few people close to me. I'm not going in to details here, yet, but a hero of mine is starting a long fight, and someone else I admire is on the last stretches of hard work and progress. My hero needs some good stuff as a means of inspiration and help. My dearly admired may need it because of all they've been through, it's time for a reminder of how truly awesome they really are.
So do one nice thing for someone you care about today. Buy them lunch or dinner or a drink, send them a card, empty their dishwasher, or just listen to them complain about their day. You'll get your turn soon enough, but sometimes, the wheel just needs a little nudge.
Hey, who's all sentimental today? This guy, the one who's gonna make millions writing Lifetime movies!
Peace in the Middle Earth!
Geoffers
Take Me Home
I just finished a 6 day jaunt to find the proper formulas for a monstrous spreadsheet. That was 50% of the battle, finding the right formulas to get the data in the right place.
Now I'm dawdling. Doddling. Putzin' off. My apathy is truly inspiring. It's so odd to think that this monstrosity of a company will not be here next year. That's how bad it's been. This isn't like divorce either, where there are a number of reasons for two people to split up. This is like donating your body to science, and doing so while still alive.
To paraphrase Woody Allen:
"Those who can, Do. Those who can't, Manage. Those who can't Manage call meetings." Rome did not conquer the world in meetings! Rome was kicking the asses off of every settlement around it. Why? Because it had an ass to kick off. Rome was led by total a-holes and egotists and self-aggrandizing sumbitches with few morals and less integrity. But they GOT THE JOB DONE. I can only hope I'll be able to win the chariot race at lunch.
Yay Team Building day. Yay.
Realized Something
God has put me in a position of my life where I am not to be taking, only to be giving. I'm open to whatever comes my way, that's the only way to get the good, even if there's a little bad in it. But last night I realized that all the other good stuff that's come my way in the past year now needs to be turned back out to a few people close to me. I'm not going in to details here, yet, but a hero of mine is starting a long fight, and someone else I admire is on the last stretches of hard work and progress. My hero needs some good stuff as a means of inspiration and help. My dearly admired may need it because of all they've been through, it's time for a reminder of how truly awesome they really are.
So do one nice thing for someone you care about today. Buy them lunch or dinner or a drink, send them a card, empty their dishwasher, or just listen to them complain about their day. You'll get your turn soon enough, but sometimes, the wheel just needs a little nudge.
Hey, who's all sentimental today? This guy, the one who's gonna make millions writing Lifetime movies!
Peace in the Middle Earth!
Geoffers
Take Me Home
Monday, April 26, 2004
I am laughing my fundle (Fun + Bundle) off right now about the lunacy of working for a company that is circling the drain while the vultures are over head. Managers are managing through Mad-Libs, that old game where you fill inthe the blanks with a type of word and then the recording party reads it back to you and you cry because the drugs are wearing off and you're stuck in ding-dang cubicle.
There are a lot of folks in moment-to-moment denial, as if another meeting will save this company?
"Things aren't going so well? We should sit down and talk about it. See, we have large day-planners and Blackberry's and offices, we know what we're doing."
I see. Tell me again how people with offices and day-planners managed this company to 1/3rd of it's IPO and into a position for it to be sold? Golly, who knows?
Oh my dad, I'm too tired to be at work today. Report Metrics on THIS!!!
Take Me Home
There are a lot of folks in moment-to-moment denial, as if another meeting will save this company?
"Things aren't going so well? We should sit down and talk about it. See, we have large day-planners and Blackberry's and offices, we know what we're doing."
I see. Tell me again how people with offices and day-planners managed this company to 1/3rd of it's IPO and into a position for it to be sold? Golly, who knows?
Oh my dad, I'm too tired to be at work today. Report Metrics on THIS!!!
Take Me Home
Thursday, April 22, 2004
I Know I'm Not Crazy
And we thought the water in Mexico was bad, check THIS out.
Let the captions begin:
Mmm! Tastes like pollo!
"Dios Mio, hombre, this tamale tastes like caca!" "You are eating the wrong end, mijo."
Gives new meaning to "feed the homeless."
I Went To Mexico And All I Got Was a Lousy Tamale Stuffed With One of Those "CHICLE! CHICLE!" Kids
Oh schidt, that's SICK!
Take Me Home
And we thought the water in Mexico was bad, check THIS out.
Let the captions begin:
Mmm! Tastes like pollo!
"Dios Mio, hombre, this tamale tastes like caca!" "You are eating the wrong end, mijo."
Gives new meaning to "feed the homeless."
I Went To Mexico And All I Got Was a Lousy Tamale Stuffed With One of Those "CHICLE! CHICLE!" Kids
Oh schidt, that's SICK!
Take Me Home
Read This Every Day Of Your Life
I want to be this family's dog. You will love them almost immediately. The Dooce!
What I Do
I cook for myself. I rarely use anything from a can. Sometimes I use a crockpot. I almost always use a saute pan, sharp knives, meats, and vegetables. I like cooking for myself. It's a zen thing. I like to cook for the woman society must label as my girlfriend in order to understand that we're together, but she's far away from me, most nights. That sucks knobs.
I prefer good vodka on the rocks with a twist to any other drink in the evening. Merlot's a close second. I don't sit and pound beers. I don't have to do shots of schiddy whiskey to be manly. I like what I like.
The manliest thing a man can do is not care about what people think of his preferences. Actually that's third place. In a tie for First place, in my mind, is be a person of integrity and teaching to those he loves, be they wives, children, friends, or Hooters wait-staff.
I don't shave my chest. I am 30. I am a Man. I'm an animal, a mammal. Grr.
A married friend of mine spent a weekend with his wife, about 9 hours total, shopping for knobs. I think I found two knobs already.
I work out. Not as much as I used to. I used to push iron 4 times a week. I got up to about 255lbs, where I felt like I could lift a house, but I looked like an outhouse. I hated it. I'm doing more cardio and only lifting once a week. I've been a bit chubby most of my life. I'm okay with it now, body issues aside, but I'm working on my "bikini season" look. I'm down about 20lbs since the beginning of the year, and have about 15 to go. Part of me would like to look like one of those Men's Health models. That part is my abs. Another part of me would like to look like another kind of model. You can put that together in your own heads and e-mail me as to which part and what kind of model.
I have a weekly rap session with a licensed counselor. Some folks say you have to be crazy to go. If you think you're crazy, you're not. I don’t hear voices that make me want to kill people, unless you count the chump at work who whistles and people who ask if I hear voices that make me want to kill people. If you are crazy, you would think only that everyone else is. Self-discovery is a vital journey to figuring out the patterns of your behavior, like if you are scared of being hugged, or why you get nervous about having sex on a park bench. I talk to a counselor about the things I can't tell my family and friends, usually about things caused by my family and friends.
I really do have a Psycho Ex. Manic Depression is great on the upswing. Once you hit the crest, holy Zoloft, Batman, hide the knives and cuticle scissors. Nobody does that much acid before they're 18 and then wakes up asking if Bob Dylan had dinner with us last night, then sobs when they find out he was never in the movie "The Truth About Cats & Dogs" when they're "fine." Get the H away from those people faster than you can say "Anne Heche." For real fun, ask them how they get along with their opposite-sex parent! Before doing so, gird thy loins.
As much as I care about my family and friends, I don’t care about anybody more than I care about myself. Think I am Selfish? Then you're a neurotic parent-issue freak. As long as I'm taking care of my feeding, my sleep, my money, my peace of mind, then everyone else in my world will see a happy Geofferson. If you want to see me turn into a badger, take my sleep and food from me for a few days. If you want to see me snap on a kid whining in the store, then let's go to the store! That's for sport. I'm unapologetic about being self-concerned. Sorry! Or not...
If I hear another person use the word "soulmate," I will punch Alanis Morrissette in the dick. The only people perfect for each other are twins. If you want it to work with someone, you have to make some kind of effort to let them share, too.
M, The woman in my life that society labels as "girlfriend" but means more to me than that, is really kick-ass. I've mentione her here before, but nothing too much because her personal life shouldn't be internetted. She's sweeter than she admits. I'd really rather not get into it because if I SCHIDT here she comes, play cool...
I'd be an awesome dad, no matter how much I hate to admit it. I'll probably adopt a 17 year old with a trust-fund and 3.8 GPA. Blue-eye Father is So proud of you Xiang Ziu!
Sometimes I walk through Target, make eye contact with a person, and nod to their zipper. They always look down. Surrealism: 2,943 - Them: 2 (okay, not always)
Hallmark, while handy in a pinch, is run by a secret wing of Mary Kay with proceeds going to fund PAX TV and Makeover shows.
I should have been working on a report the whole time I've been writing this, and I still feel like my priorities are straight. Anybody know how to extract time intervals in Excel from other data? I fear a pivot table is coming my way.
I can never thank the people in my life enough for their blessings, prayers, and shared hours of life. My gawd, how boring it would all be without each of you!
Rock on. Please.
Geofferson
Take Me Home
I want to be this family's dog. You will love them almost immediately. The Dooce!
What I Do
I cook for myself. I rarely use anything from a can. Sometimes I use a crockpot. I almost always use a saute pan, sharp knives, meats, and vegetables. I like cooking for myself. It's a zen thing. I like to cook for the woman society must label as my girlfriend in order to understand that we're together, but she's far away from me, most nights. That sucks knobs.
I prefer good vodka on the rocks with a twist to any other drink in the evening. Merlot's a close second. I don't sit and pound beers. I don't have to do shots of schiddy whiskey to be manly. I like what I like.
The manliest thing a man can do is not care about what people think of his preferences. Actually that's third place. In a tie for First place, in my mind, is be a person of integrity and teaching to those he loves, be they wives, children, friends, or Hooters wait-staff.
I don't shave my chest. I am 30. I am a Man. I'm an animal, a mammal. Grr.
A married friend of mine spent a weekend with his wife, about 9 hours total, shopping for knobs. I think I found two knobs already.
I work out. Not as much as I used to. I used to push iron 4 times a week. I got up to about 255lbs, where I felt like I could lift a house, but I looked like an outhouse. I hated it. I'm doing more cardio and only lifting once a week. I've been a bit chubby most of my life. I'm okay with it now, body issues aside, but I'm working on my "bikini season" look. I'm down about 20lbs since the beginning of the year, and have about 15 to go. Part of me would like to look like one of those Men's Health models. That part is my abs. Another part of me would like to look like another kind of model. You can put that together in your own heads and e-mail me as to which part and what kind of model.
I have a weekly rap session with a licensed counselor. Some folks say you have to be crazy to go. If you think you're crazy, you're not. I don’t hear voices that make me want to kill people, unless you count the chump at work who whistles and people who ask if I hear voices that make me want to kill people. If you are crazy, you would think only that everyone else is. Self-discovery is a vital journey to figuring out the patterns of your behavior, like if you are scared of being hugged, or why you get nervous about having sex on a park bench. I talk to a counselor about the things I can't tell my family and friends, usually about things caused by my family and friends.
I really do have a Psycho Ex. Manic Depression is great on the upswing. Once you hit the crest, holy Zoloft, Batman, hide the knives and cuticle scissors. Nobody does that much acid before they're 18 and then wakes up asking if Bob Dylan had dinner with us last night, then sobs when they find out he was never in the movie "The Truth About Cats & Dogs" when they're "fine." Get the H away from those people faster than you can say "Anne Heche." For real fun, ask them how they get along with their opposite-sex parent! Before doing so, gird thy loins.
As much as I care about my family and friends, I don’t care about anybody more than I care about myself. Think I am Selfish? Then you're a neurotic parent-issue freak. As long as I'm taking care of my feeding, my sleep, my money, my peace of mind, then everyone else in my world will see a happy Geofferson. If you want to see me turn into a badger, take my sleep and food from me for a few days. If you want to see me snap on a kid whining in the store, then let's go to the store! That's for sport. I'm unapologetic about being self-concerned. Sorry! Or not...
If I hear another person use the word "soulmate," I will punch Alanis Morrissette in the dick. The only people perfect for each other are twins. If you want it to work with someone, you have to make some kind of effort to let them share, too.
M, The woman in my life that society labels as "girlfriend" but means more to me than that, is really kick-ass. I've mentione her here before, but nothing too much because her personal life shouldn't be internetted. She's sweeter than she admits. I'd really rather not get into it because if I SCHIDT here she comes, play cool...
I'd be an awesome dad, no matter how much I hate to admit it. I'll probably adopt a 17 year old with a trust-fund and 3.8 GPA. Blue-eye Father is So proud of you Xiang Ziu!
Sometimes I walk through Target, make eye contact with a person, and nod to their zipper. They always look down. Surrealism: 2,943 - Them: 2 (okay, not always)
Hallmark, while handy in a pinch, is run by a secret wing of Mary Kay with proceeds going to fund PAX TV and Makeover shows.
I should have been working on a report the whole time I've been writing this, and I still feel like my priorities are straight. Anybody know how to extract time intervals in Excel from other data? I fear a pivot table is coming my way.
I can never thank the people in my life enough for their blessings, prayers, and shared hours of life. My gawd, how boring it would all be without each of you!
Rock on. Please.
Geofferson
Take Me Home
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Tuesday You Freaking Fruits
Aaaaw YEAH, I've done my first headline weekend at a club, rollicking through 45-50 minutes of material last weekend in Bellevue at the Ramada Inn Laughs Comedy Club and Lounge. It wasn't as tough as I thought it may be, as I took my time and allowed myself to be "in the moment." I knew that going up for that long would be a drain on anybody, no matter where they were in the room. So I had to go up and have fun with it, which I did. I didn't have any hecklers. The other comics there were Shoogs B. (in the house, whaddup?), The Mastermind, and Kid Dynamite.
Comedy itself seems to be eluding me lately. I've gotten past a lot of the little tricks that a lot of people use to get laughs, and I'm trying to be a lot more open on-stage. I guess it's that a lot of stories and moments I've been into the last year involve the feelings of and interactions with very real and sometimes very made-up people. Once I sit and write them in story form, with a lesson if not a punch line, I'll begin presenting them. What you see on the stage of a comedy show is usually days worth of hours worth of work. But it's a labor of love, except when nobody's laughing, where it is then a labor of making new ways to say you suck, having a few drinks, and driving home with $50 and a smudged phone # in your pocket. (Sorry I never called you, Diane... Deann... Denny... D9R#, was I getting cruised by a cyborg?)
'Twas fun. And now it's over. Thanks to the ChiliDog for the shot, the Guys for the assitance, and a great group of supporters (Melissa, Carlene, Nikki, Katie, Sharon, Mitch, George, Tim, Jeremy, Kim, Ali, Lauren (all the way from San Fran to see the show!), Dennis, Jean, Brian, Crystal, Mike, Jay, Dave, and Erik. I hope I gave you your money's worth).
Last but not least, a giant Thank You and Love You to my parents, Pam and Gerry. They showed up and surprised me, and it meant a "Lott" (see, because the family name is... yeah) to have them in the audience that night. In the front row, actually. My dad even heckled a little when I mentioned George W. God Bless them. It meant so much to have them there that night, especially when they were off to Canada early the next day. I was so happy to see them I forgot to ask them to grab me some "good" Tylenol. Love ya Mom & Dad.
(in all honesty, I blanked on including them in the Thank Yous. The Divine Miss M, who has to ask for your badge and gun, tipped me to my faux pas'rent. Uh yeah, I meant to do that... because I'm dumbtimes.)
Macros, Formulas, and Power-Drunk Devotees for God
I can't blog much this week or next as I'm working feverishly to figure out how to write a ton of macros for work. I am pulling data from a work-tracking system which holds records of all of our, pay attention... thanks..., all of the work our IT groups do here at Schmireless. Since time is money, I'm basically tracking how much it costs for us to... over here, hey, over here... are you okay? Sleepy? Need some coffee or are y'okay?... okay, so yeah we need to find out how much it costs for us to do our work, which is done quickly and cheaply now that budgets have been slashed and we've all taken a serious reduction in morale. Morale these days means "showing up mostly sober, or at least showered." Morale levels are inversely proportionate to how much you'll drink on a weeknight.
So yeah, I'm here at my desk doing all this fun stuff to keep a job I am overqualified for, spiritually and mentally, but pretty much on-target for when it comes to technical know-how. I've manipulated more numbers than Enron. I've taken out more zeros than heroin! I've found more Averages than a sorority girl at happy hour! I've drunk more cough medicine than that kid in jr. high who's parents didn't pay attention to him and he was crying out for help by drinking a lot of cough medicine!
MA-CRO.......................... PO-LO..............
If anybody knows of any really good companies that are hiring analytical minds with sardonic wit and an unshreddable moral fiber, send them my way. I have a friend who actually likes doing this schidt.
Oh, and if you want to, I'll be Here tonight doing comedy. I can't believe I missed The Swan last night to see the schidt I saw there. It was the cull bin of comedy last night, for anybody here who's ever picked apples.
Push-up contest anyone?
~Geoff
Take Me Home
Aaaaw YEAH, I've done my first headline weekend at a club, rollicking through 45-50 minutes of material last weekend in Bellevue at the Ramada Inn Laughs Comedy Club and Lounge. It wasn't as tough as I thought it may be, as I took my time and allowed myself to be "in the moment." I knew that going up for that long would be a drain on anybody, no matter where they were in the room. So I had to go up and have fun with it, which I did. I didn't have any hecklers. The other comics there were Shoogs B. (in the house, whaddup?), The Mastermind, and Kid Dynamite.
Comedy itself seems to be eluding me lately. I've gotten past a lot of the little tricks that a lot of people use to get laughs, and I'm trying to be a lot more open on-stage. I guess it's that a lot of stories and moments I've been into the last year involve the feelings of and interactions with very real and sometimes very made-up people. Once I sit and write them in story form, with a lesson if not a punch line, I'll begin presenting them. What you see on the stage of a comedy show is usually days worth of hours worth of work. But it's a labor of love, except when nobody's laughing, where it is then a labor of making new ways to say you suck, having a few drinks, and driving home with $50 and a smudged phone # in your pocket. (Sorry I never called you, Diane... Deann... Denny... D9R#, was I getting cruised by a cyborg?)
'Twas fun. And now it's over. Thanks to the ChiliDog for the shot, the Guys for the assitance, and a great group of supporters (Melissa, Carlene, Nikki, Katie, Sharon, Mitch, George, Tim, Jeremy, Kim, Ali, Lauren (all the way from San Fran to see the show!), Dennis, Jean, Brian, Crystal, Mike, Jay, Dave, and Erik. I hope I gave you your money's worth).
Last but not least, a giant Thank You and Love You to my parents, Pam and Gerry. They showed up and surprised me, and it meant a "Lott" (see, because the family name is... yeah) to have them in the audience that night. In the front row, actually. My dad even heckled a little when I mentioned George W. God Bless them. It meant so much to have them there that night, especially when they were off to Canada early the next day. I was so happy to see them I forgot to ask them to grab me some "good" Tylenol. Love ya Mom & Dad.
(in all honesty, I blanked on including them in the Thank Yous. The Divine Miss M, who has to ask for your badge and gun, tipped me to my faux pas'rent. Uh yeah, I meant to do that... because I'm dumbtimes.)
Macros, Formulas, and Power-Drunk Devotees for God
I can't blog much this week or next as I'm working feverishly to figure out how to write a ton of macros for work. I am pulling data from a work-tracking system which holds records of all of our, pay attention... thanks..., all of the work our IT groups do here at Schmireless. Since time is money, I'm basically tracking how much it costs for us to... over here, hey, over here... are you okay? Sleepy? Need some coffee or are y'okay?... okay, so yeah we need to find out how much it costs for us to do our work, which is done quickly and cheaply now that budgets have been slashed and we've all taken a serious reduction in morale. Morale these days means "showing up mostly sober, or at least showered." Morale levels are inversely proportionate to how much you'll drink on a weeknight.
So yeah, I'm here at my desk doing all this fun stuff to keep a job I am overqualified for, spiritually and mentally, but pretty much on-target for when it comes to technical know-how. I've manipulated more numbers than Enron. I've taken out more zeros than heroin! I've found more Averages than a sorority girl at happy hour! I've drunk more cough medicine than that kid in jr. high who's parents didn't pay attention to him and he was crying out for help by drinking a lot of cough medicine!
MA-CRO.......................... PO-LO..............
If anybody knows of any really good companies that are hiring analytical minds with sardonic wit and an unshreddable moral fiber, send them my way. I have a friend who actually likes doing this schidt.
Oh, and if you want to, I'll be Here tonight doing comedy. I can't believe I missed The Swan last night to see the schidt I saw there. It was the cull bin of comedy last night, for anybody here who's ever picked apples.
Push-up contest anyone?
~Geoff
Take Me Home
Friday, April 16, 2004
This Is Worth Every Bead of Sweat on My Furrowed Brow
The company I work for is sending an internal system that keeps track of our Social Security Numbers, bank #s for direct deposits, and other personal information, over to India as part of their "We Suck At Business" plan. India has no privacy laws, at least not to the extent we do in this country, nevermind the spamming, hacking, and calling we endure on a daily basis. I'm not sure what we can do about it, but these are jobs that your friends and neighbors once worked, being given, part & parcel, to another nation. The receiving nation is not to blame. The best we can do is stop supporting the companies that do this.
The schiddy thing is... I still need my job. Until it's taken by the now grown-up kid my family used to send 37-cents a month to feed, clothe and educate. I thought the best he'd do was two goats. Dude, he's getting a Dell.
http://www.cio.com/archive/041504/wireless.html
I'm outta here.
Take Me Home
The company I work for is sending an internal system that keeps track of our Social Security Numbers, bank #s for direct deposits, and other personal information, over to India as part of their "We Suck At Business" plan. India has no privacy laws, at least not to the extent we do in this country, nevermind the spamming, hacking, and calling we endure on a daily basis. I'm not sure what we can do about it, but these are jobs that your friends and neighbors once worked, being given, part & parcel, to another nation. The receiving nation is not to blame. The best we can do is stop supporting the companies that do this.
The schiddy thing is... I still need my job. Until it's taken by the now grown-up kid my family used to send 37-cents a month to feed, clothe and educate. I thought the best he'd do was two goats. Dude, he's getting a Dell.
http://www.cio.com/archive/041504/wireless.html
I'm outta here.
Take Me Home
I Guess You Had To Be There
I headlined over at Pegasus Pizza on Wed. night. I was the headliner, MC,and sound technician. Sound was stellar, btw. MC did a great job. Headliner had a tough time but looked really collected on stage. He ain't kiddin' around.
Anyway, there were only 2 other, uh... people who could get on stage and talk into a microphone (I will not use the term "comedian" for them, although Nicole has potential) so I had to put them up. None of my peeps were there. I started the show kind of late hoping they'd show, but they didn't until I was just about to get up. I started hoping they weren't dissing me, and instead hoped they were caught in a kitchen fire. A-holes. I put The Accountant up and he took a step into an almost too-rowdy room. I would have wrangled it better for him but I was too hopped on cold meds. OTC, though, no Rx's. Sadly...
Rowdy? Why? It's a bar full of regulars. There seems to be a new contingent of blonde girls sitting at the front tables this season, that just dawned on me. They're all really nice, too, and in fact I work with one of them, and she knows what hell it is to be at the Death Star every day. Atkins goes up 2nd and does pretty well just telling a story about a tryst with a drunken engaged gal and her drunken man thing. Nicole's a lesbian, for anybody who's wondering. And she's unemployed. Great comedic potential. She brings along a decent set of peeps, but they were drunk from a full day of drinking and smoking something ya gotta buy from sketchy white dudes with dredlocks and ferrets. Her crew got louder as the night went on and I stopped halfway through a setup to tell them to, if they'd please, lower the volume of their voices to accomodate their neighbors who are trying to listen to the show, but shorter and with something like 19 F-bombs. 2, only 2. They were sideways about that after the show, but it's a free show, for them. I'm working there and people are trying to listen and laugh so if the talkers left they wouldn't be losing any money and we'd all be spared another idiot in a pooka-shell necklace yelling out something in regards to his genitals. Oh, and "From Washington DC Larger Than Life Michael Oliver Carter" better shut the F up after his sets, too. He says he's been at it 13 years, done 1,295 sets, and still goes table to table collecting alms for the insecure. He's a goofball. Really insecure, really unfunny, really really really unfunny. Really. Un..
Funny. Imagine Redd Foxx on speed, in bi-focals and a strap-down cowboy hat. But unfunny. And desperate for attention.
So I go up and did my set and riffed a little here and there and then started playing to the Mafia in the back of the room. I'm not sure what I am to the Mafia, but we're all cool. The riffing stuff did well but I did a joke that fell flatter than a 7th grade girl's locker room and I have NEVER done it as well as the night I first Pegasassed it. It's a joke about how I think I'd like rap music better if rappers were happier. They have pretty amazing lifestyles when they get to the big time, but they still seem so bored with it, and I'd be ecstatic if I'd been able to procure their goods with an 8th-grade vo-cab-a-larry. Then it spirals away from me and blah. So yeah, that's what I know. I'm at Laughs this weekend, 2 more headline shows. I'm not really a headliner, more like a Feature who ChiliDog likes enough to give me a shot. I'll have to thank him for that. Maybe I'll buy him a pooka-shell necklace.
Then Shoogs B (in tha house whaddup?) and Dougles and I went to Weirdo's Tavern and Karaoke Chicken Satay Hut for beersss. I went home alone with thoughts of my awesome girlfriend asleep in "I Walk With A Slight" Olympia, 74 miles away. Hey God, remind me of this one when we talk, mmkay? You were done testing me when that one guy bumped into my leg with a Harley Sportster Oh, and God? Thanks for the good stuff, too, even if Blaine doesn't believe in it.
Oh, and as I finally got my big chance to headline... HBO will be there... 'cause it's free with your hotel room... I'm getting my shot, and this cock is taping his DVD at the Underbelly. Last year I MC'ed for him and he said I didn't suck. I'll take it. Go see him if you get a chance.
It's late. I'm out.
Take Me Home
I headlined over at Pegasus Pizza on Wed. night. I was the headliner, MC,and sound technician. Sound was stellar, btw. MC did a great job. Headliner had a tough time but looked really collected on stage. He ain't kiddin' around.
Anyway, there were only 2 other, uh... people who could get on stage and talk into a microphone (I will not use the term "comedian" for them, although Nicole has potential) so I had to put them up. None of my peeps were there. I started the show kind of late hoping they'd show, but they didn't until I was just about to get up. I started hoping they weren't dissing me, and instead hoped they were caught in a kitchen fire. A-holes. I put The Accountant up and he took a step into an almost too-rowdy room. I would have wrangled it better for him but I was too hopped on cold meds. OTC, though, no Rx's. Sadly...
Rowdy? Why? It's a bar full of regulars. There seems to be a new contingent of blonde girls sitting at the front tables this season, that just dawned on me. They're all really nice, too, and in fact I work with one of them, and she knows what hell it is to be at the Death Star every day. Atkins goes up 2nd and does pretty well just telling a story about a tryst with a drunken engaged gal and her drunken man thing. Nicole's a lesbian, for anybody who's wondering. And she's unemployed. Great comedic potential. She brings along a decent set of peeps, but they were drunk from a full day of drinking and smoking something ya gotta buy from sketchy white dudes with dredlocks and ferrets. Her crew got louder as the night went on and I stopped halfway through a setup to tell them to, if they'd please, lower the volume of their voices to accomodate their neighbors who are trying to listen to the show, but shorter and with something like 19 F-bombs. 2, only 2. They were sideways about that after the show, but it's a free show, for them. I'm working there and people are trying to listen and laugh so if the talkers left they wouldn't be losing any money and we'd all be spared another idiot in a pooka-shell necklace yelling out something in regards to his genitals. Oh, and "From Washington DC Larger Than Life Michael Oliver Carter" better shut the F up after his sets, too. He says he's been at it 13 years, done 1,295 sets, and still goes table to table collecting alms for the insecure. He's a goofball. Really insecure, really unfunny, really really really unfunny. Really. Un..
Funny. Imagine Redd Foxx on speed, in bi-focals and a strap-down cowboy hat. But unfunny. And desperate for attention.
So I go up and did my set and riffed a little here and there and then started playing to the Mafia in the back of the room. I'm not sure what I am to the Mafia, but we're all cool. The riffing stuff did well but I did a joke that fell flatter than a 7th grade girl's locker room and I have NEVER done it as well as the night I first Pegasassed it. It's a joke about how I think I'd like rap music better if rappers were happier. They have pretty amazing lifestyles when they get to the big time, but they still seem so bored with it, and I'd be ecstatic if I'd been able to procure their goods with an 8th-grade vo-cab-a-larry. Then it spirals away from me and blah. So yeah, that's what I know. I'm at Laughs this weekend, 2 more headline shows. I'm not really a headliner, more like a Feature who ChiliDog likes enough to give me a shot. I'll have to thank him for that. Maybe I'll buy him a pooka-shell necklace.
Then Shoogs B (in tha house whaddup?) and Dougles and I went to Weirdo's Tavern and Karaoke Chicken Satay Hut for beersss. I went home alone with thoughts of my awesome girlfriend asleep in "I Walk With A Slight" Olympia, 74 miles away. Hey God, remind me of this one when we talk, mmkay? You were done testing me when that one guy bumped into my leg with a Harley Sportster Oh, and God? Thanks for the good stuff, too, even if Blaine doesn't believe in it.
Oh, and as I finally got my big chance to headline... HBO will be there... 'cause it's free with your hotel room... I'm getting my shot, and this cock is taping his DVD at the Underbelly. Last year I MC'ed for him and he said I didn't suck. I'll take it. Go see him if you get a chance.
It's late. I'm out.
Take Me Home
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Also, I've learned that, for me, talking after 11:30pm starts turning into the equivalent of Parallel Parking. If there's a really wide space for me to work and nobody waiting, I'm pretty golden for getting it done. But if it's tight and it feels like the last chance to do it right, the quicker I make it the better chance I have of doing it right the first time, and then I should just shut it off and call it good.
Otherwise I back into someone's life... CAR, I mean car, and there's damage to repair.
Sometimes they park too close, but that doesn't mean I had to park there. I could have kept going.
Sometimes they want you to hit them, but that doesn't mean you have to gas it and total the thing. You don't have to hit them at all, it's your choice.
And when you get a front-spot to park in, take it. It's about damn time.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Take Me Home
Otherwise I back into someone's life... CAR, I mean car, and there's damage to repair.
Sometimes they park too close, but that doesn't mean I had to park there. I could have kept going.
Sometimes they want you to hit them, but that doesn't mean you have to gas it and total the thing. You don't have to hit them at all, it's your choice.
And when you get a front-spot to park in, take it. It's about damn time.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Take Me Home
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
The List
Yesterday was a learning day for Geoffers. I was really up & down yesterday, like I'd be totally on the ball for a while, then not only would I slide off the ball, the ball would bounce up and hit me in mine. My watering eyes would keep me from seeing where the puddle was that I was about to step in. It stopped about there, no bleeding or anything, just a few bumps and a small bruise.
I won't go into the details, but here's what I learned yesterday:
1) "Manager" is only a title. It has no bearing on a person's ability to manage, communicate, or know what they fawk are talking about. The best I can tell, at my company "Manager" means "Whoever's Been Here Longest."
2) When writing an e-mail that expresses how someone you adore makes you feel, leave out any mentions, sentences, or paragraphs about how sh*tty your day at work has been. If you are being sweet, make the sweetness about the other person. If your day's been sh*tty, blog it or write a joke about, but don't bitter the sweet. It's not always about you. Another time, perhaps, but this time, no.
3) When you mention that you are imperfect, make the mention only about yourself. Even if you have no malice behind your words it's not your place to skim past anybody else's realizations of their Being. You will likely end up looking like an a-hole, and probably feeling like one.
4) Sometimes the best you can do is apologize and hope you'll be forgiven. Other times you may drink a bottle of Pinot Noir and black out on the lanai. I usually go for the first option, because I've learned that the lanai is no place for wine black-outs, especially if you snore when you're wasted. Especially if you strip to the nude and sing "Friends In Low Places" when you're wasted. It's best to apologize from the gut and let it go into the past.
5) Some days you learn. Some days you teach. Some days you get detention. Some days you make the honor roll. Some days you get the girl. Some days the girl gets you. Some days you peel out in front of people and they cheer. Some days you peel out and your friend flies out the passenger door to scrape and bruise their bumper on the ground and you feel like an a-hole. And some days you come home and there are notes and nudges all around your home that remind that somebody in this world really does like you for who you are, imperfections and all, and you get a feeling that you may never be able to find the words that express how much it meant. If you try, please see #2 above.
Class is in Session
Geoffers
Take Me Home
Yesterday was a learning day for Geoffers. I was really up & down yesterday, like I'd be totally on the ball for a while, then not only would I slide off the ball, the ball would bounce up and hit me in mine. My watering eyes would keep me from seeing where the puddle was that I was about to step in. It stopped about there, no bleeding or anything, just a few bumps and a small bruise.
I won't go into the details, but here's what I learned yesterday:
1) "Manager" is only a title. It has no bearing on a person's ability to manage, communicate, or know what they fawk are talking about. The best I can tell, at my company "Manager" means "Whoever's Been Here Longest."
2) When writing an e-mail that expresses how someone you adore makes you feel, leave out any mentions, sentences, or paragraphs about how sh*tty your day at work has been. If you are being sweet, make the sweetness about the other person. If your day's been sh*tty, blog it or write a joke about, but don't bitter the sweet. It's not always about you. Another time, perhaps, but this time, no.
3) When you mention that you are imperfect, make the mention only about yourself. Even if you have no malice behind your words it's not your place to skim past anybody else's realizations of their Being. You will likely end up looking like an a-hole, and probably feeling like one.
4) Sometimes the best you can do is apologize and hope you'll be forgiven. Other times you may drink a bottle of Pinot Noir and black out on the lanai. I usually go for the first option, because I've learned that the lanai is no place for wine black-outs, especially if you snore when you're wasted. Especially if you strip to the nude and sing "Friends In Low Places" when you're wasted. It's best to apologize from the gut and let it go into the past.
5) Some days you learn. Some days you teach. Some days you get detention. Some days you make the honor roll. Some days you get the girl. Some days the girl gets you. Some days you peel out in front of people and they cheer. Some days you peel out and your friend flies out the passenger door to scrape and bruise their bumper on the ground and you feel like an a-hole. And some days you come home and there are notes and nudges all around your home that remind that somebody in this world really does like you for who you are, imperfections and all, and you get a feeling that you may never be able to find the words that express how much it meant. If you try, please see #2 above.
Class is in Session
Geoffers
Take Me Home
Rave Reviews
I had a pretty darn good weekend last weekend… weekend. (3rd time's funniest) I'm in awe over the weather we had. It affected my moods, my skin coloration, my sleep patterns, all in good ways. 80 degrees on April 11th? I'm not sure if I should jump for joy or start looking for frogs falling from the sky.
This past weekend I did 4 sets at Giggles in opening for Dat Phan, who won NBC's "Last Comic Standing" last year. It was the epitome of Comedy in America… a contest (you know how I feel about those) being judged by people who don't really know what it takes to be a great comedian. Popularity contest, basically, and that's fine. I followed The World's Funniest Hot-Tar Roofer, who has really made lemonade out of his life. Now if only that lemonade had some Zoloft in it we wouldn't have to temper humor with wild mood swings. I watched Dat's sets as far into them as possible before accepting the fact that his comedy is really quite hacky, even after he's been at it for 8 years. This is why Stand-up is Ultimate Justice: What really matters in Comedy is how you do on stage. Your PRODUCT. Dat's a very cool guy, but his material is very easy and gets decent laughs. The key is to be cool off-stage as well as respected on it.
My sets were really good as I found my voice a long time ago. The person that I am on-stage is an uncorked version of me, which is good for the stage but could cause issues off of it. I couldn't do as much time as I wanted to do, but that's okay. I was reeeeally out there on Saturday night, and so fully enmeshed into my performance that I felt like I was inside of myself, could see myself telling the jokes. Admittedly I didn't eat much dinner, okay, but it was a feeling not unlike gliding on the water in a rowboat; I could feel the work, and a little of it was taking me a long way so that I could enjoy the moment. This week: Laughs Comedy Club! The bastards didn't even put me on their website. I'm adding $25 to my asking price. At the very least, M, who is in your mug like coffee y'all, should be able to drink for free. I hope she brings a traveller cup.
The Highlight!
On Easter Sunday I headed out to Maple Valley, named so because there is an obscene number of Vine Maple Trees there, and because its more charming than a town named "CarTrunk Methlabton." I spent most of the day there with my family and we hung out, ate, talked, ate, watched The Masters, ate, I think I ate something, then we talked about eating. I'm working out extra hard this week.
Later in the day I cruised up to Auburn to see M, who's hoppin' down the Bunny Trail, as she was visiting family in the area. It was an hour or so of chilling with her tribe, all of them quite nice, even the man known as FatA$$ was on his best-ish behavior. Then we headed out and I felt like heading back to Kenmore was a waste of time, since there was nothing there for me but an empty apartment and 75 miles between me and M, who was on the road again.
Attention! Sweet Story Ahead!
I get home and there's a card on my kitchen table, for me, of course. Inside was a funny, sweet card that M left for me, and under the card a Dove Truffle egg with a clue. She had set me up with her very own Easter Egg Hunt, each egg attached to a clue as to where the next prize was. Not only was I finding candy - GOOD candy, chocolate and truffles, yo, none of that candy corn and jelly bean BS - but she gave me a CD that I wanted and couldn't find (Garth Brooks' "Roping The Wind," awesome) and some nice lounging pants in which I can, as you may have guessed, lounge.
Do you read me clearly?
She took time and effort to plan something out for me, from the goodness of her heart. For me. I was and still am more than a little surprised by it. I had butterflies over it. Butterflies! I'm a guy, I shouldn't get butterflies, but there they were. As far as somebody doing something sweet for me, that had to be the top. I can't explain why, other than to say I appreciate her so much that it's almost ridiculable.
And all I got her as a DVD of "Can't Buy Me Love." Yes… I'm a guy… A lucky guy, but a guy none the less.
Then last night I feel like I stuck my foot in my own ass. More on that when the Zoloft kicks in.
(sigh)
------------------------------------------
Take Me Home
I had a pretty darn good weekend last weekend… weekend. (3rd time's funniest) I'm in awe over the weather we had. It affected my moods, my skin coloration, my sleep patterns, all in good ways. 80 degrees on April 11th? I'm not sure if I should jump for joy or start looking for frogs falling from the sky.
This past weekend I did 4 sets at Giggles in opening for Dat Phan, who won NBC's "Last Comic Standing" last year. It was the epitome of Comedy in America… a contest (you know how I feel about those) being judged by people who don't really know what it takes to be a great comedian. Popularity contest, basically, and that's fine. I followed The World's Funniest Hot-Tar Roofer, who has really made lemonade out of his life. Now if only that lemonade had some Zoloft in it we wouldn't have to temper humor with wild mood swings. I watched Dat's sets as far into them as possible before accepting the fact that his comedy is really quite hacky, even after he's been at it for 8 years. This is why Stand-up is Ultimate Justice: What really matters in Comedy is how you do on stage. Your PRODUCT. Dat's a very cool guy, but his material is very easy and gets decent laughs. The key is to be cool off-stage as well as respected on it.
My sets were really good as I found my voice a long time ago. The person that I am on-stage is an uncorked version of me, which is good for the stage but could cause issues off of it. I couldn't do as much time as I wanted to do, but that's okay. I was reeeeally out there on Saturday night, and so fully enmeshed into my performance that I felt like I was inside of myself, could see myself telling the jokes. Admittedly I didn't eat much dinner, okay, but it was a feeling not unlike gliding on the water in a rowboat; I could feel the work, and a little of it was taking me a long way so that I could enjoy the moment. This week: Laughs Comedy Club! The bastards didn't even put me on their website. I'm adding $25 to my asking price. At the very least, M, who is in your mug like coffee y'all, should be able to drink for free. I hope she brings a traveller cup.
The Highlight!
On Easter Sunday I headed out to Maple Valley, named so because there is an obscene number of Vine Maple Trees there, and because its more charming than a town named "CarTrunk Methlabton." I spent most of the day there with my family and we hung out, ate, talked, ate, watched The Masters, ate, I think I ate something, then we talked about eating. I'm working out extra hard this week.
Later in the day I cruised up to Auburn to see M, who's hoppin' down the Bunny Trail, as she was visiting family in the area. It was an hour or so of chilling with her tribe, all of them quite nice, even the man known as FatA$$ was on his best-ish behavior. Then we headed out and I felt like heading back to Kenmore was a waste of time, since there was nothing there for me but an empty apartment and 75 miles between me and M, who was on the road again.
Attention! Sweet Story Ahead!
I get home and there's a card on my kitchen table, for me, of course. Inside was a funny, sweet card that M left for me, and under the card a Dove Truffle egg with a clue. She had set me up with her very own Easter Egg Hunt, each egg attached to a clue as to where the next prize was. Not only was I finding candy - GOOD candy, chocolate and truffles, yo, none of that candy corn and jelly bean BS - but she gave me a CD that I wanted and couldn't find (Garth Brooks' "Roping The Wind," awesome) and some nice lounging pants in which I can, as you may have guessed, lounge.
Do you read me clearly?
She took time and effort to plan something out for me, from the goodness of her heart. For me. I was and still am more than a little surprised by it. I had butterflies over it. Butterflies! I'm a guy, I shouldn't get butterflies, but there they were. As far as somebody doing something sweet for me, that had to be the top. I can't explain why, other than to say I appreciate her so much that it's almost ridiculable.
And all I got her as a DVD of "Can't Buy Me Love." Yes… I'm a guy… A lucky guy, but a guy none the less.
Then last night I feel like I stuck my foot in my own ass. More on that when the Zoloft kicks in.
(sigh)
------------------------------------------
Take Me Home
Friday, April 09, 2004
What's So Funny?
Wednesday night I drove to Olympia to see M, who loves this bar, and hang with some of the new people I've met through her. Over the course of the night I got up and did comedy at a place called Hannah's, a local bar (there must be 20 in 4 blocks on 4th in downtown Oly, it's awesome), and had a decent set. Scattered but I got to riff a little, do a few new jokes, and had a good response from some dudes. Those who listened were laughing, but it was mostly a pool & brew room. There was an open-mic for music, and after some dude who thinks he's the 2nd coming of a guy who obsessively idolizes but has not 1/10th the talent of Neil Young and looks like a drug-free Ted Nugent, and another guy who knows a lot of Dave Matthews and Pearl Jam songs (dude, you have to stop touching college chicks), I got up. I think the crowd was happy to not hear another song mangled by the "seeking spirit of a wandering soul." Why can't people just say they're un-hireable? Gawd, there are few jobs that are "beneath me," as some would say, but what I KNOW is not below me is making money, getting paid to do what I do. That being said, I called in sick yesterday, and spent the afternoon in full-on Writer mode, reading and writing and being a little introspective. Then I had dinner with M, who felt like chicken last night!, and it was awesome. Then on to Giggles for the open mic night. On home for sleepy. Sweet.
------------
I have 4 shows this weekend, mostly tune-ups for next week's "headline" stuff I'll be doing. I always start freaking out a little when the "have-to" shows come up. I wonder if I have the time. I wonder if I have the material. I wonder how long I can stand on a stage and talk and not pee inside of my pants. I love comedy, but I understand it so well, for myself, that I feel like I'm standing really close to a large picture of a naked woman: I am close enough to see details of a small area, but I couldn't tell you what it is unless I back up, and if I back up too far, what if I find out I was eyeball-to-follicle with a furry part of Roseanne Barr, like her lower back? My coughing's been keeping me up enough, I don't need that burned into my head.
I don't really know what I'll talk about tonight, let alone next week. I have some stuff that I really like, some stuff I love, and some stuff that I think is really bad, but crowds always laugh at. I'm writing a lot about relationships lately, but not the "men and women are differ'nt, boy-howdy!" I think it's so interesting how the interaction between friends is a step below the interaction between people who are dating and emotionally involved. I doubt that I have any actual insight to share, but I know that Love shouldn't be hard, I believe in taking things slow, and other than the opposite sex, you don't need any real skill to get married.
Oh, and every time I hear someone say "I am looking for my soulmate", somebody should punch Ethan Hawke in the dick.
I wonder what's going to happen over this next week. I have an urge to say whatever's on my mind at any time, as an experiment of true honesty and forthrightness. There are so many people who I think could use a compliment or a reality check at any given moment, and I mind my own business and say nothing. I could leave out the negative stuff and only say the nice things, but I don't even do that. If I only point out the yin, that doesn't mean I don't see the yang. And sometimes my yang is hanging way out there, but I have to cover it with my yan to make sure people don't call the cops.
I'm no longer concerned with marriage. In this country, the governing bodies say that people of the same sex cannot be officially recognized as married. It says nothing of the fact that people must be in love, or mature, or ready for everything that follows their wedding, which is NOT a marriage. Weddings are big "look at me" parties that usually mean a bride's parents are out $15,000 to make their "little girl" happy. I want none of that. Give me a wedding on a beach in Hawaii, a few friends and family. I'll post it on the web, you can keep your garter tossing and your Electric Slide.
I'm off to get on with my life. Work so you can Live. Get a buzz tonight, anyway that you can.
Geoffers
Take Me Home
Wednesday night I drove to Olympia to see M, who loves this bar, and hang with some of the new people I've met through her. Over the course of the night I got up and did comedy at a place called Hannah's, a local bar (there must be 20 in 4 blocks on 4th in downtown Oly, it's awesome), and had a decent set. Scattered but I got to riff a little, do a few new jokes, and had a good response from some dudes. Those who listened were laughing, but it was mostly a pool & brew room. There was an open-mic for music, and after some dude who thinks he's the 2nd coming of a guy who obsessively idolizes but has not 1/10th the talent of Neil Young and looks like a drug-free Ted Nugent, and another guy who knows a lot of Dave Matthews and Pearl Jam songs (dude, you have to stop touching college chicks), I got up. I think the crowd was happy to not hear another song mangled by the "seeking spirit of a wandering soul." Why can't people just say they're un-hireable? Gawd, there are few jobs that are "beneath me," as some would say, but what I KNOW is not below me is making money, getting paid to do what I do. That being said, I called in sick yesterday, and spent the afternoon in full-on Writer mode, reading and writing and being a little introspective. Then I had dinner with M, who felt like chicken last night!, and it was awesome. Then on to Giggles for the open mic night. On home for sleepy. Sweet.
------------
I have 4 shows this weekend, mostly tune-ups for next week's "headline" stuff I'll be doing. I always start freaking out a little when the "have-to" shows come up. I wonder if I have the time. I wonder if I have the material. I wonder how long I can stand on a stage and talk and not pee inside of my pants. I love comedy, but I understand it so well, for myself, that I feel like I'm standing really close to a large picture of a naked woman: I am close enough to see details of a small area, but I couldn't tell you what it is unless I back up, and if I back up too far, what if I find out I was eyeball-to-follicle with a furry part of Roseanne Barr, like her lower back? My coughing's been keeping me up enough, I don't need that burned into my head.
I don't really know what I'll talk about tonight, let alone next week. I have some stuff that I really like, some stuff I love, and some stuff that I think is really bad, but crowds always laugh at. I'm writing a lot about relationships lately, but not the "men and women are differ'nt, boy-howdy!" I think it's so interesting how the interaction between friends is a step below the interaction between people who are dating and emotionally involved. I doubt that I have any actual insight to share, but I know that Love shouldn't be hard, I believe in taking things slow, and other than the opposite sex, you don't need any real skill to get married.
Oh, and every time I hear someone say "I am looking for my soulmate", somebody should punch Ethan Hawke in the dick.
I wonder what's going to happen over this next week. I have an urge to say whatever's on my mind at any time, as an experiment of true honesty and forthrightness. There are so many people who I think could use a compliment or a reality check at any given moment, and I mind my own business and say nothing. I could leave out the negative stuff and only say the nice things, but I don't even do that. If I only point out the yin, that doesn't mean I don't see the yang. And sometimes my yang is hanging way out there, but I have to cover it with my yan to make sure people don't call the cops.
I'm no longer concerned with marriage. In this country, the governing bodies say that people of the same sex cannot be officially recognized as married. It says nothing of the fact that people must be in love, or mature, or ready for everything that follows their wedding, which is NOT a marriage. Weddings are big "look at me" parties that usually mean a bride's parents are out $15,000 to make their "little girl" happy. I want none of that. Give me a wedding on a beach in Hawaii, a few friends and family. I'll post it on the web, you can keep your garter tossing and your Electric Slide.
I'm off to get on with my life. Work so you can Live. Get a buzz tonight, anyway that you can.
Geoffers
Take Me Home
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
I'll Take "Days That Remind Me Of Nothing" for $600
My respiratory illness is being beat back by a cocktail of DayQuil, NyQuil, Penicillin, Juicy Juice! (100% Juice!), and a lot of sleep. I slept most of last night, but woke this morning to the dulcet tones of my lungs forcefully expelling air and whatever else is in there. I've got some sort of hoofed beast in my manifold, it's horrific. Overall I feel fine. No aches or pains, except the ones that are in my back and abs from the full-body lung-spasms. I'm actually gettin' a pretty good work out in all this. Lots of cardio, lots of abs, and my neighbors are kept up all night by my hacking or crying. Either way, I'm a winner.
So I get up and get moving today, and thankfully my first human contact is with M, who's got your Quizno's right here punk, and not hearing Gary Jules again. Gawd, how can you face a day when the first words you hear are "I find it kinda funny/I find it kinda sad/That the dreams in which I'm dying/are the best I've ever had." I need huggy now.
I get to work, 9-ish, not much going on. I have jack-all to do, a couple of reports to run, which I ran, and really weren't worth the time to run them. But it's my job, so I did it. And that's about where I stand now. Yay. Ideally I would like to win the Lotto, and work at some job I could abuse customers at all day. That's a blown premise, but gawd if it isn't true.
Cool: Coffee ice cream, knuckle pushups, squats, romanian deadlifts, gettin' fonky, open bar, Monterey Jack cheese, BioTest GROW! Low-carb protein shake mix (chocolate), and cool people.
Cold: Trucker hats, pooka shell necklaces, baseball traffic, men wearing jerseys, bleeding ulcers, non-bleeding ulcers, ringer t's, rumpley jeans, Frats, Sluts, and hacks.
Take Me Home
My respiratory illness is being beat back by a cocktail of DayQuil, NyQuil, Penicillin, Juicy Juice! (100% Juice!), and a lot of sleep. I slept most of last night, but woke this morning to the dulcet tones of my lungs forcefully expelling air and whatever else is in there. I've got some sort of hoofed beast in my manifold, it's horrific. Overall I feel fine. No aches or pains, except the ones that are in my back and abs from the full-body lung-spasms. I'm actually gettin' a pretty good work out in all this. Lots of cardio, lots of abs, and my neighbors are kept up all night by my hacking or crying. Either way, I'm a winner.
So I get up and get moving today, and thankfully my first human contact is with M, who's got your Quizno's right here punk, and not hearing Gary Jules again. Gawd, how can you face a day when the first words you hear are "I find it kinda funny/I find it kinda sad/That the dreams in which I'm dying/are the best I've ever had." I need huggy now.
I get to work, 9-ish, not much going on. I have jack-all to do, a couple of reports to run, which I ran, and really weren't worth the time to run them. But it's my job, so I did it. And that's about where I stand now. Yay. Ideally I would like to win the Lotto, and work at some job I could abuse customers at all day. That's a blown premise, but gawd if it isn't true.
Cool: Coffee ice cream, knuckle pushups, squats, romanian deadlifts, gettin' fonky, open bar, Monterey Jack cheese, BioTest GROW! Low-carb protein shake mix (chocolate), and cool people.
Cold: Trucker hats, pooka shell necklaces, baseball traffic, men wearing jerseys, bleeding ulcers, non-bleeding ulcers, ringer t's, rumpley jeans, Frats, Sluts, and hacks.
Take Me Home
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
Working Out My Issues
Last week I had a weird encounter at the gym. I was doing some lat-pulls, and was finishing a set of 15, and did 2 behind my head, which as we all know is BAD BAD BAD, right? Compresses your vertebrae a little more than is necessary. As I'm walking away from the machine, a "trainer" comes over and says to me…
"Hiiii! I'm Angie, and I've been here about 3 weeks now as a trainer. I noticed you were doing lat pulls behind your head which can cause some strain and injury to your cervical collar. Try to do all of your pulls in front of your head to protect your neck, okay?"
Apparently Angie gets her exercise from jumping to conclusions. All I could muster was "Hi Angie, I'm Geoff. I've been lifting weights for the better part of 15 years. I notice you like cheap make-up and home perms, which turn your skin orange and your hair to Easter grass. From now on, try not to answer questions I didn't ask, and I won't damage your cervix, mmkay?"
Canyon Park Fitness has an opening for Personal Trainers, if anyone's looking.
Opening Day Of Pro Baseball...
Today is the first day of the Major League Baseball season. That means for 81 days, at the least, traffic into Seattle will be 4 times as crappy as usual. It means little else to those of us who could care less about baseball. I don't like pro baseball. In-stadium, okay, but not on TV, not on the radio. BO-RING. Since I'm not frequenting the park, but 45,000 other people are, that's an average of 7 million more cars on the road, and not nearly enough entertaining if not horrific accidents involving Semis and Mariner car-pools.
If you're a big baseball fan, good for you. I'm sure I could tell by your pull-over, t-shirt, socks, cap, pins, sweatbands (sweatbands? you have a desk job), and SoDo Mojo decal, which is now 4 years too late, I think. Anyway, this marks the end of many nights for me at the Comedy Underpants with the Mariners are in town. It will be harder to find parking than finding a straight guy wintering in Ibiza.
Take me out to the ball game, take me out with a bat.
Take Me Home
Last week I had a weird encounter at the gym. I was doing some lat-pulls, and was finishing a set of 15, and did 2 behind my head, which as we all know is BAD BAD BAD, right? Compresses your vertebrae a little more than is necessary. As I'm walking away from the machine, a "trainer" comes over and says to me…
"Hiiii! I'm Angie, and I've been here about 3 weeks now as a trainer. I noticed you were doing lat pulls behind your head which can cause some strain and injury to your cervical collar. Try to do all of your pulls in front of your head to protect your neck, okay?"
Apparently Angie gets her exercise from jumping to conclusions. All I could muster was "Hi Angie, I'm Geoff. I've been lifting weights for the better part of 15 years. I notice you like cheap make-up and home perms, which turn your skin orange and your hair to Easter grass. From now on, try not to answer questions I didn't ask, and I won't damage your cervix, mmkay?"
Canyon Park Fitness has an opening for Personal Trainers, if anyone's looking.
Opening Day Of Pro Baseball...
Today is the first day of the Major League Baseball season. That means for 81 days, at the least, traffic into Seattle will be 4 times as crappy as usual. It means little else to those of us who could care less about baseball. I don't like pro baseball. In-stadium, okay, but not on TV, not on the radio. BO-RING. Since I'm not frequenting the park, but 45,000 other people are, that's an average of 7 million more cars on the road, and not nearly enough entertaining if not horrific accidents involving Semis and Mariner car-pools.
If you're a big baseball fan, good for you. I'm sure I could tell by your pull-over, t-shirt, socks, cap, pins, sweatbands (sweatbands? you have a desk job), and SoDo Mojo decal, which is now 4 years too late, I think. Anyway, this marks the end of many nights for me at the Comedy Underpants with the Mariners are in town. It will be harder to find parking than finding a straight guy wintering in Ibiza.
Take me out to the ball game, take me out with a bat.
Take Me Home
Monday, April 05, 2004
The Weekend In Review
I had myself a great weekend. It was way more relaxed than I thought it would be, but that's good, as I'm soldiering through the SARS-like chest cold that everyone else beat about 6 weeks ago.
I played a little pool on Friday night at Jillians. Here's a quick transcription of me playing pool, regardless of how easy the shot is:
"7, corner pocket, (breathe, breathe), >PLICK< SH*T!"
We almost ended up at some dive on Cap Hill, a bar that has an awning that says "Typewriters" (and why wouldn't it?). It apparently serves only imported beers from Belgium, Denmark, and North Dakota. I didn't want to go in at first because the billowing smoke was reminiscent of a couch fire, but we were there to meet friends and were going to play the PR and be like dat.
I was there with M, who wants to Rock&Roll All Wednesday, and we bailed after 5 minutes of waiting on the friends who suggested the place. We hoofed it to B&O Espresso, which has a very café-like bar and a dessert case that would shame Anna Nicole's breakfast menu. She apparently Trim Spa'ed her way to a leaner bod. That's no big feat, when you consider Trim Spa is in pill form, and she was already downing more pills than a test-rat for Bayer. "Take one more? Okay, but I gets to wash 'er down with buttermilk! Eew, this one taste like the green food." Bluck.
Saturday comes around, and I head to the state Capitol, then South-ish for two towns I've never been to. I got to see a little of Satsop and the Mini-Mart in Brady. Great night of chillin', chattin', and serious eatin' in Satsop. Met M's mom, M's brother and his fiancee, and threw darts against a jail guard with a penchant for do-it-his-own-damn-self woodfire stove installation. The amount of smoke that thing emitted INSIDE the garage/workshop/dart arena, compounded with the Friday night Typewriter joint's smokiness, probably only exacerbated the amount of lunggage I am carrying. It was funny to hear them say "Close the door, you're letting the heat out!" Guys, that's not heat, that's lactic acidosis from asphyxiation. At the risk of sounding like a weenie, I'm not down with monoxide-induced bronchial spasms. Call me fickle, pickle, but my brain cells are leaving in clown cars every other hour. Dig it.
Sunday started late due to not setting the clock an hour ahead. I wasn't paying attention to the clock anywho, but I think the time change figured a bit into today. Read on...
I SCREAM FOR THIS STUFF!
Last night we got some iced cream, a treat for me as I'm usually adhering to a strict high-protein, low-fun diet. I opted for Godiva Chocolate Truffle Raspberry, and M, who could kick it if it needs to be kicked, grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry's classic Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
The CCCD is always a crowd pleaser. I had a hankering for something fruity with a kick, but there's only one David Lee Roth. So I grab the Godiva Chocolate Truffle Raspberry, plop on the couch for a viewing of Cold Creek Manor (wait for it on GameBoy), and settle in for a-viewin'. Damned if I didn't eat 3/4ths of the pint. I don't even feel bad about it. It was good. NAY, it was spiritually erotic, or erotically spiritually. It was a delight for all the senses. Don't eat any, it will kill you. If you eat a bunch, I won't be able to have any, and I will pants you at lunch.
Try me, jerk-hole.
More Hacks Than The Tacoma Underground
Holy Lumberhacks I have a chest cold that is working me over like Ike on Tina. About 4-6 weeks back it seemed EVERYONE had this cold. It starts in your face and makes your head feel like it's going to pop, but not the fun "One more DayQuil & Cran, bartender!" kind of floaty-head popping. It feels like a quick turn of your head could cause inertia to take over the contents of the nasal passages, and sling it back to the other side while your face collapses. I suggest Claritin, lots of water, and not looking at stuff.
So I get past that part of it, and for 2 days I am golden-retriever healthy. Good color, cold, wet snout, peeing outside, plenty of yard-time. Then it hits me. Last Tuesday night, WHAM, this chest cold lungjacks me and won't leave. It's taken up squatter's rights in my bronchial tubes, and the only way to get it out is through the spasms my lungs are running through. This isn't "tickle in the throat, time for tea and honey!" coughing, this is full-diaphragm, red eye bursting, back cracking, ab-tightening lung assault to break this up. Last night I would sleep for 40 minutes, wake for 20, and cough for 10 of those. I'm surprised I wasn't asked to sleep in my car. Don't think I wasn't gonna volunteer.
My plan of attack for tonight: DayQuil and 1 Tylenol PM, OR, Cherry NyQuil over Godiva Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Chocolate, a.k.a "The AnnaNicole."
The Straight Dope
There is almost no more liberating feeling than realizing and accepting your parents as People, not just Mom & Dad. It makes it much easier to see where they've been in life, how we can affect each other with the smallest gestures of love and kindness, and how much it's gonna suck to put them in Shady Pines Adult Center. That sounds kinda saucy, if you aks me.
Go ahead, aks me…
Geoffers
What UpHomey?
I had myself a great weekend. It was way more relaxed than I thought it would be, but that's good, as I'm soldiering through the SARS-like chest cold that everyone else beat about 6 weeks ago.
I played a little pool on Friday night at Jillians. Here's a quick transcription of me playing pool, regardless of how easy the shot is:
"7, corner pocket, (breathe, breathe), >PLICK< SH*T!"
We almost ended up at some dive on Cap Hill, a bar that has an awning that says "Typewriters" (and why wouldn't it?). It apparently serves only imported beers from Belgium, Denmark, and North Dakota. I didn't want to go in at first because the billowing smoke was reminiscent of a couch fire, but we were there to meet friends and were going to play the PR and be like dat.
I was there with M, who wants to Rock&Roll All Wednesday, and we bailed after 5 minutes of waiting on the friends who suggested the place. We hoofed it to B&O Espresso, which has a very café-like bar and a dessert case that would shame Anna Nicole's breakfast menu. She apparently Trim Spa'ed her way to a leaner bod. That's no big feat, when you consider Trim Spa is in pill form, and she was already downing more pills than a test-rat for Bayer. "Take one more? Okay, but I gets to wash 'er down with buttermilk! Eew, this one taste like the green food." Bluck.
Saturday comes around, and I head to the state Capitol, then South-ish for two towns I've never been to. I got to see a little of Satsop and the Mini-Mart in Brady. Great night of chillin', chattin', and serious eatin' in Satsop. Met M's mom, M's brother and his fiancee, and threw darts against a jail guard with a penchant for do-it-his-own-damn-self woodfire stove installation. The amount of smoke that thing emitted INSIDE the garage/workshop/dart arena, compounded with the Friday night Typewriter joint's smokiness, probably only exacerbated the amount of lunggage I am carrying. It was funny to hear them say "Close the door, you're letting the heat out!" Guys, that's not heat, that's lactic acidosis from asphyxiation. At the risk of sounding like a weenie, I'm not down with monoxide-induced bronchial spasms. Call me fickle, pickle, but my brain cells are leaving in clown cars every other hour. Dig it.
Sunday started late due to not setting the clock an hour ahead. I wasn't paying attention to the clock anywho, but I think the time change figured a bit into today. Read on...
I SCREAM FOR THIS STUFF!
Last night we got some iced cream, a treat for me as I'm usually adhering to a strict high-protein, low-fun diet. I opted for Godiva Chocolate Truffle Raspberry, and M, who could kick it if it needs to be kicked, grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry's classic Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
The CCCD is always a crowd pleaser. I had a hankering for something fruity with a kick, but there's only one David Lee Roth. So I grab the Godiva Chocolate Truffle Raspberry, plop on the couch for a viewing of Cold Creek Manor (wait for it on GameBoy), and settle in for a-viewin'. Damned if I didn't eat 3/4ths of the pint. I don't even feel bad about it. It was good. NAY, it was spiritually erotic, or erotically spiritually. It was a delight for all the senses. Don't eat any, it will kill you. If you eat a bunch, I won't be able to have any, and I will pants you at lunch.
Try me, jerk-hole.
More Hacks Than The Tacoma Underground
Holy Lumberhacks I have a chest cold that is working me over like Ike on Tina. About 4-6 weeks back it seemed EVERYONE had this cold. It starts in your face and makes your head feel like it's going to pop, but not the fun "One more DayQuil & Cran, bartender!" kind of floaty-head popping. It feels like a quick turn of your head could cause inertia to take over the contents of the nasal passages, and sling it back to the other side while your face collapses. I suggest Claritin, lots of water, and not looking at stuff.
So I get past that part of it, and for 2 days I am golden-retriever healthy. Good color, cold, wet snout, peeing outside, plenty of yard-time. Then it hits me. Last Tuesday night, WHAM, this chest cold lungjacks me and won't leave. It's taken up squatter's rights in my bronchial tubes, and the only way to get it out is through the spasms my lungs are running through. This isn't "tickle in the throat, time for tea and honey!" coughing, this is full-diaphragm, red eye bursting, back cracking, ab-tightening lung assault to break this up. Last night I would sleep for 40 minutes, wake for 20, and cough for 10 of those. I'm surprised I wasn't asked to sleep in my car. Don't think I wasn't gonna volunteer.
My plan of attack for tonight: DayQuil and 1 Tylenol PM, OR, Cherry NyQuil over Godiva Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Chocolate, a.k.a "The AnnaNicole."
The Straight Dope
There is almost no more liberating feeling than realizing and accepting your parents as People, not just Mom & Dad. It makes it much easier to see where they've been in life, how we can affect each other with the smallest gestures of love and kindness, and how much it's gonna suck to put them in Shady Pines Adult Center. That sounds kinda saucy, if you aks me.
Go ahead, aks me…
Geoffers
What UpHomey?
Friday, April 02, 2004
I had a good set last night at Giggles Open Mic. I still think comedy is a joke. I once had grandiose notions of being part of the revolution of comedy. It won't happen. Too many styles fitting too many people's ideas of funny. Comedy reminds me a lot of what it takes to make it in great in the Budoir:
Do what you think is funny.
Something like that.
If you see me on stage and you're offended, I don't care. At least you got the joke. Next we'll work on your definition of "joke."
Take Me Home
Do what you think is funny.
Something like that.
If you see me on stage and you're offended, I don't care. At least you got the joke. Next we'll work on your definition of "joke."
Take Me Home
Creating Memories One Mouse-Click At A Time
I'm at work today. It's gorgeous out, and I'm at work. You, too, are in front of a computer. I don't want to be here. Unless you're tracking al-Quesadilla operatives with your computer, then you should be doing THAT instead of reading this.
So here's what I'm dealin' with today. Got a couple new reports I'm supposed to run for a couple of teams that are spread out all over. These reports reflect how much time it takes teams to accomplish the work they are asked to do. I formulated an equation which I bristle at divulging, but here goes:
TIME = $$$, where $$$ = money.
Keep the time down, keep the cost down, keep the people happy. Long story short, this is not going to amount to a hill of fiddled beans when I'm 50. I know this. This is a job. That's it. Not a spiritual quest. Not a calling. A job. Justification of the ways and the means. I'm doing what I don't want to do. Me and every other person out there is doing it about 40 hours a week. I should be commended for the fact that I don't have a drug problem, neck tattoos, or a Benadryl addiction. I'm a winner, even if I'm working for a Loser.
In the meantime, my company keeps the people down, and the money down. I hope to be on the next train to LayOffBerg. Time will tell. Or is it Money? I better run a report.
Not funny.
Geoff
Take Me Home
I'm at work today. It's gorgeous out, and I'm at work. You, too, are in front of a computer. I don't want to be here. Unless you're tracking al-Quesadilla operatives with your computer, then you should be doing THAT instead of reading this.
So here's what I'm dealin' with today. Got a couple new reports I'm supposed to run for a couple of teams that are spread out all over. These reports reflect how much time it takes teams to accomplish the work they are asked to do. I formulated an equation which I bristle at divulging, but here goes:
TIME = $$$, where $$$ = money.
Keep the time down, keep the cost down, keep the people happy. Long story short, this is not going to amount to a hill of fiddled beans when I'm 50. I know this. This is a job. That's it. Not a spiritual quest. Not a calling. A job. Justification of the ways and the means. I'm doing what I don't want to do. Me and every other person out there is doing it about 40 hours a week. I should be commended for the fact that I don't have a drug problem, neck tattoos, or a Benadryl addiction. I'm a winner, even if I'm working for a Loser.
In the meantime, my company keeps the people down, and the money down. I hope to be on the next train to LayOffBerg. Time will tell. Or is it Money? I better run a report.
Not funny.
Geoff
Take Me Home
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