Random writing

I was driving through Georgia Tech campus the other day.  It’s a route that is a monumental pain in the ass, but compared to the alternative routes to get on the other side of the connector sometimes, it really is the sad lesser of evils, as opposed to trying to traverse across North, Tenth, or Fourteenth streets.  What makes it such a pain in the ass though, is mostly the fact that all across campus, pedestrians have the eternal right of way, and since they’re all a bunch of college fucktards, they’re slow footed, and spaced perfectly apart to where drivers are merciless to stop them from clogging up the roads, allowing buildups of automotive congestion to build up.

This most recent story however, is a little bit of just desserts for the sadistic.  I was two cars removed from the front of the long line of cars waiting to get through a three-way intersection, before the next wave of pedestrians began crossing the street to clog up the road a bit longer.  Tailing them all was a typical douchebag* looking bicyclist, who smugly pedaled across the intersection, and then suddenly, he stopped.  He bent over, and I couldn’t see what he was doing, other than stalling in the middle of the intersection, and making us cars have to wait even longer.  Expletives flew from my lips, before I saw him walking his bicycle onto the sidewalk, where it was revealed that one of his bike pedals had inexplicably fallen off.

Hahahahaha.  What a loser.   That’s what he gets for being a bicycle douche.

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Strange Bathroom Antics of Pre-Wash Piss Jew-Fro

There’s this guy on my floor that I occasionally see in the men’s room. Normally, such encounters are negligible, and certainly not worth posting about, but this guy, I find quite puzzling.  Obviously by the way he dresses and presents himself, and the fact that he doesn’t look that old, I have to assume he’s a college student, doing whatever college students are often doing in this building.  He also has a big, exaggerated Jew-fro, and wears goofy lily white Forrest Gump-like sneakers, and the combination of such an appearance kind of sticks.  He kind of looks like a thinner, younger version of the Jewish professor member of Team USA in Beerfest.

So in spite of such an identifiable appearance, the last thing a guy like him needs is idiocentric behavior that makes him arouse the suspicion of others, or maybe it’s just me, or maybe I just feel like I need to have something to write about in order to pass the time.  But as mentioned, I’ve seen him in the men’s room a few times, as it’s one of the few common places that one might randomly encounter others.

I’ll cut to the chase – this guy washes his hands first, and then proceeds to do his business.  Cue me tilting my head ever-so slightly, like a dog when it hears something piercing and unusual.  That’s fine and all, if he wants to have his hands nice and pristine before handling his junk, but on more than one instance, I’ve noticed that he doesn’t wash his hands afterward.  He may have the cleanest private parts on the face of the planet, but for the sake of social acceptance, at least pretend to wash your fucking hands after defecating, for god’s sake.

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The masochistic art of the public decline

The other day, I got an Evite from my agency, inviting the talent pool out to a local eatery for an appreciation happy hour.  Personally, I like these things, because it’s a good way to network with my fellow designers, as well as the occasional former client, who may or may not inquire about my working status, and make nice-nice with the agents that it does me good to be on their good side, and the hopeful off-chance that there will be some attractive like-minded snarky design nerd girl that I can shamelessly flirt with.

Looking at the Evite, which was obviously sent to well over 100 people, the ratio of yes/maybe/no was easily 30/40/30%.  The yes responses are fairly simple, people exclaiming their looking forward to the event, if anything at all.  The maybe responses are a little more snooty, with people obviously being non-committal to the event as a whole, and probably seeing it as a third-option, in the event that nothing better comes along to consume two pre-dinner hours of the afternoon.  But it’s the no responses that I find the greatest amount of amusement in.  Whereas a lot of people are pretty short and to the point when saying yes or maybe, when it comes to saying no, all these designers, grunt workers and other snobs really need to let everyone else know why they can’t make it to this pedestrian, plebeian happy hour.

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A day in the life of 99.9999% of Korean men*

  • 0730 – Wake up
  • 0731 – Smoke
  • 0800 – Leave for work
  • 0801 – Smoke in car
  • 0820 – Get stuck in Atlanta traffic
  • 0821 – Smoke in frustration
  • 0855 – Arrive at work
  • 0900 – Smoke break
  • 0910 – Run into Korean co-worker on the way back in
  • 0911 – Don’t want buddy to smoke alone
  • 1000 – Starbucks walk
  • 1010 – Smoke on the way back
  • 1020 – Brush teeth in men’s room rid smoke breath
  • 1030 – Actual work
  • 1200 – Smoke break
  • 1230 – Lunch
  • 1230 – Smoking also
  • 1330 – Brush teeth again
  • 1335 – Work
  • 1500 – Smoke break
  • 1515 – Work
  • 1600 – Smoke break
  • 1615 – Realize it’s past 4pm, phone in day, go smoke
  • 1700 – Leave
  • 1700 – Smoke on the way to the car
  • 1710 – Get stuck in Atlanta traffic
  • 1711 – Smoke in frustration
  • 1735 – Victory smoke in getting out of traffic
  • 1800 – Arrive home
  • 1805-2200 – Eat dinner, polish off pack of smokes, etc

*does not include dannyhong

 

Fonts aren’t supposed to be sexy

For whatever reason, my work machine did not have Helvetica installed on it, I recently learned.  No big deal; all the fonts are housed on one of the many servers that this company uses, so I go to said folder labeled “Fonts,” only to discover that there are about 16 sub-folders, of equally ubiquitous titles.  While perusing through one of these folders, I scrolled past this file.  No, your eyes do not deceive you.

If this were a link to a website, I would most certainly have steered clear from examining this file.  But since whatever this is, is claiming to be a TrueType font, I couldn’t help but examine what the preview was going to generate.

Now I’m too lazy to go back and take a print-screen of the preview page, but I can assure you that it is indeed a typeface, albeit one nobody in their right mind would probably use.  Even sex sites and porn shops would have a hard time using such a typeface because as amusing as it is, aesthetically, it’s a pretty shitty font.  Google it yourself, if you’re curious.

Dear world

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.

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.

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