Online Harassment Seminar

My place of employment required me to complete a one-hour online sexual harassment seminar. Did I complete the entire thing? Yes I did.

Did I screen-grab images then edit them in the MS Paint on my work computer? YES I ALSO DID.

They now have funny captions! Click the first image to see a slideshow:

Let's Get Real: The Interview

“Let’s get real." he said, "The job market is terrible. You may have great skills. You may be a hard worker. But there are thousands of people out there just like you that are applying for the same positions.

“So how do you distinguish yourself?" he asked, "It's simple: the interview. Following a few easy guidelines during the interview process can really help set you apart from the crowd. Let’s go over some basics:

“First thing’s first: how do you dress for success? Everyone knows that you should come to any interview in business professional attire. Name brands are important. Wear a nice watch. The more obviously expensive your clothes, the more you will seem like you don't need any money, which is a surefire way

“So why not show up in clothes that are literally made of money? I am not being metaphorical about this. I’m talking about taking twenty dollar bills and sewing them together into a trim, stylish, non-gender-specific suit. And while we’re at it, I’m pretty sure it is possible to make thread out of gold. Although I am neither a metallurgist nor a seamstress, it’s worth looking into. The subtle glitter of golden thread will really show potential employers that you would make an excellent employee.

“Now I don’t want to be discouraging, but a sharp appearance is not necessarily enough to get you hired. Once you’ve impressed them with your WealthWear®, they are going to start asking you a bunch of questions. The first questions that the interviewer will ask are probably going to be about the logistics of walking down the street in a suit made primarily of American currency. Try to move past that quickly.

“Then you will be asked about how your education, expertise, and professional background relate to the position that you have applied for. It is very important to keep in mind that the answers to these questions are none of their fucking beeswax. Remember, if at any time you start to get uncomfortable, it is your right as an interviewee to have your lawyer present.

“Of course, that is only if things start to get out of hand. It probably won’t come to that. Just stay calm, be cool, and wink as often as possible. It helps to throw in a few veiled compliments about the interviewer’s sexual appeal. If you then sense that the interviewer is attracted to you, imply that a strong professional respect between you could―who knows?―turn into something more.

“Just be sure to remain fairly enigmatic and elusive. When they ask where you went to school, tell them that the name of the school is an unpronounceable symbol. If they ask you where the school is located, make a mysterious expression and allow several moments of meaningful silence to pass before discreetly pointing to your genitals.

“It doesn’t take much to successfully navigate any interview. Just follow my advice and you can get ahead in this highly competitive market.

“Believe me. I’ve interviewed dozens of people in my career. And, pending my inevitable vindication in several upcoming lawsuits, I will interview hundreds more.

“Anyway, thank you so much folks for taking the time to hear my thoughts on this today. It’s people like you who make people like me what I am. Now let’s get real… Would you like to hear the specials or do you already know what you want to order?”

Short Sheets

Yesterday, my friend Maria asked me if it was a good idea to buy sheets. This is in keeping with our usual pattern of conversation where she is genuinely stressing out about something I find ridiculous, and so I end up making wisecracks and being generally unhelpful.

You see, she's been in her new apartment almost three months now and she just bought a bed. Up until now, she's just been sleeping in a vaguely defined pile of her softest possessions. But now that she has a bed, she's debating whether or not to get sheets, so she called to ask me what I thought. I told her that, though I do not know the standard for women, for men having sheets on your bed is like having windows on your van. It says that you are probably not a rapist.

And, just to be clear, when I say that Maria has bought a "bed," I do so generously. What Maria has actually bought is a twin-sized box spring and, purchased separately, a full-sized mattress to balance on top. Together they make up a giant two-piece Jenga set, which she lays atop to slumber every night. When I asked why she would buy mismatched components of the seemingly simple and common apparatus known as a "bed," she ignored me and started talking about how she has been getting horrible sleep lately.

"I have really strange dreams," she said. "I'm standing near this volcano, and the ground around me is really unstable. And I know that if I walk in any direction the ground is going to open up and swallow me."

I told her that this makes sense. Any slight toss or turn in either direction will flip the mattress over and send her legs up in the air with a surprised scream, pinning her now very awake self to the hardwood floor.

"I think I'm drinking to much coffee," she said.

I told her that I was reminded of the summer after my sophomore year of college. Back then I had only a sheetless twin mattress in the corner of a preposterously cheap room to call my own. But, I said, I didn't really mind the bare and homeless-person-like arrangement on which I fell asleep. Because, at that time, "falling asleep" was really just a euphemism for what happened at the end of every night after a few hours of drinking beer on various porches with my friends. So most nights, I was unable to take any notice of something as trivial as the thing I happened to be passed out on.

However, after attempting to bring girls back to that room, I did eventually learn why bedsheets are like van windows.

Maria then proceeded to recount the entire premire of The Bachelor to me. She is one of these friends (though she may be the only one, as far as I know) who asks for advice and her questions end up haunting me for days. "Should I buy sheets?" She asks things that makes you fundamentally question assumptions that you didn't even know you had. In order to answer her question, I had to consider sheets on a level that was far more philosophical than II ever had before.

Should one buy sheets? I mean, guess so...

You can definitely defend that morality of a basic white cotton set. But if you get right down to it, there's a certain thread-count at which it starts to get hard to justify yourself. Think of all the people who would be amazed at just the idea of a BED. The more I think about it, the more I cannot for the life of me decide if I should or should not own sheets. "Should" just isn't a word that really enters into my relationship with sheets.

As always after I talk to Maria , I'm starting to drive myself crazy. I have to drop it before I flip the metaphorical mattress off my mental boxspring. I'm going to go buy a beer and try to forget about all these complicated answers to such simple questions.

My Grandpa Owned A Grocery Store

I don't think I would make a very good grocery store owner. I lack the necessary organizational skills and drive. Everything would start out good, but after a while I'd get lazy. People would come in and the floors would all be unmopped and the aisles would have empty shelves with open boxes scattered everywhere. It would takes hours of wandering around and peaking under cardboard flaps to find anything.

Also, you'd have to be real careful not to move the boxes, because I know right where everything is and if you move one I will never be able to fucking find anything. Actually, maybe all the customers should stand at the front of the store. Just shout out requests and I'll come back with what you want. But if you ask for something weird or stupid, then you won't get it. No one needs a zester. You can make your more retarded purchases at goddamn Walmart thankyouverymuch.

Seeing as my favorite thing in all grocery stores is the lobster tank, there is going to be a really really big lobster tank. And each one will be dressed up like a little lobster person, ideally a famous figure from history. If you would like to purchase a lobster, you must correctly guess its costume and tell me how that historical figure died. Then you must promise to kill the lobster in the same way before you eat it. For the customer's convenience, I will do my best to come up with historical figures that died by being thrown into a pot of rapidly boiling water. Though I'm not sure I can think of any off the top of my head. Also for the customer's convenience, I'll try to avoid historical figures that died of old age.

Perhaps during the holidays we'll stage a little lobster pageant, reenacting the nativity. I'm not sure about the logistics of making lobsters stand still to act out their the birth of Christ, but I imagine the audience will be forgiving if Joseph and one of the Magi claw lightly at each other. And, before you ask, the baby jesus lobster does cost extra but is probably the most delicious. Oh, and please don't sit on the boxes. I'm kind of touchy about the boxes.

Maybe it would be fun to own a grocery store. Or maybe just a novelty lobster aquarium. That way my top actors wouldn't keep getting eaten.

Wannabe Cupcake Muffin

I told everyone at work yesterday that I used to be in a heavy metal band called "Wannabe Cupcake Muffin." This isn't true, but I was really really bored. And when things get that way at work, I start approaching my coworkers and telling them elaborate lies about my life. It's actually probably my favorite work hobby.

But I didn't make up the phrase "Wannabe Cupcake Muffin" as the name of an imaginary heavy metal band. A couple of summers ago when I used to spend most of my time hanging out with friends instead of working, someone came up with the idea that we should all design t-shirts for threadless.com. This was basically a ploy to get a windfall of extra beer money because, as most everyone knows, threadless pays $5000 for good t-shirt designs. So one night, more as a joke than anything else, we riffed on t-shirt ideas and some one (I don't think it was me) came up with the words "Wannabe Cupcake Muffin."

After drinking some more beers, a complete vision for the t-shirt started to form. The premise was a muffin looking in a bathroom mirror, probably late at night after its little muffin wife had gone to bed. The muffin was slowly applying frosting to its top, just experimenting to see how it would feel to dress up as a cupcake. "Not for any reason or nothing," the muffin would say to himself. "More like as a joke." But he wouldn't tell any of his muffin friends who he worked with down at the factory about it. And when the boys started to make fun of Jerry for not coming bowling because he had to go curtain shopping with his wife, the muffin would mock him louder than anyone. "Jerry is such a little dessert," he would say, not remembering that the night before he had spread pink icing across his muffin top.

Needless to say, this was a difficult story to convey with the picture on the front of a t-shirt. It makes for a pretty confusing image. The similarities in appearance between a cupcake and a muffin, which is kinda the point of the whole thing, actually made it really hard to draw. How do you make a muffin that is distinctly not a cupcake, but also has frosting on top? And where do you put the arms? Or the eyes for that matter? It's perplexing to the t-shirt viewer, and you lose all the gay/tranny subtext.

And as the name of an imaginary heavy metal band, it was not too successful either. Nobody really believed me. But maybe that was because one of my coworkers brought in muffins that had this sweet peanut butter frosting on top. So it was pretty clear where the idea came from.

You know that thing...

You know that thing where you are walking directly at someone on the sidewalk, and in order to avoid running into each other, you use super-subtle body language to mutually decide if you will both go right or both go left? I was doing that thing with this businessman who was talking on a cell phone, and he shifted his torso every so slightly to the right, indicating that he wanted to go that way. But, for personal reasons I'm not going to disclose here, I wanted to go left. So I made it very clear with the direction of my stride that I was going left and that was that. This apparently came as a surprise to the businessman, who had to do a little stutter-step to avoid running into me. But then, when I passed him, I heard him talking on his phone and he was British.

Wtf? Why didn't he naturally go left?

Three Frisbee Players

About three days ago, I saw one human, one cartoon dog, and one gorilla walk out the Art Museum on State street togather. They had a frisbee and were clearly headed for the law quad. Their appearance was both bizarre and strangely casual.

One was dressed in the usual uniform that almost everyone in the world wears (frayed shorts, logo t-shirt, flip flops). The second guy was dressed in a gorilla costume. The third member of their party was dressed up as a yellow-spotted cartoon dog. They were chatting about something as they went to play frisbee. The normal-dressed one was clearly having a little trouble hearing the other two through their masks.

What was particularly strange about the costumed frisbeeists was how normally they were walking. Usually, if someone is in public wearing a costume, they work for some Chuck-E-Cheesesque or Disneyish corporation. And if that's not the case, then they are a zany person who likes the attention of dancing around in a costume.

But these guys were walking at a normal pace. No jumping around, no antics. Nothin. And now that I think of it, it's probably harder to behave normally in a cartoon dog suit than it is to behave like a cartoon dog. But this guy was doing it.

When they came up to cross South U. in order to get over to the Law Quad, a group of black kids on the corner started hollarin' at them. Their general sentiment was, "Holy shit! A dog!" They didn't really mock him, or his gorilla friend, so much as marvel at him. The way you do when someone wears a costume in public.

And the yellow dog turned his body to them in a way that said, "C'mon. You really gonna give me some shit about this." As much as person whose entire body is hidden under yellow-with-black-polka-dots felt can have an expression, this guy seemed wearied and resigned. As though he were some opressed minority that was no longer outraged or sad about being singled out, just exasperated.

The dog walked off into the law quad shaking his head, and the gorilla and the normal person patted him on the back. "It's ok man," they might have been saying. "Don't let those jerks get to you."

I imagine that the yellow dog just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't care. There will always be ignorant people. It's fine." And they played frisbee all day until the sun went down. It was probably really fun.