Mar
18
People who send huge print jobs to the only printer in the office (or near your desk) during the middle of the workday
People who have a shred of consideration for their fellow worker
So this is one of those things I’ve been meaning to bring up for a while and it just refreshed its relevance the other day when I was trying to print out a quick 1-pager. I walked over to the printer, and here was this girl printing out 5 copies of a presentation that itself was probably 50 slides long.
“It might be a while,” she says. “Big print job.”
“What is that for?” I ask, pulling up my calendar on my phone, ready to change my status to Tentative for whatever meeting is going to subject me to a 50-slide presentation where I’m told that one thing went up and another thing went down.
“It’s a budget meeting. Tomorrow, with Bill. I think you’re in it, right?”
Tentative set. “I’m not sure. I might have a conflict.”
Sorry dude, I’m printing War & Peace real quick. It’ll be a minute.
I’ve come up with a few names for this behavior, just now:
- Hewlett-Packing – “Dave is Hewlett-Packing again today. You might want to use the Bizhub if you need your print this year.”
- Canon Blasting – “Is that you Canon blasting the multifunction? I’m just trying to make a copy, bro, and you’ve got that thing busier than the free condom bowl at the Tri-Delt house.”
- Mi-nolta gonna get your print today
- Being an asshole
I do realize it says a lot about how nerdy I am that I can come up with such pun-tastic explosions of hilarity on the spot…about office printers. I’m okay with that.
Mar
12
On applause
Filed Under at work, in general | 5 Comments
People who are “safe” clappers
People who are bold clappers
I just got out of a conference today that was about as fun as when the school bully would stab your soccer ball. The conference was held at the Georgia Aquarium, so here you are thinking you’re going to be able to watch whales swim around while you eat free food and learn about something new, when you walk in the room and see the truth of the situation. By, “at the aquarium,” they meant, “in a conference room in the parking garage of the aquarium.” Soccer ball stabbed.
So, here we are in a typical meeting room with those vinyl chairs that make you sound like you’re farting every time you move, no whales, no fish, nothing. Fortunately, the topic was somewhat interesting, but the speaker went on talking past that point where it doesn’t matter how interesting things are, you have no attention left to give. If a neon orange monkey flew in the room and killed the lecturer, I literally might not have noticed.
Finally, the speaker wraps things up and then comes that magical moment when people ask themselves, “Was that good enough to clap for? I’ll wait and see what everyone else does.” Then, the pioneer (bold) clapper, whoever they are, gets the round of applause going. The middle (safe) clappers join in, sensing the time where the clap is running out of gas, and then quit. Then, the wrap-up (bold) clappers finish it off like those last few kernels of popcorn in the microwave.
I bet the girl in red is a first-clapper. Most people hate first-clappers.
Now, that’s a standard case, and more or less the way it went today. But my favorites are when the bold clappers get slapped down. You know, those times when one person gives about 2 and a half claps and then realizes they are alone. That’s priceless, as it’s humiliating for both the clapper and the speaker. Sadly, that did not happen today.
Bold clappers come in a critical third variety (beyond beginning clappers and popcorn clappers): the loud/distinct clapper. These are the people who cup their hands like they’re trying to crush an ostrich egg or the ones who are capable of making small nuclear explosions in their palms. The loud clap is not a talent, it is just an ability encoded in the DNA of assholes. I petition you now: please stop clapping like an idiot. The beginning/ending clappers have their place in this world: they fill a necessary role. You bring nothing to the table, just like your father told you when you were 7.
Feb
18
Doctors want to kill me
Filed Under health | 8 Comments
People who are cool with going to the doctor
People who think that getting blood drawn might actually kill them
So here’s a shot aimed squarely at myself. I had to go to the doctor this morning to have some blood drawn. This appointment has been on the books since about 10 days ago, meaning that I had 9 days to imagine just how bad it was going to be when the nurse started fishing around in the crook of my elbow for an un-findable vein, eventually moving the needle around so much that it would cut my arm in half and send a blood shower across the room.
The events that transpired this morning were a little less exciting than I had originally imagined.
In case you were wondering who I’m expecting to see in the exam room when I’m sitting in a hospital…
I am a complete chicken when it comes to doctors and hospitals. I build it up in my mind that everything is going to hurt super bad, that little needles are going to tear my flesh open, that when I stick my tongue out and say, “Ahh,” the doctor is going to say something along the lines of, “MY GOD! Dr. Linda Sashimi (only women and Asians get into medical school any more), get in here! We have a case of Multiple Parkinscoliosisitis of the tongue. We must operate now! The procedure is going to involve tearing your arms and legs off with no anesthesia, dipping you in gasoline, and lighting you on fire as you listen to When a Man Loves A Woman.”
I am one of those people that avoids talking to the doctor about my problems because I’m worried about what the answers might be. Sort of like those people who don’t open their bills, only it concerns my mortality.
If there are any doctors reading, I have a numbness in my left thigh. What is it? Only tell me if it’s not serious. Otherwise, I’d honestly just rather have it kill me.
Feb
17
Need directions?
Filed Under travel | 2 Comments
People with a good sense of direction
People who couldn’t find their way down a hill if they were strapped to a skateboard
Do you know anyone with a terrible sense of direction? I live with one. My wife, who I love dearly, could take a wrong turn on a chairlift. I bought her a talking GPS for her car, and I often imagine it saying, “Shit, woman. Where the hell are you going now?”
Come on, everyone! This way to the bottom!
I was born, as you might expect, with an excellent sense of direction (as I was born with many gifts, you see). Now before you go into this nonsense about how all men think they have a good sense of direction, let me stop you. It’s true. Your jealousy will get you nowhere.
I’ve put together the following 3-question test to help you determine if you are a good or bad navigator:
- Do you get off the elevator and turn the wrong direction to go to a place you’ve been before? Score 3 points if there are elevators on both sides of the hallway. Score 1,000 points if the elevators only let out on one side.
- Can you point to your mailbox from any room inside your home? Yes? Go check if you’re right. No? Score 5 points. Point in a direction more than 90-degrees off? Score 1,000 points.
- Have you ever actually driven or walked in a complete circle, recognizing a landmark you saw earlier? Score 1,000,000 points.
How did you do?
Jan
26
This blog is going to give you a virus
Filed Under technology | 5 Comments
People who are friendly with computers
People who think that one errant keypress can break your computer and/or cause your house to explode
How many people believe that this headline is true? It is. Run. No, just kidding. Don’t run. It’s too late – I already own your bank account.
I think that computers are great. I think they help you in almost every way. Want to see the best price on that toaster? Done. Want to take thousands of photographs and find the one you need in a near instant? Also done. Want to take Aretha’s hat and put it on your head? Computers to the rescue. Oh yeah, and I own your bank account. Not kidding.
But there seems to be an evil side to computers, too. Not the evil side where little Asian kids dream up viruses that are going to delete everything on your computer when you open that greeting card from yourFriendSlutPharmacy@yahoo.com, but the evil side where the computer itself just scares people.
Maybe it’s not just computers, but technology in general. How about when you buy your parents that new coffee pot with the automatic timer and built-in grinder. They already have the coffee pot that you plug into the wall and it makes coffee, and it took them 6 years to master that one. Now they’re staring at this new contraption with these bells and whistles, and all they can say is, “It looks like it just has more stuff that can break.”
That’s the cop out. People shroud their fear in cynicism. I was eating dinner with a couple that we’re friendly with – the guy is a geek like me and the girl is very funny and very not geeky. The guy and I start geeking out on how WordPress is cooler now, and the girl just starts making fun of us, making beepy-boop sounds like a 60′s Hollywood computer. But this girl is a traitor to herself: she just started a blog, and she’s trying to figure out how to doctor it up and get it moving, too. Well, she’s getting no help from me.
In another episode, my dad has this fancy remote that is said to make controlling his TV, stereo, DVD, etc. easier. It is not. This remote looks like you could start a car 3,000 miles away with it, and that’s exactly what must happen when you push its buttons because we’ve confirmed it doesn’t do anything to the television.
What my parents think happens to a mobile phone when they’re not looking.
This remote requires that everything electronic in the room be in a certain state (on/off/armed). If the stereo is on and the TV is off, it’ll just turn the TV on and the stereo off. You have to re-set it all if it doesn’t work, which is something you can’t do: owning this remote has replaced touching these dark metal boxes of electronics/explosives directly. They had a guest that fussed their equipment up, and the local geek squad guy charged them $300 to set it all up again. He probably just came in and pressed the power button. Easiest $300 in history.
I had planned to take more time/space to really dive more deeply into how disgusted I am with tech guys, geek squad, those other rapists, but I think I’ve run out of reader stamina. Just know that I hate these robbers because I should have thought of it first. That’s my $300. But there’s way more money in your bank account. Not kidding.
Jan
19
People who have completely absurd ringtones
People who have all-too-common ringtones
I’ve been accused, lately, of taking sides, so here’s one where we all lose. I hope you’re pleased.
About a week ago, I was sitting in a restaurant. The name of the restaurant isn’t important; what is important is that people must eat something immediately following the purchase of a new cell phone, without fail. How do I know this? Because restaurants are the official headquarters of the “find your new ringtone” process. And with all of that hustle-bustle going on, the new phone buyer is forced to complete their sonic expedition at maximum volume, alerting everyone in the restaurant and neighboring businesses if the phone was purchased at AT&T or T-Mobile with two of the most distinct and annoying series of notes ever put together by man.
Usually, the next ringtone in line tells you if the phone is an iPhone, a Nokia, a Samsung, a Motorola (God forbid), etc. The Nokia sets always sound like a broken Atari, the Samsungs have various ridiculousness, including cats meowing out jingle bells, giggling Chinese schoolgirls, or the strangely intense music that makes the owner of the handset sound like she’s in Mission Impossible every time Blockbuster calls to remind her that The Birdcage is due.
So this is where the crossroads happens. Usually at about the same time the bruschetta hits the table, the tone tester has settled down on one of two options: something that will give you instant-onset TMJ, or “Old Phone”. In my case that day, it was TMJ. More precisely, it was a T-Pain riff that I was able to successfully get out of my head just 9 short days later.
But on the other side of the coin, “Old Phone” is just as much of a tragedy. Do you remember those movies in the 90s where a phone would ring and about 20 people would pull their cell phone out and say, “Hello?” at the same time? Then one person would raise their handset, coiled wire going down to the briefcase-sized carrying case, and say, “It’s mine!”
“Old Phone”, or the ringtone where your mobile sounds like that flesh-tone phone in your grandmother’s house (the one where you have to hold the cord in just the right place to hear and not get that scratching noise), is on the other 50% of humanity’s cell phones, and on 98% of iPhones.
Guys normally have the phone in their pocket, often with the vibrate function on, so it’s easy to tell if it’s theirs or not, but girls with their purses are a whole different story. If churches wanted to double their tithes, they should play “Old Phone” over the speakers just as the baskets are beginning their round, opening 85% of the purses. Then, that penetrating stare from the preacher when the girl is caught with her purse open would really be effective.
So the moral of the story is this: there is no happy ending here. We are all doomed to listen to techno renditions of Canon in D or Old Phone for the rest of our lives. There is no winner. There are only losers. And you’re one of them.
I have “Old Phone”. What do you have? $0.01 to the first person to have the singing cats.
Yes, I know this one isn’t funny. It’s Monday.
Jan
16
Fear flying? Fear geese!
Filed Under travel | 5 Comments
People who are afraid of flying
People who have not been programmed by the media to think that every flight has a 97% chance of ending in your death, a very hurty, nasty death where you will probably catch on fire and drown at the same time because of light turbulence or someone leaving their cell phone on
So if you’re not living under a rock, you’ve heard about the plane crash in New York. You’ve also seen the spot-on reporting, reminding us all that the goose population has risen 400%, that the climate change is increasing turbulence, and that the majority of pilots prefer to fly just a little bit drunk. It helps take the edge off.
While we’ve had our eyes on Afghanistan, Canada has been raising and training geese in camps, virtually guaranteeing that double-engine bird strikes will happen on more flights originating near the Canadian border.
My wife is afraid of flying. Not really flying itself – the part in the middle. She’s just afraid of the “beginning to fly”, or takeoff, and the “almost no longer flying”, the landing. Statistically, these are the times when most accidents happen, but also statistically, you’re more likely to be attacked by a rabid unicorn than experience any sort of life-threatening issue on an airplane. So really, the fear is justified.
One of the things that always strikes me as funny is that my wife also hates it when the plane turns or banks somewhat sharply after takeoff. Inevitably, she looks over at me with perfectly round, bugged eyes and says, “Why are they turning? Why do they have to do that!?” I can’t resist: I almost always reply, “because we’re not going to Cuba today.”
This is not something she finds funny until much later in the day.
So listen: I can understand the fear of flying. The media gets a hold of this stuff and goes haywire. In their computer simulation of the “crash” yesterday, a “crash” pilots would probably describe as a “flight anomaly”, NBC this morning showed a model of the plane approaching the Hudson, nosediving, when in fact there is no way that the plane approached the water at that angle. If that were the case, there would be a wing wedged into the 65th floor of the Empire State building.
It bothers me that the media is sensationalizes this stuff to the point of making people abandon the safest mode of travel in existence. Who wouldn’t look at a plane approaching water at a 45-degree angle and think, “If I was on that flight, I would be sitting in my own doo-doo.” But those weren’t the facts of the case.
The irony of this all is that a big news post went out just the day before this incident, saying that we’ve gone two years without a fatality from a major airliner accident. We still haven’t, but there’s no doubt in my mind that yesterday has grounded more than a few people.
So a positive message today, folks. Go get help with your fear of flying. It’ll help you in other places, too.
Jan
14
I hate your fancy pizzas
Filed Under food and eating | 8 Comments
People who like pizza
People who like a pizza-like meal that has barbeque chicken, pineapple, and/or gyro meat on it
Last night, I joined a handful of fellow Atlanta bloggers at a pizza joint. It was an interesting experience. Most of the people were pretty nice, some of the people were pretty normal, and at least one person was pretty cool. Some of the time.
But aside from that, I learned an interesting lesson: you can learn a lot about a person by the type of pizza they order.
What happens when a Whole Foods yoga treehugger gets a hold of a pizza. New rule: if you can no longer see the cheese, it is not a pizza. Unless it’s a meat lovers and the cheese is being covered by our tasty animal friends.
I blame California Pizza Kitchen for this nonsense: Thai pizza. Gyro pizza. BBQ chicken pizza (which is actually okay). White pizza (WTF!?!). Broccoli on pizza. None of these are good situations.
I’m a believer that pizza comes with cheese (if you’re on a diet), pepperoni (if you’re know what stairs are), and maybe some sausage, mushroom, or garlic can be thrown on if you’re on a date that’s going badly. This experimentation is uncalled for. If I want a gyro, I’ll eat a gyro. If I want a salad, I’ll order a salad. But when I’m hungry for pizza, I don’t want a gyro salad pizza.
I only bring this up because I worry about the implications. I think we’re on a slippery slope here: pizza is a gateway food and we’re seeing this experimentation take hold in tacos, too. We have fried chicken tacos, asian tacos, desert tacos, and more. Will our children be eating buffalo chicken Golden Grahams? This is a future I don’t want to see.
~ Other stuff ~
This group has a pretty fun activity of passing a napkin around where you write the answer to a single question. The question last night was, “What is your biggest pet peeve?” When I found out this was the question, I was about half a PSI from total skull explosion. Seriously? Someone asking me what my biggest pet peeve is? Um, can I answer infinity times?
Jan
12
Sports Fans . . . you look completely retarded
Filed Under sports | 11 Comments
People who express their support for a sports team in healthy ways.
The average American sports fan.
With the college football national championship behind us and another Utah scandal brewing (a 13-0 ratio of wins to losses edging out their 12-1 ratio of wives to husbands), it’s time to take a look at the American sports fan – a rare mix of zeal, obesity, and outfits that make Richard Simmons look like Clint Eastwood.
One of these people is a sports fan, and the other is preparing to kill a gazelle and complete his rite of passage. Can you tell who is who? Hint: one looks like he’s already eaten a gazelle for breakfast, so it’s probably not him.
Nothing will change the course of history less than a football game. So what is wrong with us that we make such idiots of ourselves in the name of sports? I think I have it figured out:
Americans like people who can have sex with anyone they want, and we do whatever is possible to become a part of that institution. It applies in the opposite direction, too. Why do you think we make fun of the theater dorks in college, and now we hang on every word of Sean Penn’s astute political advice? Why do we stuff that kid that plays trumpet in a locker, only to go to his jazz concerts and get his autograph 20 years later? Why do we listen to sports analyses like “110%”, “leave it on the field”, “and “they just outplayed them” and think that these are glimpses into the genius of the athelete’s mind? ”They outplayed them?” Are you kidding me? Someone let cancer know we’re about to outplay it. All it takes is heart, right?
So really, this all just boils down to living vicariously through something we really only have a relationship with through clothing, vehicle accessories, and of course, food. Someone sent me this picture last week:
If you experience an erection lasting more than four hours, eat this doughnut. That should fix it. Forever.
It’s an orange and blue doughnut, which I’m sure would have the same effect on you as washing your hair with CLR for a year. And while this doughnut says, “I’m willing to get cancer to support my team,” sports fans really don’t have to go that far. There are tons of other pastries that won’t take a 12 years off your life, but are still a light and fluffy symbol that this party is hosted by someone who might not be able to point to Europe on a map, but can tell you the third-string quarterback’s home town. And can’t point to that on a map, either.
Tennessee cake – $45.
Career-limiting facial hair – $0.
Wedding in a log cabin – $400.
Drunk wedding photographer taking pictures at a 12-degree angle – $250.
Toasting to your future with plastic solo cups – $8.
A blank stare on your wife’s face for the next 50 years – priceless.
And how about this: isn’t it odd how much sports inspire people to put dumb crap on their heads?
“Has anyone seen my baseball?”
“Grrrrr! I’m a moron!”
Do I like sports? Yes. Am I going to make myself look like a complete idiot? Um . . . do you get more sex?
Jan
8
A new year, a new diet, a new failure
Filed Under food and eating | 7 Comments
People who start the new year with a ridiculous diet and/or exercise regimen
People who are still sticking to their diet and/or exercise on January 9th
I owe many, many people credit for this idea (through their actions, not conscious recommendations), but just one person lit the fuse a few days ago. In fact, I’m meeting this person for lunch today, so we had to plan accordingly. I would usually embellish this part, saying that we have to go to a restaurant that serves raw chicken meat and slices of american cheese with a nice glass of fiber-max colon blaster, but we’re actually going to a normal restaurant where, doubtlessly, a somewhat awkward and uncomfortable order will be placed. Or, it would be awkward, but the waiters probably get special training at the end of December for this sort of thing.
I’ll have one ham and cheese sandwich, hold the bread, cut the cheese into 1/4″ cubes, and trim the edges off the ham, wrapped in a whole-wheat pita pocket dipped in water. No, wait, Oprah said soy paper. And a side salad with a 1/64th teaspoon of no-fat ranch dressing, seeds removed from the tomatoes, and croutons made from compressed prunes. And a 64 oz. diet coke. Oh, and can I go ahead and pre-order the key lime pie now?
I’ve been long confused (and once drawn in) by diets that are dreamed up by people whose brains produce the same output as the south end of a northbound elephant. I tried the no-carb thing for about 32 minutes last year. It didn’t work out for me.
But there are so many people who give these zero-something diets a shot each January. Zero carbs, zero fat, or zero protein. Considering that there are three nutritional things that your body needs to survive, and these just happen to be the three, it strikes me as a little strange that we try this stuff out, but we do. I honestly have never met a single person who stuck to one of these zero-diets and didn’t end up in the doctor’s office with fragile bones, sleepless nights, or a major toilet issue. I’m not prepared, personally, to trade food for any of those three things.
But I suppose I should wish you all good luck. Good luck with your zero diets. Good luck with your Tae-Bo, volume 23. Good luck with your office-chair kegel exercises and your 7-minute abs. Good luck with Tony Little, Susan Powder, Richard Simmons, Chuck Norris, or whoever becomes the next celebrity home fitness guru with absurd hair. You’re going to need it.