Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Do you ever get the feeling construction workers are just improvising? Like if you pay attention to the machinery they "try out" on a certain roadspace, doesn't it seem like they're going "no this ones too big, this ones too small, Uh oh, we've got some water over here, lets bring in the hoses, Oh! um....cement. Can we get some guys with jackhammers in here, please? Wait, what's this? Oh, there's a LOT of mud in here! Let's get that really huge thing with the corkscrew to go in there and pull all the mud out! Oh we need to assemble the corkscrew? I guess we'll need a few electricians. Where's ConEd? Where's ConEd? HAS ANYBODY SEEN CONED? No? I guess they're not really "On it!" today."
Friday, April 21, 2006
Where the milk goes, Part Whatever
It is quite possible that some of you (Dave, Donna, Emily, and Taylor) might remember a post from over a year ago, when my boss dared to ask the question, "Where does the milk go?"
Since that time we have moved to the other side of the floor, where we found a new fridge filled with tons of fresh milk. The milk gets thrown out far before its expiration date and new milk gets replaced. My boss said "hey, can you do that same thing you did last year to get them to bring less milk?"
But this year is different. Because this year I have this cube neighbor whom we'll call Coppa. He overheard my boss and piped in, very loudly "YEAH, WHATS THE DEAL WITH ALL THAT MILK?" and he said "DO YOU WANT ME TO KEEP TABS ON IT AND LET YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON?"
Thus: The Milk Spreadsheet. Several weeks later, this is what Coppa came up with:
My favorite part is the "Swallow" column which means that only a swallow remains.
However, he has to re-do it because he didn't record the expiration dates, which is key.
Also, I told him I had expected pH levels.
Taylor has been trying to explain to his office-mates in Minnesota why we have a refrigerator full of milk. I swear its only for coffee. But I would love it if we were an office of mysteriously milk-obsessed, strong-boned, Children-of-the Corn types.
My office buddy Kerry suggested that next time Coppa goes in there to measure the milk, we follow him in there and start pouring big glasses of milk.
Luckily, Coppa is game for taking things too far, so I can expect a Powerpoint presentation soon. I hope it includes Cow .gifs!
Since that time we have moved to the other side of the floor, where we found a new fridge filled with tons of fresh milk. The milk gets thrown out far before its expiration date and new milk gets replaced. My boss said "hey, can you do that same thing you did last year to get them to bring less milk?"
But this year is different. Because this year I have this cube neighbor whom we'll call Coppa. He overheard my boss and piped in, very loudly "YEAH, WHATS THE DEAL WITH ALL THAT MILK?" and he said "DO YOU WANT ME TO KEEP TABS ON IT AND LET YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON?"
Thus: The Milk Spreadsheet. Several weeks later, this is what Coppa came up with:
My favorite part is the "Swallow" column which means that only a swallow remains.
However, he has to re-do it because he didn't record the expiration dates, which is key.
Also, I told him I had expected pH levels.
Taylor has been trying to explain to his office-mates in Minnesota why we have a refrigerator full of milk. I swear its only for coffee. But I would love it if we were an office of mysteriously milk-obsessed, strong-boned, Children-of-the Corn types.
My office buddy Kerry suggested that next time Coppa goes in there to measure the milk, we follow him in there and start pouring big glasses of milk.
Luckily, Coppa is game for taking things too far, so I can expect a Powerpoint presentation soon. I hope it includes Cow .gifs!
Big Time
I'm actually not a DMB fan.
Its just that if you look closely at this pic,
you can see my friend Abby in the background.
Gray shawl.
Also, she managed to give his suit a little feel.
Its purple corduroy in case thats not clear.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
NYC followed me here
I'm not trying to say that crazy shit doesn't happen in Mpls. But let me just tell this truthful tale. And you might catch my drift.
Last night at 4 a.m. I was woken by a drunk man running through the Longfellow Minneapolis neighborhood. His voice got louder and I realized he was approaching our house. He was screaming all kinds of things in Spanish. Just when I couldn't get more scared, he knocked on the door, shouting. Knocking and shouting. He moved on and we waited in the dark, as he screamed his way through the previously silent residential neighborhood.
About five minutes passed before we heard the neighbor calling the police.
"Uh yeah there's this Mexican guy running through the neighborhood ringing doorbells."
Nice.
Last night at 4 a.m. I was woken by a drunk man running through the Longfellow Minneapolis neighborhood. His voice got louder and I realized he was approaching our house. He was screaming all kinds of things in Spanish. Just when I couldn't get more scared, he knocked on the door, shouting. Knocking and shouting. He moved on and we waited in the dark, as he screamed his way through the previously silent residential neighborhood.
About five minutes passed before we heard the neighbor calling the police.
"Uh yeah there's this Mexican guy running through the neighborhood ringing doorbells."
Nice.
Monday, April 10, 2006
In Case of Emergency
I don’t like reading the ads on the subways. Especially the vacation ads. I’m sure it would be nice if my commute was along the shore in a golfcart, but its not ok? Those ads are just snarky and mean.
But today I noticed something even less satisfactory than the smell of Canal Street on a summer day. The MTA emergency instructions. Its four panels that show pictures of the 4 possible emergencies. (One of which is "police" by the way: "Help! There's about 50 police in here! With guns! Help!). The first instruction on every single one is "Do not pull the Emergency Brake." The second instruction is "Notify a train crew member." And the third is to follow the instructions of the train crew.
Okay. So in case of fire, medical, police or evacuation, NEVER pull the emergency brake. WHAT IS THE EMERGENCY BRAKE FOR? A fashion emergency? (Because I have seen PLENTY of those.)
The only thing we’re allowed to do, if we are sick, bleeding, held hostage, or in flames, is run (tripping, burning, and puking) through the train cars trying to FIND a train crew member. Even if the train crew members were moseying around the train offering us beverages and hot towels, this would still be a terrible plan. But instead the train crew is located in two cars: front, back and sometimes middle. If I’m on the train, bleeding and extinguishing burning children with my Poland Springs, I’m not going to know which direction the middle of the train is. And if I get there and find no train crew member, do I just keep going, dragging the burning corpses, to the front of the train?
Well, there MUST be some other way to notify a train crew member! A button, a cord? No. Just the EMERGENCY BRAKE. And you can’t use that. Its for emergencies.
Let’s say I find a train crew member who has not yet been taken hostage by the terrorists. What do I say? "The train is on fire!" Then are they just going to pull the emergency brake? Is it their expert eyes that will determine whether this is indeed an emergency? Is that why? Only they can say, after leaving an unconducted train hurling throught the tunnels, “Yes indeed, you guys are choking on anthrax. Ok, let’s pull the brake- No! No! Not YOU! You don’t have the magic touch! Allow me.”
Also, who designed an emergency brake that seemingly does more damage than the initial emergency? This brake shouldn’t even be offered to us, if its so dangerous.
Guess what I’m gonna do in case of an emergency? Pull that brake like my life depends on it. Because it does.
One More Thing
“Poetry in Motion” sucks. But the worst idea I have seen from Poetry in Motion is to put this poem above our heads as we cart to and from the office, reeling towards probable Death by Emergency Brake or Death by Police:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
~From Macbeth
But today I noticed something even less satisfactory than the smell of Canal Street on a summer day. The MTA emergency instructions. Its four panels that show pictures of the 4 possible emergencies. (One of which is "police" by the way: "Help! There's about 50 police in here! With guns! Help!). The first instruction on every single one is "Do not pull the Emergency Brake." The second instruction is "Notify a train crew member." And the third is to follow the instructions of the train crew.
Okay. So in case of fire, medical, police or evacuation, NEVER pull the emergency brake. WHAT IS THE EMERGENCY BRAKE FOR? A fashion emergency? (Because I have seen PLENTY of those.)
The only thing we’re allowed to do, if we are sick, bleeding, held hostage, or in flames, is run (tripping, burning, and puking) through the train cars trying to FIND a train crew member. Even if the train crew members were moseying around the train offering us beverages and hot towels, this would still be a terrible plan. But instead the train crew is located in two cars: front, back and sometimes middle. If I’m on the train, bleeding and extinguishing burning children with my Poland Springs, I’m not going to know which direction the middle of the train is. And if I get there and find no train crew member, do I just keep going, dragging the burning corpses, to the front of the train?
Well, there MUST be some other way to notify a train crew member! A button, a cord? No. Just the EMERGENCY BRAKE. And you can’t use that. Its for emergencies.
Let’s say I find a train crew member who has not yet been taken hostage by the terrorists. What do I say? "The train is on fire!" Then are they just going to pull the emergency brake? Is it their expert eyes that will determine whether this is indeed an emergency? Is that why? Only they can say, after leaving an unconducted train hurling throught the tunnels, “Yes indeed, you guys are choking on anthrax. Ok, let’s pull the brake- No! No! Not YOU! You don’t have the magic touch! Allow me.”
Also, who designed an emergency brake that seemingly does more damage than the initial emergency? This brake shouldn’t even be offered to us, if its so dangerous.
Guess what I’m gonna do in case of an emergency? Pull that brake like my life depends on it. Because it does.
One More Thing
“Poetry in Motion” sucks. But the worst idea I have seen from Poetry in Motion is to put this poem above our heads as we cart to and from the office, reeling towards probable Death by Emergency Brake or Death by Police:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
~From Macbeth
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Superheroes Are Real
A few weekends ago I was walking along in Park Slope Bklyn. “What a beautiful little neighborhood,” I thought to myself, admiring the coffee shops, children’s clothing stores, and taco stands. Suddenly a storefront caught my eye like no other storefront has. The following is a true story. (Spoiler prevention alert: If you’ve already heard of this, then you are more hip than me, but it was still the most magical day of my life.)
The store said “Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co.” I felt like Harry Potter. Could other people see this? Was my life finally going to really begin? All the other things were just a preparation for this, my initiation into the world of superheroes. It was real. I knew it wasn’t real, but what if it was real? I didn’t want to risk not being included in the superhero world, just because of cynicism or “common sense.” As I walked in, eyes agape, I was fully prepared to find either a big joke, or a portal to The Real Sooz: Life Part 2.
The store was filled with Costumes, Bottles of Chaos, Speed of Light, Invisibility. There was a cage to test levels of evil. This is just the tip of the iceberg. My thoughts were going: “Gag gifts- for kids- Do they work?-joke store- mean joke- What-if-its real?” I stared. There was a guy working there. I said “is this?—I didn’t know there was one of….these stores.” I didn’t want him to think I was too green. Like in case it was real, I wanted to make sure I didn’t appear too human. Like if I had to, I could be like “yes, I’ll need some new heavyduty gloves and Globcatcher, oh and by the way, when is the next meeting again?”
“Is this the only one of these?” I stammered.
“Like, in the world?” He was smiling.
“Yeah. In the world.”
And he said “kind of.” !!!!!!!!!!
After many more confusing questions, he finally opened up a little more. He said “Do you want to see what we really do here? This is sort of a front.”
Um….YES.
And he motions for me to follow him to the back of the store, where he OPENS A REVOLVING BOOKCASE. Inside the back room is like a kids reading room. There are shelves of books, maps, globes. It is essentially an after-school tutoring program. The revenues from the superhero supplies go to fund this nonprofit. And this way the kids feel special about going into the superhero store and going through the secret bookcase. It turns out there are more of these (A pirate store, a monster’s den) and they were started by Dave Eggers and the McSweeney’s people. Oh Eggers, why do you have to be so good? You are dreamy! These are those drunken ideas normal people have and then they go “yeah right, that’ll never happen” but he MAKES IT HAPPEN.
So Dave, Mr. Eggers, here’s my idea: GRAPHIC NOVEL MURAL IN A HOUSE. Its like telling a visual story on the walls of a house. Kids do the painting and planning. Then you charge a little money for admission to it (like a museum) and the proceeds go to kids arts scholarships.
SUPERHEROES? I haven't felt so happy in a really long time. But I have to admit I was a little bit disappointed that it wasn't real. I mean I know science doesn't permit.....but.....doesn't it? couldn't it? We've got to find a way.....
I bought some stuff. And took the oath to always use my powers for good.
The store said “Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co.” I felt like Harry Potter. Could other people see this? Was my life finally going to really begin? All the other things were just a preparation for this, my initiation into the world of superheroes. It was real. I knew it wasn’t real, but what if it was real? I didn’t want to risk not being included in the superhero world, just because of cynicism or “common sense.” As I walked in, eyes agape, I was fully prepared to find either a big joke, or a portal to The Real Sooz: Life Part 2.
The store was filled with Costumes, Bottles of Chaos, Speed of Light, Invisibility. There was a cage to test levels of evil. This is just the tip of the iceberg. My thoughts were going: “Gag gifts- for kids- Do they work?-joke store- mean joke- What-if-its real?” I stared. There was a guy working there. I said “is this?—I didn’t know there was one of….these stores.” I didn’t want him to think I was too green. Like in case it was real, I wanted to make sure I didn’t appear too human. Like if I had to, I could be like “yes, I’ll need some new heavyduty gloves and Globcatcher, oh and by the way, when is the next meeting again?”
“Is this the only one of these?” I stammered.
“Like, in the world?” He was smiling.
“Yeah. In the world.”
And he said “kind of.” !!!!!!!!!!
After many more confusing questions, he finally opened up a little more. He said “Do you want to see what we really do here? This is sort of a front.”
Um….YES.
And he motions for me to follow him to the back of the store, where he OPENS A REVOLVING BOOKCASE. Inside the back room is like a kids reading room. There are shelves of books, maps, globes. It is essentially an after-school tutoring program. The revenues from the superhero supplies go to fund this nonprofit. And this way the kids feel special about going into the superhero store and going through the secret bookcase. It turns out there are more of these (A pirate store, a monster’s den) and they were started by Dave Eggers and the McSweeney’s people. Oh Eggers, why do you have to be so good? You are dreamy! These are those drunken ideas normal people have and then they go “yeah right, that’ll never happen” but he MAKES IT HAPPEN.
So Dave, Mr. Eggers, here’s my idea: GRAPHIC NOVEL MURAL IN A HOUSE. Its like telling a visual story on the walls of a house. Kids do the painting and planning. Then you charge a little money for admission to it (like a museum) and the proceeds go to kids arts scholarships.
SUPERHEROES? I haven't felt so happy in a really long time. But I have to admit I was a little bit disappointed that it wasn't real. I mean I know science doesn't permit.....but.....doesn't it? couldn't it? We've got to find a way.....
I bought some stuff. And took the oath to always use my powers for good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)