Mofo

Oh it’s on! Prepare to get served. You brought it, now I’m going to bring it, and you’re going to get served! OK. I don’t competitively dance so I can’t keep this lingo up, just know that I know what you are doing and I am prepared to win this battle. You think I don’t know what you did? That I don’t see the long-term implications? What the fuck mofo?

It was your choice. You started it. I could have started it but I didn’t, because I am a calculating motherfucker. But you just couldn’t wait. You couldn’t be patient and now I’m going to win. Why couldn’t you wait mofo? Are you that weak? You just couldn’t stand the length of the grass anymore? It was bugging you so bad you just had to go and mow? You just had to make that obvious mowed vs. unmowed divide in our shared strip of lawn? What the fuck? You think I didn’t notice? I have to mow the lawn now. You made it painfully obvious. You completely destroyed the unity between our yards. You took their peaceful coexistence and drew a line. A line in the grass. A divide. You made mowed and unmowed where there was once a happy expanse of grass.

You really want to play this game with me? Cause I’ll mow mofo. Oh yes, I will mow. I’m going to mow my side better! It’ll be even shorter mofo. I might even put nice diagonal strips in it! Take that! You like that? You want some more? I’m going to fertilize. And I’m going to find the optimal placement for my sprinkler; your lawn will no longer be privy to any additional water from my side. None. I could probably get my dog to start pissing over on your side too. Would you like that? Golf course greens keepers are going to be asking me for advice and I’ll probably start renting out my side of the lawn for photo shoots (so don’t pester all the hot models on my side). You brought this on yourself. All you had to do was wait a few more days. But no. So what if my other lawn neighbor is going to be pissed. You started it. Not me. You just had to be a mofo didn’t you?

Why Yes, I Speak Sunglassese!

The mile-long multilingual information sheet that accompanied my new sunglasses left out one critical translation. Sure, one can read this essential information in English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, French, Russian and 6 other languages that I cannot positively identify. But you can’t understand a damn thing unless you know Sunglassese. This is a pretty serious oversight and how they could have left out the most important translation of all is beyond me. Fortunately for all of you naked eyeballers out there I Iearned Sunglassese in my youth. In my early teenage years to be exact, the time of one’s life when you blow all your cash on a pair of Raybans. I was introduced to Sunglassese by a burning need to look cool and because I was stoned enough that sunglasses became a needed accessory. You know, because stoned high-schoolers don’t AT ALL look like stoners when wearing sunglasses all the motherfucking time, what was I thinking? Oh yeah! I wasn’t! Anyhoo, I’ve translated a few key passages for you.


English: Only --------- utilizes pure Plutonite lens material, a proprietary synthetic that exceeds the optical requirements of ANSI Z87.1 standards while inherently blocking 100% of all UVA, UVB, UVC, and harmful blue light up to 400nm.

Sunglassese: Dude. These are sunglasses. If you go outside when it’s sunny shit will look better. And FYI, that’s pretty much what sunglasses are, it’s their job.

English: --------- performance eyewear also takes advantage of XYZ Optics, a breakthrough that maintains precise clarity at all angles of vision and extends the range of optical correction to the periphery of dual-spherical eyewear lenses and single-lens sports shields.

Sunglassese: Dude. You’ll be able to see all normal. It just won’t be so damn bright out. Oh, and that applies to normal sunglasses (I hope that’s what you bought) or douchebag visor /wraparound style sunglasses that only come in neon colors, or single-lens sports shields if you prefer (if you bought that shit you should return it).

English: In most cases earsocks are replaceable and are sold separately.

Sunglassese: Dude. What? Earsocks? That’s funny. I guess that rubbery thing on the part by your ear is an earsock and it can be replaced, it probably costs like a million bucks though and are you really going to track down a replacement earsock? When that part breaks you’re screwed.

Torture Reading

In that last post I was doing my usual bloggity-blog babbling about the “TIAA CREF Important Notice Regarding Availability of Proxy Materials for the Participant Meeting to be held on July 20, 2010” which I found to be fascinating. I read damn near everything TIAA CREF sends me. I don’t do this with other financial shit. They keep suggesting that I should just read all the crap they send me on online. I should, but I enjoy reading it fresh out of the envelope on that weird thin crinkly “financial” paper. I do. It’s a weird thing. I derive some sick pleasure from it. I always find some interesting nugget of information in there. Or sometimes I just marvel at how baffled I am by financialese and wonder what the hell they are trying to convey to me. It also makes me fantasize about retirement. It just entertains me.

But I should not enjoy reading that whack shit. Does anyone else have some odd little reading favorite? I don’t mean trashy stuff. I mean everybody enjoys a trashy novel and/or fluffy magazine every once in awhile. I mean stuff that would generally be considered tortuous to read. Like TIAA CREF corporate updates, ingredients lists, the fine print on credit card offers, directions for assembling furniture (well, those can be pretty funny actually), fast food packaging, paint cans, you know- stuff you should not enjoy reading- stuff that 90% of people would be like “why the motherfuck would you read that on purpose?”

I just copped to my own tortuous, yet pleasurable, reading of TIAA CREF financial statements. I will also admit to reading those horrendous “book club” questions publishers sometimes put at the back of popular novels. I find them absolutely idiotic and I read them knowing they will provide no insight into the novel. What they will do is make me angry with their stupidly obvious questions. Really? That totally obvious thing was totally obviously symbolic of that other obvious thing? My word! I had no idea. Thanks “book club” for clearing that up! Honestly, I often just don’t want the book to be done yet- so I read that crap. Oh, and I like reading those ads for commemorative plates, gold coins, and back braces that show up in Parade and USA Weekend in the Sunday paper. Have you ever read those? They seem to be written for 75+ year old shut-ins with endless knickknack space and a slew of nonfunctioning body parts. I find them creepily pleasing.

Now, what about your own tortuous reading habits? For example, Arlenna (who was able to tear herself away from the latest edition of “Coffee News”) and JC confess a few here . Please share.

Write-In Candidate: Me

Is anyone else just digging the “TIAA CREF Important Notice Regarding Availability of Proxy Materials for the Participant Meeting to be held on July 20, 2010” dated June 9, 2010? You know that packet thingy about the election of trustees that came in the mail? It’s pretty damn interesting. I’m not kidding. If you haven’t seen this thing then you need to go find it. Dig through the mail and find it. Keep looking! Did you look in the book catalogues? What about under that magazine? What about that mail under the coffee cup? Is it in there? Hey, that’s not coffee. Go check the box right now, or just go here.

I’ll just assume you found it. Did you read those nominee bios? See those tables of information? Their contact address? Prior work experiences? Other directorships? Who are these people? You know who I think they are? (That’s not really a question because OF COURSE I’m going to tell you) But do you know who I think they are?!? They are us. They are us, if we had chosen to use our educations and skills to make shit-tons of money instead of, you know, dedicating our lives to researching some weird shit.

Tech News

Do you smell that? No. Not that. The other smell? It’s new computer smell! Mmmmm. New keyboard typing. It’s so weird but so fun. Exotic almost! Damn, and the screen is fucking huge. Huge! I CAN BLOW, SHIT, WAIT, WHY’S THAT LIGHT ON? Oh, caps lock was on. Anyway, I can blow up this page and make the letters appear as ginormous monster-sized letters. That’s cool. Do the letters look super shiny and new to you? Can you tell that this keyboard sounds and feels different? That the screen is so huge I unconsciously keep scooting my chair back as my mother’s voice screeches “move back you’re too close to the tv!”? Wow. I mean this thing is so tidy. I haven’t gunked it up with lectures, messy data files, tweed porn downloads, various writings, and monkey pictures yet. (And FYI new computer: I like to make up words, get used to it, but “gunked” is a word where I come from! Ginormous too!) Anyway, enjoy your contact high of fancy new computer smell while I play all the games new computers come with! (until I make myself delete them)

Word

There is that thing, that thing we call collegiality. I cannot provide a decent definition. I mean something along the lines of “mutually supportive interaction among colleagues” would vaguely suffice- but not really. It also includes the simple ability of not being annoying, of not stinking up the department with your food smells, owning books that are worth borrowing and being willing to lend them out, and supplying me with university letterhead when I run out and am too lazy to walk downstairs and get some. We don’t have to like each other (like in the sense of real friendliness, the not in the “not like, like” definition). In fact as long as we can interact calmly, we can despise each other and still be collegial. But what do you call that other facet of work colleague relations? Their collegiality outside of work? You know? If you think about the colleagues that you never want to see socially and the ones you do, it’s because they have very different non-work collegiality scores. It’s more like collegeniality.

Collegeniality is the ability to pleasantly engage in non-work related interactions in non-work related environments. High scoring colleagues are those who you can run into at mutual friends dinner parties (RFDPs) and not cringe. You won’t regret having brought a 24-pack of PBR to RFDPs with these folks. Sometimes you run into them at the movies, and even though you got all fucked up because Get Him to the Greek seemed like it would be a shit-ton funnier with a little “help” you don’t mind because your collegenial colleague is in a similar state. You can also identify your collegenial colleagues in the drug aisle of your local grocer at 1:38AM. If you can comfortably make eye contact while dressed in some combination of sleepwear, outerwear, and long underwear selecting the most powerful narcotic-like substances you can buy without a prescription so you can spend your days with the flu alternating between sleeping and hallucinating, then you’ve met a collegenial colleague. Collegiality and collegeniality are distinct qualities that must not be confused or merged. They do not correlate.

One can be extremely collegenial even though they never show up to meetings on time or answer motherfucking obviously important emails. Likewise, one can be extremely collegial even though they insist on assaulting you with details of their obviously horrible design plans of their obviously horribly designed house every damn time you see them. I’ve created a word, collegenial, so that those of us with colleagues who don’t understand these differences can figure it out, add it to your vocabulary please.

Lawn Service

Uhm, what? I have to do what? I have to do that when? How many times? For how long? Why?

Oh. Because that other person is going on sabbatical next year…and they did shit for me while I was on sabbatical…so I should just shut the fuck up and do shit for them? Yep. It’s the only reasonable response. Yep. End of blog post. Nothing to complain about here, no sirrrreeeee.

DAMNIT! SHIT. IS THAT SOME KIND OF ADVISORY COMMITTEE? FUCK. That sounds like it involves actual work, crap, and that other thing? Ugh. I’ll do it, only because I left a big stinking pile of service in the departmental lawn and somebody else cleaned it up. So it’s my turn to pick up service turds.

What I Like About Coming Home

Sudoku Benders: I usually have my newspaper stopped but I often forget. I really do try and have it stopped and I really do honestly forget to stop it sometimes, but I also secretly like it when I come home to a pile of newspapers on my countertop. I guess that’s not much of a secret now, but it seems so silly. The newspapers filled with old news also contain enough puzzles to go on a Sudoku bender! For some reason Sudoku puzzles not in the newspaper just don’t satisfy me. I want newsprint. To sit down with a cup of coffee and plow through a few is the perfect “I just got home and need to relax” activity.

Home Coffee: Aaaaahhh home coffee… Coffee shop coffee is great. I like my afternoon coffee shop coffees. But morning coffee is a completely different experience. Morning coffee, the kind that is needed immediately after waking up, the kind of coffee made in your kitchen prior to even attempting any other activity, the kind that is sometimes brought in the shower with you, that is consumed naked, dressed, and in all matter of mental disrepair, is very different. It is never good away from home. It doesn’t matter what kind of coffee maker it is or what kind of coffee is used, wherever the hell you scrounge up that first cup of not-from-home-coffee it will not be good.

Plants: Everyone knows the shit you plant in the yard will not grow, make a flower, or produce any tangible signs of life until you leave. It’s Gardening 101 people.

GPS Peace: Shut the fuck up GPS! We both know I need you but I am not making a motherfucking U-turn and I am not getting on the freeway. Dude. Traffic here is outrageous and its necessary to drive like an asshole (mandatory actually). There will be no u-turns, I will cut-off the motherfucker in front of me (yeah you douchebag in the Porsche) and I will turn left when I’m damn well ready.