Friday, October 28, 2011

I can prove that Zombies are real

Not only are they real, but they are (apparently) prevalent in downtown Houston. If zombies don't exist, then why would there be a task force dedicated to the complete eradication of the zombie population? Exactly. Such an organization wouldn't exist.  The group's very presence indicates that a likely zombie coup is in the works.

As far as organizations go, I think this Zombie Insurgency Eradicator group is probably really strong. I know they have good employee benefits. They even have a car allowance.

THAT (below) is the Zombie Outbreak Response Vehicle.  For reals.

I am not really afraid of zombies. I mean, they have excellent endurance, but they're REALLY slow runners.  If I get a good head start, I'm pretty sure it would take a zombie several blocks to catch up to me.

Have a great Halloween weekend, y'all!

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

I wonder if I'll get an A+++ for my first school assignment!

Also, I hope my co-worker never finds this blog.

Here's the task:  Think of a recent occasion when you needed to have a serious and/or potentially contentious conversation with someone important to you (e.g., your parents, supervisor, romantic partner or roommate). Describe that communication interaction in terms of the seven components of the communication process (i.e., message creation, meaning creation, context, participants, etc.). If you were going to study this communication occasion, what paradigm would you use to approach it (scientific, interpretive, etc.)?  Why?

And here's my assignment  I hope I haven't gone too far (again)....

Because I live a fairly peaceful life and I try to avoid contentious discussions, I will relay a conversation that occurred between a co-worker and my own boss [participants].  My (female) boss decide that she was uncomfortable with my co-worker’s office attire being entirely too suggestive. She e-mailed my co-worker and requested that they meet face to face [channel] before the end of the work day, as close to 5pm as possible. My co-worker agreed to meet in my boss’ office at 4:45pm that day [setting].
My boss relayed that she found my co-worker’s attire degrading and insulting, and she suggested that perhaps my co-worker could wear longer skirts and wear blouses that were less revealing of her ample cleavage [message creation]. My boss offered the explanation that, working in a conservative, service industry environment, my co-worker should make a different impression on our clients and visitors [meaning creation and context].
My co-worker was taken aback because our office does not have a written dress code.  Nor has anyone ever suggested that any staff members were in violation of an unwritten wardrobe rule. Because my boss’ glass-walled office is partially exposed to the hallway and I happen to sit immediately outside my boss’ office [noise], my coworker felt exposed and she provided very little return communication [feedback].  She listened, thanked my boss for her advice and went back to her desk.
By the way, two days later, my office received a new dress code policy.

I would study this exchange under the social science approach. I think I would like to know more about my boss’ real concern about my co-worker’s mode of dress and what drove her to open a dialog that lead to a policy change. I would also be interested to understand the reason my co-worker feels compelled to wear her pheromones to work. 

Okay.  If I get an F I'll know that I need to tone it down and start being all academic and shit.  FML, I'm probably not cut out for this kind of adult responsibility.

UPDATE:  Who's your daddy now bitches?  I got 100%. Yeah.  I'm bad.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Teenagers today are WEAK...we 80's kids knew how to get our Teen on

I wasn't a good teenager.  I was trouble. Drugs, parties, running away.  Oh, I've got some fun stories.  Like the time my friend Margo and I took off, got on a Greyhound, took it as far as our money would take us (1/2 way to our final intended destination), started hitchhiking, wound up at some old dude's house, too much weed and hashish, got back out on the road on foot, more hitchhiking, coffee shops, Christian families who pick up hitchhiking teens, blah, blah, blah....  But this story isn't about me.  It's about one of my kids and how I am training each one to be fully evil.

*CAVEAT - none of this is illegal, so don't bother sending CPS to look for me *

When my (now 19 year old) stepdaughter was in the 9th or 10th grade, she was being harassed mercilessly by a former girlfriend, Tati. I don't know why or what really happened, but I know that they used to be best of friends and then *shrug* they weren't.  Stepdaughter would tell me stories Tati spreading rumors about my stepdaughter.  Eventually, when you give me enough ammo, you'll get a pretty cool fire-fight.

One day, my stepdaughter came to me with a note.  The note was a love letter handwritten by Tati and some horned up boy at school.  They were passing the note back and forth in class.  The note went something like this:

Boy:  So, when you gonna let me hit it?

Tati: whenever you want. You wanna come to my house? The address is ....

Boy:  Yeah.

Tati:  ok, my mom won't be home, so come over tomorrow right after school and I'll give you alllll the loving (insert lurid and graphic details of what she plans to do to the boy).

Boy: right on. I'll be there and I'll (insert lurid and graphic details of what he plans to do to Tati).

While most parents would be disturbed and outraged that 2 young people were writing back and forth in such a manner, THIS mom right here?  Meh.  I don't care.  I know kids are "doing it".  Hell I'M doing it. But again, this is not about me.

"So, uh, you want Tati to stop messing you at school? I think we can get her fully distracted enough to just leave you alone.  Gimme that note."

The next day, in an unprecedented sneak attack, hundreds of copies of that very personal handwritten note, complete with the girl's address and her (and the boy's) names/signatures, were found strewn all over the school - in the cafeteria, in the locker room, in the hallways, on the football field....

Moral?  Don't fuck with my kids.  I have a lot of pent up teenage angst to unleash.