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Friday, June 15, 2007

Duck Hunt, Other Kinds of Hunt
by Freelance Midget

What is appropriate at work? I spend a fair amount of my day "communicating" (yes, that's a nice, diplomatic word) on backchannels with other monkeys at work, and I find myself mulling over this question quite often. The guilt hasn't quite set in yet.

Today was quite interesting as I was privy to the manatees communicating outside my office. Between the clicking and sonar pings (maybe this is for dolphins-only, but who cares), I learned that there is to be a gathering this evening at some undisclosed location in preparation for a wild, debaucherous night on the town. But where is this undisclosed location? And in which town will they gather to "rage" like crazed beasts? Such mysteries fill my life. Along with my speculations on super-string theory, Kaluza-Klein dimensions, and how does Duck Hunt work??!!!

Actually, I have solved that last mystery. I can enlighten you if you wish.

Seriously, though. I would love to witness these manatees in line at Butter (ha!) or Harlot. Visions of "Knocked-Up, Scene: Outside the Club, Status: 9 months preggers" flashes to mind. Doorman. Doorman. Doorman. Doooooooormaaaaaaaan. My guess, however, is that you could find them in San Jose, or maybe Oakland, posting up at Golden Corral or Charo's Nut House.

But moving on, there's the question of dress in the office. Business casual is the name of the game, and admittedly, I stretch that definition to accomodate my wardrobe, but there are a few outliers that I enjoy spotting around the place now and then. Shock? Speechlessness? Amusement? Sly disdain? Just a few descriptive mots aux jour that spring to mind when I pass these Bai Ling's and Elton John's in the hallway. On my last few safaris, I was lucky to encounter: a referee from Russia (female), a pimp, a total dexter (both male and female), and a wannabe Nicole Richie, and of course, Ralph Wiggum, Senior Partner, in his never ending parade of Aloha shirts. I hear there's a guy that enjoys the occasional liederhosen and knee socks, but alas, until a sighting is confirmed, he will remain in the realm of Sasquatch and Nessie. In a slight aside, I need to update my Celebrity-Look-Alike tally. Welcome! Kim Jong-Il!

Now this N. Richie troglodyte is a curious mystery to me. I usually see her prancing around in microscopically-strapped silk tops and total (Eastern European) FOB shoes - you know, it really is true that you can gauge a person's social skills just from his/her shoe coice (yes, I will always notice your shoe choice) - yet...I also always run into her in the bathroom, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. Ah! And lest I forget: the warm, intoxicating smell of just regurgitated food wafting through the (already-gross-in-my-mind) bathroom ether. Forgive me if I have misjudged, but don't people who think they are "fat" usually try to cover up said "fat"?

Well, maybe I'm wrong. I'll reconsider this point. It does seem to be a prevalent trend that celebrity skeletors enjoy stalking around with all their points uncovered in order to further enjoy the wind whistling through their brains and legs.

ANYWAY. I've got a club opening to attend and I have to get my hair did. Golden Corral is calling my name.


Nonny Nu said...

Oh, my eyes!!! Three blog entries in one day? This blog is so feast or famine...

But, anyway, don't you have some future in-laws to attend to? I think you should nix the club openning, unless you're taking your in-laws with you (which might explain the Golden Corral references). It's funny, but I used to live around the corner from a Luby's, otherwise known as "Studio 84". Around 4:30pm or so (on the days I'd "finish" work a bit early), I'd see a whole swarm of Caddys vying for a handicap space in the Luby's parking lot. And, it never fails, whenever I am stuck behind a slow moving boat with a cloud of hair just peeking over the driver seat, they make that right turn into Luby's. Fun times.

King Friday XIII said...

hmm, interesting.

Fashion PoPo said...


Unfortunately, you are not the only person trapped in a world of "business casual" where the outliers threaten the fashion harmony of the masses.

Though the birk n' socks look deserves something near the death penalty, perhaps thing only thing worse is when someone with ugly toes decides to rock open-toed sandals in the workplace (and then tries to argue that they fall within the workplace policy).

Hello Frodo Baggins!

Cl. Panic said...

I always wondered how, exactly, Duck Hunt worked, and I'm glad I now know.

As a side note, I did occasionally notice the screen go black when I was a young lad playing Duck Hunt. My friends said I was crazy. Ha!

Then again, in architecture class, I complained that I could hear the ultrasound pen cleaner...