Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Difficulties
I have to make a goodbye card for one of my supervisors at work. Required sentiment is always so difficult for me; on the last baby shower card to cross my desk I wrote "Hooray for babies!" What makes this worse is that we were told to "be creative" and "write a note, pen a poem, or draw a picture." I’m just not that sure that anyone wants to read a haiku about that awkward conversation I had with my supervisor about family karaoke or see my visual depiction of the time I was high on Dayquil at her Thanksgiving party. I’m contemplating maybe just writing a poem where each letter of her name is used to reference a different complimentary adjective. If it was good enough for my mom when I was in second grade, it should be good enough for the woman who could determine the course of my professional life, right?
In other news, I have recently discovered that some gentlemen at my gym believe it is appropriate to change directly back into their work clothes, sans shower, after a workout. Is this not perhaps the most disgusting thing you have ever heard not involving a dead baby or Michael Jackson? Seriously, guys, either your workout or your hygiene needs to be bumped up a notch.
And I have nothing cool to read right now. I finished off the Faulkner and all I have left in my apartment is a volume of T.S. Eliot that I feel like I wouldn’t be able to comprehend while being jostled and groped on the train. Oh, and that book of "comedy" pieces apparently culled from amateur night at the Laugh Factory and the reject bin at Reader’s Digest that my mom got me for Christmas. I think it’s time for a library trip, no matter how smelly it may be.
I have to make a goodbye card for one of my supervisors at work. Required sentiment is always so difficult for me; on the last baby shower card to cross my desk I wrote "Hooray for babies!" What makes this worse is that we were told to "be creative" and "write a note, pen a poem, or draw a picture." I’m just not that sure that anyone wants to read a haiku about that awkward conversation I had with my supervisor about family karaoke or see my visual depiction of the time I was high on Dayquil at her Thanksgiving party. I’m contemplating maybe just writing a poem where each letter of her name is used to reference a different complimentary adjective. If it was good enough for my mom when I was in second grade, it should be good enough for the woman who could determine the course of my professional life, right?
In other news, I have recently discovered that some gentlemen at my gym believe it is appropriate to change directly back into their work clothes, sans shower, after a workout. Is this not perhaps the most disgusting thing you have ever heard not involving a dead baby or Michael Jackson? Seriously, guys, either your workout or your hygiene needs to be bumped up a notch.
And I have nothing cool to read right now. I finished off the Faulkner and all I have left in my apartment is a volume of T.S. Eliot that I feel like I wouldn’t be able to comprehend while being jostled and groped on the train. Oh, and that book of "comedy" pieces apparently culled from amateur night at the Laugh Factory and the reject bin at Reader’s Digest that my mom got me for Christmas. I think it’s time for a library trip, no matter how smelly it may be.
