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

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Volume Seventeen:
George W. Bush Wears Buttless Chaps

My office is really hot today. I opened the window, and now it smells like dogshit.

I'm indexing the weekly "Variety" at work. In TV news, I learned that premiering on USA in January 2000 will be the series "Cleopatra 2525." Here's the lowdown: "Follows the futuristic trials of an actress/exotic dancer who is cryogenically frozen in the year 2001 and accidentally dethawed in 2525, where she wakes up in an underground world ruled by evil robots." (I might be crazy, but I'm not crazy enough to be making this up.)

I popped a zit at the computer, and there is puss on the screen and blood on the keyboard.

A co-worker and I are working on a small exhibit of Christmas cards from our collections to go up on the website. I was looking through a box of cards made by artists and found one from the year 1968. It was inscribed with something along the lines of "Hope you have a great '69." I should also add that the card consisted of a piece of handmade paper with a couple engaged in the 69 position embossed on the handmade paper. My co-worker was horrified when I called everyone over (including our director) to show them.

I suggested a "Secret Hanukkah Harry" for my office this holiday season, and everybody laughed at me.

So all this week there has been a very attractive researcher from France using our facilities. I would also like to point out for the record that he smells good too. Yesterday, right in front of him, I dropped a whole armload of microfilm on the copier machine, which made a loud crashing sound against the glass. I felt embarrassed for about an hour.

Two Words: Holiday Party. Two More Words: Ugly Coworkers. Two More Words: Liquor.

I too have had close calls with PUBLIC and PUBIC. I am waiting for the day when one slips by me and I send something to the [Insert name of township or county] Pubic Library.

I'm temping at Amazon.com at night now, pulling book orders. Someone had ordered James Dobson's "Love for a Lifetime: Building a Marriage That Will Go the Distance" (of Christian Coalition fame) as well as the complete series of "X Rated Video: Guide to Pornography."

My office smells like dogshit again today.

My office's "Secret Santa" game has gotten out of hand. I feel like the base commander in that old movie, "The Thing.": "Secret Santa, day five. The office is filled with suspicion and paranoia. No one trusts each other anymore. We're watching every minute for signs of guilt. And I'm getting real tired..." I might also add that I have yet to get my first present.

My co-worker Scott, who by the way bears a striking resemblance to Doc Brown (Back to the Future), keeps a foam egg crate under his desk just in case someone needs a nap. I'm thinking of borrowing the foam, closing my door with a note on it saying "Conference Call in Progress". I don't think anyone will notice.

My boss is a cat lover and every year she makes little mice filled with dried catnip for all of her friends with cats. Since the holidays are fast approaching, she often brings her supplies in to do a little stitching on her lunch hour. She also brings in ziploc bags filled to the brim with dried catnip. She has been seen shaking the bag around and asking people if they want to buy some weed. I love my job.

Today I told the hoodies about how I was shot at and tear gassed by the police in my own neighborhood. They could relate. We're all great friends now.

This week's Golden Cubicle Award (and there were SO many choices...kudos to you I say...kudos) goes to Jenny Jones, of Chicago, Illinois who writes:

**Every morning on my way to work I pass a house. This house still has a pumpkin on its porch. Its been there since October. Why, why don't the owners throw it away, put it out of its misery? I'm so sick of looking at it from my car. Its almost Christmas, for Christ's sake. There should be a precious little baby Jesus there instead. Come on, I can see that you take care of your yard, now TAKE CARE OF YOUR GOD DAMNED PUMPKIN!!!**

Today I heard laughing coming out of my bosses office. I found her "elfbowling" on the web. When I pointed out that it was not "work" she told me to be quiet because I was distracting her.

I'm invited to a free Texas-Style Chili Feed to celebrate the University's tourney and bowl game bids; I think I might go.

Out of the corner of my eye the telephone appears to blinking as if I have a message. When I turn my head I realize it is not. Is the telephone taunting me or am I just going crazy?

My mom sent me one of those chain emails that forewarns women against all the dangers of modern society. This time, it told me to watch out for two-way mirrors in restrooms. The litmus test is that if you touch the tip of your fingernail against the reflective surface and there is no gap between the nail and the nail's image, then Beware! It is a two-way mirror. I tried this out on my computer monitor. Now I'm pretty sure there is a tiny, creepy, masturbating man in my monitor watching me as I type and sniff whiteout all day.

Wet naps. MMMMMMMMMMMMMM...wet naps.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling especially bitter about being an entry-level shitworker in the publishing industry, I like to share the ressentiment by sending nasty emails to major publications reminding them that all their writers are old and uncool. A well-constructed, intelligent reply just doesn't provide the gratification of bitchery like "Camille Paglia is utterly fucking clueless!" or "Send this cheap hack fuckwit back to Rolling Stone!"

Cheap humor: I walked in on my supervisor urinating in the bathroom this afternoon. "That's quite a bladder you have there!" I said and he responded, "what?" as he turned and urinated on his shoes. I didn't end up going to the chili feed.

Six brief moments of delight: glazed, powdered, chocolate, maple, marble iced, jelly.

The Christmas decorations have gone up, the Secret Santa names have been chosen, and the office is a buzz with holiday cheer. The primary task at hand now is planning for the upcoming Christmas party. However, since the eggnog will not be spiked I don't think there will be another moment like the one that occured at a recent going away party: Ms. X walked into the conference room, took one look at the platter of feta cheese and said, no joke, "That looks like my yeast infection." When Ms. Y said, "What!?!" Ms. Z--whose primary language, it should be pointed out, is not English, and who has not grasped some of the finer points of American idomatic expressions--said, "Ms. X has a pussy problem."

The last two days I have arrived at work 5-10 minutes before my boss and my assistant, and then I throw a bunch of papers on the floor and open up several windoes on the computer so it looks like I9ve been there for an hour or two. Then I leave early.

There is now a second bathroom lady! A woman was spotted in the woman's bathroom, not her stall mind you, preparing for battle by pulling down both her pants and underwear, exposing her bare naked ass. This same woman was spotted later in the week walking into the bathroom, in full view of the hallway, not with her pants down, but with her shirt pulled up exposing her bra.