Monday, June 13, 2005
Frivolising
I almost miss the office thing of getting sent glurge and chain letters (pass this to 10 people within the next 24 hours or REAP THE WHIRLWIND, motherfucker) and miscellaneous crap that's meant to lighten your day but is mostly just uniquely depressing. (Where the hell is the Brief, anyway? Her Walkman, contact lens case and a single Silk Cut in its box have been here for two weeks now.)
Almost.
I did enjoy providing a public service by debunking some of the more outrageous inbox warnings via reply-all. Like the one about the Horse Pill of Feminine Doom. Sent to me by at least two women, who should both have known better. These things - the hoaxes, not the imaginary pills - are dangerous and depressing in so many ways. There should be a pill for over-developed panic reflex combined with extreme gullibility. It's the modern fucking malaise.
So here are some things that people would like to say to their colleagues.
"I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce."
"I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don't give a damn."
"I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you."
There are 37 more, but you really don't need to see those.
I must email B, flaxen-haired queen of college admin, with whom I was working relatively happily until I ruined everything by going back to my natural homeworking habitat and never looking back, heh heh. She was on Atkins, and it did bad things or at least prepared the ground or exacerbated an existing problem, and she's been waiting for an operation. She had three daughters who seemed like ungrateful little leeches. I liked her. I hope she's OK.
Do I miss working in an office? No. I miss the exercise I got walking there, given that I can't really walk the woof in his current volatile state, and I did enjoy the little satisfying things and the friendly wittering but I was never myself.
I never miss situations, I miss feelings and ideas. Stuff you never thought you would have to get your head around the absence of. And I miss missed opportunities to say things, although those didn't always exist, you just think they did.
It's nice though to have some idea of where the line is, where your personal responsibility ends and Shit Happens takes over.
The vet gave me a clicker. I've been averse to the things forever but I'm prepared to give it a go, even though I think it's sort of. . .patronising, trying to automate an animal via its most basic impulses. Although it can't compare to this. Jesus!
It's cold and wet and windy and I want some cake.
Almost.
I did enjoy providing a public service by debunking some of the more outrageous inbox warnings via reply-all. Like the one about the Horse Pill of Feminine Doom. Sent to me by at least two women, who should both have known better. These things - the hoaxes, not the imaginary pills - are dangerous and depressing in so many ways. There should be a pill for over-developed panic reflex combined with extreme gullibility. It's the modern fucking malaise.
So here are some things that people would like to say to their colleagues.
"I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce."
"I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don't give a damn."
"I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you."
There are 37 more, but you really don't need to see those.
I must email B, flaxen-haired queen of college admin, with whom I was working relatively happily until I ruined everything by going back to my natural homeworking habitat and never looking back, heh heh. She was on Atkins, and it did bad things or at least prepared the ground or exacerbated an existing problem, and she's been waiting for an operation. She had three daughters who seemed like ungrateful little leeches. I liked her. I hope she's OK.
Do I miss working in an office? No. I miss the exercise I got walking there, given that I can't really walk the woof in his current volatile state, and I did enjoy the little satisfying things and the friendly wittering but I was never myself.
I never miss situations, I miss feelings and ideas. Stuff you never thought you would have to get your head around the absence of. And I miss missed opportunities to say things, although those didn't always exist, you just think they did.
It's nice though to have some idea of where the line is, where your personal responsibility ends and Shit Happens takes over.
The vet gave me a clicker. I've been averse to the things forever but I'm prepared to give it a go, even though I think it's sort of. . .patronising, trying to automate an animal via its most basic impulses. Although it can't compare to this. Jesus!
It's cold and wet and windy and I want some cake.
