O Pointy Birds, O pointy pointy birds

[itsallovernow]

Mostly, this is a chance to show off my SACoC icon number 2. Thank the lovely and talented kernezelda for the effort. S. asked my why I just didn't learn to use Photoshop myself. I said I'd much rather have other talented people, who enjoy the process, do it for me. That way, I know that the end product will be good and I'll be satisfied:) S. replied that I was definitely qualified for middle management.

I do actually know how to use Photoshop, in much the same way that I know how to use my sewing machine. That does not mean that I find either process enjoyable, but I love the efforts of others.

My boss is gone for a week while she moves, so I am left in the office with my other boss and our second writer. I adore them both, but as my dad often says, they can't find their ass with both hands. I deal with this Y-chromosome blindness at home, and so it gets a little old at work.

I try to resist telling them where things are, because I don't mysteriously move or hide the office supplies, but everything is in my office and they root around in the closet like pigs hunting truffles and it makes me crazy. So, like at home, I give in and tell them where the things are. If they did more than stare mindlessly into the closet, then pick things up, put them down, and then pick them up again, I might have more sympathy. Ah, at least it's a pleasure to only have to put up with petty annoyances. I do realize that I have very little to complain about, employment wise.

Because I'm renewing my love affair with L.A. Story, I watched it this weekend and there are just moments that make me absurdly happy. When Steve Martin is trying to program the phone, and says "Dial Mom" and it rings to Dominoes Pizza, I just crack up everytime. Too much exposure to people who can't resist technogadgets that never work quite right.

Does it bother anyone else that the Dominoes people have your name and phone number and what you frequently ordered on the screen when you call?

Comments

[lomer.livejournal.com]

I think Papa John's also has this feature because whenever I call them and state my name, they automatically ramble off my telephone number at me and ask if I still want the small cheese and mushroom pizza... because I don't think I have ever called Papa John's and NOT ordered a small cheese and mushroom pizza...

[kernezelda]

They do that at Steak-Out locally - they can rattle off what floor I'm on and what the street address is for delivery.

Fortunately, I don't have anything to do with office supplies for my floor, and my co-workers are self-sufficient when it comes to foraging. Or else they just ask me to requisition whatever they need without doing a long involved search first.

I'm glad you like the icon. I like all the icons I've made, and it's a pleasure to share them.

Re:

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

It's not just the office supplies, it's everything. Where's my pen, where's the kleenex, why doesn't the postage meter work, what happens if I unplug this, how do I forward a call, why won't my computer work, someone called you but I didn't write down their name, I want tea but I don't know how to make it (this from the Englishman. I know he's lying:) Know what my job title is? Lead Writer. Not substitute wife/mother:)

[kernezelda]

Some guys never get over the need for a mother. It's like a law of nature.

Re:

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

It's oh so true. My roommate was the only boy in a very traditional midwestern family until he was 10. He had three older sisters, and M. was doted upon, then they had another boy. M. had never done laundry until he moved to L.A., let alone cleaned up after himself or did the dishes. His dream woman is one who will bring him a sandwich on demand.

eek.

[raithen.livejournal.com]

Some mothers and sisters really do their sons/brothers a disservice. Because these boys will eventually be on their own. And meet women like us. And THEN what will they do. ;).

Re: eek.

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

Hee Hee, in this case, fight a lot:) He's funny. The laundry thing was a no brainer (he does his laundry all the time and irons a hell of a lot more than i do), but the dishes and the basics of clean - not just hiding the crap - are a constant struggle. I bitch about him a lot, but he's one of my best friends and he really has tried over the past five years to be better. But it has been an uphill battle. I've had boyfriends who were the same way and it's just baffling, it's like it never occurred to their mothers or siblings that they would one day leave the house:)