Archive for May, 2005

So I’m in the beautiful state of Jawjah at a conference hawking my company’s wares. So far, I’ve sprained my back, pulled my hamstring, cut my hand, eaten some very fine food, and had a lovely swim in the pool. I also got to know the Wayport Tech Support Dude very intimately, as it took two and a half hours to connect me to the wireless-my-ass Internet.

But I’ve learned some very valuable things about the city of Atlanta, the first being:


For the love of GOD what kind of taxes do they levy in this state on alcohol? I went to a liquor store (as you do) to get myself some gin and mixers for the room, and I nearly died of sticker shock. A 75 cl bottle of gin cost THIRTY DOLLARS. Thirty bucks for NOT EVEN A LITER? In DC you can get more than double that for eighteen.

I’m telling you, this state is not very soft on vices. My packet of Malboro Lights? SEVEN DOLLARS.

I am now in my hotel room, avoiding checking my work email which I know I must do, and watching Pirates of the Caribbean on TV. I love Johnny Depp’s character in this film. Also, I could look at Orlando Bloom all day long. But that Kiera chic. She bugs the SHIT out of me. She is so annoying.

Uh oh. Orlando is about to drown in the hull of the ship and he is STILL preoccupied with that petticoated beeyatch. Plus all this pirate syntax is beginning to get on my nerves. So now I am going out on the balcony to enjoy a fag and my view of three huge industrial fans.

And not drink gin.


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"……who is the most WONDERFUL sex therapist."

I suppose, given where I work, this is not entirely out of the ordinary.

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With Some Speed

There are a few phrases that my boss uses ALL THE TIME in her emails and even in her casual conversation that just drive me up a tree.  Who is this formal?  I mean, I’m not advocating writing emails to authors that begin "Yo, check it: we ain’t POSTIN’ no reviews on yo’ websizzo, hizzo" or emails to colleagues stating "ANOTHER meeting? FUCK dat shit."

But seriously, there is no need to preface every email to a higher up with "if I may" in parentheses after the use of their Christian name.  To wit:

"Leonard (if I may),

I wanted to return your email to address some concerns you raised in your previous missive…………."

Therefore, for your risible pleasure, I submit the following PET PEEVE PHRASES that just get up my nose when my boss (or anyone) uses them, either in email or in speech, or worse yet (GOD HELP ME) in a meeting which only serves to drag out the interminable:

  • Thanks much.
  • All best.
  • I ask that you refrain from [drinking too much gin] [or whatever it is I’m supposed to refrain from — HOLY SHIT just say something like ‘hey don’t show that to X yet I want to look it over’].
  • Mobilize additional promotional items.

And my absolute number one hated phrase of all time:

  • We’ll need to move forward on this with some speed.

GOD ALMIGHTY.  It’s like the court of Louis XVI around here.

So what are ya’ll’s pet email peeves?  ‘Fess up.  This should be interesting………….

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I am BUSTED.  I got in late as usual this morning, but today I was so late I was unable to slip past the bosswoman’s radar.  My office, conveniently, is down a hall and around a corner from hers, so most days I can slip in at 9:45, even 9:55 unnoticed.  However, today I strolled in (not so much strolled as employed Ninja-like stealth to sneak in the back door and navigate around any avenues providing lines of sight to the bosswoman’s side of the office) at 10:20.  10:20 !!!!!!  Hey I was tired, people.  Bartender Dude is on a completely different work schedule than mine and what can I say?  I’m a night owl and I’m not tired at midnight.  So anyway, at long last the repercussions I had feared and been dodging finally came to pass.  The proverbial shit finally hit the FAN, if by "shit" you mean passive aggressive self-righteous finger-shaking.  BW stood in my doorway positively CRACKLING with barely suppressed rage.  I’m serious the woman was VIBRATING.

And after a little berating time, when her fury had simmered down to withering disdain, she asked me a few work-related questions, and took off, muttering.

Ah, just one of the hazards of being me, and pushing the envelope too hard.

If only I worked in another department.  My employer actually allows flextime and most departments take advantage of it, but not MINE.  Phooey.

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Jane, Easter Morning, 2005


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