|24 April 2002
I'll weblog today, 'cause it's popular with the kids. Besides, it's not like I'm going to do any work, is it?
Siobhan is so sweet, y'all. She's been working on a bag for Sonya, and it came in the mail yesterday. With it were six bagels from the good bagel place in the Village. She brought a whole bagful of them when she was in town for Labor Day, and they were so fucking good. Now I've got more of them to eat! Real live New York bagels! I had one for breakfast this morning.
I'm drinking coffee from the office coffee pot today. I'm not a part of the coffee club, and I didn't pay a quarter for the cup of coffee. Yeah, I stole the coffee. What are they gonna do, fire me?
I just made the day's first trip to the bathroom. It's still early, so the men's room wasn't too foul, but it will get bad later. It's like having a filthy Texaco men's room right here in my office building!
Someone had left a piece of today's newspaper hanging over the handicapped rail, so I checked it out. Fats Domino is playing at Jazz Fest today, and that should be pretty good, huh? I hear he always plays a good set when he has a gig in New Orleans.
From "I, Anonymous" in The Stranger:
"To my girlfriend's stupid, lazy, deadbeat brother: I am pleased to announce that because you are too cheap to spend $3 on a bag of your own disposable razors, you have been shaving your face with the razor I use exclusively on my nut sack and twain for the last two months."
Just made the second trip to the bathroom today. My pee smelled strongly of coffee. But I had a cup of coffee this morning, so I guess that's not crazy.
Let's look at the top ten on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, shall we?
A tasty lunch with Coworkers Ann and Mark. They paid because, as I keep telling them, "I won't have a job soon!" I'm milking this thing for all it's worth. We had Cici's. A cheap pizza buffet - you can't beat that.
And there was this guy at Cici's. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and he had the hairiest arms I'd ever seen.
"That's H.A. Boudreaux," I told Mark and Ann, "and the H.A. stands for Hairy Arms."
Hey, how 'bout that. Carlene linked to me last night. Apparently I (or the bathroom vigilante I work with) entertained her. Carlene always has good stuff on her site, even though I've been slow to look at it at work what with that big sexy shoe loading at the top of the page. Not any more, though.
"What ya lookin' at there, Harold? Shoe porn?"
"Yeah, shoe porn."
You read Television Without Pity, right? That's what I'm doing right now. It's indispensable if you miss an episode of one of the shows they recap, and it's far more entertaining than actually watching Trading Spaces.
So I've got the phone interview tomorrow, right? You know, it's been a long time since I had an interview for a job I was actively seeking out. For the job I've got now I had two brief phone interviews and I was in - and I still had a job at the time. I'd applied for it for the hell of it - I certainly didn't think I'd actually get a job in New Orleans. For the job before that (at Concord EFS, home of the three hour lunch and basically no work for five months) I had an "interview," but it was really just a thirty minute pitch from the VP who eventually hired me. He really, really wanted me to come work for him.
The last real interview I had was at MLGW, with an HR person, the potential immediate supervisor and her immediate supervisor firing questions at me for the better part of an hour. I did good, too. I said to Sonya afterwards, "they may not hire me, but that was the best interview I've ever had."
But in all those situations I already had a job. So not only have I not had a for-real interview in five years, I'm also a little worried about coming across as too desperate for the job. I must play it cool.
I've been running around playing officeball. To play this game you need:
Ideally, the coworker throws the ball and you get to swing at it with the mailing tube, a la baseball. Points are awarded for distance and getting the ball into odd and difficult places. Extra points are awarded for catching the ball in the mailing tube, though that is not always possible. After three misses ("strikes") hitter and thrower change positions.
If you can't find a willing coworker, you can just toss the ball in the air and smack the shit out of it. If you hit it a long way you can then whistle the light-smashing theme from The Natural and run around with your fists in the air.
The first stall in the men's room is running ominously short of toilet paper. I admit to my share of responsibility for this.
Some coworkers are talking some hardcore jargon, so I sent them this e-mail:
I overheard you two talking just now, and I canít help but comment on how much you both suck.
Those Yahoo! Games are a lot of fun to play - especially Cubis. Hours of addiction, dude.