Saturday, April 28, 2007

You can’t be too careful about what you say. Mo’ money mo’ problems.

We had a sexual harassment prevention training yesterday at our company meeting. I appreciate the effort, really. I know that sexual harassment is a serious thing and we should all be aware of what we can do to not make other people uncomfortable in the workplace.

But what happens when the sexual harassment session is uncomfortable and awkward? What happens when people (me) laugh at things like super-serious people saying things like "a lot of people will leave here and laugh about what we talk about today, but sexual harassment is a VERY serious thing and is NOT a laughing matter?" She was right. See! Do these people look like they're having a good time with sexual harassment?

There were two guys and two girls who were giving this presentation

(Note: These insurance guys didn't say or do ANYTHING but internally judge those of us dudes who were making eye contact with the girls who were presenting. I think they were documenting every time they saw our glance drop from eye level. Is there a report on this? I could seriously feel them scalding me with their eyes. I felt like I couldn't look up from my pop quiz. I can't be certain of this however, because I was too busy checking the girls out.)

The presentation invited us to watch a foray of movie clips of movie star bosses asking their movie star employees out on movie star dates. We then had to take a movie quiz to tell our instructors if we had just witnessed sexual harassment. I got every answer right. I'm sooooo un-harassing sexually.

It also included a couple of clips from The Office like this interaction:

Michael: You know what? I love Phyllis. You know what else? I think she is gorgeous. I think she is an incredibly, incredibly attractive person. Come here, gimme a kiss…c'mon!
Phyllis: Michael, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to report you to HR…
Michael: I’m not worried! You know what? The only thing I am worried about? Getting a boner.

Also, the best part was when they showed the staple video during times like these. The video showed a variety of characters that looked like this and this. A narrator describes the difference between sexual harassment and consensual harassment (does that qualify as "harassment," in such a case?) as they show a guy on the phone with his disgruntled honey becoming outraged that he's calling her. She begins to fly off the handle.

He then says "C'mon baby, you know I like it slow." So it's clear this couple has been here before. She scrunches her face like Chucky and hangs up on him (i think...I can't be sure because I was looking at my shoes. Things like this embarrass me for some reason.)

The witch should have known not to blow up at him! "Hey baby, remember last time I told you I liked it slow?"

Really. You expect me to take this seriously and not laugh? You expect me to not immediately walk out of the room after this session and say "hey baby, you know I like it slow," to every single fellow employee the remainder of the day? That's asking a lot. Too much, in fact, because that is precisely what I did. It never got old.

From now on, every time someone becomes flustered or unreasonably loud, I'm just going to gently remind them that I like it slow. Thanks sexual harassment prevention training! At least I learned one thing: that I need to stop doing things like this at work. All good things must come to an end, I suppose.

I did learn my guest/client relationship skills from the best, as shown below.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Nailer? I hardly even know her!

The time has come. After enduring a season that would make the most loyal of fans bludgeon themselves in the head with a wine bottle, it is time to spend the next 6-8 weeks doing absolutely nothing but watch games, accompanied by games. My team will not be partaking in this year's playoffs or lottery, therefore not making major changes to surround Mr. O'neal with quality talent-- probably forcing themselves to trade their only asset that doesn't make the paying fans (what is left of them) feel like we've got front row seats to basketball's version of The Longest Yard. It seems the team is good enough to not get a helpful draft pick for the future, but terrible enough to where season ticket holders received their sealed loogie in the mail from Larry Bird (filmed at Sears) and Reggie Miller (filmed at Chuckie Cheese) this week, saying "thanks, for supporting the epitome of mediocrity."

In related news, I'm a bit nervous about the Colts' 2007-08 schedule. You know it could be a tough year when 75% of your defense has skipped town for more money, and you consider Kansas City a "break," while you battle it out with teams that significantly got better in the offseason/end of last season, while you of course don't have the money/cap space to improve on much at all. At least we have this guy: Looks like we're in good hands.

I kind of recently started performing in a band. When I say "performing," I mean, I'd be willing to bet we'll never play outside of Andy's living room for an audience of more than a single high-school kid scratching himself, waiting for weekly Halo tourney to begin. I guess we've committed ourselves to straight up cover songs...yikes. But I'm totally behind it if we can talk this guy into joining. Please, let's make this happen.

I saw a movie tonight at the movie theater. I went in with a broken heart-sized chip on my shoulder because it stars this guy. For those who don't know, he's doin it with this girl. See. I've been clear in past entries on how I feel about her, so everytime he was on screen, I had flashbacks of this and prayed that some sort of painful death or life thwarting destitution would pay his character a visit.

With no such luck, I sat there and was entertained for a solid 2 hours. It was a pretty decent movie that kept me thinking. However, the viewing experience was sorely inhibited when the sound and picture jumped. The sound was shaky to say the least. At parts it either sounded like people were under water, or they were about to cry and their voices were violently shaking. And the visual images flickered on the theater's silver screen; so much so to prompt Jordan to ask, "what's wrong with the T.V.?"

Thursday, April 12, 2007

What you starin at? I'm not a mirror!

Now that MTV's The Hills is over for the season, and we eagerly and admirably anticipate the release of this, I have taken the shameless dive into the new lineup of mindless television. I'm all hot and bothered by The Adventures of Hollyhood on Thursday nights at 10:00. This Three 6 Mafia spectacle tells the precious tales of Juicy J, DJ Paul, Project Pat, Big Triece and Computer as they have recently moved to California from Memphis. It chronicles everything you'd expect in a Three 6 Mafia reality TV show. Everything from Scarface t-shirts, to Big Triece peeing in Jennifer Love Hewitt's yard, to Computer and Big Triece "lookin like a coupla flies trapped in a #%@& damn jar," when they perform their attempt at creating a rap song around the hook "Kill Yourself." This show was an unexpected, yet pleasant surprise to say the least. I for one, hope this show will stand firm alongside this pleasurable gem for an age.

(Note: I wasn't planning on blogging about the brilliance of MTV programming, but I just couldn't contain myself.)

Speaking of brilliance and making something important of my life, I am proud to say that I spent a good two hours on this website last night. I was bossing models in lingerie around, and watching them listen to my every word. Sure, there were times when they let me know that my instructions were a little out of line and a little "forward," but in the end, we created a beautiful piece of billboard art together. The technology here is fabulous as it allows drooling users to believe that they're really asking models to audition in select poses in order to make a billboard and, eventually send it to friends so they can make a pretty much identical piece of artwork. Regardless, I think the technology here is pretty fascinating and I'm not sure what Sloggi is, but they have a friend for life in yours truly.

I've come to a crossroads in my life. I never thought the day would come when my baby sister would be my premium resource for access to an entire culture of women. But my friends, the day has come. She is setting me up on a blind date with her instructor from cosmetology school. I talked to this person for a total of three minutes and thirty one seconds. Here is what I know before breaching a scenario that is somewhat uncharted territory for me:

First, she enjoys this show, but was disappointed last night because she rushed home after working an 11 hour day to find a rerun episode (note: this may be why we only talked for 3:31. Either she was in a tired-non talkative-my show wasn't on and I'm going to bed now- mood, or I'm too much of a schmo to drive conversation...if the latter turns our to be the case, I can't help but believe she'll feel like going on a date with me leaves something to be desired.)

Second, she has one of those sexy raspy voices, like the ones people get when it's really late at night, only I think she has it all the time because her answering machine proclaimed a consistent tone with the angelic hum I was speaking with.

I know that my sis told me that this girl thinks she's funnier than me. Well she's got another thing comin for a couple of reasons: 1) I find myself absolutely jocular and uproarious. 2) I am in no way chauvinistic, however in my experience, I have found the well of funny women has all but dried up. So I'm expecting monumental things here.

I know that I chose a classic date to go on a date. Must mean good things to come!

Oh and I know that I just called her on accident. Talk about being smooth. I got up to let my dog out (and because this laptop has burned a hole through my pants and created a sheen of sweat on my scrotum....sorry, inappropriate I know) and I set this computer on the cellphone to my immediate left.

The computer apparently pressed the right buttons to get to my "recently called" list, and proceeded to dial her number...and then proceeded to hang, I realize that this sounds like a creepy stalker story, but I swear that I am sweating profusely because of how embarrassed I currently am.* Everything was going so well, and I was feeling so good and calm about this situation until now...and my friend Adrienne made things better by telling me "that'll totally suck when you try to explain it to her - it'll just sound like an excuse," thanks friend.
*read above as to why I am really sweating.

OK last thing then I'm leaving. For those of you (who am I kidding?, no one reads this!) who haven't seen this yet, you probably know my love for Fergie (she rests at number 3 on my list of "People who, if they met me, would fall madly in love with me and my charm," right behind Rachel (1) and the previously mentioned Lauren (2) and right ahead of Jess (4).) You probably know that if you're on the my "list," I'll happily watch/listen to anything you produce visually or audibly, good or bad. Needless to say, Fergie is on the list. This wretched tramp is not. She will never be. But she still did a fabulous job at jabbing the Sweet Black Eyed Pea in her own rendition of the hit single "My Humps." Take a won't be disappointed.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Once, Twice, Three times an impressionable, adolescent, pubescent girl

They say that doing something once can be an accident. If it happens twice, it can be considered a coincidence, but it typically takes something happening three times in order for it to be a trend. I'm one strike away from beginning a terrible trend in my own life. Actually it's not that terrible, it's just a little weird and something I'd rather not take pride in and gloat about. I will tell the story of strike two:

I was buying shoes at a shoe store. I was minding my own business. I was in need of a durable pair of thong sandals. After spending about an hour deciding between a pair of $55 tan leather thong flip flops and a pair of $25 tan leather thong flip flops, I hesitantly chose the latter. Turns out, a friendly lady employee of said shoe store noticed that I was buying these shoes and politely made shy eyes at me a few times when I was waiting to purchase my flip-flops and be on my way. She traveled back and forth between counter and her friend (who was watching from a distant rack of women's shoes), and finally settled in behind the counter with a writing utensil and a torn receipt.

She furiously wrote something down, and slipped it in my shoe box (side note: the people I've told this story to look at me like a I'm a crazy person when I tell them that I expected this little note to be some sort of coupon for a future purchase, or invitation to a future event at the store, but this thought actually did cross my mind, and I don't apologize for it; it's my story and I can think what I want.) After she walked away and I was shuffling my change into my pockets, we caught each other's eye one final time and I left the building. I did not, however, leave the premises. I sat in my car and looked inside my box. Sure enough there was a phone number and a woman's name residing on my $25 sandals. Now, instead of going on my merry way, I decided I'd take a shot of pimp juice and go back inside the store to look for this woman (note: I went back inside, but I did NOT, repeat did NOT have an effective plan in tact for success.) I immediately found this girl, and immediately start choking all over my words.

I started the conversation by saying "uh, I think you put your number in my box" (as I said "number," I pulled a piece of paper that I thought was the number, however, it was in fact, a one dollar bill.) Needless to say, she invited me to call her sometime later that week. Great!

So fast forward a few days later, and I did call her. Turns out, before what seemed like it could have been a great, engaging conversation (I'm sure), for some reason, I asked this woman her age. 18. She's 18. I'm 24. Awesome (or the exact opposite, please excuse me while i take a bath with a running hair dryer.) Although not illegal, many people still consider that a "weird/wrong/gross/creepy/guy taking advantage of an impressionable mind" type of situation. So this leads me to my introductory paragraph...

This is not the first time this has happened. This is rather, the 2nd time something like this has happened with a girl that is a good six years younger than me. One more time, and I will start gaining a reputation for things like this. I will not give excuses as to why this happened, because the last thing I need to start saying is "dude, she didn't look 18, she looked 25," (she does.)

I know people that have "dated" people that are significantly younger than them, and it appears I'm well on my way to being one of them.

OK a few quick links before leaving:

I saw the following video last week, and everyone I talked to that had seen it (except my friend Breezy, which shouldn't discourage anyone from watching the video below, because her idea of humor is repeatedly, ruthlessly and publicly humiliating someone over something that she thinks she can do living and working and trying to create a career for oneself) thought it was funny and hilarious and hysterical and ok...

Next is a story out of Mexico City. Imagine what these people thought. Can you imagine being the guy who had to go to work that day, telling his coworkers that he was attacked by this guy? What is his self esteem like? I'm gonna need a follow up story on this. I'm gonna need to know the mental state of this attackee. Let's get someone from USA Today on this please. If he's feeling a little lonely and dejected by society in his shame, I know a great shoe sales-girl that we should set him up with.