And safety comes first.

Wednesday, November 29

Experienced Tree Decorator Seeks Tree

This year I was not invited back for Christmas tree decorating at the home of a longtime acquaintance. Last year it was all light stringing and glass ornaments in Redondo Beach. Bows were also used to decorate the tree. I was thanked for my efforts. It went a little something like this: "GEE, THANKS FOR JUST TOSSING THE BOWS AT THE TREE AND HOPING THEY'D STICK."

I have to admit, I had become weary of all the meticulous ornament placing 15 minutes into it, but when he said that, I was re-energized! I immediately grabbed a fistful of red bows and slammed them into the tree like God would a powerful snowstorm. And, yes, bitch, they all stuck.

I will eventually think of a title for this post but right now I cant even punctuate

Carmen De Boheme

Sinuously winding through the room
On smokey tongues of sweetened cigarettes, --
Plaintive yet proud the cello tones resume
The andante of smooth hopes and lost regrets.

Bright peacocks drink from flame-pots by the wall,
Just as absinthe-sipping women shiver through
With shimmering blue from the bowl in Circe's hall.
Their brown eyes blacken, and the blue drop hue.

The andante quivers with crescendo's start,
And dies on fire's birth in each man's heart.
The tapestry betrays a finger through
The slit, soft-pulling; -- -- -- and music follows cue.

There is a sweep, -- a shattering, -- a choir
Disquieting of barbarous fantasy.
The pulse is in the ears, the heart is higher,
And stretches up through mortal eyes to see.

Carmen! Akimbo arms and smouldering eyes; --
Carmen! Bestirring hope and lipping eyes; --
Carmen whirls, and music swirls and dips.
"Carmen!," comes awed from wine-hot lips.

Finale leaves in silence to replume
Bent wings, and Carmen with her flaunts through the gloom
Of whispering tapestry, brown with old fringe: --
The winers leave too, and the small lamps twinge.

Morning: and through the foggy city gate
A gypsy wagon wiggles, striving straight.
And some dream still of Carmen's mystic face, --
Yellow, pallid, like ancient lace.

--Hart Crane

Sunday, November 26

Video Games Ruin You!

Obviously, the term "ergonomic" wasn't a very important one in the 80's when the Atari joystick permanently damaged the joints in my hand. Look, I don't really want to talk about it okay? It was a wonderful Christmas surprise, and Moon Patrol was terrific, but all joy was lost the morning I couldn't hold a spoonful of the de-fuckin'-licious Pac Man cereal to my mouth due to the overuse of my thumb. As I said, I don't want to talk about this. I get so angry at technology.

Wednesday, November 22

The Company's Paying for It

Great balls of fire. We're going to have a raffle at the company Christmas party. Gee, I wonder what we're going to win. Perhaps a free pass to get out of next year's party. Oh. Oh. Maybe even just a free pass to sit with people I'd actually recognize from work. Hey, maybe we'll be able to upgrade our company logo mugs and plastic tumblers for better middle management. Now we're really thinking.

Sunday, November 19

Teach them well and let them lead the way.

Hear the children clanging their china and silverware. In five minutes I will have to tell them to keep quiet. The naughty ones won't obey because, of course, I am not their parent, and, also, because I failed to tell them about the Noise Control Unicorn waiting to be released from the pantry to stab naughty kids in one eye (right or left, your pick) with, what else, its uni horn. I have to work on more effective means to deal with youth.

Tuesday, November 14

Sick and Paranoid

Several people were asking about me yesterday when I was absent from work.

I was sick at home--where did you think I was? Shopping at my local grocery store for steel cut oats to feed my new pony at my ranch nine hours away in Arizona? Uh, no, my pony does not have a name because there is no pony! Ponies only exist in science fiction. And Arizona's not real either.

Saturday, November 11

Unfortunately, the moment has passed...or has it?

I waited too long, and now I have no stories about working with fools. I came to understand that these people I work with are not fools. They are not even foolish. They are simply passive aggressive people and can be found eating lunch among us, the sane. I study them at lunch. And when I have no other choice but to share the same table with them, I make small talk. Fill inthe facial expressions yourself:

"So, you like carrots, huh?"
"I like them, yes."
"What else?"
"What else what?"
(awkward silence)
"What else...what else do you have on tap for today?"
"Pardon my boldness, but in my humble opinion, I believe you are implying that I have a problem with alcohol."
(awkward silence)
"Just an expression. Got anything going on today?"
"What makes you think today's any different from the others?"
"Sorry. Didn't mean to get philosophical."
"Oh, you weren't being philosophical at all."
"You know what I mean."
"Not always."
"What do you mean not always?"
"I don't know. I'm not the whiz with the expressions."
"Boy, I can't wait till this day is over."
"Why? Don't you like your job?"
"Sure, it's okay, I guess."
"Well, I love my job. Angie (boss) says chemistry at the workplace is important."
"Are you trying to hit on me? Ha. Ha."
(pause by co-worker this time)
"I really don't think it's wise to joke like that at work. There are people who are very sensitive about that kind of thing."
"Sorry. I'll stop now. Please, continue with your lunch. I'm sorry I interrupted. Eat your fucking carrots and have a fantastic day."