Tuesday, September 27, 2005

I'm not sensing a pattern here.

An executive jet, a limousine and dinner at a French restaurant. Unfortunately, I have been assured that this is a very atypical day.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Orientation programs for the Under-represented

This post is for that under-represented community in the entertainment industry (movies, books, music videos, the backs of cereal boxes etc) wiz Monsters. It is partially inspired by these dudes and partially by this really bad movie that is on HBO right now.

I shall be playing the role of a business/management counselor (You know, one of those boring ass MBA mo-fos (sorry Chilli) who conduct those orientation sessions on the first day of work and have you engage in dumb ass games and meaningless team work “fucking kill me now” building exercises. No, I do not think that desert survival games will help me code better. Any refugees from WIPRO recognize that? Nor do I think that holding impromptu plays is a less traumatic experience than being shoved head first into a fucking food processor. The only dickheads who actually enjoy these atrocities, both the participation in and the formulation of are people who have gone to business fucking school.

Interesting, I don’t think I have ranted in braces before. But that rant is for some other time) and will be giving the monster career advice for a fulfilling job environment, rich with upward opportunities and an excellent growth path.

Here is my advisc to the “Monsters”. For the purpose of this exercise I shall call them Junior Level Executive in charge of Localized Mayhem and Fear or to shorten that, Scary Ass Mo-fo.
Remember, your goal is to a) Survive and b) Destroy the “bad” guys (The “bad” guys are conventionally known as the good guys, but to build self esteem and pride in the JLEICOLMAF we shall call them “bad”guys.).

Here goes.

1. Office Demeanor.

Enough with the roaring. It is counterproductive. It lets the bad guys know where you are and you spend valuable brain time trying to come up for an aesthetically pleasing roar. A side effect is that the bad case of halitosis that you suffer from alerts the aforementioned bad guys.

If your species tends towards a slimy exterior carry a box of tissues to wipe up after you. Thus eliminating traces of your passage.

2. Situational Awareness.

Look everywhere. I cannot stress this enough. The bad guys are always hiding in that small box/locker/cabinet which seems to be too small to be holding anyone but actually possesses dimensions worthy of a TARDIS (Those of you who aren’t Doctor Who fans, a TARDIS is larger on the inside than the outside ). Pay particular attentions to roofs. They like to perch there acrobatically, in physically improbable poses.

3. Enemy Grooming and Appearance.

Go for the good looking ones. The sexy ones usually are the most dangerous. It has been statistically proven that the better looking the bad guy/girl is, the greater their chances of … well surviving you. Particular attention must be paid at this juncture. The female in the slutty (weird, apparently Word refuses to believe that slutty is a valid word) attire is not a threat. She is a red herring and will later die in a way that she deserves. Probably in a manner that would not have occurred if she was chaster. Look for the woman who is sexy and strong but vulnerable. She will be showing some skin, maybe some cleavage, but not too much. Similarly, the outrageously good looking man will have feet of clay. He will panic further along and will reveal himself to you and/or your colleagues and you will have ample opportunity to dispose of him. Look for the other man, the strong silent one. If he has stubble you’ve found the main threat.

4.Minority Race relations.

People who are not white are not a threat. Races are easy to pigeonhole.

Asians will either be scientists or hold menial positions. Scientists wear white coats. (That is a universal rule irrespective of the race of the scientist.) Asians who know martial arts are not a threat unless they are the “lead” as described in the previous point. Further along, they will sacrifice themselves for the greater good of the group. This will involve them assuming a martial arts pose and doing their best Bruce Lee Imitation.

My race unfortunately is an uncool minority. We will die early on or will make comments with an outrageously thick accent until you put us out of our misery.

Europeans with British or French accents are guaranteed to be on our side. Do not worry about them. However, the women have sometimes been known to be attracted to the male “lead” so do not trust them. If there is a lot of sighing or lip licking on their parts during the observations of the male “lead” on the standard close circuit cameras, eliminate them immediately.

Other races (I’m being politically correct here. Draw your own conclusions) are usually along only for comic relief. If they aren’t, they will die suitably heroically in sight of escape. They can be problematic but can be handled with a little caution. Usually by placing the ”leads” in danger at which point they will sacrifice themselves gladly.

5. Upper management.

They cannot be trusted. The evil mastermind/boss/scientist does not care about you. All he cares about is the formula/specimen/suitcase full of bonds that is currently held by the bad guys/in the secure locker or will be his payment on successful execution of his agenda. It is worse if you are employed by a Corporation. They will do anything to look good at a shareholders' meeting.

6. Your colleagues and You.

Remember, you need to work as a team. At least until all the bad guys are disposed of. Fighting over the remains of the lesser cast members is counter productive. Your task is to eliminate the "leads". Then you may fight over the remains.

This is the end of session one. There will be more next week or when I’m bored enough.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Un-hiatused.

A brief message from our sponsor…

Let me begin by blessing all those who choose to leave their wireless networks unprotected. They are the salt of the earth, the wind below my wings, my gateway to a whole new world, a new exciting place… (Insert rest of Alladin theme here).

I resisted this urge for days, this urge to roam the apartment complex searching for a vulnerable network that I could exploit. Until today, when desperation and boredom defeated me.

Unfortunately the only place I can pick this signal up is in the parking lot. So currently I am in the parking lot, sitting on the sidewalk, typing away furiously with an eye on my battery levels. For some strange reason the powers that be decided that having power outlets in the parking lot was a bad idea. If only the bastards whose networks I can pick up in the apartment had chosen to be as open and as giving as this wonderful Samaritan.


…thus endeth the brief message.

(I’d write more but it is getting a bit chilly out here. So good night all.)

And the weekly molestation of my blog by the spammers has started. Well I’ve certainly foiled them. No more will they leave comments saying that I have an excellent blog, but that from its contents it seems clear that I have a weight problems, real estate dilemmas, stock market opportunities, mortgage lenders beating at my door, chances to buy stock, ever popular erectile dysfunctions, chances to pick up degrees based on real life experience, painkillers at bargain basement prices and so forth.

(It's really getting cold now. As "the devil" would say if he was french, "Adios".)

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Bah

Now you can use Blogger right within Microsoft® Word. Just download and install the Blogger for Word add-in and a Blogger toolbar will be added to Word allowing you to:
Publish to your blog
Save drafts
Edit posts


:)

Requires Windows XP or 2000

:(

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

My word!

“Are those the pants you’re wearing to your first job interview?”
My uncle Joe (former Marine, newspaperman, sharp dresser) clearly disapproved.
“Just a minute,” he said. He left the room, reappeared shortly with a pair of these. “Served me well in the Corps. Never got a gig.”
A gig?
“A demerit. Passed every inspection with the Gunny. He could spot an Irish pennant a mile away.”
Irish pennant?
“Wear the pants, John.”
No-Gig Pants (No. 1599). Trim-cut legs. Precise buttonflap
[sic] rear pockets and vertical side-seam pockets. Full dresspants [sic] construction. Threeseason [sic] weight, non-scratchy wool that holds a crisp crease. Save a trip to the Quantico PX.
Men’s even sizes: 32 through 46. Hemming (max: 37”) or cuffing (max: 34”), add $2 per pair.
Color: Marine Corps Green.
Price: $148.

Go here for that...

Literary party at a London townhouse. South American Nobel laureate and two Booker Prize winners in attendance.
Good thing there are no sharp knives on the hors d’oeuvre trays.
I step out into the private garden during a discussion of magic realism. She’s already there, inspecting peonies in the twilight.
Our conversation is of merciful inconsequence. The latest Tate show, our favorite cheese shops.
I like the one on Moxon Street, she says.
Gaslights flicker on, making her velvet dress glow.
I like that one too, I say. I like it very much.
Belgravia Dress (No. 1590). Lush, glowing rayon/silk cut velvet, lined in pure silk. Wraps down from V-neck to asymmetrical tie-closure at waist, continues to low-calf length. Flattering princess seams.
For special occasions, parties, romantic dinners, assignations in the garden (with the right planting, in the right light, you and the garden merge). Price: $248.
Sizes: 4 through 16. Color: Crimson and Green floral on rich Taupe.

... and go here for that.

All from the J.Peterman catalog. Apparently Elaine's boss from Seinfeld is not wholly fictional. The mind boggles.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Look Ma, no hands!

Everybody loves having speakers stuffed in their ears at all times. While I do encourage my roommates to use headphones to prevent their atrocious taste in music from contaminating me I do not understand the need some people have to stuff those uncomfortable devices in their ears at all the time. Everywhere I look there are these cyborgs roaming about completely disconnected from the world around them. I can only hope that they get run over by a car whose frantic honking was drowned by whatever crap it was that they were listening to.

And now, everybody’s using hands free kits with their cell phones. I do not like them. Not just because I find it strange that people feel the need to have speakers stuffed in their ears every second of the day. Yes, they might be convenient and crap, and maybe drivers do not drive into trees when they’re using them. But they have had one unfortunate side effect. You cannot tell who the crazy people are any more.

There used to be a time when you could look at a person carrying on an enthusiastic conversation with…well with nobody and say to yourself, “That person clearly is not sound of mind. I should perhaps cross the street and pretend to examine that fascinating wall.” But those halcyon days are gone forever. Now a person talking to himself could just be talking to customer service or to a client or to the purple voice in his head that is telling him that sautéed human is yummy. (The purple voice, not the fuchsia one, because everyone knows that axe murderers always hear purple voices. The fuchsia voice is the one that tells you that you need to write a blog about the purple voice.)

So for pity’s sake make the hand free-kits larger or have glowing lights on them or something…so that I can separate the sociopaths from the sheep.

One problem. What if the friendly neighborhood psychopath is talking to the purple voice using his hands-free kit?

EDIT: A new record, this post got comment spammed in less than thirteen seconds. I feel so special.

EDIT EDIT: It's one in the morning and I'm in a Beatles mood.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Ouch

What is the point of aftershave anyway? A masochistic rite of passage? One that occurs every day instead of once in a lifetime?

Or in my case, once that occurs once a week instead of once of a day. I dallied with the idea of shaving regularly for a few months a couple of years ago. But I decided against it. For two reasons, the first being that I am lazy but I cannot bear an uneven shave or the least hint of stubble after a shave. This means that I will scrape and scrape and then scrape some more, until my epidermis begs for mercy and my facial hair crouch petrified in their follicular fortresses. And as a result of this “obsession”, all my shaves end up being twenty minute imprecation-laden marathons. The second reason is that I do not like the pain (Quelling the epidermis and forcing the hair to crouch petrified in their follicular fortresses can be done only when I use scorched earth tactics on my skin. I’ll leave the rest to your imaginations).

So, now I have the stubbled look. Some people can carry off this look. Unfortunately I am not one of them. Instead of looking good, I look vaguely like a guilty criminal with a bad hangover and a touch of dyspepsia. And not a even cool criminal, one worth emulating, like Don Corleone or this guy. But more like the criminal who comically knocks himself out by walking into a door when on the run from the cops.

However, I’m lazy and I mislike pain and so I shall continue to keep the stubbled look. But I shall add an eye patch and pirate hat to look more sinister and less ineffective

I just realized that I haven’t said anything about aftershave. If you have never put yourself through this torture, let me describe it to you. Imagine scraping off a layer of skin and lightly dusting it with pepper. Multiply that by a hundred and divide by π. That’s how painful it is.

I now realize that this is nothing but a thinly masked diatribe against my arch nemesis the razor blades.

In other news, coincidence is a bitch.

That’s all folks.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Apartment wanted. No fucking amenities please.

First:

This is a good cause. Please chip in.

The Rest:

I’m looking for a new apartment. I’ve been searching online and I’ve found a lot of nice places. Unfortunately they all offer “amenities” which I don’t want or can’t use, and these amenities push the rent up.

Amenities like these:

Tennis Court
I do not play Tennis. I do not particularly enjoy watching it either. The only things I like about tennis are the Russian blondes and their short skirts.

Picnic areas
Eat outside. In New Jersey in the fall and winter, when I’m going to be there? Hello hypothermia, meet my old friend frostbite.

Scenic walking trails
I do not have the time to scenically walk. For that matter I do not have the time to unscenically walk.

Park-like landscaping
Nice, but I do not give a fuck. I would not mind a concrete wasteland.

Business Center
Interpret this as two ancient Pentium two computers with a dial up connection and a dot matrix printer. I’ll pass thank you.

Heated outdoor Jacuzzi
Won’t be using it.

Indoor Basketball Court
Refer previous comment.

Large playing field
Ditto.

Fitness Center
Two barbells and a treadmill. I’d rather pay for a gym membership.

Playground
The urge to burst out into obscenities here is nearly overwhelming.

BBQ/Picnic Area
Repeat. I’m reasonably sure that they intend people to BBQ in the picnic areas. For the record, I dislike barbeques.

Business Center
Another one? Well fuck me and call me overjoyed.

New Building
I haven’t a fucking clue. Is there a building on the grounds that is new, and its newness causes astonishment among the residents. Is it a paragon of newness worthy of my admiration, and worth an extra fifty dollars in the rent?

Tot Lot
The only tots I know are this guy, and this guy. And they’re both in Bangalore.

Pool
Can’t swim. Will drown.

Cats Allowed
Whoop-de-doo-dah. I do not have a pet. And I like dogs.

Spa/Hot Tub/Sauna
I certainly hope my apartment has a tub, and I’m not forced to share a common one with the rest of the residents. And I don’t care much for sweating in steam filled atmosphere.

Walk to NY City Bus
4 mi. to NY City Train

Haven’t a clue how they’re passing off accidents of location as community amenities (Notice I did not say fucking clue).

One of the nicer places goes by the name “Hidden Lake Town & Country Apartments”. Again the glory of the English language makes me pause and think, are the apartments hidden, or is the lake hidden? Enquiring minds demand to know.

The Last:

And finally, more power to you if you recognize the picture below.