Decoration

I have two things to put on the walls in my office now. They’re both quotes from Supernatural, printed for some reason that remains obscure to me on dictionary pages–one English, one a Portuguese English-to-Portuguese with way more pronunciation help than any English dictionary I’ve ever seen.

I put the one that says “Hey, Assbutt” in a spot where it’s not really visible, and I’ll take it down if I have to, but for now I’m very amused by Angry!Castiel glaring at me.  (The other one says “Please accept this sandwich as a sign of solidarity”, which probably shouldn’t amuse me as much as it does since I hated that whole plotline…) 

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Why Did No One Tell Me?

This morning on my way to work I saw no fewer than three women in going-to-work clothes who were wearing flipflops; I shared the elevator in my building with a fourth.  Now, I’ll grant that in three cases they were “fancy” flipflops, in that the straps were made of gilded or otherwise decorated leather, but they were flipflops nonetheless.

I get that it’s summer; I get that the owners of the fancier versions probably think of the shoes as “sandals”.  But they aren’t; they’re flipflops.  When did the rules change such that the shoes I spent every summer of my childhood in are considered adequate for office wear?

Or am I just getting old?

I’m Sorry, You Seem To Have Mistaken Me For Someone Who Cares

Email from someone in the office saying, “Hi, these people don’t know what to do to sign up for the meeting!  Fix it!”

Screw off.  I take the reservations and put ’em in a spreadsheet, dude, I don’t answer questions.  You people do not pay me enough to think.

What We Have Here

If I don’t know what the problem is–if I don’t know there is a problem–I cannot fix it.

You’d think this would be plenty fucking obvious, wouldn’t you?

Apparently not.

You’d Think They’d Notice

Has it somehow escaped the notice of all the sheet-sniffers of the world that shaming people into things just doesn’t work?

Because, seriously: if it were possible to shame people out of doing things like having sex or eating “too much”, it would have worked by now.  Shaming over sex, especially, has been going on since language, and people still do the things, they just feel slightly less good about them.

But maybe that’s the point.  Maybe the idea is that, if you can’t keep people from doing things, you can at least keep them from enjoying it quite as much?

Spam Spam Spammity Spam

Tell me–does this blog strike you as the kind of thing people are going to read if they’re interested in designer handbags? Because I just got spam for Louis Vuitton and Chanel knockoffs, and I am perplexed. Usually there’s at least a vague attempt to match up blog content with spam content (except for drug spam; that’s just everywhere).

Of course I don’t get the comment-spam thing anyway; does that ever work? Who’s reading a post on some subject that interests them, comes upon a link to something only vaugely related in the comments, and thinks, “Sure, I’ll go look at designer knockoffs!”?

The Extra Mile

Upon ordering a Coke to go with my lunch today I was told that the Coke spigot at that cash register was not working. There was another all of five feet away, mind you, but apparently it’s Not Done to use someone else’s drink dispenser. She didn’t even offer, didn’t seem to hear me when I asked if the other one was also broken.

Sometimes it’s just easier to roll your eyes and get a Dr Pepper.