Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts

I Think I Can

Attention everyone! If you loved Choose Your Own Adventure Blog, then you will also love Choose Your Own Adventure OKCupid Profile that I made because my stupid friend told me to.

Of course it hasn't attracted anybody at all. I've gotten 4 messages, but they are all from people I already know. On the plus side I am reconnecting next week with the very first person I ever hung out with when I moved to New York. (Hi, Brian! Don't forget! Love, Brian)

I haven't slept in three nights so if I throw up coffee all over you right now don't be offended. Speaking of coffee... cans... made into other things, Liz at work and I made a new tip jar for the dudes at the little restaurant next door where we get breakfast every morning. Apparently the cheap-ass students at the community college and the cheap-ass librarians here don't give them much in the way of gratuity, but part of the problem is that their old tip jar was stupid. So ok here look at these shitty iPhone pictures.

I did the drawing parts and Liz did the contact paper and layout parts. Anyway apparently it is such an awesome tip jar that one of the asshole college kids walked away with it the first day it was out (Whitney believes the children are our future) so now it's tied to the counter with a rope. Because this is the sort of place I work now.

Amenities

Look.

Yeah, that's for days now. I don't know if you can see, but on the second row from the bottom, the item on the left is Chuckles. Not surprisingly, those disgusting little Whatever-the-Fucks go all the way back.

(n.b. If you look to the upper left, you can see the reflection of my awesome new t-shirt and be accordingly jealous.)

The drinks machine doesn't look so dire until you consider that the green things are Mountain Dew and the whole row of water at the bottom is stupid because we have water coolers in every room here. Before I took this picture, there was a little note someone had taped to the machine saying "To: Delivery Man -- More Mountain Dew Code Red, please!" I took that off and threw it away. This machine is already half Mountain Dew on the best of days, and we don't need that abominable Code Red taking up any more space. More seltzer please! We never get seltzer anymore.

And lastly...

Keurig Fail

Awesome.

Lotus Nooooooo!

So, of course the IT department decides they need to upgrade our fully-functional e-mail system. And of course it gets remotely updated on everyone's machine except mine so I am locked out of my e-mail for two days.

And of course when they finally do update my machine, it slows to a crawl and the first thing I see in the morning is this:

Oh crap you guys

Yes, computer. Thank you for being eerily clairvoyant. But tell me, O Wise Computer -- where do the problems begin?

/the old version of Lotus Notes was a fossil
//this version of Lotus Notes is a fossil from a slightly more recent geological period... let's just Google already

Extra extra

More good news! The A/C is still broken and I'm getting my second cold this month! This one's not really a scratchy throat/cough like last time, but more of a runny nose sinusey SPLITTING HEADACHE. I'm glad Fate is letting me experience every cold symptom imaginable this summer in case I forgot what it was like to be miserable.

Actually I blame the atmosphere for all my woes. If people can blame gays for the weather, I can blame the weather for whatever problems I have WHY CAN'T I HAVE A PONY, WEATHER!?!?!

Other things I did this weekend were go out and take pictures that all came out shitty and play Wii. When I last played in like December, I had 99 stars on Mario Galaxy, now I have 105. I'll keep you updated. Oh, and I watched some Xena, but they were crap episodes that I paid zero attention to, so I'm sorry. I knew how much you were looking forward to discussing this week's adventures.

Oh, also it was raining for like 10-15 minutes this morning. Check out this e-mail I got at work:

This morning's heavy rain has overwellmed the drains in the building.
Reports have come in of "black water spewing from the drains".
If a condition like this has occured in your area please call me for clean up.

Emphasis mine.

Anyway, how disgusting is that? Instead of risking it, I've been following an intricate bowel/bladder regimen I call "Holding It". At 2:30, I will go to Starbucks across the street for a piss and perhaps one of those orange mango banana blends with the appetite suppresant protein powder inside because I just ate a gentleman's portion of lasagna for lunch (if the gentleman in question is the size of Saturn) so I'm alarmed that I'm getting hungry again already and would like to put off dinner until midnight, after I'm asleep and it's too late.

The guy across the aisle is watching anime on YouTube again. OH time to pee, see ya!

IT'S LIKE A HEAT WAVE! BURNIN' IN MY HEART!

I'm going to tell you a story called this morning I fought my way through a throng of A-cup Jonas Brothers fans and their unemployed moms and confronted an NYPD cop trying to stop me from entering work though I had practically shoved my ID into his (rather chiseled and dreamy) face ONLY TO GET TO MY OFFICE and find out the air conditioning's broken and it's like 80 degrees in here.

My first thought was "Oh, I never noticed we don't have windows to open, probably because of the abundance of natural lighting from those skylights we have." My second thought was "Oh good I can't wait until noon when the sunlight turns this place into a real live sauna only without the free sex!"

So while I suffocate, let me tell you another story called last night on Xena, Xena and Gabrielle teamed up with the King of Thieves who looked like an ugly Matt Dillon to steal a chest that contained a powerful weapon. Xena pretended to be a whore, which was neat because she kissed a long-haired guy I liked and then blah blah blah and at the end the chest had a light inside the set you on fire if you ran away, and it turns out the chest was the Ark of the Covenant.

And so Xena brought the Ten Commandments down to the Jews, who were homeless people on an ox cart. I recently started reading the Bible (for literary purposes), and I'm up to the second plague of Egypt, but I think I can skip ahead past the rest of the Moses part because that's obvs not how it really happened, THANKS XENA FOR SETTING ME RIGHT!

Ok from now I'm going to tell you all about that happened in Xena after I watch it 12 years after it aired.

Lastly before I spontaneously combust here is a picture of my cat I took last night.

Bokitteh

Children!

Updates: I'm out of Luna Bars, they never get better, it's Take Your Spawn to Work Day, and I'm flying to Chicago tomorrow for reasons I can't tell the Internet about. Here's a hint: it rhymes with schmob splinterview. I'm starting to get smervous about it.

Yellow!!!
YELLOW!

But back to more pressing matters: My work is crawling with children today. It's rather gross. Luckily, the only on in my work area is also the only one that I like. He is my coworker's kid (obvs) and he is 4 and "drew" me a "picture" of some sort of giant-headed leopard "pokemon". He also colored me a picture of Disney's Pluto about to attack and viciously devour a grinning ostrich. It says "Ostriches can't fly, but they can run very fast." I added "BUT NOT FAST ENOUGH!"

I don't know what it is about kids that I don't get, but I don't get them. This one likes to tell me about all the animals he saw at the San Diego Zoo, but whenever I try to interject something, he doesn't give a shit! I talk about chipmunks and skunks and my kitty cat and all I get in return is "Oh. And I saw elephants and tigers and it went RAHR!" He gives a shit when OTHER people talk but never when I talk. However, I also think I'm his favorite. Favorite enough that he tried to hand me a dirty napkin. I went "Eew!" and I think he was hurt. WTF?

Despite the affection, however, I got a pencil thrown at me when his mom and I were doing our daily crossword and ignoring him, but you can't say to a 4-year-old "You little fucker! Unless you can tell me a 4-letter word that means 'ess-molding' we don't need you!" Or can you?

(The answer is ogee. It's a good one to remember.)

Anyway, I'm a failure at children. The 4-year-old also knows more animals and speaks more languages than me and will probably grow up to be a lot hotter too so I'm also a failure at life the end.

OMG he stole my good pen!

Inauguration

Timothy Pirhana

Hi guys! What have I been doing? Oh, not a lot. Little laundry. Little picture-taking. Little gaining 3 pounds. Oh and I went to a really shitty party last weekend for which the Architect owes me dinner and $90. It would be $100 but I stole his underwear.

The most important thing that happened at work this week was that Timothy passed away. My more loyal fans will remember Timothy Pirhana from last year. He was my dear friend and Lord of the Staple Graveyard, but he died in the field last week while removing a staple.

Actually, he exploded in my hand and it hurt like a bitch. Anyway, I had to make last-minute funeral arrangements and inaugurate his heir.

Timothy Pirhana is Dead
Timothy Pirhana's Final Hour

Anyway, he's dead now boo hoo I NOW PRESENT HIS HEIR the Mistress of Terror and Lady of the Staple Graveyard: Imogene Olivia Pirhana!

Olivia Pirhana Lives!
Hail to the Queen!

Isn't she sassy!?! Olivia Pirhana is a vixen!

Beneath those smouldering, heavily-lidded eyes lies a mysterious soul. Olivia Pirhana is a woman of many tastes, but she especially enjoys pain, vodka martinis, and smoking cigarettes with one of those Cruella DeVil holders. She also gets her eyebrows threaded at Pinky's on 6th Ave., that's why they're a little bit crooked.

Anyway, I hope you will all make her welcome. But watch your fingers!

Olivia Pirhana at Home
Here is Olivia guarding the Staple Graveyard

That's pretty much all I've been up to. Well, that and taking pictures with my new camera. It's pretty cool. I take a lot of pictures of myself because I am self-absorbed, so I will show you them later.

Grinding Away at the Ol' Factory

It smells like feet in my office today, and I'm such a dork that the only jokes I can think of about that involve Kimmie Gibbler. Q: How many Kimmie Gibblers does it take to make my office smell like a foot? A: One.

Anyway, winter's finally arrived. You can tell because the city has transformed into a network of intersecting wind tunnels thrashing and destroying the only Good Hair Day I've had in 2 weeks. Negative points for timing because today I was supposed to show off my haircut to Coworker Liz, but she approved anyway, which is important. My life is so interesting, aren't you glad I'm blogging more?

Potty Humor

Check out this e-mail I just got at work:

During the recent maintenance of the 2nd floor staff lavatories, which have been experiencing back ups, facilities removed several items such as: a library I.D. card, plastic utensils, fruit(lemons, limes) and a pair of beige panty hose from a toilet in the south staff lavatory. In order to provide continuous service, please refrain from depositing anything other than material for which the toilets are intended.

This has served to confirm my theory that librarians are insane, socially retarded, and unfit to live in civilized society. They flush fruit down the toilet. Don't you love it?

Cookie Party?

I'm back from L.A., where I went for the past week and didn't tell you. There are a lot of great stories I could tell you about it, but there is something more pressing I'd like to discuss.

"Somebody brought in cookies!" Ah, those sweet words are a rare cause for celebration here at the office. We get no Christmas bonus, no proper holiday party, and no free coffee machine, so cookies from an anonymous donor are infinitely more exciting in the month of December. When there's something good to eat at work, productivity skyrockets and Jesus smiles, so it was with great relish that I stalked across the room to the cookies only to find that they weren't real cookies but rather OLD PEOPLE COOKIES! I was so pissed, but I decided to eat one anyway just in case these old people cookies were different. They weren't; it was a nightmare!

Old People Cookies
A colony of Old People Cookies at rest.

In case you don't know, here's a quick lesson in old people cookies from a science and nature magazine I just made up:

The Old People Cookie is a nefarious beast that takes the form of a dry, unadorned, artificially-colored and entirely tasteless lump. Old People Cookies travel in groups called Shitty Gift Boxes. They are nomadic creatures, though they will often settle for brief periods at church receptions, rest home Christmas parties, ghetto blood drives, and the already-occupied houses of old people. Ironically, despite the name, the Old People Cookie has only one natural predator: old people. This is because they produce a natural toxin to which old people are immune. Other species who ingest an Old People Cookie are inflicted with the non-lethal but incapacitating poison that some victims have described as "fucking disgusting." The Old People Cookie is therefore able to enjoy a life relatively free of predation until its natural life cycle ends in staleness, though at what point staleness sets in is often unclear, and the corpse of an Old People Cookie can be passed off as a member of the community for up to 50 years.

I don't know why anybody buys these gross cookies or how the companies that make them haven't a) gone out of business or b) been bombed. The picture above represents how many cookies were on the plate after I took one. It also represents the number left on the plate when I left for the day. NOBODY LIKES OLD PEOPLE COOKIES! STOP TRYING TO FOIST THEM ON US! These were probably a regift of a regift of a gift originally given in 1960.

Fucking Old People Cookies. Fucking old people.

Liveblogging My Workday

8:00 a.m. -- Arrived at work. Chitchatted with Liz for a while about stupid crap.

8:16 a.m. -- Turned on computer.

8:32 a.m. -- Finished reading all of my blogs and webcomics already. You guys all suck for not being more prolific.

8:33 a.m. -- Received Hypocrate of the Year Award.

8:34 a.m. -- Started browsing Yelp.com.

9:25 a.m. -- Where DOES the time go? I'm going downstairs for a presentation on something. I have no idea what it is, I just signed up for it because there will be bagels.

11:15 a.m. -- I'm back! I listened to a guy whose job I want talk about how fabulous and interesting his job is. Also, I ate three bagels.

11:16 a.m. -- I have completed my transformation into a cow.

11:49 a.m. -- I've decided to skip lunch so I can go home early.

1:19 p.m. -- Sorry, what? Oh, yeah I've been surfing the net and Yelping and chatting and going to the other room for no reason. My boss isn't in today, so... you understand.

1:21 p.m. -- I'm going to eat this banana now.

1:26 p.m. -- Found a book in Dutch about Mozart. Will pretend to be completely Dutch ignorant so nobody questions me for "working on this" the rest of the day.

1:31 p.m. -- I miss my banana. Everyone just went up to lunch, so it's just me and the peel for another hour.

1:42 p.m. -- Totally bored, but the idea of actually working hits me like the sound of 50 howler monkeys screaming in my ear and throwing knives at me. Ooh, Liz is coming!

1:52 p.m. -- Just went to the bathroom where a fellow librarian farted in front of the CFO. I thought my organs were going to explode containing my laughter. I slipped out of the bathroom and RAN down the hall to an empty room to lose my mind for a few minutes. I totally wish you could have been there!

2:16 p.m. -- Liz left. I'm thinking of cutting out early. Earlier than early, technically. At any rate, I'm done with this. Happy Do Nothing Day, everyone!

Passive-Aggressive

Dear Diary,

Today I was an asshole.

We're getting a phone system installed at work for no reason, and the office phone is at my desk. So this guy came around looking for it so he could put the new phone model next to it to wait for the installation people to come on Friday. He was looking all over the place and walked by my desk like 3 times, but didn't see the phone. I'm in a shitty mood, so I decided I wasn't going to help him unless he asked because the phone is totally visible.

Anyway, then someone suggested that I help him out, and I said "What do I care? He'll find it on his own." Only I said it really loud and he heard me and looked at me. Then he came over here and put the new phone on top of my flip-top cabinet, which is pretty much the stupidest thing ever done because if I open the hatch like I do 20 times a day, the phone would crash onto this other girl's desk and probably kill her and break the phone. So I got up and moved while saying "What kind of idiot would put this thing here?" I'm not sure if he heard that one.

It was the best day ever.

I meant this to be whimsical, but I started bitching again, sorry...

C'mon, Lucky Spiderman Underpants! Do your stuff!

Today I am wearing my Lucky Spiderman Underpants, my favorite article of clothing upon which I have just bestowed the honor of capital letters. When I wear my Lucky Spiderman Underpants (not to be confused with Lousiana State University) everything goes well all day! Today, they are failing me.

First, I had trouble getting out of bed, which, to be fair, is not the fault of the LSU because I was not wearing them at the time. Then I stepped on my cat's tail, which I suppose we will also not blame on the shortcomings of the LSU because neither my cat nor I were wearing them then either.

But since dressing: 1) I ripped a page in my book because I turned it too strongly (I don't know my own power) and 2) we had another morale-boosting impromptu meeting with my boss, this time about how "certain people" have been telling him some of us "abuse" our break and lunch privileges. First of all, certain people is so obviously this one guy, and you could tell because 1) he looked awkward when this was being said and 2) he has no social skills and he knows it.

Ok, maybe it's not that one guy, that's not really fair to assume. (Lots of unfairness and misappropriation of blame today, have you noticed?)

The point is, we all hate our jobs. We all hate the way things are handled around here. Morale is at an all-time low, and now we're being hounded about a problem that isn't real. Fine, maybe I take 30-minute breaks instead of 20 sometimes. Maybe one day I'll go to lunch at 1 and the next day at 1:15. Am I the fucking Productivity Anti-Christ? Am I missing crucial 2:15 impromptu meetings where other pressing matters like this are discussed? I submit that I am not.

I also submit that the biggest hit to my productivity in the past 6 months has been due to me hating my job. When I'm in a good mood, I'll put on a podcast and WHOOSH I just cataloged the entire library. Today, I am in a shitty mood, as I usually am at work these days. Today, it is more like WHOOSH I just cataloged another negative emotion for my psychological archive, drew an inspirational post-it, wrote in my blog, called my mom to bitch about things to her, wrote an e-mail to my librarian friend to share the frustration, and maybe got around to some work by accident.

Why is it so difficult for management to realize their employees are people, and people work best when they're allowed to do things their way and not treated like naughty children?

Now if you'll excuse me, my Lucky Spiderman Underpants and I are 3 minutes late for lunch, and I would hate to be one of the reasons this library system is falling apart at the seams.

Bombs and Heroes

Awesome, we were all just evacuated because of a suspicious package at the 40th St. entrance. It was probably somebody's lunch or a Duane Reade bag that blew over to the door, but it was a lot of fun! There were fire trucks and police cars and new crews. And then in front of the library one of the lampposts fell on a guy, which was maybe less fun, but he'll be fine. There were more ambulances and fire trucks for that. The whole thing was crazy, and we got to sit outside, and it's gorgeous out today. Now it's almost time for lunch, so I'd consider this a pretty action-packed, productive morning.

Right, moving on my new superhero alter-ego is Awkward Hair Dude, saving the world with medium-length, impossible to manage hair! Too long for the old style, too short for a new one, I, Awkward Hair Dude, have what it takes to bring peace to America! Posing incognito as a mild-mannered, shaggy boy "just trying to grow his hair out", criminals never know what's coming when I bust out my secret weapons: "Ineffective Pomeade" and "Weird Flippy-Things That Won't Tuck Behind My Ears"! Enemies of justice, beware!

I'll post a picture as soon as I get my super suit from the dry cleaners.

10-4 30w

bpsecurity_badge

So last week I was walking into work and they were having one of their security meetings where all the guards stand around in the hallway and get their assignments for the upcoming week or something. Anyway, they're all anal about us wearing these stupid ID cards for some reason because I guess that makes the library a safer place even though we all know each other's faces anyway.

Anyway, I always have my ID in my hand (there's usually nowhere to clip it because I don't wear fancy shirts with pockets and ties) but fine. I was wearing a zip-up hoodie sweatshirt that day because I am a shlub and I was walking with my ID in my hand and the head of security eyes it as I'm casually placing my hands in my shirt pockets in order to look more emo.

I saw him see it, but he stopped me and said "Where's your ID?" in this rude, condescending tone. "Oy, here we go," I think, so I removed my hands from my pocket and said "It's right here" all innocent-like. He goes: "You're supposed to wear it on the outside" with that same asshole tone like I'm 10 years old and he's fucking Sir High Officer Muckety-Muck in charge of saving the world from a nuclear holocaust. But I keep my cool and say "I know, I will as soon as I get upstairs and take my sweatshirt off." It was a lie, but it was totally logical because why would I wear that ugly hoodie all day?

Yeah, but he's all "You should be wearing it when you walk in the building" (the rude tone continued) so I had had enough and figured if he's gonna treat me like a miscreant teenager, I'll act like one so I said "Ooookaaaay," like a crabby 15-year-old and then I put the ID back in my pocket and walked away.

It was such crap, nobody ever wears their ID and he never gives them shit but suddenly because he's standing in front of his loyal toadies he has to embarass me for the sake fo some pissing power trip? As if.

Anyway I felt like I won even though I didn't because it required me acting like an immature brat, but part of me felt liberated.

Then a few days later I saw him in the cafe downstairs and I know the girl behind the counter, and he's the type of guy who thinks he's friends with everyone so we were both talking to her and he introduced himself to me as if I didn't hate him. Fine.

But today he made it all better because we were in the cafe again and he was talking to the girl. I wasn't listening because I was putting milk in my tea, but suddenly he turned around, pointed to me, and said "If only we could all be skinny and good-looking like this guy here." Then he asked me "What are you, 19?" So then he was my best friend and I smiled and said "I'm 24."

So I forgive him now because a) he complimented me, but also b)cause I realized the reason he was treating me like a kid that day was because he thought I WAS a kid, so it made sense even though being a dick to a teenager is just as rude as being a dick to me.

But mostly I forgave him because I'm shallow and he drew everyone's attention to my waist, which is one of my favorite parts.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Nothing in the world is grosser than crusty, dried-out rubber bands. They almost make me not want to be a librarian anymore, not that I need a lot of help in that department these days.

Morale is low here in the trenches. We lost two of our men this weekend, and nobody's sure who will be next. We sit in fear over our keyboards, shifty eyes peering left and right always expecting more managerial treachery to leap from the shrubbery. Twitching at every innocent sound, we pray to someday be free from our post to return to the happy life we once knew, the life our fallen comrades will never remember.

Ok, enough. Friday we were called into a meeting. Apparently management (all 4 or 5 layers of it) has tried everything it can to cut corners and adjust next year's budget to work with our ever diminishing funds. So, layoffs. Fine. Layoffs happen; it's the unfortunate side-effect of working in this industry. They told us at the meeting that technical services was to lose a certain number of people, and two of them were from monograph cataloging. (That's my division.) They apologized, tried to justify it, and answered questions, one of which was "If you've cut all the corners you could, what happens next year when the budget is cut again? Won't there be more layoffs?" The answer to that was in Non-Committal Managerese, but it translates to English as "Nice knowin' ya!"

Then they sent is back to our offices. "Hey, you might be fired in a couple hours! Ok, back to work! Have fun! Chop chop!" Clearly we were not going to get any work done because we had to form a circle and start bitching.

Now, I like my boss. I like his boss. I like her boss. But this has to be on the list of Top 10 Ways NOT To Handle Lay-Offs. I'm not sure who planned it. Nobody would tell us who was being let go, and they all knew. Nobody's happy right now.

I'm not supposed to bitch about work on here because I signed some sort of bullshit privacy thing that said I wouldn't. But before this happened, we already felt like were being dicked around by outside forces, outside forces being a term which here means "by people who are not my boss or his boss or her boss." The division's been shrinking for years, nobody communicates with anybody, we're given conflicting information about how to conduct ourselves here, and people are making decisions that affect our jobs without consulting us catalogers when we're the ones in the thick of it. Maybe my boss or his boss or her boss are a part of the trouble, but I get the impression that we're all in the same boat here and that the bullshit is trickling down from a higher level.

And now this. At it's early stages, low morale leads to minor water-cooler grumbling. As it increases, productivity is affected. After Friday, we've officially passed that to the point where low morale is bound to lead to massive disloyalty. Why stick around here when my job could be gone in a year? I'm not moving up since there's no career ladder to climb. I'm not learning anything since I've been relegated to do copy cataloging of backlog for the past two months, a phrase which here means "a tedious, repetitive, non-morale-boosting task usually performed by paraprofessionals and sometimes students." The pay is barely enough to keep me in clean socks and a Spartan living space. We'll continue to be dicked around, a phrase which here means "treated unkindly and humiliated, as though hit in the face with a dick." So what exactly is the draw?

If they see this entry, I'll probably get fired or something. Today my answer is "Feh!" While unemployment is not the most appealing state of being, I can't seem to let rest the fact that when I found out I was not laid off, a part of me was honestly disappointed. After all, to the well-organized mind, a lay-off is but the next great adventure.

Vampire Hunter Dieter

Battledroidliveactioninsider

I got a new barcode scanner today, it's super neat. My boss told me to plug it in where the other one was plugged in, but when I opened it I was all "Yeah, as if, I can't plug a USB cable into a 9-pin port" but I was total tech-savvy young person and installed mine and the one for the other music cataloger with no problem.

Part of the stand to the thing looked like a cross between the head of one of those Star Wars droids (right) and a Lego antelope skull (not pictured) so I bent it funny, made mondo paper clip antlers, gave it eyeballs, and named it Dieter after the sound it makes when you turn the scanner on. Everyone in the office loved Dieter, but I had to dismantle him to assemble my fancy new scanner stand. I still don't use the scanner because I like to type on the keypad, but don't tell anyone. It's probably my favorite part of my job.

vhd

Also, I watched Vampire Hunter D. I did it to add some spice to my Vampire Moviefest, but it turns out I hate anime. While it was fun to learn the Japanese word for vampire (banpaia), this movie sucked. Everyone was one-dimensional and the fight scenes were so dumb. I didn't realize Pokemon was just doing genre shit because it turns out all anime battles are just like Pokemon. These guys would leap high into the air, which turns into psycho color time. Then they say something lame ("Let's see if you can handle this!") and then they vogue and glide towards each other and one of them ends up hurt, but you don't know who until they say "Ah! You hurt me!"

Then they tried to be all emo and shit, and you know how I feel about that. Luckily, everyone died in the end except the good guys, surprise, and Vampire Hunter D rode into the sunset or something, I don't really know I turned it off before the credits came on, that's how much I couldn't stand it.

So I hate anime except Hayao Miyazake, and I know that's such an ignorant American thing to say but if you had to sit through this shitty movie, you'd understand.

In my next blog entry I'm going to talk about the book I just finished and probably pay tribute to fogey Internet trolls stay tuned.

Open Letter to an Artistic Failure

Dear Hack Composer Who Can't Get Published:

PLEASE stop sending your music to my library. I'm so serious.

I spent the better part of my morning cataloging this binder filled with your outlandishly stupid songs that's been sitting in a box for 7 years. It came with a Christmas CD that I understand you've sent as a gift to numerous politicians including the President, the governor of New York, and the mayor of Los Angeles, though I don't quite get why you had to send 25 copies of form letters these politicians' secretaries sent you as thank yous for you "generous gift" which they're "sure will bring much holiday cheer". I see the Clintons sent you a nice card wishing you a Happy Holidays and thanking you for your "correspondence", though it is odd they made no mention of the CD. Perhaps they were waiting to review you in the New Yorker.

But probably not.

A word of advice to you and the countless other unpublished composers who send their music as "gifts": 1) Find a new way to disseminate your music, and 2) Don't send copies that you made yourself on Finale if you don't know how to make it so that all the lyrics and notes don't run together. (For the non-musicians out there, it's the equivalent of being done in crayon on notebook paper with the finges still attached.)

The only thing more striking than the mediocrity of your songs (that consist of non-modulating melodies and 3 chords) is your dubious command of the English language. I know ESL classes are expensive, but if you are going to write songs in English, understand that we prefer not to have three syllables on one note. Also, "candy" is not a synonym for "sweet" so describing a canary as "so candy" implies that it is edible, not charming.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Career,
~TH~

P.S. I mean it.

You break it we bought it

Library staff holiday party HEY! They had this catered brunch thing this morning that was nice and a bit incongruous. The plates were cheap catering rentals and they provided no knives, but the cute snowman mugs were from Crate and Barrel and we got to keep them. The orange juice was fresh, but the eggs were from a carton. And I was pleased that they had lox and bagels, a giant step forward for the Jews in this year's brutal War on Christmas.

You remember the War on Christmas. Last year, I wrote a blog entry on it. This year, I won't.

There was an announcement today that we're all getting free travel coffee mugs. For months, we've been getting e-mails about having open drinks at our workstations, and we've all been ignoring them. Especially me. So they're solving the problem with travel mugs.

I just wish someone had told me sooner that the way to get things from people is to do things they hate until they buy you something. I'm now investigating other rules I can break to get free merchandise. But all I can think of is standing in the rain and dripping on my keyboard until they buy me a new umbrella. There's one at the asian museum that was kinda cute.