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"Notmydesk is NOT in the same league as temp24-7.com (temp24-7.com has an alliance with net-temps and actual temp resources for Christ sakes). To compare notmydesk to temp24-7.com is like comparing a kid with an etch-a-sketch to DREAMWORKS"  --excerpt from the message board
 
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12-14-01 -  Coming Attacktions

So, an interesting little outburst on the message board.  Yay!  I'll be tackling this in full next week, as it is late and I'm too pooped to do it right now.  Should be fun!  It's rare I get dissed so heartily, and I'm excited.  Many things will addressed, such as:

1) Why I hate temp24-7.com.

2) Why they suck.

3) Why I rule.

4) Why they are total wieners.

5) Why the person who posted bad stuff about me is a wank.

I've actually been meaning to broach the topic of T24-7's suckiness for some time, so this gives me a good excuse!  Thanks, wank!

In other news, the Diversion from this week (Reflections) has been removed from the net, as several readers helpfully pointed out.  It was just too damn popular.  This stinks, mainly because I was up to level 20.  Ah, well.  Why can't I ever be removed from the internet due to excessive popularity?  Sigh.  When it reappears, I'll let you know.

Finally, I'm putting in notice to quit my current temp job by the 21st, which means next week will be a living hell, for reasons I'll explain, yes, next week.

In the meantime, you can check out the full discussion of NMD and T24-7 on the message board, if you can stand all the goddamn pop-up ads.  It's the thread started on 12/11 by Becca, titled "Hmmm... Look what I found..."  I also suggest you all go to temp24-7.com and form your own opinion of what you see there.  And tell 'em I said hi!

e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

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12-13-01 -  Some Pun Involving the Flu

First of all, I owe NATE an apology.  Seems I neglected to give him props for a Diversion I posted last week, the game with the time-bomb (actually, he sent me a different Diversion, but it's on the same site).  Anyway, sorry, Nate!  I made you this super cool graphic because I was extremely sorry and bored.

Boy, is that ugly.

Speaking of being creative, the other day, the Director of Human Resources asked me to make some signs for the lobby, pointing the way to an office where flu shots would be administered to willing employees.

I tend to pounce on little "projects" like this, for two reasons:

1) It beats the hell out of spreadsheets.

2) Any task with the slightest potential for creativity, even something as banal as a flu shot poster, are both rare and welcome.

Now, I know how most employees react to getting jabbed with a needle:  "Mehhhhh... no thanks."  So, I thought perhaps something to entice/shame them into getting their shot might be a good idea.  I needed some snappy slogan, something that would cause even the most squeamish employee to line up and get poked by a stranger.

A got to work  I wrote "FLU SHOTS" and a big arrow pointing towards the office.  Then, I added 'getcher' before it.  Then, I started thinking up tag lines.  First, I came up with:

"Quit yer wheedlin' and get some needlin'!"

Nah.  Perhaps the Carol Feltman approach:

"Don't be a schmoo!  Avoid the Flu!"

Maybe the psychological tack would work:

"What are you, a GODDAMN PUSSY?  GET A SHOT."

Not exactly appropriate.  Getting desperate:

"Don't want to wind up / with influenza / Get jabbed in the office / with the credenza."

Unfortunately, the office had no credenza, so I deep-sixed that one.

Finally, I came up with something catchy!  And, in addition to convincing people to get their shots, it cleverly expressed my feelings about the HR Director!

Who could object to that?

e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

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12-11-01 -  Radar O'Really?

There's this woman at my bus stop after work sometimes.  She's probably in her seventies, and she always smiles very politely when I slouch up to the curb to wait for the bus home.  She's nice, and I like her, though we've never exchange a word.  She doesn't seem to think it odd that I mutter obscenities at the building I've just emerged from, and that makes her okay in my book.

Weird thing is, she always knows when the bus is coming.  I can't figure out how.

Whenever she's there, she does it.  We'll both be standing there, and I'll be scanning up the road, because, as we all know, that makes the bus come faster.  Several blocks away from the stop, the road curves sharply out of sight.

So, we'll both be waiting.  And then, suddenly, she'll start digging in her purse.  I stare up the road, and sure enough, a few moments later the bus will come around the bend.

Maybe she can hear it, but I somehow doubt it.  Even I can't hear it until it's almost to the stop.  And ever since I noticed she had this power, I hold perfectly still, straining to hear the bus approaching.  Can't hear a damn thing.  Even if her ears are better than mine, a lot better, she shouldn't be able to hear it that far away.  And anyway, she's fairly old.  Her ears shouldn't work worth a damn!

So, she definitely can't see it.  Can't hear it.  Maybe she can smell it?  This wouldn't surprise me;  the bus reeks.  But why can't I smell it coming too?  My nose ain't what it used to be, sure.  My sense of smell has no doubt waned, mostly in self-defense.  I smoke, I don't do laundry as regularly as I should, and I often work with overly perfumed and heavily cologned individuals.  My olfactory receptors have been steadily committing suicide for years now, in fact, it's a wonder my nose hasn't simply burrowed into my face.

Okay, let me try to get that image out of my head.  Geaaah.

Anyway, I doubt she can smell the bus coming.  That leaves 'taste' and 'touch', and I haven't noticed her licking or fondling the bus, which, in addition to being disgusting, would be impossible, for, as I mentioned, the bus isn't at the stop when she realizes it is coming.

So, how does she know?  Wait!  I just occurred to me!  She has a watch, and simply knows what time the bus comes, since the bus always sticks to the schedule BAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.

Okay.  Now that we've thrown out the ridiculous, outlandish theories, what are we left with?

1) She's psychic.

2) She carries a tiny radio receiver in her ear, and works with an accomplice who rides the bus, and lets her know via transmitter when the bus is approaching her stop.  Hm.  Perhaps a third collaborator circles overhead in a silent helicopter, just in case.

Well, if she's psychic, she should have enough money from her powers to not be riding the bus.

That leaves theory number two.  But why bother with all that hassle?

Just to mess with my head, man.  Just to mess with my head.

e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

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12-10-01 - Airline Food, And What Is Up With It

Okay.  You're just gonna have to bear with me a little while longer.

I'm just not able to write... stuff... lately.  No ideas.  No funny thoughts.  No work-related stories.  No odd events.  No songs about glazed chicken products.  No nuthin'.  Hence, no writing about it.

I should point out, it's not easy for me anyway.  Writing humor, I mean.  Let's face it, I'm lacking some of the major components of a successful humor writer (most notably, the success part).

Seriously, though, let's look at my deficits, and I think you'll see what I mean.

1)  No WIFE.

I'm not married!  Man, what a huge mistake that is, right off the blocks.  Do you realize the humor I'm missing out on by not being married?  I can't complain (good-naturedly) about the wife!  I can't talk about how much darn time she spends in the bathroom, or how many pairs of shoes she has, or how she makes me go shopping with her.  Also, her idea of a romantic evening (dinner, dancing, a walk on the beach) and my idea (Chee-tos and football) don't exactly sync up.  Ha ha!  Am I right?  There's some humor right there!

And, you all know how she'd insist I call the plumber, but I would decide to fix the leaky pipe by myself, and I'd make a huge mess and have to call the plumber anyway.  Which would prove that she was right.  Which would be funny!  Because that's funny when that happens.  Speaking of which:

2)  No HOUSE.

Man, this is a serious handicap.  Homeowner humor is HUGE.  You gotcher real estate agents.  You gotcher lawnmowers.  Neighbor stories (wacky ones).  A Leaky roof (I'll try to fix it myself!).  Creaky stairs (they creak!).  Electrical problems (ow!).  Mortgage stuff (it's expensive!).  Messy garages (they're messy!).  Mice.  Mice!  Mice in the attic!  Can't catch 'em!  

Hm.  Listed like this, it doesn't seem all that impressive, but trust me, it's ALL GOLD.

3)  No KIDS.

Well, cripes, I'm surprised I've managed to write a single word without having kids.  Kids are to humor like wives are to shoes!  Inextricably linked!

Babies:  Man, they poop a lot!  And cry!  They don't sleep much... and neither do I anymore!  But they're darling.

Little kids:  They run around and do weird things, which is weird.  They can talk now, and say embarrassing things, which is embarrassing.  But funny!  And they're darling!

Older kids:  All they want are video games that I don't understand and can't play.  And their music!  Much different than my music!  Lemme tell ya.

Teens:  Mine must be on drugs, because they're weird!  And one dyed his hair BLUE!!!

4)  No PETS.

Dogs are a great source of humor, from throwing up things to peeing on things, to licking themselves, to humping things they shouldn't hump, to barking at things that they don't have a reason to bark at.  What is going on with my dog?  He's insane but in a funny way!

Cats are cold, emotionless creatures that don't listen to you.  There's an essay RIGHT THERE.

5)  No GYM MEMBERSHIP.

For a guy, particularly a wimpy one like me, the gym is a guaranteed source of humor.  In fact, I'm thinking of joining just so I can have something to write about.  I mean, come on, picture me in a gym!  Man.  That's funny.  Actually, I don't need to join, now that I think about it.  You can just all use your imagination, and I can just keep sitting here no picking up heavy things.

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See what I mean?  Anyway, only one Diversion this week, but it should keep you busy, and by 'busy' I mean 'nailed to your computer monitor, neglecting your friends and loved ones'.  It's called Reflections and it may be addictive.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  Requires Flash.

e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

 Last Week on Not My Desk

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