Won't Go Home

I started this job about four months ago. For the majority of that time I've been trying to figure out what, exactly, is wrong with my coworkers.

Today I might have hit upon something important.

They have strange eating habits. They eat, like, all the time.

Ok, disclosure, it might be me with the weird eating habits, and they seem different only by comparison, but that's why you're here, to act as impartial arbiters. I'm so glad I started this blog.

Anyway. They eat all the time. Maybe I should give you a quick run down of my day, just so you know what I'm comparing them to:

Factors of Importance in Tom's Day-to-day Life:

Sleep - I have a deep affinity for sleep - perhaps a preternatural affinity. If given the opportunity I would sleep fourteen hours a day, unfortunately, work and prime time television conspire to limit me to around seven or eight hours a night. But, it's very important. So important, in fact, that I would rather sleep an extra fifteen minutes in the morning than sacrifice that time to wake earlier and eat breakfast or make a lunch. Ideally I could roll out of bed fully-dressed and showered and head out to work.

Food - In order of importance Food comes right behind Sleep. I miss breakfast sometimes, but almost never miss lunch, which I usually eat at about 12:30PM - or, about four and one-half hours after I wake up in the morning. I usually eat dinner near seven o'clock, or about six hours after lunch.

Money - If I were made of money I would never miss breakfast. In fact, I would probably have it catered. But, as I'm not made of money, on those days I do sleep late and skip breakfast I do wrestle with a choice once I get to work: buy a breakfast sandwich and coffee; or, not. It averages about fifty-fifty (though, due to recent heart palpitations, and a bout with "crazy eyes," I've been staying away from caffeine). On days I do grab something to eat it's usually near ten o'clock, which pushes lunch back an additional hour or so, because I don't like to crowd my meals.

Not Dealing With Stupid or Aggravating People - This is really outside my control. It's necessary to interact with people everyday, and there are a lot of stupid ones out there.


In general it's: Sleep a lot, work, eat lunch, work, go home, eat dinner, sleep.

So, to get back to the thing that I noticed this morning as I returned to work with my Dunkin' Donuts breakfast sandwich and (decaffeinated) coffee.

They eat all the time - constantly.

It bothered me from the beginning of my tenure here that my coworkers never left the office. They would come in early, they would work all day, and they would stay late - much later than I was willing to stay - every day, for no discernible reason.

"Don't they have homes?" I would think to myself? "Aren't they shelling out half of their paychecks for rent on a apartment in the city? If you're paying that much for a place to live, why wouldn't you want to spend time there?"

Because that's the thing: Not only did they not leave, they acted like they didn't want to leave!

And this is what I'm struggling to understand. Presumably these people have lives outside of work. Girlfriends, school friends, roommates, hobbies, whatever. Why spend more time in the office than necessary? The work isn't exciting, it isn't rewarding, it isn't fun. They seem to hate managers as much as anyone I've worked with in the past, it's not a sense of camaraderie. I don't get it.

So, rather than try and divine a solution to this problem, I've decided, instead, to observe, try and note discrepancies, oddities, and compile them, hopeful they'll add up to something that will unlock this mystery.

And today I noticed, that they eat, a lot.

I don't mean they eat large quantities of food. I mean they eat small quantities almost constantly.

I arrive in the morning, they're already here, some munching on energy or protein bars, some with enormous cups of coffee, some with breakfast cereal in bowls and spoons they brought in from home. This goes on for about an hour and a half.

Then it's lunchtime. Lunch! At ten-thirty! Sometimes as late as eleven! Crazy! Folks, I'm not even awake at ten-thirty, nevermind hungry for the second meal of the day!

They eat lunch. Some go out to local eateries (designated by the day of the week, "Qdoba Thursdays," "Wendy's Wednesdays")

Mid-afternoon, an hour or so after lunch they run out "for a snack." And down to 7-11 they go for Cracker Jack, or those gross taquitos things, or assorted Frito-Lay chips.

Then they start to eat dinner! Start.

They have Tupperware containers, or Ziploc containers, or Gladware containers full of chicken and rice, or spaghetti and meatballs, or turkey, peas, mashed potatoes and gravy.

And they eat a little of it, then reseal it, and put it back in the fridge for later.

It's now about four-thirty. They work for an hour, take their dinners out, heat them up, and keep working while they eat!

We're now at least an hour past quittin' time! They're just settling in!!Why????

I don't understand. I get up, eat three (ish) meals a day and want to get out of work as soon as humanly possible.

These guys, it's like they're camping out! GO HOME, YOU LOSERS!

-t

Seeking Direction

Hello, readers, I'd like to ask for your help.

What's the best way to get through, or around, New York City? Ideally I'd like to avoid all traffic at all costs.

Also, no low-clearance bridges, I'll be driving a moving truck.

I'm serious. If anyone suggests the George Washington Bridge I'll track you down myself, drag you there by your hair, and pitch you into the Hudson. (GWB crosses the Hudson, right?)

Seriously, help.


Thanks,
-t

a-Fortune

Raise your hand if you own an iPod. Raise your hand if you've ever heard of one.

iTunes? What about e-mail? Do any of you use e-mail?

What I'd like to know is, what will be the next lowercase vowel to start popping up all over our lives for no reason?

It started simply enough, electronic mail became e-mail. It's shorter, it makes sense, it's catchy.

Then, maybe it got a little out of hand - "e-" became the go-to prefix for the internet age: e-mail, ebay, evite, e-trade, e-surance and so on.

And then Steve Jobs came along with his flashy new vowel and suite of software: iMac, iPod, iTunes, iLife, iPhone...

Google's now getting in on the picture with their personalized google homepage, iGoogle.

Is it getting a little ridiculous? Yes. So ridiculous, in fact, that I forsee a shift coming. The i's are out. Time for a new vowel to step up.

Get ready for u-Blog, or aCar, and oBaby, or even y-Knot. (why not? y's a vowel!)

The real question is, who do I see about trademarking those last four vowel-hypens?

The licensing will be worth billions.

-t

Soft-toss

Company softball sixth game wrap-up:

Rained out.

Company softball seventh game wrap-up:

We won. (I know! How exciting! A win! U-S-A! U-S-S-R!... I-J-L!)

Anyway. We finally matched up with a team we can play with. No power hitters, no spectacular fielders, and a pitcher that I could hit.

Oh, right, did I mention? I was hitting the ball. I went 4-4 with three singles and a double, with 2 RBI and 2 runs scored.

Final score 25-16.

Team record 1-6

Season batting average: .460

-t

Apologetically,

Hi there, readers.

My rate of posting has declined steadily since hiring on here at my job. It's all my own fault, really. First, I gave up the frustration and funny anecdotes that came with stupid coworkers, then, I gave up the cavities, apathy, and inane posts spurred by total and utter boredom that came with free soft drinks, zero mangerial oversight, and absolutely nothing to do.

I gave it all up, for this. Look around you: emptiness. Fewer than one post per week!

Zilch.

I'd like to be better. To write a bit more. To create, to contentize, contribute. And maybe I will, maybe even in the near future.

But probably not, because I'm busy all the time here.

I process an endless stream of trades from 9AM until 5:15PM everyday, and sometimes leave the office for fifteen minutes at lunch.

I'd like some free time back. If I get it there will be a corresponding increase in rate of posts.

Until then, I will try and refrain, in my too-few updates, from writing too much about the Red Sox, my company softball team, or how busy I am at work.

But whatever. It's not like you all are updating that often either.

-t

Realtor Reality?

Realtors are getting to me. I'm currently looking for an apartment in the Boston area (at this point, anywhere in Greater Boston).

First on the list, Realtors-Who-Haven't-Seen-The-Apartment-Before-Showing-It-To-Renters

Case-in-point: Cliff, a realtor, arranged to show an apartment in Malden. Upon arrival he and I waited for ten minutes outside for the homeowner to show up and unlock it. As I inspected the place Cliff wandered around marvelling at the hard wood floors and enormous closets.

I'm glad you're happy with the apartment, Cliff, but you're not the one who'll be living here. Maybe you should worry about knowing things like how much it rents for, if there's laundry available, what the parking situation is, and what sort of deposit I'll be looking at.

Why are you showing an apartment you've never set foot in before? You're the realtor, you shouldn't be asking more questions than I am. You should find out before you show the apartment.

Second, Realtors-Who-Aren't-Really-Realtors-But-More-Like-Agents-For-Big-Complexes-And-Don't-Do-Any-Work-But-Are-Happy-To-Charge-A-Full-Fee-Anyway

Like...Donna, a realtor who set up an appointment to look at a 2br place near Malden square, and five minutes prior to the appointment called to cancel and instead suggested driving "just a little ways down Lebanon street," but left out the rest of the directions "all the way to a giant apartment complex on Route 1."

Upon arriving, and realizing we'd been duped, we were led into the administrative offices of the complex by Donna who introduced us to the property manager, and then promptly sat down to remain mute and immobile for the manager's entire 45 minute presentation and tour.

Thanks Donna, we could have dispensed with you entirely by placing a direct phone call.

Third, Realtors-Who-Seem-Very-Nice-Until-You-Realize-They're-Probably-Only-Acting-Helpful-Out-Of-A-Desire-To-Maliciously-Twist-The-Knife-Into-Unsuspecting-Renters

Like Maryanne, who was contacted via email about a lovely-looking duplex in Melrose and responded Sunday afternoon with an invitation to an open house that had taken place five hours earlier on Sunday morning.

Maryanne then sent a very thoughtful follow-up email on Monday afternoon which included details about the apartment and a plethora of new photos.

When I called Marryanne Monday after reading her email she said "Oh, I just rented that apartment this morning, sorry!"

Maryanne, if you had already rented the apartment then why did you bother sending us and email with photos?

That's not cool Maryanne.

Honorable mention? Realtors who show tiny 1br apartments with no parking or laundry after you've explicitly stated you're looking for a 2br with both.

-t

Not Exactly a World Takeover Bid, But Interesting None-the-less

I posted a few weeks ago about back room politics and lamented the disappearance of cigar-smoking power brokers secrectly controlling American government.

I got some heat in the comments, but why didn't anybody link to this article?

Surprise Party

which sounds like a viable alternative. Hell, I'm on board. The gist is this:

If you’ve worked in national politics at almost any point in the last forty years, chances are things got worse, not better, on your watch. That can gnaw at you.

A condemnation of the current state of affairs - I'm intrigued...

As the evening wore on, a sense of frustration pervaded the gathering, until finally Jordan exclaimed, “Why are you guys just writing a book? Can’t we do something about this? The country is in serious trouble here!” And then came the leap...

A third party. A real third party, done in a brand new way. Online.

resolved that it would operate on the Internet. That way everyone could join the party online and participate as a delegate, helping to build the party’s platform collectively rather than ceding that task to interest groups, as both major parties tend to do. Ultimately, they hoped, these delegates would select a presidential and vice-presidential candidate in an online convention to be held in 2008

And here's my favorite part, it's got the ring of Cincinatus to it:

Bailey and his confederates envision their enterprise not as the establishment of a permanent third party but as a one-shot affair—a dose of medicine strong enough to bring the two parties to their senses. Only then, they believe, can things truly improve. In other words, they are attempting nothing less than to rescue American politics and put the country back on the right track.

Check it out. Unity08



Or, you know, write-in Gore.
-t

Warning: Don't pick on the little guy

That's it for those of you who doubted: Pedroia's a ballplayer.

Alex Rodriguez made an "unnatural baseball move" on a slide breaking up a double play last night in the Red Sox 7-3 victory over the Yankees, throwing his elbow into Dustin Pedroia's hip as Pedroia attempted a throw to first base.

Was it a cheap slide? In my opinion, no. It was a hard aggressive, yes, slightly unnatural slide, not "honorable" but not "cheap" either.

But, the nice thing about baseball is there's a proven remedy for this very thing: Throw at a guy's face.

Pedroia's post game comment (emphasis added):

"He went in late and kind of threw an elbow. It was a little cheap but no big deal. I’ll remember. I play second base. I’ve got to turn two with the Yankees 19 times a year, so I know now when he’s coming in, my (arm) slot gets dropped to the floor. That’s it."

A-Rod running toward you in the way of a throw? Aim for his head. He won't try it again.

So, here's hoping it's Pedroia, and not Schilling, who gets to deliver the message tonight.

Pedroia concluded: "He probably got carried away but it happens. He was trying to help his team win. I’m just trying to turn a double play. I’ll get killed if I have to. I’m just trying to get that out.

Alex Rodriguez was apparently not available for comment.


-t

Sox lose in NY, help Boston fans rediscover themselves

Oh thank goodness. Sox get hammered in New York, 6-2

We can all go back to being worried again. I'm telling you, I couldn't take it.

Last week I had to listen to a caller on WEEI Sports Radio complain that Pedroia was getting too much playing time. The rookie second baseman with the flashy leather work who's been hitting .400 for two weeks? Too much time?

If we're not losing to the Yankees we've got nothing to talk about! I mean come on! Schilling hasn't said something controversial in support of President Bush, or taken Bonds to task, or mouthed off at the New York fans for weeks! Weeks!

But now! Now, Wakefield's ERA is climbing back up to familiar territory, folks are starting to pay attention to Manny's demise at the plate, and we've lost our double-digit lead in the AL East.

(The only reason, btw, the lead was double digits is because we're the only team in the division playing over .500 baseball)

But now! It looks like the Yankees have pitching back! Not all the way back, I grant you, but Wang didn't look terrible last night (well, he didn't look great during the game - something like 73 pitches through three innings) but up on the scoreboard he looked just fine.

Their bullpen didn't implode. Their lineup hit multiple home runs .

We can start to worry again!

I don't know what I would have done otherwise. If we'd gone into New York and swept the series? (Well, I would have done cartwheels), but then I would have lamented the loss fear mongering and scathing criticisms from our Boston sportswriters. Radio callers suggesting wild trades, J.D. Drew bashing.

We can't run away with the division, it's not good for our psyche. We're not the Braves of the nineties.

We need the worry.

-t

Email Exchange: Company Softball Edition

This post is dedicated to Felecia, who can't get enough softball posts.

---

The Players:
Ted: our starting pitcher. Nice guy, generally counted on to come up with the bright ideas (bringing a fully-stocked cooler, bringing a grill for mid-inning barbecue)
Harry: a grizzled old veteran, our captain
Amy, Bonnie, Cara, Steve: teammates
Adam: the jackass who ran into me at second base last game

oh, and me, Tom

---

Team,

Since not everyone on the team knows eachother that well, it may be a good idea to go out sometime. I was thinking that since we could use some practice as well, we could go to Good Times Emporium in Somerville (http://www.goodtimeemporium.com/). There is a bar, batting cages, pool tables and other stuff. Let me know what you think.

-Ted

Ted,

are we talking drinking practice or batting practice?
either way - I'm in as long as its a day when I can make it

-Amy

mmmm that's tough- i don't drink and the bar scene makes me uncomfortable.......
-Cara

If I've got nothing else planned, I'll be in. Does this place offer a senior discount, if I show them my AARP card?

-Harry

well Cara maybe some drinks would bring out your 2b skills....
i'll go!!!

-Bonnie

Great idea, let's try to plan this in advance in order to accomodate all schedules in mind. A Saturday at the cages followed by ice cold pints of quality European beers would make for a nice day. Remember, life is too short to drink cheap beer.

Cheers,
-Adam

Adam - European beers are supposed to be served room temperature. Not "icy cold."
-Tom


Actually it depends if its a lager, ale...etc. But having visited a true Berlin beer festival in Germany I would have to agree with that statement on some level.
-Adam

well it was nice playing with you all, looks like I am off the team - I prefer watery, tasteless, light, American beer! mmmmm USA! USA!
wait a minute wasn't it some "chilled piss in a can" that we all consumed the other night at the game?

-Bonnie

i agree with bonnie... i prefer watery, tasteless, light, american beer! and yes, we all consumed it over the past two games!
go bud light!

-cara

guys, how are we going to learn to play like a team, if we can't act like a team when interoffice emailing?????

-Amy

I support American beer - have some pride. [usaflag.gif]!

-Steve

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He's a tool.

"Icy cold pints" indeed.

-t

Open letter to the MBTA: No one of intelligence thinks this is working

To whom it may concern at the Massachusetts Bay Transport Authority,

My bag was searched for explosive material this morning by your MBTA police at Oak Grove station.

So, tell me, was there a tip? Was there word from a local terrorist cell by way of a well-trained, well-placed MBTA counter-terrorism informant? If I get on that train is there a danger it's going to explode?

No? This is a random check? I think you're mixing up your terminology. "Random" isn't correct. The phrase you should be using is "completely and utterly pointless."

Was there a credible threat to commuters?

If so, please, please, search passenger bags. Oh, also, if you've got information that one of your trains might explode, I don't know, maybe TELL YOUR PASSENGERS! Because, you know what? I'm more than happy to walk back home on this rainy Friday and call in sick in lieu of a fiery death on the train.

If I were carrying a bomb in my backpack this morning, do you actually think I would voluntarily wait in line to let you search my bag?! No fucking way! As soon as I saw the thirty-three passengers waiting to have their bags swiped and analyzed I'd turn right around and head one mile over to Malden Center and board a train there!

Hell, you don't think some two-bit terrorist group would be coordinated enough to scout the train station before bringing a bomb in? You don't think they'd send in a guy with a cell phone before they sent in a guy with a bomb!?

"Hey, Bomb Guy? It's me, Cell-Phone Guy, they're searching bags - so, um, don't bring the bomb into the station."

You're idiots.

Maybe it wouldn't be a big deal if MBTA wasn't a laughing stock. When was the last time someone's ride into Downtown Crossing was ruined or delayed by an explosive device smuggled onto a train?

Wait, wait, I know this one... NEVER!

When was the last time someone's commute was delayed by MBTA ineptitude, shoddy signal equipment, lack of repairs, or a disabled train?

OH, I REMEMBER, LAST MONDAY MORNING (20 minutes), TUESDAY MORNING (20 minutes), TUESDAY NIGHT (one hour 30 minutes). And that's just me, off the top of my head, in the last week alone.

Why bother blowing up trains that don't work anyway!?

Do you feel this anger? Do you want a way to make the morning commute safer? How about rather than spending my fare money on two MBTA pretend cops searching my backpack (which, by the way, contains a hat, a book, a pen, some coins, and my cell phone), you instead provide your passengers with a complimentary cup of coffee? Free downloadable iTunes songs on the train? Trains that work?

Wait, I've got a better idea:

Why not just get out of my way?

-Tom

Bad baserunning, softball recap

It's the second inning, I hit a hard grounder to third and beat out the throw. That's my first hit of the season. (woo!)

I play first for a few innings. No problems. And we're totally in this game after the first three (which is a new thing for us, we're usually down by twelve or so by then).

Jump ahead, it's late in the game, we're down by two runs, no outs, two men on.

I step up to the plate. I swing and ground the ball sharply to the third baseman who fields the ball and steps on third for the force out. This brings my average down from .200 to .167.

Now, you may remember the story I told last week about a jackass who walked onto the field and took the ball from the pitcher. I think we've all agreed he's a jackass.

Well, it's not just us, readers, it's the rest of my softball team, too. They've started leaving him off of team-wide emails, and "forgetting" to give him a schedule, hoping he'll miss as many games as possible.

Well, he showed up last night. And he was hitting behind me in the batting order.

And folks, it's not about him being a bad player. That's ok. I'm a bad player (one error and a .167 BA four games into the season, ugh). It's about him being a jackass.

Earlier in the game he'd made a nice catch in left field, and he's a good solid hitter.

What he's not, is a team player. What he's not, is a listener. What he's not, is a smart baseball player.

To recap: It's late in the game, we're losing, but still in it. Runners on first (me) and second (some girl), one out. Jackass guy comes to the plate.

He hits the first pitch for a single to left field, a solid line drive over the shortstop's head. The runners are off on contact, and, almost immediately, the third base coach, and everyone on the bench throws their hands in the air. "Stay, stay!" they yell, and, to the first runner, "Hold at third!"

The left fielder had handled the ball cleanly on one bounce, the lead runner stopped at third, I stopped at second, and as soon as my foot touched the bag I turned around to put my hands in the air and yell "Hold at first! Stay!" to make sure the jackass guy knew what was going on.

But as I turn, what do I see, but the kid barrelling around first base, head down, running full-out, trying to get himself a triple on a short line drive!

"BACK!" I scream, "Get back to the bag!!" and then, I say

"uufff!!" as he RUNS INTO ME!! THE GUY STANDING STILL ON SECOND BASE!!

He knocked me off the bag!

At this point the left fielder, only about ten feet from the infield, had tossed the ball to the shortstop who promptly tagged the two of us near second base for an inning-ending double-play.

I couldn't believe it! I still don't believe it! Everyone in the park knew it was a one-base hit, everyone was yelling for the runners to hold. What the hell?

I stood there, totally bewildered. I was just staring at the ground as the other team trots off the field, this kid gets up, dusts himself off, and says "You should have been running."

I couldn't even look at him. "They were holding the runner at third," I said, with as much menace as I could muster through my shock.

"Well," he said, "she should have been running."

They were holding her at third! There was one out! YOU HIT A ONE-BOUNCER RIGHT AT THE LEFT FIELDER!

I couldn't believe it. The next inning they opened the game up and we lost by the slaughter rule in the sixth. But we had a shot until this moron ruined our chance at a rally.

I'm going to pop his tires before the next game.

-t


Season so far:
3 games, no wins
Batting average: .167 (1 for 7)
One error

Slugging Percentage

We played again last night. We lost. Our softball team is now 0-3 on the season (0-2 in games I've played).

I attribute this, mostly, to other teams in the league being vastly superior to our team. Also, yesterday, a bunch of jackasses showed up to play.

The problem with fielding a company team is that the company, personified by the team captain, is obligated to make an open call for players, and can't cut anyone.

People who like softball and want to have fun show up.

People who are good at softball and want to win show up.

People who think they're good at softball and are jackasses show up.

I hate that third group.

Apparently, during the first game, one of the jackasses walked from his position in right field to the pitchers mound, and took the ball from the pitcher. Took it out of his glove. "I'm pitching now" was the unspoken statement.

He proceded to walk three batters in a row, let up two singles, and walk two more batters.

He was one of the three jackasses to show up at last night's game. He insisted on playing first, and insisted on batting clean up. He went 0-2 with two errors on easy ground balls.

Now, as I was properly raised to respect authority, I defer to the team captain on batting order and positioning. I can't help it if the captain's a pushover, or just a nice guy who doesn't like confrontation.

It's one thing to be a jackass who hits (Bonds, Jeter, etc) and in that case I don't have a problem with him hitting cleanup, but, if you can't hit you should absolutely be punished an extra spot or two in the lineup for being a jackass.

The game went five innings, we lost by the slaughter rule, I had one at bat and struck out swinging on five pitches.

I also played right field for three innings and fielded three grounders cleanly, caught a long fly to end the third, and almost caught a long, high, foul ball to end the second (it was hit out of play to the bushes and I missed it by about four inches).

I played first base for two innings and was involved in two routine infield outs.

Second game:
Batting: 0-1, 1K,
Fielding: RF, 1B, no errors

-t

Tim McCarver, no longer sucks as a person (still sucks as color guy):

Hi, do you know me? I'm the Red Sox fan that hates Tim McCarver (and, parenthetically, Joe Buck). I hate his voice, I hate his pro-Yankee, anti-Red Sox slant, I hate his anecdotes.

But I just read something at Red Sox Chick that may redeem him:

"[I was] Watching the Yankees/Mariners game on Fox yesterday, Ken Rosenthal came out and said that it was a no-brainer, if Clemens wants to win another World Series, he goes to the Red Sox. Buck came back talking about how it wasn't about money and McCarver responded with "If it isn't about money, let him play for nothing.".

Tim McCarver has the Rocket's number."

Wow. I mean, come on, wow.

We all know Clemens needed to make a statement. The $28 million is the largest contract ever signed, which is exactly why it had to be $28 million - it's not the number "28" it's the adjective phrase "largest in the history of baseball."

Clemens is never going to retire. He won't stop playing until someone (probably in the Yankees organization) arranges for him to be cast in bronze (probably live, in the middle of an outing in front of thousands in the house that Ruth built).

I have no doubt the Yankees will put it back together by July. No doubt that every single one of their injured starters will come back to the regular rotation just in time to make a run for the pennant. They're the Yankees, it's what they pay to do.

But I can't see Clemens factoring in. All the numbers suggest he'll be a pitcher to match up against opposing front-of-the-rotation guys as only a five- to six-inning starter (albeit with a superb ERA), which bodes ill for the Yankees bullpen. I don't see how that's much different than what they were planning on with Igawa every fifth day, minus the shades.

The Red Sox already have a fifth starter averaging five innings at the back of their rotation, and (if I've estimated correctly) he's costing John Henry & Co. forty-five million dollars less than the luxury tax Steinbrenner is paying on the Rocket's contract.

And Tavarez this year is the guy the Red Sox have trotted out to throw against opposing aces Chien-Ming Wang, Johan Santana, and Roy Halladay (twice), and has gone 1-2 against them, not too shabby for a fifth starter.

The Yankees will win games because they've got the most powerful lineup in the bigs, top to bottom.

The Rocket will reclaim fame, notoriety, and infamy, because his ego won't let it be otherwise.

The Red Sox will win the World Series.

-t

I think Roger Clemens is a little confused:

I can't really explain it. Maybe Clemens hasn't actually been watching American League baseball since he retired to Texas...

Some snips from yesterday's press conference announcing Clemens has signed with the New York Yankees:

1. During his press conference, Clemens called Derek Jeter the greatest clutch hitter he's ever played with.

No, Roger, you're thinking of Big Papi, David Ortiz, of the Red Sox .


2. He said he could now hand the ball to the greatest reliever in the game, Mariano Rivera.

No, Roger, you're thinking of Jonathan Papelbon, of the Red Sox.


3. "Make no mistake," Clemens said later, "I'm here to help this franchise do the only thing it knows how to do, win a championship..."

Oops, it looks like you're the one who made the mistake, Roger - once again, you mean the Red Sox.


I'd like to be at the game when he realizes he's playing for the wrong team.

They've got full audio of the press conference over at LoHud.

Co-ed Company Softball

Tonight's my first company softball game.

I'm holding out hope it won't be lame, but we're playing in an uncompetitive, co-ed league.

You've all played in co-ed leagues before, right? The intramural flag football in college, the CYO volleyball games, what have you.

They are, perhaps by definition, lame. Peppered with ridiculous sexist rules adhered to by (usually) militant umpires or referees who must feel that lives hang in the balance on each and every call.

I certainly don't have any problem with women playing sports. I do have a problem with preferential, or down-right ludicrous, treatment of both the men and women who suffer under these guidelines.

To whit:

---

10.1 The league will adhere to the American Softball Association rule regarding walking a male batter when a female batter is on deck.

-When a male batter is walked with a female batter on deck, the male batter will be awarded second base.

-If there are less than two (2) outs, the female batter must bat. If there are two (2) outs, the female batter has the option of accepting an automatic walk or batting.

---

I want to play competitive ball. I don't like being handcuffed by trivial rules.

I say, if you're going to make distinctions between players, and those distinctions will play a role in the rules of the game, don't separate players into groups of "men" and "women," but rather, separate them into groups of "good" and "not good."

Field two teams. Anybody who sucks can go play in a league with automatic walks, free bases, ghost runners, four outfielders, "safety bags," and God bless them for it.

The rest of us just want to play softball.

-t

Update:

11:15 PM Back from the game. I had fun - and even if I didn't, I wouldn't be looking for a more competitive league, because I suck.

It might have something to do with not picking up a baseball or bat for six years.

I'm sure next game will be better. It could hardly be worse.

Tom's First Softball Game:
0-3 with 2K, 2 errors

Thoughts On: Benedict Brady and the Wild Thing*

Hey, this is just a quick sports related post.

Regarding Tom Brady and his Yankee cap:

Brady can wear whatever the hell he wants off the field as long as he keeps winning Super Bowls in a Patriot's uniform.

And that is where I stand on the matter.

Also, I think all of us following the Red Sox were really hoping Daisuke Matsuzaka's control would rub off on his new best friend Julian Tavarez, and not the other way around.

(Do I get the prize for "most obvious joke"?)

-t


*anybody know the Japanese equivalent for "Wild Thing"? Laura?

Round the Horn

NFL:
I've got to be honest with you. I'm buying into the hype. This piece over at the Herald really primed the pump, and I'm all set to see the Patriots score 115 touchdowns this season.

MLB:
And the Sox are in first in the AL East with the second-best record in baseball.

NBA:
I stayed up Sunday night to watch Golden State beat Dallas and take a 3-1 series lead. I'm pumped. I hate Dirk, and Cuban's really getting on my nerves. What is that, a playoff goatee? Stick to running your billion dollar financial empire, Cuban, leave the gross-looking facial hair to the guys on the court. And buy a suit, for crying out loud, or at least launder that faded navy blue t-shirt you've been wearing to every game.

Much as I hate to say it, the Suns probably take the title this year.

NHL:
Meh. It'd be nice for Drury to win a title with Buffalo. But I really don't care much at all. The NHL has too many teams, too long a season, and too few viewers. Open-up the ice (yes, even more), concentrate your talent pool, and stop putting expansion teams in the desert. (Actually, do whatever you want. I'm never going to get invested enough to muster real anger until the Bruins make the finals. I'd say that's about ten years from happening).

All other sports:
Are great.

-t

Interview

Eileen from Divine Comedy of Errors asked me a few questions:


1. If you were in charge of the Red Sox and had unlimited funds to sign one player, who would you choose? Assume all current MLB players are available.

- I'll point you to my earlier post, Another Impossible Dream?. I'd sign Alex Rodriguez with absolutely no hesitation to a six year deal, minimum. and move him back to shortstop. I'd trade Lugo for a power-hitting first baseman (Helton? Might need a third team on the deal, the Rockies need pitching more than a shortstop - I'd probably platoon Helton with Youk for half the season, reevaluate after the All Star break, then use Helton or Lowell as trade bait to deal with needs).

If not A-Rod, I'd sign Johan Santana for another ten years. Beckett, Santana, and Matsuzaka would mean fifty-four to sixty wins a season for plenty of years.


2. If you switched careers, what would your new job be? (stay with the realm of plausibility for this one)

-Teacher, I like to teach, and I'm super good at messing with their young impressionable minds.

I'm not a teacher because I need money to buy a house and, you know, food.


3. Who was the best teacher you ever had?

-Brother Fred Eid, high school, freshman, junior, and senior year. He taught math, art, and moderated the newspaper and photography club. His presentation on limits is the reason I majored in math. He moved like a hummingbird, never wasted one moment, moving from the classroom to the news room to the studio to the athletic field and back. He probably didn't sleep. He was a gifted artist and educator, and if I had half of his energy you'd all think I was a coke fiend.


4. If you had to live in a foreign country for the rest of your life, which one would it be?

-Ireland - I hear the Guiness tastes better there. -or-

Japan - super technologically advanced, volcanoes, earthquakes, giant mutated lizards - yeah, I could totally handle living in Japan.


5. Do you have any unusual pet peeves?

-Not that I'm aware of. I hate stupid people, and Yankee fans, but I don't think that's unusual.

Ah. Driviers making poorly, or incorretly executed left-hand turns. Drives me crazy. Enter the intesection, then proceed with your turn, don't cut off oncoming traffic trying to get over! GAH!

Turning Left
When making any left turn, you must first yield
the right-of-way to any...
• Oncoming vehicle
• Vehicle already in the intersection
• Pedestrians or bicyclists crossing your
intended path of travel

from Massachusetts Registry of Motor Vehicles Rules of the Road chapter 4


Ok, that's it, want to play along? Rules of the game:

1. Send an email saying, “Interview me”, or words to that effect.

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions of my choosing.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You have to include this explanation, and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions...

A cluttered mind is like a cluttered house - or, in my case, exactly like it

I think my brain works faster during baseball season. In the crowded little one-family that is my mind, there are rooms full of clutter. The friends' room, where I keep everybody's names and faces, and the how-I-know-thems, is up on the top floor (really a converted attic with tall exposed ceilings, an old couch and armchair and coffee table, and plenty of natural light streaming in, perfect for mingling); the work room, which isn't really a room as much as it's an alcove or nook, with a small electric typewriter, solar-powered calculator, and some cluttered papers - it's also got a lovely view of the yard outside which is usually filled with kids playing wiffleball, or cute birds and animals doing distracting interesting things; the kitchen, living room, dining room, etc.

There are also lots of bedrooms. Of course, since there's only me (and the mingling friends in the attic) the bedrooms are mostly used for storage. One room's got a bunch of comic books and video games; one's got piles of text books from high school, and the notebooks from college I haven't lost - that's also the room that's got my driver's ed "rules of the road" handbook" and maps of Massachusetts highways (at least, I think they're buried in there); one room's got all my childhood memories, though they've been pushed back against one wall as the amount of trivia I've accumulated over the years has built up (Vincent Price played the Batman villian Eggman on the Adam West tv series);

another room has got most of my sports stuff: soccer cleats and shin guards from my under-12 season, broken street hockey nets tangled with street hockey sticks, uniforms from some of my youth hockey teams, basketballs, soccer balls, a ton of tennis balls, wiffleballs, old bases, old baseball gloves, team jackets, rollerblades, and so on.

But. There's a room up here that I don't use for clutter. It's in the same hallway, but there are two differences: the door is usually shut during the winter, and it's clean and neat and tidy.

It's the baseball room.

It's a small room, a little bigger than a small closet. It's got a large window with lead counter weights in the frame. It's got a small three-drawer desk with an old radio on it. There's plenty of floor space to spread out rosters, or stats cards. Blank scorecards are set neatly on a shelf above the desk that also holds a framed team photo of the 2004 World Champion Red Sox. On the wall facing the window there's a faded Boston Braves pennant, and a Boston Red Sox pennant from my first ever baseball game at Fenway Park. On the back wall there's a little bookcase that's got mostly biographies of major leaguers (like Ted Williams, Honus Wagner, and Joe DiMaggio) and a couple books on baseball (Summer of '49, Ball Four), Baseball Prospectus for the last five years, and a few binders on the bottom shelf with some baseball cards I've still got kicking around.

It's where I got to watch games. There's a copy of the Rules of Baseball on the desk for quick reference if needed, and a box each of black, blue, and red pens (for the keeping score).

It's one of my favorite rooms. I don't clutter it up with stuff, ever. Even when all the other rooms seem full and I just don't have anywhere to put your name, and why I should care about you, I leave that room alone.

Nope, instead I'll wander around for a little while holding that bit of info, and toss it when I judge it too much work for too little benefit (which is why I don't remember friends' significant others, or new coworkers); or that it's important enough to remember, and get rid of some other bit of information I've got kicking about to make room (which is why I forget telephone numbers - sorry, Adina).

But no matter how much junk I stuff into closets, or how many bits of personal history I've got to toss out, I'll keep that baseball room clean.

With the door open, I've got more space to move around, and I've got a quiet place to sit meditate. Things make more sense in that room, and I think better when it's open.

-t

Casting: A New Meme (sort of)

I'm inventing a new meme. This is what happens when creativity is clubbed to death like a pitiful baby seal on the ice floes of the Antarctic by poachers (here, represented by my constant work flow, and manager with a head cold).

It goes like this:

1. Think of a group of about eight people you know, friends, coworkers, aunts, uncles, and older cousins, whoever. Include yourself.

2. If you, as a group, were the cast of Lost, who would you be? Who's Jack? Locke? Claire? and why? Are the group of people that sit two rows over in your office the Others? Is your ex-Iraqi military friend Sayid - or is he really more of a Boone character, because he's sort of annoying and you wish you could just write him out of the show already. Are you Kate, because you're tough and running from the law - or are you Jack, because your father is an alcoholic?

3. If you don't watch Lost, substitute either, Heroes, if your friends can travel through time and turn invisible, Grey's Anatomy, if all you and your office mates do is hook up with each other and then whine about it, or 24, if any of your friends is an honest-to-goodness Jack Bauer caliber superhero.

That's it. Tada!

(Oh, also, if you don't watch Lost but are planning to in the future, just skip this post. I don't want to spoil anything for you.)

If My Group Of Blog Friends And I Crash Landed On A Mysterious Island Somewhere In The Pacific:

Me: I'd be Jack, obviously, since I am totally capable of using assorted pieces of plane fuselage to amputate limbs during emergency life-saving medical procedures. Also, I'd look badass with some tattoos, and I'm a natural leader. And also I loved Party of Five. If I can't be Jack I'd totally be Ben, that manipulative bastard.

Donny would be Locke. Donny's Boy Scout background gives him the outdoors edge, plus he's an introspective, meditative type of individual who ponders the big questions, like our man Locke. Donny's also got a shot at Tom as he's the only one that could grow the character's beard.

John, though, might also be Locke, as they share the same first name, and John once donated a kidney to his dad. Ok, I'm lying. John's also got a shot at Sayid, as he speaks two languages, but might have some trouble trying to pull of the bad-ass half of Sayid's character.

Adina is probably Sun, because they are both Korean. This would also, automatically, make Mr. Anonymous Jin, but that's a good fit. I'm certain Mr. Anon could catch fish for everybody and would look great in handcuffs. Alternately, Adina would be Hurley, as she'd be the first one to start hoarding rations.

Jackie gets to be Rouseau, the crazy woman who lives in the forest and shoots trespassers. That really seems like a perfect fit for the Baltimorean.

Samantha's medical background and OR experience put her in contention for the role of Jack, Juliette, or if she's not squeamish about torture, Sayid.

Felecia would be either Sun (a biology degree would help with the homeopathic cures) or Juliette (the experience with reproductive systems is a lock). Or, with her impending move to the other side of the country, possibly Michael.

Erin would almost definitely be Kate, because she's got the build for it, and she seems like she'd be dangerous holding a grudge. Erin's also got a shot at Charley, Desmond, or Jack's dad, for substance abuse, but the edge would got to drunky-drunk Desmond.

Jenny's Tom, the guy who's seemingly in charge until you figure out the big picture. Also possibly Sawyer, because she likes lots of stuff, and would make the smart play early and grab what she could - and they both wear glasses.

Jayne's Claire. Quiet, unassuming Claire, who's rarely heard from, but almost certainly has a bigger role to play in the future...

Lindsay is Shannon, who falls for the foreign tough guy, or more probably, Charley due to the loves-music thing. Lindsay probably wouldn't love Charley's music though. Except track #2 "A Monster Ate The Pilot."

Jane gets credit for being an observant reporter, like Mikhail, but seems more like one of the good guys just trying to figure stuff out. That seems to fit with Hurley a bit, once she wins the lottery. On the other hand, Jane's accent places her firmly in the Australian camp, which means she's Claire.

And, Eileen, a world traveller like Desmond. Likes soccer, sailing, and Charles Dickens, likes pushing buttons. Desmond to a tee.

-t

If you were mentioned, consider yourself tagged.

Reeder Update: MLB

The Red Sox are off to a great start, playing lots of early afternoon baseball, and I'm stuck here in the office with no television.

So, rather than sit and mope about yahoo box scores being my only source of MLB info, I'm issuing a call for help to my national audience:

Help me find one good sports blog for each team in the American League. (Additionally, the National Leage ;)

I've got a few on my reeder now for the Red Sox like Curt Schilling's 38pitches, Rob Bradford's Bradford On Baseball, and Soxaholix.

I also managed to grab a Kansas City Royals blog a few weeks ago, written by Joe Posnanski, The Soul of Baseball.

And one of my longtime favorites is the Houston Astro's blog Plunk Biggio, which is "Dedicated to Craig Biggio and his (probably unintentional) Quest to break the all time major league career record for getting hit by pitches."

So, to any of Bostonians that follow out-of-town teams, or any of you out-of-towners that follow your local teams, or anybody out there that follows any team, what do you read?

We've got a series with the Toronto Blue Jays starting tonight (I'm still not used to their new logos) so that might be a good place to start. (And I'm always on the lookout for other Sox blogs. Can't have too much of a good thing!)



My current reeding list:

Baseball & Sports
Dan Shanoff
Beyond the Box Score
Fire Joe Morgan
Uniwatch

AL East
Boston Red Sox
-38pitches
-Brownie Points
-Drunken Bleachers
-Feeding the Monster
-The Joy of Sox
New York Yankees
-Blogging the Bombers

Toronto Blue Jays
Baltimore Orioles
Tampa Bay Devil Rays

AL Central
Detroit Tigers
Chicago White Sox
Minnesota Twins
Cleveland Indians
Kansas City Royals
-The Soul of Baseball

AL West
Los Angeles Angels(of Anaheim)
Seattle Mariners
Oakland Athletics
Texas Rangers

NL East
New York Mets
Philadelphia Phillies
Atlanta Braves
Florida Marlins
Washington Nationals

NL Central
Chicago Cubs
Milwaukee Brewers
St. Louis Cardinals
Houston Astros
-Plunk Biggio
Cincinnati Reds
Pittsburgh Pirates

NL West
San Fransisco Giants
San Diego Padres
Los Angeles Dodgers
Arizona Diamondbacks
Colorado Rockies


I'm 3 for 30. Batting .100 so far.

-t

Red Sox: 2008, Another Impossible Dream?

Over the course of the winter there's nothing like the incessant grinding of the Red Sox rumor mill - you've got your yearly Manny trade buzz, Coco Crisp daydreams, and musings about finding a Gonzalez-caliber defensive shortstop with Lugo's bat and speed. It seems that in the last few weeks of spring training this year things really kicked into high gear, especially with the will-he-or-won't-he Papelbon (anti)drama.

Some of the better rumors included:
Clemens! Can we sign him if he decides to pitch this year!?!?!

Should we trade for Houston's Brad Lidge? Sure he's had a rough season so far, but maybe he'll turn it around! That's why we took a shot with Snyder, right?

How about a deal that will send Lester, Hansen, and Manny to Chicago for Soriano?

Move Lowell and Mirabelli to bring back Edgar Renteria!

There's some crazy stuff out there.

One of the most ludicrous stories I've heard this year is the suggestion that we should deal Manny for the Seattle Mariner's Ichiro, straight up.

First of all, I don't ever want to see Manny in any uniform other than Boston's, and, second of all, and way more importantly, Ichiro is a free agent at the end of this year! We'd be dealing one of the greatest hitters in baseball for four months of a declining former-greatest hitter that we'd then lose at the end of the season to free agency!

Ridiculous.

But, it got me to thinking. What if we really were interested in Ichiro. We could pick him up at the end of the season in free agency. We've certainly demonstrated that we're willing to pay over-and-above top dollar for Japanese talent. As long as John Henry's writing the checks, I say, the moon's the limit!

What if money weren't an option? Put on your Steinbrenner caps now (I kid, I kid, I wouldn't be caught dead in a Yankees cap - or pinstripes) and think about writing an awfully big check for the 2008 free agent class:

Johan Santana - declined an extension with the Twins at $9 million a year for two years. Would probably command $20 million per in free agency.

Torii Hunter - another Twin on the move, Coco's detractors would certainly cheer to see him flying around in center field. Unless of course you could get

Andruw Jones - who will probably be the biggest free agent signing of next year, whoever lands him. There's also

Adam Dunn - who's off to a great start this year for the Reds in the NL. And, of course,

Ichiro Suzuki - I was only kidding about him being on the decline. Sure his numbers have decreased for each of the last four seasons, but he's just gone from being light-years ahead of everybody else, to being miles beyond everybody else. And man, he's fast.

You've also got Roger Clemens (who should definitely end his career in Boston, though I really believe the Red Sox brass wouldn't be too disappointed if he ended up somewhere else, because at least then the organization won't have to field the inevitable performing enhancers probe), Carlos Zambrano (about a zillion sports writers' pick to win the Cy Young), Freddy Garcia (top of the rotation pitching! get 'em while they're young!), and, oh, Mariano Rivera - (he probably won't be coming to Boston).

Oh, oh yeah, I forgot to mention, there is one more potential free agent, maybe, possibly worth a look, you know, if your home town team is in the habit of picking up a new shortstop every single season (I'm looking at you, Theo):

Alex Rodriguez.

Whoa. Whoa. Enough with the throwing of the batteries. Two points:

1. Rodriguez is the best shortstop to ever play the game of baseball.

2. There is no second point, Alex Rodriguez is the best shortstop to ever play the game of baseball!



Now imagine. Just for a second. With all these guys on the table. Here's what the roster could look like:


C Jason Varitek (.269/.348/.450)

1B Kevin Youkilis (.275/.379/.423)

2B Dustin Pedroia (.191/.258/.303)

3B Mike Lowell (.273/.339/.463)

SS Alex Rodriguez (.305/.386/.573)

OF
Manny Ramirez (.314/.411/.600)
Andruw Jones (.267/.345/.505)
JD Drew (.286/.393/.512)
Ichiro Suzuki (.331/.376/.438)

DH David Ortiz (.283/.374/.550)


SP
Josh Beckett (57-45, 3.85)
Johan Santana (78-31, 3.20)
Daisuke Matsuzaka (17-9, 3.62)*
Roger Clemens (348-178, 3.10)
John Lester (7-2, 4.76)
Curt Schilling (207-138, 3.44)
Tim Wakefield (151-134, 4.30)

RP
Joe Nathan (124, 210.2, 1.97)
Brad Lidge (104, 134, 3.29)
Javier Lopez (4, 132, 5.66)
Craig Hansen (0, 41, 6.59)
JC Romero (2, 456, 4.60)
Brendan Donnelly (4, 295, 2.87)
Kyle Snyder (0, 181.2, 5.94)

CL
Jonathan Papelbon (35, 68.1, .92)**


Some quick notes to wrap it up:

-The above stats are career numbers through 2006 from Retrosheet (except Matsuzaka's - see * below).
Hitters (AVG/OBP/SLG), SP (W-L/ERA), Bullpen (Saves, IP, ERA)

-No, I have no idea how to trade for Brad Lidge and keeep Hansen at the same time. Both phenomenal closers (one pre-, one -post) with phenomenal sliders, you figure Houston wouldn't hate to swap them straight up) but it would be cool to have both.

-Lidge (7th) and Nathan (8th) would set up for Papelbon. No question.

-I'd be ok with losing Clemens to the Astros (or retirement) by next year, and Schilling, potentially, and replacing either with Carlos Zambrano, or Freddy Garcia.

-I'd try to hang on to Wily Mo Pena and Doug Mirabelli, and stick Ichiro with them as bench guys. Platoon Wily Mo with Drew in right, and Ichiro with Jones in left.

-I was under the impression that the Sox are thinking about moving Lowell sometime this year, but I have no idea who they'd get to replace him. He' certainly the best third baseman in free agency after this season.

-I also kept my eyes open for first basemen, thinking if they do drop Lowell they could shift Youkilis to third and open a spot for a heavy hitter, but I like it the way it is.

-Pedroia. Sure, his numbers look terrible (especially compared to the rest of the lineup), but the guys upstairs have faith in him, so I'm ok with that.

-Finally, recognizing that six of these guys would be signing ridiculous free agent contracts, I would say the payroll for 2008 might be somewhere in the range of eight hundred seventy-three billion dollars.


*My prediction for Matsuzaka's 2007 MLB season
**Papelbon's numbers are from 2006 only

Stacked

There's a pile of papers sitting at the end of my desk, just past my phone and my right elbow. It's a big stack, maybe a foot-and-a-half high, but it's not in the way of anything.

I inherited the stack of papers. They do nothing but sit there. No one has come looking for them, they are totally inert. I'd guess they belonged to the previous tenant - or one of the many previous tenants. I also got a notebook and a furry pen with a goofy looking cat topper when I switched to this desk. (They were in the lower left hand drawer.)

I'd like to point this out again: They're not in the way. Of anything. At all.

Which is why, I assume, my manager came over and said, "Hey, you should give these papers back to whoever they belong to, whoever sat here before you. The cash team might need them and they're probably in the way."

They're not, actually, in the way. I don't even use that side of my desk. I've got two pens, a stenographer's notebook, and a bottle of Gatorade on my desk. They're all on the left.

Maybe he just doesn't like the look of a big inert stack of papers on the desk. If that's the case, though, I hardly think making their removal my responsibility is appropriate.

The big stack of papers isn't bothering anybody but you? Maybe you should take care of it then. I've got other things to do, relevant, important things.

Like posting.

-t

Lost

Lost.

Everytime I've opened a window to start up a blog post for the past few weeks one word comes to mind.

Lost.

There's a notion, that wherever you might wake up and find yourself, dazed and confused, even in the middle of the night, I can't for the life of me understand how you could possibly consider yourself "lost."

Right? You wake up in the middle of the desert. It's hot. There's lots of sand. But you know where you are, you know? You wake up someplace surrounded by trees, maybe you're in the mountains, you think "Shit. I'm in the middle of the woods." but the very next thing you think is "Pick a direction, start walking, I'm bound to hit a road sooner or later."

And you'd be right.

Now, I'm not saying you'll necessarily survive. You could wake up in the middle of the Sahara with no water or food and maybe thousands of miles from the nearest caravan route...

But you'd at least know where you were.

You're never lost, is my point.

I guess.

One for a challenge, of course, I bent to the task of figuring out exactly where you'd have to be to not know where it was you be'd.

Way out in the solar system? You'd probably look around, notice you're stranded on a frozen rock, you can't tell which point of light is your home sun, and that gaudy Texas-shaped novelty brass belt buckle isn't weighing you down quite as much as you'd remembered, and guess you're at least close to the Kupier Belt.

How far out would you have to go to be totally lost?

I discount being lost in a dream, because you're right, you might totally feel lost, but that's just the feeling, not the place.

So what's next? Maybe an informed person can't ever be lost.

Which is maybe ok - but I'll keep thinking about it.

-t

"Lost" isn't a place you can get to in the United States, but according to the U.S. Census Bureau you can visit Lost River City, Iowa; Lost Lake Woods, Michgan; Lost City, Oklahoma; and a few others.

My World Takeover Bid Just Got One Step Closer To Realization

Seriously, you guys, I'm still recruiting. Think about how badass you'd look as my minions when you strap this thing on:


TAM Custom Rocket Belt

grabbed that from Warren Ellis


I'm still thinking about helmet designs. Maybe something from Bob Bassett:


The pieces are coming in to view, it's only a matter of time.

Forty-six and counting

I've developed a new system for tracking sleep-debt. It's sort of like keeping track of birthdays. A way to communicate how tired you are.

First, imagine an ideal period of sleep and waking. For the purposes of this example we'll say you're awake from 8AM to 10PM and asleep until 8AM. Every day this happens you've neither earned or lost any sleep time, you're starting from zero.

That's 10 hours of sleep and 14 of awake time. Good to be well-rested.

So, anyway, the system rates how tired you feel. Let's say you sleep until 10AM instead of 8AM. When you wake up you've gained two hours of sleep, or, you're negative two hours tired.

On the other hand, if you stay up past your 10PM bedtime, until 11PM, say, you've lost an hour of sleep, so even if you wake up at 8AM like you would on a normal day, you're one hour tired.

If you go for a week waking up at 8AM and going to bed at midnight, you're losing two hours of sleep per day, and not gaining any. If you sleep until 2PM on Saturday you've regained six hours, but you're still four hours in the hole.

Of course, it's cumulative, so if you've spent the last three weeks going to bed two hours too late, waking up an hour too early, only getting back three hours on the weekends, and today waking up an extra hour-and-a-half earlier to drive your stupid brother to school because "It's raining" you're now forty-six-and-one-half hours tired.

Except you're not you, you're me.

46.5, and it's only Wednesday. I now have to sleep for almost two days straight to break even.

This wouldn't be such a problem if they let me sleep on the job.

-t

Back room politics

I'd like to make a case for a return to back room politics. It's worked in the past, it makes good financial sense, and, if executed correctly, can practically guarantee the winner of an election.

Historically, the national convention for each major political party here in the U.S. is the time and place for a rigorous discussion and ultimately a determination of the party's representative in the national election. More recently, the conventions have become nothing more than floor shows as the candidates have already been determined by the primaries. In either case, everybody knows who their candidate is at conventions end, which gives the party one message, one candidate, one goal, to focus on and promote.

And really, that's all I'm asking for - I just want to see it done eighteen months earlier in a secret meeting by the five most powerful members of the party.

A quick glance at the 2008 Democratic field yields two strong front runners, Obama and Clinton, each with their own strengths (popular appeal and fundraising, respectively), and a handful of others who may still have some time to either gain some momentum, or distract from the real race: Edwards, Biden, Richardson, and Dodd.

Call a secret meeting. Round them all up. Everybody, all your potential contenders. Bring in Gore and Kerry too. Do it early, before anyone has announced. Sit them all down in a room and say, "Listen. We're going with Edwards. Get on board."

Why not? You've then got a unified party from the very start. You've got all your strongest candidates supporting one guy, you've got the fundraising, the charm, the appeal, all working for one guy. You'll have one name on the ballot for the primaries, you won't have to compete for recognition, you won't have to field any attacks from within the party, you're golden.

It's win win win, because once the party's in power, all the other hopefuls get cushy jobs, or ridiculously awesome jobs, or super powerful jobs, or whatever, and they're next in line for the 2016 elections. It fixes everybody's problems. Think about it:

Run an Edwards/Clinton ticket for 2008; Edwards gets the financial support he needs from Clinton's fundraising. Nobody has to fight Obama in a popularity contest, the country gets its first female Vice President, which is a fine legacy for Clinton to leave, paving the way for generations of women to come, and the rest of the field, Gore, Kerry, et al, get a strong friend in the White House.

Once in power, you just need to worry about setting yourself up for a continued reign. Obama is getting flak for inexperience; How will he look in 2016 after serving four more years in Congress, then four as Vice President? How about a two year Senate term, then two years as ambassador to the UN, or China, then a Vice Presidency? If not Obama in 2016, maybe Gore. In the intervening eight years he'd do well to continue an independent campaign for the environment, but might do just as well with the same campaign as a high-ranking member of the Cabinet.

Maybe something like this:

2008
Edwards/Clinton : POTUS/VPOTUS
Obama : Senator
Kerry : Chairman, Ways and Means

2012
Gore/Obama : POTUS/VPOTUS
Clinton : Secretary of Health and Human Services

2016
Obama : POTUS

Any oversights? Glaring omissions? (Anybody want to set up a meeting?)

-t

I can't wait for baseball

It's almost baseball season, baby. Watch this: (language NSFW)

Here there be monsters

I've run out of things to read on the internet.

Now that my lines of communication have been cut, and presented with no medium for real-time give-and-take, I am left to seeking, forced into an observer's role.

Me and my little row boat (online surfboard?), so recently tied to shore with my IM/email tether, have been cast adrift. I can do nothing more than stand up in my boat, pick a direction, and then train my binoculars on the distant shore in front of me. I can see people interacting, I can react to their antics, but I cannot interact.

RSS and Atom are my binoculars, boston.com articles, kottke.org links, google news headlines, blog feeds, these are the things I view.

But I've gotten really good at looking through the binoculars. I've seen all I can see looking in the same old directions, to the same old blogs. I need to know what else is out there, where should I point my looking glass? I need content to at least keep me stimulated while I'm stuck here on my surfboard, before I paddle back in to shore at the end of the day.

Who updates a lot? Who is interesting? Who will keep me entertained?

Somebody throw me a lifeline here.

-t

recommended download:
Bob Schneider, Orlando

Huffing and Puffing

As far as I can tell, everything being done here is being done right. Good people, good support system, good office space, no problems.

I spent the time at my first job bemoaning a major intelligence deficeit, and at the second, an overabundance of insolence and general malaise. Stupid people working vs. smart people being lazy.

I longed for a job without those troubles. A place where smart people worked.

Well, I found it.

And it sucks.


I know, I know, none of you are surprised. "Welcome to the real world, Tom," you say. And "Took you this long to figure it out?"

Excuse me for being optimistic. Hey, I've watched enough television to know how things are supposed to work. People quit jobs they hate, then magically find a job they love.

Rachel hated working for Joanna, and then got a fabulous job at Ralph Lauren. Joey was in terrible play after terrible play, then found fame and fortune on the soap circuit. Monica had to wear fake boobs and roller skates to bus tables, and ended up with her own resturant. Chandler processed numbers for a large, multi-national data firm, quit, and then got hired with no experience for a job supervising at a major New York ad agency.

So come on. It's been two years (it's been two years, right? It feels like so...much...longer) and I've done the fake boobs thing (metaphorically), I've put in my number crunching time, where's my fabulous job?

"Stop griping," you say. "We all hate our jobs. It doesn't get any better than this, ever."

Well, aren'y you little miss happy-face.

I'm reminded of a drew Carey quote:

"Wait, you hate your job? There's a club for people like you! It's called everyone! - and they meet at the bar."

Come on! Somebody out there likes their job...right? If not, then where did this myth of a good job come from? Because that's what you're saying, you're saying it's a myth!

Well, I don't know about you, but myths are based in fact. Little Red Riding Hood did where red, fat though she may have been. Cinderella did, in fact, have a godmother, though "fairy" might be a stretch. Pigs make excellent stone masons.


I am being starved for meaningful human contact. IM was a lifeline, one thin strand connecting me to the outside world, but I've lost even that. Now I'm dependent on a closely-monitored email account, and one-way blog posting. I remember when I had access to gmail. I REMEMBER WHEN I HAD ACCESS TO PEOPLE!!

Now I just have access to numbers. They're not even cool numbers.

-t

recommended downloads:
Fountains of Wayne, Hey, Julie
Oasis, Hey, Hey, My, My (Neil Young cover)

Ships passing in the night elevator lobby

At 12:45 today I decided to get out and get some air. I grabbed my jacket and headed out to the 13th floor elevators. As soon as I hit *G* I realized I'd left my cell phone on my desk. Too late to stop the car, I hit the button for the next floor down, 12.

The car stopped, I got off, hit the up arrow, and waited.

When the light went off I stepped up to the elevator, just as Mary, our 13th floor receptionist, stepped out, lunch in one hand, cell phone against her ear, jacket draped over her arm. Inside the elevator, now, I looked around and 13 was already pressed. I rode back up, got my phone, and rode back down.

When I came back to the floor I stuck my head into Mary's cube "Were you visiting somebody down on 12?" I asked, innocently.

"Oh my God, no!" she replied, "I just got off the elevator and walked over to the door and walked around 12, twice and I was like, 'well, this isn't my floor!' and then I came back up here.

"I do that all the time, but this time it was really confusing, beause I saw you when I got off the elevator."

Of course, I sympathize. The elevators in this building can be awfullying confusing. The elevator lobbies are located in the middle of each floor, with two exits. It's a fifty-fifty chance you turn the correct way getting off, and there are no clues to help, everything's totally symmetrical. None of the lobbies are labeled with clearly visible and easy-to-read floor numbers, so it usually isn't until you've stepped off the elevator, guessed right or left, swiped your security card, gone through into cubeville, then gone at least half a circuit of the office before realizing this isn't where you wanted to go.

"So, you know, I'd gotten in on the ground floor, hit the button for my floor, I'm the only one on the elevator, the door opens, and I see someone from my floor waiting, shouldn't it be my floor?...but it wasn't. It was really confusing."

At least the fifth and seventh floors make it a little easier. They've each got distinct color schemes, though it actually doesn't help Mary: She's color blind.

-t

recommended download:
The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Dani California
and
NOFX, The Brews

Superfriends

I got a couple emails after the last post asking for some more me-centric details: What did I do at the wedding/reception.

I had a seat at table five. Adina and Mr. Anonymous also had places there. Adina, I saved your name card. I might mail it to you. Also, I ate your dessert. And Mr. Anonymous's.

The rest of the table was made up of...Christina, her boyfriend, Heater, her boyfriend, Joe, and Emily. Christina had moved to New York three months ago and had taken a bus to Boston for the wedding. It was an eight hour trip because of the snowstorm. She also repeatedly said she lived in Boston, not New York, explaining that "being here with all my old school friends, it's like I never left, so I'm sort of slipping back." Which, I know from experience (having never moved away and visited Boston) could happen to anyone.

Emily is from Australia. Naturally by way of introduction I said "So, you're from Australia....do you watch Lost?


Actually, I said "So, you're from Australia...Queensland?" and she was all "DUDE! YES! Why would you say Queensland? That's so killer!"

And I was all, well, it was either that or Sydney...those are the only two place I know. Then I asked if she watched Lost.

I'm not kidding. I spent the first twenty minutes of dinner rehashing season 3 so far, then I ate three desserts, then there was some crazy dancing going on. I requested some Jude - but the DJs didn't have it, so I requested something Irish for St. Patrick's Day, and they were like "...um, Cranberries?" and I was all, "dude, that is so lame" and then they were like, "Pogues?" and I was like, "Now we're talking."

I also requested some Bee Gees. Which, serendipitously, Erin had forgotten to give to the DJs as part of her required playlist, as she and her dad apparently dance to "Stayin' Alive" at every wedding they attend. So, Tom's phenomenal taste in music saves the day! I'm the hero of the wedding!

I then spent about half an hour talking video games with some of JP's high school friends and Emily, the Australian, because, it turns out, they're all we're all huge nerds, and two thirds of them work in the video gaming industry. I told everybody to play Prince of Persia, Emily made sure I'd promise to try Elder Scrolls Oblivion, and there was a general consensus that Burnout Revenge is an awesome game.

Then there was more dancing.

And then I was invited to the after party. Which was a freaking blast. I discussed movies all night with these people who were carting around liters of alcohol (becasue the hotel bar closed at 10 (wtf, RI?) to all floors and lounges of the hotel (eventually settling in the lobby - where they had COMPLIMENTARY COFFEE! which was totally sweet), specificaly Cohen brothers movies, and also did a fair share of debating comic-book-to-movie adaptaions, specifically alan Moore's V for Vendetta and Frank Miller's 300.

I was genuinely impressed by the caliber and quality of Erin's friends. I would not hesitate to place erinire's bunch right up there with our 18aers. I found it very encouraging that there are other awesome people out there, and that folks who aren't me had opportunities to be a part of that. I've got a small notion that maybe we could get everybody together. Erin's friends, my friends, and form the Superfriends! (You know, like Spiderman and his Amazing Friends (Firestar and Iceman) - also, I'd get to be Spiderman.)

They were some great people. Everybody, the whole time. It was wonderful.

-t

And They Danced To Yoshimi...

I count myself fortunate to be one of the few friends intvited to, and, more importantly, able to attend, Erin's wedding. (Though, point of fact, I never actually received an invitation, as it was lost in the mail.)

The ceremony took place on what would undoubtedly have been a beautiful, warm, spring day, if not for the seven inches of snow and biting wind that had arrived the night before courtesy of Old Man Winter - but, as they say: "There's no such thing as bad weather, only different types of good weather." And, while the snowstorm did have the unfortunate effect of preventing eight or nine of the guests from attending, the sqaull certainly did nothing to diminish the joyful spirit of the occaission.

The wedding party looked wonderful; JP, the groom, and his best men dressed in ultra-cool no-button tuxes (though there were rumors some of the wedding party had been lobbying for lime green and ruffles), and the bridesmaids in a wonderful deep green. The ceremony itself was very nice, Erin teared up during the vows and held her composure remarkably well otherwise.

But the real fun, was the reception.

To begin: An open-bar cocktail hour while the wedding party was busy with photographs. This correspondent, who had found himself utterly alone upon entering - as his anticipated companions had been waylaid by the storm - was soon surrounded by one of the more charming groups of people he has had chance to meet. First, I was befriended by Kristin, girlfriend of the best man, and similarly unattached while the wedding party was engaged, and then, soon after, Meagan, who I encouraged to sign the hitherto unsigned guestbook, and lead by example.

As soon as the photographer was done with them, the smiling bride and groom made their way out to the bar to greet their guests. JP was shaking hands with everyone with an enormous grin upon his face, and Erin (cocktail in hand) could be seen hopping from group to group laughing and smiling, while simultaneously inquiring about the ceremony, her hair, the dress, and if everything had gone well. In my opinion, and, indeed, that of everyone she asked, everything had gone splendidly.

On, then, to the dinner portion of the evening. The guests were asked to enter the ballroom and take there seats (I found myself at a table with a few of JP's high school friends and their dates), and the wedding party was introduced.

As they took their seats at the main table I was struck, immediately, by Erin - her composure, her poise, the light, the dress, the look of calm and air of comfort and assuredness - she was, it seemed, meant to be a bride.

Those of you who have been keeping up with her rants and ramblings at erinire might be under the impression that Erin is excitable, frenzied, frustrated, or overwhelemed. Please, let me assure you that she was none of those things, and seemed completely immune to anything except happiness and joy.

As the night wore on (and wear on it did - as the reception was breaking up I was invited to the after party and began to beg off, citing the late hour, only to glance down and my watch to find the time was only nine fifteen! Needless to say, with the night so young, I made my way to the party with haste, and was up with some of the newly married couples closest friends through the night), there was much dancing (Erin's sisters the wildest of the bunch) and eating, and dancing, and drinking, but it would not be sufficient to describe it here, with my limited prose.

Instead, I will simply relate that after the wedding party's introduction, Erin and JP were called out for their first dance together as husband and wife. And in a moment that refelcted a perfect uniqueness, whimsy, charm, humor, and grace that I am sure will characterize their life together, they danced to the Flaming Lips, Yoshimi Vs. The Pink Robots.

-t

recommended download:
Yoshimi

Best laid plans... to rant and ramble

I've been invited to a wedding this weekend. (woo!) I've also been invited to a wedding near the end of April. (woo!)

I'd planned to buy a new suit for the occasion(s), something light, and spring-y.

Then I found a suit store on the same block as my new job and it was having a sale!

So...I decided it would be way easier just to wear one of the suits I already have.

Also, it'll save me some money.

Ok, quick updates: I've been singing "More Than A Feeling" in my head for days now. I still don't know any of the lyrics. This has, of course, earned me a few funny looks from my coworkers, but I don't care. I'm pretty sure you're civicly obligated to love Boston if you're from Boston. I'm pretty sure that also goes for Boston Baked Beans, the Boston Red Sox, and the Boston Strangler - I mean the Boston Pops.

For those of you wondering if I'd finished my book, I have. I loved it. I've moved on to Bram Stoker's Dracula. I've also decided to really sit down and update the hell out of my LibraryThing booklist this weekend. Right now the only things I've got on there are some trade paperbacks and sci-fi/detective novels. (Actually, when I'm finished, that's still probably all that will be there, there'll just be a ton more of them).

For those others of you who care nothing for what I do for recreation in my spare time, but instead smugly enjoy the thought of me toiling away for hours, nay, days, upon end here at my new job, slaving over a blurry CRT and tiny-fonted spreadsheets, get over yourselves. "Lo," they say "Tom has work to do now. No longer can he cast his web of laziness and inefficiency outward to his readers and drag them into his loathful existence, he has been smited (smoted?) and we rejoice!" (I imagine that's what they say. My enemies usually appear biblical in my imagination)(or Amish?).

I'd like to address that point by point:
- I have not yet toiled for days. No all-nighters or sleep-overs at the office.
I did come in on a Saturday, which turned out to be a total waste of time, and gave me cause to rededicate myself to never ever ever coming in to work on a weekend ever again. It's not worth it.

- I don't stare at a blurry monitor or tiny spreadsheets. We've all got nice big, giant flat screens - and I know how to change font sizes in Excel.

- I do have work to do now - I'd just like to point out that I used to have work to do then as well. Way back then, when I was still working under hypermanager's tutelage. Loads of work. Which I hated. I've got plenty of work now, and it's a pleasant change from trying to figure out how to kill eight hours of doing nothing at my last job with Insolent Bob staring over my shoulder. And it's not difficult, it's just constant. But, I've resolved to leave every day between five and five-thirty from here on out. Last week I was stuck at work until after six four out of five nights. I'm trying not to let that happen again.

- I have not been smoted (smitten?) and wasn't dragging you readers into my miserable lazy existence in any case. You're here because I write brilliantly and hilariously, and also because you think I'm the coolest thing to hit blogging since sliced bread - until you see this little number.

And I guess that's it. No new suit, I haven't started my taxes, I have started a new book about the most nefarious of evil creatures, and I fully intend to beat Super Mario 64 DS soon. Oh, and try this game, it's a blast.

Forty-one hours and forty-five minutes, before Saturday

I showed up at work....and there's nobody here! Granted, they all said they planned to start at 9:30 this morning, and I didn't roll in until 12:30, so they might be out getting lunch...but it's still pretty disconcerting.

I'm all alone up here. I'm starting to suspect that maybe there isn't that much work to do...maybe they came in, saw twelve trades instead of twenty-four hundred trades, and said "great, screw it, let's go home."

If that is what happened, I really would have appreciated a phone call or email or something telling me that, so when i did drag myself in here and log on at least I'd know not to expect them, and that I have my Saturday back and maybe I could go catch a movie or something.

But I think they're nice guys, and if they decided to quit early they would have emailed me. And since they didn't, then they're probably eating and will be back shortly. In the meantime, I'm going to sit here and do nothing - heaven forbid I start to do some work on my own and screw something up - I'd be here all night fixing it and that is the last thing I want.

Also, this is the last time I'm every coming in to work on a weekend. It's just not worth it.

I could be asleep right now.

-t

recommended download:
The Dropkick Murphys, The Fields of Athenry
Bob Schneider, Lonelyland

Drinking the Kool-Aid

I was going to write a post called "Drinking the Kool-Aid" early this week. I was going to go on and on about how much the new company seems "nice," and "happy," and "good." As opposed to all the previous companies I've worked for that are "bad," and "evil," and, (worst of all) "stupid."

But I didn't post about how great my job is. The two facts are related.

My "great" job has kept me at work until 6:15 three of four nights this week. Getting home a frustrating two hours later than usual is not conducive to flippant blog postings.

I have also been asked to come in Saturday to get an early jump on the mid-month trading deluge, which, I am told, can exceed 2,500 trades per section, per day. That is significantly more than the normal amount. About twelve times as much.

So, rather than spend twelve times as much time at work on Monday, I have elected, with three other members of our four member group, to come in on the weekend. Something I had sworn never to do.

Nine to six aren't the hours I signed on for. I agreed to work thirty-five hours a week, not forty-five plus.

Which is a shame, because for that week or so I enjoyed my job, I really thought it was possible to enjoy your job.

-t

The Hot Gates

A couple of my favorite excerpts from the first few paragraphs from this Seattle Times review of "300":

"It's one of history's great last stands — like 'The Alamo' and 'Zulu,' except with hyper-macho, near-naked muscular guys who seem like something from one of John Milius' childhood fantasies."

"When the hot, naked oracle of a group of deformed priests tells Leonidas not to go war, he instead goes for a 'walk' with 300 armed "bodyguards'"

and

"...as the action alternates between slow-motion and fast to emphasize every decapi-tastic detail."



Decapi-tastic. Sweet.

-t

Though maybe the Persians weren't that bad, and the Spartans did lose...

Rocks, Salt, and a heavy dose of Pre-Season Baseball

Step One: turn on NESN to watch some pre-season Red Sox baseball
Step Two: stare blankly at your computer screen trying desperately to think of something to blog about. The preceding week-long drought doesn't help matters.
Step Three: reach down without looking for your glass of coffee, bring it slowly to your mouth while watching Ortiz take ball three, and take a sip.

Step Four: Spit contents of the mug all over your computer, shirt, coffee table, when you realize the funny taste is half a cup of salt dumped surrepticiously into your coffee by your stupid younger brother.



We get geared up for April Fool's day pretty early around here.

We'll see who's laughing when he wakes up this weekend to find I've buried every piece of clothing he owns under two inches of river rocks.


Step Five: Star worrying that the salt all over your computer is going to eat into the screen and keyboard and damage it irreprably.

Step Six: Post.

-t

Devil

I had a devil of a time getting a T pass this morning. I was going to rant and rave about it, but I've done enough of that to the MBTA director via email, and I'm all ranted out. Quickly:
Tried to buy my pass with a credit card after waiting in line at a cash only machine;
Switched lines to wait for a credit/debit card machine
Credit/debit machine wouldn't take credit/debit cards
Received no aid at all from the so-called MBTA ambassador
Switched back to another line and dug through my backpack to find change for a one-way fare
Took the train in to work
At lunch I tried State Street station, Downtown Crossing, and Chinatown fare vending machines
None of them took credit cards either
Finally when I left work they'd been fixed and I got my monthly pass.

Stupid T.


In other news the book I'm reading right now, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is freakin' awesome. It's about magicians - but not your regular storybook magicians where magic is good or evil (Harry Potter, Voldemort, Merlin, Sabriel, any of Neil Gaiman's books...) in this book magic is... it's less fantastic, less unbelievable, and less understood. It's also sinister. Totally, totally sinister.

And awesome.

I'm going to go read some more.

-t

Books

I'm being paid for 35 hours a week. I shouldn't be required to come in at nine a.m. if I'm obligated to stay until 6 p.m. Overtime's fine, but so is sleep.

The boring parts of the day I used to get through by blogging I'm now getting through by singing songs in my head. One song per day. Today it was Fidelity by Regina Spektor. Recently I've also sung Cold As Ice, Carry On My Wayward Son, and Popular, from Wicked.

That's all I've got for you today. Brain's not quite up for hilarity. Even amus-arity. Bleh.

-t

The real difference.

People seem to like it here. They seem...happy.

I've never experienced anything like it.

Nobody is talking about how much they hate it here, no one is saying that it sucks. Nobody is talking about looking for a new job.

I think they like it here.

This is weird.

General Standards for using the Internet and Online Services

An excerpt from the Internet/Email Policy from The Company, in two parts:

Part One: The Internet

---

Ownership
The Company owns its technical resources and has the right to and is monitoring and tracing Internet usage. Please be aware that the Internet usage at The Company is not private. Failure to comply with the Internet standards stated in this and the following section on information sharing can be grounds for disciplinary action up to and including termination and/or legal action.

Access
Access to the Internet is monitored to ensure appropriate use. Management reports are produced periodically, highlighting excessive and inappropriate Internet usage.

Intent of Use
Internet access is provided to enable users to carry out their responsibilities as employees of The Company. Activities that are normally inappropriate while performing job responsibilities are also inappropriate on the Internet. Users are prohibited from using technology resources, including the Internet, for any purpose that is, in the sole discretion of The Company, unlawful, threatening, abusive, libelous, obscene, hateful, or encourages conduct that would constitute a criminal offense, give rise to civil liability, or otherwise violate any local, state, national, or international law.

Part Two: Email

---

Ownership Rights
The Company owns all e-mail and has the right to and is monitoring and reading all e-mail sent and received by The Company's employees. Please be aware that e-mail communications at The Company are not private. The firm has installed systems to screen global e-mail electronically and to store internal e-mail for potential future review. Misuse of email will not be tolerated and could lead to disciplinary action up to and including termination and/or legal action.

What is covered Under E-Mail
All types of electronic communications are covered by this policy. That includes but is not limited to:
E-Mail
Instant Messaging
Blackberries
All other forms of electronic messaging systems.

---

Also, it's a violation to share company information electronically, including policies and procedures, like the above, you know, just, fyi.

-t

The Grey Area

The work, it is unending. It is also mislabeled. There is very little actual "work." As I described in my last post, I am charged with double- or triple-clicking things in a computer program, for seven hours a day. It is very similar to my first real job in that the task is easily understood, endlessly repeating, and I will no doubt master it within two weeks.

Unending, and uninteresting. My coworkers, however, seem smart and competent. We will see how long that illusion lasts.

I have no other news at this time. I have not yet worked out a good system for updating my blog, reading others blogs, and thinking creative, original thoughts. The job seems to preclude thinking in its higher forms. While the activity itself is not intellectually taxing, the constantness precludes any time at all for losing oneself in a daydream, weird fantasy, or thinking up a clever haiku about the weather:

slush, sleet, freezing rain
my hometown's "wintery mix"
southerners' "torture"

Alas, there is work enough that I am not bored, and not enough work that I am at all stimulated. The limbo of computerized accounting. The gap between sunset and twilight and night when you can't tell see colors, when the sky blends so totally into the horizon you swear the earth doesn't end, just overlaps. The grey area. Stasis. I will no longer work. I'll muddle.


It's going to be weird.

Tuesday, last.

I wish today, my first Tuesday at a new job, was my last. I am faced, once again, with a mind-numbing array of monotonous tasks that require little more physical effort than clicking a mouse button or two, and a cognitive effort of similar amount.

Each trade I am responsible for takes about three shakes of a mouse tail (or is that three clicks of a lamb's button) to process. Just about the only thing I can say this job has going for it is that there are nine hundred trades to process every day (two thousand on busy days). I won't want for things to do.

I also don't have internet access from work.

No blogger. No email. Nothing.

I'll be blogging, henceforth, from home, at the end of the work day. I'll also be reading/commenting on blogs from home, at the end of the work day. This will drastically reduce the number of blogs I read regularly.

Of course, I'll let you know as soon as things change, if they ever do. And if I suddenly decide to go off the deep end, quit my life of suburban luxury and retire to a log cabin in the mountains to become a gun nut, and friend to bears and all animals of the forest, you all should know the very first thing I would do is let you all know about it here.

The second thing I would do is start growing my beard out.