October 29, 2004
A guy walks into an office and says...
This guy just walked into my office. He was about student age, dressed in student clothes, and clutching some student-type documentation, but was not actually a student. "Do you know where I can get help with Microsoft Access?" he asked.
"Next door," I said. Our office is right next to the computer guys, so we get these queries a lot from students who aren't hip to things like numbers on doors.
"I talked to them already," he said. "They don't even have it installed on their machines."
"Well...what kind of help do you need?" I asked, well aware that I knew nothing about Access and was letting myself in for a world of customer service pain.
"I'm trying to design some forms," he said.
"Oh," I said. "Well, we're all pretty computer illiterate around here, which is why we have those guys next door...I don't think we'd be able to help you."
"Ok, well can I talk to the department head?"
"You want to ask the department head of EECS how to create forms with Microsoft Access?" I said, for the sheer pleasure of hearing the idea aloud again. Those of you who don't work in a bureaucracy or massive corporation might not get why this is such a hilarious, beautiful idea. Lucky you. To me, it is comic gold.
"Yeah," he said, "why not? This department teaches a course about it."
"You could go talk to the professor of that course, maybe," I suggested.
"I tried. He's out or something."
"Ok, well...they're having a big ceremony down the street a little ways that a lot of professors went to. Maybe you could just try tapping people on the shoulder and asking them?" I was actually trying to be helpful here; it seemed no stranger to me than the idea of going to the feared gazillionaire department head and asking him a software question from MS ACCESS 101. He did not seem thrilled with this suggestion. "Sorry," I said. "You're caught in the cogs of a Brobdignagian bureaucracy, and we just live here." I was hoping he would take a little pity on me, but he just rolled his eyes and slunk out through the posterior entrance of the House of Pride. (If I may mix my lit a little.)
So that was my entertaining job experience. My frustrating one was this: I could not in any sense be considered poor, because I have a three person financial safety net which will catch me whenever I need it. However, with only $88 remaining in my checking account for the month, I don't think that a professor who pulls down seven figures a year should be asking me to spend $35 of my own money on someone else's birthday cake. (And where was my birthday cake, I wonder?) Sure, I'll be reimbursed for it eventually, but what if I wanted to buy a $54 drink on Halloween or something? I'd have to sell a kidney. In conclusion, pumpkins.
Posted by didofoot at 03:40 PM | Comments (6)
October 22, 2004
I'll put a cap in his ass, all right.
So there's this guy at work who about a year ago I made the mistake of teasing about his hat. I think it was one of those safari hats which I myself am so fond of, but it might have been a cowboy hat or a baseball hat or even a viking helmet, I don't remember. Specifically, the exchange was:
Me: So what's with the hat?
Him: I'm not interested in being friends with someone who judges me by my hat.
(And I know, because I put it in an email to Michele right after it happened.)
Anyway, ever since then he has been giving me the silent treatment whenever he comes into the office (where he doesn't work, but only visits occasionally to pick things up). To a meek and delicate-spirited person such as myself, this is pretty horrible. He always makes a point of saying hello and making polite small-talk with every other person in the office, but he won't even look me in the eye.
Was it really the hat thing, I wonder? Or is there some ineffable awfulness about me which only he can smell? (If you can smell it too, Reader, I don't want to hear about it.) It's doubly odd because prior to the hat comment, we were friends, in an office way. We used to have these pleasant half hour talks whenever he came in, about his family and girlfriend and my school and boyfriend and so on. Then all at once, complete unwillingness to acknowledge me.
At first I tried, like a fawning dog, to change the course of this weirdness by greeting him myself, trying to force him into eye contact, etc., because I can't stand having anyone dislike me. To quote the immortal Clueless, I was brutally rebuffed. So now I just want revenge. For a year, this guy has been walking into MY space and making me feel like shit whenever he wants to. How can I best kick some respect into his helmeted head? Help me out here.
Posted by didofoot at 03:40 PM | Comments (5)
October 20, 2004
Sock puppets, but not the Flea kind
My parents finally got a new dog who they've named after Sean's youngest sister. It's my hope that this mortal insult will make his family return our Scattergories game. So far it's not working, though it's possible that neighborhood gossip just hasn't reached their house yet. Our Molly is another black lab mix, which leads to lots of fun mix-ups when I see her out of the corner of my eye, think she is Roxie risen from the dead, and begin screaming "Zombie dog! Zombie dog! Everyone guard your brains!" Up close, of course, she is nothing like Roxie, who was nothing if not proportional. By contrast, Molly is gifted with an oversized head like the kid in So I Married An Axe Murderer which has already garnered her the nickname "Fathead" from my loving parents. I'd stick up for her but I'm just happy they're not using it on me anymore.
Molly is one of those sweet, cuddly dogs who wants to get as close as possible and will stand right on your feet to do it. This is adorable, unless you were planning on walking anywhere. Like me as a child, three year old Molly is afraid of enclosed spaces and the dark, so I predict my dad will enjoy tormenting her even as he did me by hiding in all the really black, grotty parts of the house during hide'n'seek and then jumping out at her. Unlike me, Molly can retaliate by whizzing on the floor when startled and will pretty much be able to get away with it.
In conclusion, puppets.
Posted by didofoot at 01:51 PM | Comments (1)
October 15, 2004
By the pricking of my thumbs...
The past few days have been full of portents. Spiders, blood, and at Wednesday's poker game I kept winning with the dead man's hand. Then this morning I came biking toward myself on Hearst, and the biker's face didn't resolve itself into a stranger's until just before the bike passed me. Yet, weirdly, absolutely nothing bad has happened to me so far. Some people might choose to stop believing in omens altogether after such a disappointing failure to signify anything real, but I know better. It might be in ten minutes or it might be ten years from now, but the next time something horrible happens, I will be able to say I saw it coming a mile away.
Posted by didofoot at 08:51 AM | Comments (5)
October 13, 2004
A brief description of President Bush as if he were my sub-par breakfast muffin
Thick, kind of crumby, and (judging from the stains on the bag), has strong ties to the oil industry. Makes me sick to my stomach with artificialness. Expensive. Cleverly packaged. Usually surrounded by at least eleven others of the same type. Horribly dense. Bad for children and other living things. And to make it worse, like so many Americans I asked for Gorange juice but all I got was this.
Posted by didofoot at 12:42 PM | Comments (3)
October 08, 2004
The A-SUCK, folk songs, and girls with squeaky voices
My family and I went to the memorial service for free speech being held in Sproul Plaza today. I particularly enjoyed the participation of the ASUC. Now pay attention, Alanis, because this is ironic. The ASUC recently gave our own Holohan a cartload of grief over his campaign speech, yet today they were proudly blahing about their commitment to keeping the free speech movement alive. (Everyone involved resolutely ignored the dessicated corpse of said free speech movement, which was being eaten by dingoes in one corner of the Plaza.)
We had our revenge on your behalf, though, Holohan. I and a bunch of original hippies were sitting on the steps in front of Sproul and were continually harassed by the ineffectual sorority-shod staff of the ASUC to move somewhere else "because we have to, um, keep this area clear? For, um, safety? So is it okay if you, um, go somewhere else?" No one did move though. Free speech might be dead but we'll be damned if we're going to shift our acid flashbacking bones just to please a couple of tarted up Cindis who think they understand political activism. It was like our very own sit-in. It was inspiring. From now on, no one is going to interfere with my right to sit on cold concrete and listen to folk songs! And I mean no one! And Holohan, you go ahead and say fuck all you want, because the ASUC is going down!
Posted by didofoot at 04:19 PM | Comments (1)
October 06, 2004
Everyone and the Lad's sister is doing it
I recently attended the Lad's sister's wedding. Watching Em and Geoff stand in front of everyone they love and speak their self-written vows made me realize that I can never, ever, in a million years be brave enough to display that much sincerity (i.e. any at all) in front of a gathering of my peers. You people would eat me alive. Only by speaking our vows in rhyme, or while facing other people, or while dressed as pirates could we express a true emotion when everyone was listening. Can you even imagine watching us try to do things the normal way? Perhaps we could get through it if we were careful to deliver our vows in a really bored tone, or if we changed the traditional bridal wear from "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" to "something that belonged to my great-aunt, something non sequitur, something from a thrift store, something so ugly it's cool." It might all be worth it for the gifts, though. We could really use some new flatware.
Luckily, Em and Geoff have better friends than the likes of you people and the reception was fun and sarcasm-free. Congratulations, Mr. & Mrs. McAlpin, and thank you for helping to take a bite out of irony.
Pictures of the event taken by the Lad and Jesse, can be found here.
Posted by didofoot at 11:15 AM | Comments (0)
