01.31.2003 - 6:39 p.m.
My favorite task at Workplace
is writing the newsletter that I email out to a list of about
1800 subscribers. When I was hired, I was encouraged to make
it informal and wacky, so it is definitely both of those things.
Some random excerpts:
Oh, Labor Day weekend has
passed, and thus the summer slowly fizzles to an end and all
the engineers put away their white sweatpants for another year.
Hoo, boy. Nothing like
a random antiquated clothing etiquette reference to really kick
off a newsletter, don't you think?
You think writing these
is *easy*? No way. It takes hours of labor, vats of caffeine,
and a crystal clear mind filled with a single purpose: to web
surf as much as possible while pretending to work.
You know that shy sort
of awkward encounter you have with someone when you haven't talked
to them in quite a while? Yes, it's like that with you and I
right now, isn't it. The newsletter, it's been so long since
you've seen it, and you're not sure - are things...well, *different*?
Don't worry, nothing's
changed. We here at Marketing Weasel Enterprises strive to provide
you with quality hyperbole and corporate bias!
Oops. I mean, ha ha, "informative
and entertaining information about our products".
Yeahhh. That's it.
It's fun to write and I dig,
dig, DIG it when people write me back, telling me they get a
kick out of it. It's my Workplace version of a guestbook entry,
you know? The best thing ever, though, was when a lady came by
our booth at Macworld and asked if I was the newsletter girl.
I said yes, and she threw open her arms and yelled "Girl,
show me the LOVE!" and hugged the living shit out of me.
That was awesome.
I've been taking Dog to work
a lot lately. The weather's been fairly craptacular and when
I put her in the backyard and try and leave in the morning, she
moans and stares and gives me the most pathetic look on the planet
and I am consumed with guilt. So I pack her up and bring her
to the office where she lounges on a leather couch all day long.
Occasionally she demands and receives a biscuit. Most. Spoiled.
She's such a sweetie, though.
Seriously. You should meet my dog. Her ears are really soft and
velvety, and she does this thing where she puts a foot on your
lap (we call this The Foot Thing) and stares at you moistly,
then ducks her head and just leans the top of her head (The Head
Thing) against your leg. Awww.
If you met Cat, she would likely
try and crawl into your lap where she would curl up and purr
and you'd be initially charmed and then for no reason she would
bite you. She's bitchy like that.
Cat is especially bitchy, and
Dog especially friendly, first thing in the morning when I come
out of the bedroom. Cat is like, "Hey! Hey! HEEYYYYYYYY!!
Feed me! Feed me now! No, it's not good enough to just dump the
food in, asshole! Pet me while I'm eating! Yes! You must pet
me while I bolt my diet cat food and make disgusting chomping
sounds! Where are you going?? HEEEEY!"
Dog: "You're up! YOU'RE
UP! OMIGOD I can't BELIEVE it! Yaaaaaay! Oh! Oh! I need
to grab a TOY I'm so excited! I'm stuffing it in my mouth! MURF!
I can't believe I ever
complain about my job. I get to write stuff that I enjoy. I get
to bring my dog to the office. They feed me, for free. Today
I had a full body massage, a weekly indulgence provided by Workplace.
Earlier my coworkers and I watched the recorded copy of last
night's Scrubs and laughed ourselves silly. And right now, as
I type this - while clearly not doing any actual WORK - I'm sipping
a very tasty Cabernet that the chef poured me because he's using
it in tonight's dinner.
Someday, somewhere, I am probably
going be unemployed again and I will read this entry and remember
how easy I had it and I will reach up very carefully and slap
myself across the face.
I emailed my friend Feng today after seeing this website and its hilarious Marmaduke description:
comes KA-THUMPING into the living room at the sound of the dog
food commercial. MarmaKid urges everyone to move, and swiftly,
due to the amazingly large size of Marmaduke. Because he's a
really fucking big dog. Also, he's enormous. Gargantuan, you
might say, or even huge. A voluminous pooch. A capacious canine.
Great, as in Great Dane. Hefty. Whopping. Hulking. Etc.
If you repeat the above for
20 seconds each day, you will have achieved the effect of reading
any given Marmaduke panel. Ever."
I had to send that to Feng
because when we used to be coworkers, I remember him delivering
a similar rant. He wrote back:
"Ha! I did say something
like that once. Stupid Marmaduke. Although now I think that
the Marmaduke guy must be some kind of genius. How many years
has he made a living by drawing a one-panel comic about nothing
but the size of a dog? Pretty impressive.
Maybe I'll develop a strip
about the comic *smallness* of a dog. That's gotta be gold, right?"
Hee! I love it. The dog, constantly
falling into - I don't know, the heater vents or something.
go back :::
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004