The Misspent Life

I Hate Second City

Last night I had the misfortune of going to Second City. I did not intend to laugh, and I was not disappointed. All the jokes had this smug, "aren't Republicans stupid," "aren't we so enlightened" air to them. They had one skit about the tax cuts only going to the wealthiest 1%. I wanted to yell out, "Anyone who didn't get a tax cut raise their hand." And George Bush being stupid just isn't funny. Things are funny only when there is a grain of truth in things. No matter what you think about Bush's policies, he is not dumb. Just because he isn't pretentious doesn't mean he is stupid.

I hate Second City.

Some Things Never Change

I came across this quote Thursday night while reading before bed. It is from George Gissing's New Grub Street (1891) and sounds like something me or my colleagues would say:

"How I envy those clerks who go by to their offices in the morning! There's the day's work cut out for them; no question of mood and feeling; they have just to work at something, and when the evening comes, they have earned their wages, they are free to rest and enjoy themselves."

A Problem With Expectations

I will now describe something that drives me nuts at work.

Currently, I am in the situ. where I am being asked to do a lot of things at the same time. This is cool by me, I can handle it. However, sometimes I am asked to do things that really won't work. Again, this isn't a problem since I am more than willing to "step up" and tell people to go jump in the lake if they are asking for something ridiculous. The issue arises when I tell them that what they are asking for is impossible and there really isn't any acceptable solution available; there isn't a Plan B to fall back on that would get them what they want. Managers and above view this as negative pushback. I'm telling them something can't be done and am not providing them with a solution. They want that. I'm more than willing to give them an alternate solution, but sometimes one is just not out there. It isn't my fault, but that won't stop them from ignoring all the other innovative ideas I bring to the table to point out on my review that I was too negative and didn't present solutions to problems.

You know what? I want to spend Fridays in the office. That isn't possible? Well, then what is THEIR solution to that problem??

Bastards.

Huzzah!

A few days ago I found out that a thouroughly unpleasant man who was part of the thouroughly unpleasant team I worked with. His days of driving people to quit or value their lives at less than zero are over, at least here. I say good riddance. He can't undermine my career any longer (not that I would really mind, I guess).

Comments

I know several people who read this website a lot, but don't post a damn thing. I want people to post dammit. If Sean Wereley posted, other people had damn well better post, too.

Friends That I Hate

All of them.

This is Boring, and Marriage Should be Like Jail

I have decided that this is the most boring and useless blog I have ever read. I don't have anything interesting to say because I am too exhausted by work to manage and focus my thoughts. Plus, I'm really tired of the public debate. The Democrats are ridiculous and live in a strange world that I don't understand and this whole gay "marriage" thing is driving me nuts.

President Bush's position is just about the same as most elected Democrats and he is getting all this heat. Andrew Sullivan is going ballistic, predicably. He's claiming the Republicans are an exlusionary party, yada yada yada. Well, then so are the Democrats. None of his civil rights are being violated. He can get married whenever he wants. No one is stopping him other than himself. He does have a point regarding people's acceptance of divorce, however. I don't like it and think it is too easy. It should be v. v. tough.

Marriage should be like jail. Once you're in, it should be impossible to get out.

If you don't like it, don't get caught.

Setting Things on Fire

Last night I had the pleasure to go to a nice restaurant with my team and another team out here in Peoria. We were enjoying our dinner (food was good) and the waitress (who was the least disagreeable of all that I have had the opportunity to interact with) came over and asked us, "Would you like to watch us set the bar on fire? We are bored and it is a slow night." So we went over and watched the bartender pour Bacardi 151 all over the bar and light it.

We then played with the flames.

Brown Pants

I really need a pair of brown pants and have been looking for some for a while. I know I can spend upwards of $100 on a pair of pants that need to be tailored, but someone has to have a pair of plan old brown suits, without any frills like too many pockets, extra-thick wool, or special zippers. But there aren't any.

My mother works for a department store so she has been investigating for me. She was speaking to a Claiborne buyer the other day and was told that brown isn't made because the dye is too expensive.

W. T. F.

I want brown pants.

Sunday Report and Restaurant Alert

Sunday Night Report:

After finding out that my iPod now contains 0 songs, as opposed to the corrent 2800+, I headed out to Wicker Park to meet Phenom at a trendy coffee shop. A couple observations:

1. It is just like Phenom to want to hang out in a trendy coffee shop when he is the epitome of the pretty boy yuppie the patrons would likely wish to have contained within the Gold Coast, the LP or Boystown. Actually if he was the type that lived in Boystown, they'd probably be cool with it.

2. Everyone had a Mac iBook. Sometimes stereotypes are accurate.

3. If I had worn my Bush pin I wouldn't have been allowed in or would have been called a fascist by several patrons. (This was enough to launch me on a tirade after leaving about the fecklessness of the youth and "progressive" movements, currently putting thoughts together on this for a future posting).

After discussing various exciting concepts regarding inventory and how to map them in Excel we headed off for a restaurant. Since we couldn't go to one of my fav. pizza places, Piece (Phenom can't eat cheese), I suggested that we go to Tango Sur, since I know we both were fervent carnivores and I hadn't actually eaten when I was there for SPF's birthday a few months ago. It is v. trendy so we were pumped and made the trek up north. Things did not go well.

We got there and were seated at a table. We ordered. The food arrived. I ordered an entree that was served on a tabletop grill. Part way through the meal something on the grill decided to pop, some fat or water coming from the beef or sausage. It threw burning fat and meat juice all over the table and all over Phenom's sweater and face. He jumped back in the seat with an "Argh, F*@&!" The restuarant stopped talking and the wait staff rushed over to see if everything was okay...with the food. They decided that the food was okay and then left with me agape and Phenom pawing at his face imagining his looks fade away like the picture of Dorian Gray.

After several gasps, I urged Phenom to take a trip to the restroom to wash his face and check himself in the light. I couldn't see any marks, but it was v. dark in the restaurant. He did and then came back to the table. My appetite was gone. We sat there for a while, utterly dumbfounded and then he decided that action must be taken. I was of the position that he should not have to pay for his food, but based on the fact that staff had handled the sit. v. poorly Phenom decided that neither of us would have to pay. We politely went up to the waitstaff and told them that we were leaving and did not intend on any of our money remaining. Althougth the bill would have totaled over $60, they accepted and we left. When we were halfway down the block they came after us.

He had forgotten his phone. So I had to return and pretend that it was mine.

I feel bad because you never put a brother in the position to get hurt, physically or otherwise, and I had. Although we didn't have to pay, the situation was handled v. badly, so I herewith issue a decree:

DO NOT EAT AT TANGO SUR

PERIOD

FULL STOP