Saturday, September 30, 2017
Emoticons for Dummies
Listen, I know that it's sometimes difficult to decide what the appropriate emoticon for any given situation is. But what are you going to do, communicate with someone in person? I'm here to help with this handy breakdown.
SITUATION: You've been caught flying a chartered jet to various chili cook-offs and family reunions at taxpayer expense.
EMOTICON: Grimacing face.
SITUATION: You've had your bail revoked after making vaguely threatening and deeply weird comments about Hillary Clinton.
EMOTICON: Face with dollar signs for eyes and on tongue.
SITUATION: You've been granted parole after serving nine years in prison in connection with a plot to steal your own sports memorabilia that is unlikely to serve as the basis for an extension of the Ocean's series.
EMOTICON: Smiling cat face.
SITUATION: You're picking a Twitter fight with the victims of a hurricane.
EMOTION: Clown face.
SITUATION: Your cameo on the Emmys didn't go over quite as well as you thought it would.
EMOTION: Tossup between crying face and face that appears to be based on Edvard Munch's The Scream.
SITUATION: You're a celebrity announcing your pregnancy mere days after your equally famous and underserving younger sister.
EMOTICON: This is a tough one, but I'm going with Black Santa Claus.
SITUATION: Your company got hacked, which may or may not have resulted in the release of millions of people's sensitive personal information, but you're still getting a multi-million dollar golden parachute.
EMOTICON: Winky face with tongue out.
SITUATION: You used to be the biggest celebrity in the world, but now your big new release is neck and neck with the fourth weekend of a movie about a scary clown.
EMOTICON: I don't know, disco dancing man? I'm starting to miss the days of T9.
That's all for now. I hope this has been helpful. I live to serve, of course.
Saturday, September 23, 2017
Neighborhood Watch
Things have heated up a bit in the ole condo association lately. We had some renters move in across the courtyard from us, and immediately start having loud parties at 3 AM on Tuesdays including people toking up in front of the building and people jumping over the railings on the roof deck to sprint directly across the roof itself.
Now, I'm generally inclined to live and let live in this regard, at least when it's not right underneath me causing my floor to throb in time to Euortrash trance music. But my neighbors are not. These people save up their entire lives to buy townhouses so they can make rules about noise to enforce against people. And so the fines started rolling in.
My nosy neighbor, though, of course decided that she loved these guys and that they were being unfairly victimized. "They seem like good kids," she said. "Two of them have jobs, and one of them is in law school." Of course, my personal experience has taught me that admission in a law school should not be seen as a mark of character.
And then there was the home invasion. Apparently, one of these fine gentlemen was tripping balls earlier this week and returned home, except to the wrong home. Instead of apologizing and walking away, he decided to force his way into the wrong townhouse and, I am told, punch a woman in the face. He was subdued by several of my neighbors and escorted away by the police.
Clearly this was not well received. Except by my nosy neighbor, of course, who declared that she "thought they could have done a better job of de-escalating the situation" and that "if an attractive, affluent-looking young man came to my front door by mistake, I would just help him find the right place." This is the same woman who has spent weeks agitating against a new homeless shelter in my neighborhood, claiming it would attract drug dealers. So apparently actually using drugs and assaulting someone is fine, it's just dealing drugs in her imagination that's a problem. And by the way, if a drug dealer is homeless, he's clearly not doing it right.
Anyway, needless to say, there shall be a rigorous debate. And I shall attempt to be as uninvolved as possible.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Pop Star
My assistant has a lot of interesting qualities. She decorates her cubicle feverishly for every holiday from Presidents' Day to Arbor Day, and she follows my movements like the only Soviet spy not currently employed by the Trump administration. She eats her lunch in a corner conference room, where she takes off her shoes, puts her feet up on the desk, and tucks into a romance novel whilst spooning pasta salad from Tupperware. She changes screensavers frequently. But perhaps her most deep and abiding quality is that she loves popcorn. And she loves to make other people eat it.
The tin of Garrett's had barely arrived on Tuesday before she sent me an email urging me to come have some. I didn't even have time to respond before she knocked on my door holding a bowl of it. My protestations that I wasn't hungry fell on deaf ears. And I had no sooner finished than she stopped by to offer me seconds. "It's gotta go," she said. "And it'll be best while it's fresh." I tried to put her off by promising to come by for some in the afternoon, but she was not deterred. "Just take it now," she said. "You can eat it whenever."
Which is how I ended up with two bowls of popcorn hidden in my desk drawer. I'd throw it away, but I'm too afraid that she might go through my trash. Perhaps I can use it in some sort of craft project? I realize this is an odd problem to have, but so is she.
Saturday, September 09, 2017
Privacy Please
I generally think of myself as a pretty friendly person. I smile at babies and dogs I see on the street, and try to keep bitchface to a minimum, even when random strangers stop me on the corner for directions to Navy Pier. (Two blocks straight ahead, then step directly in front of a passing truck.) My only enemies are Maureen Dowd and that guy from the Sprint commercials. I even make small talk with my secretary when she barges into my office unannounced to stare at some minor weather phenomenon. See? Nice.
But I do sometimes find my neighbors trying my patience. They were literally ringing the doorbell five minutes after I stopped at the house after the closing, when we hadn't even moved in yet. And they seem to monitor our behavior, making comments like "I haven't seen Ian taking the dog out as much lately" and "don't worry about changing in front of the windows, it doesn't bother us at all." Plus, they are in everybody's business -- I just passed them giving the mail carrier the third degree about her life. I mean, I'm all for being pleasant, but I don't need a close personal relationship with the person who drops of fifteen pounds of Restoration Hardware catalogs I don't want, ok? Is that so wrong?
It probably is. I need to try harder. But for now, I'm just going to eat some crackers and watch some Naked Gun movies on cable. Why did OJ ever give up on that acting career?
I generally think of myself as a pretty friendly person. I smile at babies and dogs I see on the street, and try to keep bitchface to a minimum, even when random strangers stop me on the corner for directions to Navy Pier. (Two blocks straight ahead, then step directly in front of a passing truck.) My only enemies are Maureen Dowd and that guy from the Sprint commercials. I even make small talk with my secretary when she barges into my office unannounced to stare at some minor weather phenomenon. See? Nice.
But I do sometimes find my neighbors trying my patience. They were literally ringing the doorbell five minutes after I stopped at the house after the closing, when we hadn't even moved in yet. And they seem to monitor our behavior, making comments like "I haven't seen Ian taking the dog out as much lately" and "don't worry about changing in front of the windows, it doesn't bother us at all." Plus, they are in everybody's business -- I just passed them giving the mail carrier the third degree about her life. I mean, I'm all for being pleasant, but I don't need a close personal relationship with the person who drops of fifteen pounds of Restoration Hardware catalogs I don't want, ok? Is that so wrong?
It probably is. I need to try harder. But for now, I'm just going to eat some crackers and watch some Naked Gun movies on cable. Why did OJ ever give up on that acting career?
Sunday, September 03, 2017
The Weekend
I can't tell you how exciting it is to have a long weekend, especially after all of the excitement of the last few weeks. Our original plan was to do nothing at all this weekend, but obviously that completely fell through. Yesterday I went with my sister and my nephew to a children's bowling party, which went about as could be expected. Jack didn't want to do anything except run up and down the length of the building rubbing a piece of pizza on things and then eating it. He "bowled" a total of one and a half frames, which consisted of my sister putting a bowling ball on the ground in front of him and trying fruitlessly to get him to push it. On our second try, he took off running down the actual bowling lane towards the pins and my sister screamed for me to catch him, which resulted in both of us landing face first on the floor. And in a stern reprimand from a bowling alley employee. At least that makes me feel young again.
Today I have a massage and then we're going to my friend's roof party. I have promised myself that I will only drink in moderation, so I don't wake up to a world of half-understood regrets tomorrow morning, but we'll see how that lasts. This is America, after all, and self abuse is our number one form of entertainment.
