2002-12-19

Yeah, yeah -- I'm still here.

Yeah, I'm still here. Just frickin' swamped.

So it's the holidays and all, and it's the season of vendor gifts here at work. Every day some opulent fruit-n-cheese basket, or a selection of hand-dipped chocolates, or a festive tin of mixed nuts arrives.

The events manager, who works in the cube next to mine, just got this HUGE poinsettia; it's the size of a small shrub and looks like it's made out of velvet. I mean, I'm not a big fan of poinsettias, but this is a nice-looking plant.

Since the only vendors I work with are mailhouses and accounting firms, I get zilch, yo. A fold-out calendar, maybe. Where is the love, chickens?

To the lady on the Orange Line this morning: the fact that everyone within a 7 foot radius of you could not only tell that you were listening to Eminem, but could also rap right along with the "Lose Yourself" chorus, kind of negates the whole concept of headphones. Granted, while several of us certainly enjoyed the irony of your music choice combined with your frumpy, librarian-in-a-holiday-sweater appearance, here's the thing: turn the shit down.

So the other day I had some stank hair going on, and just couldn't be bothered with washing it, so I went with a black beret, carefully arranging the bottom half of my hair into a semi-flip. By noon or so, my head was itchy, so I went into the bathroom to assess the possibility of going sans beret for the rest of the workday, and saw that I had inadvertently cooked my hair into a near-perfect Suzi Quatro shag. I wandered around the office singing "Stumblin' In," in the hopes that someone would get the joke. Nobody did.

lisamcc at 12:52 p.m.

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