My son is only 10 months old, but he’s very advanced for his age. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that he’s very advanced for your age.
Go ahead and accuse me of being biased. But I don’t have blinders on. In fact, I have no problem admitting that he can be a real simpleton sometimes.
For example, he doesn’t know how to operate a standard transmission. He can’t distinguish between Baroque and Rococo. He doesn’t seem to grasp the symbolism of the red pickle dish in Ethan Frome, no matter how many times I spell it out for him.
Believe me — I could go on! But I’m not here to discuss my kid’s intellectual shortcomings. (What kind of asshole do you think I am?) We all have our cognitive challenges, after all. The important thing is that we celebrate and hone our strengths … even if “we” can’t seem to get a handle on basic French grammar, vous me suivez? Continue reading
I’m still honoring my work anniversary (in the U.S., this is traditionally a week-long celebration, like Kwanzaa or Kristen Stewart’s birthday). I know this comes across like so much sarcasm, but I’m now at a place in my career where I’m able to spend entire days dicking around on the Internet and writing posts for my personal blog — and my boss still thanks me for doing a great job!
Basically, I am the Peyton Manning of working in offices, but with 30% less forehead. Today, I’m going to share some words of wisdom that have helped me attain this lofty peak of mediocrity. Continue reading
My work anniversary is this week, and it’s the most melancholy of all anniversaries. It raises so many big questions: What am I still doing here? What am I doing with MY LIFE? Are these fuckers just going to give me a raise already, or are they seriously going to make me beg?
And speaking of “big questions,” which do you think is more pathetic: (a) buying lottery tickets with the sincere hope/desperate wish that you might one day manage to win your way out of this cubicle-dotted hellscape, or (b) finally giving up on that hope? JUST ASKING FOR A FRIEND. Continue reading
I love movies, said the thrillingest-ever lede to a blog post, but I came to movie-watching as a hobby kind of late in life. I spent my first 18-ish years reading every book in my local library, and then watching a lot of sitcoms in between chapters. If you’re picturing me as an unearthly pale kid with visible blue veins and giant glasses and an inhaler, may I ask how long you’ve had the shining?
Anyway, by this point in my life, I’ve managed to catch up on a respectable number of cinematic classics like The Godfather and Vertigo and Taxi Driver and Mannequin. (You heard me.)
Still, there are huge, gaping holes in my personal movie history — mostly from the period in my life when I was grinding up and snorting the complete collected works of Ann M. Martin and Francine Pascal. And when I admit to members of my peer group that I haven’t seen these particular movies, they’re usually like, “OMG WUT STAHP R U SERIOUS????” As though it doesn’t count for anything that I saw Cop and a Half in the theater, you know? Continue reading