DaFuq.

  • Why does the hold music on every conference call bridge I call into sound like bad porn tuneage?
  • My office phone isn’t working.  I don’t know whether to be irritated or relieved.
  • Why does my office smell like pumpkin?  And I don’t mean that super-awesome pumpkin pie-like smell.  This smells like gutted jack-o-lantern pumpkin.
  • Why is this pile of chocolate on my desk looking strangely appealing?  I dislike chocolate.
  •  There’s a woman in my office complex who drives an antiquated, lumbering RV to work every day.  Her average speed is approximately 5mph, which makes it decisively inconvenient to get into the parking lot and park your car with any certain level of expediency or efficiency.  Out of curiosity, once I decided to pseudo-stalk her by peering at her vehicle from between our creative director’s blinds in his office.  (Despite his expected confusion with regards to my presence at his office windows he humored me nonetheless…)
    After a considerable amount of time (and by considerable, I mean approximately 20 minutes) the door finally stirred, and with a great deal of effort she lumbered out of what is presumably her home-away-from-home.  This led to a string of conversations theorizing about her pre-disembarkation practices within; including basic hygiene, housekeeping, tending to her menagerie of cats (the existence of felines has not been proven, we are making a judgement call), and watching re-runs of St. Elsewhere on VHS.  We then decided getting to work would be a good idea.
  • Why are college kids so navigationally challenged?  A large porion of my pedestrian commute home involves a one-mile trek through the University of Washington campus and surrounding area.  Which ultimately involves wading through swarms of aimless, perpetually disoriented UW denizens.  Most of the time they are so clueless because they are attempting to get from point A to point B while simultaneously trying to operate some variant of technological gadgetry.  This is apparently an insurmountable task.  I have, as of late, taken to subtly body-slamming them in order to get my point across.  Sadly, they rarely notice.
  • My neighbors panhandle on the I-5 on-ramp with signs that read “homeless.  anything helps”.  This is a blatant lie.  I have a view from my upstairs bathroom into their living room where I see them in front of their wide-screen TV eating takeout and getting whiffs of rather foul-smelling weed.  I’m not spying on them deliberately, mind you.  They just have very large picture windows and it’s just hard to avoid.  Perhaps I should buy them some miniblinds.  I wonder if that falls under the rubric of “anything helps”.
  • How did Taylor Swift get onto my Spotify playlist?  I feel violated.
  • There are Nerf darts with “Thug Lyfe” and “Azn Pryde” written in Sharpie on them placed strategically on my desk.  Puzzlement abounds.
  • The apple on my desk is wearing my sunglasses.  (The fruit, not the laptop.)  Weird.

fin.

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