Ok, so as you are already aware, I spend entirely too much time surfing yahoo and google for useless news stories during the workday. Anyway, read this first:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20070502/wl_uk_afp/britainsingapore_070502101857
Ok, so most would react to this by thinking, gee, some of us need to slow down in life, take a breather, what's the big hurry? WRONG.
Maybe it's the competitive side of me talking, but....COME ON NEW YORKERS, PICK UP THE FRIGGIN PACE. What I want to know is how a place like Madrid (wonderful city don't get me wrong, I spent 6 months there) whose productivity rate can be likened to that of a stoned ADDer missing his meds, can blow us all out of the water. And perhaps my feelings in this regard are also slightly self-interested because I'm sick of walking behind people all day that feel it's acceptable to practically get down on all fours and crawl to work.
Ok, so maybe I exaggerate, and it's pretty much safe to say that my perception is skewed as I don't exactly "walk" to work - I more compete in the Olympic one-mile dash to work. This might explain why subsequent to completion of my morning "walk" through the city, I:
a) Want to keel over and die
b) Have broken a sweat and need to re-apply travel-size deodorant included in bag for this very reason (pleasant, yes I know)
c) Have the nagging urge to check my watch for the final time clocked
I know I know. Why would I want to run like a maniac to work, a place to which I dread going every day? But this is not the point. I don't care where I'm going every morning, or where you're going, but no matter what, I know that I have to beat you there.
You others might not be aware that by embarking on a journey through the city streets each morning that you are also unknowlingly signing up for a highly competitive road race against the rest of us, but it's the truth whether you like it or not. If you choose to forfeit entry and not to participate, then you run the risk of being characterized by others that encounter you as one of those foreign creatures that tends to walk at a pace 1/10th the average rate, has the frequent urge to pull out a camera and photograph anything from McDonald's signs in Time Square to the "air" in general, tends to sport a fanny pack, and is likely to elect Olive Garden or TGIFridays as an acceptable place to eat in a city of about 915028190 restaurants....otherwise known as the dreaded New York City "tourist".
With such considerations in mind, if you are a commuter or New Yorker, you may just want to strap on those running shoes and take part in that morning race afterall. And plus, myself and my few other crazy friends are getting sick of trying to hold up New York's speedwalking average rate on our own.
So come on New Yorkers and commuters, pick up the freaking pace already, before our average starts dipping to dangerously low Midwestern levels.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
I'm an incredibly positive and non-sarcastic person
Ok this is going to be really hard, but I'm going to try to write something positive that doesn't make people want to jump off of the Empire State Building after reading.
Hmmm....and I'm blanking, so I'm just going to make fun of people instead.
So I know I'm breaking the cardinal rule that forbids talking about work on the Blog, but I feel as though it would be a crime if I didn't share with you all some details about a few of the characters I've encountered at work...
1) BB
BB, otherwise known as "British Bitch," sports a boy hairdo and utters highly audible atrocious things daily in a thick British accent. She has been spotted verbally abusing her child over the phone, making her subordinates cry and hide under desks, and attacking co-workers on their choices of lunch foods in the company cafeteria.
2) SM
SM, otherwise known as "small midget" (yes I'm aware there is a redundancy there but both words are needed for emphasis), has an obviously short stature but nonetheless makes her presence known by yelling outrageous things to any that might cross her path. She is often accompanied by BB and is feared by many.
I've also encountered the following:
1) Attorney who puts on fake southern accent when speaking with her one imaginary client on the phone
2) Secretary who sprints 100 meter dashes across office floor to greet clients at the door
3) Male administrative assistant known to tell numerous pathological lies, but fear not, he does not fit into the PL asshole category.
I'm going to stop now. If you would like further details, I can provide them via private email. Or you can just wait to see them in the reality show that premieres, which will blow "The Office" out of the water.
Hmmm....and I'm blanking, so I'm just going to make fun of people instead.
So I know I'm breaking the cardinal rule that forbids talking about work on the Blog, but I feel as though it would be a crime if I didn't share with you all some details about a few of the characters I've encountered at work...
1) BB
BB, otherwise known as "British Bitch," sports a boy hairdo and utters highly audible atrocious things daily in a thick British accent. She has been spotted verbally abusing her child over the phone, making her subordinates cry and hide under desks, and attacking co-workers on their choices of lunch foods in the company cafeteria.
2) SM
SM, otherwise known as "small midget" (yes I'm aware there is a redundancy there but both words are needed for emphasis), has an obviously short stature but nonetheless makes her presence known by yelling outrageous things to any that might cross her path. She is often accompanied by BB and is feared by many.
I've also encountered the following:
1) Attorney who puts on fake southern accent when speaking with her one imaginary client on the phone
2) Secretary who sprints 100 meter dashes across office floor to greet clients at the door
3) Male administrative assistant known to tell numerous pathological lies, but fear not, he does not fit into the PL asshole category.
I'm going to stop now. If you would like further details, I can provide them via private email. Or you can just wait to see them in the reality show that premieres, which will blow "The Office" out of the water.
blatant avoidance tactic
I'm on my third pen today and it's not even lunch.
Just like socks in the drier... except not. I am solely responsible for each tragic loss to the Bic generation. There is no sock monster or fourth dimension into which they paradoxically slip-- the pens anyway. I am fairly sure that sock monsters DO exist.
All this means is that I AM dumb. And needlessly frantic. I think I'd rather not write another thing all day than give myself the satisfaction of breaking in a new pen. (weird sense of masochism)
now, WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY SUNGLASSES
Just like socks in the drier... except not. I am solely responsible for each tragic loss to the Bic generation. There is no sock monster or fourth dimension into which they paradoxically slip-- the pens anyway. I am fairly sure that sock monsters DO exist.
All this means is that I AM dumb. And needlessly frantic. I think I'd rather not write another thing all day than give myself the satisfaction of breaking in a new pen. (weird sense of masochism)
now, WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY SUNGLASSES
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Guess my mood; Win a prize for the lady...
Apparently, I am bipolar. Or something of the psychologically unstable persuasion.
I like to think of myself as a relatively laid back, even-keeled sort of gal, however i seem to be failing miserably at having others think this. In the past hour I've been told first that today I am in a good mood only minutes later to be asked if everything was ok because I sounded 'down' over the phone.
Ok, first of all... why people feel it is necessary to comment to me on my own mood is a bit confusing and why they keep a running tab of said mood is just bewildering??? Really? Why? What do you care? and how do you suppose to know this?? How much can you surmise from "Hello". I don't mean to say it differently-- can you really sense tears or anger or ecstasy in two syllables??
Really???
This is not only today, but rather a common occurence. In fact, yesterday I was compared to Droopy (yeah the cartoon bassett hound who says everything is fine but sounds miserable). Or last week when my boss was out and I communicated online with him-- "You seem in a good mood, maybe I should not come back to the office" (to which I nearly screamed and cried! That's not even FUNNY, Loic). I did not know a voice, or instant messaging, could convey such emotion. The enormous bags under my eyes I think would be slightly more telling... YES I have been working 12 hour days. I AM miserable but how do you know?? ARE YOU PSYCHIC. It just makes me suspicious.
I think the only answer is voice hamogination skills. I dont like these people "knowing" I am going to act happy when I am sad and sad when I am happy or maybe angry when I am happy (there are a lot of different options). Anything to throw them off the scent.......
I like to think of myself as a relatively laid back, even-keeled sort of gal, however i seem to be failing miserably at having others think this. In the past hour I've been told first that today I am in a good mood only minutes later to be asked if everything was ok because I sounded 'down' over the phone.
Ok, first of all... why people feel it is necessary to comment to me on my own mood is a bit confusing and why they keep a running tab of said mood is just bewildering??? Really? Why? What do you care? and how do you suppose to know this?? How much can you surmise from "Hello". I don't mean to say it differently-- can you really sense tears or anger or ecstasy in two syllables??
Really???
This is not only today, but rather a common occurence. In fact, yesterday I was compared to Droopy (yeah the cartoon bassett hound who says everything is fine but sounds miserable). Or last week when my boss was out and I communicated online with him-- "You seem in a good mood, maybe I should not come back to the office" (to which I nearly screamed and cried! That's not even FUNNY, Loic). I did not know a voice, or instant messaging, could convey such emotion. The enormous bags under my eyes I think would be slightly more telling... YES I have been working 12 hour days. I AM miserable but how do you know?? ARE YOU PSYCHIC. It just makes me suspicious.
I think the only answer is voice hamogination skills. I dont like these people "knowing" I am going to act happy when I am sad and sad when I am happy or maybe angry when I am happy (there are a lot of different options). Anything to throw them off the scent.......
Text Messaging
Ok, so yes I've been surfing the web all morning instead of doing work and I came across this. Please read it:
http://www.cnn.com/2007/TECH/ptech/04/22/top.texter.ap/index.html
Ok now that you're back, I hope you are all as appalled as I am. Oh wait I'm sorry, let me pat you on the back little 13 year old girl for spending your life texting and running up a nice little bill for mommy and daddy. Thank goodness we have the text messaging function at our disposal in life so you were able to send out 90358901 text messages along the lines of "BFF 4-ever!" to your friends sitting next to you in class, or else they wouldn't have received the message.
Ok fine, I'll admit it, I've had like 3 hour long conversations with close friends via text message, and it hasn't crossed my mind even once during that time to maybe pick up the phone and call. Perhaps I enjoy the anticipation of hearing that little "beep beep." Or perhaps I am just a social outcast who enjoys as little social interaction as possible (hence my addiction to text messaging's close cousins, AIM and gmail). Either way, I know I can't bash it completely because I enjoy that it grants me the ability to do the following (gosh I sure do make a lot of lists in life):
1) Avoid people
2) Annoy people
3) Talk about people right in front of them
4) Make obscene comments unsuitable for verbal sharing
Since I cannot let go of any of these benefits, I will have to endorse text messaging as a necessity in life, despite the fact that it allows 13 year olds to win $25000 all of which they will blow at the Limited Too and the fact that we may all develop chronic thumb problems in a few years.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/TECH/ptech/04/22/top.texter.ap/index.html
Ok now that you're back, I hope you are all as appalled as I am. Oh wait I'm sorry, let me pat you on the back little 13 year old girl for spending your life texting and running up a nice little bill for mommy and daddy. Thank goodness we have the text messaging function at our disposal in life so you were able to send out 90358901 text messages along the lines of "BFF 4-ever!" to your friends sitting next to you in class, or else they wouldn't have received the message.
Ok fine, I'll admit it, I've had like 3 hour long conversations with close friends via text message, and it hasn't crossed my mind even once during that time to maybe pick up the phone and call. Perhaps I enjoy the anticipation of hearing that little "beep beep." Or perhaps I am just a social outcast who enjoys as little social interaction as possible (hence my addiction to text messaging's close cousins, AIM and gmail). Either way, I know I can't bash it completely because I enjoy that it grants me the ability to do the following (gosh I sure do make a lot of lists in life):
1) Avoid people
2) Annoy people
3) Talk about people right in front of them
4) Make obscene comments unsuitable for verbal sharing
Since I cannot let go of any of these benefits, I will have to endorse text messaging as a necessity in life, despite the fact that it allows 13 year olds to win $25000 all of which they will blow at the Limited Too and the fact that we may all develop chronic thumb problems in a few years.
It's the little things in life, really
One of the fundamental differences between Charlottesville and NYC, I think, is that the Starbucks is a 5-minute walk away instead of having 3 or 4 (or 12) within eyesight. Being the lazy person that I am, I opt to buy my morning coffee at the Higher Grounds conveniently located inside my building instead of trekking to Starbucks.
As I was waiting for my latte this morning I absentmindedly stared at their list of flavored drinks, each with its own special name. These were four of the options:
Nuthugger
Black Love
Mother's Milk
Mounds (my personal favorite)
Did they do this intentionally, or do I have serious mind-in-gutter issues?
As I was waiting for my latte this morning I absentmindedly stared at their list of flavored drinks, each with its own special name. These were four of the options:
Nuthugger
Black Love
Mother's Milk
Mounds (my personal favorite)
Did they do this intentionally, or do I have serious mind-in-gutter issues?
Monday, April 23, 2007
i need pills
picture this, if you will:
a beautiful, sunny day in new york city. employed manhattanites are sitting on the citigroup steps with their co-workers and consuming a delightful assortment of foods--sandwiches, soup, shredded lamb--oh my! a bubbling fountain glistens in the background. work is temporarily forgotten as the occupants of the aforemented steps take dainty bites of their respective lunches and wave at friends passing by. the men are utilizing their precious lunch hour to discuss friendly, masculine, non-work related topics like the yankees, armani suits, and the crazy bitches who were shouting V-A-G through the streets of the meatpacking district on friday night. the ladies are sitting crosslegged on the same steps, their legs dangling childishly, commenting on the outfits and general appearances of other women. all of these men and women are wearing black business suits, though many a collar is loosened and many a sleeve rolled up.
in the background, blurred behind a sea of black and white suits from saks, two young women are sprinting through the citigroup fountain barefoot. they are wearing bright, colorful skirts, one of which could be considered "a bit too short" for the work environment. one by one, each citigroup head turns to cast a look of disgust at these young women, all of them thinking one of three things:
1. were those the v-a-g girls from friday?
2. they are going to contract some form of foot fungus, hepatitis, or step on a saringe that was cast into the fountain by a disgruntled homeless person.
3. they have a mentally degenerative disease. perhaps not dementia or down syndrome, but something along the lines of a forest gump or gilbert grape-like malfunction.
i no longer experience the emotion of embarrassment. it is liberating.
a beautiful, sunny day in new york city. employed manhattanites are sitting on the citigroup steps with their co-workers and consuming a delightful assortment of foods--sandwiches, soup, shredded lamb--oh my! a bubbling fountain glistens in the background. work is temporarily forgotten as the occupants of the aforemented steps take dainty bites of their respective lunches and wave at friends passing by. the men are utilizing their precious lunch hour to discuss friendly, masculine, non-work related topics like the yankees, armani suits, and the crazy bitches who were shouting V-A-G through the streets of the meatpacking district on friday night. the ladies are sitting crosslegged on the same steps, their legs dangling childishly, commenting on the outfits and general appearances of other women. all of these men and women are wearing black business suits, though many a collar is loosened and many a sleeve rolled up.
in the background, blurred behind a sea of black and white suits from saks, two young women are sprinting through the citigroup fountain barefoot. they are wearing bright, colorful skirts, one of which could be considered "a bit too short" for the work environment. one by one, each citigroup head turns to cast a look of disgust at these young women, all of them thinking one of three things:
1. were those the v-a-g girls from friday?
2. they are going to contract some form of foot fungus, hepatitis, or step on a saringe that was cast into the fountain by a disgruntled homeless person.
3. they have a mentally degenerative disease. perhaps not dementia or down syndrome, but something along the lines of a forest gump or gilbert grape-like malfunction.
i no longer experience the emotion of embarrassment. it is liberating.
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