gov: "any reason you're handwriting all of these checks, now?"
me: "we don't have a typewriter anymore."
*gov points to computer*
me: ...."that's a computer."
gov: "no it's not."
...
i just don't--
i can't--
it doesn't--
...i have nothing to say.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
interlude
all right. i've been silent long enough.
it's time you people met my friend sean.
by "you people" i mean any eligible girls. seriously, friends, i don't get what your deal is.
sean: bro what happened to me
sean: i can't get a girl, with diamonds on the floor and a net hanging over it
me: hahahaha
sean: my roommates are pullin hunnies
sean: and i am, umm, talking about my laptop
interesting gender confusion aside (bro?), we find ourselves at case and point 1: he's funny! AND computer savvy. what more could a woman want? i mean, really?
sean: the thing is, girls i know say, "sean, you're my favorite because you're the most fun. I have friends coming up and i want to hook you up."
case and point 2: the fun one! who doesn't love the fun one? ps, i have an in with this particular apartment (as i have BEEN in this particular apartment) and i can categorically say it is one of the funnest apartments ever. and, incidentally, maybe the cleanest. due to a lot of aaroning* (by all three roommates).
sean: i am not a great first impression guy
sean: i don't know if it is my height or what. but a girl needs to meet me like 3 times to start feeling me
me: yeah?
sean: yeah because on first meeting 50% of girls think i am cute, 70% think i am nice, 45% think i am fun, 30% think i am funny and 80% think i am weird
sean: but that all balances out when they start to understand my humor
sean: then that changes
me: yeah, i guess that's true
sean: the cute goes up, but only slightly... I tend to be nice and smile a lot in front of new people so that number can only drop as they meet me more. the fun usually goes up unless they catch me when i am sick. the funny is the thing that usually sky rockets... i would say from 30% to about 67% with in the first 3 meetings. The weird never drops unless someone really gets to know me.
sean: so i would say that it will never get under 65% but i like it that way
sean: because i can keep people at the distance i want them
me: yeah
sean: i don't know if you can handle all that math before 10am
sean: but if you want me to repeat it later just let me know
case and point 3: funny! and self-aware. and sort of a math whiz (?). and ps, don't worry, he's got a reverse-napolean-complex where he thinks he is (a) shorter than he is (not very; my height exactly and i'm supposedly tall), and (b) worse looking than he is (i'd venture to say "wicked cute" when describing him). so, there's that.
so ladies, get on this! i'm not one to pimp friends out (ever, really; particularly not on my blog), but this seemed like as valid a venue as anything else...
and sean, you can just pay me back in falafel next time you're in RI. or, y'know, i take cash.
*aaron (aah-ron)
v. aaroned, aaron·ing, aarons
1. To clean excessively/impulsively/compulsively: "i aaroned the crap out of my apartment the other day"; "i'm aaroning my apartment this weekend for sure."
2. To don a sweater vest: then he aaroned his outfit a little, and was good to go.
3. To spend (a period of time) by or as if by aaroning: aaroned the evening away.
it's time you people met my friend sean.
by "you people" i mean any eligible girls. seriously, friends, i don't get what your deal is.
sean: bro what happened to me
sean: i can't get a girl, with diamonds on the floor and a net hanging over it
me: hahahaha
sean: my roommates are pullin hunnies
sean: and i am, umm, talking about my laptop
interesting gender confusion aside (bro?), we find ourselves at case and point 1: he's funny! AND computer savvy. what more could a woman want? i mean, really?
sean: the thing is, girls i know say, "sean, you're my favorite because you're the most fun. I have friends coming up and i want to hook you up."
case and point 2: the fun one! who doesn't love the fun one? ps, i have an in with this particular apartment (as i have BEEN in this particular apartment) and i can categorically say it is one of the funnest apartments ever. and, incidentally, maybe the cleanest. due to a lot of aaroning* (by all three roommates).
sean: i am not a great first impression guy
sean: i don't know if it is my height or what. but a girl needs to meet me like 3 times to start feeling me
me: yeah?
sean: yeah because on first meeting 50% of girls think i am cute, 70% think i am nice, 45% think i am fun, 30% think i am funny and 80% think i am weird
sean: but that all balances out when they start to understand my humor
sean: then that changes
me: yeah, i guess that's true
sean: the cute goes up, but only slightly... I tend to be nice and smile a lot in front of new people so that number can only drop as they meet me more. the fun usually goes up unless they catch me when i am sick. the funny is the thing that usually sky rockets... i would say from 30% to about 67% with in the first 3 meetings. The weird never drops unless someone really gets to know me.
sean: so i would say that it will never get under 65% but i like it that way
sean: because i can keep people at the distance i want them
me: yeah
sean: i don't know if you can handle all that math before 10am
sean: but if you want me to repeat it later just let me know
case and point 3: funny! and self-aware. and sort of a math whiz (?). and ps, don't worry, he's got a reverse-napolean-complex where he thinks he is (a) shorter than he is (not very; my height exactly and i'm supposedly tall), and (b) worse looking than he is (i'd venture to say "wicked cute" when describing him). so, there's that.
so ladies, get on this! i'm not one to pimp friends out (ever, really; particularly not on my blog), but this seemed like as valid a venue as anything else...
and sean, you can just pay me back in falafel next time you're in RI. or, y'know, i take cash.
*aaron (aah-ron)
v. aaroned, aaron·ing, aarons
1. To clean excessively/impulsively/compulsively: "i aaroned the crap out of my apartment the other day"; "i'm aaroning my apartment this weekend for sure."
2. To don a sweater vest: then he aaroned his outfit a little, and was good to go.
3. To spend (a period of time) by or as if by aaroning: aaroned the evening away.
Friday, January 25, 2008
this story is from a while ago, the first few months i worked here. i almost can't believe i haven't added it to the collection yet, but here it is just the same...
probably the third month i worked here, the governor was told he had bladder cancer. he had a procedure done and whatever it was got removed, tested, and ended up not really being so much "cancerous" as just "something we decided to charge you a lot to cut out of your body, governor." it's a story i have had to hear, type into letters, and tell to people visiting more times than i'd really like to admit.
the doctors suggested that, as both a precaution and a general good idea, the governor start drinking more water. this is not bad advice, and is also something that every single member of his family felt the need to call and tell me, every day over the course of a week. finally, at the end of that week, i informed the governor that i was going to buy a case of bottled water and have him drink one bottle a day.
"why?"
"well," i explained, "because it's a good idea." when met with a blank stare, i went on "listen, you're supposed to drink eight glasses a day, but if you did that, i suspect that your new hobby would be peeing. i'm asking for one bottle a day. that's it."
"but why?"
i tried to explain that his family was worried about him, that it was something everyone is supposed to do anyway, that it's healthy, smart, et cetera.
after a long pause, he spoke, visibly annoyed. "my dear," he began, "i was in the FUCKING UNDERGROUND. i didn't drink a goddamn glass of water then, and i survived THAT. i don't need to start now."
for those of you keeping score, i'll let you know that i did not end up buying that case of water. the same bottle has been sitting on is desk since probably october. we moved offices the week after christmas and the bottle moved with us. i'm looking at it right now.
lesson of the day: if one did not need to drink one "goddamn" glass of water in nazi occupied france during the 1940s, one need not begin said habit now.
even if one recently celebrated his 88th birthday.
probably the third month i worked here, the governor was told he had bladder cancer. he had a procedure done and whatever it was got removed, tested, and ended up not really being so much "cancerous" as just "something we decided to charge you a lot to cut out of your body, governor." it's a story i have had to hear, type into letters, and tell to people visiting more times than i'd really like to admit.
the doctors suggested that, as both a precaution and a general good idea, the governor start drinking more water. this is not bad advice, and is also something that every single member of his family felt the need to call and tell me, every day over the course of a week. finally, at the end of that week, i informed the governor that i was going to buy a case of bottled water and have him drink one bottle a day.
"why?"
"well," i explained, "because it's a good idea." when met with a blank stare, i went on "listen, you're supposed to drink eight glasses a day, but if you did that, i suspect that your new hobby would be peeing. i'm asking for one bottle a day. that's it."
"but why?"
i tried to explain that his family was worried about him, that it was something everyone is supposed to do anyway, that it's healthy, smart, et cetera.
after a long pause, he spoke, visibly annoyed. "my dear," he began, "i was in the FUCKING UNDERGROUND. i didn't drink a goddamn glass of water then, and i survived THAT. i don't need to start now."
for those of you keeping score, i'll let you know that i did not end up buying that case of water. the same bottle has been sitting on is desk since probably october. we moved offices the week after christmas and the bottle moved with us. i'm looking at it right now.
lesson of the day: if one did not need to drink one "goddamn" glass of water in nazi occupied france during the 1940s, one need not begin said habit now.
even if one recently celebrated his 88th birthday.
how do you spell that?
i have written in the past about an individual spelling out words and/or names using other words (a as in ant, b as in boy, c as in cat, and so on), and how i find it annoying. never before did i actually believe it could be thought as borderline offensive.
that is, until monday night.
now, admittedly, i started writing this post before christmas. i can now officially say that i have no idea on what actual date this happened. apparently it was a monday, but that's all i've got. however, the point behind this particular disclaimer is that i still remember with alarming vividness exactly what i was referring to many moons ago.
to make an annoyingly long story short(er), the governor's best friend at the university is a man who we'll call bob (namely because, uhh, that's his name). bob has a dear friend from england who intended to spend the winter in the florida keys, but upon applying for a visa for his extended stay, found out that there was something trivial on his criminal record that made it impossible. suffice it to say one teeny, tiny mistake made on a (drunken?) night in vegas about 40 years ago has come back to haunt him and somehow made him seem like someone not terribly appealing to let back into the country. who knew underage gambling was akin to terrorism?
the governor offered his services to help bob's friend, and this included calling every member of the state superior court until he could get one on the phone. being a man of such incredible importance (...?), he couldn't be bothered to explain the situation and instead informed the man he got in touch with that his friend bob would be calling him back the following day.
what followed this were several phone calls and long and angry (and LONG) messages on bob's various answering machines, until he finally answered at home. based on the fact that no one who knows the guy the governor was referring to is probably ever going to read this...but also being a product of the Google revolution, i won't say what the court member's name was, but i will tell you it was difficult to understand (i know i wouldn't have been able to guess how to spell it), and bob asked to have it spelled out. this annoyed the governor, and he explained it as such:
"it's S as in SHIT. H as in HELL. E as in...whatever E stands for. K as in KISS, A as in ASS, R as in...REAR...C as in" --i would like to interject here, dear reader, that i do not use the word "C" stood for, but i'm sure you, being of sound mind, could probably guess (and if you cannot, i would like to first of all commend your charming naiveness, and second of all hint that it is a fairly vulgar word for a part of the female anatomy)-- "H as in HARD ON, and I as in INTERCOURSE."
angrily, the phone is hung up.
i am looking around, trying to find something to end my life. could i just crawl under the desk and hide until he leaves? maybe if i throw the stapler at him, it'll jog something in his brain that will keep things like that from ever happening again.
"wow," says my 87 year old boss. "i never knew joe had such a sexy last name!"
that is, until monday night.
now, admittedly, i started writing this post before christmas. i can now officially say that i have no idea on what actual date this happened. apparently it was a monday, but that's all i've got. however, the point behind this particular disclaimer is that i still remember with alarming vividness exactly what i was referring to many moons ago.
to make an annoyingly long story short(er), the governor's best friend at the university is a man who we'll call bob (namely because, uhh, that's his name). bob has a dear friend from england who intended to spend the winter in the florida keys, but upon applying for a visa for his extended stay, found out that there was something trivial on his criminal record that made it impossible. suffice it to say one teeny, tiny mistake made on a (drunken?) night in vegas about 40 years ago has come back to haunt him and somehow made him seem like someone not terribly appealing to let back into the country. who knew underage gambling was akin to terrorism?
the governor offered his services to help bob's friend, and this included calling every member of the state superior court until he could get one on the phone. being a man of such incredible importance (...?), he couldn't be bothered to explain the situation and instead informed the man he got in touch with that his friend bob would be calling him back the following day.
what followed this were several phone calls and long and angry (and LONG) messages on bob's various answering machines, until he finally answered at home. based on the fact that no one who knows the guy the governor was referring to is probably ever going to read this...but also being a product of the Google revolution, i won't say what the court member's name was, but i will tell you it was difficult to understand (i know i wouldn't have been able to guess how to spell it), and bob asked to have it spelled out. this annoyed the governor, and he explained it as such:
"it's S as in SHIT. H as in HELL. E as in...whatever E stands for. K as in KISS, A as in ASS, R as in...REAR...C as in" --i would like to interject here, dear reader, that i do not use the word "C" stood for, but i'm sure you, being of sound mind, could probably guess (and if you cannot, i would like to first of all commend your charming naiveness, and second of all hint that it is a fairly vulgar word for a part of the female anatomy)-- "H as in HARD ON, and I as in INTERCOURSE."
angrily, the phone is hung up.
i am looking around, trying to find something to end my life. could i just crawl under the desk and hide until he leaves? maybe if i throw the stapler at him, it'll jog something in his brain that will keep things like that from ever happening again.
"wow," says my 87 year old boss. "i never knew joe had such a sexy last name!"
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