shiny new and technological

What's more exciting: Tim Duncan being officially and correctly listed on the NBA All-Star Ballot, or the fact I actually figured out how to include the link to voting (widgit, whatever) in my blog.? I sure am not-knowing-what-I am-doing really well. So if you care, please vote, and make sure you vote for Tim Duncan.

plotting a karaoke ambush

In my position at this institution, I have been in the position to plan many a going-away "parties." That is put in quotes because sometimes it is a party, sometimes a funeral, sometimes just a going through the motions, and sometimes, like with good-old Battleaxe, it was a chance to kick 'em while they're down/dance on grave. Next up is Marie's farewell: Beer and oysters on the beach. I applaud her simple vision, but can't help but think of the irony that she wants to feed a bunch of people oysters after an oil spill. Neither of the above items really appeals to me, yet I have to plan. It's proving to be a bit sticky, but I will contrive.

But it begs the question: Who will plan my party? Marie will be gone. Earnesto doesn't do details. That is the extent of my lauded department. Conclusion, I will plan my party.

This simultaneously sucks and has it's benefits. Foremost amongst the benefits is that I will allow myself to do whatever is in my imagination. I was talking to the head of HR about it, and she said it sounded pretty awesome. Complete Carte Blanche.

So when I come up with a devilishly good idea(with my creative engines) (and I have) like making it a karaoke party, and asking Earnesto to sing a song for my final request, I will not shoot my idea down. I will say instead, "Self, that sounds like a capital idea, and well within the budget I have established for this party." And Then I will say "Self, thanks for understanding what I am trying to envision." Fabulous. Finally, I get to plot my karaoke ambush.

As for songs that I will ask for Earnesto to sing, I will take written submissions. Although I would love to have it be something like "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Or something by Debbie Harry or Madonna. Or Barry Manilow. There are just so many ways to be cruel on this one.

not with a bang

Ignore the title of this blog. Every once in a while, I get the urge to quote, and in the absence of having something to truly say relevant to the topic, I will misappropriate and write about other things. Like my weekend.

So, this weekend, my friend and I went to SFMOMA to take advantage of a neat trick I have of getting in free. Unfortunately, this Saturday it was not such a great trick, since, thanks to Oracle, it was a "Free4All" day. So, we spent the day rubbing elbows+ with the outpouring of the cheap and cultured (and that includes me). Still, it was cool to see the art again, and be with a friend. We didn't get to see the special Olafur Eliasson Exhibit, because we are not crazy enough to wait an hour to go up to the 4th floor. I've seen it before, and it's pretty awesome, but not 1 hour of standing in line awesome. To make up for it, we went to the much-acclaimed gift shop of SFMOMA. I admit to being a skeptic of the claims of its amazingness, but, indeed, it did rock my world. Not enough for me to pay insane prices and wait in yet another line of death (Note, lines do seem to be a problem at SFMOMA, we didn't see the BMW art-car either because of the lines).

Then we meandered to MOAD, or the Museum of the African Diaspora. I know what prompted the question, but it opened with the line "When did you find out that you were African?" Fine, whatever, except I am pretty much Wonder-bread white, and so it amuses me when they try to make sweeping statements like this. I know, they are saying all human life came from Africa. I get it. And African Culture permeates everything. But still, I smiled. Also, let me add that though a delightful space, MOAD is not equipped to fit the number of people packt like sardines in a crushd tin box.

Finally, we ended it by wandering through the rainy-day streets and shopping. Okay, I spent all the money. But I bought my favorite game, Ticket to Ride, and some music. Then I went home and played the game online for hours with my sisters. Happiness through Technology, people.

Another thing of note of Saturday was the USCv.UCB football game. I used to follow college football with the same fervor you now see exerted towards the NBA, but I was quickly cured of that by going to a college football game. I now find it slightly baffling that as many people from USC should be descending upon Berkeley like a hoard of locusts. Don't you have other responsibilities? They were everywhere. In the museums, in the stores, on BART, walking noisily by my house after they won the game. I tell you, it didn't help endear them to me.

Now I will work, until 3, when I will be playing trains again online with my sisters.

Welcome to the Twilight Zone

Things have been a little strange around here lately. I have fleetingly been experiencing something that the astute reader might realize is highly unlikely, job satisfaction. So unprecedented is this state that it has momentarily and profoundly shaken my patterns of usual behaviour. But more on that Later, let's just examine why it is so marvelous that I might actually want to go to work this week.

Why it is Crazy

a) I have actually been working on Project Negative Value. It isn't something that usually brings me great levels of joy on a usual basis. Actually, usually discussion of this project makes me want to Sylvia Plath myself (stick my head in the oven, not read The Bell Jar). It still sort of does. But this time I was doing work that I secretly hope will help derail the futility.

b) I have had to go to MEETINGS OF DOOM where there was lots of yelling and pointed questions and when we weren't meeting, we were prepping materials for the next meeting, which would commence as soon as the latest edit was done.

c) I had no time to do a Pirate quiz or virtual yahtzee. Having to work at work usually sucks.

Why I enjoyed it

a) I was able to do analysis. Marie is probably going to catch it from letting me take a break from my regular scheduling duties (from which I was already on enforced hiatus because there are only so many hours you can schedule). But she asked me to do what I have been university trained to do: analyze. And it involved research. My toes are curling at the very thought.

b) I was treated as an expert. I was all of the sudden a trusted source of information, someone who had answers, or if I didn't have them right then, I could get them. My initiatives were treated as insight the would have otherwise been unable to obtain. It doesn't matter that I am not an expert and anyone with half a brain and internet access could have collected the same information, and anyone with a working knowledge of, and a working calculator could have done it.

c) I was praised. Relying on someone and thanking them are two different things entirely, which is something I do not think that Earnesto has yet learned.

d) A little more indicative of my character flaws, I really enjoyed being part of something that throws a spanner into Earnesto's pie-in-the-sky dreaming. As my roommate has frequently said, I really f@#$% his s#$% up.

More on this later

A Moment I've been waiting for

The NBA Schedule was released today!!! For those of you who know me, you know this is exciting beyond belief. It also means that I can buy tickets to when the Warriors play the Spurs. I miss my boys so. Will I be able to breathe before the day I buy those tickets to heaven? That I cannot say.

Let's hear it for a repeat!!!



UPDATE:

A Moment of genius insanity had me buy courtside seats to one of the games on Friday. My life is so good. My bank balance, not so good.

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.

call it a day: why you leave the bar early

For Drinkers and Nondrinkers alike

Are you ready for part II of the Battleaxe farewell tour? No? Because last night was the external party, when every one who has ever worked for her (and it's a lot, can someone say high turn-over?) showed up to drink to her downfall and murmur to each other how well deserved it was. I was went part out of pity and part as an envoy from the Executive Offices. Which is to say, Earnesto couldn't go, so he sent me. Unfortunately, he wasn't bankrolling the venture.

I don't drink. So happy hour isn't my favorite hangout. I just feel redundant as I sip my coke with grenadine and wish I was somewhere else. For example, last night, in the super-posh Fairmont Hotel Tonga Room, I wished I was at home watching the NBA Draft.

(Sidebar: Draft! I love it, except I really wanted San Antonio to take Jarod Dudley from Boston College, but stupid Michael Jordan picked him. Still, some good trading going on, and as a Portland native, I appreciate efforts to retool the team to bring in some quality. End of Aside)

No, I was in a dark and murky bar that I had heard good things about. I guess it shows that everyone who goes there usually is drunk, because sobriety does not make it a fun place. It makes it dark and kitschy and in this case, full of people I didn't really like before, and drunkenness did not add to their charm. Like a guy who used to have my position and filled the computer with porn and demeaning emails about his then girlfriend, one of my coworkers, that I was forced to clean out. Ohhhh, he's a favorite. Favorite person to build a voodoo doll of, that is.

After drinking my coke, and eating some pretty decent Swiss cheese, it was an hour in and it was getting crowded. I opted out, leaving $25 to cover my tab and get one of Battleaxe's. It was a gesture. I left at 6:30, and after a nice walk and train ride, got home in order to catch the end of the first round of the draft. and I only saw one or two of my coworkers fall-down drunk (fast workers).

I just talked to someone there at the end of the night, and it was a great reminder of the evils of an open tab. Apparently they were $120 short at the end of the night. Not my fault. But it sure made me glad I wasn't there at the end to pick up that tab. A good reason to leave early. Which makes the list this:

1. Even if you like a person sober, drunk may be a different story. Avoid being there when the things get so out of hand that someone tears open Hugh's shirt and that way you can maintain good working relationships as well as your eyesight.
   
2. You don't have to pay for all the cheap people who came for the "free" drinks. Just pay what you own (with tax and tip figured in) and walk away, knowing some other chump can deal with the mess.
3. You can still walk in the city without undue fear, and use mass transit without a taser.
   
4. The evening isn't wasted, and neither are you. Go home and do something cool.
5. You cultivate an air of mystery. People wonder where you went. You don't have to tell them you played computer Yahtzee for hours.
   

And the greatest lesson of all is: Never start an open tab.