Gripe, Gripe, Gripe. Complain, Complain, Complain.
Angry stuff that'll probably make someone else angry. The Reagan Grief Fetish Network (a.k.a. CNN) has been blaring away in the break room all damn day. It's loud enough that it's audiable at a normal conversational level in my cube. I wish I had a radio with me, but I bet NPR is covering this too. Argh.
I can barely remember the last time a non-disgraced president got buried. (Nixon, obviously, does not count. And, damn it, in my book Reagan should be considered disgraced too. He was not honorable, unless you consider utter obliviousness to be honorable, which I don't.) I have vague memories of Truman dying. It was around '72 (oddly, I don't remember LBJ dying at all, which was slightly more recent.) There was a lot of media attention for that as well. But it lacked the whole manipulatory, pumped directly into your brain quality of the coverage of Reagan's death. Admittedly, I was only seven when Truman died, but still...
I wish I could list all the ways this exercise in selective memory has been pissing me off, but it's just too depressing.
Okay, enough death shit. I've decided I really hate birthday cards. They all suck. Your choice is limited to bad aging jokes, bad drunk jokes, bad sex jokes, weird jokes, or indigestible mush. None of those options are appropriate for some people. My Mom, for example. I finally settled on one with a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson. It's a quote about aging, which bugs me, but at least it's an Emerson quote about aging.
And work. Shit on a shingle! I don't have much to do, but what I do have to do is bizarre and complicated. Technical errors I've never seen before. Problems that are brand new to me. Situations that are so badly and angrily explained I have no idea what's going on. And everyone who can possibly help me on them is gone. It's just weird, the whole department is gutted by vacations and conferences. Meanwhile, the people waiting for me to do something continue to stew, blame me, and work their little Machiavellian angles on getting my ass fired. Maybe I'm being paranoid. But when no one has the writing skill to compose an email that doesn't sound like a fucking blood oath, how else am I supposed to feel?
Guh. Enough of this. Sorry to bring you all down.
A lot of stupidly cheap DVDs at Target right now. Jaws for $7.50! Terminator 2 for $10! The new SCTV boxed set for $59.99! Damn, this is frustrating. If I only had the cash, I'd load up.
Met with the Brainco partner last night for the final bit on our PSA. Got the storyboard artist to draw the four dumb little sketches we needed, printed out the copy in a reasonably cool-looking way, pasted it all up. Our concept gets delivered today. I think we have a reasonable shot. I just wish we got done before midnight.
Gaming tonight with Patguy. Looking forward to it.
I can barely remember the last time a non-disgraced president got buried. (Nixon, obviously, does not count. And, damn it, in my book Reagan should be considered disgraced too. He was not honorable, unless you consider utter obliviousness to be honorable, which I don't.) I have vague memories of Truman dying. It was around '72 (oddly, I don't remember LBJ dying at all, which was slightly more recent.) There was a lot of media attention for that as well. But it lacked the whole manipulatory, pumped directly into your brain quality of the coverage of Reagan's death. Admittedly, I was only seven when Truman died, but still...
I wish I could list all the ways this exercise in selective memory has been pissing me off, but it's just too depressing.
Okay, enough death shit. I've decided I really hate birthday cards. They all suck. Your choice is limited to bad aging jokes, bad drunk jokes, bad sex jokes, weird jokes, or indigestible mush. None of those options are appropriate for some people. My Mom, for example. I finally settled on one with a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson. It's a quote about aging, which bugs me, but at least it's an Emerson quote about aging.
And work. Shit on a shingle! I don't have much to do, but what I do have to do is bizarre and complicated. Technical errors I've never seen before. Problems that are brand new to me. Situations that are so badly and angrily explained I have no idea what's going on. And everyone who can possibly help me on them is gone. It's just weird, the whole department is gutted by vacations and conferences. Meanwhile, the people waiting for me to do something continue to stew, blame me, and work their little Machiavellian angles on getting my ass fired. Maybe I'm being paranoid. But when no one has the writing skill to compose an email that doesn't sound like a fucking blood oath, how else am I supposed to feel?
Guh. Enough of this. Sorry to bring you all down.
A lot of stupidly cheap DVDs at Target right now. Jaws for $7.50! Terminator 2 for $10! The new SCTV boxed set for $59.99! Damn, this is frustrating. If I only had the cash, I'd load up.
Met with the Brainco partner last night for the final bit on our PSA. Got the storyboard artist to draw the four dumb little sketches we needed, printed out the copy in a reasonably cool-looking way, pasted it all up. Our concept gets delivered today. I think we have a reasonable shot. I just wish we got done before midnight.
Gaming tonight with Patguy. Looking forward to it.