So That Happened...

Some People Shouldn't Be Parents

And now, a conversation I had over the weekend:

Me (at work): Hello?

Woman: Hi. I want you to do a story on Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

Me: What kind of story? We're not affiliated with the studio, and I don't have any contact inf-

Woman (annoyed): I'm not ASKING for contact information! I want you to do a story on how Forgetting Sarah Marshall should be rated X instead of R! It's promoted for kids but it should be rated X!

Me (knowing what she is going to say but wanting to hear it anyway): Well, why do you think it should be rated X?

Woman (loudly): BECAUSE I took my kids to see this movie [emphasis mine] and in it you see a full naked male penis at least SIX TIMES! I don't know how I'm going to get that image out of my kids' heads!

Me (calmly): But, ma'am, the movie is rated R. It's not being promoted to children. It's for adults. What are your children doing seeing a rated-R movie?

Woman (even more shouty): I NEED YOU TO DO A STORY ON THIS! IT SHOULD BE RATED X! I'm trying to SAVE THE COUNTRY!!

Me (trying not to laugh): Ma'am, it's rated R. It's not FOR KIDS.

Woman (huffily): Oh, you're for it, you're for it. She's for it (directed to someone in the room).

Me: CLICK! (hangs up)

Show of Hands

Who's working today besides Dawn and me? I'm just curious. To those who get the day off, enjoy it for all of us, won't you?

No, There ARE Stupid Questions: Part II

Just when I thought my first experience wasn't enough, I now give you the following incident from yesterday:

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Picture it - Downtown L.A. I am in the middle of researching and surrounded by stacks of papers, but happen to be knitting at the moment (hey, I was waiting for a call). Nearby sits a woman with a cane. There is a microfiche machine next to me. A second woman comes in and has to use it.

Me: glances briefly over at the woman to my left as she tries to figure out how to use the microfiche machine (doesn't everyone know how?), and continue with my knitting.

Woman: fiddles with machine, sighs loudly.

Me: still knitting and - have I mentioned? - still SURROUNDED BY STACKS OF PAPERS. It is painfully clear that I am ensconced in that spot.

Woman (to me after realizing that she is going to be using the machine for more than one minute): "Excuse me...can I have your chair?"

No, I am not kidding.

Me: Silence. Silence because I am GOBSMACKED. Gobsmacked because this woman is asking if she can have my chair. You know, THE ONE I AM USING. The one I am SITTING IN RIGHT NOW THAT SECOND. Yes, THAT CHAIR. The ONE THAT IS OCCUPIED. BY ME.

Woman: looking at me as I TOTALLY ignore her and her stupid request.

Woman with cane: actually GETS UP and offers her chair to the hapless cane-free woman. I KNOW. "Here. You can have mine." Way to validate the stupid cow, right?

Hapless Woman: "Oh, no, that's okay. I didn't want to ask you because you have a cane." She then proceeds to TAKE THE PROFFERED CHAIR even though she just said she didn't want to take it from the woman WITH THE CANE.

Me: trying very, very hard not to stab a bitch with my Clover 7-inch straight.

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Sigh. I hate people.

No, There ARE Stupid Questions

And now, a transcript of a conversation I had yesterday at work:

Me: "Media Corporation Which Shall Remain Nameless - can I help you?"

Woman: "Hi. I just wanted to ask...well, I have the TV on and there are four different channels showing fire coverage."

Me: "Yes."

Woman: "I wanted to know if you could stop airing the fire coverage and instead change it to show cartoons for the kids."

Me (wearing a 'WTF?' expression on my face): "Well, no. No, we can't. We are live on the air for breaking news."

Woman (exasperated): "Why not? We can watch the fire on any of the other channels. You should change it and show cartoons for the kids so they have something to watch."

Me (matter-of-factly): "No. I can tell you right now that we are not going to stop our breaking news coverage to air cartoons for your kids."

Woman (clearly annoyed with the answer): "Well, that's a bad decision."

Me (biting my tongue so hard I think I drew blood): "I'm sorry you think that. Goodbye!" Click.

I KNOW.

Listen, lady, you want your kids to watch cartoons? Fine. Then go right ahead and pop in one of the gazillion DVDs I'm sure you own or maybe, oh, I don't know, CHANGE THE CHANNEL. Don't you dare think for a second that your problem of keeping your kids entertained is soooooo important that a TV STATION IN THE #2 MARKET IN THE COUNTRY is actually going to stop covering LIVE BREAKING NEWS because your little ones have nothing to watch. It's people like you who ruin TV for everyone. I am NOT kidding. GOD.

Move Along...Nothing To See Here

That is, at least for today. Work has been absolutely exhausting. I'm not going to go into details about my job here, but those of you who know what I do know the reason as to why I am so beat, and why I ended up working a twelve-hour shift without eating a THING the entire time. (Okay. I had an apple and three pieces of Japanese rice candy, but those four things do NOT constitute a meal.)

More later. Right now I just need to get something resembling rest.

Open Letters To My Co-Workers

Dear Unidentified Co-Worker #1,

When someone asks you "How are you doing?" as you're passing each other in the hallway, the appropriate response is a quick "Fine"/"Good"/"Fair to middling" (depending on your mood) followed up with "How 'bout you?" which in turn generates an equally brief response.  It is NOT the time to go into extensive detail about your health/relationship woes/emotional well-being.  I'm usually dashing down the hallway to get to the restroom, and you and your talk are holding me back, and that does not make me happy, to say the least.  While I want you to be okay (and I really do), I don't care to hear about Every. Single. Thing. that is wrong with you.  So, yeah, cut that shit out.  Thanks.

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Dear Unidentified Co-Worker #2,

You're a perfectly nice person, but you really really REALLY need to understand the definition of personal space and, above all, how to respect it.  I dread seeing you come by my desk because I know that not only are you going to stop and talk to me, you are going to stand less than five inches away from me and be all up in my face.  I CANNOT STAND THAT.  It gives me the creeps and makes me want to punch you in the throat because you are essentially "trapping" me in with your body and I HAVE NOWHERE ELSE TO GO.  Stop trying to create some false sense of friendship and/or intimacy with the whole standing-too-close thing, okay?  Stop being my personal space invader.  Thanks.

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Dear Unidentified Co-Worker #3,

I appreciate a good shoulder rub as much as the next person, but I get way creeped out whenever I see you adminstering them to various and sundry co-workers during the day.  We're at WORK, for pete's sake, and unless our office has turned into some massage therapy school (which it has not), I don't think it's appropriate behavior.  I know you don't mean anything untoward and that you are just being nice, but still, STAY AWAY FROM ME.  First and foremost, you don't know me well enough to have your hands on me like that.  Second, you are in my personal space without my permission, which, again, I HATE.  If I want a massage I'm going to go to my favorite place and not worry that my boss is going to walk by and see what's going on.  Thanks.

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Dear Unidentified Co-Worker #4,

I don't know who you are, but QUIT STEALING MY LUNCH.  I'm serious.  Do I have to be all Leigh Botts in Dear Mr. Henshaw about it and install an alarm on my lunch bag?  I do not have to resort to such measures, do I?  I hope not.  You will rue the day I learn of your identity.

Call Me, Barbara Kopple and Cecilia Peck, Because Clearly You Need My Help

I was watching Letterman last night when I saw the commercial for Shut Up and Sing, the documentary on the Dixie Chicks.

It is a compelling ad for an intriguing story, but do you know what caught my attention?

I. KNOW. 

Someone please tell me how - just HOW - a grammatical error of this level made it through how many levels of QC and how many pairs of eyes to broadcast.  I am not kidding. 

Documentary producers, production companies, movie trailer producers - don't make me use my keen intellect for evil.  You want a killer AP who can spot a factual or grammatical error from ten paces and knows her way around a camera or a courtroom?  Well, I'm your woman.  Gaffes like this do nothing but provide fodder for your adversaries.  Don't let it happen to you. 

If you had someone like me working for you, it wouldn't.

A Banner Day

[Secondary Title: Sometimes Work Does Not Suck]

As much as I complain about work and how I am neither inspired nor challenged, I have days like yesterday that make up for (almost) everything.

Exhibit #1:

 

Just when you thought I wasn't going to post about So You Think You Can Dance anymore, it's BENJI!  With ME!  I kind of hate how psychotic I look in this picture, but I was so excited, y'all, you have no idea.  Well, some of you fine people will. 

Exhibit #1A:

What?  A second picture with Benji?  Don't mind if I do!  Sadly, I could not go to the show (long story), which leads me to...

Exhibit #2:

YAY!  I'm on the field and everything!  Again, not the best picture of me (Um, Yesterday's Hair?  We need to talk.), but still.  USC did me proud by beating Nebraska 28-10 - again, YAY!

Eagle-eyed readers may notice that I am wearing different outfits in these pictures.  Yes, I changed clothes between events.  What of it?  Also, please don't make fun of how my pink purse doesn't match.

SIGH.

Someone at work asked me how to spell "literacy."

The Kicker

In television news, there is a specific story known as "the kicker."  You may recognize the kicker: it is always at the end of the show - after weather, entertainment, sports and even the night's Lotto numbers.  It is what you will see before the anchors bid you a good night and a pleasant tomorrow.

The kicker, really, is filler, if you want to get right down to it.  It is a brief video clip - sometimes with a soundbite - of someone or something totally inane yet not quite forgettable as it makes for unusual water-cooler talk the next day ["Hey, did you see that (fill in the blank) last night?  That was something, huh?"].  It's not quite newsworthy enough to warrant a slot somewhere in the middle of the show, but it's just unusual enough to make it into the rundown.  It is the non sequitur of TV news stories, and that's saying something when you consider the current state of TV news in general.

The classic kicker is, of course, Twiggy the Water-Skiing Squirrel doing his thing around a little lap pool.  My other favorite kickers are:

• Granny Goes Skydiving (and it's ALWAYS to celebrate her birthday)
• World's Largest ______ (in this case, pizza)
• Dog Beauty contests (in this case, bulldogs)
• Human Flying Machine competitions
• Any state fair race involving livestock, reptiles or crawling babies but, alas, not against each other.  Now that would be something!

I'm not exactly sure why I felt compelled to write a post dedicated to the kicker.  Maybe I just wanted to use a picture of the water-skiing squirrel. 

In the spirit of the theme, I offer you my own kicker - a clip that never fails to make me laugh:

Monkey Washing a Cat

Enjoy.