I blanked on the word "rice" today. Restaurant. Lunch. Pass the. The. The. THAT. Rice, Ben? Rice? Yes, the rice. One more minor humilation to add to the list of things I'm never going to live down.
We got out to the beach today and played Frisbee. It was right after lunch and we were all tired, so it was kind of like a bunch of beached whales playing Frisbee. I tried to play sitting down. It worked when Astrid was throwing, and sometimes Doug, but I couldn't throw to save my life seated. Astrid had four rum-and-cokes last night, and I'm a bit more willing to believe she might be the same one after all, but I think it would have taken at least two or three more at the party. I checked with Doug after they left for Sacramento and we officially Approve. Guys do this too, where we look out for our friends and it's not even totally based on the friend's prospective gf's rating as a potential piece of ass. Although that does enter into it. I think the difference is that we don't actually talk to the friend in question about it. We just go around going, "That Astrid, I think she's good for Vinod." "Yup." That basically settles it, and then we microwave the leftovers and fire up International Play Station Rupert and kick the virtual crap out of each other.
Good weekend. Having guests gets me off my ass and lets me forget about the rest of my existence for a while.
I did it! An entire mini-box of Sun-Maid raisins in with the coffee grounds in the machine! And then he came over a few minutes ago to talk about the October targets, and he was sipping from his mug of raisin-coffee the entire time.
It was so hard to keep from laughing every time he took a sip.
"Scoop hosts will also make waffle cones," which sounds okay, but the "with a smile" part in "serve our guests with a smile" might be tough. I mean, how pathetic is this, I'm not even qualified to be a tour guide, because that would involve "excellent communication and customer service skills" which are exactly the two things I got blasted on for my review last month.
Well, okay, there were other things I got blasted on, too, like "positive attitude" and "slovenliness" and "contagious grouchiness." Even the fucking Ben and Jerry's groundskeepers need to be "strong team players." Ha ha ha. And then there are all those jobs I didn't even look at the descriptions for, like "Franchised Licensing Manager" and "Project/Process Engineer" and "Maintenance Team Member II -- 1st shift."
I didn't want to move to Vermont, anyway.
I'm checking the coffee machine before I do, though. just in case Mr. Boss Man is out for revenge
Nah, maybe next year.
I swear my heart stopped for a few seconds. Pure animal terror.
Just a telemarketer, though. Preselected to win an all-expenses paid vacation to Reno if I buy a place in a retirement community. Hello, Ben, another birthday coming up, are you feeling about ready to kick the bucket yet? It would be real nice to be retired, though.
If I had more energy, I'd start some kind of political party. We'd have a "screw the old people" platform. We young people keep getting kicked around by the geezers because they vote and we don't. So they do things like robbing Social Security and sticking us with the bill, and it's so totally obvious that we're completely fucked over no matter what we do, which is why we don't vote. But I figure if it were enough pure anger we could make it work. It'd have to be really simple and really almost fun to be part of. Sort of like going out and smashing up stuff, only legitimate, and in some sort of good cause. And without the violence.
Snemfh. I'm too lazy to be an activist, and nobody would take me seriously if I tried to be a demagogue. Maybe I could get Vinod or Gary Pollus or Karin Royce or someone charismatic like that to be the figurehead, and then if I could find someone to do all the work, we'd be all set.
The phone! The phone! Why am I incapable of putting together two sentences in a logical order? The phone! That was terrifying, and it was just a mannerism that there must be millions of people who have it. Why are there still things like that out there? This guy I know was telling me there are villages in Eastern Europe where you can buy a house for fifty dollars, because it's three hours from a bus stop, without roads, but mostly because the whole valley is still filled with land mines and all sorts of leftover shells that didn't blow up when they were supposed, so you have to stay exactly on the path from your house to the well, and even then if you're not paying attention, maybe one day, boom! That's what it's like, and the telemarketer was just a dud, but it's like there are certain places you just don't go, like I don't go bowling any more (ouch, ouch, wince, hurts to type that), or, well . . . . boom.
Yeah, and if I were retired and going senile, then maybe there wouldn't be all these land mines to worry about because I'd have forgotten more.
I think I like vanilla the best. It's simple and honest. You know what you're getting. Never really liked chocolate shakes, even though I like chocolate just fine. I'd rather have the shake and the chocolate that went into it separately. Strawberry is okay. Apple cinammon is heresy. I had one once. Never again.
Did you ever ask for a milkshake and get back a glass of milk with a bit of froth because they shook the carton? Well, then you grew up without older siblings.
Fine, so did I, but my cousin played that role for me. And he gave me maybe a dozen or so of them over the years. I swear, I was a dumb kid, I didn't catch on very quickly. But it was kind of fun even after I figured out that he was a sadistic bastard out to get me. Kind of a game we'd play, you want a milkshake, yeah yeah yeah, here ya go, big fake frown of sadness and that little kid quivering lip. Once, I forgot to put the milk down before we started fighting. Then usually we'd go set off these homemade explosives he made in his parents' basement.
Ha ha carefree childhood days.
If I ever have kids, I'm going to figure out who I know who's likely to try and play that role for them. And then I'm going to have that person deported. There are some things you've gotta do yourself.
It would be really cool to stand on one and have flames coming out from where the drawers are, and to surf around the office on a rocket-powered filing-cabinet sled. The only problem is that every time I think about it, it looks a bit like the poster from the Carrot Top movie.
Hmmm. Stay late and go chair jousting, or go home?
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday dear meeeeeeee.
Happy Birthday to me.
Please leave all presents at the postern gate with the sergeant of the watch.
We're being clobbered by a virus right now because some unnamed idiots have been opening attachments from people they've never heard of saying "MAKE $$$ nOW." No, they're named idiots, back when my inbox would still open, I got to see the name of every idiot who did it. Some of them even did it three or four tmes.
Morons here, morons at Microsoft for writing such crappy software, morons who think its funny to write viruses. Morons to the left of me, morons to the right.
At least now that all the servers are down, there's nothing work-like I'm capable of doing right now.
Thank you, morons.
Oh, so bored. Ever so bored.
Missing my cartoons for that was so not worth it.
It wasn't bad itself, even with the whole "happy birthday" thing and this head-being-eaten-by-flesh-dissolving-bacteria thing. Evil-tempered flesh-dissolving bacteria. But I lost my cartoons too. Wah.
Explain, Ben, explain!
I had dinner with Doug, Roger, and TJ. Neither of whom, I should add, work with me any more. Nothing fancy. Just an excuse to do something, but not a big something. Then we hung out in a sports bar and drank. Same general deal. It was all shiny and clean and all wrong, but we couldn't find the right kind of sports bar once we thought about it. All totally fine. Low expectation birthday.
Somehow, Doug convinced everyone sitting at the bar to sing me happy birthday. Iwk. All these guys who were soft and paunchy and flabby after years of Homer Simpson food, but all toughened and hardened by life on the inside. It was kind of scary actually. I think it helped that I was drunk and they were too. And then some more rounds and the Mother of All Headaches this morning. Early afternoon was me against every single individual photon in my room. They won.
That should have been my Tivo entry. I need a Tivo so I can get smashed on Friday night and still watch my Saturday morning carnoons. I think the contrast might have amused them. Especially if I tried to make it seem like I was twelve.
Roger sort of apologized to me for the things he said when I was interviwing for the job, like misleading me into thinking that he liked it. I guess I should apologize to the new guy too, if he comes, since he'll be the new Roger, by this whole symmetry thing. Jeez, we've been looking for a new Roger since July. I guess this also means I'm going to quit in Febuary. I told him and TJ about the virus and they laughed and laughed. Same thing happened back in March, and nobody learned anything from it, not even Mr. Boss Man who had to have his entire inbox wiped clean. And who opened this new one not once, not twice, but three times, and sent angry mail to the whole division saying it wasn't funny to forward these things around.
Happy unbirthday to me.