badness, humor, work

Haiku distraction: Motivational speaker

At an Office Job meeting some months ago, the invited speaker was a college football coach (for some reason).  He went to the podium and spoke enthusiastically (and endlessly) about the football players and so on, none of which had to do with the parents or their kids.  And yet on he went, giving me material to haiku about.

 

Facebones: the ultimate motivational speaker

Facebones: the ultimate motivational speaker

He’s got that gung-ho
attitude.  He’s a winner.
Euthanize him, please.

Coaches are basically motivational speakers with hundreds of sports plays smashed into their heads.

Coach Buck Bobby-Joe
Johnson has a story for
everything today.

“Lemme tell you about this one kid,” he said many, many times.  None of the stories were pertinent to the meeting’s purpose or its participants in any way.  But football is huge, and the players are mini-celebrities, so he had a pretty captive audience.

He says it’s “college
football, not football college.”
Why’s he our speaker?

Needless to say, I was unimpressed with his presentation, nor am I particularly enamored of any celebrity athlete-types.

For a football coach,
he sure is enthused about
education.  Right?

He kept emphasizing the football players’ scholarly pursuits, as if that’s why any of them attend college (or that anyone in the room gave a shit).

pointless pointless pointless

pointless pointless pointless

Then someone else stood up to speak, as if that’s what we needed: more monologuing.

This guy’s got a mouth
on him.  The crowd loves him.  These
parents are sold now.

This guy had started his own email/blog thingie about college sports, and could not stop talking even though he kept saying, “I’ve been speaking too long,” and “I said I was going to keep it short, and I’ll finish soon.”  Still, the crowd was with him, so he had no reason to shut up.

I’d had enough of listening to white men wax poetical about their hard-on for football.  It was time for dessert.

The vanilla cake
was apparently made by
Hello Kitty.  Yum!

The cake had lace and pink shit all over it.  I couldn’t figure out what was edible and what was decoration.  I think the point was to kill us with sweetness in more ways than one.

 

every attendee at the meeting resembled this guy

every attendee at the meeting resembled this guy

“The most precious gifts
are those unwrapped by the heart.”
Christ, what does that mean?

The time then came for the parents to endlessly thank each other for all their endless giving and “hard work.”  The speeches were the worst part.

So many awards!
How thankful can a group of
volunteers be?  Guh.

What a monumental waste of time.  So much money spent on gifts and certificates and crap, I could not believe the self-congratulatory nonsense my coworkers and I witnessed in just three long hours.  I felt like shouting, “Feed some homeless people, you rich, white bastards!”

On an unrelated note, my search for Facebones pulled up this “Jem” (pun very much intended).

killer

killer

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goodness, life

Roommate burfdah!

Yesterday was Teacher Roommate’s birthday, the first we’ve celebrated since we started living together in September, so I went to some lengths to make it special.  For example, I made a cake.  I haven’t baked a cake in a decade, so this is some serious shit.  It was red velvet with cream cheese flavored icing, and fantastic striped candles.  Delicious.

Diminutive Roommate and I got her a gift certificate to her favorite sandwich place in the Marina, Mendocino Farms (which I call Fancypants Farms, due to the fancy sammiches they make).  They sell them in $10 increments, so we got five of them.  I wrote little limericks on the back of them to guide her on a scavenger hunt for the next one.  So fun!  She was zooming around the apartment figuring them out.  Here they are!

DRINK ME

If this heart could beat,
it would only beat hot,
though in truth it’s been empty
more often than not.

Years ago, Teacher Roommate made a tea pot in the shape of an anatomically correct heart.  It’s a little horrifying, and totally awesome.  It sits on our window sill in the kitchen above the sink.

Churning and spinning
and then with a MEEP!
It acts as a cooler,
our lager to keep.

Our washer/dryer gives off the loudest, most arresting honk… it’s just awful.  We hadn’t yet sold our old washer/dryer by our housewarming, so instead of being embarrassed by it, we hung Xmas lights all over it, threw a trash bag into it, and used it as a cooler for the beer.  When people came in, we would say, “Hey, welcome!  Shoes go over there, beer is in the washing machine, snacks are in the kitchen.”  It was quite the hit.

Ring and book
and skull and spear!
Deliciously spooky,
the gift you find here…

Obviously this was a reference to Betrayal at House on the Hill, our favorite board game of all time.  If you haven’t played it, buy it and make some friends.  It’s the best.

"yes, we're lesbians"

Communist woman are a
hard-working bunch,
measuring food for our
dinner and lunch.

Teacher Roommate has these Russian nesting dolls that are actually white, plastic measuring cups.  They’re super cute; we keep them on a shelf above the stove.

A portal to worlds in the
stars and beyond;
technology belonging to
whom we are fond.

This was the hardest one for her; it was Diminutive Roommate’s laptop, which we have hooked up to the TV.  All we do is watch Star Trek: The Next Generation.  It’s fantastic.

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