It’s not every day that the Universe opens up it’s e-purse and delivers a box of unsolicited evidence from the Bygone Days.
Here, recently-discovered photodocumentation of one of Our Finest Hours–the fabled “Let’s Get Laid Off” party, thrown in the summer of 2002.
The basics: Casey got laid off; Casey and Geoff got drunk and dreamstormed a party full of worky catch-phrases, theme cakes and take-home prizes; invitations were e-mailed; people were confused/concerned (“Are Casey and Geoff ok?”); and, eventually, a good time was had by all.
Here, a rundown of the best of the shirting:
I’m In Charge of the In-Box
Don’t Tell Me How To Do My Job
Effective Immediately: No Sweats
I wonder what’s inside that danish.
I hear there’s cake on floor three.
Company Parking Isn’t a Joke
Personally and Professionally, I’m Disappointed
As of 4 p.m. today, that’s not my problem
Personal Use of the Internet Is Not Company Policy
Expense account this.
All I know is I come to work… That’s all I know
Not pictured (sadly): the “We’ll Really Miss Seeing You Around the Office” sheet cake.
Behold, the most terrific birthday present of all time–for real–which arrived in my actual mailbox today.
Note that it came with a companion sash that reads, simply, “Asshole”– for use in times of shame and/or lesser optimism. Instructions for appropriate wear-ability were also included.
Well done, Austin bureau. And thousand thanks.
(Thanks B. Walker of the W. Coast bureau.)
Came in late this morning to find this stickied to my computer.
That BM is learning.
I’m not totally sure that it’s acceptable to blog about children and cuteness inside of this bloghosphere/safespace, but the existence of this document was too Totally Awesome to pass up.
Last year for Christmas, Tracks and I decided to be instigators and buy Sully (age 6) a bona fide, legit, kid-size drum kit–snare, kick drum, cymbals, the works. Predictably, it was the loudest thing in the land and somewhere around mid-January, the sticks “disappeared.”
Below, transcript from his school journal. (Please pay special attention to the illustration of the face-melting rock-and-roll band at the top, complete with hand-standing fan on the far right.)
This one’s a little hard to explain, but bare with me.
I checked my work junkmail for the first time in months today, and found this mysterious piece of frustration art sitting in there with the simple subject line, “My boredom.” At first inspection, it was apparent only that it came from a camera phone, was sent sometime in early October, and had been taken somewhere inside of my office. I had to look up the phone number on the phone to realise it came from my Bossman.
Ponderously, he never said a word to me about this–that the photo was taken, that it was sent… that he was bored that day, even. But something about that conference call made him decide that his boredom needed to be documented, transformed into a Workingman’s Still-Life.
And this is the essence of science.
The 8th-grade boy who lives in my head has been giggling for two hours. I’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon contemplating the “side.”
You usually can’t find meals named this pornographically outside of a poorly-translated Chinese take-out menu.
Please enjoy a truly skillfully-executed piece of science, as documented by local bloggerman Jim, roomie of YB and Friend of the Devil. A better example of the spirit of My Diary has never been written.
Well played, indeed.
