Purchase order requisitions. Everyone grumbles, everyone
bitches, and I do agree that the process is not particularly kaizen-friendly
(or TOC-friendly if you prefer Jonah to Six Sigma), but there is an orderliness
to it that soothes me. Go into the computer system, place a requisition with
all your needs, and the PO department will take the information you selected,
generate a PO that is so detailed that no one can possibly say they didn't
understand what you wanted the money for, and voilà, a check gets mailed
out on your behalf.
ABBA. I find the concept of their music incredibly
distasteful, but the execution is so flawless, the harmonies so sublime, I'm
repulsed by my own self for grooving to it, yet cannot help myself.
Frozen fish sticks. Not the stick-shaped breaded crunchy
kind, though. The batter-dipped triangular things. Yes, I know I've never
seen triangular fish in nature and I don't bloody care. Frozen fish sticks,
crinkly fries, and spinach, because the
Mom says you have to have a green vegetable. And no, I don't know why
I don't like the stick-shaped breaded crunchy ones. If you're a psychologist,
feel free to analyze me. Just bear in mind that if I'm eating frozen fish
sticks at all, it's probably because I can better afford them than fresh fish,
so you're not going to make any money trying to bill me. Write your paper
and be grateful you got that much out of it.
Mad Max. I don't want anything Mel Gibson-related after,
say, What a Woman Wants, which was all kinds of suck, personal prejudices
(mine and his) aside. But Mel plus apocalypse was just plain fun to watch.
My fingernails. They were supposed to be celestial and
mystical, but they came out sort of patriotic instead. Think of the blue field
on the U.S. flag, and you've got the idea. But they're cute.
Secondhand smoke. I quit. I'm supposed to hate smoking,
smokers, the smell on my clothes, the fact that others are "hurting my
lungs against my will" ... I hate none of these things. I even like hanging
out in smoky bars, when I can find one over which the bureaucracy hasn't poured a bucket of water yet. So there.
The news. I know they're withholding information, lying engaging
in disinformation in certain cases, and that nothing is truly credible in
this day and age. But I can't quit wanting to know what's going on in the
world, even if it means that what I and everyone else has been told is inaccurate.
I don't like mysteries unless there's a solution. Even if I'm pretty sure
it's a lie, I'll accept closure in any form, as long as it makes sense and
doesn't just deepen the mystery.
Arial Rounded MT Bold. It's still
the Suck, but a lot less ubiquitous than Comic Sans.
Lingo. I find Chuck Woolery pathetic in his old
flirty-bass-fishing-good-ol'-boyish-handsome-smarminess. I find Shandi dippy
in her kissassery of the Chuck and her general disservice to intelligent blondes
everywhere. But if you can ignore their obnoxious banter and watch the game,
it's a damned good word game: fun, fast-paced, and mind-enriching.
drinking: coffee
listening to: nothing
earbird: that wretched office depot commercial with the hand. whoa office depot whoa, let us give you a handjob etc. etc.
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