Category Archives: work

September 28, 2012 · 1:13 pm

A constructive use of time at work

I am pretty sure that there had to be a more constructive use for my time at work other than researching this:

No, seriously, is it the corn or something?

But what is meeting up with standards, productivity goals, and quality assurance when one has a thirst for knowledge such as I possess?

Additionally, what the fuck is going on out there? Is there some sort of Übermensch of hotties being grown out there without my knowledge? If anyone could shed some light on this, I bet my job would appreciate it.

 

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July 5, 2012 · 6:03 pm

And the day is closer than I thought

Remember when I found the quality control sticker on my person? I was convinced that the robots are coming to take over? This might have been met with head shaking, or consternation pertaining to my paranoia – potential schizophrenia?

Well, I just looked down at my arm and saw this:

yeah, that is another QC sticker – this time with a number

Watch your asses, befriend your snack machines, speak sweetly to your computer.

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June 29, 2012 · 6:23 pm

Official – the robots are self-aware

I’ve always suspected that earth was mere moments away from the robots becoming self-aware. There are suspicious “vending” machines at my job, which I believe might be agents of robot destruction just awaiting the robot apocalypse.  Since I live in fear of the work vending machines and the coming carnage, I’ve attempted to become friends with the robots (or alien robots? Maybe a Transformer sorta thing going on here?) and be their vessel once they are sentient.

And the day is nigh. Because when I woke up this morning this was on me:

Hm? What the fuck is that on me?

Generally, outside of my many tattoos I don’t put any stickers on my person unless they are of the Lisa Frank variety

Recognize greatness, bitches!

This is not Lisa Frank. The above sticker is something all together UNLIKE Lisa Frank.

That is a QUALITY ASSURANCE sticker. The robots have assured that I am quality. Also, note the empty toilet paper holder – I am always too lazy to put the actual roll in there.

Well I passed the robot quality assurance test: I’ve passed their first round.

Which can only mean that the day of the robot takeover is closer. I am a-okay in their book but you should probably start sucking up to your own vending machines

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June 20, 2012 · 3:44 pm

The many promises to eat better with my advancing age

Every single day I promise to eat lunch at my office like a normal office drone that brown paper bags it. In an effort to not grow to the size of a planet with my advancing age, in my imagination those lunches are always ridiculously healthy: beet salads and the like.

that right there is a bagel with cream cheese topped with Cheez Its

But I just have such a hard time keeping promises to myself. Maybe I’ll just start going to the gym instead?

 

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April 10, 2012 · 8:18 pm

Work Attire

Some offices have corporate casual. I think my office does as well. I have chosen to ignore the corporate part of that sentiment and focus on the casual. Sometimes I am so casual in the morning while dressing that I just randomly pick clothes off of the floor. And I end up coming to work in a t-shirt that is an homage to the Disney movie about singing dancing  news boys

Oh – you know!

So, I wore my Newsies t-shirt to work. But this shirt not only was emblazoned with “Never fear, Brooklyn is here!” but also completely covered in my blood. From when I fell. On my face. Incredibly hard.  The blood clots changed the charming Disney sentiment  from one of encouragement to menace.

Carry the banner, ya'll!

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February 7, 2012 · 4:55 pm

You work is not so great

You might be surprised to find out that You Life is fully employed by an outside agency. And it isn’t as a representative for a spirits distributor. No, my daytime job is both bureaucratic and depressing. I am like a latter, female, Harvey Pekar (without the cancer, RIP dude).

And like any office job I am required to password protect…well, everything.

And then change my password.

Every month.

After all the typing, and passwords, and computers, and numbers I begin to feel more like a slightly sentient robot than a human. So I made  a new password to reflect that: Robots love us!

Be my robot mommy.

When the computers become self-aware I will be their vessel. Hear me, oh robot gods!

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