Harry Potter gives me hives!

Actually, it's not Harry who does it, but the unwashed masses that turn out to the book release.

I rarely comment about my life outside of work, because it is very much more personally satisfying than my work life, and I don't need the catharsis of the written rant. But now I will tell you and after hours story that may curdle you blood, or make it boil, depending on what sort of person you are.

Now, this isn't a anti-Potter crusade, it's an anti-obsession thing. UPDATE: More of an anti-obsessing-over-everything thing

My dear little nephew is all of five-years-old, and loves Harry Potter. He is not a skilled enough reader to read the books, since lifting them might kill the poor fellow. What he has done is listened to the books on cd as he and his family travel hither and yon. He has been waiting and anticipating the last book for some time.

As you may have heard, book 7 came out at 12:00am Saturday morning. I happened to go with my sister to the chain store she had ordered the book from to pick it up. she was wait-listed on the audiobook. We arrived at 11:30pm Friday as were told, and were subsequently informed we would have to wait until the last book had been sold to pick up a copy of the cds. Or we could come in the next day and pick it up. We were #102 of 1000+, and still had a wait and then some, in close proximity that 1000++ people crammed into the store.

And such people. Not everyone was frightening, in fact it wasn't the costumes that were most unnerving. It was the people that were there because it was the obsession du jour. The girls that were squealing on their cells about 'a whole book all about Smallville, can you even believe it?' and the anime section was crammed full of crazy. How can you have that much obsessive energy?

We got out alive, but I'm not kidding, the whole thing left me with hives. If Dante were alive, he would ad this as a level to Purgatory, if not the Inferno.

Virtual Voodoo and Family

As I have said, my sister introduced me to the idea of virtual voodoo. She heard about it at work. It was a wonderful site. You could choose girl or boy, glasses, and all sorts of details for the doll. After defacing the doll digitally, there were several menacing messages that could be selected to accompany the image. It was always something like, 'you shouldn't have done that.' Fabulous. And then you would email it and it was completely anonymous. Plus, you could check back to see if it had been opened.

In the midst of our first flirtation with this program, my brother got engaged. If you knew my brother, you would know it seemed at the time that the girl would be extremely dubious. It turns out years later that she was really quite all right, very tolerable. But without ever having met her, we were convinced that this girl was no good. So we sent our future sister-in-law voodoo emails. Several, if I remember correctly. I don't think she ever read them. But even today, any voodoo reminds me of her.

APPP

We all have the days where there is a particular person that drives you to the edge of sanity and seems determined to give you a good hefty shove off. Today has been one of those days. Not only was the initial move of Earnesto's office-ly goods absolutely muffed, I have dealt with the unexpected evil of the questions that will not end and for which I have no good answer. and we have nearly 400 employees. You do the math.

I have received quite a bit of sympathy, but am still ill-tempered. What can I do to restore me to my usual state of placidity? My beloved sister had introduced me to virtual voodoo, but this lacks the physical elemental, the visceral bliss and causing someone in your immediate vicinity pain. (See, I would make a good Head of an International Crime Syndicate). And now that the email is not anonymous, it isn't quite as fun.

As my colleague pointed out, sometimes you need to smack something good and hard, when you can't smack that certain special someone. Forget Pillows. And Walls. I would like to introduce the very brilliant idea of Pinatas. As in, the newly formed Association for the Promotion and Propagation of Pinatas. Hit something, destroy it, and have it end in a pile of sweets. (unless you are one of those really suspect people who don't eat sweets)

the simple thought of a pinata is cheering me up. And if we combine another favorite activity, building and burning effigies, I could build the pinata in the form of the given antagonist, and then beat it, finally ending by burning the remainder after the candy spills out.

Now that is Catharsis.

Team Positivity Strikes Again

More Later, I think I have to go to sleep so I can go to work to waste time tomorrow, but thought I would give an update.

UPDATE:
Last night I decided that I would retry Team Positivity, which is not an organized team in a uni and matching socks sort of manner, but more a group of individuals that believe in things such as personal mantras like "Something wonderful is going to happen today." Notice it isn't, "Today is going to be wonderful." That's just too much to believe every day, even for Team Positivity.

I have tried T.P. before, and usually it is short lived. The sarcasm gene is alive and present in me, I'm, afraid, and I can be critical. (Warning: that last sentence was a gross understatement) But in the past I have always been forced to turn in my metaphorical jersey in when I succumb to sneering at optimism.

But yesterday they decided on the final course of office moves, and my office is being cut by 1/3. And I'm okay with that. Not that I am not having occasional panic attacks about how to fit things and arrange Earnesto's office, but I can handle it. Thanks to my new subscription to Positivity Today.

I can make a list of things that are positive about the move. Let me share:

• It means that Rusty no longer will know where my desk is , curtailing his obnoxious tendency to needlessly walk by repeatedly. In essence; I won't be stalked so much.
  
• Earnesto's office will no longer have a large window onto the main hallway, cutting down on people making faces at him while he is on conference calls. It will also eliminate the possibility of this one guy Flashing Earnesto again. ( He was trying to get his attention)
• I won't be in charge of answering the front door anymore. Meaning I'll have a lot more time to waste uninterrupted.
• I may get a new desk, since my current one (I hate it) is too big for the space I'm going into.
• I will be by a working printer
• I'm leaving in two months.

So the last point isn't a benefit of the move, but it is what has me reconciled to the chaos. And also back on the team.

Top Hats off to you

I was in the train under the maze area by West Oakland Station when I swear I saw a top hat drifting along, falling from one of the overpasses. It was all the sudden like I was in some sort of Mary Poppins-esque film and I expected Dick van Dyck to pop out and start singing. Luckily, I would have been protected by my trusty ipod.

Activating my Sleeper Cells

I was browsing though job postings at work and realized, my time has come to set into action all my plans made carefully in years past. It is time to activate my sleeper cells. It is also time to start looking for cheap farm houses in the English countryside, an old red bicycle, and the ultimate librarian cardigan. More on this later. Now I have to watch summer league basketball, to see what sort of players the Spurs have.

When Things are officially strange

With Earnesto out for the rest of the week, I was at liberty to waste time with the maximum efficiency today. I did so well I didn't have time to write at work. But prior to playing games, taking quizzes, and leaving a word for Henry, I took the time to review my resumé and update it. I felt pretty satisfied with my changes. But when I in passing mentioned my actions to my supervisor Marie, she had some strong feelings. As in editorial changes to improve my chances in getting hired somewhere away from this crazy-house.

And that's jut it. You know things are odd when your supervisor is editing your c.v. You know things are strange when she encourages you to go on vacation and work from home. You know things are off when you spend 30 minutes discussing humus.

But on the upside, I think my resumé is rocking. And I have time to play Yahtzee.

He's leaving

Just as I start really enjoying the forbidden flirtation between myself and Henry, I find out he's quitting. In August, on the 16th. Never mind that I am leaving soon thereafter. It is gut-wrenching to find out this (ps, you can't tell anyone, this isn't for public consumption. Tippy-top secret. That's why it's on my blog).

pps - How come the boy I like is leaving and the one I want to burst into flames is bumping into me 2-3 times a day? What kind of sick joke is that?

Who let him in the building?

Some one is going to suffer from letting Rusty in the building. When I find them, it's going to be the level of the Inferno for those who committed simony, because upside-down baptism in fire is what they richly deserve.

This Charming Man, or is it Charmless Man

As stated before, I am not a big believer in Boyish Charm. Boyish Charm is capitalized because I am quite sure somewhere out there there is a name brand can producted that most men who employ Boyish Charm use. Like Velveeta.

Boyish Charm is alright when it is used sparingly. Like a flash of a boyish smile to punctuate a particular flirtation. In this case, it is all the better because of the rarity of use. I am strongly against the carpet bombing technique of Boyish Charm, when it's the one and only modus operandi. Then it assumes a cloying nature and makes me want to beat the man.

For example, knew this guy once who was such a charmer. It was nice at first, but then, it wasd irritating. You could never get a stright answer from him, it was always something carefullly calculated to be chart-toppingly charming, almost to the point of nonsensicalness. I swear, if I had asked him to watch my pet guinea pig (mythical, by the way, I have no pets), he probably would have said "Anything for you, darling heart. I will cherish this time with the creature as if it was time spent with you, and plan our future together" If you can't tell via the written word if this is sarcastic, then good, you can't tell when he said it either.

Actually, Boyish Charm is a label I think I am using to describe all excessive charm, including Roguish Charm, Winning Charm, etc. I label it Boyish Charm because it is mainly employed by males. Sweeping Generalization? Yes. But behind the bias lives the truth. Woman rely on wiafishness and other forms of faux-naivete. Men use charm.

So think, next time someone is trying to charm your socks off. Charm or substance? Please only give them your socks if the charm has a little more behind it than nice eyelashes and a rakish smile.

Just because I'm emotional, doesn't mean I wrong

Have you ever been really upset about something? Felt really passionatly about an issue? Had your opinion dismissed completely out of hand because if you actially care, you can't be righ? Or can you?

Earnesto once told me that when I vent about a person or issue, he is unable to really consider my opinions on the matter as valid because "they're just so emotional." Newsflash: Emotional doesn't mean wrong. It just means emotional. It doesn't mean right either.

So I watch him ignore Marie (my real boss) and her actually really valid opinions because she is upset about the issue. Who wouldn't be upset when someone totally usurps their power and treats them like trash? But hey, however ticked off she is, it doesn't mean that she isn't aware of all the issues that go into moving office space and etc. It's in her pervue.

Go away for the weekend, and look what happens!

Someone stole it! The label maker, I mean. What horrible person would abscond with the item that brings me and others so much joy? I mean, it's cruel and unusual to deprive people of the happiness brought on by the words we hide. And If you think I'm taking it badly, you should see how Henry's doing. Not good. Not good at all. We may have to call in a professional.

And in other news, my commuting pal, Eitan has left his job, and I will never see his smiling sleepy face again in the morning. Unlike many others mentioned in this blog, Eitan is his real name, and he's a very nice fellow I have known for a year, although I have only ever spoken to him in the last 4 months or so, since we had a brief foray into carpooling. He is a really great guy, very funny, very low-key and mellow. I will miss him in a vague way. Best wishes to you Eitan, along with your girlfriend, in your new place and job. May you find that committed carpool you have been looking for.

Update: Take down the police tape, Lassie came home
I should know better than to listen to Henry, I guess, because no one stole the label maker. They were actually labeling things. I went to check on it and it had been returned, but had no word. I put in an appropriate word, to avoid further trauma for Henry. Poor kid.