The @-Work Nettwerk
Mundane Tasks and Capitalist Pig-Dog Commands
A Bootylicious Threat to Good
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
Make dem bitches buy you boooooooooze tell dem bitches what to
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."
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
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
I chugged a screwdriver during the lunch break at our monthly coalition
meeting. Then I giggled.
Even Puff Daddy Can't Shoot Down
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
A product for miss bicycle mirror:
Virtually everything I did at work today was, in one way or another,
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
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.
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Nettwerk : Cubicle85@hotmail.com
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