"For I Am A Pirate King"

That is to say, when it comes to the Cube Farm - I am considered a bit of a rogue. Less of the pillaging and plundering and more of the covert operations that, in fact, get real work done.

That is to say, I occasionally ignore the rules.

The rules at the Farm are great in number. We have manuals and work instructions and policies and, yes, procedures. We love us a good policy and procedure. And while I am all for living in an orderly society. I don't think I need a rule about how many pictures to post in my cubicle, nor how fast I should walk in the hallway (do not get me started on that one....well, tonight anyway).

So, I've gone a little Gilbert & Sullivan and gotten together some mateys of a similar ilk. We call ourselves "sanctioned pirates". That is to say, we are given some mighty goals and objectives and when no one's looking - we actually achieve them. I promise you - if I had to follow the rules, it would take me a whole day to log onto my computer.

And I'll tell you this - it feels good to be a pirate. No, I'll never have jewels and gold in a giant chest, and one day I shouldn't be surprised if they make me walk the plank. But today, I can hold my head high (well, as high as is allowed in the Farm) and know that sometimes rogue is the only way to go. And anyone who has felt the wind on their face out on the open seas of Corporate America will tell you - it's good to be a pirate.


For a little on my favorite Corporate Pirate, visit Captain Steve Crescenzo...

Skeletons in the Cupboard

I like the way the Brits put it better. Doesn't cupboard just sound better than closet? Anyway, I was actually cleaning out some cupboards and found "The Bag".

The Bag has existed in many shapes and forms over my life, but currently resides in the furthest shelf in my big closet, as a brown Hardings sack. The form which it has taken is less important than what it holds.

The Bag currently holds a few random items, well, not really random. They are all gifts from The Amazing Douchebag.

What? Men can name their penises but I can't name an ex-boyfriend?

NOTE: I could have simply called him Douchebag, but he really was a Douchebag amongst Douchebags, so let's give the fucktard some credit.

Anyway, The Amazing Douchebag left behind many relics from our brief stint together, all of which I dutifully returned to him (none of which he returned to me, but let's shelf that, shall we?). I did not snatch any t-shirts or books, they have all found their way back into his hands. What I did keep were the gifts from him. Mainly, to see if they could potentially shed the sentimentality once linked to them and become valued members of the group I like to call "my stuff".

I've already given away the Calligraphy Kit and I threw a cool red scarf back in the bag to give it more time to ferment and potentially become "mine" and not "something from him". But I pulled out a little gem that I'm pretty sure can now come out without gacky reminders of D'bag. It is a book called "The Bodacious Book of Succulence".

Is that a great title or what? I swear, I wish that were the name of my biography "The Bodacious Book of Succulence: a biography."

Anyway, it's a book by a writer about writing and there's nothing I like more than the self-indulgence of writers and the pontification of what it takes to be one. (Hint: it helps if you put your fingers on the keys and stop reading books about writers on writing)

Well, I opened up this book and while occasionally it provides wits and wisdoms on writing - it's more about writing your own life story. I mean - living your life story. Am I still being obtuse? Pretty much it's saying, stop being such a cry baby about what isn't happening, hasn't happened, should have happened - and get busy making it happen.

I'm a tough love sort of person - so this speaks to me. And maybe it's time to get busy "getting over it" You know? Pull The Bag out of the cupboard. Wear the scarf or pitch it. Read the book and forget the man who bought it for you. It's all about being a bigger person.

Except maybe I'm not quite that big yet. Until then send my regards to The Amazing Douchebag - right now that's the best I can do.

Silverman 4 President

Okay, maybe not - but I think Sarah Silverman is pretty effing hysterical and if you don't, well, check out this link and see if you still feel that way...

Sucker for a Survey

I, like my sister, can't pass up a survey. If gives us a chance to be witty and well, screw around when we just can't stand working on communications plans or teaching small children (oh please - she's the teacher. Don't leave me alone with 34 children in a cement block room. you'd have the next Stephen King novel on your hands.) Anyway... this might be one of the better surveys to cross my path:

1. What's the last thing you put in your mouth?
Echinecia tea. I am a sick girl.

2.What does your last incoming text say?
“Are you here?” Very existential

3.The last song you listened to?
I’d like to pretend it was Beethoven or Wagner, but it was “Dear Mr President” by P!nk

4.Where is your best friend right now?
I have best friends (plural) but in the course of one week I’ll have seen them all and that’s a pretty swell week

5.What did you do yesterday?
Turned oxygen into carbon dioxide

6.Pick a scar on your body. Where'd it come from?
Bridge of my nose - at age 1 1/2. I thought I could catch my older sister. Bitch was fast at 4-years-old.

7.What do you really think happened to Steve on Blues Clues?
Who on What?

8.If you could change your name to anything what would it be?
Emily Cusack

9.What would you say if a guy told you, you were the most beautiful person in world?
"I’ll have what he’s having"

11. How often do you curse?
We might save some time by counting the other minute and a half a day

12. Do you trust all of your friends?
Oh hell no. And if they're smart, they don't trust me

13. Would you move to another state or country to be with the one you love?
That's what I signed up for when I joined: www.americanmailbrides.com

14. Have you ever talked on the phone while in the shower?
Who am I, Donald Trump? Who the eff is that important?

15. Which one of your friends do you think would make the best prostitute?
Well, I'm sure if they put their minds to it, any one of them could get pimped out with the best of them.

16. Are you afraid of falling in love?
Love isn't scary - it's the stalking, cheating, heart-wrenching part that makes folks want to go fetal.

17. Is there someone that popped in your mind after that question?
Danny DeVito -but totally unrelated

18. How many kids do you want to have?
I have better plans for my nether-region

19. Would you make a good parent?
"No, Dr Frankenstein, there will be no "making" of parents"

20. Where was your default picture taken?
Okay, I'm lame. What the eff is that?

21. Honestly, what's on your mind right now?
I'm re-memorizing my multiplication tables. Don't judge me.

22. If you could go back in time and change something, what would it be?
My hairstyle in my fifth-grade school picture. I'd be Mrs Lonnie Nells right now

23. What are you wearing right now?
A shit-eating grin and a scarf

24. Right or Left?
Right brain, left politics

25. Can you make a dollar in change right now?
Look under the sofa cushions, you cheap bastards

26. Have you had a sore throat?
Uhhh...right now. (but what the hell kinda question is that?)

27. Who knows you the best?
There are a few peeps who’ve got my number. But only two I’d call if there was a body that needed burying. (KB/CT)

28. Do you wear contact lenses or glasses?
Never both at once, can you say migraine?

29. Ever been to Mexico?
No, but I’m gonna be awful close in a few days.

30. Last thing that made you laugh out loud?
I might have sheepishly grinned a couple times during this survey

31.Would you show your boobs to a midget on roller skates?
Boobs, midget - sure, but roller skates scare the eff out of me

32. Did you miss anyone yesterday?
Marty. Every day.

33. Last person to lay in your bed?
I like to pretend that while I'm at work, George Clooney flies in and writes poetry in my bed. He’s kind enough to leave it just as he found it.

34. What are your plans for the weekend?
Can you say San Diego, baby??

35. Who do you think will repost this?
Z mentioned answering it her ownself.

You Don't Bring Me Flowers...Anymore

I live a pretty happy life. I have good friends and good family and good memories. And every once in a while those three good things converge into one perfect night.

Last night, I went with some of my whacky friends, with a dash of family (and soon-to-be-family) to see The Black Diamond. The Black Diamond is a Neil Diamond tribute singer who we'd seen fliers for around town, but never actually met anyone who'd seen him. He was becoming the stuff of legends.

Then one night while out with CT and Team H, we discovered he would be playing my birthday weekend at a local bar.

Now, sure, there was a pretty good chance that the whole evening would turn into Mockstock 08. 'Cause the real Neil Diamond is farcy enough. A "tribute singer" - hmmm...

All I can say is - The Black Diamond is quite simply - DELICIOUS.

We were with a friend who kept saying he didn't know any Neil Diamond songs until, well, The Black Diamond launched into the next number - and our friend became aware that he knew every Neil Diamond song and could even sing along.

And that is where my conclusion comes in - Neil Diamond rocks. The Black Diamond rocks. And anyone who doesn't believe, well, check out our neighborhood tribute singer as he hits Vegas. It'll be like you done went to sleep an atheist and woke up singing in the church choir.

God bless the deliciousness of The Black Diamond.

The girl who loved Sports

There once was a girl who loved football. She watched the games, owned football jerseys, caught Sports Center and relished in the pigskin season.

Oh crap - did you think I was talking about me? HELL no. I was talking about my friend CT - who actually is like the girl I just described.

She loves football. And like a good Michigander, supports the abysmal Lions and hopes that most any Michigan college beats all other colleges. Girls who love sports really do exist. They are not just the stuff of unicorns and leprechauns. And some times they are sweet, funny, beautiful graphic designers. I know, all the boys are thinking "where do I get me one of them?" Sorry, you missed your chance - she's taken. By another lover-o-the-football.

I am slightly different than my friend, CT. (You knew this would get back around to me eventually) - as sports themselves do not whip me into a frenzy. As many football, basketball and baseball games I've witnessed, both in person and on tv - I don't have a complete understanding of the rules. Okay, basketball, only because I played it (poorly) when I was younger (another story). And once you get into the crazy rules of hockey and soccer - well, then - cash me out.

But...that is not to say I do not like Sports. Because Sports are very smart (if they possessed cognitive thought and reasoning) because Sports know that not everyone has the talent to play them, nor the copious amounts of testosterone to be a fan of them. But they know that most everyone likes to have a good time and that's why Sports where smart enough to include beer, food and cute outfits into their weekly rituals.

And you can't beat bear, food and cute outfits with a stick in my book.

So you will see me at many tailgates. You will find me cheering loudly in the stands. You will glimpse me in an over-priced college tshirt (that I did not attend) and you will probably find me singing Fight Songs off key all at the same time. And don't think for a second you could keep me from throwing a Super Bowl party.

Because while I do not like sports - I do like Sports.



Oh yeah, did I mention all the cute boys in tight uniforms?