Friday Fun: Eye Test

Dear Diary,

Here's an eye test for you, Diary.  It took me a few tries, but I finally found him.

Can you spot the 44th President of the United States of America in the chart below?


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Cubicles Can be Dangerous Too

Dear Diary,

Below are some pictures that my cousin took while he was on tour in Iraq.  That's my cousin in the first picture.  For one of these pictures he wrote the caption: "Better than a cubicle."

That's when I had to pull my hankie out of my suit pocket and throw it on the ground in disagreement.  I'll have you know that the corporate life inside a cubicle can be dangerous too.  Granted, it's not as dangerous as driving inside a humvee through Fallujah.  But still, be wary of Corporate America.

For example, I recall an incident in late 2007 when I tried to staple some reports together and my stapler was not loaded.  I think that is totally comparable to when my cousin was involved in firefight and his M-16 ran out of bullets.

We're both pinned down in our "cubicles."  (Mine being an actual cubicle and his being the metaphorical humvee cubicle.)  At the end of the day, though, we both reloaded our weapons and continued on to complete our missions. His: to save Iraq from terrorists, and Me: to deliver a PowerPoint presentation with a pretty chart on it.






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"Fritter Gate"

Dear Diary,

This is totally scandalous, Diary.  Yesterday I told you about "Cliff" giving me a hard time about my apple fritter.  Today I thought that you might like to know about a development that occurred yesterday.  The "Office Gangsta" bought some pastries for the group and "Cliff" pounced on them like a stray dog stumbling across a bowl of water in the desert.

I was going to give him a hard time about it, but I decided to wait until he actually started eating one.  When he took his first bite I pounced on him.  The fury of Mattrix was unleashed and I called him out.

When my speech about health and being harrassed about my food choices ended he had little to say.  His excuse was that he did cardio that morning and could afford to eat the desert.

That's weak and I reject you completely.  Hello pot, meet kettle.
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How Not to Ask For Free Food

Dear Diary,

It all started when I was in junior high.  I arrived to the lunch room later than normal and my friends were just about finished eating their meal.  I did not want to miss out on a game of basketball so I threw away my whole lunch and ran outside with them.

My Mom was a teacher in the same school and so all the teachers knew me because of my Mom.  Well, one of the teachers (to this day I still don't know who) saw me throw away my lunch without eating it and he/she told my Mom.  Tattle Tell!

From that day on my Mom went on strike and refused to make my lunches going forward.  And the rest is history.  I am now a lazy person that hates to make lunches.  I know, Diary, I've got some deep-seeded issues.

I know that I am lazy with lunch and so to help me not eat out so much I buy lunch stuff in bulk from Costco and store it at my desk at work.  "Cliff" has recently discovered that I leave a giant can of oatmeal at my desk.  Since then he has decided to invite himself over to help himself to a free breakfast.  At first I did not mind sharing because he ran out and he had never asked before.  But now he brings his giant, freakin' bowl over to me ever morning and asks for food.

This morning I was enjoying a tasty treat from Starbucks.  It's the first time I've had an apple fritter from Starbucks in who knows how long.  "Cliff" saw my apple fritter and thought it would be a good idea to make fun of my food choice.

Uh, listen "Cliff."  Here's how not to ask for free food:

1) Don't come over with your gigantic, 'roid-rage bowl looking for free food.
2) Don't tease me for eating an apple fritter when looking for free food.
3) Don't tell me what chemicals and/or ingredients are in my apple fritter if you're looking for free food.
4) Don't tell me what heart disease I'm going to get when you're looking for free food.

Because, if you do...

I might be inclined to tell you that you need to go see a proctologist to get my foot out of your a$$.
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Man With Many Hats

Dear Diary,

We got a guy in the office that is going for the title "Man With Many Hats."  Most people know this type of person.  He's the kind of guy that has knowledge about every possible subject.  I could bring up a story about changing diapers and this guy, who has no kids, would have something to contribute to the story.

Below are some of the "hats" that he has gone for and successfully collected:

1) "Muscle Head."  Legitimately he's got this title because he's yoked out of his brains.  But what's funnier is if you bring up any topic about health he'll have some protein drink or diet recommendation for it.

2) "Mr. Slow."  Not only does he drive like a grandma going to the market on Sunday morning, but it takes him forever to do work.  He needs a three-day lead in order to be only two days late.

3) "Token Terrorist."  His family is from Afghanistan so we give him crap about that.  He's a good sport about it because he knows that he's not exactly "Mr. Racially Sensitive" himself.

4) "Whore."  He will whore himself out to almost anything if he thinks he'll get paid enough.  One time we challenged him to eat 20 atomic-flavored buffalo wings from WingStop.  You say 20 buffalo wings, big deal.  Well, you should also know that these buffalo wings are so hot that the store will only sell you three of them at a time.  To everyone's surprise he ate them, but he could not feel his lips for a long time afterwards.

5) "Cliff."  The most appropriate hat for this guy, though, is the postal hat of Cliff from the sitcom Cheers.  "Cliff," just like the character on Cheers, is the office know-it-all.  You could cite any fact, statistic or question and "Cliff" would chime in with something to add/remove/change.
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Back Off "Doc Brown"

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I did something that I have never done before at work.  I let a burst of rage get a hold of me and this happened.  At the time, Diary, I was furious.  "Doc Brown" in addition to being super awkward also has obsessive compulsive disorder ("OCD") for data.

♫ "You down with OCD (Yeah you know me)" ♫

I have been assigned to be "Doc Brown's" apprentice for a project.  He is updating his model which projects future home price appreciation.  I have been tasked with finding information about all kinds of things like:

1. Population counts
2. Median income
3. Median home value, and
4. Owner's equivalent rent by year back to 1987

"Doc Brown" is so anal about data that when he requests something from me he overly dictates what he needs from me.  That's what caused me to burst out with rage yesterday.  He had the nerve to tell me how to calculate a weighted-average number.

Gee, thanks "Doc."  I've been working with weighted-average numbers for like 12 years now, but sure, I could always use a refresher course.

[Sits down in a classroom desk; and "Doc Brown" starts talking]

Mattrix: "Uh huh, and then what happens oh great 'Doctor?'"

[More "Doc Brown" chatter]

Mattrix: "Really?  When I add 1 + 1 the molecular composition of the numbers fuse together to form a 2?  That is fascinating information."

[Class dismissed]

I'm glad "Doc Brown" is too afraid to leave his house in Compton to come into the office.  Things would be a lot worse for me if he was here to personally show me how to pull the data.  I imagine he would want to reenact that pottery scene from "Ghost," but instead of clay he'd be holding my hands on the mouse and keyboard.
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Who Ate My Pen?

Dear Diary,

Something atrocious happened to me and I'm going to need to seek counseling in order to cope with this.  During the Christmas break I could not find a pen of mine.  It was my "1 Year of Service" pen that I received from Downey Savings.  I like this pen not because it was a gift, but because it writes really well.

I point out that it was a Downey Savings pen because I am the only one in the office that has such a pen.  I'm not talking about some generic Bic pen.  So when someone uses the pen it should be obvious to them that it is not theirs because they did not work at Downey for one year.

Fast forward to yesterday (2.5 weeks later) I blurted out that I'm still upset my pen was gone.  I'm an overly organized person so I knew that someone took my pen.  Folks in the office did not believe me until we found the pen.

We found it in the conference room destroyed.  An anonymous adult -- whom I'm now going to call a child -- ate my pen.  The rubber grip has teeth marks all over it and has even been torn from the chewing.

Are you kidding me people?  I've got four kids all seven years and younger and they put stuff in their mouth all the time.  Do you know why they put stuff in their mouth?  BECAUSE THEY'RE CHILDREN!

No one has confessed to eating my pen so I made a mini-poster and taped it to my wall for all to see and, hopefully, to bring public shame to some individual.

It says, "Who ate my pen?  You're nasty!"  Here's a picture.
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Great Scott!

Dear Diary,

Today I'm going to introduce you to the good doctor.  He's not a medical doctor (MD), but rather a PhD, which I heard stood for "pretty horny dude."  But we'll save that for another time.

Our office has contracted with a PhD to help us use economics to project future home price appreciation.  He's a good man, but typically the super smart are also super awkward.  Super awkward totally applies when dealing with this guy.

I have been thinking of nicknames for the Doc, but I can't decide which one to use.  It's either going to be "White Steve Urkel" or "Doc Brown."

Reasons to Choose "White Steve Urkel:"
1) He has the Urkel walk down pat.  His back is hunched in such a way that his lower abdomen sticks out.
2) When he hones in on you, he's annoying (think "Hi, laura").
3) His belt buckle is typically at or above his belly button.

Here's a fashion tip, Diary.  If I ever buy you a book cover, never wear it above the equivalent of your "belly button."

Reasons to Choose "Doc Brown:"
1) Easy.  His hair is white and uncombed like Doc Brown in the movie "Back to the Future."
2) Every now and then the good doctor will blurt something out similar to Doc Brown's, "Great Scott!"
3) All of his e-mails end with "Yours for Mathematics."

One time, when he got excited at a meeting, he shouted a phrase so loud (I forget what it was) that I almost fell out of my chair.  Fortunately, I was not the only one that experienced it. Otherwise, I'd have an embarrassing moment to share.

As I write this Diary I'm leaning towards using "Doc Brown."  It seems like an appropriate nickname.  And, come to think of it, Doc Brown in the movie had trouble with the Libyans.  My version of "Doc Brown" has trouble with gangs.  He lives in Compton, which is another story all in itself.

Yours for mathematics (but mostly for video games),
Mattrix
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