Thursday, February 25, 2010

Sandwich Ring Guilt

We've all been there. You're sick and you don't feel well and for once, you've decided to be an adult about it. You are not going to imagine that the world will go into a holding pattern if you don't show up for work. You're actually going to stay in bed, get your rest, drink your fluids, and get better.

And then you remember. There's a meeting today. And not just any meeting. A meeting which involves clients. And sandwich rings. And while you're pretty sure that the clients would understand and would be happier to reschedule than be exposed to your germy germs, you're pretty sure the caterers won't care.

The caterers have ordered lunch meat and baked bread and prepared "prepared salads" in anticipation of fulfilling your sandwich ring catering order. And sure, you can cancel, but you're inside the 24 hour notice, so they're going to charge you anyways. And sure, the employees who would eat the sandwich ring would be appreciative of your noble sacrifice on their behalf, but there's one minor detail that foils your plans.


Accounting will be pissed that they had to pay for two sandwich rings because you were "too sick" to come to work for a sandwich ring meeting and they had to pay for another one for the day the meeting was rescheduled to. Accounting doesn't care if you are "bleeding out your eyeballs" and are likely to spread the plague with your every footfall.

Accounting is concerned with P&L, COGS, TPS, and all sorts of other acronyms that you learn while getting a BA in Accounting. (I wonder if they abbreviate Accounting on your degree just to give you one more acronym in the club of acronyms?)

And so here I sit. Because of the sandwich ring. I'm not even going to eat the sandwich ring because of the cholesterol involved. (The cholesterol balance sheet is a post for another day). I hope accounting enjoys my contribution to their acronyms.

Friday, February 19, 2010

good days

Oh, also, I feel the need to confess a few things:

Truly Successful Days are when I:
- Get gel in my hair and lotion on my back, and not the other way 'round
- Finish all the RSS feeds in my google reader for at least a minute
- Remember what day it is before I get dressed (Casual Tuesday, anyone?)
- Only have to threaten to hurt less then 5 people to get stuff done

of course I'm a giant tard, that's the best way to be...

Every six months there is a gaming convention that I attend somewhere north of the city. I'm not really a giant gamer dork so much as I'm a social butterfly and all my friends happen to be there. Sure, sure, I play the games too, and obsess over costumes for the LARP, and err...own several sets of dice, but really... I'm not a gamer. No really!

Anyways. Gaming usually winds down about midnight each night of the con and that's when the real fun starts... there's this... well... i guess adorable isn't the right word, but trashy isn't quite it either; it's somewhere between delightfully trashy and towny adorable... anyways... bar in the hotel. So after a round or two there, we head to someone's room for after bar shenanigans.

For the last convention, I held a hard hat party wherein all folks who wanted to attend had to wear a hard hat. And we had signs that said "Hard Hat Area" because... well because I have access to inexpensive printing (read: free.)

So, knowing that I have to top that (and it wasn't that hard) I set about trying to come up with a theme for this con's after party. Another associate of mine suggested that we turn up the heat, wear hawaiian shirts, drink tropical drinks and have a beach blanket bash, sans beach and blankets.

I let that stew awhile, and then someone suggested we have a party where people play RISK, the boardgame, because we weren't being quite nerdy enough just yet. Suddenly it hit me. Why not combine the two things?

And thus, the El Presidente Tropical World Domination Party was born. Hawaiian shirts required, tropical drinks provided, be prepared to be called a dirty communist if you start out in a communist country. Not that I don't like communism as an ideology, it's just that I like saying "dirty communist."

Now, I'm taking a class (yes, there are a lot of divergent threads in this post, just wait, I'm getting to the point where they all relate) in InDesign and one of our next assignments is to make a flyer providing people with all necessary details to attend your event.

I feel like its some sort of moral imperative that I make a flyer for my El Presidente party and use this for my flyer assignment. Because I mean. If you're going to be a tard, the whole world should know. It lowers their expectations of you while allowing you to get away with all sorts of shenanigans. And that's exactly what my InDesign instructor should know about me.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Oh Pittsburgh, how I love you...

Pittsburgh, I have a confession. I love you. Deeply, fully, and without reservation. I love your babushkas and your parking chairs. I love your ethnic foods, your 91 neighborhoods, and your divisive structuring. I would never want to be anywhere else, and I hope someday you'll have me as one of your own.

I have lived within your boundaries, and I have lived so far from you that I thought my heart would break (a short 60 miles to the north... yet still tragic). I find myself overly patient with your politicians, and overly forgiving with bad policy. I'm so deeply in love with you, I think new taxes are probably a good idea, even if badly conceived.

The point is this. I like you. But who is this guy? Where did you pick him up? I mean, seriously dear. You could do a lot better.

I'm not defining myself with my cube, well, maybe I am...

I have tried to do this multiple times. First I tried a very narrow food category. Then I tried a very narrow photography category. The only thing I actually enjoy is talking about whatever is rolling around in my brain at the moment. And I can't even categorize that when I'm writing it, so I'm pretty sure I can't categorize it before I write it.

So anyways. I work in a cube. I hang stuff all over my cube walls to signify... I dunno... that I am a person, not an employee number. Or something. I manage projects. I cook food. I take photographs. I read books when I remember to do so. I get lost on the internet for hours. I try to pretend to be a grown up, sometimes only so I can go do something immature and say that I needed to "let go" for a while.

I like shenanigans. I like picking up the tab. I like ordering foofy girly drinks, but would like to acquire a taste for a manly drink just so I can defy expectations while out in public. There is always a bottle of liquor in my freezer.

I'm a crazy, tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping liberal with a bent towards laissez faire economics. I would also not be opposed to running off to south pacific islands with malcolm gladwell, thomas friedman, and/or paul krugman. And don't get me started about Joe Sabino Mistick. I could listen to him read the phone book.

Anyways. I'm sure there will be lots of other things you'll learn as we go along. But these are the things that make the most sense to tell you now.