The @-Work Nettwerk
Mundane Tasks and Capitalist Pig-Dog Commands

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Volume Twenty-Three:
A Bootylicious Threat to Good Christians Everywhere

Today's Golden Cubicle Award goes to Minnesotan Matt Weier, who apparently told this story in such a way that it made fellow Minnesotan Erik Williamsen, and I quote, "shit my pants." I guess its so cold that they just do that up there. :
**I came to work one groggy morning only to discover my next-cube neighbor discussing how her daughter had pulled the skin off their hamster the night before. The thing was running around the room with a tiny skeletal tail hanging from its ass. I tried tuning her out to regain some sense of normality, only to hear a different coworker discussing midgets on tricycles. I wonder if midgets like skeleton-assed hamsters.**

I hate it when people talk to me in the bathroom.

A thought for the day, from the Detroit 150-beats per minute hard core booty rap scene:
Make dem bitches buy you weeeeeeeed, tell dem get down on der kneeeeees.
Make dem bitches buy you boooooooooze tell dem bitches what to doooooooo.

I also hate it when people talk to me when I'm not in the bathroom.

A friend noticed that one radio station in Boston plays the song "Wild Thing" continuously. As in, that's all it plays. Ever. I was bored at work today, and so I decided to listen to the radio. Ask me how many times I've heard "Wild Thing."

http://www.mulletsgalore.com

Today at work I was trying to think of things that I haven't thought about in years. The only thing I could come up with was the word "gerund."

I hate New Jersey even more than people who live in New Jersey must hate New Jersey. For the record, I did enjoy hearing Slayer and Napalm Death on Princeton University radio (Heavy Metal Ivy League?), and I much preferred driving the New Jersey turnpike and attending New Jersey traffic court over going to work.

I hired the mildly fugly intern instead of the strapping (yet frightfully straight) intern because it makes me feel good to know that I am the best looking person in my office.

I actually went back over an internal email before sending it to change the whole thing to lowercase so that I would seem "with it".

"Workin' all week, 9 to 5 for my money/When the weekend comes, I go get live with my honeys..." or is it "high with my honeys"? Damn, how many times do I have to listen to this damn song to get the lyrics?! (note from the hip-hop savvy ubermensch: I think its actually--go get FLY with the honeys-whatever the fuck that means.) (note from the web bitch: My co-worker and I both think that it's I go get LIVE with the honeys)

"The virus is the cancer of ambition." I found this quote in the book I'm reading. The quote is a discussion of celebrity and its temptations, its net, said in reference to fears concerning Pierre Boulez's conducting career eclipsing his composition; though, really, isn't it more, and suprisingly applicable to clerical work?

I drove one of the black government cars to Rhode Island with some co-workers last week. We noticed that people were staring at us, we think because of the government plates. We decided that the next time we were in the car, we would all wear black suits and sunglasses. I plan to wear deep red lipstick too. The next trip to Providence is soon...

I have a bookshelf with a coffee maker and small packs of coffee to make for my department. My supervisor commented on the coffee: "Colombian Supremo? That's too latin for me; it's like adding an 'O' to the Supremes."

Just now in the bathroom there were two other women inside. Then I noticed that we were all wearing the same long black skirts and long-sleeved blue shirts. I had the urge to pull all their hair out and spill paint all over their clothes. But I didn't, because I'm better than that.

We have a new rug in the office. It squeaks.

I've discovered something that is worse than my job: this year's flu. I would much rather be at work. And what REALLY bites is that I'm going to miss meeting Janet Reno, which would have been a source of great humor for weeks. Life is so unfair.

Sometimes I feel like my job is a waste of time; that it could be done by a monkey, that I am a sellout unworthy of living. Then I think of how my office has Pentel RSVP pens, while so many other offices just have Papermate or Write Bros. That makes me feel better.

I'm thinking of installing a bicycle mirror on my monitor so that I can tell if anyone comes in the door while I'm surfing the Web. Of course, I don't have anything _else_ to do, so I'd shut down the browser only to stare at a blank document screen. Maybe I could begin compiling an anthology of poetry about midgets.

Sometimes to relieve my boredom I take a trip to the bathroom. The faucet is one of those kinds that you push and the water only flows for a limited time. I like to "race" the water to see if I can wet my hands, lather, and rinse before the faucet turns off. So far I have done it twice.

Sometimes instead of getting up out of my chair to get a file, I use my feet to propel my chair forward, all the while pretending that I am driving a car in the big city. If I back up I make beeping noises like trucks.

I chugged a screwdriver during the lunch break at our monthly coalition meeting. Then I giggled.

Volume Twenty-Four:
Even Puff Daddy Can't Shoot Down The Nettwerk

Today's Golden Cubicle Award Goes to Tetsuo Shima. I don't know where Tetsuo is from, what gender Tetsuo might be, or how the fuck he/she/it even gets the nettwerk, but congrats all the same!!!
**I guess saying "woman, don't make me take off my belt" to my boss wasn't a good idea, in hindsight**

I went to the library last week to use the vertical files. At one of the desks in the large office where the copying machine is, there was a Chuckie (as in "The Bride of Chuckie") doll sitting at one of the computers positioned as if it were typing. I mentioned to one of the librarians that I found this slightly disturbing, to which she replied that what is even more disturbing is that whomever put the doll there is constantly commenting that it looks exactly like their grandchild. I guess if their grandchild looks like a menacing, freckled, red-headed murderer in overalls, then, yes, it does look like their grandchild.

Adults still have to go to work when it snows. :-(

My boss is very, very pregnant. I think she was due yesterday. I keep worrying that I'm going to get stuck alone in some room with her, without either of us able to leave, and she's going to start giving birth. All I'm gonna say is that there is no way anyone is getting me into an elevator in this building until that woman gives birth.

I get a lot of emails from someone who works in our department whose name is Naomi Hairychin. I think that this is the most unfortunate last name I have heard in a very long time.

My assistant said "I feel like I've been running around with my head up my ass all day." I did not disagree.

This morning I was going to make a list of things that I need to do in order to make myself healthier, more efficient and generally more organized, but I forgot.

Sometimes at work right when I'm in the middle of something, I blank out and just completely forget what I'm doing. When that happens I take the opportunity to sharpen my pencils and think about what I might want to eat for dinner.

A product for miss bicycle mirror:
http://www.thinkgeek.net/brain/bazaar/mart/cart.cgi?action=view&type=item&it

Virtually everything I did at work today was, in one way or another, illegal.

I attended a night meeting the other night. Despite the profusion of shrimp cocktail and stuffed mushrooms, I was so bored that I translated the entire meeting into French in my head as it was happening. When it was all over, I realized that I hadn't retained a single scrap of information.

I've spent all day playing Uno with my coworker's six-year-old daughter and looking for cool wallpaper on the Web. Lauren cheats at Uno and I can't figure out how to unzip the file for the wallpaper I picked.

The deli in our building recently shellacked some bagels, rolls, and other bakery items and hung them on the wall. This was not enough to entice me to actually eat a bagel this morning.

Its kinda a tradition here to bring in some kind of tasty treat for one's birthday....mine is tomorrow. I am debating whether I should bring in the traditional chocolate cake or expand my colleagues horizons by offering them brownies with a taste of the green plant cooked into the butter. I wonder if anyone would know?

I think I forgot to put deoderant on today again! I'm not sure because it's not even lunch time yet, and so the smell hasn't started, but my armpits feel suspiciously slimy under this polyester blouse.