“It’s frickin’ freezing in here, Mr. Bigelsworth.”

-Dr. Evil from Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery

I don’t mean to alarm anyone but we are pretty much at a full-tilt boogie* code-blue alert. The temperature in the office has dropped to alarming levels. A sales person was found dead in the conference room, allegedy due to hypothermia. The sales person was found on his back and sources say he was frozen in the middle of flashing the double-finger-guns. These reports are unconfirmed.

*Copyright pending by Michael B. Walsh

About the current cube situation…

does it take to break down two cubicles?
I’ll let you know when they’re done. Don’t hold your breath though.

This one’s for me and Marty. Technically, Dave is here too but “two” sounded so much more pathetic and appropriate.

Someecards

I had so much fun on Someecards that I decided to make a few of my own today.
First up, this one is for Dave.

In a surprising turn of events, Senior Graphic Designer Linda Quintana found herself with a green light from head programmer Dave Mertl today at approximately 6:35PM PST.

“I’m shocked,” Quintana reports. “I asked and he said, ‘Yes.’ It happened just like I always imagined it would.”

When pressed for more detail about DC’s first ever reported “Says Yes First”, Quintana is hesitant to discuss it further. “I don’t want to jinx it. Let’s just stop talking about it.”

Sources close to Mertl could not readily account for the change of heart. One close source mentioned that it might have something to do with Mertl’s birthday cake, which has recently became a viral sensation on the Internet.

You should hate me too. This article will explain why.

Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be over here twittering on Facebook about blogging about nothing remotely work-related.

OMG, I work in HR!

Coming Soon: “DC’s Head of Technology Says ‘Yes’ First”

Late afternoon/tonight: Main area of office will be high ’50s/low ’60s except for Michael’s office which will stay toasty at a high of 90/80.

Advisory: Expect random bursts of cold air in reception area and hallway toward kitchen.

Penguins and polar spotted roaming Craig Diamond’s corner office.

F.F. O’Meter is at a relatively safe light blue (Stage 2).

My mouse is not working well. I don’t know if this is normal or has something to do with my current mental state but when your mouse suddenly stops going where you want it to and requiring random extra clicks, you feel the urge to hurl your half-filled Union Bank piggy bank into your cubicle wall.
In other news, I beat up a couch this weekend. We were moving, the couch had been sitting on our balcony for three years and even Free Stuff on Craigslist took one look at its dusty arse and said, “Um, no thanks.” A very large man named Jo-Jo (don’t ask) suggested that my roommate and I just tear the couch to pieces and toss it in the dumpster, since we were informed several times by our beyond irritating, pale-as-that-dude-from-Cocoon landlord that leaving furniture by the dumpster would mean a “serious” fine.

So we called our friend Beal over. Beal is exactly the person you call when you have to say the words, “Can you come over and help me demolish a couch?” She arrived at our house in less than ten minutes.

A couple of things about this process. 1) There is a Mormon church across the street. 2) We’re on the second floor. 3) Throwing stuff off our balcony is my roommate’s most favorite thing to do in the world. At some point we got so sick of moving that she just started chucking things into the trees- ping pong balls, a candle, Christmas tree lights. Ordinarily I condemn littering except when I’m moving and it takes 19 hours.

So here’s the scenario. Vic (my now former roommate) and Beal on the balcony with the couch, which looked like this:

Lovely, right? It weighs about 6 lbs. 5 lbs of that is dirt. Somewhere my mother is crying and wondering what I’ve done with my life.

They’re on the balcony. I’m down below on the street, looking for passerby and passing traffic. I’m also holding a broom. I don’t know what made me think a broom could protect me somehow, as if the couch bounced and headed for my head and muscle-fatigued body, I could maybe use it as some kind of deflecting mechanism? It seemed like a good idea at the time.

We were hoping, praying that the drop from the balcony would do most of the damage. I was hoping for destruction of a Bruckheimer magnitude, springs and felt and dirt flying everywhere, the frame cracking in two.
Instead…it bounced.

Which is fine, really. Because one it settled and the mushroom cloud of dirt left its form, there was nothing left to do but attack it with hammers. I have pictures of this but we took Polaroids and they’re on the new fridge in the new place and I forgot to take them this morning.

May I suggest, the next time you leave work on a Friday to pack and move your stuff for seven hours, until it’s 3am and you just did laundry because what other time could you do it? and you realize you have to wake up the next day and move yet more stuff? Not to mention, deal with Craigslist people calling all day, negotiating .75 cents off your $150 couch, worry that you might have to have your Goodwill furniture hauled away, move approximately seven gajillion boxes, miscellaneous lamps and stools and bookshelves, until you feel like crying and your hands hurt like you’ve been carrying four plastic bags full of Arrowhead gallons of water for hours and hours and they’re raw and your muscles fail and you end up begging your roommate to kill you please because there’s just too much stuff and no, I don’t want the sombrero, THROW IT ALL AWAY?

Try tearing a couch apart with your bare hands. Instant second wind.

Also, if you could manage to draw an entire crowd of Mormons out of their church recital to stare at you and shield their children’s eyes from the sight? Even better.