The @-Work Nettwerk
Mundane Tasks and Capitalist Pig-Dog Commands

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Volume Twenty Five:
Nancy Reagan Did Not Submit an Entry This Week

Okay, okay...although they were so brazen in demanding the award, I present this week's Golden Cubicle Award to Elizabeth Botten, of Silver Spring, Maryland:
**Annie Lou and I deserve the Golden Cubicle for investigative reporting because we CAUGHT THE BATHROOM LADY IN THE ACT!!!! The feet crept into AL's stall so we made our brave co-worker Wendy open the stall door which was slightly ajar. She saw the BR Lady slumped over asleep, her arms resting on the sanitary napkin dispenser, her bare ass sitting on the pot. The BR Lady immediately slammed the stall door and locked it. Wendy didn't get a good look at her face so we were forced to stand outside the pretended to wait for the elevator. People started watching us because we had been standing there for so long. Right as another co-worker was showing us her M&M lunchbag cooler, the BR Lady came out and shot us a NASTY look.**

If unnecessarily circumventing the entire building in the sub-zero temperatures and face-gnawing winds just to avoid smiling and saying hello to the security-guard each morning makes me a misanthropist, than so be it.

On the way home from work yesterday, the bus smelled vaguely of urine.

Yesterday I got fired from work- "threatened with forced resignment" is what they call it, because they found out I smoked pot in college. Apparently, I am a threat to national security, because foreign countries might blackmail me into giving them top-secret information, all because I smoked pot in college. I fail to see the reasoning behind this, especially since I don't know any top secrets and spend all day surfing the web. They told me I could either quit then and cite my own reasons for leaving, or be forced to quit (which looks really bad) in a few weeks, so I chose to put in my 2 weeks notice then. I am planning on going to a rave the night before my last day of work, so I will probably go in the last day of work rolling. That will be fun..

Today we got in a snowball fight with some trees. Strangely, the trees won. . .

We also brought a pocket-sized snowman into the Research Room, but he fell apart on the floor.

We have a very shallow toilet at work, and in the process of wiping this morning, I accidentally brushed my hand through my own fecal matter, flinging a piece of it onto the bathroom wall as my arm re-emerged from the wiping chamber. When I went back into the office, I realized as my boss was talking to me that I still had a piece of shit on my wrist, so I discretely wiped it under his desk. Later in the day, my other co-worker said, "I was just in the other room, and it smells like shit in there."

On Friday a male coworker suggested that we ought to "get together." On Monday he gave me a document to type containing the sentence "Pubic access is unobstructed." I feel like I am definitely being given the green light here...

Last night I dreamt that my assistant looked at me and said, dramatically, "You're not the boss of me," and I said "No, actually, I am," and then I made him say "Time to make the donuts" over and over again.

I took the Math GED test today since the hoodies didn't come to class. I scored 53 (passing is 45) or 95%. I missed three questions. I am humbled.

http://www.lfw.org/jminc

Today, when we were breaking into the Hirshorn Sculpture garden, and my co-worker loudly announced that we couldn't get in trouble because we are Smithsonian employees, the guard came out of his little box and assured that just the opposite is true.

I spent half an hour accessing work-relevant links when I realized that the new and improved AOL 5.0 tool bar showed the last 20 sites I had surfed, 19 of which were porn. The 20th, incidentally, was the @-work nettwerk webpage.

So my job keeps on buying themselves more time with me as an employee with new toys for my office. First, I got a new computer. This was nice, but a necessity as my old one went into self-destruction mode. Then they got me this new desk. This was not as necessary, and a very nice thing for them to do. But today, oh today. Today they got me a new chair. It is so soft, comfortable and supportive. It makes work so much nicer. The only thing that worries me is what could be next. The only thing that could be better than this chair is on-the-job-sex. Hell, I'd even take a pay cut for that, but not a big one. I may just have to be content with this chair and some privacy.

Today after I told my boss that as a small child I used to drink my dirty paint water and pretend that it was coffee she walked away laughing, and I could hear her laughing all the way down the hall.

One of my co-workers just told me that she had fallen asleep at her desk today. I bet she was in her office with her door closed so it looked like she was working. Man, I wish I had an office with a door that closed.

"The brain is a beautiful thing. It wakes up with you in the morning and goes to sleep as soon as you go to work." -Robert Frost

Note from the ubermensch: I wouldn't usually include something like the next message, but it just seemed so sad and needy and she went to all that trouble...

all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.
all data entry and no brain work make kira a sleepy girl.

Note from the ubermensch: The ubermensch just realized that the above entry could have been done by just using the edit-copy-paste function, as opposed to actually typing it all out. The ubermench thinks its time to raid the architects liquor cabinet and fridge and make himself a screwdriver.

Volume Twenty Six:
Starring Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner. Music by REM.

Today's Golden Cubicle Award goes to Ms. Elizabeth Anne Rose, of Seattle:
**There were three people at the bus stop on my way home from work - a rather large man and an elderly man, and me. The large man (who is probably in the top 10% of the largest people I have ever seen) got on the bus first. The elderly man insisted that I go in front of him and I thought he was being nice - until I stepped onto the bus, for there, six inches from my face was the large man's ass hanging out of his pants. He had to be at least two and a half feet wide and there was about 7 inches of crack showing. It was probably the most unsolicited amount of ass I have ever seen in my entire life. (I am currently trying to calculate approximately how many cubic feet of ass were there)**

Elizabeth ALSO wins the award for most appropriate subject heading, written to accompany the above entry: How many cubic feet of ass on the ass man?

My high pressure activist job was scarred today by my striking realization that I don't really like any of the people I'm trying to help.

At least when you are annoyed at a customer while working in food service, you can secretly spit or masturbate (depending on your level of creativity) into their hamburger. Unfortunately, its more obvious when done on client progress reports.

I just spent the first hour and fifteen minutes of work scraping the crud off of the nose rests on my glasses with a bent paperclip and saying "Uh-huh" to my co-worker at appropriate moments.

My bus driver was doing the crossword puzzle while driving today. Needless to say, we almost got in an accident.

This morning i was working on a project located in ham lake, and i thought "who the hell named *that* city?" then i had visions of children frolicking on the beach and swimming out to the raft through waves of salty, pink, deli-sliced ham.

I was offered a job with responsibilities including Coordination of Leonardo DiCaprio's April visit to the Nation's Capitol, including providing entertainment for Mr. DiCaprio. Although countless references would testify to my ability to complete those objectives, I declined the position.

In the last wash, two of my bras got destroyed. One of them lost the underwire and the other one has pieces of metal sticking out the bottom. Since I earn so little and I obviously need new bras, I have decided to begin pan handling. I'm trying out pan-handle lines. Tell me what you think:
"Hi, I'm in AmeriCorps. Spare some change for a new bra?"
"Do you have some extra bras I could bum off you? If you give me your address, I'll send them back. I promise."

At lunch I was surfing whilst eating an orange, and i wondered whether anyone had invented something akin to a mouse condom -- *my* mouse was certainly getting sticky in a hurry. come to think of it, a protective layer of disposable latex may just be what's missing from my life.

www.lehigh.edu/~pwf2/pwf2.html

The only station that comes in on my shitty radio office is the Mix station. They just played "Steal My Sunshine" approximately eight times, followed by a cheesy mid-90's power ballad remake of "You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling." Yes, I have.

Well, there's this new guy around the office. I don't know why he's here, and briefly considered introducing myself. But why bother? After two days of overhearing his banter, I've concluded he's already annoying the living shit out of me.

I feel better about my liberal arts degree when I read the applications of mathematically gifted but semi-literate techno-geeks. Today yielded the following: "I worked on the campaign against the hungry" and "I would wring bells for the Salvation Army." I know it's bad but I feel smugly superior.

One more delight from the mix radio station: A song called "Mouth", with the chorus, "Would it be my fault if I could turn you on? When I kiss your mouth, I wanna taste it." American radio has hit rock bottom.

copyright 2000, benjamin wyskida and andy myatt, all rights reserved. george clinton appears courtesy sony records.