Longest. Day. Ever.

So, in order to make up time from coming in late yesterday, I have to skip my lunch hour today. This makes the work day last for maybe two years. Right now it's February, Year One. I hate these multi-year work weeks. The sad thing is, even if I had a lunch break, I'd probably just spend it reading in the car. Or napping in the car. Or primping in the car. Or, all of the above. My Own Private Nova. My sad little personal pod on wheels. It's not my living room, but it's, pathetically, the closest I can get to home without actually going anywhere.

The whole lunch-break-in-the-car thing is new to me, but lots of people here do it, I've noticed. When I walk through the parking lot at lunch time, tons of people are just sitting in there cars, many of them not doing anything. Just sitting. What does that say about this office? It has a severe lack of privacy (physical and mental), for one thing. These short cube walls make it impossible to do anything without 20 people being able to watch, which I guess is the idea.

Milton is doing the mumbling/deep sigh thing again. Goddamn it's annoying. If he's getting up to put the Parker file away, he'll stand up and say "Okay! sigh. Parrkeeeer. SIGH" And then he sits down. Maybe he needs to take some time and go sit in his car.

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Music as torture.

The piped-in music is currently playing this horrible, ice-pick-to-the-brain instrumental piece, that, incidentally, is used in my least-favorite local commercial for Bob Cole Hair Design*. I especially hate this commercial because it's shown 800 times during each and every Buffy re-run on FX. The commercial itself is mostly harmless (except for the women heard screeching "THAAAANKS, BOB!" in unison at the end). The song, though, is another matter. It gets in my head and makes me want to break stuff. Specifically, it makes me want to break Bob Cole's stuff.

The Bob Cole website is particularly amusing. He sure likes himself! His website refer to the commercial as "great" and "charming". Uh huh. His bio is full of back-patting:

"This passion for design and his desire to provide the client with a satisfying result which is perfectly suited for their hair, is what makes Bob Cole such a fabulous talent."

And gems like this:

"Bob works exclusively with women. He strives for the highest level of artistic quality, incorporating his unique techniques and sophisticated coloring effects, and subsequently, this eliminates children and men."

HA! Hahahhaaha! What?

If you hate yourself, you can watch the "charming" commercial.

Thaaaaanks, BOB!

*Keep in mind, I've never actually been to Bob Cole Hair Design, so he might very well be super-dandy with the scissors. I just hate his commercial. A lot.

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(Good news! The day is progressing and it's now January of Year Two.)

Make up your own dirty slang!

This conversation heart (which I posted on Friday) led to the following email exchange between me and Noah:

N: What does "cube farm" mean? I am not down with the hip new lingo you kids use today.

A: Cube farm = where I work. Cubes as far as the eye can see!

N: Ah I thought it was something dirty!

A: You would. Hey, maybe you should make something up? Tell everyone stuff like "Yeah, I dated that one girl, but she wanted to cube farm and I'm just not down with that".

Noah: Are you kidding me I'd have totally cube farmed HER if I could figure out how to do it!

Hee. I imagine sexual cube farming to be so dirty it would make me blush. Now if I could just decide what it is.

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Random Buffy comments

Buffy last night was great, (but I pretty much always think that. I'm easily entertained). All kinds of craziness with the creators of the first slayer and all kinds of angry competitive tension between the Principal Wood and Spike. And hey, what's with Spike asking Anya out? Hilarious. Oh, and that last crazy scene? Damn. I mean, damn. Is this going to be the last season of Buffy? It's beginning to look that way.

In the "I'm a dork" category, I must admit to being very pleased with Wood's use of "chucklehead" to describe the delinquents in his office. It's one of my favorite idiot frat boy descriptors.

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Here's a nifty Slang Generator

Marlys can't put her arms down.

Shelleyness has brought back a couple of her best archived entries. One is the Chaps Man entry, the other is the complete story of her sweet Pigpigpig.

PS. to my friends, if you know someone who might like to read my random thoughts, please feel free to pass along the URL. (Just make sure they don't work at Bank of X first.)

Hey, it's August, Year Two!

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