Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Overheard in Droneland

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In honor of this site that I sometimes peruse, I give you that which was overheard by yours truly as he passed the office of a co-worker who was on the phone:

Now where were you last night?

Who'd you see?

Katie Couric said WHAT?

Sweet candy.

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Guilty!

Tomorrow is the big day. Jury duty in Manhattan. Now, I used to visit the Courthouse for my last job, so I'm familiar with the filth and homage to inefficiency that is the judicial system of lower Manhattan. I'm going to do my best to seem awkward and weird (though, at this place, I might have to do an over-the-top amazing rendition of a lunatic). My goal is to approach the claustrophobia angle. I'm going to say that I have extreme difficulty sitting still in confined spaces for any period of time. My friends suggested that I say I'm a racist or something, but I opted against that for fear of being tracked by the government or what have you. Plus, can you imagine the awkward scenario of me having to tell an African-American interrogator that I'm a racist. Yeah. Hope this works. It may, however, work out that I do not get chosen for questioning (which is a random process). Therefore, I might just come into the court, sit in a big room while others get picked around me, and then I can just go home. That's what I'm really hoping for. I will deliver a full report.

In other news, the midterm for my current class is tonight. I've had little to no time for preparation, so this should be a ball of fun. I went spinning last night at my gym to release some steam (and what appeared to be about 10 gallons of sweat). I think I was just anxious about my impending shitstorm of work. After that, I stayed up until 2AM finishing a school project that is due today and started studying for my midterm. As I mentioned in a prior post, I officially hate my teacher, so getting motivated to impress her is nearly impossible (and, yes, I often seek to please and impress others--especially where performance is clearly graded in some manner). So, I guess I'm going to have to do this for my own personal satisfaction or whatever. Heh. Man, I hate her. Every time I think about her I want to go at it (verbally) with her and reduce her to tears, exposing her intellectual defficiencies. That or put my foot in her path and watch all 300 pounds come crashing down to the floor. Either/or.

So, yeah. Back to spinning. Gina and I used to go spinning together a lot. But when she left the City (and I got a job that practically consumed my life), I stopped going. There's something in me that hates going to organized gym classes, and there's something even more pronounced in me that hates going to said classes alone. There's no buffer. People start trying to talk to you and, you know, we can't have that. But going last night was awesome. The instructor was crazy intense. He really pushed everyone--almost to the brink of death. He mentioned that the workout we put our hearts through was really only something you should do once a month. I'm planning to go back this weekend. Caution to the wind, baby. I highly recommend spinning. You can really take out your frustrations on the bike. You can, oh I don't know, imagine yourself running over a 300-pound beast of a college teacher time and time again... for example.

OK. Totally random celebrity observation. Has anyone else noticed how the teen terrors (e.g., Mary-Kate Olsen, et al) seem to walk around with Starbucks coffee in hand at all times? M-K, in specific, carries what is clearly a VENTI or, as I like to call it, the BIG GULP. Now, I've got a good hundred 70 pounds and 14 inches of height on her, and I never venture into Venti-land. What's the deal?? Is somebody looking to speed the old ticker to beyond ludicrous speed?

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M-K [on cell]: Dude, me and Ashley are here making the shee-ite piece of crap movie. But man. This coffee. It is soooo freakin' metabolism boosting.

Caller [presumably her weight control specialist]: ...

M-K: I mean yummy. Hee.

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Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Get my car, too

Just in case there were any lingering doubts as to Haylie Duff's status, there is now photographic evidence that the "Other Sister" is making her real money and is, in fact, employed as Hilary's personal assistant.

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[Thanks to Pink for the image.]

Hil to Hay: Dude. Hay. I TOLD you. Stop looking in my direction when you're on the clock. That lady back there's gunna think we're together. Gooh... And gimme back my milkshake. Sheesh.

I must say that I feel Haylie's pain. Balance a Korean Chai tea on the ol' head and add a few bags to the apparently available left hand and you might approach what it's like to be Drone. Wanna start a union, Hay? That's hot.

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Not Hot For Teacher

So it's official. I despise my current teacher in school. Aside from the fact that she's unintelligent, she's extremely difficult (personality wise) and has a tendency to be a stark raving biotch. For instance, a girl was walking behind her while a lesson was being taught and the teacher felt it necessary to berate her for such a horrific infraction: "Why don't you walk the OTHER way?! Huh?!" She really is very illogical and terribly stubborn in every way. I've tried to like her and be calm with her, but I simply will never like her and can scarcely bite my lip when I'm in her presence. This wouldn't frustrate me so much if I weren't PAYING. FOR. IT. Work is one thing. I get paid to put up with other people's shit. But in this case, I'm literally paying HER so that I can put up with HER shit. Masochism in its sickest sense: school. Gooh.

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Monday, March 14, 2005

Happy Monday

Oh, what a weekend. Friday night I invited good friend M. out to drink. M. is my friend who goes to NYU Law School. He basically did what I was planning to do before I realized that my plan was spawned by Satan and implanted in my brain. After removal of said implant, I soon realized my path. But M. is doing great in school and, I have no doubt, will be a brilliant lawyer. If his ability to drink and stay standing is any indication of his future trial capabilities, I know that he will take the judicial system by storm. Who am I kidding? He's not going to court. He'll be warming his cushion on the fiftieth floor of some building that houses only corporate lawfirms. So, yes. M. is an amazing drinker and a great person to go out with. I think I drank my weight in alcohol and spent way too much money on cabs and booze. We capped the night off by eating pizza, where a drunk girl cam up to us and told us how cute we were. I told her that I liked her earrings. "These old things?" I didn't think people actually said that anymore. But she did. Thanks for the compliment, drunk nice earring wearing drunk girl.

Saturday morning was spent squinting from my hangover headache. Had to get my butt into gear though, because I had a lot of work to do for my class projects. Did some necessary shopping for said project and then went to school to work on my project. Ran into this rather annoying Asian girl in my class who is passive aggresively competitive with me. She always comes over to what I'm working on, looks over my shoulder, and makes comments like, "What're you doing? Oooh. Well I'M doing a [more complicated version of that]." OK. Thanks for the 411. Then she'll nonchalantly (read: intentionally) slip me an example of something she's clearly been working on for days (probably bleeding her eyes out to finish), only to say something like, "I don't know. It's not great. I just sort of did it in a hurry." Uh huh. If by hurry you mean your whole life, then I believe you. I was so tempted (on Saturday) to respond, "Yeah. You're right. It's not that great. Too bad. You'll do better next time." Gooh. I don't have time to be competitive with you, Asian girl. You're pretty and clearly a hard worker. Rest you laurels on that. Not on my shoulder while I'm working. Sheesh. Aanyway. She was annoying me, so Ileft the room I was working in, pretended to leave school, and finished my work in another room. After school, I went to see C. for a quick hangout session. C. was going out for dinner on Saturday night, so we just talked and cuddled.

Recent development on the C. front. C. has recently learned that work will be forcing a trip to Los Angeles. On Tuesday morning. For an indefinite period of time. So, we've been calling eachother a lot and sort of desperately trying to meet up whenever we have a free moment. NOt sure how I feel about this. I can't believe that C. would actually fall in love with L.A. and just stay there. I'm thinking it will be three weeks max. We'll see. Maybe I can go visit and get that vacation I've been so desperately seeking.

Saturday night = sleep for Drone. I crashed, what can I say. Was still pretty hung over from Friday night. Sunday was my little procrastinate doing work dance. I ate food, watched TV, did some work, ate food, paced in my apt., work, food, sleep, TV, TV. You get the idea. Then I told myself I'd go to the gym at 5:30 to go spinning. Which I did. Man, that shit will work your body. I haven't done it in a long time, so that shock of reintroduction was intense. Very sore today, but that's awesome. Came home, finished some work, and then friend A. came over for TV and dinner. We watched the E! True Hollywood Story of Full House (aka, the Olsen Twins Story). After A. went home, I finished some more work and then crashed out.

This week should be interesting. Work's going to be a bear, I have a midterm on Wednesday and three projects due, AND I have jury duty this Thursday. Fun fun FUN.

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Wednesday, March 09, 2005

NO MORE DRAMA...

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...to quote the infinitely wise Ms. Mary J. Blige. So yesterday, my boss left work around 3PM. The snowstorm in New York was massive and insane so, rightly so, my boss decided to leave the office early. Our company was even sending out voicemail messages that we should consider leaving early, with our safety in mind. So, 5:30PM rolled around, and Drone rolled out. Not an inconceivable time to leave by any stretch of the imagination--especially since Drone's boss was gone and there was an apocolyptic storm outside.

Well being the eager beaver that I am, I decided to hit the gym right after work. I thought that a nice long workout might lift my spirits. Oh silly, Drone. Lifted spirits are for kids!

I got home at around 7:30PM and noticed that my cell phone had four messages. How popular am I, thought Drone.

Message 1 from Female Co-worker 1 (left at ~5:45PM): Drone, of course the minute you left BOSS called and asked for you. So I told him you had "stepped out." Could you call him on his cell?

Why on Earth did my co-worker say that I had stepped out, you ask? I have no idea. I guess she thought that I'd appreciate her attempt to cover for my leaving at 5:30PM!! I never asked her to do this and would have been fine with her just saying that Drone had gone home for the day. I know that my boss would have been OK with it.

Message 2 from Female Co-worker 2 (left at ~6:30): Drone, I know Female Co-worker 1 already called you, but BOSS just called back and asked if he could speak with you again. I told him you stepped out. Please call him on his cell as soon as you get this.

WTF??! When did I ever ask anyone to tell anyone that I had stepped out?! I just left for the day, people. Tell the truth! But, I see that now female co-worker 2 was backing up the story of female co-worker 1. But come on. Unecessary drama people!

Message 3 from Female Co-worker 2 (left at ~7): Drone, sorry to call again but please call BOSS on his cell. Thanks. His number is blah blah blah.

OK, don't get all snippy on me. I love you and all, female co-worker 2, but you two created this problem for yourselves and now for me. As for BOSS'S cell phone number? Thanks, but I have that shit, for better or for worse, on my brain 24/7. I have nightmares that revolve entirely around that number. I might forget to pay my rent, but I will not under any circumstances forget his number. Leaving it on my voicemail doesn't make me call him back any quicker. Thanks.

Message 4 from Male Co-worker 1 (left at ~7:30): Drone, so Female co-workers 1 and 2 both for some reason told BOSS that you had stepped out. I don't know why. But by now he for sure knows that you've gone home. He's going to think that we all tried to pull a fast one over on him, so we need to talk to see what we'll say to lessen the blow. Call me on my cell when you get this.

Oh. Dear. Lord. It's amazing how quickly you can go from a post-gym high and hungry to depressed and nauseated. So I called male co-worker and, after saying WTF many times, explained that the story is: 'I left work (as usual), said good-bye to male co-worker without saying good-bye to female co-workers (because they were doing work in another part of the building at the time I left). Therefore, female co-workers didn't see me at my desk and assumed I stepped out. So, in the end, only male co-worker knew I had gone home for the day.'

Again, this was all so unecessary and avoidable. I called BOSS at home and left him a message letting him know that I had left for the day and had not, in fact, stepped out. I explained that female co-workers 1 and 2 were simply confused. Gooh.

While I really do love Female Co-worker 1, she created this whole thing. I didn't need or ask anyone to cover for me leaving at a reasonable hour. Jeezle. Boss seemed AOK today, but I had a few nightmares last night and was unable to eat well. Moral of the story is: don't do anyone favors unless they ask for it. Shit can come from thin air. Don't go looking for it. Oh boy.

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Tuesday, March 08, 2005

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Yeah. That about sums it up. You guys. Y'all. Can I call you y'all? No? Yeah, you're right. Guys.

Work has been overwhelming. Period. I have had so much to do lately that I've come within an inch of simply crumbling under the proverbial weight of it all. School is fun, but I can't devote myself to being the perfectionist that I want to be. And I hate that. I now have three rather large, time consuming projects due next week. None of which I've even started. Two are due next Monday while the remaining project is due next Wednesday. Basically, I'll have to do it all this Saturday. I can do it, but it will be painful. Gooh. Saturdays are usually my favorite 'be a lazy shit' days. Damn it! I hate procrastinating and putting stuff off. I always have. But this situation has been simply unavoidable. On a positive note, I faxed all my paperwork to my accountant this morning. So I've gotten the ball rolling on the ol' April 15 deadline. I better get a fatass refund.

My personal life? Eh. It's OK. No. Let's be honest. It's pretty much in shambles. I'm now intermittently dating my 'used to be fulltime, live-in significant other.' As part of this arrangement, I am also persuing other dates. Have had a few, but whatever. Neither here nor there about any of them. My bank account is the thing that bothers me the most. Like that inflatable punch clown that always returns to its standing position, my bank account never 'falls over.' But it also never makes any progress. It just diminishes to its lowest point (after I pay my rent) and rises to its highest point (usually mid-month when I get paid), only to repeat ad nauseum. Grr.

Perhaps worst of all, my Internet and email at work is so freakin' wrong. It's just wrong. Slow. Error messages galore. I can't tell if it's Hotmail or it's my server. Frankly, I don't care. I just want it to work. E-mails I send are either delayed or never sent at all. So my mother and father basically think I'm dead. Sorry to any of my friends that have noticed my seemingly incommunicative nature as of late. It's not my fault I promise.

So, I now find myself wishing upon a star that my accountant gets me a huge refund with which I can bankroll a vacation out of this City for a while. Did I mention that it was 50 degrees yesterday and that now it's snowing? Oh yeah: one more thing. Jury Duty Countdown: 9 days to go. Sweet candy.

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Monday, March 07, 2005

Weekend Recap

As always, the friggin' weekend went by way too fast. The two things that I really needed to get done? One: call my accountant to prep him for my tax hoo ha. Two: complete two class projects due next Monday. Did I do either? Nope. Hurray for procrastination! It's so ridiculous how hard I work to make my boss's life perfectly organized and placed while my own life falls to pieces. Gooh.

So Friday night I left work with two coworkers. The three of us went to a bar downtown where coworker #1's roommate works as a bartender/waitress. So, free drinks. This is the first time I've hung out with work peeps in an out of work setting. It was really fun. The three of us got pretty drunk and spewed all of our frustrations about work and our respective bosses. A true bonding moment. I was drunk by 8PM. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. After that, I had a dinner date.

Being back in the dating scene is not my favorite thing in the world, but it's not the worst thing that can happen either. Luckily I'm not a mutant, so getting a date isn't too difficult. The only thing is, dating (always) makes me realize something about myself: I'm one of thise guys who wants to find and stay with the one true thing. 'Screwing around' and 'having fun' is great and all, but I'd prefer to have and hold onto the greatest thing rather than hopping from one OK thing to the next. Dates usually expose me to OK things. Why is being in love so much harder that being in LIKE? Aaaanyway. The date was good. A 7 out of 10, if you will. Had a good meal that was right up my alley. Oh yeah, did I mention that I was way drunk for our 9PM dinner date? I guess you could have figured that out. Luckily for me (and my date), I get really smiley, talkative and boisterous when I'm boozed. So, I was the shiniest, sparkliest, and most outgoign version of myself. Worked to my advantage really.

It was a pretty cold night, so said date and I walked for a brief while before we ducked into a diner for dessert. My drunken munchies kicked in, so I sucked down a vanilla egg cream and scarfed half a huge piece of carrot cake. THEN, date and I went to a bar where we had one more drink. Then I cut myself off and started the good night ritual. Before I made sure the date was safely in a cab back home, we made out on the street. Classy. We were that couple that I usually roll my eyes at. Whatever. I was drunk, man.

Saturday consisted of going to the gym and watching TV. Period. Saturday night, C. and I went to see a Brazilian dance troupe do their thing at the JOYCE theater. Was very entertaining. Those dancers are friggin' in shape. Made me want to run to the gym. C. and I were both really tired, but that didn't prevent us from getting hot under the respective collars. So that was my Saturday night. Sunday consisted of sleeping until 2PM, going to the gym, and watching TV. Period. Then friend A. came over to watch some mindless entertainment until about midnight. My boss called me on my cell phone Sunday night to tell me that he WAS going into work on Monday (despite telling me on Friday that he'd be out). When I saw his name on my caller ID, I almost had a heart attack. Can there be anything worse than your boss callign you during the weekend on your cell? Let me know when you discover something that fits the bill. Oh well. That's all he had to say, so it's cool.

Monday morning. Oh, Monday morning. I cannot tell you how hard it was to get out of bed this morning. I have an overgrown beard that I have refuse to shave for about 5 days. It's a Catch-22, really. The longer it gets, the more I need to shave it (i.e., I don't want to end up looking like homeless Brad); however, the longer it gets, the harder it is to shave and the longer it takes. Ergo, it requires more motivation and time to accomplish this task. So yeah. I'm bearded and I'm wearing a knit cap because I refuse to do my hair. I basically rolled around in bed this morning until I absolutely HAD to leave. I approached my danger time (i.e., the time past which I cannot leave the house because I'll be grievously late for work), then sprinted out of the apartment with about 2 seconds to get ready. I've gotten one compliment on how I look in my knit cap, so I think I'll play off this homeless chic look as an intentional change of pace. Yeah. Class tonight should be fun. Seeing as how I feel like I'm already running on fumes.

Speaking of which, I need a vacation. It seems like a budgillion years since I went to Miami with C., even though it was for Christmas. I just need sun and fun for a week. I wish I could do that. I really have these uncontrollable fantasies of hopping on a plane to LA and just chilling. I wish that I could do that so badly. Anyone interested in contributing to the Drone sanity fund can feel free to inquire via the comments section.

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Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Just one them days, (that a [Drone] goes through)...

It's just one of them days,
When I wanna have a lunch break.
Its just one of them days,
When I gotta take 5 to crap.
It's just one of them days,
Don't take it personal.

I just wanna be all alone,
and you think I treat you wrong.

I wanna take some time out to think things through.
I know it always feels like I'm returning your clothes
but I get you ice cream too.
So understand that I'm only overworked,
You're the only one I serve.
So have no thought that i want to quit
And Robo trust me please.

It's just one of those days that a Drone goes through
When I'm angry inside,
Would love to take it out on you.
Just one of them things.
OK, take it personal.
I just wanna be all alone.
And you know you treat me wrong.
Don't make me return,
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby.
Don't make me return stuff.

I sit and think about everything I do,
And I find myself in misery and that ain't cool.
Hey now I really wanna be with you the whole way through.
But the way you make me feel inside leaves me confused.
As I swing back mood to mood it's all because of you.
I never want you to be insecure,
So won't you understand that I'm only in pain,
you're the only boss I have.
I be there for you when you need me man
so Robo don't you leave.

It's just one of those days
For expense reports
When I'm angry inside,
Don't wanna get a salad for you.
It's just one of them things
Please take it personal.
I just wanna be all alone
And I know you treat Drone wrong.
It's just one of those days
That a Drone goes through
When I'm angry inside,
I just wanna curl up into the fetal position and cry

It's just one of them things
Yes, take it personal.
I just wanna be all alone
And I'm going out of my gourd.
Time to take it personal
Psycho, psycho, psycho, pyscho.
Don't make me take it back to the store.
Without a receipt

It's just one of those days
Can't return one more damn thing
It's just one of those days.
That a Drone goes through
When I'm angry inside,
Wish I could take it out on you.
It's just one of them things
Is it 10PM yet? (So I can go home!)
I just wanna be all alone
And I know you treat me wrong.
Please don't demand one more thing (repeat)

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Drone, meet Joan.

My morning commute was made all the more interesting this morning by a star sighting (smushing, more appropriately). As usual, the subway platform was packed, and I had to make the decision between the packed express train and the not-so-packed local (read: slow ass) train. When I spotted Joan Allen getting onto the express I thought, 'OK. I'll take the express.' We both smushed onto the train and pressed right up against eachother.

For about ten minutes, she and I were practically face to face. She looked very distinctive but was wearing sunglasses (the red herring that a celebrity is underneath). Then I wondered what the hell a huge celebrity like Joan Allen is doing taking the subway at rush hour (8AM). She got off at Times Square, so I'm guessing she's doing a movie or play. Checking out her latest production online, maybe the "working class housewives" escape their New York City husbands for Ireland? Man, that plot sounds... straight to DVD. But what do I know?

Anyway, she was amazing in this movie. I now have a newfound respect for (some) celebrities. Being a good actress: A. Riding the morning wave of cattle to make it to the set: A+.

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Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Pot, meet Kettle.

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Hi. I'm Johnny Depp. Did you know that I'm a freak? Acting is the worst freaking job in the world. I hate the Oscars. I hate that I make millions of dollars for being adored. All us actors are shallow heartless fools. Did I mention that I'm a freak?? Hey, so how'd you like the patchy facial hair I sported for the Oscars the other night? How 'bout my gold teeth? I hate how all these actors just wanna be noticed. Love me. Notice me. Compensate for my inadequacies, they're all silently screaming. Not me, man. How did you like my girlfriend slash wife slash babymama's vampiress outfit the other night? Wasn't that fire engine red lipstick the shit? Man, all these brainless actors just wanna be loved. I'm telling my children to run the other way if ever they have the opportunity to act. Hey, did you know I own my own island. It's so fuckin' avant-garde. I'm living like a pirate. Which incidentally I portray in my blockbuster Hollywood sellout sequel. With Orlando Bloom. Man, aren't these actors such TOOLS? Such media attention hungry bloodsuckers. All stopping to talk to these stupid magazine TV show host clowns, selling their latest prostitution. Selling their totally contrived images and visages. Right along with their souls, man. I wish that people would just leave me alone and let me, like, BE, man. Hey, where are you going, damn it? Take my picture! Get back here. I'm strange. I'm weird. I have a gold tooth. I'm different. I nonchalantly let pieces of my hair fall in my face! I wear weird hats at inappropriate times!! Hey!!!

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