Category: Daily Grind

Hoo boy, am I buzzed!

There was a power failure in the office this morning (no, I wasn’t here, because I am always a full hour late for work). It was described to me thus: off, then on, off, on, then off, then finally on for good. So all the PC’s, terminals, printers and servers were scrambled.

It is not my job to fix this stuff, but the people whose job it is don’t know how, so I have been called all over the building all morning by folks who can’t get their work done because, hey, their computer doesn’t work. To work around the fact that I can’t get MY work done while I’m fixing their stuff, they bribe me. With coffee. “Siddown! How you doin’? Have a cup of Starbucks. Hey, will you take a look at this…” So I have had like eight cups of strong joe today, and I haven’t done one thing in my job description.

My last stop was in The Big Guy’s office, and as I was wrapping things up there, who shows up but the NEW Regional IT Director, just going around to all the branches and introducing himself. What happened to the OLD Regional IT Director? That useless, know-nothing, do-nothing, sack of rhinoceros dung, whose father is a corporate executive? He has been promoted to NATIONAL IT Director. So he will be driving a Lexus and living in a penthouse, and I will be fixing all the computers.

At least I get all the coffee I can drink.

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So, for the most part, it looks like my literary exploration into the psyche of the Modern Woman was not a big hit. I am chastened. I will stop.

Tomorrow (January 19) on NPR’s Day to Day magazine show:
“The Perils of Personal Blogging,” The tease has a quote from someone who got fired from his job because of his blog. Check your local listings. We all get National Public Radio, don’t we?
I wish I could get fired. Then I could write more. Did I say that out loud?

The comments section of the previous post sets a new record for revision99.

I’m sending out love to everybody who is reading it and to all who joined in. I will revisit the topic of pigs and pussies again soon (maybe today), and in the mean time the comments section there remains open.

Readers of those comments will be heaving a huge sigh of relief for me, for themselves, and for the world, as I was almost talked into posting naked pictures of myself. Fortunately, it was revealed to me at the last second that someone was having me on, and a crisis was averted.

I started this thing before the U.S. presidential election of 2004, because I had to say a few things about politics, a subject I am interested in. But I don’t have time to do the research to back up my opinions, what with trying to earn a living and all. Today I heard a columnist with the Chicago Sun-Times on the radio saying he worked as a street reporter for twenty years before he had earned the privilege of stating his opinion in print. And that’s the way it should be. There are too many political pundits today who have never been anything but pundits. They are not seasoned in news gathering and they don’t know what has gone before, so there is not enough depth to their writing. Some of them are good writers, but I think I am coming down on the side of “Make them work for it.” As a corollary, I had to get out of the pundit business, and fast.

I still believe what I believe, politically speaking, and of course I’m absolutely certain I’m right. I mean correct. But putting it down here without being prepared for instant attacks and rebuttals from, like, EVERYONE IN THE WORLD, is just blogger suicide. Blogicide. I’d get killed, and then I’d whine, start to cry, become morose and alienated, and, well, we all know how easy it would be for me to get automatic weapons. Nuff said.

So I backed off politics and fumbled around for a few weeks, typing a few things here and there, but mostly becoming obsessed with reading the blogs of others, a pastime that continues to derail all my efforts to be productive in any way. So anyway I’m drifting away from politics and just sort of raving about nothing, trying to be nice so other bloggers will like me, and I am dumbfounded when I come upon a request, nay, a demand, for naked pictures. Go look at the previous comments section if you don’t believe me.

Up to this point the commenters are keeping it real and the commentary is pretty gown-up, considering the subject. I try to counter with a grown-up appeal to enlightenment and intellectual questing, but this commenter, it seems, won’t take no for an answer. Desperate, I start to think how I can satisfy this bizarre demand, as I always aim to please. I don’t have any naked pictures of myself. But I do have a tripod and a camera.

I’m trying to remember how the guys posed in that copy of Playgirl I saw, but I keep thinking of the line the Playgirl art director used when she was interviewed in Rolling Stone. Trying to describe the perfect photo, uh, package, as it were (stimulating yet legal), she said she was looking for “maximum tumescence in repose.” My heart starts to palpitate as I picture my tumescence maximized, but in repose. The picture is not a pretty one. But I think “This reader is challenging me. I am going to call her bluff.”

So I gave in, and I put it in writing — keep watching, and I’ll give you some skin. But as I said above, somebody chickened out, and it wasn’t me. Now she’s trying to act like it was all a joke, but I didn’t see any smilies or anything. On the other hand, thank God she let me in on the joke, before I embarrassed myself and icked everybody out.

OK I apologize for the previous post.

I didn’t watch every fucking second of the Today Show this morning, because at some point I had to take a shower (etc.) and get dressed, but at no time did I see anything about the guy they pulled out of the Los Angeles River the other day. Everything seemed to be preempted by the Brad and Jennifer breakup. There were at least three segments, maybe more, devoted to this. What’s the deal? He’s prettier than she is, but he can’t act. Oh, wait: Her name is Jennifer, so she’s probably been drafted to be Affleck’s next squeeze. Good luck to all three of them.

Every time it rains in Los Angeles, someone falls in the flood channel.

As noted here, there is no good reason for this, except that it makes for an excellent couple of hours of reality TV, as a million firemen try to save the clown while the video cameras roll. Anyone who wants to see this spectacle, please tune in to The Today Show on Tuesday, January 11 (NBC). Our local NBC affiliate has been teasing the fact that one of the numbskulls who fell in and got rescued is going to be interviewed, hopefully by America’s cutie pie Katie Couric. They have some great footage of the rescue. This will be good television, people.

Here’s a picture of my commute this morning.

Raining in L.A. Who knew? You are looking at the 405, known in some quarters as The San Diego Freeway, although this picture was taken more than a hundred miles from San Diego, and going away.

Brake lights. Tailgaters. Lane-changers. People in big fucking hurries. Every couple of minutes a full-on, gut-wrenching, heart-in-the-throat near-disaster. Some asshole steering with his knees, shooting pictures with a digital camera while trying to drive.

I got the camera out too late to shoot the cause of the big traffic jam I ran into: One or more bozos driving as if it weren’t raining, spinning out, blocking lanes for a half-hour while the rest of us fumed and crept along. Of course, given a chance, the rest of us would have screwed it up ourselves, because it never rains in Los Angeles, so we don’t know how to drive in the rain. Top that off with an oil slick that has been forming on the roads for five years (since the last wet winter) and you’ve got a recipe for Happy Fun on the 405.

Jesus Christ some of the people on my street have lit their houses like casinos!

I feel like dropping in on some of my neighbors to shoot some craps or play a little Blackjack. Viva Las Vegas! Is this what Christmas is all about? Is this nationwide? Here in Southern California, people seem to be trying to simulate foul weather using billions of tiny clear lightbulbs, placed on their homes in such a way as to suggest icicles, dripping from the rain gutters, surrounding the window frames, hanging from the trees in their front yards. Reminiscing, I guess, about the good old days in Los Angeles, when it snowed.

Then there are the figures in the yard, Santa and his reindeer driving right over to the stable where Mary and Joseph gaze at their new baby, a twelve-foot lighted inflatable snowman on the roof, grazing animals (sheep and deer) made of wire frames covered in those same icicle lights, some of them actually moving. Life imitates Disneyland. Do people do this all around the country, or is it just a west coast aberration?

Geez, what a week.

It’s over now, but in the past five days The Corporation really got its money’s worth. I did the work of three men, and I was sick the whole time. I normally don’t want to be there, but this week I really should have been home in bed. Trouble is, the work won’t go away just because I do, and no one else will do it while I’m gone. Sick. So whenever I come back it’s all still waiting for me, along with the new work, which is always urgent. I will have to die or get fired to evade this.

As an added bonus, my cold/flu or whatever prevented me from sleeping more than three hours a night all week, so I started each day in the hole and got deeper in as the day progressed. Friday night I finally passed out and slept all night, and now today (Saturday) I feel human for the first time since last Sunday.

I’m alone in the house (just me and Molly the Cat), alternately surfing movies on the cable, finishing B’s leftover chicken soup, reading random blogs and following their links to other random blogs (thank God for Firefox and tabbed browsing). I read somewhere that there are 4.8 million blogs, but that was a month ago. There must be a lot more by now, and I am amazed at how many smart, funny, drunk, isolated, depressed, introspective, social, clever, educated, frank and opinionated people there are out there doing this. Who wants to bet that university studies are not being conducted on the phenomenon right now? Stay tuned to Fresh Air on NPR — I’m sure someone will be plugging a blogging book soon, if they haven’t already.

Of course I will get nothing accomplished on this day of rest. Usually that would make me feel guilty, but since I am recovering from a near-death experience I am OK with my indolence. Tomorrow I’ll have to make up for today. Then on Monday I can go back to making The Corporation rich.

Are You Drained by Christmas Shopping?

It’s the Holiday Season! This time of year, people often say to me Larry Jones, I need a break from the hurly burly world of gift shopping, nog-drinking and carol-singing. Do you know where the toilet museums are?

Well, joyeux noel, yes, I do! You can learn perhaps more than you expected at the Sulabh International Museum of Toilets. Visit the online collection and your happy curator Dr. Bindeshwar Pathak will smile at you from every page. For detailed information regarding ancient defecation and urination rituals, check out this section.

If that’s not enough for you (and it wasn’t for me), you can check out The Toilet Museum, for more toilets and peripherals, including toilet sounds and a section of frequently asked questions about toilets, which will challenge what you may think you know. While at The Toilet Museum (and in the holiday spirit), don’t miss the Gift Shop. For you last-minute shoppers, monogrammed toilet paper makes a great stocking stuffer…

The education continues as we move on to the great state of Texas, home to Barney Smith’s Toilet Seat Art Museum. I was particularly impressed by Barney’s feathered creation with the Native American motif on Page 2. This site truly gives new meaning to the phrase “expose yourself to art.”

OK — back to the mall, all of you! Email me directly for my sizes and wish list.