I’ve been making a lot of plans lately. I have a plan for this weekend, and a plan to drive to Milwaukee.
That’s right, two plans is “a lot.”
Plan one: Saturday: drinking with friends, enticing other friends to come party with us. It’s a simple plan. Simple plans have higher success rates.
Plan two: (Donny take notes) BIG DRIVE OH FIVE: Tuesday night, make lots of sandwiches, pack cooler with sandwiches and drinks. Get lots of sleep. Wednesday morning place cooler in front seat of truck. Place duffle bag with clothes in back seat of truck. Lower tailgate (to offer less wind resistance). Drive to Chicago.
Note: Wednesday is an “extra” travel day. Originally I’d planned one marathon drive from Boston to Milwaukee, but then someone informed me that would take almost 24 hours of straight driving, and I’d rather not fall asleep at the wheel. So, if I get tired Wednesday I can pull over and crash for a few hours (or more if needed) in some shady highway motel, then get back on the road Thursday for a much shorter (comparatively) trip.
Arrive in Chicago either Thursday very early in the AM, or Thursday in the early PM. Sleep for hours. Call people I know in Chicago, possibly meet up for dinner or drinks. Don’t judge me. Sleep (again) in Chicago.
Meet Donny Friday AM in Chicago, see the sights. Drive to Milwaukee.
Spend weekend in Milwaukee, brewery tours, cheese, cheese and more cheese.
Monday AM drive to Boston.
Arrive in Boston sometime Tuesday.
Wednesday, “work.”
That’s a hell of a lot of planning. Also, it would be helpful if you readers could point out any flaws in my plan. Things like “um, it takes 40 hours to drive to Milwaukee” or other such temporal miscues would be especially appreciated.
bam.
-tgme
recommended download:
Chuck Berry, Louie, Louie
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Songs out on the road
The ultimate road trip song.
I’m driving to Milwaukee in November (Big Drive ’05). I will be in the car for not less than eighteen hours (one way). I plan to listen almost exclusively to the music stored on my iPod.
I currently have two thousand nine hundred sixteen (2,916) songs occupying just over half of the available space on the hard drive. That’s just over six days (6) of music. Since I will be in the car for only about one and one half days (1 ½) I’m looking to whittle it down to a playlist that can run, uninterrupted, continuously, for thirty six hours.
That means no skipping over songs, no lame songs, no songs I hate popping up accidentally (as is prone to happen with the shuffle feature). I want to hit “play” as I leave my driveway and not touch the iPod until I get to Milwaukee.
So I need suggestions. What are the ultimate road trip songs? Feel free to leave a long list, I’ve got plenty of storage space. All songs will be considered: upbeat to keep me awake, songs that have the word “road” in the title, songs about road trips, bonus points if you meet one (or more) of the first three criteria and also manage to do it with a song I love. Or even songs associated with road trips like Elliot Smith’s Miss Misery which was played over the closing credits of Good Will Hunting as Matt Damon’s character drove cross-country from Boston to California
-t
recommended download:
Eve 6, The Open Road Song
P.S. Waylon Jennings, Folks Out On The Road; Judas Priest, Headin’ Out To The Highway; The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Road Trippin’; James Taylor, Sweet Baby James; Semisonic, On The Road; Johnny Cash, I’ve Been Everywhere…
I’m driving to Milwaukee in November (Big Drive ’05). I will be in the car for not less than eighteen hours (one way). I plan to listen almost exclusively to the music stored on my iPod.
I currently have two thousand nine hundred sixteen (2,916) songs occupying just over half of the available space on the hard drive. That’s just over six days (6) of music. Since I will be in the car for only about one and one half days (1 ½) I’m looking to whittle it down to a playlist that can run, uninterrupted, continuously, for thirty six hours.
That means no skipping over songs, no lame songs, no songs I hate popping up accidentally (as is prone to happen with the shuffle feature). I want to hit “play” as I leave my driveway and not touch the iPod until I get to Milwaukee.
So I need suggestions. What are the ultimate road trip songs? Feel free to leave a long list, I’ve got plenty of storage space. All songs will be considered: upbeat to keep me awake, songs that have the word “road” in the title, songs about road trips, bonus points if you meet one (or more) of the first three criteria and also manage to do it with a song I love. Or even songs associated with road trips like Elliot Smith’s Miss Misery which was played over the closing credits of Good Will Hunting as Matt Damon’s character drove cross-country from Boston to California
-t
recommended download:
Eve 6, The Open Road Song
P.S. Waylon Jennings, Folks Out On The Road; Judas Priest, Headin’ Out To The Highway; The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Road Trippin’; James Taylor, Sweet Baby James; Semisonic, On The Road; Johnny Cash, I’ve Been Everywhere…
Monday, September 26, 2005
Where the beer flows like wine
Hey, I forgot to mention that we were attacked by a bear on Saturday night.
Well, I didn’t really forget, because that’s not something that’s easily forgotten, what I mean to say is I meant to post something about the attack by the giant bear, but didn’t, because it would not fit with the subject of my earlier post.
So anyway, the story of the being attacked by a bear, in Boston (city of):
We, John, Felecia, and myself, were walking to John’s apartment, abuzz with conversation and un-sobriety. As we turned from the well-lit, city street full of other slightly inebriated area residents onto the quieter side street we had NO IDEA of what was about to transpire. All in all, with the light fall breeze, and the non-so-distant-but-sort-of-out-of-screaming-distance sounds of drunken revelry we’d just left it felt very much like the start of a really good horror/teen-slasher movie about three college kids walking home after drinking at a bar until 2 AM, with just one thing missing: A GIANT BEAR.
Well, as luck would have it, just as we three were stepping past a dark alley, the night provided us with the perfect HORROR MOVIE MONSTER. Backlit, this giant lumbering furry shape came at us and took us completely unawares! The beast damn-near knocked Felecia down, and came very close to biting my hand off before we even knew what the hell was going on. I don’t know what happened to John, but it is entirely possible he ran for blocks screaming at the first sign of this thing.
This giant, furry, GIANT thing, which turned out to be…and I’m not exaggerating here the awesomest dog ever, was named Aspen.
He was out wandering the streets and back alleys of the city, being very friendly and nice to people, acting on his impeccable training (we covered “sit” and “down”) and being in general good spirits for the half hour we spent with him. It was half-an-hour because none of the three phone numbers on his tag had a real live person on the other end, so John left some messages for people, along the lines of “Listen, I would think that if your GAINT BEAR escaped from your yard, or your house, or your bear cage, or whatever, that you would know it, but just in case you haven’t noticed, your dog Aspen escaped and is making the cars in the neighborhood feel inadequate. Could you give us a call back? Thanks.”
We didn’t hear back, so we thought the best thing to do was lock him safely in the vestibule of a nearby building to prevent him from accidentally sitting on a Jeep or something and crushing it. I rang the bell for all the apartments in one building until someone buzzed us in, and we bid adieu to Aspen.
His was the awesomest breed I’ve ever met in real life, and I am totally thinking about getting one. Later I’ll post a picture if I can find one online, and I’ll try to put something in there for size comparison. Like my truck. He was a very nice dog.
But really, there was a second there I thought he was a giant bear and was going to eat us.
-t
Well, I didn’t really forget, because that’s not something that’s easily forgotten, what I mean to say is I meant to post something about the attack by the giant bear, but didn’t, because it would not fit with the subject of my earlier post.
So anyway, the story of the being attacked by a bear, in Boston (city of):
We, John, Felecia, and myself, were walking to John’s apartment, abuzz with conversation and un-sobriety. As we turned from the well-lit, city street full of other slightly inebriated area residents onto the quieter side street we had NO IDEA of what was about to transpire. All in all, with the light fall breeze, and the non-so-distant-but-sort-of-out-of-screaming-distance sounds of drunken revelry we’d just left it felt very much like the start of a really good horror/teen-slasher movie about three college kids walking home after drinking at a bar until 2 AM, with just one thing missing: A GIANT BEAR.
Well, as luck would have it, just as we three were stepping past a dark alley, the night provided us with the perfect HORROR MOVIE MONSTER. Backlit, this giant lumbering furry shape came at us and took us completely unawares! The beast damn-near knocked Felecia down, and came very close to biting my hand off before we even knew what the hell was going on. I don’t know what happened to John, but it is entirely possible he ran for blocks screaming at the first sign of this thing.
This giant, furry, GIANT thing, which turned out to be…and I’m not exaggerating here the awesomest dog ever, was named Aspen.
He was out wandering the streets and back alleys of the city, being very friendly and nice to people, acting on his impeccable training (we covered “sit” and “down”) and being in general good spirits for the half hour we spent with him. It was half-an-hour because none of the three phone numbers on his tag had a real live person on the other end, so John left some messages for people, along the lines of “Listen, I would think that if your GAINT BEAR escaped from your yard, or your house, or your bear cage, or whatever, that you would know it, but just in case you haven’t noticed, your dog Aspen escaped and is making the cars in the neighborhood feel inadequate. Could you give us a call back? Thanks.”
We didn’t hear back, so we thought the best thing to do was lock him safely in the vestibule of a nearby building to prevent him from accidentally sitting on a Jeep or something and crushing it. I rang the bell for all the apartments in one building until someone buzzed us in, and we bid adieu to Aspen.
His was the awesomest breed I’ve ever met in real life, and I am totally thinking about getting one. Later I’ll post a picture if I can find one online, and I’ll try to put something in there for size comparison. Like my truck. He was a very nice dog.
But really, there was a second there I thought he was a giant bear and was going to eat us.
-t
The Final Final Chapter
So I really feel a need to defend her. Isn’t it my obligation? Especially after John just started taking shots at her expense, for no reason.
So, ok, I am going to defend her a little bit. (if you have no idea what I’m talking about, please go here and read John’s account, it is totally ok to post mean comments on his blog, or spam, spam is ok too)
So, as a brief review: pretty girl sits near the printers and is the prettiest, and also the best-dressed of my coworkers. I had (past tense) a crush on her. At one point I even asked her out and she said “yes” (longtime readers will recall “the date that never happened”). Then things went downhill, she found a boyfriend, she may have been hooking up with an oafish manager, and the “crush” fizzled. Prior to this weekend’s escapade she was held in not-so-high esteem by yours truly (or, cascadingly). Click here for all the relevant posts. So…
This weekend I went out with John and Felecia. (Hi guys!). I drove (in my brand new truck) to John’s apartment, where we drank and watched Friends and waited for Felecia. Once she arrived she began to agonize over a cute boy who lives near her and text-messaged her once and should she go to the bar he said he’d be at or would that seem like she was rushing out to meet him or should she call him or text him back or ignore him or what. I gave some very good advice which she did not follow, John gave some really bad advice that she did not follow, but, it didn’t matter because the bar he said he’d be at wasn’t letting anyone in and it was lame. So we went someplace else instead. We drank some more, ate some cheese fries, and John tried (and failed) to rank girls in order of good-looking-ness. John is the worst judge of “yeah, she’s good-looking” I’ve ever been out with, coming in a distant second is my cousin Fred who is legally blind. After that we got kicked out early and needed a new place to drink.. So, now that Felecia’s guy thing was a bust, I proposed we head over to a bar that pretty girl (that’s right pretty girl) frequents.
And it was the BEST THING FOR ME. Or at least I thought so at the time, enough to call Lindsay on John’s phone and leave her a voicemail about a life-altering experience.
We saw pretty girl. I got to point her out to John and Felecia who thought she wasn’t that pretty at all. And also that she was wearing maybe the ugliest and least flattering ensemble possible. And that her hair was limp. I’ve gotta tell you, they were mostly right.
First, she is very pretty.
Second, she totally dresses very well at the office.
Third, her hair almost never looks that bad.
As a concession we can point out that she lives close to the bar, and maybe she wasn’t really trying. I know I wouldn’t if a bar were within three block of my apartment I would be there in pajama pants an old t-shirt and a red sox hat every night of the week, weather be damned, because I don’t need to impress anyone. If some girl wants to get to know me she can decided if she likes my personality.
Which is where my esteem for pretty girl dropped dramatically.
We were there for about five minutes, talking to the pretty girl and her (very drunk and friendly) roommate. Maybe she didn’t look her best. Maybe she was dressed like a hippie. That isn’t the point. It was what she said. And how she said it. Un-educated. Un-intelligent. Plus, lots of swearing. Certainly way more than any self-respecting southern girl would allow herself to utter. Which leads us to a conclusion that would have been drawn months ago if the pretty girl and I had actually ever gone on an actual date: She does not belong on a pedestal. A college degree does not wipe out a childhood in the deep south (yes, I honestly expected it to).
This interaction also reaffirmed what I have known (and many people realize, as they get to know me): I live in a world of complete fantasy. Complete. Fantasy. There is romance around every corner; depravity only exists in fiction; truth, beauty, and honor are everyone’s ideals, and bad things not only do not happen to good people, they don’t happen at all.
In summation:
The pretty girl is pretty at work, and a undereducated drunk elsewhere.
I am totally delusional.
…
Ok, I’ve lost my train of thought, there might be one or two more summations that need to be drawn, but tough, I’ve rambled way off the trail.
-t
recommended download:
The Shins, Girl Inform Me
Bowling For Soup, The Hard Way
So, ok, I am going to defend her a little bit. (if you have no idea what I’m talking about, please go here and read John’s account, it is totally ok to post mean comments on his blog, or spam, spam is ok too)
So, as a brief review: pretty girl sits near the printers and is the prettiest, and also the best-dressed of my coworkers. I had (past tense) a crush on her. At one point I even asked her out and she said “yes” (longtime readers will recall “the date that never happened”). Then things went downhill, she found a boyfriend, she may have been hooking up with an oafish manager, and the “crush” fizzled. Prior to this weekend’s escapade she was held in not-so-high esteem by yours truly (or, cascadingly). Click here for all the relevant posts. So…
This weekend I went out with John and Felecia. (Hi guys!). I drove (in my brand new truck) to John’s apartment, where we drank and watched Friends and waited for Felecia. Once she arrived she began to agonize over a cute boy who lives near her and text-messaged her once and should she go to the bar he said he’d be at or would that seem like she was rushing out to meet him or should she call him or text him back or ignore him or what. I gave some very good advice which she did not follow, John gave some really bad advice that she did not follow, but, it didn’t matter because the bar he said he’d be at wasn’t letting anyone in and it was lame. So we went someplace else instead. We drank some more, ate some cheese fries, and John tried (and failed) to rank girls in order of good-looking-ness. John is the worst judge of “yeah, she’s good-looking” I’ve ever been out with, coming in a distant second is my cousin Fred who is legally blind. After that we got kicked out early and needed a new place to drink.. So, now that Felecia’s guy thing was a bust, I proposed we head over to a bar that pretty girl (that’s right pretty girl) frequents.
And it was the BEST THING FOR ME. Or at least I thought so at the time, enough to call Lindsay on John’s phone and leave her a voicemail about a life-altering experience.
We saw pretty girl. I got to point her out to John and Felecia who thought she wasn’t that pretty at all. And also that she was wearing maybe the ugliest and least flattering ensemble possible. And that her hair was limp. I’ve gotta tell you, they were mostly right.
First, she is very pretty.
Second, she totally dresses very well at the office.
Third, her hair almost never looks that bad.
As a concession we can point out that she lives close to the bar, and maybe she wasn’t really trying. I know I wouldn’t if a bar were within three block of my apartment I would be there in pajama pants an old t-shirt and a red sox hat every night of the week, weather be damned, because I don’t need to impress anyone. If some girl wants to get to know me she can decided if she likes my personality.
Which is where my esteem for pretty girl dropped dramatically.
We were there for about five minutes, talking to the pretty girl and her (very drunk and friendly) roommate. Maybe she didn’t look her best. Maybe she was dressed like a hippie. That isn’t the point. It was what she said. And how she said it. Un-educated. Un-intelligent. Plus, lots of swearing. Certainly way more than any self-respecting southern girl would allow herself to utter. Which leads us to a conclusion that would have been drawn months ago if the pretty girl and I had actually ever gone on an actual date: She does not belong on a pedestal. A college degree does not wipe out a childhood in the deep south (yes, I honestly expected it to).
This interaction also reaffirmed what I have known (and many people realize, as they get to know me): I live in a world of complete fantasy. Complete. Fantasy. There is romance around every corner; depravity only exists in fiction; truth, beauty, and honor are everyone’s ideals, and bad things not only do not happen to good people, they don’t happen at all.
In summation:
The pretty girl is pretty at work, and a undereducated drunk elsewhere.
I am totally delusional.
…
Ok, I’ve lost my train of thought, there might be one or two more summations that need to be drawn, but tough, I’ve rambled way off the trail.
-t
recommended download:
The Shins, Girl Inform Me
Bowling For Soup, The Hard Way
Lonelyland
If you did have a million dollars, what would you do with your life?
Every few weeks I ride in to work on a nearly-empty train. When I arrive at my station I am the only one to take the Dover St. exit as I leave the station. When I step into my building, I am the only one in the long entrance hallway. It is just at this point that I begin to doubt and second-guess, because the building should not be empty. “Is today a bank holiday?” “Did I come in to work on a Saturday?” and similar questions tug at my mind.
I wouldn’t need a million dollars. All I would need is a reprieve from obligation. In those few steps in that empty hallway, I think happy thoughts. “I’ll just keep walking to the other exit, out the doors, I’ll find a nice coffee shop, and finish reading my book.” That would be the absolute highlight of the week for me. A unexpected day to read.
About this time is when I see someone cross the other end of the hallway, when I realize business is open today, that my book will have to wait until the homeward commute. Oh well, it would have been nice to skip out. But not today.
-tom
recommended download:
Marcy Playground, Sex & Candy
Every few weeks I ride in to work on a nearly-empty train. When I arrive at my station I am the only one to take the Dover St. exit as I leave the station. When I step into my building, I am the only one in the long entrance hallway. It is just at this point that I begin to doubt and second-guess, because the building should not be empty. “Is today a bank holiday?” “Did I come in to work on a Saturday?” and similar questions tug at my mind.
I wouldn’t need a million dollars. All I would need is a reprieve from obligation. In those few steps in that empty hallway, I think happy thoughts. “I’ll just keep walking to the other exit, out the doors, I’ll find a nice coffee shop, and finish reading my book.” That would be the absolute highlight of the week for me. A unexpected day to read.
About this time is when I see someone cross the other end of the hallway, when I realize business is open today, that my book will have to wait until the homeward commute. Oh well, it would have been nice to skip out. But not today.
-tom
recommended download:
Marcy Playground, Sex & Candy
Friday, September 23, 2005
Pick to Lose
So, I’m in this football pool. You pick the teams you think will win this week, and rank them based on how confident you are. Rankings range from 1 to 16. If you pick the Carolina Panthers to win their game, and are very sure they will, you might rank them high on the list, like a 15. If you pick the San Francisco 49ers to win, but you’re not really sure they’ll pull it off, you might rank them near the bottom, like 2.
Also, this pool is in Donny’s office in Milwaukee. Every week “Joe” sends out an email with the pick sheet, and I send one back with my picks and rankings.
Here is the response I got today:
From: JoeFootball@DonnysWork.com
To: TommyBoy@slackerdom.org
Tom
You have two teams ranked at (11) points and none at ranked (3) points. Please advise
Joe Football
I replied:
From: TommyBoy@slackerdom.org
To: JoeFootball@DonnysWork.com
Joe,
Atlanta (3)
Denver (11)
In knew I missed one.
Thanks!
Tom
Ok, so with me so far?
Donny, who had been CCed on the emails, thought he would chime in:
From: Donny@StatsAreCool.com
To: JoeFootball@DonnysWork.com
Joe,
Tom also has troubling adding. I forget the story behind that, but as a math major, adding should have been one of his first goals.
Donald
Thanks Donny.
-t
recommended downloads:
Social Distortion, Born To Lose
Also, this pool is in Donny’s office in Milwaukee. Every week “Joe” sends out an email with the pick sheet, and I send one back with my picks and rankings.
Here is the response I got today:
From: JoeFootball@DonnysWork.com
To: TommyBoy@slackerdom.org
Tom
You have two teams ranked at (11) points and none at ranked (3) points. Please advise
Joe Football
I replied:
From: TommyBoy@slackerdom.org
To: JoeFootball@DonnysWork.com
Joe,
Atlanta (3)
Denver (11)
In knew I missed one.
Thanks!
Tom
Ok, so with me so far?
Donny, who had been CCed on the emails, thought he would chime in:
From: Donny@StatsAreCool.com
To: JoeFootball@DonnysWork.com
Joe,
Tom also has troubling adding. I forget the story behind that, but as a math major, adding should have been one of his first goals.
Donald
Thanks Donny.
-t
recommended downloads:
Social Distortion, Born To Lose
The Upside of Apathy
There were mistakes made last night. Mistakes I should have caught, and didn’t. Mistakes that will probably result in angry emails from the client to my managers. But I don’t even care.
That’s not to say I don’t care about making the mistakes, what I mean rather, is that it has not had a negative effect on my mood today. I’ve fixed what I could this morning, and taken steps to ensure the mistake won’t be made again tonight.
Three managers are out today, we’re down to a skeleton staff, and more responsibility has been thrust onto my shoulders. But I don’t even care.
I don’t care because I will handle it no problem, and also, because it’s the motherfuckin’ weekend. (the motherfuckin’ TIME!)
Last night I visited one of my former residents. She is now an RA. That’s right: a resident assistant. I’m so proud. Last night was her first on-call shift, so I went over and hung out and went on rounds with her and it was a really good time. Shout out to the RAs reading this blog (Donny).
Tonight I’ll be helping Tom move an entertainment center and using my truck to do it. I’m pretty excited, I haven’t had to lug anything in the truck in almost three weeks.
So that’s it for now, thanks for checking in.
-Tom
recommended downloads:
Midtown, Waiting For The News
The Flaming Lips, Fight Test
Lucky Boys Confusion, Committment
That’s not to say I don’t care about making the mistakes, what I mean rather, is that it has not had a negative effect on my mood today. I’ve fixed what I could this morning, and taken steps to ensure the mistake won’t be made again tonight.
Three managers are out today, we’re down to a skeleton staff, and more responsibility has been thrust onto my shoulders. But I don’t even care.
I don’t care because I will handle it no problem, and also, because it’s the motherfuckin’ weekend. (the motherfuckin’ TIME!)
Last night I visited one of my former residents. She is now an RA. That’s right: a resident assistant. I’m so proud. Last night was her first on-call shift, so I went over and hung out and went on rounds with her and it was a really good time. Shout out to the RAs reading this blog (Donny).
Tonight I’ll be helping Tom move an entertainment center and using my truck to do it. I’m pretty excited, I haven’t had to lug anything in the truck in almost three weeks.
So that’s it for now, thanks for checking in.
-Tom
recommended downloads:
Midtown, Waiting For The News
The Flaming Lips, Fight Test
Lucky Boys Confusion, Committment
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Scarface
It's not like I've been shaving my whole life. I shave infrequently, necessity does not demand otherwise (interesting double-negative structure, eh, adina?). So I'm no expert.
On the other hand, shaving isn't very difficult, so you don't really need to be an expert, do you? The difference isn't expertise anyway, it's lacking an opportunity to practice.
So I was shaving earlier, and instead of drawing the blade across my face, parallel to the skin, as is proper, I sort of just gouged a giant cut into my cheek.
Hey, it's fine. It happens; the razor slips, you blink at an inopportune time, you know.
But I'm totally telling anyone who asks I got cut in a knife fight.
-t
recommended download:
Fuel, Knives and Slow
On the other hand, shaving isn't very difficult, so you don't really need to be an expert, do you? The difference isn't expertise anyway, it's lacking an opportunity to practice.
So I was shaving earlier, and instead of drawing the blade across my face, parallel to the skin, as is proper, I sort of just gouged a giant cut into my cheek.
Hey, it's fine. It happens; the razor slips, you blink at an inopportune time, you know.
But I'm totally telling anyone who asks I got cut in a knife fight.
-t
recommended download:
Fuel, Knives and Slow
Punctuation makes all the difference
What a difference a day makes. Though, I am more inclined to chalk it up to a good night’s rest. And an exclamation point.
So, I was going to write a brief nose girl update for those of you who care. But I won’t. If you really can’t live without the info I will be accepting interrogative emails and IMs all day.
Instead I am going to describe to you a vision I had late last night, of a kitchen.
The kitchen is U-shaped. One end of the U opens into a large dining room. As you enter from the dining room the refrigerator (in brushed aluminum) is immediately on your left, then the range and oven, and then the sink, each separated by some counter space. At the bottom of the U, after you turn the corner is the sink, and the dishwasher, above them a giant window looking out into the back yard. The other side of the U is counter space with a cutout looking through into the living area. There is a giant island in the middle of the kitchen. The kitchen floor is tiled in a deep blue, the walls along the countertop and behind the range are tiled in a lighter shade of the same blue. The counters and cabinets are of a light small-grained wood. It is very open and the dominating feature is the island, providing about a football field of counterspace.
After thinking about this kitchen for a little while I dropped right off to sleep. I woke up almost eight hours later, and here I am awake, alert, and ready to tackle the tough problems.
-t
recommended downloads:
Phantom Planet, Always On My Mind
Willie Nelson, You Were Always On My Mind
and The Beatles, Help!
So, I was going to write a brief nose girl update for those of you who care. But I won’t. If you really can’t live without the info I will be accepting interrogative emails and IMs all day.
Instead I am going to describe to you a vision I had late last night, of a kitchen.
The kitchen is U-shaped. One end of the U opens into a large dining room. As you enter from the dining room the refrigerator (in brushed aluminum) is immediately on your left, then the range and oven, and then the sink, each separated by some counter space. At the bottom of the U, after you turn the corner is the sink, and the dishwasher, above them a giant window looking out into the back yard. The other side of the U is counter space with a cutout looking through into the living area. There is a giant island in the middle of the kitchen. The kitchen floor is tiled in a deep blue, the walls along the countertop and behind the range are tiled in a lighter shade of the same blue. The counters and cabinets are of a light small-grained wood. It is very open and the dominating feature is the island, providing about a football field of counterspace.
After thinking about this kitchen for a little while I dropped right off to sleep. I woke up almost eight hours later, and here I am awake, alert, and ready to tackle the tough problems.
-t
recommended downloads:
Phantom Planet, Always On My Mind
Willie Nelson, You Were Always On My Mind
and The Beatles, Help!
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Holiday
It’s a late post today because I have been away from my desk, doing nothing, for a long time.
It’s been nice.
Beyond that, I don’t have much to say. I feel an obligation to post, so at the very least there will be a new headline to greet me when I refresh the page. I’ve been doing some thinking recently about my upcoming BIG DRIVE OH-FIVE (ps, adina, the rhyme is the reason this works, last year BIG DETOUR OH-FOUR would have been brilliant). There are a few things I need to accomplish before skipping out on holiday for an extended weekend.
I need to get a bed liner for my truck, I need to plot my route, I need to make sandwiches for the car ride.
Then I will be ready.
Once there, I will be paying out a substantial amount of money (Donny, how much will I have lost by then?) for playing in Donny’s office football pool. This is the last year I will be joining such a pool.
Because I suck at it.
Elsewhere, there is not much going on, I am struggling (valiantly) with MVP Baseball 2005 for Xbox: I have yet to hit a home run, and my pitchers have given up about seventy to opposing batters in just under fifteen games. I am also reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, and so far (p. 250) am enjoying it. Speaking of A.R., have any of you readers read her books? I knew a guy who said The Fountainhead changed his life. Plausible?
Oh, and I missed the premiere of Arrested Development, which is too bad, because I love that show. I am going to work on finding a regular place to watch that monday nights. It’s sometimes nice to have a routine.
-Tom
recommended download:
Green Day, Holiday
It’s been nice.
Beyond that, I don’t have much to say. I feel an obligation to post, so at the very least there will be a new headline to greet me when I refresh the page. I’ve been doing some thinking recently about my upcoming BIG DRIVE OH-FIVE (ps, adina, the rhyme is the reason this works, last year BIG DETOUR OH-FOUR would have been brilliant). There are a few things I need to accomplish before skipping out on holiday for an extended weekend.
I need to get a bed liner for my truck, I need to plot my route, I need to make sandwiches for the car ride.
Then I will be ready.
Once there, I will be paying out a substantial amount of money (Donny, how much will I have lost by then?) for playing in Donny’s office football pool. This is the last year I will be joining such a pool.
Because I suck at it.
Elsewhere, there is not much going on, I am struggling (valiantly) with MVP Baseball 2005 for Xbox: I have yet to hit a home run, and my pitchers have given up about seventy to opposing batters in just under fifteen games. I am also reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, and so far (p. 250) am enjoying it. Speaking of A.R., have any of you readers read her books? I knew a guy who said The Fountainhead changed his life. Plausible?
Oh, and I missed the premiere of Arrested Development, which is too bad, because I love that show. I am going to work on finding a regular place to watch that monday nights. It’s sometimes nice to have a routine.
-Tom
recommended download:
Green Day, Holiday
Monday, September 19, 2005
Suck it, bomb!
I love ebay. I play to win:
I find my target. Eleven minutes left, one bid entered.
I read the details, do some brief research online.
Ten minutes left, I enter my first bid, not enough.
I enter a higher bid, I am the current high bidder.
I watch the auction closely, waiting for speers1350 to re-up.
Seven minute left. She does.
I wait, patiently.
And wait.
Three minutes left, a new bidder enters, edreilly136.
I enter a quick bid to determine his limit. I am outbid.
So I wait.
And I wait.
The thrill of the hunt.
Thirty seconds left, I enter my max bid.
At the Confirm Bid screen I wait.
Five seconds. Ten seconds. Let him think he's won it.
Confirm Bid!
Seven seconds. Refresh! Five seconds. Refresh!
Two, one second remaining.
I WIN I WIN I WIN.
I rule all ebay.
-t
recommended download:
Oasis, Acquiesce
I find my target. Eleven minutes left, one bid entered.
I read the details, do some brief research online.
Ten minutes left, I enter my first bid, not enough.
I enter a higher bid, I am the current high bidder.
I watch the auction closely, waiting for speers1350 to re-up.
Seven minute left. She does.
I wait, patiently.
And wait.
Three minutes left, a new bidder enters, edreilly136.
I enter a quick bid to determine his limit. I am outbid.
So I wait.
And I wait.
The thrill of the hunt.
Thirty seconds left, I enter my max bid.
At the Confirm Bid screen I wait.
Five seconds. Ten seconds. Let him think he's won it.
Confirm Bid!
Seven seconds. Refresh! Five seconds. Refresh!
Two, one second remaining.
I WIN I WIN I WIN.
I rule all ebay.
-t
recommended download:
Oasis, Acquiesce
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Pick 'em
Items of note:
-cascadingly yours,
Tom
recommended downloads:
Stephen Kellogg, Such A Way
- I scored fifty-two (52) of a possible one hundred thirty-six (136) points in last week’s football pool. Also of note: I’m playing in Donny’s office pool, which is in Milwaukee. However, there was one participant who scored lower than I did: Joe, the pool’s organizer scored only forty-two (42) points in week one.
- The television detective known for his proclivity for lollipops is Kojak and not, as is maintained by a coworker’s trivia desk calendar, Columbo, who was played by Peter Faulk, who has a glass eye.
- I get paid approximately $9,400.00 a year to blog at work.
- People think my recent haircut looks “professional,” I think it looks “stupid.”
- I have not archived one fund since May 17th, 2005.
- I would never use the company email to set up and distribute a clever pyramid scheme based on wagering large sums of money on fantasy football leagues. Not ever.
- Gmail is much easier to use than the company email system.
- I cannot remember the last time I wore a tie to work. It may or may not have been the day I used a shoelace for a belt.
- There are seven different ways to kill a man using a Swingline stapler.
- I’m seriously considering stealing the ladder maintenance guys just brought in to change some lightbulbs.
- I have not stolen enough push-pins to complete the smiley face on my bulletin board.
-cascadingly yours,
Tom
recommended downloads:
Stephen Kellogg, Such A Way
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Arthritic
My fingers hurt. I think I am typing too much. What I do not know is if the typing I'm doing is mostly for work, like punching numbers into the calculator, or mostly from non-work, like AIMing and blogging.
Who am I kidding? Of course it's from non-work.
On the other hand, it may not be typing, it might be the grip I use when holding a pen. It seems to strain my right hand more than my left, since the left almost never holds the pen, and it seems to crop up after I've been writing.
Usually it's not work related. (Big surprise, right?) I've got pages. Pages, and pages, and pages of doodles. Little cartoon guys with big eyes and dopey smiles, birds, big bubble letters, and giant works of abstraction. If I stacked all these pages together it would be about eight inches tall. I don't have room for all of them at my desk, so every so often I bring a big stack home and file it away.
I try not to think too much about what I do here that they're not paying me to do. I do continue to do it though.
-t
recommended download:
Flogging Molly, Black Friday Rule, and Devil's Dance Floor
Who am I kidding? Of course it's from non-work.
On the other hand, it may not be typing, it might be the grip I use when holding a pen. It seems to strain my right hand more than my left, since the left almost never holds the pen, and it seems to crop up after I've been writing.
Usually it's not work related. (Big surprise, right?) I've got pages. Pages, and pages, and pages of doodles. Little cartoon guys with big eyes and dopey smiles, birds, big bubble letters, and giant works of abstraction. If I stacked all these pages together it would be about eight inches tall. I don't have room for all of them at my desk, so every so often I bring a big stack home and file it away.
I try not to think too much about what I do here that they're not paying me to do. I do continue to do it though.
-t
recommended download:
Flogging Molly, Black Friday Rule, and Devil's Dance Floor
My Eyes Hurt
It hurts a little when I blink, and when I open my eyes. I think, ideally, I should just keep my eyes closed. I don't know if I can get my job done blind though. I'm good, but maybe not that good.
This dull ache in my lower back, and this blinking problem, probably arise because I haven't been sleeping much lately. Now, that's not to say I've been having trouble sleeping, that's certainly not the case: I could drop off to sleep anywhere, anytime. I don't like missing things.
So I stay awake for Red Sox games on the west coast, and monday night football, even though I don't give a damn if the Falcons beat the Eagles or who the Rams are playing. I stay awake to play "just a few more innings" of MVP Baseball on the xbox, or to read "just a few more pages" in whatever book I'm reading. I stay awake just in case something exciting happens.
Inevitably I end up in bed at 2 A.M. instead of midinght like I'd planned. And every couple of days I do go to bed early, sometimes as early as eleven thirty, and that's when I end up reading twenty chapters or listening to every Flogging Molly album I've got.
I don't mind too much though, not many exciting things happen in the morning, so I've got those few hours to recover. And to practice blinking.
-t
recommended download:
Flogging Molly, Tomorrow Comes A Day Too Soon and Life In A Tenement Square
This dull ache in my lower back, and this blinking problem, probably arise because I haven't been sleeping much lately. Now, that's not to say I've been having trouble sleeping, that's certainly not the case: I could drop off to sleep anywhere, anytime. I don't like missing things.
So I stay awake for Red Sox games on the west coast, and monday night football, even though I don't give a damn if the Falcons beat the Eagles or who the Rams are playing. I stay awake to play "just a few more innings" of MVP Baseball on the xbox, or to read "just a few more pages" in whatever book I'm reading. I stay awake just in case something exciting happens.
Inevitably I end up in bed at 2 A.M. instead of midinght like I'd planned. And every couple of days I do go to bed early, sometimes as early as eleven thirty, and that's when I end up reading twenty chapters or listening to every Flogging Molly album I've got.
I don't mind too much though, not many exciting things happen in the morning, so I've got those few hours to recover. And to practice blinking.
-t
recommended download:
Flogging Molly, Tomorrow Comes A Day Too Soon and Life In A Tenement Square
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Hello? Who is this...?
Oh man, I just had a great idea.
Pick a blog. Preferably one that gets updated or checked by the author once or twice a week. Not one that is written by a computer/blog-savy webmaster because they'll end this little game real quick. And don't pick anybody famous, (you know, "famous") because this will be more exciting if the author doesn't have a big following.
Leave messages for a friend of yours in the comment section, then, have the friend respond.
Entire conversations between you two people in the comments on a post.
You could try themes! For example, the post is about taking the dog to the vet, but mentions a trip to the farm that happened last week. Your comment could be "Joe, I totally know you thought about that time we went cow tipping at the Daisy Dairy farm Halloween sophmore year when you read that. Man we were so wasted that night." then Joe responds with something like "We never went cow tipping. I tranferred in January of sophmore year. What the hell are you smoking?" and then you'll be like "Oh man, that's so funny. I don't even know who I was with that night. Hey did you catch the Gilmore Girls marathon last weekend?" and Joe can say "Hell yeah I did, I love the Gilmore Girls!" You know, stretch it out over a couple of days. It's like email.
Hopefully by this time the author of the site will have checked in, and maybe even left a coment like "um, hi, hello, do I know you? what's going on?"
This is such a good idea.
-t
Pick a blog. Preferably one that gets updated or checked by the author once or twice a week. Not one that is written by a computer/blog-savy webmaster because they'll end this little game real quick. And don't pick anybody famous, (you know, "famous") because this will be more exciting if the author doesn't have a big following.
Leave messages for a friend of yours in the comment section, then, have the friend respond.
Entire conversations between you two people in the comments on a post.
You could try themes! For example, the post is about taking the dog to the vet, but mentions a trip to the farm that happened last week. Your comment could be "Joe, I totally know you thought about that time we went cow tipping at the Daisy Dairy farm Halloween sophmore year when you read that. Man we were so wasted that night." then Joe responds with something like "We never went cow tipping. I tranferred in January of sophmore year. What the hell are you smoking?" and then you'll be like "Oh man, that's so funny. I don't even know who I was with that night. Hey did you catch the Gilmore Girls marathon last weekend?" and Joe can say "Hell yeah I did, I love the Gilmore Girls!" You know, stretch it out over a couple of days. It's like email.
Hopefully by this time the author of the site will have checked in, and maybe even left a coment like "um, hi, hello, do I know you? what's going on?"
This is such a good idea.
-t
Tweedle Dee
People make mistakes. Happens all the time. But, in a job where you’re dealing with numbers and deadlines then pretty much the whole basis for success is making as few mistakes as possible. We’re talking addition and subtraction and multiplication.
The funds I work on pay interest, usually monthly. Out system calculates what we should be paid, then, we compare that number to what we were actually paid. When there’s a difference it’s my job to figure out why and what, if anything, needs adjustment. The calculation is pretty basic: Daily interest = number of shares * rate / 365 days. And we have calculators.
So really, the job comes down to making sure you punch in the right number on this machine that does all the work for you.
I’m sure people make mistakes. Typing “742.00” instead of “472.00,” that’s reversing digits. But, the nice thing about math in the base-10 system is that if you reverse digits in addition the difference between the correct answer, and your incorrect answer will be divisible by nine.
Try it: One hundred forty-five minus seventy-eight
145 – 78 = 67
If you’d inadvertently reversed the one and the four you’d get:
415 – 78 = 337
Common sense would tell you three hundred something is too high an answer, and check this out:
337 - 67 = 270 which is divisible by nine. Cute, huh?
Anyway. Anyone who graduated seventh grade should be able to handle these calculations, even you public school kids. After two days here you’d be picking up mistakes if they were hundreds of thousands of dollars off, after a week you’d be good enough to spot them down to a ten thousandth of a percent. (That’s 0.01124578 vs. 0.01125478)
So here is an email I just got from the stupid new guy (the other stupid new guy) who took over for the pretty girl on the other side of the floor:
From: Tweedle Dee
To: Me
Subject: Just a few small adjustments
Treasury Fund
Rogers County Tri Party Repo
Expected Paid Difference Reason
330,916.67 330500.00 916.67 Rogers Tri Party
Thanks,
Zach
Can you spot the mistake?
A college graduate. With a calculator. For crying out loud. He is as dumb as a rock. And the other one is as dumb as a bag of hammers.
I hate the new guys. Tweedle Dee, and Tweedle Bag o’ hammers.
argh.
-tgme
The funds I work on pay interest, usually monthly. Out system calculates what we should be paid, then, we compare that number to what we were actually paid. When there’s a difference it’s my job to figure out why and what, if anything, needs adjustment. The calculation is pretty basic: Daily interest = number of shares * rate / 365 days. And we have calculators.
So really, the job comes down to making sure you punch in the right number on this machine that does all the work for you.
I’m sure people make mistakes. Typing “742.00” instead of “472.00,” that’s reversing digits. But, the nice thing about math in the base-10 system is that if you reverse digits in addition the difference between the correct answer, and your incorrect answer will be divisible by nine.
Try it: One hundred forty-five minus seventy-eight
145 – 78 = 67
If you’d inadvertently reversed the one and the four you’d get:
415 – 78 = 337
Common sense would tell you three hundred something is too high an answer, and check this out:
337 - 67 = 270 which is divisible by nine. Cute, huh?
Anyway. Anyone who graduated seventh grade should be able to handle these calculations, even you public school kids. After two days here you’d be picking up mistakes if they were hundreds of thousands of dollars off, after a week you’d be good enough to spot them down to a ten thousandth of a percent. (That’s 0.01124578 vs. 0.01125478)
So here is an email I just got from the stupid new guy (the other stupid new guy) who took over for the pretty girl on the other side of the floor:
From: Tweedle Dee
To: Me
Subject: Just a few small adjustments
Treasury Fund
Rogers County Tri Party Repo
Expected Paid Difference Reason
330,916.67 330500.00 916.67 Rogers Tri Party
Thanks,
Zach
Can you spot the mistake?
A college graduate. With a calculator. For crying out loud. He is as dumb as a rock. And the other one is as dumb as a bag of hammers.
I hate the new guys. Tweedle Dee, and Tweedle Bag o’ hammers.
argh.
-tgme
Tweedle Dum
Now, “hate” is a word I toss around freely. I hate lots of stuff. I hate books that suck but are popular and best-sellers anyway (davinci code), I hate sappy tv shows (extreme makeover home edition), I even hate entire television networks (lifetime).
But I really hate the new guy.
When I started I had a lot of free time. I would sometimes sit at my desk for four hours at a time with nothing to do. I started a blog. What I did not do was walk around telling anyone I met that I had four hours of free time at a stretch. I especially didn’t start talking to people if I didn’t know who they were, and how high up they were on the corporate ladder.
Not this new guy though. He’s got no compunctions about that at all. Not one. He will talk to anybody, and does. For example: Friday, on the booze cruise, I was talking to a group of managers and senior managers on the boat. A few of them were a little drunk, a few of them were telling stories about other senior managers that really should not have been repeated. The new guy walks up. He starts talking about the four hours of free time he has a day, about how he can handle seven or eight more funds, wondering why they don’t fire half of the people in the department, and just double the workload for the half they keep. After all, he’s still have two hours of free time a day, right?
Now, I may be naïve, but I’m not stupid. I had four hours of free time and I figured, suspected, thought that maybe, as I was there longer, I’d get more to do. Which is exactly what happened. After two months I was working on a whole bunch of funds, and had much less free time. This new guy, though, he’s stupid. He didn’t ask who people were, he didn’t wonder if he was talking to “important people,” he didn’t wonder if talking about all his free time would make the group look bad, like we aren’t giving him enough work, or that we don’t know how to train people. He just started talking. So now there are “important” people who think my group doesn’t know what it’s doing. Which, in a way, is true. Because if we’re hiring stupid people we’re doing something wrong.
Today the manager of another group was walking past the new guy’s cubicle. The manager was carrying a toothbrush and toothpaste.
Stop. Think: Why would someone be carrying a toothbrush and toothpaste? Take your time. No hurry.
If you guessed “because he was brushing his teeth” you’d be right! Congratulations. Now pick door number one or number two.
The new guy asked what the toothbrush was for, no kidding.
[NG] Why do you have a toothbrush?
[Man.] I just brushed my teeth.
[NG] Oh, do you always brush your teeth?
[Man.] Yes. That’s why I keep a toothbrush here in the office.
[NG] Oh. So it’s not just for today.
[Man.] …No.
Maybe it’s because he’s from Vermont. Maybe it’s because he just rejects this perception of reality, and is working from a whole different perspective.
But I think it’s because he’s just stupid.
Also, one of the girls in the group thinks the new guy is gay, and that he has a thing for me.
-t
But I really hate the new guy.
When I started I had a lot of free time. I would sometimes sit at my desk for four hours at a time with nothing to do. I started a blog. What I did not do was walk around telling anyone I met that I had four hours of free time at a stretch. I especially didn’t start talking to people if I didn’t know who they were, and how high up they were on the corporate ladder.
Not this new guy though. He’s got no compunctions about that at all. Not one. He will talk to anybody, and does. For example: Friday, on the booze cruise, I was talking to a group of managers and senior managers on the boat. A few of them were a little drunk, a few of them were telling stories about other senior managers that really should not have been repeated. The new guy walks up. He starts talking about the four hours of free time he has a day, about how he can handle seven or eight more funds, wondering why they don’t fire half of the people in the department, and just double the workload for the half they keep. After all, he’s still have two hours of free time a day, right?
Now, I may be naïve, but I’m not stupid. I had four hours of free time and I figured, suspected, thought that maybe, as I was there longer, I’d get more to do. Which is exactly what happened. After two months I was working on a whole bunch of funds, and had much less free time. This new guy, though, he’s stupid. He didn’t ask who people were, he didn’t wonder if he was talking to “important people,” he didn’t wonder if talking about all his free time would make the group look bad, like we aren’t giving him enough work, or that we don’t know how to train people. He just started talking. So now there are “important” people who think my group doesn’t know what it’s doing. Which, in a way, is true. Because if we’re hiring stupid people we’re doing something wrong.
Today the manager of another group was walking past the new guy’s cubicle. The manager was carrying a toothbrush and toothpaste.
Stop. Think: Why would someone be carrying a toothbrush and toothpaste? Take your time. No hurry.
If you guessed “because he was brushing his teeth” you’d be right! Congratulations. Now pick door number one or number two.
The new guy asked what the toothbrush was for, no kidding.
[NG] Why do you have a toothbrush?
[Man.] I just brushed my teeth.
[NG] Oh, do you always brush your teeth?
[Man.] Yes. That’s why I keep a toothbrush here in the office.
[NG] Oh. So it’s not just for today.
[Man.] …No.
Maybe it’s because he’s from Vermont. Maybe it’s because he just rejects this perception of reality, and is working from a whole different perspective.
But I think it’s because he’s just stupid.
Also, one of the girls in the group thinks the new guy is gay, and that he has a thing for me.
-t
Olfactory Assault
I’ve only been here fifteen minutes and already have something to post about. (This is a sure sign that I will be ever-productive and get loads of work done today.)
My eyes are watering. I read somewhere that a human’s sense of smell is at its peak between the ages of fifteen and twenty. So I’m pretty glad I’ve left those years behind me, because I would not want to be smelling these smells with peak olfactory awareness.
It started when I got off the train: Pungent odors, all around. Really, disgusting smells wafting around the station. Some of the other commuters voiced their disgust. Then I walked past a fruit stand and was hit with the smell of rotting fruit. Then past that alley, and I don’t even want to try and identify what smells were coming from there, because that might be the only thing worse than actually smelling them. Then I got into the building, and there’s some sour smell in the air, like maybe someone left a carton of cream in the refrigerator past its expiration.
This has so far not been a pleasant morning for my nose.
-t
recommended download:
AC/DC, Heat Seeker
[p.s. I’ve got another post about tooth-brushing, don’t let me forget, and also one about making mistakes…]
My eyes are watering. I read somewhere that a human’s sense of smell is at its peak between the ages of fifteen and twenty. So I’m pretty glad I’ve left those years behind me, because I would not want to be smelling these smells with peak olfactory awareness.
It started when I got off the train: Pungent odors, all around. Really, disgusting smells wafting around the station. Some of the other commuters voiced their disgust. Then I walked past a fruit stand and was hit with the smell of rotting fruit. Then past that alley, and I don’t even want to try and identify what smells were coming from there, because that might be the only thing worse than actually smelling them. Then I got into the building, and there’s some sour smell in the air, like maybe someone left a carton of cream in the refrigerator past its expiration.
This has so far not been a pleasant morning for my nose.
-t
recommended download:
AC/DC, Heat Seeker
[p.s. I’ve got another post about tooth-brushing, don’t let me forget, and also one about making mistakes…]
Monday, September 12, 2005
Booze Cruise Review, or Why I Wish I Were A Stronger Swimmer
Funds finished for the day my manager (the one who set up the whole booze cruise), the kid that I hate, and a few other managers left work and headed over to a bar near the harbor to kill some time and watch some of the Red Sox game before the boat left.
The Sox took the lead in the early innings, and despite being in a group that included the kid I hate and the oafish manager who might be dating the pretty girl, I was having a decent time. I think drinking Sam Adams and watching the Red Sox had a lot to do with me not hating every living thing in the bar that night.
So eight o’clock rolls around and we all head over to the boat. It is, without question, the most un-seaworthy craft ever set afloat in Boston Harbor, including the crates of East India’s finest dumped overboard during the Boston Tea Party. The “boat” was small, rusty, old, noisy, and unsteady. The air horn, which normally sounds a long blast before departure, sputtered and coughed in two attempts, and then died. I’m not going to talk about the restrooms. I’m not going to talk about the crew. I’m not going to mention the way the propellers groaned at every revolution. I will say I probably could have piloted a cast iron bathtub better than this tub ran.
The band started to play as soon as we left the dock. I don’t want to talk about the band. I don’t like insulting anyone who gets up on stage to perform. Even if they deserve it.
The bar sucked. Two teenage kids during probably their last weekend of a summer job handed out twelve ounce cans of Miller Lite or half liter bottles of Mike’s Hard Lemonade for five and six dollars respectively. If I’d stayed at the bar onshore I could have continued drinking Sam Adams for three-fifty a pint.
Traditionally, land-based drinking with the office can be fun. There is a possibility that getting coworkers drunk will provide an enjoyable evening. You hear stories that shouldn’t be told, you hear drunken confessions, sometimes people dance. There are three groups of people that show up at these bar nights. First, the group that only goes because it’s a work thing. These folks may not even order a drink. They just want to make an appearance so their managers won’t bug them the next day, and catch a train home. Second, there are the wild drunks. These folks are out every night anyway, drinking and carousing, so of course they’re out. The third group is everybody in the middle. They show up, if it’s a good time they’ll stick around, and if it’s lame, they leave.
The biggest problem about a booze cruise is this: If it’s lame, you can’t leave. And, much to my dismay, Friday night’s booze cruise, was L-A-M-E.
If I weren’t such an optimist, if I’d been just a little more cynical, I would have thought to myself “Shit, look at this boat, this boat is a dump. These people are all losers. These drinks suck, and are overpriced. Fuck it. I’ll eat the ticket cost, and just get off the damn boat before it leaves.” But no, alas, poor readers, I did no such thing. Instead I spent the night trapped on a floating piece of rusted metal not drinking overpriced beer and trying my best to not listen to the crappy band, and not thinking about punching every other guy there in the face.
I got off that boat two hours later fuming. I stalked around the city. From the harbor up through Government Center, back down through the financial district, and then down Beacon st. to Kenmore. Angry because I’d wasted an entire night in the worst way open to me. Angry because I had to spend the night talking to an AVP and his administrative secretary from some other floor because they were the only two not trying to make out with me by the end of the night. Everyone else was drunk. Everyone else was trying to hook up with anybody else. But, mostly, I was pissed at myself for getting duped into this.
Never again.
-t
Recommended downloads:
Oasis, Part Of The Queue
And
Bowling For Soup, The Worst Day Ever
The Sox took the lead in the early innings, and despite being in a group that included the kid I hate and the oafish manager who might be dating the pretty girl, I was having a decent time. I think drinking Sam Adams and watching the Red Sox had a lot to do with me not hating every living thing in the bar that night.
So eight o’clock rolls around and we all head over to the boat. It is, without question, the most un-seaworthy craft ever set afloat in Boston Harbor, including the crates of East India’s finest dumped overboard during the Boston Tea Party. The “boat” was small, rusty, old, noisy, and unsteady. The air horn, which normally sounds a long blast before departure, sputtered and coughed in two attempts, and then died. I’m not going to talk about the restrooms. I’m not going to talk about the crew. I’m not going to mention the way the propellers groaned at every revolution. I will say I probably could have piloted a cast iron bathtub better than this tub ran.
The band started to play as soon as we left the dock. I don’t want to talk about the band. I don’t like insulting anyone who gets up on stage to perform. Even if they deserve it.
The bar sucked. Two teenage kids during probably their last weekend of a summer job handed out twelve ounce cans of Miller Lite or half liter bottles of Mike’s Hard Lemonade for five and six dollars respectively. If I’d stayed at the bar onshore I could have continued drinking Sam Adams for three-fifty a pint.
Traditionally, land-based drinking with the office can be fun. There is a possibility that getting coworkers drunk will provide an enjoyable evening. You hear stories that shouldn’t be told, you hear drunken confessions, sometimes people dance. There are three groups of people that show up at these bar nights. First, the group that only goes because it’s a work thing. These folks may not even order a drink. They just want to make an appearance so their managers won’t bug them the next day, and catch a train home. Second, there are the wild drunks. These folks are out every night anyway, drinking and carousing, so of course they’re out. The third group is everybody in the middle. They show up, if it’s a good time they’ll stick around, and if it’s lame, they leave.
The biggest problem about a booze cruise is this: If it’s lame, you can’t leave. And, much to my dismay, Friday night’s booze cruise, was L-A-M-E.
If I weren’t such an optimist, if I’d been just a little more cynical, I would have thought to myself “Shit, look at this boat, this boat is a dump. These people are all losers. These drinks suck, and are overpriced. Fuck it. I’ll eat the ticket cost, and just get off the damn boat before it leaves.” But no, alas, poor readers, I did no such thing. Instead I spent the night trapped on a floating piece of rusted metal not drinking overpriced beer and trying my best to not listen to the crappy band, and not thinking about punching every other guy there in the face.
I got off that boat two hours later fuming. I stalked around the city. From the harbor up through Government Center, back down through the financial district, and then down Beacon st. to Kenmore. Angry because I’d wasted an entire night in the worst way open to me. Angry because I had to spend the night talking to an AVP and his administrative secretary from some other floor because they were the only two not trying to make out with me by the end of the night. Everyone else was drunk. Everyone else was trying to hook up with anybody else. But, mostly, I was pissed at myself for getting duped into this.
Never again.
-t
Recommended downloads:
Oasis, Part Of The Queue
And
Bowling For Soup, The Worst Day Ever
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Santa Fe
Newsies is my favorite movie from childhood. But actually it's not. Because I was probably eighteen when I saw it for the first time.
So it's my "if I'd've seen this as a kid it would have been my favorite kids movie" movie.
I mention it because I just got Newsies on dvd. And because I just downloaded the soundtrack and have been singing along with my iPod on the train.
Ain't I pretty? It's my city...
-tgme
recommended download:
your guess is as good as mine
So it's my "if I'd've seen this as a kid it would have been my favorite kids movie" movie.
I mention it because I just got Newsies on dvd. And because I just downloaded the soundtrack and have been singing along with my iPod on the train.
Ain't I pretty? It's my city...
-tgme
recommended download:
your guess is as good as mine
Friday, September 09, 2005
Excite
Excitebike was the coolest video game of its time. I'm just throwing that out there. Don't get me wrong, there were lots of cool NES games, and you could probably name some of them (Blades of Steel, Contra, Kid Icarus, etc), but Excitebike was hands down the coolest.
NES took motocross and put it in the hands of countless twelve and thirteen year-olds throughout the world. It was that era's Tony Hawk Pro Skater. Sure maybe no motocross rider had achieved world-wide fame and renown, maybe none of those guys were recognized more easily than The Hamburglar, but it was an extreme sport on the fringes of mainstream media, and NES gave it a home.
And why was it so cool? Because you could design YOUR OWN TRACK. The first (that I remember anyway) game that was customizable. Now you can get Madden '06, run the ownership mode, build your own roster, stadium, and even control what concessions get sold. Excitebike was the first step. Hells yeah.
Speaking of video games, there are two items to note:
1. I got MVP Baseball 2005 for Xbox last night. I haven't played (and probably won't until the season is over) but I plan on building a franchise from the ground up and winning the world series. I'm thinking about buying the Kansas City Royals.
2. The Boston Globe online is running a series of fake articles about the greatest video game ever. They've narrowed all the video games in the history of the world down to Punchout and NHL '94. I'd like to hear some thoughts on this. First, which is better? Second, what's really the greatest video game of all time. Third, why wasn't your answer to the previous question "Tony Hawk's Pro Skater for N64"?
Don't knock 'em. Video games promote problem solving skills, increase motor-skills, especially hand-eye coordination, and can help you become a crack shot at resucing hostages (right Ray?). Video games rule.
-t
recommended download:
Transylvania II, Simon's Quest Theme, rock remix
NES took motocross and put it in the hands of countless twelve and thirteen year-olds throughout the world. It was that era's Tony Hawk Pro Skater. Sure maybe no motocross rider had achieved world-wide fame and renown, maybe none of those guys were recognized more easily than The Hamburglar, but it was an extreme sport on the fringes of mainstream media, and NES gave it a home.
And why was it so cool? Because you could design YOUR OWN TRACK. The first (that I remember anyway) game that was customizable. Now you can get Madden '06, run the ownership mode, build your own roster, stadium, and even control what concessions get sold. Excitebike was the first step. Hells yeah.
Speaking of video games, there are two items to note:
1. I got MVP Baseball 2005 for Xbox last night. I haven't played (and probably won't until the season is over) but I plan on building a franchise from the ground up and winning the world series. I'm thinking about buying the Kansas City Royals.
2. The Boston Globe online is running a series of fake articles about the greatest video game ever. They've narrowed all the video games in the history of the world down to Punchout and NHL '94. I'd like to hear some thoughts on this. First, which is better? Second, what's really the greatest video game of all time. Third, why wasn't your answer to the previous question "Tony Hawk's Pro Skater for N64"?
Don't knock 'em. Video games promote problem solving skills, increase motor-skills, especially hand-eye coordination, and can help you become a crack shot at resucing hostages (right Ray?). Video games rule.
-t
recommended download:
Transylvania II, Simon's Quest Theme, rock remix
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Adina skimmed the previous post
Ok, so Agassi's tremendous performance at the US Open wasn't the only thing keeping my up last night. I also had two cups of coffee and a bottle of mountain dew at like eleven. So I was pretty hyped up on caffeine too.
That didn't help me fall asleep any faster, and might have had something to do with the voices. Yeah, voices. In my head. Jabbering on and on, there were probably ten different ones, mostly women, and I couldn't understand what was being said because they were all talking at once. I caught a few words hear and there, but not much else. They weren't fighting or talking over each other either, they were just all talking at once.
Also, thoughts about whether or not I'll ever see "you know who" again. And thoughts about who "you know who" actually is. Because I still don't know (cough, adina, cough). And a few thoughts about if I'll ever see "nose girl" online again ever. Lots of thoughts.
-t
recommended download:
Pearl Jam, Wishlist
That didn't help me fall asleep any faster, and might have had something to do with the voices. Yeah, voices. In my head. Jabbering on and on, there were probably ten different ones, mostly women, and I couldn't understand what was being said because they were all talking at once. I caught a few words hear and there, but not much else. They weren't fighting or talking over each other either, they were just all talking at once.
Also, thoughts about whether or not I'll ever see "you know who" again. And thoughts about who "you know who" actually is. Because I still don't know (cough, adina, cough). And a few thoughts about if I'll ever see "nose girl" online again ever. Lots of thoughts.
-t
recommended download:
Pearl Jam, Wishlist
Up all night
Last night I stayed up to watch Andre Agassi's US Open quarter final match. And I am glad I did. He's thirty-five years old. He's got a bum leg. He missed Wimbeldon this year, and has been working his way back to form since.
Last night he went down two sets to none 3-6, 3-6 and then he started coming back. His opponent, Blake, an unranked American, was younger and fitter. Agassi won the next two sets 6-3, 6-3 with resolve, patience and a few, perfect, game-saving shots. They entered the last frame two sets apiece.
Blake immediately took control. The long match was wearing on Agassi, everyone in the Ashe Stadium could see it, and he went down 3-2 and came back to tie it at 4-4. Then Blake got a chance to win it when he went up 5-4. Agassi came back 6-5. Blake tied it.
The tie-breaker went to eight points, back and forth until Agassi finally got his two in a row to end it. The match took fifty-one minutes.
It was a phenomenal performance. I've been rooting for Agassi, who remains the highest ranked American in the tounrament, since the begining, but this is the first time I'd seen him play. After the match Blake told Agassi "It couldn't have been more fun to lose."
And that's why I didn't get much sleep last night.
-t
Last night he went down two sets to none 3-6, 3-6 and then he started coming back. His opponent, Blake, an unranked American, was younger and fitter. Agassi won the next two sets 6-3, 6-3 with resolve, patience and a few, perfect, game-saving shots. They entered the last frame two sets apiece.
Blake immediately took control. The long match was wearing on Agassi, everyone in the Ashe Stadium could see it, and he went down 3-2 and came back to tie it at 4-4. Then Blake got a chance to win it when he went up 5-4. Agassi came back 6-5. Blake tied it.
The tie-breaker went to eight points, back and forth until Agassi finally got his two in a row to end it. The match took fifty-one minutes.
It was a phenomenal performance. I've been rooting for Agassi, who remains the highest ranked American in the tounrament, since the begining, but this is the first time I'd seen him play. After the match Blake told Agassi "It couldn't have been more fun to lose."
And that's why I didn't get much sleep last night.
-t
Show me, Show me, Show me
This is the coolest thing since sliced iPods: The iPod nano. Nice, huh?
A little later one, if I can find the time I'm going to post something about how I haven't been getting any sleep. No one's fault but my own. But for right now, I'm just in a pretty good mood. Thinking about The Cure, thinking about tiny iPods, and thinking about interest problems that I've solved in the first half hour after showing up today.
-t
recommended download:
The Cure, Just Like Heaven
A little later one, if I can find the time I'm going to post something about how I haven't been getting any sleep. No one's fault but my own. But for right now, I'm just in a pretty good mood. Thinking about The Cure, thinking about tiny iPods, and thinking about interest problems that I've solved in the first half hour after showing up today.
-t
recommended download:
The Cure, Just Like Heaven
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
What to post when your mind fails:
So I had this really great post, and I totally forgot what it was. So I sat here for like three hours hoping it would come back to me. And it hasn't.
Then it occurred to me to post something about work, since, after all, I'm sitting here not doing any. Hence:
BOAT TRIP! or, as some prefer BOOZE CRUISE!
We're going out to get sloshed with the office again. And boy am I excited. Because this time, it's on a boat.
My manager set up the whole thing. He was all "the company should pay for a booze cruise" and somebody else was like, "just set it up and then go to the VP and be like, here, it's set up, now pay for it, and they will" and they did. I'm sometimes amazed how efficient corporate america can be (when it comes to drinking, obviously, not to any other stuff).
But the big news is that I got a look at the ticket request sheet. And I can tell you two things. First, that the oafish manager that I think is dating the pretty girl is going.
Second, that the pretty girl requested a ticket for herself, plus one. Plus one.
Now, there are a few conclusions, or suppositions, that can be drawn from that. We can base one conclusion on my earlier assumption that oaf manager and the pretty girl are going out: They requested three tickets for two people because they can't count. Or, we can infer, from the number of tickets purchased that the pretty girl has someone she'd like to bring on the booze cruise who doesn't work here, and thus couldn't get their own ticket. And who might that be?
Currently in the running are
a) a roommate. it's possible she likes to hang out/party with her roommates, maybe one who likes the water. maybe she's bringing the roommate along to introduce her to a guy at work, maybe the pretty girl is playing matchmaker...
or
b) a boyfriend. maybe she's dating someone who isn't the oafish manager. that would make my day. and also ruin my day a little bit, because, hey, what about me? right? but, maybe she's bringing the boyfriend so when drunken coworkers come up to her and say things like "hey, I would like to ask you out" she can say "oh, but I have a boyfriend now. and here he is." and then have the boyfriend show up and maybe throw the coworker overboard.
I'm just saying, it's a possibility.
Not that it's a big deal, the pretty girl and me? Probably won't ever happen. Nevermind that I may or may not be hung up on some other girl now, who I may or may not have been hung up way back before too. But let's focus here. This isn't about the girl I happen to have a crush on right at this moment in time and whether or not I'll get up the guts to ask her out. It's not about that. This is about the pretty girl possibly not dating the oafish manager who douses himself in Old Spice. ok, ok, I can't go on. or this would turn into a rant.
-t
recommended download:
Oasis, The Importance of Being Idle, and Part of the Queue
Then it occurred to me to post something about work, since, after all, I'm sitting here not doing any. Hence:
BOAT TRIP! or, as some prefer BOOZE CRUISE!
We're going out to get sloshed with the office again. And boy am I excited. Because this time, it's on a boat.
My manager set up the whole thing. He was all "the company should pay for a booze cruise" and somebody else was like, "just set it up and then go to the VP and be like, here, it's set up, now pay for it, and they will" and they did. I'm sometimes amazed how efficient corporate america can be (when it comes to drinking, obviously, not to any other stuff).
But the big news is that I got a look at the ticket request sheet. And I can tell you two things. First, that the oafish manager that I think is dating the pretty girl is going.
Second, that the pretty girl requested a ticket for herself, plus one. Plus one.
Now, there are a few conclusions, or suppositions, that can be drawn from that. We can base one conclusion on my earlier assumption that oaf manager and the pretty girl are going out: They requested three tickets for two people because they can't count. Or, we can infer, from the number of tickets purchased that the pretty girl has someone she'd like to bring on the booze cruise who doesn't work here, and thus couldn't get their own ticket. And who might that be?
Currently in the running are
a) a roommate. it's possible she likes to hang out/party with her roommates, maybe one who likes the water. maybe she's bringing the roommate along to introduce her to a guy at work, maybe the pretty girl is playing matchmaker...
or
b) a boyfriend. maybe she's dating someone who isn't the oafish manager. that would make my day. and also ruin my day a little bit, because, hey, what about me? right? but, maybe she's bringing the boyfriend so when drunken coworkers come up to her and say things like "hey, I would like to ask you out" she can say "oh, but I have a boyfriend now. and here he is." and then have the boyfriend show up and maybe throw the coworker overboard.
I'm just saying, it's a possibility.
Not that it's a big deal, the pretty girl and me? Probably won't ever happen. Nevermind that I may or may not be hung up on some other girl now, who I may or may not have been hung up way back before too. But let's focus here. This isn't about the girl I happen to have a crush on right at this moment in time and whether or not I'll get up the guts to ask her out. It's not about that. This is about the pretty girl possibly not dating the oafish manager who douses himself in Old Spice. ok, ok, I can't go on. or this would turn into a rant.
-t
recommended download:
Oasis, The Importance of Being Idle, and Part of the Queue
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Fake Tuesday
I had no idea today was "fake monday." Then, three minutes ago, as I was leaving work (ha, leaving work that early? no way, jake), I read two different blogs referencing "fake monday." Ok, one blog, and one comment on this blog.
The point is: I had no idea it was a fake monday. I tell you, my interactions would have been much different today if I'd known. Instead I approached today like any other tuesday, albeit with a grumpy attitude due to lack of sleep.
So tomorrow? Fake Tuesday. So at least I can get one fake day in this workweek. I hate feeling left out.
cascadingly yours,
tom
recommended download:
Dispatch, Open Up
The point is: I had no idea it was a fake monday. I tell you, my interactions would have been much different today if I'd known. Instead I approached today like any other tuesday, albeit with a grumpy attitude due to lack of sleep.
So tomorrow? Fake Tuesday. So at least I can get one fake day in this workweek. I hate feeling left out.
cascadingly yours,
tom
recommended download:
Dispatch, Open Up
Erasmus
Augh! I bought more books.
I just wanted to kill some time! I just wanted to be anywhere but at my desk for a little while! So I walked over to Barnes & Noble. Because it's close. And it's not my desk. And I like books.
AND I BOUGHT MORE BOOKS.
"When I get a little money, I buy books. And if there is any left over, I make car payments, or make student loans payments, or buy food!" (paraphrased from Erasmus)
I have learned some new things
Fact: I am going to run out of money before I run out of things to read.
Fact: I don't care.
-t
I just wanted to kill some time! I just wanted to be anywhere but at my desk for a little while! So I walked over to Barnes & Noble. Because it's close. And it's not my desk. And I like books.
AND I BOUGHT MORE BOOKS.
"When I get a little money, I buy books. And if there is any left over, I make car payments, or make student loans payments, or buy food!" (paraphrased from Erasmus)
I have learned some new things
Fact: I am going to run out of money before I run out of things to read.
Fact: I don't care.
-t
I hate teaching
This promotion has made me a bad worker. I am a bad employee. That's never happened before (except for that one summer I worked at the movie place, but it was a movie place for crying out loud, they expect lousy employees, I was just trying to live up (down) to their expectations).
My job for right now is, basically, teaching the basics to the new people. The new people are all stupid. I just don't want to do it. Also, I haven't been getting lots of sleep lately. And I can get a little short when I'm tired.
So the bad attitude doesn't help me convey knowledge of the inner workings of budgets (half of which I don't have a grasp on yet, which makes it loads easier to teach...not). I have been here for four hours today and I've berated six different coworkers, which, sure, makes me feel better because misery loves company, but probably isn't doing much for morale.
I've also started to whine on my blog. Whine Whine Whine. I'd guess this is driving readers away, because, man, I know I hate reading whiny blogs (cough, john, cough cough). (ok, ok, that was a cheap shot. (cough, adina, cough)).
Have you seen that coffee commercial where everybody's having a bad morning, the lady throws away the smiley face button, the other lady sprays the paperboy with the hose, the guy knocks over a stack of files? Great commercial. I laugh every time that stupid paperboy falls off his bike.
Fuck budgets, man. And fuck teaching. This would be different, mark my words, if I had a full night's rest and a full grasp of the subject. But no. It's not like I'm trying to teach high school algebra, geometry, or calculus here (which I can do), no, this is like the legally blind leading the stupid.
I really hate stupid people. And working. Stupid job. Stupid money. Stupid pilgrims.
-t
recommended download:
Oasis, The Importance of Being Idle
My job for right now is, basically, teaching the basics to the new people. The new people are all stupid. I just don't want to do it. Also, I haven't been getting lots of sleep lately. And I can get a little short when I'm tired.
So the bad attitude doesn't help me convey knowledge of the inner workings of budgets (half of which I don't have a grasp on yet, which makes it loads easier to teach...not). I have been here for four hours today and I've berated six different coworkers, which, sure, makes me feel better because misery loves company, but probably isn't doing much for morale.
I've also started to whine on my blog. Whine Whine Whine. I'd guess this is driving readers away, because, man, I know I hate reading whiny blogs (cough, john, cough cough). (ok, ok, that was a cheap shot. (cough, adina, cough)).
Have you seen that coffee commercial where everybody's having a bad morning, the lady throws away the smiley face button, the other lady sprays the paperboy with the hose, the guy knocks over a stack of files? Great commercial. I laugh every time that stupid paperboy falls off his bike.
Fuck budgets, man. And fuck teaching. This would be different, mark my words, if I had a full night's rest and a full grasp of the subject. But no. It's not like I'm trying to teach high school algebra, geometry, or calculus here (which I can do), no, this is like the legally blind leading the stupid.
I really hate stupid people. And working. Stupid job. Stupid money. Stupid pilgrims.
-t
recommended download:
Oasis, The Importance of Being Idle
Saturday, September 03, 2005
E.A.
Hi, my name is Tom.
And I'm addicted to ebay.
I can't believe this. It's outrageous. I had no idea I had a problem. But I do. I have a problem. I have a problem and its name is ebay.
Maybe things would have been different if they hadn't blocked it at work. Maybe I would have wasted paycheck after paycheck on frivolous items like L@@K 1983 MOC 3 3/4" GI JOE COBRA SNAKE EYES *NEW* NR!!!, maybe my friends would have staged an intervention. Maybe I wouldn't have spent sixty-two dollars and eighty-seven cents (shipping costs not included) in the last thirty one minutes.
I HAVE A PROBLEM.
I just blocked ebay. Here. On my home computer. I blocked it because the grand total of "items I'm winning" broke five hundred dollars. IN THIRTY-ONE MINUTES.
laptops, video games, action figures, star wars memorabilia, dvds, jewlery, watches, red sox memorabilia, baseball gloves...
I need help.
-t
recommended download (again):
Oasis, Part Of The Queue
And I'm addicted to ebay.
I can't believe this. It's outrageous. I had no idea I had a problem. But I do. I have a problem. I have a problem and its name is ebay.
Maybe things would have been different if they hadn't blocked it at work. Maybe I would have wasted paycheck after paycheck on frivolous items like L@@K 1983 MOC 3 3/4" GI JOE COBRA SNAKE EYES *NEW* NR!!!, maybe my friends would have staged an intervention. Maybe I wouldn't have spent sixty-two dollars and eighty-seven cents (shipping costs not included) in the last thirty one minutes.
I HAVE A PROBLEM.
I just blocked ebay. Here. On my home computer. I blocked it because the grand total of "items I'm winning" broke five hundred dollars. IN THIRTY-ONE MINUTES.
laptops, video games, action figures, star wars memorabilia, dvds, jewlery, watches, red sox memorabilia, baseball gloves...
I need help.
-t
recommended download (again):
Oasis, Part Of The Queue
Friday, September 02, 2005
Timing Is Everything
I enjoy free time. I especially enjoy free time at work. Mostly I use it to cruise around online (see: friends, romans, countrymen; see also: mightygoods, amazon, espn). And, like they say, “it’s not wasted time if you spend it wasted.”
Anyway, I take about an hour for lunch every day. Lately I’ve been missing a few lunch hours because hey, I got a new job with more responsibilities, and that’s how the cookie crumbles sometimes. But. On days when I do have a lighter work load and fewer responsibilities I try my best (which, yes, usually doesn’t mean much) to maximize my unstructured time.
So, here’s how it works: First, I identify a portion of the day when we won’t be particularly busy (on Fridays this portion of the day generally falls between 1:15PM and 2:00PM) That’s forty-five minutes of almost free time. Most managers in the group would use this “down time” to go get lunch. But not me. (maybe you see where I’m going here…)
Instead of taking a lunch break during the part of the day we wouldn’t be working anyway, I take my lunch break an hour before. This gives me the hour break to leave the building, find some sanity elsewhere, and grab some grub, plus it provides me with almost an hour of unstructured time when I get back (which I use to blog! bam!). In addition, the unstructured time for blogging is (as I mentioned) when other managers are at lunch so nobody is around to bug me either! It’s like bonus time. (woo)
I seriously have a hard time believing that they keep paying me to goof off. You all have a hard time believing that too, I’m sure.
Buh-BAM!
-tgme
recommended download:
Oasis, Part of the Queue
Anyway, I take about an hour for lunch every day. Lately I’ve been missing a few lunch hours because hey, I got a new job with more responsibilities, and that’s how the cookie crumbles sometimes. But. On days when I do have a lighter work load and fewer responsibilities I try my best (which, yes, usually doesn’t mean much) to maximize my unstructured time.
So, here’s how it works: First, I identify a portion of the day when we won’t be particularly busy (on Fridays this portion of the day generally falls between 1:15PM and 2:00PM) That’s forty-five minutes of almost free time. Most managers in the group would use this “down time” to go get lunch. But not me. (maybe you see where I’m going here…)
Instead of taking a lunch break during the part of the day we wouldn’t be working anyway, I take my lunch break an hour before. This gives me the hour break to leave the building, find some sanity elsewhere, and grab some grub, plus it provides me with almost an hour of unstructured time when I get back (which I use to blog! bam!). In addition, the unstructured time for blogging is (as I mentioned) when other managers are at lunch so nobody is around to bug me either! It’s like bonus time. (woo)
I seriously have a hard time believing that they keep paying me to goof off. You all have a hard time believing that too, I’m sure.
Buh-BAM!
-tgme
recommended download:
Oasis, Part of the Queue
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Well, that was about as hectic a morning as I've ever had...
So, to start off, let me tell you a few things about this week:
1. Month-end falls right in the middle of this week, and we get busy (not "get busy, Adina) around month end with budgets, reinvestments, expenses and other reports.
2. Our floor fund is being used to buy ice cream (a "sundae party") for the floor today.
3. Two of the new guys are holding their own (the smart new guy, and one of the dumb new guys in a come-from-behind surge).
4. However, the really dumb new guy and the new-guy-who-seemed-at-first-passable-but-since-then-hasn't-made-any-headway are bringing everybody down with them.
So, this morning. I had. To do.
1. Rates (one of my new responsibilities, it's easy, and usually quick
2. Yield reports (end of the month stuff, easy, and time consuming)
3. Help new guys with morning income (this is the stuff they should know how to do after two days here. It's been way more than two days and I'm shuffling between a guy as dumb as a rock and a guy as dumb as a bag of hammers)
4. Update fund info on the website. (this, takes, for..., ev..., er.)
All of these things should be done before noon, (and on a good day are done by eleven).
First, there were a few problems with rates, which took half an hour to track down
Then, there were problems with the printer, which meant problems printing the yield reports for month end
Then tweedle dum and tweedle bag o' hammers couldn't straighten out their income, and that took an hour and a half to fix
Then the fund info website crashed (twice) and so did my computer
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the insane Russian woman who works on the custody side of our funds calling me every fifteen minutes to process her reinvestment. [update: She just called again because she can't work a fax machine]
So, this morning. I had. To do.
1. Rates (one of my new responsibilities, it's easy, and usually quick
2. Yield reports (end of the month stuff, easy, and time consuming)
3. Help new guys with morning income (this is the stuff they should know how to do after two days here. It's been way more than two days and I'm shuffling between a guy as dumb as a rock and a guy as dumb as a bag of hammers)
4. Update fund info on the website. (this, takes, for..., ev..., er.)
All of these things should be done before noon, (and on a good day are done by eleven).
First, there were a few problems with rates, which took half an hour to track down
Then, there were problems with the printer, which meant problems printing the yield reports for month end
Then tweedle dum and tweedle bag o' hammers couldn't straighten out their income, and that took an hour and a half to fix
Then the fund info website crashed (twice) and so did my computer
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the insane Russian woman who works on the custody side of our funds calling me every fifteen minutes to process her reinvestment. [update: She just called again because she can't work a fax machine]
It took two phone calls to undertand why she was yelling at me, another two were needed to explain that she had to forward me her month-end spreadsheets before I could process anything, and another two insane Russian yelling phone calls just for good measure.
And all of this happened simultaneously.
I can work fast when problems crop up one at a time. Problem, solution. Bam. But, when all five (six?) of these things happened not only was I solving problems but also trying (valiantly) to deflect questions from the dumbsters and requests for progress updates from hypermanager.
I don't know if this font does it justice:
And all of this happened simultaneously.
I can work fast when problems crop up one at a time. Problem, solution. Bam. But, when all five (six?) of these things happened not only was I solving problems but also trying (valiantly) to deflect questions from the dumbsters and requests for progress updates from hypermanager.
I don't know if this font does it justice:
GAH.
Nope. Just imagine that about twelve times bigger suspended in a speech bubble over my head. Then imagine me bashing my head against my desk and then the phone against my head.
SO, everything is fixed (hence a small break to post, hi there readers), just in time to head over for the sundae party. And I'm sure you've all guessed: They ran out of ice cream.
-t
recommended download:
Oasis, Lyla
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)