Great moments in Sketch Factor history, part the second
I have just finished eating a turkey bacon guacamole sub from Subway that may have been made by Jesus himself. Thank you, Jesus, for you have done good. And I'm feeling slightly less wired, and much less likely to pull the collar of my shirt over my head and scream "I AM THE GREAT CORNHOLIO! I NEED TEEPEE FOR MY BUNGHOLE! DO NOT ANGER MY BUNGHOLE!!!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU THREATENING ME???????"

With that being said, here are some more blasts from the past...

December 2, 2003: I get my 100th visitor, and as a prize, I create the stunning fish graphic you now see on Green Tuna's blog.

From time to time, I like to annoy my readers by posting the lyrics to whatever song is stuck in my head. My philosophy on bad song lyrics is that if I have to suffer, everyone must suffer with me. Here is such an example, from December 3:

Another Postcard
Some chimps in swim suits!
Some chimps in jack boots!
Some chimps in hard hats!
Some chimps who love cats!...

Since that song is caught in my head now, suffer with me. Suffer, I say! Suffer! Even though I love chimps, and between my co-workers and I, we refer to each other as chimps (as in, a chimp could do our job -- or the classic, someone called our department and asked, "what chimp at corporate wrote this ad?" -- and the person who wrote the ad took the call and was pissed) but, this song has got to go. BNL done bad by me.

In this entry, dated December 9, 2003, I ponder an age-old question...

Wondering...Where you live, are Pet stores ALWAYS either next door to, or in the same plaza as, a Chinese buffet? Because where I live, it's like that everywhere. Pet Supplies Plus? Right next to Thai Gourmet. Pet Smart, just a few doors down from China King. Etc. Etc. Etc. Is it a strip mall thing, or is there some other kind of disturbing connection??? I've been wondering about that.

Casual Friday goes to hell, as noted in a post from December 11, 2003:

Have a cup of cheer (with a chaser of bitterness)
As a special holiday treat, we received a memo this morning from management, saying that casual Friday has "deteriorated" from its original intent and thus, they are revising the policy and eliminating jeans, tennis shoes, sweatshirts, sweatpants, t-shirts... basically my entire casual wardrobe. They would like us to wear "slacks" and sports shirts (??), mock turtlenecks and sweaters. Well, other than what I wear Monday through Thursday, I don't own any of the previous items. I have sweaters, but they are sweaters I'd wear with jeans. Mock turtlenecks? Puh-leeze.

This is not going down well in the office. Bad Lady crumpled up her memo and slammed it into the trash can. Which kind of make me chuckle.

I prepare for one of the most painful days of the year on December 12, 2003:

Deck the freakin' hallsToday is that magical day, that special time of year, where ye olde office mates gather in a party room at a local hotel and consume mad alcohol, undercooked meat, veggies and dip, and mass quantities of cheese and crackers. That's right, folks, it's the annual company holiday party! Beginning at 2 this afternoon, this festival of debauchery will feature a drunken escapade by at least one person, on the dance floor. This usually involves saying someone is "hot" and trying to dance with them. And it's usually a president of the company, who is happily married, and who is unhappily mortified at the experience.

It's always somewhat embarrassing for everyone in attendance to see the booty shaking that goes on at these affairs; at least it is for me. When I witness the booty shaking, I'm always so horribly curious about it, that I can't stop staring. Sure, they are having a good time, but at what cost? Do you really want to be known for grinding on the accounting manager? Not so much. Because that's the stuff that is never forgotten. It's kept alive by the likes of the Diet Club, who sit in the lunch room the next Monday and repeat to anyone who will listen, "Did you see so-and-so on the dance floor?" *giggle* And then it finally gets back to you that you're the topic of conversation. You vaguely remember dancing, but not with whom or for how long.

Friends, don't let this happen to you! Don't be that person at the holiday party! Don't tell your boss you think he's hot! Don't hit on the catering staff and make them try to dance with you!

I have seen all of these things, and I can tell you, it ain't pretty.

After Saddaam Hussein is found in his little hole in the ground, I have a case of mistaken identity: (12/15/03)

How many timesam I going to click onto msn.com today and think that the shaggy-bearded man is Rupert Boneham, when in actuality it is Sadaam? Not that they look alike. I just see the beard and think Rupert.

Don't ever leave me alone in the office, or hijinx like these will ensue: (12/23/03):

Hello(o...o...o...o...*echoes through empty office*). No one here but me. Bad Lady went to pick up her pinkeye perscription and the other two people that weren't already on vacation, have gone to lunch and to pick up a Honeybaked Ham.
*does McCauley Culkin "Home Alone" face*
So what does one do when alone in the office?
Spin around in the chair for a while?
*dizzily picks self up off floor*
Sing along loudly to "Feliz Navidad" when it comes on radio?
*prospero ano, felicidad... ha ha!*
See if I can still do a cartwheel down the aisle of cubicles?
*decides against it*
Peer, prairie dog style, over the top of cubicle wall?
*peers*

One of my favorite blogging topics is what I am eating for lunch. It IS the highlight of my day, usually. This entry from December 30, 2003, makes me sad because it's been months since I've seen Awesome Wendy's Grandma, which makes me wonder if she died.

So what should I get to eat? I'm thinking Subway maybe. Wendy's is always a possibility, and then I can see Awesome Wendy's Grandma. She works at the drive-thru at Wendy's, and whenever you pull up to get your food, she is always happy to see you. "Hi, honey!!!!!" she says to me each time I pull up. And then makes some comment on the weather. If it's raining she has a plastic shower cap-like thing over her Wendy's baseball hat. If it's snowing she's bundled up in a scarf she probably knitted herself. She is just so cute, I can't stand it. That settles it. I'm going to Wendy's.

...

Yay for Wendy's. Boo for no Awesome Wendy's Grandma at the drive-thru window. Instead, was greeted by younger, slightly less peppy, non-grandma. *pouts* But my mandarin chicken salad was fantastic.

New Year's Eve was quite memorable due to a certain bar patron. Meatball Guy, this excerpt goes out to you. Hope you're still rockin' the meatballs.

An honorary Sketch Factor awardgoes to the bar where my husband's band played on New Year's Eve. It was a combination of a Kent State student/ townie bar, and since the students were on break, it was mostly townies. Not any townies, mind you. Kent borders on a very rural, shotgun-totin', Confederate flag hangin' area. The crowd was mostly comprised of those kinda folks.

Tickets were $12 and featured the music of three bands. Owen's band was #2 for the evening. A "buffet dinner" was also included. Now when I think buffet, I am thinking, sneeze guard, serving dishes, line up nicely with your plates, wait your turn, etc. Nah. Not here. The buffet consisted of several crock pots lined up on a table. Plus another table with a veggie tray and a third table of chips, pretzels and nachos.

The crock pots really skeeved me out, but faced with the prospect of it being 8:00 and not eating until 2004, I threw caution to the wind.

The food actually ended up being really, really good. There were these fried chicken legs that were to die for. The meat was so tender, it was falling off the bone. And they were cooked in a crock pot -- which was a novel way to cook them, at least I thought. Then there were these meatballs, which provided the major humor for the night. As my friend Amy and I were helping ourselves to the crock pot buffet, we noticed that this guy, who himself resembled a meatball, was piling the meatballs onto his plate and nothing else. We both looked at each other with a "what the hell" expression, but thought nothing of it. I got a couple of the meatballs out, and when we got back to our table, I sampled them and they were outstanding. "What was with that dude with all the meatballs?" she said. "I don't know, but they sure are good," I said. And that was that.

Maybe 20 minutes later, we decided to go up for seconds. I went to the meatballs immediately and joked that "I better get some before they're gone!" Then I move on to the other crock pots o' goodness. No sooner did I leave the meatball area then here he is again, Meatball Guy, filling his plate with MORE meatballs! I swear, he must have taken 20. So I nudge Amy and both of us bust out laughing uncontrollably. It was one of those situations that I immediately felt bad about because I'm pretty sure he knew we were laughing at him. But it was just too funny. Dude sure loved his meatballs.

And it was even funnier when we saw him get up to make a THIRD trip to get more meatballs and come back with even more!

Then after that, he disappeared. I surmised he was probably on the toilet. Amy guessed that he probably died of a heart attack. So no one knows what became of Meatball Guy. And no one else thought it was that funny, except for us.

More pearls of wisdom (Jan 4, 2004):

Contrary to what you may have thought, it is possible to eat too much french onion dip. Take my word for it.

From Jan. 5 -- interesting to note here, that the new person in question was our dearly beloved Screech. Also on this day in Sketch Factor history, the 2000th person pays a visit, although they are of unknown origin.

Change is bad. Bad! I get cranky when my pen runs out of ink and I have to find a new one. Major change really puts me out of whack. Well, today at work, we have a new person starting. (mental note: be on best behavior for rest of day) It's just always weird, adjusting to a new person, and people are moving around desks, and it just throws me off. Even though it won't directly affect me, it will just take some getting used to.

On January 6, I get an interesting early birthday card from my boss...

I got a birthday card from my boss today. Mind you, my birthday is Saturday. The message printed on the inside of the card said, "Wishing you all the fun one birthday can hold!" but my boss crossed out the word "birthday" and wrote "monkey" instead. We have a weird sense of humor around here. But I do love monkeys.

Just because I still think this is ridiculous that this happened, and because it features a moment of IBL eccentricity, here is the post from January 9:

Rah Rah
Just when you think you've heard everything... there's a big meeting today for all the managers of our company (this is about 50 people). Apparently, our company had its best year ever last year (which is the topic of the meeting), and so yesterday I spent much of my day making posters and signs proclaiming the greatness.

We found out at the end of the day yesterday that one of our managers somehow finagled the Cleveland Cavaliers cheerleaders to come to the meeting.

The whole thing is sickening. Not even from a standpoint of being demeaning to the women in the room (which I think it is; and a majority of our managers ARE women), but sickening from a standpoint of being wasteful. They will tell us to our faces that "there's not enough money in the budget" to give us decent pay increases or to get something that we really need for our department, but they'll blow wads of cash to get the cheerleaders to come to a business meeting.

Addendum: My day was made when Incompetent but Likeable came over to my desk and did an awkward version of the old cheer "2 bits, 4 bits, 6 bits a dollar!" I told him he should have been the head cheerleader.

Proof that it really takes a lot to come between me and my fast food lunches (Jan. 14, 2004):

So, yesterday I decide to get lunch from Quizno's. I'm waiting in line to pay, and the cashier is talking to the guy in front of me, for a LONG time. Finally the guy leaves, and she says to me, "I'm so sorry. He works in this plaza and we were just talking about how the Hong Kong Buffet was on the news last night for 'Dirty Dining.'" The Hong Kong Buffet is two doors down from Quizno's. "Dirty Dining" is one of those hidden camera investigative reporting pieces where reporters go into restaurants and look for health code violations.

The Quizno's cashier tells me that the Hong Kong Buffet was reported as being "filthy" and that "the entire plaza is infested with roaches." But she assures me that it is definitely not true, and that she is insulted that the report would say that.

I nod my head and empathize with her but I'm getting more and more uneasy, even though I pay for my sub and leave. Hmm, I say to myself, do I really want to eat this sub after that information has been divulged?

The answer is yes.

More annoying song lyrics (come on, you know you love me when I do this!) from January 14,2004:

Currently playing on Bad Lady's radio: the UB40 classic, "Red Red Wine!"
In case you need a refesher on how the lyrics go:
Red red wine you make me feel fine, make me feel fine, all of de time
Red red wine (unintelligible) monkey (unintelligible) on the street car line
The line broke, the monkey got choked, all went to heaven on a little row boat

Feel free to curse my name as this song stays with you for several hours.

My husband proves himself to be a regular little Martha Stewart (minus the insider trading and jail time at "Camp Cupcake") in times of crisis (Jan. 19, 2004):

I dropped an entire dozen of eggs on the kitchen floor yesterday as I was unpacking groceries. It was one of those slow-motion moments where I tried to stop it from happening, and then "oooooooohhhhhhhhhhssssssssshhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiittttttttttt" as they hit the floor, one by one.

Owen, who was outside shoveling the driveway, happened to come inside seconds later, and to my utter shock (and awe!) , he was the face of calm, and said he knew how to handle the situation. He poured salt on the mess, and it solidified the yokes, making them easier to clean up. Sure, it was gross, but it was a lot better than trying to mop up yoke.

I married the right man.

I impress a company President by pretending to be busy... (1/22/04):

Yesterday I learned a very important lesson in business: even if you aren't doing anything important, if you look like you are, it might fool the right people.

Remember a couple weeks ago when I had to organize that photo shoot and run around like a freak trying to get people to come get their picture taken? Other than finding people and forcing them to say cheese, there really was nothing to this job. It just ate several hours of my day, and I did a lot of standing around with my notepad, watching the shoot and trying to figure out who to get next.

Anyway. My boss called me into his office last night and told me that one of the big presidents of our company, who was one of the people who got photographed that day, hired our photographers to come to Pittsburgh to some convention they are putting on. And she also said, "get that girl who was directing the photo shoot [me!!!] to come and direct it here, too."

Hee. So standing around and looking official has bought me a two-day trip to Pittsburgh. I guess I should be flattered that she thought that I was "directing." Actually, I find the whole thing comical. I mean, I had nothing to do with the photographers other than bringing them their subjects.

I guess I can add "photography director" to my resume?

It's kind of an "Office Space" moment.

More to come, I promise!