Friday, March 28, 2008

I've Received An Internet Act Of Goodwill

I just want to give a shout out to my friend Amanda who showed me the blogging ropes. Not only did Amanda link my blog to the internet at large, she also:
  • Acknowledges that my hair has been appraised at a value of at least $1M
  • Owns a pug that doesn’t hump my leg
  • Is a competitive knitter and talks trash about yarn of all things
  • Has seen a man shaved “all over” along with the unfortunate aftermath
  • Is being stalked by an eskimo

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Pipe Dream For Accountants

I had to do a lot of commuting in the car before my son was born and I listened to a lot of radio...specifically sports radio. It was interesting listening to people whose lives revolved around sports or who gave it way too much thought. It made me wonder what it must be like to be an athlete. Sure, the money is good and there are some upsides to fame. However, there are some definite benefits to anonymity. I tried to picture what it would be like if my job was viewed the same as an athlete.

  • I would be heckled as being soft for going to get a soda and not "leaving 110% in the cube."
  • People would read into my clothing choices. The blue button-down means "I came ready to work and my teammates should fear me." Also, I would give a shout-out to my recently laid-off homeys by writing their names on the back of my loafers.
  • Experts would question whether I go to the SQL tables enough.
  • Stuart Scott would yell "Boo Yah" whenever I replied to an e-mail.
  • People would debate in barbershops whether my management style was "old-school" or "modern."
  • I would be a role model to children. They'd begin dreaming of updating their voice mail message and doing yard work.
  • It would be acceptable to spit in my office. Also, people wouldn't think anything strange about my burping and farting.
  • People named Chad would call in to radio programs and complain that I blew them off at Dunkin Donuts.
  • Nerds (nerdier than me) would track my performance relative to review time to see if I performed better in a "contract month."
  • My mistakes would be scrutinized. Oh wait, that already happens.
  • Jay Marriotti would write a column floating rumors that the executive office was conspiring to fix the financials so that I could exceed forecast.
  • There would be an over/under line in Vegas on when certain reports would be distributed.
  • I'd have to assemble a "posse" of other analysts. We'd hang out in computer stores and race cordless mice.
  • Lord knows that the groupies would look like.
  • Little kids would ask me to sign their calculators.
  • Adults would auction off my timesheets on eBay.
  • Hardcore fans would frame signed financial statements and forecasts.
  • I’d have to enter work through the “Analysts Entrance.”
  • My agent would receive my annual review and negotiate my merit raise and incentive comp. Also, my agent would call my boss every once in awhile and say, "He's not happy."
  • They’d make a movie named “Type It Like Sherwood.”
  • People wouldn't ask if I have too much time on my hands.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Dumb Question Ed

I am sorry to report, but all my teachers are wrong. Teachers always like to tell us that there are no dumb questions. However, Parade Magazine has shown that there are dumb questions and they’re most likely asked by dumb people.

Parade Magazine is published on Sundays and distributed with many local newspapers. They provide a Q&A page so that Hollywood publicists can confirm their clients are still alive (though lord knows what their clients have been doing between starring in “Facts of Life” and publishing a book of poems about anger) and it is intended to be read while going to the bathroom.

Today’s Parade Magazine featured the following question: “Why does George Clooney date women half his age, like Sarah Larson?” I don’t even have to give you the answer. All I can confirm is that (a) Edward Koziol from Aynor, SC is a dumbass and (b) I’m pretty sure that Ed needs to give a different answer when his wife asks him if she looks fat in those pants.