Filed under: General, Photobooth Chronicles on June 10th, 2009 | 8 Comments »

****BREAKING NEWS****

When inquiring about a client’s dress code, you should probably ask the people who typically work with that client on a day-to-day basis, not the people who kind of think they remember what everyone was wearing the last time they were there a couple years ago.

Because if you do the latter, you will end up dressed like a British Airways flight attendant in the meeting and everyone else WILL BE WEARING KHAKIS AND POLO SHIRTS BECAUSE THEY WORK IN A SUPER CASUAL ENVIRONMENT WITH PING-PONG TABLES AND FREE STARBUCKS AND RUNNING TRACKS OUT BACK!!!!

Again, it’s good that they don’t let me out of the office very often.

Filed under: General on June 8th, 2009 | 11 Comments »

What are the odds that my insurance company would believe me if I told them my apartment was robbed, but the only things the thieves took were my clothes? Or maybe I could say there was a fire, but it was contained exclusively to my closet. Highly localized flood?

Here’s the thing: I need an entirely new wardrobe. This became painfully clear to me this week when I found out I had to fly out today for a client meeting at a fairly conservative company. For the past five years, I’ve worked in a business casual environment, and I probably lean more toward the casual side of that spectrum. But I’ve worked in more formal environments before, so earlier this week, I told myself that I could just tap into the Smithsonian wing of my closet that houses my more professional clothes.

When I actually started looking through my closet on Friday to see what I could wear, I was instantly overcome by the panicked realization that I would have to lose 15 pounds in two days in order to fit into my old suits *and* accomplish this while simultaneously building a time machine so I could go back to an era when high-waisted, pleated pants were fashionable. In a nutshell, I was screwed.

Knowing that there was no time to buy a whole new outfit, because pants are now made for women who are a minimum of 5’10” and I couldn’t deal with trying to get them hemmed before my trip, I was going to have to make due with one of the few pairs of nice pants that actually fit me. Then I convinced myself that I would just go to the mall and pick out a new, professional looking blouse and be done with it.

After two hours of scouring every single woman’s clothing store in the mall, I was at an absolute loss. How was it possible that the only two options in an entire shopping center were peasant blouse or something with gold buttons? Every single store had some variation on that theme – overly casual or hideous.

That’s when the rationalizations began:

• Sure, a jacket would have been nice, but I think it’s supposed to be 95 degrees there on Monday. No one would expect me to wear a jacket, would they?
• Maybe I can get a nice scarf to go with this completely plain white shirt and then that will dress it up more. Yes. A huge scarf. Maybe one that looks like a jacket.
• Earrings. All the stylish professional women I see downtown are wearing earrings. That’s what I need.
• Men have it so damn easy. White shirt, pants, throw on that stupid blazer that doesn’t even match and no one notices. Put a tie in your pocket just in case. What’s the difference between a guy wearing a white shirt and pants and me wearing a white shirt and pants? Why do I have to have gold buttons? F*ckers.
• Hey! If I quit my job today, I wouldn’t have to go on this trip.
• What if I just say that shampoo leaked all over my beautiful and appropriate suit, so I had to wear this instead?
• Should I wear lipstick? Will that distract them from the fact that I’m underdressed?
• I wonder if that bridesmaid’s dress from Kim’s wedding still fits me. Oh, but then I’d need to find some new shoes. Never mind.

What I ultimately settled on will be on the slacker end of the professional business attire, but I’ll wear my contact lenses and whore lipstick and earrings and a scarf to draw attention away from that fact. I call it the Rita Moreno West Side Story defense. If that fails to distract, I will launch into a round of hand clapping, finger snapping and high pitched yelping.

I’m starting to understand why they don’t let me out of the office very often.

But while I’m gone, if one of you accidentally fell into my closet while operating a blowtorch, I wouldn’t be heartbroken. I’m just saying.

Filed under: General on June 7th, 2009 | 10 Comments »

Filed under: General, Photobooth Chronicles on June 3rd, 2009 | 12 Comments »

Filed under: General, Photobooth Chronicles on May 31st, 2009 | 12 Comments »

Wow, I just love the creative types.

[via Laughing Squid]

Filed under: General on May 30th, 2009 | 2 Comments »

Filed under: General, Photobooth Chronicles on May 28th, 2009 | 15 Comments »

Watching Terminator Salvation over the weekend confirmed one thing for me: technology is out to destroy us all. Technology has been on my shit list ever since my iPhone broke, even though that wasn’t really technology’s fault – it was more like concrete’s fault – but I just don’t think that concrete is out to destroy us all so I’m putting the blame on technology.

And then my RSS feeds got all messed up, which again, probably wasn’t technology’s fault as much as it was user error, but if technology were smarter and more helpful, it would have made it way more difficult for me to break my own website.

Anyway, my friends Natasha and Farnsworth had been eager to see Terminator Salvation, so in preparation, they rented Terminators 1 through 3 as a refresher course. They made it through 1 and 2 before we saw the new one on Saturday.

I don’t want to spoil anything for anyone, so I’ll just tell you that Christian Bale shout-whispers through the whole thing, and a bunch of stuff blows up. And in the future, even when robots don’t have skin, for some reason they still wear pirate bandanas on their heads.

Afterwards, my friends and I spent at least an hour discussing all the film’s gaping plot holes over beers and deep fried macaroni and cheese, until we got bored and started searching for YouTube clips of fruit bats giving birth.

[Fun Fact: bats give birth hanging upside down.]

Then on Sunday, we all went to Natasha’s parents’ house for a Memorial Day tequila party. The weather was nice, so we gorged ourselves on delicious food and sipped expensive mescal on the back patio while Nat’s parents tried in vain to get some music piped into the back yard. Somehow, it was all tied to their TV in the basement, which no one but Nat’s little sister, Baby G, knew how to control and she hadn’t arrived yet.

Once the temperature started to drop, the party moved its way into the kitchen. Natasha and I were in charge of the Jimmy Buffett Margaritaville brand frozen margarita machine, but somehow got away with only having to make one pitcher of them before we retreated to the sweet solitude of the basement with surround sound, leather sofas and a 4,000 inch flat screen TV.

Not wanting to try to figure out their new-fangled cable TV, we opted to just watch Terminator 3, since the DVD player seemed to be working. Of the three complex remote controls on the coffee table, we had narrowed the choices down to two of them – one seemed to control the channels, and the other seemed to control NASA. Neither of them, however, controlled the volume, so I had to do what our forefathers before us did and get up off the leather recliner to adjust the volume. It was abominable and I hope to god I never have to suffer through that hardship again.

Everything was working fine until we would get to an explosion scene – which was every five to seven minutes – because then the volume would spike up about three times louder than the dialogue had just been. So we were forced to either strain to listen to the dialogue and hear the explosions at a normal level, or hear the dialogue at a decent level and be blasted out of our seats when another robot would show up. After the third time of getting up out of the comfort of my recliner to adjust the volume, I yelled at Nat, “Can’t you figure out one of those stupid remotes? One of them has to control the volume!”

“I’m trying! Look – I’m turning up the volume on this one as loud as it will get, and it’s not doing a thing.”

And that’s when we heard a barely intelligible, yet blood-curdling scream coming from upstairs, then some stomping, and then Baby G’s voice, screeching at the top of her lungs, “NAAAAAAAT!!! TURN IT DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWNNNNNNN!!!!!”

Baby G came storming down the stairs, snatched the remote out of Natasha’s hand and frantically pressed a bunch of buttons before throwing the remote back on the couch.

“Sheesh. What’s your problem?”

“Jesus Christ! You guys just turned the music up outside to like 10,000 decibels! Everyone in the whole neighborhood could hear it!”

Apparently, through our random combinations of button-pushing, we had inadvertently discovered how to pipe the music to the back patio, and had been blasting the entire subdivision with an ear-splitting rendition of Oye Como Va. A few car alarms were triggered in the process.

Baby G stomped back upstairs while we all burst into laughter.

The good thing about watching Terminator 3 is that it makes Terminator Salvation seem like Citizen Kane. The plot holes that seemed cavernous just the night before became entirely plausible compared to the painful dialogue and retched acting of its predecessor. I cannot ever recall shouting at the TV screen as much as I did that night.

“Oooh… look at me! I’m a T-X! Look at how I tilt my head when I’m about to kill you!”

“I’M SO F*CKING SURE! Yeah – now is REALLY a good time to stop and thank the robot, when another robot is about to grab your leg and that wall is about to come crashing down on you. Good call, moron.”

“How is this dumbass the leader of the resistance?!?”

“RIGHT! Like Claire Danes the veterinarian can be thrown headfirst across an airplane hangar into a giant tool box and then just get up and fly the plane. AAAARRRRGGGH! I CAN’T TAKE IT! THIS MOVIE IS A STEAMING PILE OF SHIT!”

So yeah, that’s the good thing about watching Terminator 3. But the best thing about watching Terminator 3 is when you get to play Santana, really, really loudly. Because if that doesn’t prove that the machines are out to destroy us all, then I don’t know what does.

Filed under: General on May 27th, 2009 | 9 Comments »

Filed under: General, Photobooth Chronicles on May 25th, 2009 | 8 Comments »

It may not be apparent to you, particularly if you’re not all that familiar with animal behavior, but this armadillo is incredibly happy. You can tell by the subtle smile lines near his eye. Don’t feel bad if you didn’t notice it, it took me years to learn how to read armadillo body language.

Anyway, just trust me when I tell you that he’s really happy. He’s happy because he and I are both pretty sure that my nagging RSS feed problems are fixed, at least most of them. And this is thanks in large part to the tireless efforts and endless patience of my friends Vahid and Dave, who endured weeks of emails from me trying to figure out the cause of the mysterious feed breakage. I have a bad habit of trying to figure things out on my own, with limited technical knowledge, and occasionally need to call in the big guns to clean up my mess.

So if some of you assumed I had given up blogging and finally moved onto that goat farm, welcome back! I’ve missed you more than you’ll ever know. But please… nobody make any loud noises or sudden movements. My RSS feeds are held together with duct tape, Popsicle sticks and chewing gum, so let’s not tempt fate, okay?

[slowly backs out of the room]

Filed under: General on May 23rd, 2009 | 10 Comments »