PowerPoint is not graphic design software, never has, and never will be. If you wish for me to work on PowerPoint for your companies, I will do such since I am a slave to the rat race, but know that making me do such, I will harbor legitimate hatred for you and your company. Fuck PowerPoint and fuck you too.
Tag: government
What’s douchier than people who drive BMW cars?
Guys who drive BMW motorcycles. There’s a guy in the office that needs to let everyone know that he drives a BMW motorcycle, indicative by the way he’s always wearing his fluorescent green BMW “air shell” jacket in the office, despite the fact that it’s 87 degrees in the City of Atlanta right now. And the way he perches his fluorescent green BMW helmet on the edge of his desk, so that everyone who walks by or looks down the corridor can see it, like a beacon of douchiness in the office. I have to imagine that when he’s in his full autocross get-up, he looks like a fucking lightning bug humping a football, or at least, like someone who ate something radioactive.
Needless to say, having been here for the last two months, I’ve got a fairly good grasp of the people who work here, and most importantly for the sake of conversation, the people I don’t really care for, and are capable of griping about in brog format. Furthermore, I’ve been here long enough to where I now feel entitled to gripe about my job, more so than when I was here, greener than Lex Luger.
Continue reading “What’s douchier than people who drive BMW cars?”
The importance of ass
It most certainly is important.
Unfortunately, this powerpoint isn’t really as entertaining as one so aptly titled might be, but even despite the forgone conclusion, I still couldn’t help but feel a tad hopeful that maybe it wasn’t just a coincidentally poor abbreviation as result of an egregiously long file name.
Lately, this work assignment’s been a little tedious. The person I work directly under is out for the next ten days or so, so I thought I might have it a little easy without concern of someone watching what I’m doing on the side behind my back. However, the traffic manager here recently retired, so there are about three different people bringing me work now, constantly interrupting me, and sniffing around over my shoulders, so such hopes for a relaxing work environment where I could do some substantial writing on the side are a bit dashed.
InDesOWNING
If only I could put into words just how awesome I feel about myself when it comes to my Adobe InDesign comprehension, and then put those words onto my resume and subsequent cover letters. I’d imagine I’d have not only a job, but a permanent Russian hooker underneath my desk for the rockstar ability I like to boast.
I’m fairly confident that I’ve already exceeded simply impressing my temporary peers with what I’ve demonstrated thus far, but after the events of today, I like to think that I may have convinced them that I’m like the grand weezard of InDesign here. In seven business days, I have improved upon templates developed in a time when Adobe PageMaker was the norm, and tackled three projects deemed “too tedious to do,” because of my InDesign knowledge.
Because of me, this place will no longer have to manually adjust final PDFs, and insert covers, legal pages, tables of contents into proper order, since I showed them how to section off pages within the ID documents and create proper sequential page numbering. Because of me, this company can actually justify throwing out their Adobe PageMaker installation disks that amazingly, they actually still have, and handed to me in preparation for the “too tedious to do” project. Little did they realize just how seamless a .PMD file converts into an ID format until shown by me.
Seriously, aside from the egregious boasting, self-high fiving, and literary fellating I’m giving myself, if any company that had a position that was purely InDesign based, and they passed up on me, they would legitimately be brain dead. Not just brain dead, but physically dead as result of becoming brain dead, and their corpse dug up, lobotomized, and having someone urinate on their dead brain before letting it rot for worms and crows. I’m that confident in my InDesign skillz.
Brogging of the mundane
Burglary update
I finally managed to get a hold of the Fulton County prosecutor aide in regards to the thugs that tried to rob my home back in October. Honestly, given the lack of effort exerted by the county, I figured that I had heard the last of them after the initial arrest of the hoods. I called every number and contact I was given, with no response. In fact, I had to hound this person in order to respond to a letter they had sent to me. Apparently wanted to let me know that their bond pleas have been denied a second time, and one more denial, and then they’re going to actual, court-court. But it’s comforting to know that since their arrest back on October 27th, they’ve been in jail since.
An amazing thing happened to me today
I went to the DMV, and I was in and out of there in literally less than five minutes. Absolutely, unfathomably, inconceivable.
Seriously, I walked inside, and there was no line, so I was immediately ushered to the information booth where I was given a number for my circumstances (renewing tag), along with the invoice. I sat down and pulled out my checkbook, and began writing “City of Atlanta Tax Commis-” and then my number is called. Dumbfounded, I sit down in front of the lady behind the glass, as she looks at me impatiently as I fill out the rest of my check. I tear the check off, give it to her, and she gives me my new 2010 blue tag sticker, and I’m literally like “that’s it?” and, unamused, she looks back at me, and responds “that’s it.” And then I’m back out the door.
It took me four times longer to drive to and from the place than it did to get my tags renewed.
Otherwise, life is, still pretty weary these days. I haven’t found faith yet, but I have been strangely less inclined to blurt out “GOD DAMN IT” and other supposed blasphemous terms. Yet the most extreme of my actions was that I was in my car listening to an old CD, and when Marilyn Manson’s The Fight Song came on, and the lyrics where it goes “I’m not a slave, to a god, that doesn’t exist,” I instinctively skipped the rest of the track. For some reason, it just doesn’t feel appropriate to be listening to that, lately.