From an unnamed university in the greater San Francisco Bay Area...
Back in our halcyon days, K and I did a little volunteering at a summer camp. Said camp had a lot of silly traditions, many of which I found unbearable, but there was one that I absolutely loved called Rock N Roll Breakfast.
When it was time for the kids to finish their breakfast and clear the table, one of the staff members would put on some bad 80s music and everyone who was so inclined would dance around the dining hall, clearing plates and wiping tables like they were in some sort of terrible cleaning product commercial. If a classic such as "Livin' a Prayer" or "Don't Stop Believing" was played, cleaning could be abandoned altogether in favor of some serious lip syncing and conga line action. I always found that Rock N Roll Breakfast could energize me in a way that my 3 cups of bad coffee never did and decided to employ the same technique in my own life when I found myself dragging in the morning before work.
And boy was I dragging this morning. In addition to working on Sunday for our big event, I also had long hours Monday-Wednesday, making sure our special guests had everything they needed while they were visiting. The event, I'm happy to say, was a complete success, but I am still wiped from it all, so to get myself amped for this morning's 9:00am meeting with our graphic designer, I had to pull out the big guns: Lionel Richie.
Please enjoy:
Lionel Richie - Dancing On The Ceiling
Uploaded by jpdc11. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.
March 11, 2010
March 10, 2010
Day Won
From an unnamed production office for an undisclosed television show in an address-withheld building in LA where the elevators are shockingly slow...
Boy is this a day. Yes. This day is Wednesday. And boy have I done stuff. Yes. Some stuff has totally been done. I remember a few hours ago when I listened to some people I work with have a meeting that I was also physically present for. I also remember when I almost did one thing for my job, but then tried to do something else at the same time so didn't really do either at all. And at some point a phone rang. (Not mine.)
But I did concentrate my energy in a single place for three minutes and fifteen seconds. That is not an endorsement of this video, just a window into the one thing that captured my unbroken attention: People playing buckets, then wearing the buckets on their heads, then taking the buckets off their heads and playing them again. I give you this:
Boy is this a day. Yes. This day is Wednesday. And boy have I done stuff. Yes. Some stuff has totally been done. I remember a few hours ago when I listened to some people I work with have a meeting that I was also physically present for. I also remember when I almost did one thing for my job, but then tried to do something else at the same time so didn't really do either at all. And at some point a phone rang. (Not mine.)
But I did concentrate my energy in a single place for three minutes and fifteen seconds. That is not an endorsement of this video, just a window into the one thing that captured my unbroken attention: People playing buckets, then wearing the buckets on their heads, then taking the buckets off their heads and playing them again. I give you this:
I second that emotion
From an unnamed university in the greater San Francisco Bay Area...
So I just read K's post about workplace urinating and I have to say A-men, or whatever the secular equivalent would be, especially to item #1 (no pun intended). The restrooms in our building are locked, and only faculty, staff, and graduate students have a key. You would think, with such a limited amount of people, all of whom are most likely reasonably intelligent and very familiar with the mechanics of bathroom use, that the bathrooms would not get super disgusting, and yet they always do.
I have been known to walk into a stall and yell "Who in this godforsaken hell hole finds it so damn hard to flush?" (This is why I am known around the office as "Sunshine" btw). But seriously, who? I will grant whoever these people are that our toilets are slightly on the older side and do require a second or two of handle-holding-down to complete the transaction, but that it is all. It is not a difficult thing to do, and yet it appears that very few of my colleagues are willing to do it.
Additionally, and like K, I am also vain and like to spend time each day examining myself in our bathroom's full-length mirror. While I suppose it is technically not the fault of the rest of the bathroom-key-holding-community that they come into the bathroom with ninja-quality stealthness and bust me in my ass evaluating activities, I don't think it would KILL them to announce themselves so I could pretend to be drying my hands or something.
March 9, 2010
L M N O...
From an unnamed production office for an undisclosed television show in an address-withheld building in LA where the elevators are shockingly slow...
I have to admit something that, as a woman, I feel I shouldn't. But I will. Here in front of blog and everyone. Sometimes... I have to pee. At work even. And holy wow can that be a problem. Here are the top three reasons, in no particular order, that I resent having a bladder at the office:
1) You would think, as I work in an office with people who are responsible enough to, say, work in an office, that the ladies who use the bathroom could figure out how to not be disgusting. Not since my college dorm community bathrooms has gingerly tapping a stall door with the tip of my foot to see if there's nastiness that I should run from and burn from my mind seemed reasonable. When, first thing in the morning, I encounter the end result of some grown woman or another's decision to not cooperate with the automatic flush function, I begin an unparalleled desire to be a robot-human who never needed to visit this grody, windowless room.
2) I don't know how men roll, but ladies love making smiling eye contact as they hold the bathroom door for each other or when they brush blouses at the sink. Gross. "Hey, you're about to go do something weirdly private in this same public bathroom I just did something weirdly private in. Good morning! I love your lip gloss!" No.
3) Staff-wide meetings are already painful enough, but boy am I vain, and boy do I not make any money, and so boy do I drink a lot of water in hopes that that old-fashioned wisdom about hydrating keeping your skin looking young is true. Today, about 10 minutes into an hour-and-a-half long meeting, I wished that I had the ugliest most raisin-like face anyone had ever seen because the way that I needed to/was too embarrassed to get out of that conference room before my bladder exploded like a really well-aimed, terrifically far-thrown water balloon was unbelievable. As I sat there, willing death, I thought about how no one in all the months I've worked here has EVER gotten up from one of these meetings to go to the bathroom, and how maybe I could just pee in my seat and by a Passover miracle no one would notice, or maybe I could fake choking and get up as if on a desperate quest for water (I ultimately thought that aggressive coughing would not work in my favor biologically), or maybe I should try to rewrite the day's history and convince myself I had not had liters of water to drink at all, and that this was all mental and completely fixable. Not surprisingly, none of these options panned out, and the thought of being the first person in the history of staff meetings to have a bodily need was too humiliating to do anything but sit there tortured. So when the meeting ended, and I had my hand ON THE HANDLE of the door, and my boss remembered something else he wanted us all to come in and sit back down for, I became certain that I was Glenn Beck in a former life to deserve all this agony.
...And these are the reasons that I am in favor of machines running the world. I see no other way.
I have to admit something that, as a woman, I feel I shouldn't. But I will. Here in front of blog and everyone. Sometimes... I have to pee. At work even. And holy wow can that be a problem. Here are the top three reasons, in no particular order, that I resent having a bladder at the office:
1) You would think, as I work in an office with people who are responsible enough to, say, work in an office, that the ladies who use the bathroom could figure out how to not be disgusting. Not since my college dorm community bathrooms has gingerly tapping a stall door with the tip of my foot to see if there's nastiness that I should run from and burn from my mind seemed reasonable. When, first thing in the morning, I encounter the end result of some grown woman or another's decision to not cooperate with the automatic flush function, I begin an unparalleled desire to be a robot-human who never needed to visit this grody, windowless room.
2) I don't know how men roll, but ladies love making smiling eye contact as they hold the bathroom door for each other or when they brush blouses at the sink. Gross. "Hey, you're about to go do something weirdly private in this same public bathroom I just did something weirdly private in. Good morning! I love your lip gloss!" No.
3) Staff-wide meetings are already painful enough, but boy am I vain, and boy do I not make any money, and so boy do I drink a lot of water in hopes that that old-fashioned wisdom about hydrating keeping your skin looking young is true. Today, about 10 minutes into an hour-and-a-half long meeting, I wished that I had the ugliest most raisin-like face anyone had ever seen because the way that I needed to/was too embarrassed to get out of that conference room before my bladder exploded like a really well-aimed, terrifically far-thrown water balloon was unbelievable. As I sat there, willing death, I thought about how no one in all the months I've worked here has EVER gotten up from one of these meetings to go to the bathroom, and how maybe I could just pee in my seat and by a Passover miracle no one would notice, or maybe I could fake choking and get up as if on a desperate quest for water (I ultimately thought that aggressive coughing would not work in my favor biologically), or maybe I should try to rewrite the day's history and convince myself I had not had liters of water to drink at all, and that this was all mental and completely fixable. Not surprisingly, none of these options panned out, and the thought of being the first person in the history of staff meetings to have a bodily need was too humiliating to do anything but sit there tortured. So when the meeting ended, and I had my hand ON THE HANDLE of the door, and my boss remembered something else he wanted us all to come in and sit back down for, I became certain that I was Glenn Beck in a former life to deserve all this agony.
...And these are the reasons that I am in favor of machines running the world. I see no other way.
Wedded Miss
From an unnamed production office for an undisclosed television show in an address-withheld building in LA where the elevators are shockingly slow...
This morning I woke up for work and felt the love in air and the joy in my heart as I sprang out of bed, excitement and delight still coursing through me from last night's Bachelor wedding SPECTACULAR. The moving way that Molly's jet puffed hair was plastered to her reptilian face with pouring rain that- of course- we have yet to invent something to block from people's heads- especially brides- as it gushes from the sky; the noble choice to stop filming Bachelor Jason's five-year-old son after he shot the first half of the two-hour wedding epic, some other post-season specials after final roses and such, and that brief entire season of The Bachelor where he was televised meeting the all the reali-tarts his dad was dry humping; the inclusion of the newlyweds' most best closest friends who just happened to have appeared on previous seasons of their same franchise show, and who they also happen to not really have met before they all got sauced in the airport on the way there... It all filled me with romance and optimism. And wine. It filled me with a lot of wine.
But alas, I couldn't sit around in my own personal sunlight listening to the birds chirp and watching them sew me a dress all morning. No. It was time to go to work. And work... Well... It sure is half over for the day. Yup. Oh also I took a lunch break. Shaboom.
This morning I woke up for work and felt the love in air and the joy in my heart as I sprang out of bed, excitement and delight still coursing through me from last night's Bachelor wedding SPECTACULAR. The moving way that Molly's jet puffed hair was plastered to her reptilian face with pouring rain that- of course- we have yet to invent something to block from people's heads- especially brides- as it gushes from the sky; the noble choice to stop filming Bachelor Jason's five-year-old son after he shot the first half of the two-hour wedding epic, some other post-season specials after final roses and such, and that brief entire season of The Bachelor where he was televised meeting the all the reali-tarts his dad was dry humping; the inclusion of the newlyweds' most best closest friends who just happened to have appeared on previous seasons of their same franchise show, and who they also happen to not really have met before they all got sauced in the airport on the way there... It all filled me with romance and optimism. And wine. It filled me with a lot of wine.
But alas, I couldn't sit around in my own personal sunlight listening to the birds chirp and watching them sew me a dress all morning. No. It was time to go to work. And work... Well... It sure is half over for the day. Yup. Oh also I took a lunch break. Shaboom.
Darndest things
From an unnamed university in the greater San Francisco Bay Area...
My officemate has two kids. They're both girls, aged 5 and 1. The one-year-old is just generally adorable in the way that babies are, but the five-year-old is, in my mom's words, "a pistol." She is precocious and hilarious and one of my favorite kids ever.
At a New Year's Brunch at our boss's house, she overhead someone talking about New Year's Resolutions and asked me what they were. I explained them to her and asked if she could think of any for herself. She said, "No....but I can think of some for you!" Here they are:
1. Don't drink so much beer (Full disclosure: I was drinking a beer at the time she said this. It was not yet noon.)
2. Eat healthy foods.
3. Don't fill up on beer so that you can't eat healthy foods.
4. Don't be nasty.
5. Don't say no, say no thank you.
Genius, no? So on Sunday at our office social gathering thing, my officemate's husband came with the kids for a little while and the older daughter came over to where I was sitting and wanted to play with my iPhone. The following conversation resulted:
Child: Can I send an email to my mom?
S: Sure.
Child: Can I send an email to a stranger?
S: I don't know....
Child: Do you know any strangers?
S: Well if I know them, they're not strangers. But I guess they would be strangers to you. Does that make sense?
......long pause.....
Child: Just drink your beer.
My officemate has two kids. They're both girls, aged 5 and 1. The one-year-old is just generally adorable in the way that babies are, but the five-year-old is, in my mom's words, "a pistol." She is precocious and hilarious and one of my favorite kids ever.
At a New Year's Brunch at our boss's house, she overhead someone talking about New Year's Resolutions and asked me what they were. I explained them to her and asked if she could think of any for herself. She said, "No....but I can think of some for you!" Here they are:
1. Don't drink so much beer (Full disclosure: I was drinking a beer at the time she said this. It was not yet noon.)
2. Eat healthy foods.
3. Don't fill up on beer so that you can't eat healthy foods.
4. Don't be nasty.
5. Don't say no, say no thank you.
Genius, no? So on Sunday at our office social gathering thing, my officemate's husband came with the kids for a little while and the older daughter came over to where I was sitting and wanted to play with my iPhone. The following conversation resulted:
Child: Can I send an email to my mom?
S: Sure.
Child: Can I send an email to a stranger?
S: I don't know....
Child: Do you know any strangers?
S: Well if I know them, they're not strangers. But I guess they would be strangers to you. Does that make sense?
......long pause.....
Child: Just drink your beer.
March 8, 2010
Oscar Grouch
From an unnamed production office for an undisclosed television show in an address-withheld building in LA where the elevators are shockingly slow...
If I weren’t still a little hung over from the Oscars (earlier I took a teeny nap on my down vest as it hung on the back of my chair, like this sweet sleeping Oscar picture) I would come up with a really hi-larious awards list of my own for my office/coworkers. Like… Best Snack Brought For Sharing or Best Achievement in Not Being Annoying While You Did Your Job. But that sounds like quite a bit of work. And thinking. And consciousness.
But I don’t want it to seem as though I wasn’t on top of my game as far as getting my actual work done. Today I: Won online Scrabble against my coworker, made more than one person look at pictures of my dog from the weekend (one of him sleeping next to a champagne glass during the Oscars which I shoved in people’s faces until I felt that they had “Awwwww”ed sufficiently), played another game of Scrabble, debated whether or not Anne Frank: Werewolf Hunter is a valid book idea, hypothetically cast Anne Frank: Werewolf Hunter for the movie adaptation, and ate two brownies. Pretty much ready for my honorary Good Job! Oscar. Any day.
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