There is no treat to be had in "Treat Day"

In an effort to build camaraderie (and our waistlines), my department has organized a weekly “treat day” where people from the department take turns bringing in sweets for the other treat day participants.

Despite the fact that this weekly tradition has the word “treat” in it, it seems to be one of the greatest sources of stress for any and all of the participants; and more often than not, it is the catalyst behind many water-cooler bitch sessions.

“So and so only brought chips,” one person will snip bitterly, “and I always bring fresh doughnuts and coffee. It’s like they don’t care at all.”

“Coworker K never takes treat day seriously,” another will say, “why can’t we kick people out of the rotation?!”

Yes people are always complaining about something here; however, I have noticed that the bitching always seems to hit a high point whenever food is involved. One would think that any treat is better than no treat at all, but after working for Company X for a few years now, I have quickly learned that there are some coworkers who will find anything to grip about because that’s just the way “they like to roll.”

Today rang in an especially new low when Coworker S tried to send out a new schedule for the treat rotation; and I say “tried” of course, because it took her 6 e-mails to get the schedule right.

The first e-mail included a treat day schedule that was missing names of some of the people who wanted to participate in the rotation.

The second schedule included people who have long since left the department

In the third e-mail she forgot to attach the schedule all together

The fourth e-mailed schedule had my treat day partner and I slated for 2 turns more than anyone else. After exchanging three e-mails with me on the subject, my partner sent Coworker S an e-mail asking if she could revise this to make the rotation more fair.

The fifth e-mail was a copy of my partner’s complaint e-mail forwarded on to the rest of the department.

And the sixth e-mail was just an attachment with the final treat day schedule.

Treat day has now officially crossed the line from run of the mill office annoyance to something you would expect to see on T.V. Steve Carell, HERE WE COME!

How babies learn their first words...

There is a new study out by Livescience.com claiming that "infants tend to grasp the names of objects that interest them rather than whatever the speaker thinks is important."

This might not bode well for me, seeing that my first word was "beer."

If heaven was a beverage...

After much thought, and careful consideration I have decided that there needs to be a major change to the food pyramid as it stands today. Below I have submitted my changes in (what else) a Microsoft Painted illustration.

You will see that in the place of meat, poultry and protein I have inserted McDonald's clever nod to the Irish, the Shamrock Shake. (This should make you vegetarians happy as it is green and tastes a lot better than salmon.)

Some might say that the St. Patrick's Day frosty beverage is merely a milkshake that should be filed under "oilsfats/sweets" or even the "milks and dairy" section of the food pyramid, but I believe that neither of these categories will suffice. Indeed, McDonald's Shamrock Shake is so much more than that: it is what heaven would taste like if it were blended up and served in a glass, with a little bit of green food coloring and around 20 grams of fat. Yum.

T-shits and giggles, Part Deux

Today I bought a t-shirt, which I believe may just be the coolest shirt in the WORLD.

Once again, I have turned to Microsoft Paint to make my case:


I would imagine that few of you could legitamately take issue with my statement that this is indeed the world's coolest t-shirt, but I dare you to try.

Bring it!

Wisconsin: you think you know, but you have no idea.

Over the past few weeks many crazy things have been happening in my life, none of which made it onto this blog. However, here are some of the things that are on my mind today:

1. I recently learned that one of my best friends is moving to Texas with her husband. Even more shocking was the news that she and her husband were not planning on setting up a second bed room for me in their new house.

2. After getting a substaintialy large role in a community theatre show, I couldn't help but notice that for a 30-something year old man, my co-star seems to know a hell of a lot about Buffy the Vampire Slayer and that scares me a little bit. I have also learned that there are community theatre directors out there who make Corky St. Clair look like Steven Spielburg.

3. On the upside, green beer tastes just like regular beer. On the downside, after 8 hours of drinking green beer- the beer won't be the only thing that's green.

4. "Coworker D" is now a solid 7 months into her baby-daddyless pregnancy, and there is just something about thick green eyeshadow and a high side ponytail on a pregnant woman that makes me want to blog.

5. I really like hugs. (I have always known this about myself, but just like to remind people.)

Disturbing developments in the Midwest...

Currently there appear to only be documented cases of THIS phenomenon in the Midwest; but clearly, it is only a matter of time...

Please educate yourselves, and be prepared.

Update...anything at all

As you all have probably noticed, I have been a major delinquent in terms of this blog; and don't get me wrong, things are happening...I just can't bring myself to write about them.

So here is an update from my favorite comedien, Mike Birbiglia's "Secret Public Journal"-please enjoy, and hold tight, I promise there will be updates next week!!!

"Dear Secret Journal,

I've just completed the first leg of my "Medium Man on Campus" Tour. In 7 days, I did shows at NYU, Hamilton, SUNY Albany, Missouri, Kansas, UVA, and Dickinson. And I am very relieved that I made it to these shows because my dirty little secret is that I am a huge flake. You see, when I wake up in the morning to catch the flight to my next show, there is a tiny little man in my head (who I call Sleepy Karl) who insists that in fact we don't have to go to fly to Charlottesville, Virginia, but rather that we would be better served by lying in bed for another 4 hours and fading in and out of consciousness. For many years I have done battle with Sleepy Karl and for the most part I am victorious. But sometimes I am not.

REAL GENIUS
When I was in college, I took a class called "Computers and Networks" that was at 9 in the morning and I went to the first couple of classes and found that a lot of the stuff was way over my head. The professor was talking about "computers" and "what's inside them" and so eventually when I would wake up for class, Sleepy Karl would say things like "Why would you go listen to someone talking gibberish about computers when you could be here riding on a ferris wheel made entirely of pizza?" So I stopped going to class. And I didn't return until the midterm, assuming that I would at least pass, since after all I'm a computer genius. But I failed. And I decided that from now on I would go to class. I would study for the final. I would experience the college movie montage where everyone in the dorm is helping me get ready. Val Kilmer would be hanging upside down from the shower curtain rod quizzing me wearing flippers and an oven mitt. But that montage never happened and when I showed up at the class before the final to find out what would be on the final, the guy next to me says, "Do you think we'll get back the final?" And I said, "We took the final? Oh nooo." So I run to the computer science department and there's my professor and I say, "Hi professor…" but I didn't know his name. So I said, "Sir, I'm Mike Birbiglia and I'm in your class and I misunderstood the syllabus and I missed the final." And he was very angry. He didn't even look at me. He just looked at the floor. And he said "You get the worst grade." And I said "So I get a zero?" and he said, "You get the grade that the person who did the worst on the test got on the test." And I thought, "That is great news, because that's what I would have gotten if I had taken the test. Or I would have done worse." So we got back our tests and the person who did the worst on the test passed the test. So I passed the test AND I passed the class. And I am proud to be an American. Every few months, I have a dream where I find out that there's a class that I'm enrolled in that I haven't attended and I'm just finding out at the end of the semester. And I think the reason I have the dream is that it happened. And the class I never went to is a metaphor for the class I never went to.

CHASING AMY
So I'm in Kansas and I have to wake up at 4 am to catch the only available flight to Charlottesville, VA. And since 4 am is such an unreasonable time, I had a contentious debate with Sleepy Karl. Sleepy Karl was like, "They can't expect you to get up this early." And I was like "Good point, Karl." As I pondered this, I drifted into sleep for another 20 minutes. Then I realized that I was going to be late, so I raced to the airport, returned my rental, and got my ticket. I was going to make the flight after all. But as I reached the front of security, I was told that my ticket had someone else's name on it: They were like "Are you John Grant?" And I was like "Not only am I not John Grant, but I don't even know who John Grant is." I mean, if they had said, "Are you Sleepy Karl?" I could have at least said "No, but I know him." If they had said "Are you Ben Affleck?" I could say "No, but I feel like his career declined after Chasing Amy." But John Grant was this major curveball. So when I shook my head, they said "You have to go back to the ticket line." I looked through the glass and saw that my flight was boarding and I turned around and sprinted back to the ticket line. It was in those five minutes that I believe 11 years was taken off my life. But I returned with the correct ticket and boarded the flight. I arrived in Charlottesville and did the show at UVA. I passed the test. And I passed the class.
BIGBut it made me think about how I keep making the same mistakes. And how the hardest thing about becoming an adult is that when you're a kid and you mess up, you can say "Well…I was young and stupid." But when you're an adult and you mess up, all you can say is "I am stupid." So I've decided to make a change. In 3 weeks from now, I begin a month-long tour across the country. But something is going to be different. This time, I have rented a bus and a driver to bring me across the country, insuring that there is no way I can miss my shows. I have come to grips with who I am. I am a child. And children ride in a bus. I'll see you out there, everybody. I'll be the guy in the bus, hanging out with Sleepy Karl.

That concludes this week's entry in my Secret Public Journal. "