Wotta week.

So, we've finished moving at work. We moved from the 23rd floor up to the 28th floor. For me, it is actually a move back to 28. I'm in a cube across the aisle from my old cube (Plus ça change...).

It's kind of funny - I've actually had the same job for 12 years now. I was hired right out of college to work for a company that was bought by the company I now work for. There are only two of us left from my old company. The deal was for about 7.5 million, so I figure the company bought each of us for about 3.75 mil. When we were bought, we worked in an office at Franklin and Madison. I commuted there from DeKalb each day. I would (usually) get up late, drive like a bat out of hell downtown, work until late, drive like a bat back into hell, and make it to Otto's for last call (which explains the late start each day). I did this for 2.5 years until I moved to the city. It wasn't long after the move to the city that we were bought.

From there, we moved to the Saks Fifth Avenue building into a totally sweet space with a Foosball table and a couch to nap on and, best of all, FREE SODA! That lasted until the bubble burst. After that they moved us all to the Hancock and gave us cubes (I'd been in an office for years prior to that). That cube was on the 28th floor of the Hancock. That was when I was part of the Media Lab at my current company. There were about 50 of us who worked on various aspects of planning, designing, and executing web-based solutions.

One Friday, phones started ringing. People were told that they had to attend a manditory meeting the next Monday. We all figured we knew what was going on, but didn't know if it was better to get a call, or not get a call. I didn't get a call, which turns out to be the "good" thing. Some of my friends who were let go are still bitter. It was a shitty way to handle it.

So, the remaining 12 of us were moved down to 23. We were all pissed off because we thought 23 was such an inferior space to 28 (and I still think it was). Ten of those twelve have left to do other things (which makes me one of the last two from the Media Lab as well). Recently, they decided to sublet 23 and moved us back up to 28.

You might say, "Well, at least you're back in a cool space." You'd be wrong. Before they moved us up, they put in a drop ceiling (low), fluorescent lights (bright), and painted everything white, white, white (generic). I feel a bit like I'm working at Dunder Mifflin or the place in Office Space.

Oh, well. I'll get used to the flicker of the fluorescents and the low ceilings. I always do. I mean, they did pay 3.75 million for me after all...

Movie Night!

Hey! We actually watched a movie tonight! We watched Memoirs of a Geisha. As you can see, both the women and the cinematography were stunning.

I think there may have been only one "crying baby" break and one "get some snacks" break during the whole film. That's a definite improvement over the three weeks it took me to watch Independence Day. I have to say, the payoff after 3-point-something hours to see Geisha was much greater than the payoff after 3-point-something weeks of watching Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum beat up intergalactic rastafarians. I really hope we're on to a new thing here where we actually get to see some flicks!

Here's some food; now, give me your poop...

We've recently started Ellie on solid foods, which is the cutest thing in the world. She didn't really know what to make of the carrots when we first fed them to her. She made a face like she was smelling cab driver feet, but quickly learned to like them... alot. It also had the side effect of transforming the condition known around here as "code brown" to "code orange." When that happens, we remove her wrapper and drop it into a device that, with a couple of twists, turns it into a neatly wrapped link in a chain of poo sausages. I then take those poo sausage links and deposit them in the trash outside. I figure this is just good practice for when Ed and I are roommates in the retirement home. But the food for poop program we've instituted around here doesn't stop there.

Every night when the daylight fluorescent lamps go out and the blue (actinic) lamps are still on in the aquarium, I sprinkle some dried seaweed in the tank which the fish and starfish like to munch on. Once a week, I add some brine shrimp (that's right - sea monkeys) and other frozen, meaty crap to the tank and everyone in there goes nuts. All the while, a water pump sprays a jet of water into a foam fractionation chamber. What that translates to is that it blows bubbles and the fish poop sticks to the surface of the bubbles and collects in a plastic cup which I empty at regular intervals.

We have to feed the cat. It's less an ethical imperative than a "stop being such a pain in the ass" responsibility. He will undertake any of a number of anti-social behaviors to get us to feed him: eating toilet paper, crying in Ellie's room so we hear him on the monitor, grab my glasses from my nightstand and drag them towards his food dish, etc. Again at regular intervals (but, not as regular as I probably should) I scoop his poop from a sandbox and shovel it into a plastic Jewel bag which I tie off and throw in the trash outside. I figure this is good practice for when the Old Dog and I are roommates at the retirement home.

And what's my job but feeding effort to my company which, in turn, poops cash to it's employees? Again, not an ethical imperitive as much as a "stop being such a pain in the ass" responsibility.

So I say to you, world: "Here's some food; now, give me your poop!"

Dusty must-y go-y...

I'm sick of announcers apologizing for Dusty. Brenly said the other day that, "You can't blame Dusty. You can only do so much as a manager to get your guys ready to play. What needs to happen is that a leader needs to step up in the locker room and get the other guys to focus on showing up to the ballpark and playing every day."

Excuse me, but isn't the manager's job, by definition, to lead the team? It seems to me that whatever "mojo" Dusty brought with him is gone. Someone must be taken to task for what's going on there and, you can't fire the whole team... Or, can you?

Oh, well... At least he's not using homosexuality as an insult... Twice...

Crap...

So, I lent the Supacam to Buddy George for his trip out to the east coast, which just figures... After carrying that thing around with me every day for a month trying to capture YouTube worthy video, there's some sort of Wicked Witch convention going on at the Water Tower today.

Moms and daughters lining up with pointy hats and green faces... There was, like, 50 of them and counting on my way in. Crap...

Works always getting in the way...

I wish I could win Lotto. I'm sure a lot of people wish they could win Lotto, but I have big plans. Apart from devoting more of my time to my family and my band (which is back to being called Big Drag, thank whatever higher power you believe in), Old Dog and I can finally execute our beautiful, albeit very expensive, prank upon the 'burbs.

See, I'm going to take my fortune and invest it in a lighthouse which I will have transported to the middle of a subdivision in Schaumburg. I love the idea of turning the lawn into a pile of rocks with plastic lobsters stuck to them and coming out to check my mail in a rain slicker. I would run the lantern day and night accompanied by the occasional "Oooooooooooooh-gaaaahhhhhhh!" that goes with running a lighthouse.

Old Dog, in the meantime, will purchase a ship which he will sail on the lot next to my lighthouse. He can shout unintelligable insults from the deck at passersby and occasionally climb the mast into the crows nest for a good look around.

When the city finally succeeds in shutting my lighthouse down due to the light and noise pollution, Old Dog will crash his ship so we can say, "Arrrrrrgh! We tried to warn ya! Why didn't ye listen... Arrrrrrgh!"

On a related note, you should hear my plan to buy the Pittsburgh Pirates with Ed.

Is radio getting better?

I was listening to Q101 on the way home from work last night, and they played the new Muse Song which sounds like Queen on amphetimenes so, needless to say, I loved it. They followed that with Marley's "Jammin'," and "Bitchin' Camaro." In fact, the whole ride home was cool...

Ugh...

I just got home from work. I was stuck out at a client site, which is criminal because I took a paycut for a job working inside the firm. Oh, well.

So... I was talking yesterday morning with one of my "bus friends" (People I only know because we ride the same bus line. For some reason, they all tend to be young women. I swear to God I don't actively seek to meet these people, they start talking to me. One was a guy. He was a musician, so maybe he picked up on the music vibe. So, women and musicians, look me up on Bus Route 66 and we'll get our kicks...) and she was relating the story of one of her coworkers browsing Monster and seeing her own job posted there. I thought that was funny, because how do you bring that up to your boss? I think I'd apply for the job. I'd already have all the relevant experience...

Actually, after a day like today, I don't think I'd apply for my job.