Can we keep the Holidays out of the office?

I'm not trying to be the big Scrooge here, but I feel like filing for conscientious objector status for the holidays here at work. Yes, I'm agnostic, but that has nothing to do with it.

I celebrate Christmas, not out of religious reasons, but simple tradition. I believe most do. While you're standing in line to let your kids sit on the mall Santa's lap, juggling your 30 bags of commerce, most of us aren't thinking 'happy birthday Jesus'. But I digress.

I'm not against the holidays. I love the holidays. Family, friends, cookies, food, music, log in the fireplace... and heck, gifts ain't bad either. I just don't want the holidays in my office. And I'm not even going to go into the omission of Chanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Festivus. Let's start at the beginning...

Monday, November 26th, still bloated with turkey leftovers, still groggy from 4 a.m. Black Friday shopping, I walk into the office at 7 a.m. to be blinded by the "North Polock's" 700 kilowatt winter wonderland. It's the cubicle next to mine, but it pours over into my space -- a light up animatronic reindeer pokes his head over the wall at me every 45 seconds.

Not to be undone, the big dumb Irishman brings us an electronic tree that looks like something Charlie Brown would have had, should he have been skilled with fiber-optics. Now, not only is this tree hideous, but it blocks my view of the front door, so I can no longer see anyone come in the office. And if that wasn't the worst of it, Jolly Ol' St. Patrick doesn't even work in my section of the office... he just thought it would be nice if he spread his Christmas Joy to our workspace.

Then there's the parties. 5 or 6 Government branches work in my building. Each one with a Christmas party. Day parties, luncheons, evening parties, private parties, public parties... just too many parties. One can do maybe one or two, then just try to duck out of the rest. A bunch of us made our decision on one public, nighttime party, $50, open bar, thrown by a different agency. The one our agency throws is a complete drag, plus it's much better to get ripped when your supervisor, boss, and his boss aren't there.

Office luncheon... no way out of that pot-luck nightmare -- luckily, the boss makes good lasagna. Friday, another office party -- really the in-house drinking party; not possibly legal, but often fun. Now the "real" office Christmas party is Thursday night -- skipping that (as I said, drinking with the boss...). I'm overwhelmed already. I want it over.

Nope, not even close. Secret Santa? I opted out of that. Then it was cancelled anyway. OK, good. No office gift exchanging either? Maybe? Probably not. Christmas eve, my desk will invariably be covered with gifts I don't need from people I never intended to exchange gifts with. Heck, half these people wouldn't even be on my Christmas card list if I wasn't getting these mediocrely wrapped packages containing coffee mugs filled with chocolates, or Starbucks 3-packs.

And a candle swap? I'm not even sure what that is. Everyone brings in a Yankee candle, puts them in a bag... and you pull a candle. If I wanted a candle, wouldn't I buy myself a candle? No, I buy a candle, to exchange it, randomly, for a different candle? Is there a point? This is somehow better than Secret Santa? Again, I opt out.

It's holiday time here...

Can I just opt out of the whole thing?

In Bloom

Archived MySpace blog
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

I may complain about it, but my job does have its unique perks. One of which is that nothing goes on in this city without the cops knowing, and everything they know gets passed on to me.

So this month's interesting new haven news is that filmmaker Vadim Perelman has decided to film his latest work on the streets of the fair Elm City. Based on the prop ambulance, the upper Chapel Street area around Yale is actually supposed to represent the Big Apple for this film, but nonetheless, principal photography is occurring a couple blocks from my office.

So today we get the word, that they're filming a principal scene out in front of the Union League Café. So off we go. It's lunch time, why not watch the making of a film. Why not see if we can meet Uma Thurman.

So, it's 1:05, and we're walking up to the corner of Chapel and Temple, and bullshitting with a couple cops, when a trailer door opens, and out walks the statuesque Uma Thurman -- much prettier than I'd formerly believed when viewed in person, and she proceeds to walk by the 25 or so of us on the corner, pause and say hello, and stroll up to the set on the next block.

Not close enough, or enough time for autographs, but close enough for a very nice, very friendly, brush with stardom.

So 25 feet up the road, dollied steadi-cam, 1000 candlepower floods, a big lighting reflector on a crane, a tent full of directors of photography, light and sound guys, Ms. Thurman's stunt double (all dressed), and somewhere Vadim Perelman -- if I knew what he looked like I might have seen him.

The assembled group of cranky production assistants are trying to keep the 100 or so people congregated out of the way of filming, while my boss, looking like over-dress paparazzi, is snapping pictures with his telephoto lens. All this while a 6 second shot commences 5 times in a row: Diana (Thurman) walks diagonally across Chapel, turns, and looks into the camera with horror. The next scene will be Uma's double being run over by a car, but lunch wasn't long enough to stay for them to set up that shoot.

Sorry, I hope I didn't spoil the movie with that tidbit of info there, but by 2007 when In Bloom opens, you'll likely have forgotten this little blog.

Hopefully in a couple days, I can update with some of the pictures my boss took. The previews looked really good.

When the boss is away...

Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: amused

Contrary to popular belief, the Government is not actually a soulless machine devised to torment the citizens to which it pays lip-service to serving.

Well, maybe it is, actually, but some of the people working for it have souls... even senses of humour.

Take for example last night. Monday, October 31st, 4:30 p.m., the office staff was oddly taken by the Halloween spirit.

Yup, we toilet papered our boss' office. Gotta love it. Gotta love that he thought it was great, and aside from what was on his chair, he's left the rest intact.

So see, we're not soulless at all.

Your tax dollars at work, my friends.

Its the only thing I can do

Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: bored

Well, Tom is "doing maintenance" on my page again. Can't access home or mail. Effectively I've been reduced to blog status only. That's OK I guess. When it comes down to it, blogging is why I signed up for MySpace in the first place.

So, what to blog about...

I'm hot and sweaty. You needed to know that, right? Yeah, but I am. This is a desk job... I thought. But today the shredding drew came to collect boxes (and boxes -- 200+ to be precise) of disposed files. With no warning, we had no way to separate out which ones stay and which go -- then again, there's no room in the vault for all the boxes, let alone a way to make organized piles. So anyway...

Running around in "The Vault", an unventilated 25'x25' room, full to the ceiling with stacks of bankers boxes -- 11"x14" cardboard boxes with lids that don't fit right -- with a red Sharpie, putting giant red X's on all the boxes that must go -- all 200 of them.

So yeah, and did I mention that I decided to dress nicely today? No khakis and a polo -- as you all know as my generic work uniform -- today. No, I decided to dress. Black pleated pants, nice microfiber tan shirt, elegant sweat-stains on the armpits. What the fuck!?!

So that's my deal at the moment. Hot, sweaty, disgusting, aggravated with the timing of the Universe, aggravated with MySpace Tom, blogging. And my coffee's cold; 1 hour and 10 minutes to lunch.

But I'm not working tomorrow. That makes today bearable. Anticipation cancels out aggravation? Maybe so. No, nothing can be terribly bad, for tomorrow, I will be in Manhattan, at Madison Square Garden, for the New York Rangers home opener.

No, you are correct, I am not a Rangers fan. Never have been, never will be. But their opponent just so happens to be... the Greatest Team in the History of Professional Sport*... Le Club de Hockey Canadien de Montréal... affectionately known as the Habs... the Montreal Canadiens. And trying to get tickets to their home opener, and get to Montreal for it, not so much happening.

So, sore throat, sweaty pits, stupid guys from the shredding company, non-functional MySpace, I shall endure. For tomorrow, I shall rejoice in the splendor that is the return of professional hockey.


* claim to the title of "Greatest Team in the History of Professional Sport" based on number of Professional Championships won: Montreal Canadiens (NHL), 27 Stanley Cups; New York Yankees (MLB), 26 World Series Titles; Boston Celtics (NBA), 16 World Championships.

And I'd hoped this would be the good year

Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: disillusioned

Reading Pete’s blogs, and his references to the Lizard Boss – God, I haven’t heard that in years since I listened to the WigMaster religiously – reminded my of my own waddling superior. But, if I get into that here, I’ll be writing for days.

So, this year has opened up in an interesting form. A watermain break on the Saturday of the blizzard has rendered 2/3 of our office space non-usable. 8 employees are dislocated, phones and computers destroyed, and we no longer have a bathroom.

So today I decide actually I need to use the bathroom, so I go to the public men's room. Big mistake. Not only because of its publicness – those of you who know where I would know that I generally deal with only the scummy underbelly of human life – but because when I went in, I discovered that "the office" was already being used for a random urinalysis. Bloody lovely. I so fucking less than 3 my job!

Its just been like this all year, and its only February. Every stupid thing that can go wrong just does. 2 of my favourite co-workers – the kind of people who actually make the place bearable – are leaving, and I found out I'm dreadfully under-qualified for any of the jobs I thought of as my ticket out.

So, I don't know. I'm grumbley, I'm aware of that. My current pattern is work 5 days, commiserate with my other disheartened friends about 4 days, talk to my friends in Europe about once a week, and once a week go out and commit random acts of drunken self-destruction. I've gotten to the point that if I can drag my ass to work on Thursday I feel like I've accomplished something that week.

I'm pathetic.

I need a change, but I'm not sure what it is. I looked into going back to school today, that turned into a roadblock. I don't exactly have $16,000 in disposable income these days. New Dimensions is a crock. Its great if you're independently wealthy and want a degree in Business Management only. If I was that wealthy, I'm sure I could "buy" a BSBM from just about any school I wanted. I'm about this close to inventing a degree for myself. Nobody checks anyway. At 28 years old I could easily have a bachelors by now. I could have a doctorate by now, but I needed to get a job some time ago.

OK, I'm running away on a bizarre tangent. What was I saying? I don't know. Don't mind me. Maybe I just need to grab a slice of pizza?

People confuse me

I have to wonder why people ask certain things when they don't want an answer. Sometimes I wonder why people speak at all.

We recently relocated at work. Those who weren't effected believe it's the greatest thing for us. Those of us who moved think it's horrible. And we're not even complaining because we liked our old space, or because the desks are smaller. There are legitimate issues of efficiency in the new location.

So every day, twice to thrice a day, someone asks me, "So how do you like the new space? It's nice, right?" But the problem is, they don't want an answer. And, I seem to be pissing people off with my candor because I don't think they want the answer I have to give.

I have decided for my own sanity, to stop placating people. I've noticed a lot of people have. 2005 seems to be a year of brutal honesty. So, since I don't want to lie, and say "Oh yeah, it's great", what do I do?

How do you answer the question that really is "So how do you like the new space? It's nice, right? I've been convinced of that, so don't disagree with me."?

I don't know how to deal with this, but if I have to one more time, I think I'm gonna lose my shit.

Do you have your sign?

Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: cynical

My new profile image is this sign. I'm certain it's a Photoshop manipulation, but it rings so true nonetheless. My job in many ways reminds me of this sign. Today I suggested hanging a sign outside my office that read as follows:

This is the Prosecutors' Office.
Our main duty is to attempt to put people in jail.
Please keep this in mind before asking your question.

Oddly, most people who heard this suggestion received it pretty well, and took it fairly seriously. I guess we're all sort of burnt.

To steal a rant from a friend, it’s like the silica gel shipped with electronics and leather goods to prevent moisture. There is a warning printed on it that reads "Do Not Eat". Why? Did some idiot think his CD player came with free mints? Do we really want to remind the stupid of the obvious? I don't. I think Darwinism says they should have been killed by a rampaging mammoth by now.

The signs only make us dumber. The fact that I put up my last office sign in English and Spanish only perpetuates the idea that people in this country need not learn English. The average Dutchman speaks 4 languages and smokes marijuana. Are people who put mayonnaise on french fries our intellectual superiors?

You can sue someone in this country if you spill hot coffee on your own crotch. But... not if the cup is labeled "Warning! Hot Coffee may be Hot!" We are no longer expected to comprehend the obvious unless it’s written down for us. So, buy deduction, it's now culturally acceptable to be an imbecile, but not to be illiterate. Hmm.

Perhaps the true meaning of it all is you can get away with anything if you're the first one to do it. I think I'll try suing the company who made my tailpipe for nearly asphyxiating myself when I try to playing it like a musical instrument. I'll collect 2.6 million dollars, and next week we'll all have warning labels that say "Caution! Tailpipe is not a Musical Instrument. Do Not put in Mouth!". But now I have to act quickly, before one of you out there steals my lawsuit.

My favourite comedian, Eddie Izzard has a joke about the Catholics and "Original Sin", like it’s a contest to impress the priest with a sin he's never heard before. It may not quite work that way in the Church of Rome, but it seems to in a court of law.

In the mean time, I have to go. I have more signs to put up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And again, I'm listening to a CD that isn't available from Amazon, so I'll have to type it in.

Currently listening:
Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge
By My Chemical Romance
Released: 2004