Friday is the New Monday
Only six days into the new year, and here it is already Friday. The ManFaq is gone (Long Live the ManFAQ), but I needed something to while away the empty, sleepless hours and keep the darkness at bay. You’re all used to seeing something here on Fridays, and I’m so used to posting something here on Fridays that I figured, why not?
And so a new feature was born: The Big Ugly Horoscope. Fridays around noon, assuming this server and I ever agree on what timezone we’re working with, you’ll have a chance to catch up with your own personal astroilogical future for the weekend and next week – your daily dose of destiny under your sign. I’m sure you can’t wait.
We’ll see how it goes for a few months; if it sucks or I get bored with it, we’ll find something else to do – if it’s OK, we’ll give it the year. Let me know. As for the first one, though, you’re on:
Aries (The Ram): You might be all that, but if you don’t stop basking in your own awesomeness, you’re never going to get that proposal finished. Shut up and listen to yourself. Hear that? That’s the sound of you procrastinating, you lazy slug. Why are you still reading this? Get to work!
Taurus (The Bull): You know the difference between laid-back and passive-aggressive? Yeah, I’ll just bet you do. I used to drive a Taurus, and you know what? It was a lemon. I traded it in. For a pack of gum.
Gemini (The Twins): You know you want it. This week, you’re going to get it. Be ready.
Cancer (The Crab): The Sagittarius two offices down from you wants your job and will stop at nothing to get it. They’re already sleeping with the boss. Cover your ass next week, or start surfing Monster.com. I’m just sayin’.
Leo (The Lion): Oh geez. Are you really going to wear that tonight? Was it on sale or something?
Virgo (The Virgin): Perhaps it would be best if you said nothing at all. This would be a good week to keep your pie hole shut. Capisce?
Libra (The Scale): You’re going to be invited to dinner this weekend, but you’re not going to go. You’re going to think about that invitation, wondering who else would have been there, while you’re heating up that shitty microwave diet food and feeling good about not drinking that beer that you know is in the downstairs fridge. It’s all OK. They’re having a lousy time anyway, and you going wouldn’t have helped. That restaurant sucks; they’ll never go back, and they’ll ask you on Tuesday how you knew. Don’t tell them you hate them. Just smile.
Scorpio (The Scorpion): Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there. No need to go all ninja on people just because you can. Last week was bad, but it’s over. Put it behind you, and next week try to keep the body count to a minimum. Zero is a good goal. Your lucky numbers are 13 and Pi.
Sagittarius (The Archer): I know what you did last summer.
Capricorn (The Sea-Goat): It’s your birthday, all week this week! Party on, Garth. Party on, Wayne. This is a good week to invest in that bullshit scheme your brother-in-law keeps trying to get you to give him money for. Party on.
Aquarius (The Water Bearer): OK Gunga Din, time to get serious about that degree. You can only fake it and make it on your looks for so long, and you’re what? 72? 73? If you ever want to be more than just “that guy who used to carry the bucket” you’re going to need to find some self-discipline.
Pisces (The Fish): Why does it always come down to sushi? You’ve got some kind of sick, cannibalistic death-wish, don’t you? Are you still masturbating? Next week’s not a good week to stop. The week after that doesn’t look too good either. You’re not going to get laid so much as get hooked. Deal with it.
In Becoming the Man
With the New Year there has been a spate of out with the olde and in with the new. So, out with the olde and rather unpleasant job and like all good little mercenaries (this term evokes some rather entertaining reactions, and like all things bureaucratic is obfuscated by the preferred term, “contractor”) inside our nation’s beltway, I too have switched to a higher-paying customer with work that is slightly gentler and kinder in a large number of ways. This said, one of the new changes is that I’ve become part of that group that for years I’ve riled against (having taught many how to actually do their respective positions many times before). Be very careful what you wish for, my dearie ducks, you might very well, … well, you know… “Management,” a word that in my mind usually was preceded by Mr. Adam’s, “Pointy-Haired” or by far less flattering descriptors from the British side of the pond. Had a few episodes of sounding like Lil’ John (lot’s of, “what,” finally ended with an, “ok”) especially in the new and improved numbers of meetings which I am attending each day (especially when my co-workers are off on vacation). At least there weren’t any, “Ren and Stimpy” or “Beavis and Butt-head” impressions or absurdist re-enactments during these said meetings (and there are an over-abundance of them, I’m discovering). Though I am discovering that some of my fellow mercenaries from other companies can be quite “interesting” in how they formulate their contracts with their respective clients, which should then generate several more exasperated questions of, “what?!?!?” Though like insurance company and financial institution regulation (along with common sense) the, “ok” is sorely lacking in many of those conversations.
Here’s to not making a change, but instead making a dent… Our documentation has significantly improved as has our efficiency, … a sergeant’s work is never done…
This coming week, I’ll be starting up full-time (at least for this semester) on finishing off the degree, in order to get back on topic, here.
Off to go see an adaptation of a favorite Alec Guiness TV show, and the books were incredible, I might add, because we are still living in a Wilderness of Mirrors even if the parts have changed…
You bet they have, Custard. Go get ’em. Welcome to the club, BTW – it’s a one-way tie, and once you’ve mastered that full Windsor, you never get to take it off. Cling tight to your core incompetencies and swing for the fences.
Good luck!
Have to admit that I prefer a Half-Windsor, though thankfully I don’t work for a Pratt, though I’m quite convinced that some of my developers most definitely are… Pardon the pun. At least there aren’t any meetings to have meetings, yet.
Oh, and my hair has not gone all pointy… Still getting longer…