The man was so good at playing with his baton,
he called it "maestro-bating".
Under the "Freedom of Information Act" and the "Federal Privacy Act" of 2001, I understand that my work performance is being evaluated. I have the right to examine and copy any documentation. I have the right to review and discuss differences in order to resolve them and I have the right to request amendments to and/or modifications of any document.
|Name:||Date of Review:|
|[ ]|| |
The son of a bitch really knows their shit
|[ ]|| |
Knows just enough to be dangerous.
|[ ]|| |
Only has half a brain and is dangerous.
|[ ]|| |
Brain damaged. Their coffee cup has a higher IQ.
|[ ]|| |
Does excellent work, if not preoccupied with Facebook.
|[ ]|| |
Pretty good; only occasionally blows it out their ass.
|[ ]|| |
Has to take off shoes to count higher than ten.
|[ ]||Couldn't count their balls and get the same answer twice.|
|[ ]||Extremely cooperative (kisses ass frequently).|
|[ ]||Pretty good brown nose, but in poor standing.|
|[ ]||Often piss off co-workers; thinks it's their job.|
|[ ]||Doesn't give a shit. Never did. Never will.|
|[ ]||Really a dependable little cocksucker.|
|[ ]||Can rely on them at evaluation time.|
|[ ]||Can rely on them to be the first out the door at 5:00.|
|[ ]||Totally fucking worthless.|
|[ ]||Extremely neat. Even combs their pubic hair.|
|[ ]||Looks great at evaluation time.|
|[ ]||Dirty, filthy, smelly son of a bitch.|
|[ ]||Flies abandon fresh dog shit to swarm around them.|
|[ ]||Goes like a son of a bitch if there's money in it.|
|[ ]||Does okay around evaluation time.|
|[ ]||Works only if kicked in the ass every two minutes.|
|[ ]||Couldn't do less work if they were in a coma.|
|[ ]||Carries a chainsaw and gets good results.|
|[ ]||Occasionally gets told to go fuck themselves.|
|[ ]||Mother Theresa would have told them to go fuck themselves.|
|[ ]||Couldn't lead a pack of hungry wolves to raw meat.|
|I understand that I have been evaluated and know my rights under the "Privacy Act of 2001". I further acknowledge that I am as useless as pockets in your underwear, and will attempt to correct my deficiencies.|
Back in the days before email spam, when fax spam ruled the world, I got a glommed onto a copy of this performance evaluation. I updated it a little, but opted to leave the language.
Now, go rate your co-workers and have a fun Friday.
Sunday wrapped up Cora's last unsupervised visit to Chicago. You read that right, Sunday was the LAST TIME Cora will be visiting me in Chicago, alone. Due to the logistics of the wedding and everything, Cora and her daughter, Gwen (our chaperone), will be visiting in April and that is it. After that, the next time she comes to Chicago will not me as a visit, it will be coming home.
So Sunday was an interesting day. After such an active Friday & Saturday, Sunday was a little tame. Sure, we decided on the wording for the invitations and all, but really, we just more or less hung out. Lunch at the place on the corner. A nice walk around the park. But then it came time for packing and leaving and smooching and sadness. But first a quick trip to The Container Store.
For no real purpose, other than I love the place, shop there a lot, and while there is one a few towns north of her, Cora had never been in one. Oh, and it got us on the road without completely being about going to that dang airport.
But, we eventually found ourselves at the airport, bag checked, and a few minutes of privacy before Cora had to head down the security lane. As I was heading to my car, I got an email asking me if I would be able to get on a conference call @ 7:00 for work. I was racing home, and kept checking the clock. I was going to be late. Maybe 5 minutes. Should I pull off and call from a parking lot? Should I just dial in late? Then I remembered the clock in my car was 6 minutes fast. I made it to the call with a minutes to spare.
And was on it until 11:30. Somewhere in there, I got a call. I flipped over on call-waiting, and heard Cora say, "I'm in Omaha." But she will tell you about that.
Oh wait, maybe not so much.
At the crack of dawn, we called my friend, Becky, who will be officiating our wedding. She's a dear friend of mine from college, and "yes" she is an ordained minister in a "real church", not an "internet church". We cuddled up on the couch with Becky on speaker phone and went though the pick list of the ceremony options, and got advice from someone who has officiated a lot of weddings. And this was the first time Becky and Cora have met.
After the phone call, we got cleaned up, and made a little lunch.
Other tasks were checked off the "To Do List" too:
[X] Decided on the menu for the reception. Salmon & Prime Rib.
[X] Took a practice first spin around the dance floor. I think we did pretty good with the spins and twirls, but we'll need to practice the dips.
[X] Exchanged a shirt @ Men's Warehouse that I got at Christmas
[X] Looked @ tuxedoes @ Men's Warehouse – Where's the ruffles?
[X] Looked at dressers @ Aurhaus Furniture – For Cora's frilly unmentionables.
[X] Began our wedding registry.
We wrapped up the evening (well, the parts that YOU get to hear about) at home, snuggled back up on the sofa, watching The Hangover.
And this a bit of the scene that made me laugh so hard I cried. "Not you, 'Fat Jesus'."
So, last Friday, my lovely lady Cora landed in town about 1:00 in the afternoon. It was a short weekend trip, so it was time for us to GET BUSY!
Before we GOT BUSY, we needed sustenance to power us through. So, we popped in to Miller's Pub. It's a classic old school restaurant where the napkins are cloth, and there's a greeter at the door.
I had the catfish (I mentioned that it was Friday during Lent, right?) and Cora had the Asian Chicken Salad. Cora did try a bit of mine. Being a West Coast girl raised on real seafood, Midwestern pond raised catfish was is not a common fish choice.
And then it was time for us to GET BUSY! We entered an establishment designed for her pleasure, New York Jewelers.
But we didn't go shopping for wedding rings. We BOUGHT wedding rings! Cora must have tried on 20 rings. The saleslady kept bringing out new rings and new rings, but none of them could bump the first ring off her finger for long. Then it was my turn. Not as many options, but I picked kind of a modern ring that is hammered white gold in the inner, and bright yellow gold on the outer. The rings had to get resized, so it will be about 2 weeks or so before we get them. And if you think I'm going to show you a picture of Cora's wedding ring before she posts the picture, you must think I'm a ijit.
After the jewelers, we tried to GET BUSY again but we ended up in the principal's office. We tried to get a last second tour of Gwen's future school, but it was late on a Friday, well after school hours, and while we made it into the office, we didn't get a tour. But it wasn't a complete loss. Cora did buy two dark chocolate almond bars.
After all the GETTING BUSY, we finally got home to relax for a minute before heading out for dinner: Bob Chinn's Crabhouse. It's about 30 minutes north of me. 45 minutes if you screw up and head north on I-94 not I-294 so you have to drive all the way across on Willow Road. But I saved a toll that way. When we got there, I dropped Cora at the door and parked the car. By the time I got in, she had snagged our number, and we headed into the bar to wait for our number to be called. I had myself a tasty, tasty tiki of Mai Tai. Cora was underwhelmed by it, and preferred the on She's had at the Drysdale Awards. Cool! More for me!
After our dinners of pan seared tilapia and king crab legs and dessert of a huge chocolate muffin covered with soft serve ice cream and chocolate sauce. And yes, Callista, Cora shared a dessert with me.
And then it was time to get home, and after a long day of GETTING BUSY, to GET SOME SLEEP!
I've got a couple little stories that are not worthy, on their own, of rightfully honoring the ideals of the mighty Thor on his sacred day. But as a tag team pair, I think these two show a little enough muscle to do the big guy proud.
You Can Call Me "Mike"
I have one last story from my last trip out to see Cora. And with her showing up in about 31 hours from when this posts, I figure now is the time to roll it out.
Saturday evening, we met her mom & daughter out at Olive Garden. We got our table, and our young Asian (I have no idea his specific ethnic background) waiter introduced himself: "You can call me 'Mike'," he said. What? I can't let that slide. I had to ask.
"You said that we can call you 'Mike'? What's your actual name? Turns out 'Michael' was his MIDDLE name. And his first name? 'Edward'. Call me a racist bastage, but I was expecting something a little more exotic than 'Edward Michael".
But he was totally rocking this for a belt buckle.
Because I'm An Idiot
Tuesday, I had a doctor's appointment first thing in the morning. Because I'm an idiot, I made sure I took my wallet out of my pant and put it in my murse, so I wouldn't lose it at the doctor's office.
Fast forward to lunch time. I ran out to a little diner, and had a cup of cream of chicken soup and a cheese burger. I got the bill, $12.00, and reached into my right rear pocket. EMPTY.
"You keep a $20 bill tucked in with your train pass." I checked and sure enough it was there. Whew!
Then I had a thought: You're a guy.
So I reached into my front right pocket, and pulled out $15 in crumpled up bills. Just enough for the bill, the tip, and a buck to spare!
White Trash Wednesday is brought to you by, well, HELLFIRE if I know. I thunk-up the name on the way home. I'm sure there are bloggers out there showing RESPECK for the NECK, but I wreck'n they won't mind too much if I take the idear out fer a spin. If that doesn't say, "White Trash", I don't know what does.
What do you have around the house the just screams "White Trash!"?
There's an old saying in our industry, "No use crying over spilled oil." So when one of our tankers happened to have a little accident a while back, we didn't waste time criticizing and pointing fingers! We put on our waders and went fishing – determined to turn this "problem" into and opportunity for you, the American consumer! May we introduce, "NUMBER ONE" ALASKAN SALMON!
It's incredibly cheap, it's probably as nourishing as anything else you're eating these days, it's no worse than that mercury-laced tuna a few years back, and oh, that taste!
I was going thru a folder last night, and I ran across this gem from around 20 years back. It's from a play bill of some kind, maybe Penn & Teller. Honestly, I have no idea. It hung in my cube at my first job for YEARS. It's one of those things that you forget about for years, but the instant you see it, it make you smile.
I'm a bit of an Olympic nut. I love watching them. Especially the weird, freaky events that I don't get to see a whole lot of regularly. And that really comes through in the winter Olympics.
OPENING CEREMONIES – Was stuck at work late, and totally missed them. But since they aren't really SPORTS, I didn't really mind. But I did get to see the video of the cauldron malfunction. And there stood Canadian speed skater, Catriona Le May Doan, as the literal fourth wheel. While Wayne Gretzky, Steve Nash, and Nancy Greene got to light the flame, Catriona got to stand there like a putz. But the Canadians made up for it, by letting her light the outdoor one across town. Nope, Gretzky got to light that one, too.
WINNERS & LUGERS – Coming off the pre-Olympic tragedy of a death in training, watching this event was a real bummer. Mostly because they wouldn't stop talking about it. And while they didn't show the video, they did talk to the dead man's father about the video. (He says he hasn't seen it and isn't going to watch it.)
But the real focus of Saturday night was Apolo Anton Ohno's speed skating. He did a great job in the prelims, and the semis, but was totally out of it in the finals. Coming out of the last turn, he was in 4th place, behind 3 South Korean skaters.
The third place Lee Ho-suk totally screwed over his teammate Sung Si-bak taking them both down to the ice. With two of the three South Koreans bouncing off the sideboards, Ohno skated to silver and American J. R. Celski snatch the bronze.
WOMEN'S MOGULS – This had nothing to do with Martha Stewart. And Canada failed to win it's first home gold when the last skier of the competition took the gold. This mean that we get to hear this bit of sob story for a bit longer. (Until the men's moguls on Sunday night. Now we can drop this story line? Please?)
THAT'S A SPORT? – For those of you who thought that a biathalon was like a triathalon without the swim came this cross country / shooting combo event. In this effed up sport, you can hit the target, but if you don't hit the middle of the target, you have to take a penalty lap. Shooting one of your competitors earns you two penalty laps. And then 3 to 5 in Olympic Jail.
This should not be confused with the "Nordic Combined". No, it's not picking up a Swedish and a Norwegian hottie for a Jacuzzi threesome (that's a different type of "game"). No, this is where people ski-jump and then cross country ski. I say you combine the three bits into one sport, where the ski jumper is shooting skeets as they are flying through the air. (The US finished 2nd & 4th in an fairly exciting race, winning the team's first medal in the event in ever.)
OVER A BARREL – And with those sports in the Olympics I cannot see why this former staple of ABC's Wide World of Sports isn't an Olympic event.
For the first time in 44 years, I have a girlfriend on Valentine's Day.
For the 44th time in 44 years, I will be alone on Valentine's Day.
But don't cry too many tears for me. My Valentine will be arriving next Friday.
The Teach and I had been dating for 6 months, and I was saving up for an engagement ring. As we got closer to Valentine's Day, I search through catalogs for the perfect gift. Hey, this was like, early '91. The internet wasn't really a "thing" yet.
I decided on CHOCOLATE.
Teach got the present in the mail, and broke up with me on Feb. 6, just a week before Valentine's Day. She claims the two things weren't connected. To this day, I'm not sure I believe her.
Yeah. As Milton Snavely Hershey as my witness, yes, I sent her a chocolate pig.
It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known. – A Tale of Two Cities.
Blogs are born.
Usually in obscurity.
Sometimes they fade away.
Sometimes they say "Good-bye."
And sometimes they they are reborn.
Oh, not blog. Relax. You aren't getting rid of me THAT easy. No, I'm talking about our good friend the iNDefatigable mjenks. Tomorrow he's shutting down A Crown of Thistles where he has a tonne followers. Where are you going to go for things getting all blown up on Tuesdays, too much information on Thursday, and your dose of Latin on Friday?
Don't look at me. Look at him.
He's started up a new blog. If you've been following him, but haven't made the switch, what are you waiting for? And if you haven't been over to his place, you owe it to yourself to pay him a visit or two.
What's his new blog called?
I think he named it "Vital Beavis" or something like that. It must be Latin for something.
So go over to his NEW BLOG and tell him "Hi".
(Picture from 'The Norm' comic)
Saturday I worked on sending out "Save The Date" emails for the upcoming wedding.
- I put together a graphic that looked like what we think invitations will look like.
- I composed a short short little bit of text.
- I added a photo of Cora and I.
- I assembled the email list into sets, and fired them off
And that is the instant Atë (Greek goddess of ruin, folly, delusion) stepped in and farted in my general direction and called me the son of a motherless goat.
Every email I sent out was garbled on the first try. Sometimes on the second, too.
Don't believe me? Check out some of the mangling:
Okay, this one's not so bad. The water is green with envy.
But this is serious, you can mess with me, but don't touch my lady!
This next one only uploaded partially. I guess it wanted to keep 'em guessing.
And this one wanted to make them read between the lines.
This one is a little shifty…
And I really hope this one didn't make people think we were having a rainbow themed wedding.
And before you ask, "Where's mine?" It, ummmmm, must have gotten lost in the doggone internets must have Atë it.
Call it "The Big Game" – Due to very stringent NFL licensing and trade mark rules, if you are not an official corporate sponsor, using "Super" and "Bowl" together will wind you in court faster than giving
Charlie Sheen a monkey a bottle of tequila and a can of spray paint.
Do NOT call it "American Football" – Yes, we get that soccer is called "futball" in the rest of the world. Get over it. We let your girlie "futball" players kick field goals and look like sissies when they have to try to tackle a real "football" player, what more do you want?
If your team isn't in it, root for the Saints – I figure is New Orleans wins, Sass will be happy, and isn't that really all this life is about anyway? Also, they would it give them something to talk about instead of the hurricane. Seriously, people, that's old news. Haitians are the new "IT" face of disaster.
Just thank whatever God or gods you worship that "Up With People" aren't doing this year's show. And there's always the Lingerie Bowl VII over on the Pay-per-View.
Healthy snacks – Communist and French-esque people will try to convince you that you should "snack smart" during the game. Hey, they can have their baby carrot sticks if they want, that just leaves more 'lil Smokies wrapped in bacon and covered in caramelized brown sugar for me. Or as Gwen of EILCC calls them, "Fat Fat Sugar".
Don't miss the ads – While many of the ads suck rocks or are too "high concept" to really work well, you won't want to miss what a lot of people will be talking about tomorrow. So, to avoid missing part of the game or the commercials, I strongly urge you to run out to Walmart right now and pick up a package of Depends undergarments.
Hey, why should the incontinent get to watch the E*TRADE babies while you are in line for the pisser? That's what I'm sayin'.
From the Onion Archives:
Depends Ain't So Damn Dependable
By Lenny Gramsched
November 19, 1997 | Issue 32•16
Lately, I've been getting pretty tired of having to change my pants constantly. It's no fun having to go put on a pair of fresh trousers every time a dog barks or a door slams too loud.
So, the other day, I was watching TV in the nursing home's rec room when one of those Depends commercials came on. You know, the ones with the happy-looking gray-haired couples riding bicycles. They seemed to really be enjoying the diapers, so, figuring it was worth a shot, I headed over to the local Walgreens and picked myself up a 12-pack.
(Click HERE for full story.)
I was going to tell you a tale about watching movies and hunting for wedding invitations. About meeting with Cora's ex, and about having Olive Garden & Coldstone ice cream with her mother and her daughter.
But I'm not.
Or not today.
Here is all I want to say today…
All right, I'm back. I'll shape up and fly right.
As I started to say back HERE…
After the matinee and lunch, Gwen, Cora, and I went to view the wedding site again, and meet with the coordinator, Cassi. As we talked to her about the general plan, we were in for a bit of a shock: it appears that we are getting about double the indoor space that we thought. We had no idea we were getting the upper room for dining.
And unlike when we were there the first time, I didn't forget to take pictures.
The place is gorgeous. We aren't really going to have to decorate it all that much. Why waste money on decorations, when no one will be able to take their eyes off my stunning bride?
And as always, Cora and I made some on the spot decisions with comfort and ease. But every question we answered seemed to raise more detailed questions. But those are even easier to tackle. Mere details. Focusing on the big picture. And the wedding is just a detail. An important detail, but a detail.
The big picture isn't GETTING married to Cora.
The big picture is BEING married to Cora.
After that meeting, we went back to Cora's house, where her mom joined us briefly for dinner.
We wrapped up the evening with the Gwen and I the sofa making a "Cora sammich" while watching Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean I & II. Good flicks. I hadn't seen them before. Johnny Depp seemed to be having a lot of fun hamming it up.
Oh, and don't give me attitude about movies I haven't seen. Do you know my bride-to-be has never seen the two greatest "House" movies of all time? I am of course speaking of "Animal House" and "Road House".
Obviously, we both have some gaps in out cinematic resumes.
I awoke Friday in Seattle. Snuggled up with my fiancée, and went back to sleep a little longer. Then awoke again. Re-snuggled. Napped again. Finally we got out of bed and had some breakfast.
I don't know if you have heard of it, but it is a movie by the guy who directed Piranha Part Two: The Spawning. It's a movie about how bad corporations are. How bad humans are. And how the love children of the Smurfs and Bushmen of the Kalahari. The Bushmen get their tree house blown up by the bad corporate goons. Since that was the obvious end of the movie, we got up and left. What? Huh? The savages recovered, rallied, and achieved a victory that appeared unobtanium-able? Man! I didn't see THAT coming.
After the movie, we went to the Subway in the mall. I had a foot long tuna sub. Were you aware that tuna can have the "Asparagus Effect"? Don't worry, it faded by Sunday. But that first waft is always a surprise.
After lunch, we… to be continued, when I'm in a more serious mood.
Stupid 4 hour flight taking me 2000 miles away from Cora.
Stupid 3 train "L" trip, plodding along, when I just want to get home.
Stupid gloves hiding from me.
Stupid 10 minute walk in the dark from the train station to my condo in 20 degree temps with no gloves.
Stupid empty condo, devoid of the life and love at her house.
Stupid cold, empty bed without her in it.
Stupid alarm clock waking me up without her snuggled up next to me.
Glorious shower sending cascades of water down on my head instead of dribbling off my chest.
Stupid razor blade, erasing the weekend's stubble.