treefroggirl

posted by Thomas on Jul 31

One nice thing about a UK office is that biz speak is used usually for the sake of humour and even if it is used seriously, everyone knows it’s bullshit.

Americans often don’t get the joke. An exception is a friend at my old gig who told me he had a contest with someone else to make up biz speak words to see who could get their manager to start using them first.

Some people are more suseptable than others to the influences of biz wank vocab. My boss often, bless him will say, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to randomise you.” (Spread you too thin.)

Tim sent out an e-m today that created an inspired string. . . he included the font colour and bolding.

From: Tim

Guys,

I wanted to reach out to you, and synch regarding the SMACK PACK. We have all ramped really well despite a major challenge of losing two members – Nicole and Khaled.

I’m going to schedule a brainstorm session for us to discuss and go over our meeting with Mark and Julie… but in the interim I thought I would pencil in topics for our meeting…

—————————————–

From: Ross

Thanks for netting that out Tim. You’ll make a “seagull manager” yet. Do you have a date for the brainstorm, though, as Im  a bit short of bandwidth right now. 

Ross

————————————–

posted by Thomas on Jul 30

*

I blame myself.

There was an ad in a local magazine asking people to either adopt a greyhound or help take them out on walks.

Stuart loves greyhounds so I showed it to him. One of the pictures is a Santa’s Little Helper look alike with huge brown eyes.

Stuart looked at it. “Ohhh!”

“Maybe we could volunteer to walk them.”

“Ohhh!”

“They have a Wimbledon branch.”

“Ohhhhhhh.”

“Sweetie?”

“But then we would want to take one home.”

“We can’t take one home. We can’t have pets and we don’t have a garden.”

I wish we could adopt a dog. I miss having a fuzzy. What was great about my cats was you could leave them alone all day, go out for dinner and they’re okay as long as they have food and water and a clean litter box. Sure they may not be happy with you that you weren’t there worshiping them, but they will be ok.

Dogs, you can’t leave alone in a flat for 12-15 hours unless you like everything chewed up and smelling of poo. Not unless you have a garden.

Yesterday Stuart decided we were going to adopt a greyhound.

“Honey our lease.”

“Leave that to me.”

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“I think you are just going to bring a dog in here when we aren’t supposed to have one.”

“Pffft.”

“And we don’t have a garden.”

“We’ll hire a dog walker.”

I did a quick bit of research and I found a walker in our area that charges ten quid an hour. Times that by five working days and you are talking about fifty quid a week.

All day long Stuart was making plans about the dog. I started to be a bit caught up in it and did some research online and looked at dog personals. But I just knew it would end badly.

“Honey, we would never be able to meet after work for dinner. We’d have to come home first to let the dog out. I think we should wait until of lease is up and then move into a flat with a garden. If you are willing to get a dog walker than you should be willing to pay an extra 200 pounds toward rent.”

“Okay. . .”

He looked like a little boy and I felt like a mean mom.

*This is a picture of Charlie. This is the doggie that I fell in love with looking at the pictures.

posted by Thomas on Jul 27

Putting groceries away in the refrigerator Thursday night and Stuart comes up behind me, puts his hands on my hips. I don’t know why, but when he does something like that, it makes me feel smaller than I am. Maybe that’s why I am with him.

I turned around and kissed him. Not a peck- not a high school make out session. . . a Goldie Locks just right snog especially when you are in the middle of doing things and you would rather not be interrupted and you know he is in the middle of things and he won’t let you try to interrupt him.

He tasted of beer.

I pulled away. Sniffed his lips, scrunched up my face with the weight of the calculation. . . “One and a half beers.”

Stuart was gobsmacked.

“How did you do that?!”

I shrugged.

It was a lucky guess with a mixture of Sherlock Holmsing. His breath didn’t reek like it does when he has been in the pub for 13 hours. I knew about the time he came home. I knew the relative time it takes him to drink a pint, then I divided that by 3.14159 and voila the answer was 1.5.

He left a half hour after that and met a friend in a pub. I didn’t do the maths when he came home but I’m inferring a total of seven.

I didn’t check my calculations however and I stayed up until two polishing off a bottle of wine while he went to bed. When I did get to bed I had strange dreams that I can’t remember. In the morning Stuart told me that I was chattering in my sleep.

“What did I say?”

“I don’t know. I was sleeping.”

I guess I should be happy I didn’t do any neked’ sleepwalking . . .

posted by Thomas on Jul 26

Ali was at my desk chatting.

“Saw Eternal Sunshine last night.”

‘Ah, I love that movie.”

“You remind me of her.”

“Really?”

“You know? Free-spirited American.”

“I don’t think of myself like that. . . thank you. Course I never dyed my hair blue. But I did have a jet-black phase in Uni.”

Pause.

“I do have the whole crazy, alcoholic thing down.”

Ali nodded, “Yeah.”

posted by Thomas on Jul 26

I’ve been wanting to watch this series all flippen year. I love Aaron Sorkin. Sports Night was one of the best series on TV. West Wing before it started sucking big hairy ass the last few years (when Sorkin left) was one of the best series.

So I wanted to watch Studio 60. It is just starting to air now here. The bittersweet thing is it was canceled in the US – but I figured I would watch it anyway.

Judd Hirsch just had his Network “I’m mad as hell moment”:

Ah, It’s not going to be a very good show tonight. I think you should change the channel. Right, right now. No, I know that it seems that this is supposed to be funny, but tomorrow, tomorrow you’re going to find out it wasn’t and ah, by that time I will have been fired. No this, this is not, this is not a sketch.

This show, used to be cutting edge political and social satire. But it has gotten lobotomized by a candy-assed broadcast network hell bent on doing nothing that might- challenge their audience. We’re about to do a sketch you’ve seen already about 500 hundred times. Yeah, nobody is going to confuse George Bush with George Plimpton, no we get it. We’re ALL being lobotomized, by this countries most influential industry, that’s just thrown in the towel to do any endeavor to anything that doesn’t include the courting of twelve year-old boys. Not even smart twelve-year olds! The stupid ones! The idiots! Of which there are plenty thanks to no small measure to this network, so, why don’t you just. . . change the channel. Turn off your TVs do it right now, go ahead.

There’s always been a struggle between art and commerce, but now I’m telling you, art is getting its ass kicked. And its making us mean and its making us bitchy, It’s making us cheap punks! THAT’S NOT who we are. People are having contests to see how much they can be like Donald Trump? We’re eating worms for money. Who wants to screw my sister! Guys are getting killed in a war that’s got theme music and a logo?!

That remote in your hand is a crack pipe. Pornography! It’s not even good pornography, just this side of snuff films, and friends that is what is next, because that’s all that’s left. . . And the TWO things that make them scared gutless are the FCC and re-psycho religious cult that gets horny at the very mention of a boycott. . .

I am so fucking pissed that this show was cancelled.

So.

Not.

Fair.

posted by Thomas on Jul 25

I mentioned that I want to start lifting free weights again, so for my birthday I asked for a bench and that is what I received. Stuart had it shipped to his work, this big ridiculous heavy box that he could barely lift. It stayed in the office for a few weeks while he begged everyone he knew with a car to schlep it home until he eventually got a cab and brought it here last week. He said that he was allowed the delay since my birthday wasn’t until Monday and I am inclined to agree with him.

He took it out of the box this weekend and of course there were no instructions so he didn’t sit down to put it together until last night after they faxed them to him. I refused to tackle it. The exploded view scared me.

It was a huge pile of various size washers and bolts and bits and bobs. Stuart was on his 2nd beer wrestling with it when he said, “I don’t think this is fair. Why do I have to do this?”

“We can wait and ask your dad to do it.”

“That’s mean. I can do it. I can build things. I just don’t like to. I’m I.T..”

But he persevered. After a few hours it was all put together and it looks like it is supposed to and it looks safe.

“You better blog about how great I am for doing this.”

“Okay honey.”

“And I want sexual favours.”

“Okay sweetie.”

posted by Thomas on Jul 23

IMG_1026.JPG

Originally uploaded by treefrog girl.

*Click on the Tiki mask to see pictures from Friday night birthday drinks at South London Pacific. Had a wonderful time!*

So yeah. Today is my birthday. One year closer to death.

I love birthdays. Would love them more if they managed to take the whole getting older bit out of it. It was great Friday night when I was in the queue for Harry and the girl behind us was being self-deprecating about the fact she was 24 and here she was waiting to get a children’s book at 12:30 at night.

I said, “I know, I’m 37.”

She did a double take. “You’re 37? 37? Bloody hell.”

I can tell however if I don’t do something fast, those days of people doing a double take at hearing my age will be gone. Long time readers know I’ve gained 20 pounds in the last two years and London pub life is making my liver cry.

My birthday present (at my request) from Stuart was a weight bench. (He said I will be getting something else as well)

I’m going to start lifting free weights again, start walking and yoga again, start watching my diet again. I need to start treating my body with more respect.

In three years when I turn 40, I want jaws to drop.

I think that’s a rather good gift to myself.

posted by Thomas on Jul 22

My mate Mike Bunin was interviewed by Las Vegas Weekly and it is a nice little article.

Of course friends in Vegas have already tampered with the cover to make it look like a gay porn magazine.

That’s what friends are for.

posted by Thomas on Jul 21

There aren’t many things as satisfying as reading a good book on a rainy day and having a good cry over the end of a story ten years in the making.

I love the new book.

There is one secret that I had guessed back in book three (which makes me feel smug and smart and rather superior).

Now what am going to do with the rest of the day?

I think I may re-read it.

posted by Thomas on Jul 19

I couldn’t help myself. I was avoiding work by skimming the NY Times online and there was a review for the new Harry Potter by the venerable Michiko Kakutani.

I almost didn’t read it, but I got sucked in. I didn’t think she would detail important twists and turns- she is too good of a reviewer for that. Also I trusted her because I remember her review two years ago of the last HP and it is obvious that she loves the books so I knew she wouldn’t be evil. (I must say however. . . Pulitzer or not, I think she was a bit lazy for using the same line in this review as she did in the last: “. . .he is clearly more Henry V than Prince Hal, more King Arthur than young Wart.” Although it is a good line. I guess who can blame her for recycling it.)

I think people who derive joy by reveling plot points of stories are missing something in their soul.

Extreme? Maybe. I don’t care -bite me.

Funny true story. Couple of friends of mine were going to see a screening of Citizen Kane. One friend said to the other, “I’ve never seen this.” The other said, “Really? So you don’t know that Rosebud is —–”

The first friend nearly punched the 2nd friend in the teeth.

I was in a writers group of AFI alumnus right after graduation. The Sixth Sense had just come out and I had managed to squirrel myself away without hearing the big secret. The other members of the group were talking about it and I said, “I haven’t seen it. Going tomorrow, please don’t say what the secret is.”

They kept talking.

“Seriously guys. Could you just stop until I go? Please?”

And then one of the dip-shits in the group said what the secret was.

I still enjoyed the film, but it was a different experience for me.

I will never forgive that asswipe. I dropped out of the group I was so pissed.

Back to Harry. Thank you Michiko Kakutani for not ruining the story. I am terribly jealous that you have already know how it all ends.

I can’t wait to hide myself away Saturday.