Bad Day on the High Seas

It's stormy sailin' here on the decks of the SS Desk Job, so no updates today.

The Dead Zone

Every day at work I meet the same events - arrive, get tea, check email, receive/do work, stare at desk, eat. The routine can be somewhat comforting and I'm kept relatively busy after I get to the office. There's usually a little flurry of activity after lunch, too, providing a jolt of reality from midday's brief reprieve.

But it's after this that the worst comes...the dead zone.

I can be plowing through a Herculean amount of work all day, but as soon as the clock hits 3pm, I hit zombie mode - zombie in the classic sense, not the speed-walkers in 28 Days Later. If my day is "Hey Jude", then 3-5pm is the part where they keep singing "naaaa, na na, nana na naaa..." for about 20 minutes. I think that song actually ends on a fade-out, which would complete a nice metaphor.

Me, 11:48am

I'm assuming most other people I work with suffer from the same, crippling malaise. I know Mrs. Wrasslin' agrees. I rarely get much correspondence from anyone past this point and if I do, it has a "we should probably work on this tomorrow" air to it.

But it's a prison more than anything else. Papillon's got nothing on this; Steve McQueen could try his damnedest to float away from Devil's Island, but I'm stuck behind the cruel bars of employment - and I don't even have an ornery Dustin Hoffman to keep me company.

Me, 3:23pm

That's what they should do with our jails - pay the incarcerated to work in an office-jail hybrid, performing menial tasks all day. Try as they might to leave an over-crowded cell block/cubicle, packed to the gills with extras from Oz, they can't resist the pull of that sweet, sweet paycheck. Worse yet, let's give them all desks with slightly uncomfortable chairs. After the clock hits 3, they might as well have life sentences.

Yum Yum Gimme Some

When I got to work today, I assumed that the high point would be the knowledge that the weekend is achingly close. I found myself pleasantly surprised when an early office email revealed that there were free bagels and cream cheese in the kitchen.

There is little so glorious as free office food. Maybe it's just a holdover from my college days, when free food could entice me to any event, regardless of its content. Lecture tonight on bivalve evolution in the lower Mediterranean...accompanied by free hummus dip??? Dinner is served!

Quality of food is irrelevant. One catering company that frequents our office always treats us to a horrendous pasta salad, no doubt left untouched by the brahmans who get first dibs. Hell, I don't even like pasta salad, but it carries with it the taste of illicit freedom. You think Kunta Kinte woulda cared about the selection if he was given catered leftovers?

I actually got nagged at a couple months ago after preying upon a catered event for visiting execs. They looked finished with the meal, so I brought my special tupperware bowl to the steamtrays, scavenging for next day's lunch. Though I'd call my actions appropriate in this economic climate, some VP of an unnecessary department scolded my pre-emptive strike. Tut tut, exec lady...fortune favors the brave!

There's something primal about office-food foraging, mainly the desire to slink back to one's desk and devour your find in private. It's a fiercely competitive world of finder's keeper's and I'll be damned if Judy in finance hears about the chicken marsala before I do.

Besides, sitting at a computer for 8 hours a day has drained what little humanity I have left. Reintegration with the feral population doesn't sound so bad as long as it includes steamed vegetables and a couple sesame rolls.

At Least N'Sync Was Authentically Gay

huh?

I don't know a damn thing about the Jonas Brothers. There shouldn't be much reason for me to know anything about them, but this being the age of hypermedia, I felt socially responsible for learning who they were.

I've discovered that they are far worse than I imagined. A preening group of entitled boys who owe their entire success to the Disney Channel? Surely, my urge to vomit can't stop here.

The "eldest" of the bunch, born after the first Gulf War, got his big break when a producer heard him SINGING IN A BARBERSHOP. What, was McGillicuddy's Soda Shop closed that day?

He went on to sing in several musicals, including the inevitable and distressing cameo as Tiny Tim in a production of A Christmas Carol.

Renee Zellweger called - she wants her squinty, soulless glare back

I guess I'm behind the times on this one, but their biggest claim to fame, aside from the shitty tunes/tv/movies/tours/awards shows/White House appearances (1 - I'll let you guess the president)/interviews, is their vow to chastity. Here's a shocker - would you believe me if I told you they were evangelically homeschooled?

They wear purity rings on their left hands as a sure-fire way to guarantee that their wicks are kept clean until marriage. Evidently the brothers "reportedly started wearing the rings when their parents, Denise and Kevin Sr., asked them if they wanted to." I think they mean, "after their parents discovered they had no penises."

another wholesome group with a happy ending

The good news is that honest working-folk are calling them out on it. Russell Brand, you've earned a pat on the back: "Well done the Jonas Brothers. Each wear a ring to say they are not going to have sex; I'd take them more seriously if they wore it around their genitals."

Keep up the fight.

Wikinsanity!

Only on the internet can the most boring of subjects intently hold my interest.

Enter Wikipedia and its entry on the Times New Roman font.

It's pretty interesting and filled with juicy, obtuse trivia blurbs - the Times of London commissioned the font, thus its name! CRAZY!!!

But more than this, it just goes to prove that the internet is the most awesome thing that has happened on our planet in the post-dinosaur era.

Is there anything lame that it can't make interesting?? The internet's powers are mindblowing. It's like the internet is Patrick Swayze and I'm just a smitten Jennifer Grey, happy to go along with any tune, no matter how cheesy. And Jerry Orbach's eyes look on, disapprovingly...though that might turn out to be creepily true to real life.

Mysterious Dustings

Though I'm usually engaged at a non-stop pace at my job, I often take the time to stare blankly into my desk. I probably adjust half of the items on my desk daily, moving them by an inch or so, making sure they'll look funny to me tomorrow and ensuring that I'll be prompted to adjust them again.

Anyways, the longer I've worked at my job and stared at my desk, the more I've noticed that there is a constant melange of small, fuzzy specks on my workspace. Who knows where they come from, but, more worrying, no matter how many times I wipe my desk, these fuzzies keep reappearing.

It's probably a harbinger of the coming apocalypse or some major event that will make perfect sense once it's all over and done with. Only then will someone tell me that the top warning sign of planet-sized asteroids heading for Earth is the unstoppable accumulation of dust and fibers on my desk. If only I'd known.

Too Late?

What if it's a lifestyle issue? Is this some air pollution/obscure dandruff problem? Maybe I'm naturally polarized, attracting negatively charged cloth particles from around the room. I think Mr. Wizard talked about that once.

My Ears Are Filled With Rage

Finding good music is something I enjoy. Of course, my tastes are different from others and I accept that - up to a certain point.

I was going to work this morning on the train and someone was listening to their mp3 player at a ridiculously high level. I'd like to state for the record that this is not the time to impress your peers on the subway with the volume of your headphones - this is commuting time, I want it to happen quickly and without incident.

Anyways, as invariably happens with people blasting tunes on their headphones, this woman was listening to a BAD SONG. You know the one. Some heavy, alt-metal embarassment to humanity, accompanied by that female vocalist who delicately fawns, "wake me up inside, blah blah..."

What's worse is that this VERY SAME THING HAPPENED LAST WEEK DURING MY COMMUTE. Same song. Same unfortunate decibel level. But not the same person!!

Me, at approximately 8:34 AM today

This means more than one person is listening to that shitshow. And it was a hit, when? Like 3 or 4 years ago?

That it was ever popular is insulting enough. But for people to continue a whole-hearted embrace of the tune makes me want to vomit. Specifically, on them.

I thought Obama was going to change all this. What a horrible president.