I’m A Professional.

So, I have a job that pays me moneys. In fact, and I know this is going to be almost impossible to believe, I am the boss of people. The boss of people.

Let that sink in.

On a recent conference call, I had a client say this:

“It’s like this, our platform is pushing into Facebook from behind and then their platform is pulling out on top of Facebook.”

And then I had to mute the line because I was laughing so hard.

I am a professional who is the boss of people. But, I’m still me.

 

What’s The Protocol For This?

Cat Fart

Picture it: You’re sitting in a moderately full meeting room in the middle of a very long and discussion heavy meeting. Every one in that room needs to be there. The man sitting next to you (a man in a very prominent position) is passing gas like it is going to produce vast amounts of money. His flatulence smells like what you image zombie’s decaying flesh to smell like only slightly more hellacious. What do you do?

I’ll tell you what I did. I sat through that entire 3 hour meeting and didn’t say a thing even though I was almost gagging by the end of it. It was one of the most uncomfortable things I’ve ever had to sit through. Usually, when someone is farting up a storm, you can leave the room or roll down a window or something, but when you’re in a meeting? What’s a girl with a very strong sense of smell to do?  I mean, he should have excused himself, right? Or should I have offered him some pepto bismol and acknowledged his nasty farting problem? Listen, everyone farts, even Oprah, and that doesn’t really bother me but if you’re passing the silent but deadly variety in a closed space, I think you should at least try everything you can to remedy the problem. I realize calling attention to it would have embarrassed him, which is why I didn’t say anything, but it seems like there should have been some solution other than me choking on his fart smell.

I don’t know. You guys tell me, what’s the protocol on something like this?

I’m Probably Going To Get A Promotion.

Thumbs Up

I had a smashing day at work yesterday. Literally. I actually got smashed by the front door of the office. It was a very proud moment for me. I mean, I wasn’t even trying to get smashed- it was like fate knew how incredibly stellar I would look to everyone at the front desk when I couldn’t even manage to get through the front door without making a fool of myself- so fate took over and made the wind blow really hard just as I was about to step through the door and the door just couldn’t resist the wind so it slammed shut and wedged me between the door and the door jam. And of course, to make me look extra super good, fate made the wind continue to blow so I had a very difficult time pushing the door off of me and just sort of wiggled around until I finally managed to free myself. Classic. So incredibly proud of how professional and competent I looked.

Oh, but wait. Fate wasn’t done making me look incredibly awesome.

I  ran into the CEO of my client’s company in the kitchen while I was making tea. He started chatting with me and asking me about some new programs. I was so distracted I filled my cup too full and then twisted the lid on. Scalding water started pouring out of one side of the cup, down my hand and arm, and on my shirt. Hoping to play it off I just twisted the cup a bit so that the side that wasn’t spilling was facing him and just acted like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Sure, it burned. It burned badly, but did I let a little thing like burning skin stop me from finishing my conversation with my client? No way. I’m a professional. And sure, on retrospect, I realize he probably  knew I was spilling hot tea all over myself, but I can’t help but think he was mighty impressed with how I didn’t let that distract me from the conversation. Or you know, maybe he just thinks I’m a spaz.

Thank you fate/bad luck/bad juju/whatever the kids are calling you these days. You really helped me look competent to hold employment between the getting stuck in the door incident and the scalding hot tea spilling incident. Quality work, my friend. I’m probably going to get a promotion.

(This is when I need a sarcasm tag)

The Plague Didn’t Kill Me So Now My Job Is Trying To

I think that my job and the plague are in cahoots with one another. The plague didn’t manage to kill me and so now it’s my job’s turn to try. I wonder what I did to make them so angry? I bet this is some sort of mob thing that I accidently stumbled upon and didn’t know it. So, I’m going into hiding for the next week. And by hiding I mean I will be working obscenely long days and won’t have the energy to blog. But not even the mob can keep me away too much, so I will be entertaining you over the next week with things I like to waste my time doing on the internet.  For today, please enjoy these Jack Handey quotes.

Jack Handy Quotes

If they ever come up with a swashbuckling School, I think one of the courses should be Laughing, Then Jumping Off Something.

When you’re riding in a time machine way far into the future, don’t stick your elbow out the window, or it’ll turn into a fossil.

It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.

At first I thought, if I were Superman, a perfect secret identity would be “Clark Kent, Dentist,” because you could save money on tooth X-rays. But then I thought, if a patient said, “How’s my back tooth?” and you just looked at it with your X-ray vision and said, “Oh it’s okay,” then the patient would probably say, “Aren’t you going to take an X-ray, stupid?” and you’d say, “Aw fuck you, get outta here,” and then he probably wouldn’t even pay his bill.

One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. “Oh, no,” I said. “Disneyland burned down.” He cried and cried, but I think that deep down, he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.

A good way to threaten somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call the guy and hold the burning fuse up to the phone. “Hear that?” you say. “That’s dynamite, baby.”

Why do people in ship mutinies always ask for “better treatment”? I’d ask for a pinball machine, because with all that rocking back and forth you’d probably be able to get a lot of free games.

I’d like to be buried Indian-style, where they put you up on a high rack, above the ground. That way, you could get hit by meteorites and not even feel it.

If I lived back in the wild west days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I’d carry a soldering iron. That way, if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like “Hey, look. He’s carrying a soldering iron!” and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, “That’s right, it’s a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice.” Then everybody would get real quiet and ashamed, because they had made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink.

I bet when the neanderthal kids would make a snowman, someone would always end up saying, “Don’t forget the thick, heavy brows.” Then they would all get embarrassed because they remembered they had the big hunky brows too, and they’d get mad and eat the snowman.

Fear can sometimes be a useful emotion. For instance, let’s say you’re an astronaught on the moon and you fear that your partner has been turned into Dracula. The next time he goes out for the moon pieces, wham!, you just slam the door behind him and blast off. He might call you on the radio and say he’s not Dracula, but you just say, “Think again, bat man.”

Too bad you can’t buy a voodoo globe so that you could make the earth spin real fast and freak everybody out.

The people in the village were real poor, so none of the children had any toys. But this one little boy had gotten an old enema bag and filled it with rocks, and he would go around and whap the other children across the face with it. Man, I think my heart almost broke. Later the boy came up and offered to give me the toy. This was too much! I reached out my hand, but then he ran away. I chased him down and took the enema bag. He cried a little, but that’s the way of these people.

I wish I had a Kryptonite cross, because then you could keep both Dracula AND Superman away.

I don’t think I’m alone when I say I’d like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system.

Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.

Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself: “Mankind”. Basically, it’s made up of two separate words – “mank” and “ind”. What do these words mean ? It’s a mystery, and that’s why so is mankind.

I hope if dogs ever take over the world, and they chose a king, they don’t just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas.

I guess we were all guilty, in a way. We all shot him, we all skinned him, and we all got a complimentary bumper sticker that said, “I helped skin Bob.”

I bet the main reason the police keep people away from a plane crash is they don’t want anybody walking in and lying down in the crash stuff, then, when somebody comes up, act like they just woke up and go, “What was THAT?!”

The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face.

Ambition is like a frog sitting on a Venus Flytrap. The flytrap can bite and bite, but it won’t bother the frog because it only has little tiny plant teeth. But some other stuff could happen and it could be like ambition.

I’d rather be rich than stupid.

If you were a poor Indian with no weapons, and a bunch of conquistadors came up to you and asked where the gold was, I don’t think it would be a good idea to say, “I swallowed it. So sue me.”

If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr. Brave man, I guess I’m a coward.

I bet one legend that keeps recurring throughout history, in every culture, is the story of Popeye.

When you go in for a job interview, I think a good thing to ask is if they ever press charges.

To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there’s no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other.

What is it that makes a complete stranger dive into an icy river to save a solid gold baby? Maybe we’ll never know.

We tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients. But we can’t scoff at them personally, to their faces, and this is what annoys me.

Probably the earliest flyswatters were nothing more than some sort of striking surface attached to the end of a long stick.

I think someone should have had the decency to tell me the luncheon was free. To make someone run out with potato salad in his hand, pretending he’s throwing up, is not what I call hospitality.

To me, clowns aren’t funny. In fact, they’re kind of scary. I’ve wondered where this started and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus, and a clown killed my dad.

As I bit into the nectarine, it had a crisp juiciness about it that was very pleasurable – until I realized it wasn’t a nectarine at all, but A HUMAN HEAD!!

Most people don’t realize that large pieces of coral, which have been painted brown and attached to the skull by common wood screws, can make a child look like a deer.

If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason.

Better not take a dog on the space shuttle, because if he sticks his head out when you’re coming home his face might burn up.

You know what would make a good story? Something about a clown who make people happy, but inside he’s real sad. Also, he has severe diarrhea.

Sometimes when I feel like killing someone, I do a little trick to calm myself down. I’ll go over to the persons house and ring the doorbell. When the person comes to the door, I’m gone, but you know what I’ve left on the porch? A jack-o-lantern with a knife stuck in the side of it’s head with a note that says “You.” After that I usually feel a lot better, and no harm done.

If you’re a horse, and someone gets on you, and falls off, and then gets right back on you, I think you should buck him off right away.

If you ever teach a yodeling class, probably the hardest thing is to keep the students from just trying to yodel right off. You see, we build to that.

If you ever fall off the Sears Tower, just go real limp, because maybe you’ll look like a dummy and people will try to catch you because, hey, free dummy.

I’d like to see a nude opera, because when they hit those high notes, I bet you can really see it in those genitals.

Anytime I see something screech across a room and latch onto someones neck, and the guy screams and tries to get it off, I have to laugh, because what is that thing.

He was a cowboy, mister, and he loved the land. He loved it so much he made a woman out of dirt and married her. But when he kissed her, she disintegrated. Later, at the funeral, when the preacher said, “Dust to dust,” some people laughed, and the cowboy shot them. At his hanging, he told the others, “I’ll be waiting for you in heaven–with a gun.”

The memories of my family outings are still a source of strength to me. I remember we’d all pile into the car – I forget what kind it was – and drive and drive. I’m not sure where we’d go, but I think there were some trees there. The smell of something was strong in the air as we played whatever sport we played. I remember a bigger, older guy we called “Dad.” We’d eat some stuff, or not, and then I think we went home. I guess some things never leave you.

If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is “God is crying.” And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is “Probably because of something you did.”

Contrary to what most people say, the most dangerous animal in the world is not the lion or the tiger or even the elephant. It’s a shark riding on an elephant’s back, just trampling and eating everything they see.

As we were driving, we saw a sign that said “Watch for Rocks.” Marta said it should read “Watch for Pretty Rocks.” I told her she should write in her suggestion to the highway department, but she started saying it was a joke – just to get out of writing a simple letter! And I thought I was lazy!

One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to DisneyLand, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. “Oh, no,” I said, “DisneyLand burned down.” He cried and cried, but I think that deep down he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real DisneyLand, but it was getting pretty late.

If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think liked dolphins the most? I’d say Flippy, wouldn’t you? You’d be wrong, though. It’s Hambone.

Laurie got offended that I used the word “puke.” But to me, that’s what her dinner tasted like.

We used to laugh at Grandpa when he’d head off and go fishing. But we wouldn’t be laughing that evening when he’d come back with some whore he picked up in town.

I wish a robot would get elected president. That way, when he came to town, we could all take a shot at him and not feel too bad.

As the evening sky faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how I named him Flint.

If you’re a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it’s real embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.

Whenever I see an old lady slip and fall on a wet sidewalk, my first instinct is to laugh. But then I think, what is I was an ant, and she fell on me. Then it wouldn’t seem quite so funny.

If you go parachuting, and your parachute doesn’t open, and you friends are all watching you fall, I think a funny gag would be to pretend you were swimming.

When I was a kid my favorite relative was Uncle Caveman. After school we’d all go play in his cave, and every once in a while he would eat one of us. It wasn’t until later that I found out that Uncle Caveman was a bear.

Children need encouragement. If a kid gets an answer right, tell him it was a lucky guess. That way he develops a good, lucky feeling.

The crows seemed to be calling his name, thought Caw.

When you die, if you get a choice between going to regular heaven or pie heaven, choose pie heaven. It might be a trick, but if it’s not, mmmmmmm, boy.

Whether they find a life there or not, I think Jupiter should be called an enemy planet.

Instead of trying to build newer and bigger weapons of destruction, we should be thinking about getting more use out of the ones we already have.

I think a good gift for the President would be a chocolate revolver. and since he is so busy, you’d probably have to run up to him real quick and give it to him.

Just because swans mate for life, I don’t think its that big a deal. First of all, if you’re a swan, you’re probably not going to find a swan that looks much better than the one you’ve got, so why not mate for life?

If you’re robbing a bank and you’re pants fall down, I think it’s okay to laugh and to let the hostages laugh too, because, come on, life is funny.

If you ever catch on fire, try to avoid looking in a mirror, because I bet that will really throw you into a panic.

Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead. No, wait, not me, you.

I can’t stand cheap people. It makes me real mad when someone says something like, “Hey, when are you going to pay me that $100 you owe me?” or “Do you have that $50 you borrowed?” Man, quit being so cheap!

I think the mistake a lot of us make is thinking the state-appointed shrink is our friend.

I think one way the cops could make money would be to hold a murder weapons sale. Many people could really use used ice picks.

If you ever reach total enlightenment while drinking beer, I bet you could shoot beer out of your nose.

I believe in making the world safe for our children, but not our children’s children, because I don’t think children should be having sex.

Even though I was their captive, the Indians allowed me quite a bit of freedom. I could walk freely, make my own meals, and even hurl large rocks at their heads. It was only later that I discovered that they were not Indians at all but only dirty-clothes hampers.

I wish outer space guys would conquer the Earth and make people their pets, because I’d like to have one of those little beds with my name on it.

It’s true that every time you hear a bell, an angel gets its wings. But what they don’t tell you is that every time you hear a mouse trap snap, and Angel gets set on fire.

If you’re in a war, instead of throwing a hand grenade at the enemy, throw one of those small pumpkins. Maybe it’ll make everyone think how stupid war is, and while they are thinking, you can throw a real grenade at them.

I hope life isn’t a big joke, because I don’t get it.

The next time I have meat and mashed potatoes, I think I’ll put a very large blob of potatoes on my plate with just a little piece of meat. And if someone asks me why I didn’t get more meat, I’ll just say, “Oh, you mean this?” and pull out a big piece of meat from inside the blob of potatoes, where I’ve hidden it. Good magic trick, huh?

Life, to me, is like a quiet forest pool, one that needs a direct hit from a big rock half-buried in the ground. You pull and you pull, but you can’t get the rock out of the ground. So you give it a good kick, but you lose your balance and go skidding down the hill toward the pool. Then out comes a big Hawaiian man who was screwing his wife beside the pool because they thought it was real pretty. He tells you to get out of there, but you start faking it, like you’re talking Hawaiian, and then he gets mad and chases you…

Sometimes, when I drive across the desert in the middle of the night, with no other cars around, I start imagining: What if there were no civilization out there? No cities, no factories, no people? And then I think: No people or factories? Then who made this car? And this highway? And I get so confused I have to stick my head out the window into the driving rain—unless there’s lightning, because I could get struck on the head by a bolt.

The whole town laughed at my great-grandfather, just because he worked hard and saved his money. True, working at the hardware store didn’t pay much, but he felt it was better than what everybody else did, which was go up to the volcano and collect the gold nuggets it shot out every day. It turned out he was right. After forty years, the volcano petered out. Everybody left town, and the hardware store went broke. Finally he decided to collect gold nuggets too, but there weren’t many left by then. Plus, he broke his leg and the doctor’s bills were real high.

Too bad when I was a kid there wasn’t a guy in our class that everybody called the “Cricket Boy”, because I would have liked to stand up in class and tell everybody, “You can make fun of the Cricket Boy if you want to, but to me he’s just like everybody else.” Then everybody would leave the Cricket Boy alone, and I’d invite him over to spend the night at my house, but after about five minutes of that loud chirping I’d have to kick him out. Maybe later we could get up a petition to get the Cricket Family run out of town. Bye, Cricket Boy.

I think a good product would be “Baby Duck Hat”. It’s a fake baby duck, which you strap on top of your head. Then you go swimming underwater until you find a mommy duck and her babies, and you join them. Then, all of a sudden, you stand up out of the water and roar like Godzilla. Man, those ducks really take off! Also, Baby Duck Hat is good for parties.

I wish I lived back in the old west days, because I’d save up my money for about twenty years so I could buy a solid-gold pick. Then I’d go out West and start digging for gold. When someone came up and asked what I was doing, I’d say, “Looking for gold, ya durn fool.” He’d say, “Your pick is gold,” and I’d say, “Well, that was easy.” Good joke, huh.

A funny thing to do is, if you’re out hiking and your friend gets bitten by a poisonous snake, tell him you’re going to go for help, then go about ten feet and pretend that *you* got bit by a snake. Then start an argument with him about who’s going to go get help. A lot of guys will start crying. That’s why it makes you feel good when you tell them it was just a joke.

I guess I kinda lost control, because in the middle of the play I ran up and lit the evil puppet villain on fire. No, I didn’t. Just kidding. I just said that to help illustrate one of the human emotions, which is freaking out. Another emotion is greed, as when you kill someone for money, or something like that. Another emotion is generosity, as when you pay someone double what he paid for his stupid puppet.

Many people think that history is a dull subject. Dull? Is it “dull” that Jesse James once got bitten on the forehead by an ant, and at first it didn’t seem like anything, but then the bite got worse and worse, so he went to a doctor in town, and the secretary told him to wait, so he sat down and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and then finally he got to see the doctor, and the doctor put some salve on it? You call that dull?

I scrambled to the top of the precipice where Nick was waiting. “That was fun,” I said. “You bet it was,” said Nick. “Let’s climb higher.” “No,” I said. “I think we should be heading back now.” “We have time,” Nick insisted. I said we didn’t, and Nick said we did. We argued back and forth like that for about 20 minutes, then finally decided to head back. I didn’t say it was an interesting story.

If you’re a Thanksgiving dinner, but you don’t like the stuffing or the cranberry sauce or anything else, just pretend like you’re eating it, but instead, put it all in your lap and form it into a big mushy ball. Then, later, when you’re out back having cigars with the boys, let out a big fake cough and throw the ball to the ground. Then say, “Boy, these are good cigars!”

I remember that one fateful day when Coach took me aside. I knew what was coming. “You don’t have to tell me,” I said. “I’m off the team, aren’t I?” “Well,” said Coach, “you never were really ON the team. You made that uniform you’re wearing out of rags and towels, and your helmet is a toy space helmet. You show up at practice and then either steal the ball and make us chase you to get it back, or you try to tackle people at inappropriate times.” It was all true what he was saying. And yet, I thought something is brewing inside the head of this Coach. He sees something in me, some kind of raw talent that he can mold. But that’s when I felt the handcuffs go on.

If I ever opened a trampoline store, I don’t think I’d call it Trampo-Land, because you might think it was a store for tramps, which is not the inpression we are trying to convey with our store. On the other hand, we would not prohibit tramps from browsing, or testing the trampolines, unless a tramp’s gyrations seemed to be getting out of control.

I can still recall old Mister Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a fresh load of tadpoles to the old board of his. Then he’d spin it round and round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he’d yell out, “Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!” We all thought he was crazy. But then we had some growing up to do.

Once when I was in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai, I met a mysterious old stranger. He said he was about to die and wanted to tell someone about the treasure. I said, “Okay, as long as it’s not a long story. Some of us have a plane to catch, you know.” He stared telling hes story, about the treasure and his life and all, and I thought: “This story isn’t too long.” But then, he kept going, and I started thinking, “Uh-oh, this story is getting long.” But then the story was over, and I said to myself: “You know, that story wasn’t too long after all.” I forget what the story was about, but there was a good movie on the plane. It was a little long, though.

I bet a fun thing would be to go way back in time to where there was going to be an eclipse and tell the cave men, “If I have come to destroy you, may the sun be blotted out from the sky.” Just then the eclipse would start, and they’d probably try to kill you or something, but then you could explain about the rotation of the moon and all, and everyone would get a good laugh.

I wouldn’t be surprised if someday some fishermen caught a big shark and cut it open, and there inside was a whole person. Then they cut the person open, and in him is a little baby shark. And in the baby shark there isn’t a person, because it would be too small. But there’s a little doll or something, like a Johnny Combat little toy guy—something like that.

(These are all Jack Handey quotes that I copied off of this website, no stealing was intended. I don’t steal. I entertain. Which is not stealing. It’s entertaining. See the difference? )

Your Office Doesn’t Care About Your Health.

BlockedI do care about your health. I want to make sure you know as much as possible about serious diseases such as eye chlamydia. Your office doesn’t want you to know that. They want you to get eye chlamydia. They are probably trying to kill you. Shame on them.

How do I know this? Well, I was first informed by one Mr. OpentoAdventure that his office had blocked my blog due to the term “chlamydia”. Had that been the only issue I might have chalked this up to a victory- a real “Damn the Man” moment. Unfortunately, what happened is that I then learned that many readers of this blog were unable to read my blog because of office blocks. Immediately, I realized this was a conspiracy to keep people misinformed about eye chlamydia. Someone doesn’t want you to know about this highly contagious disease, but who is it? I went through the list of usual suspects, Pharmaceuticals, Insurance, Otters, and the Government, but I ruled them out one by one. Who is behind this campaign of blocked information/humor  or as I like to call it ” The Eye Chlamydia Conspiracy of 2010″ ??

The answer to that question is spiders. Eight-legged many eyed spiders. As it turns out they want to have the monopoly on eyes in nature so they want yours to become diseased and fall out. And office internet watchdogs are in on it. The spiders are paying them off. In silk. Oh wait, that’s silkworms. Ok- the spiders are paying them off by scaring their enemies for them. It’s like a mafia thing. The spiders play the tough guys for the office internet watchdogs and then the watchdogs then in turn block my website so you can’t learn about eye chlamydia. Jinkies!

The worst part is that you probably can’t even read this post to become informed about this horrific plot to kill your eyes by the spiders because I have used the word “chlamydia” like 1 million times. Your eyes are going to fall out!!! Because, I’m pretty sure that’s what eye chlamydia does to you. Evil spiders. Just because they want to have the monopoly on eyes. I can’t imagine what they are doing to other creatures with eyes. This is a sad and scary world folks.

Also, I wrote this post because my sister thought my first eye chlamydia reference was funny.

So really it comes down to 4 things.

1. Your office doesn’t care about your health.

2. Spiders want to be the only creatures with eyes.

3. Spiders and office watchdogs are in the mafia together.

4. My sister thinks I’m funny.

Also, I bet you won’t believe that I wrote this post completely sober. I did. It really is a sad scary world.

BobbleHead Neck Brace

Just a follow-up to my previous bobblehead post.

One of the best reasons not to be a bobblehead is your health. You can literally hurt yourself. This has been proven to me by my offices resident bobblehead and the recent neck injury the bobblehead sustained. Sure, they say it’s from something else but I know it’s from too much nodding of the head. Neck injuries people. They hurt. Lesson learned? Don’t be a bobblehead or your neck will break. I’m a bobblehead doctor, I discovered this disease, I know what could happen. Listen to me, take my advice, and don’t bob the head.

Julia Roberts Neck Brace

Pretty soon, this will be the new work attire.

BobbleHead Syndrome

Dwight BobbleHeadYou know this guy. This is the guy you see on a daily, or at least, weekly basis. This is the guy that sits in every meeting or gathering and nods. He just nods and nods and nods. And if he is ever not nodding and sees someone else nodding he quickly starts nodding again. (He isn’t about to be out-nodded). This guy is a bobblehead.

When he says things, he says things like this “We need to action our deliverables” and ” We need to drill down to the bottom line” and ” We can monetize this product. It’s all about monetizing it.” These things don’t really mean anything. The bobblehead should stick to nodding. Somehow the bobblehead is successful. Somehow the bobblehead (though he annoys everyone else) impresses the people he needs to impress to further himself. My theory on this is that important people like to be validated by nods. The more you nod in agreement (whether you understand them or not) the more they trust you and want to reward you for you obvious intelligence. So the bobblehead succeeds.

This success of the bobblehead results in what I like to call bobblehead syndrome. Bobblehead syndrome is when everyone starts following the example of the lead bobblehead. All if the sudden every meeting is like a chorus of nodding. Everyone wants the nod solo but it is hard to come by. There is brutal nodding competition. The only person not nodding is the person speaking whom everyone is trying to impress by nodding. That person feels very validated. I mean, a nod is consent and agreement, and it always feels nice to have everyone agreeing with you. Bobblehead syndrome has infected the entire group (except for rebels like me who now won’t nod even if they do agree).

The cure? As sad as it is, the only cure for bobblehead syndrome is the fall of one of the bobbleheads. At some point a bobblehead will be called out- their pointless nodding will be seen for what it really is, and then everyone will instantly stop nodding afraid of meeting the same humiliating fate. A bobblehead has fallen and then been abandoned by his fellow bobbleheads. This is a nasty syndrome that always ends in heartache. It is resilient, however, and it will return to nod another day. You haven’t seen the last of bobblehead syndrome.

* Note- I discovered bobblehead syndrome. It is one of the most important breakthroughs of my generation. You’re welcome.

Posted in Discoveries Tagged bobblehead syndrome, bobbleheads, business jargon, business speak, comedy, cure, Discoveries, humiliation, , nodding, office, pointless conversations,

Facebook Quitter?!

One of the most frequently searched terms for my blog is “Facebook quitter.” Really people? Who is googling that? In other breaking news, the search term ” Facebook quitter” has now taken over “female domination” as the most popular search that leads people to my blog.

There is just something so negative in that search. Like they are saying “Ohhh, look at the little baby who couldn’t hang with facebook anymore. She took all her personal information and cried all the way home. Boo hoo little facebook quitter.” (Say this to yourself in a sarcastic baby voice and you will realize how aggressive this search term is). Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. But I’m pretty sure that is what they mean.

Also, I’m still confused why people are searching for “facebook quitters” on google. Do they want to join the movement? The Facebook quitting movement I didn’t know I was a part of?  Why is quitting Facebook bad? Or is it good? I am truly befuddled by this. In fact, I think I should probably dedicate the rest of my work day into delving into this issue and sorting it out. Or I should do my job and work. It’s up in the air right now.

Anyway, just to be clear- (because I googled this myself and people were all in all pretty mean about Facebook quitters- and also there were a lot of results in French which I think means France wholeheartedly supports my leaving of Facebook which means the rest of America hates me because I have apparently allied myself with the French)- I was on Facebook for many years and I always liked it and though I felt like they violated my privacy a little too often I would just adjust my settings and go on my happy Facebook way. I liked being reminded of my friends birthdays, and seeing everyones pictures, and posting silly things on people’s wall. Over time, however, it became very un-fun for me. And if there is one thing I do quit it’s things that are un-fun. Believe it or not (I’m sure you don’t believe it) I have a very low tolerance for drama. I don’t like or enjoy it. Enter drama, exit me. Unless it’s really something worth fighting for and, I’m sorry if this offends you, but I don’t think Facebook is worth fighting for. At least not in my life.

To sum up- I didn’t quit Facebook. I freed myself from drama (and prying eyes). If you love Facebook then please, by all means, continue to love it and know that in no way are you being judged by me (unless you are a creepster using Facebook to perpetrate creepiness- then I am probably judging you).

Or if you insist, I totally quit Facebook to start a worldwide union of Facebook Quitters (note: only use this explanation if there ever really is a worldwide union for Facebook Quitters- and then make sure you give me all the credit for it, but only if people like it. If people hate it then it was totally your idea).

If you aren’t sure why people would quit Facebook and you don’t mind your world being rocked by truth then check out this really solid explanation of reasons for quitting the book-of-face. Somewhere in there is the reason I quit. I will let you guess which reason that is.

Posted in Discoveries, Random Tagged , , facebook lovers, facebook quitter, female domination, France, freedom from drama, google, mean, negativity, privacy, sarcasm, union,

Immaturity in the Workplace- I Endorse It.

One time someone told me I was mature. So, if I understand the rules of maturity, that means I get to refer to myself as mature for the rest of my life, because someone else called me that first so it’s not like an ego thing but now I get to own it. I think that’s, like, the first rule of maturity. Probably.

On another note, I acted incredibly immaturely at work yesterday. But since someone else called me mature once I can never be considered immature as whole- I just acted immaturely in this instance. That is the second rule of maturity. Anyway I’m working on a project for a pharmaceutical company and I had to research erectile dysfunction. ED. Impotence. Needless to say, it made me laugh. Like a lot. Every keyword I researched was hilarious- at least it was to me, I mean, I am more than sure it is not at all funny to the men experiencing it. I would like to apologize to them for my insensitivity. The term erectile dysfunction isn’t funny in itself- it sounds too medical to be funny, but all the terms surrounding it are very funny- to me- when I’m being immature. Anyway, I kept being all giggly and I’m sure my boss and everyone else thought I wasn’t really working but it’s like- hey man, if you’re going to assign me (the only women in the office) to the erectile dysfunction project you better be prepared for giggles. Sheesh. The funniest part of the whole thing was that I ended up being super productive and because my giggle juices were flowing I was really happy the whole day. Basically, I have discovered the best way to make people work really hard- give them projects about things that make them laugh. If you use this idea you owe me 3 million dollars. It’s only fair.

In fact, I was in such a good mood that even though I totally thought I was being insulted (which I wasn’t) by a male friend, I didn’t even say anything about it. Usually I call people out on that shiz. This is how the conversation went down (backstory: I have recently been very ill and have lost 15lbs because I was unable to eat anything for 2 weeks, true story)

Friend: You do look a lot better though.

Me: (Inside my head I was pretty sure he was saying I looked better since losing the weight and that I looked grossbuckets before and now that I was starved for 2 weeks I actually looked decent enough to comment on) Oh, Thanks.

Friend: You are definitely acting like you feel better and you have a lot more color than on Monday.

Me: Oh, you meant I look better like healthier not better because I’m skinnier.

Friend: Of course. Sometimes you’re crazy.

Me: Indeed.

I’m so glad I didn’t immediately go on the defensive because I wasn’t even being insulted. Usually I feel pretty sure I’m being insulted so I attack like a mama bear whose cub is being molested by a puma (I don’t know if this actually happens in nature). Anyway laughing at penises all day makes me less defensive about my appearance. And also makes me more productive. I learned a really important lesson today. Immaturity is directly connected to work productivity and general amiability. So really, I owe erectile dysfunction a pretty big thank you.

* Note: I would give you a list of the keywords that made me laugh the hardest but I really believe in doing your own research- stop trying to mooch off my immaturity people.

Posted in Life, Realizations Tagged baby bear, defensive, ED, ego, erectile dysfunction, funny, giggle juice, giggles, good mood, happy, immaturity, impotence, keywords, laughter, mama bear, maturity, medical terms, productivity, puma, rules of maturity, thank you,