May 8, 2001 at 10:03 am
(meh)
AitchArrgh!! So now, my woundup bossman has a skranky new intern, uh, I mean “HR Coordinator,” who I predict will last six months. Only a couple of weeks into her gig with a LARGE ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY and what does she do when she cancels a meeting in Outlook? *Calls* me on the freaking *phone* and leaves a message asking when I’m free! Hel-LOOO! THen I’m being asked to proxy for my boss in a meeting that has ze-ro to do with me, has another ‘team member’ going who *does* have ‘zee infohmation zey need,’ and I (oopsy) let slip to my boss’ moll that my presence at this little gathering would be only a token presence. Not peecee, in the company of the underrepresented, to use the phrase ‘token.’ Oh freakin’ well.
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May 3, 2001 at 2:55 pm
(meh)
Oh, and guess what. My boss is going golfing. I should really think about taking up golf again if I want to get ahead politically here, but I have to ‘fess up that my only real motivation would be the opportunity to whack the hell out of a little ball with a metal club - I’m thinking five-iron… and I’m imagining the uses one could put one of those I-Cameras with sticky film to in redecorating the balls to provide the most motivation for clearing 300 yards. I just don’t think I could get any of my co-workers to pose long enough to get good mug shots. Sigh.
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May 3, 2001 at 2:24 pm
(meh)
So we’re all getting our butts creamed trying to get some stupid-ass marketing web app into production, live and in color, by 8:00 p.m. tonight but the developers are still working on the freaking code. Mind you, I work for a bank, not a dot-com, so the whole code-and-play-with-people’s-money-on-the-fly thing isn’t really supposed to be done around here… and we’re trying to get virtual servers set up to host the aforementioned stupid-ass app, and two of the guys on my team who are helping me with the SSL crap suddenly segue into this whole debate about the relative merits of Emeril vs. the “Italian guy who eats Italy”and their competitive 2-year old fruitcake hijinks. Apparently there’s a whole cult following among 30-something married men who watch the Food Channel. Who knew? So I just got treated to a blow-by-blow rundown of how the arrogant Italian chef snubbed Emeril’s Christmas cooking special. Whew! Boy am I glad I wasn’t watching that day or I would’ve given that Italian dude what-for! It’s probably better if I stick to bass-fishing shows for my viewing excitement: the eons-old battle between man and beast, the turmoil of once-serene waters raging with the reflection of a beautiful wild creature’s desperate flopping about for air, the violent churning of those itty-bitty bass fishing boat engines with their cute little propellors… ahem. Or bowling. Bowling’s nice. With beer. Lots of beer.
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May 2, 2001 at 4:00 pm
(meh)
Just wanted to say howdi and I’m still alive and twitching. I’ll get way the hell ahead with every goddamned this this weekend sweat to god cross my heart bra and all that three-fingered salute kind of stuff and get some stuff posted…
**posting from the Cube-Front**
I’m stuck on an incredibly boring conference call about the project that kept me here and awake in a Dawn-of-the-Dead kind of way until 3:00 a.m. this morning, but the upside is that everybody else on the call is so bored that they can’t hear me snoring. So bored they’ve gone deaf with boredom. Hoo ha! I’d even fart into the phone at them to demonstrate my utter boredom, but the guy in the next cubicle over is prone to high-pitched giggling fits, and it’s kinda like a dog whistle in one’s ear, if one were a dog (I’m imagining that dog whistles are highly annoying to dogs, not just because of the auditory irritation, but because it means that they are once again obligated to participate with forced enthusiasm in a round of fetch or sit-up-and-beg-good-boy. And we wonder why they attack our young.)
In the meanwhile, here’s a little spot of cynicism I grokked off of Salon.com:
*Spec script: Something you write on your own impetus that you hope someone will buy.
*High Concept: A story concept that you can describe in 10 words or less (since most studio execs have the attention span of a Halloween pumpkin but aren’t nearly as bright). Example: “I see dead people.”
*Producer: An entity (not necessarily human) who makes it possible for your spec script to be purchased by the studios.
*Studio Exec: Another entity (see Producer) who takes your script up the studio’s corporate ladder to the people who may ultimately make it into a movie. (If their mochachinos turn out just right every morning between the time they smell the script to the time film goes in the can.)
Ha. Now I know everything I need to know about how to get ahead in Hollywood.
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