FIFTEEN MINUTE BREAK August 1, 2003
Today is the big relocation for me to a bigger workplace. Since noon, movers have put in a new desk for me and I'm pulsing to write this entry even as I am unpacking. I've got a space to put in a nameplate in the wall (some kind of magnet thing -a -majig) and I already etched in the words: welcome to the Cary Coatney Clubhouse - probably won't be long until my boss, KATHY THE GREAT will politely ask me to take it down. When I get in early Monday morning, I will start hammering or tacking up all my movie and comic book posters on the wall and I'll probably be scolded for that as well. I've also got my sights set on stealing a shelving unit from the back storage area and using it to erect giant penis and vagina statues from Verotik Comics or something in that obscene nature. What's a little work without raising a little hell now and then?
Geezus Christ, why do people think I'm a expert on computers? What fucking aura impression do I radiate that I'm some kind of specialist in the computer programming field ? Everyone in my department calls on me for assistance because either they're too old to fuck around with the machines or can't hear anything on their CD drives. And I'm afraid to tell them that I know exactly jack shit just as much as the next guy- but somehow I prevail through trail and error and get the crap running for them. That was vent paragraph # 1 by the way.
Not much planned for the weekend except for scoping out the new Daredevil DVD and reading a shitload of comics that I'm backed up on. Becky's husband's parents are staying over from England and I gotta admit I do enjoy their company. I haven't seen his little brother in years. Man, has he grown. Last time I saw him, he was just starting to attend university in London. Now he's 22 and after I got off the busstop after a grueling writing session a few nights ago- he was crossing the same street at Ventura coming towards me. He wanted to know where all the good bars were in Sherman Oaks- I said 'dude, you gotta go to West Hollywood for that kind of scene' and already he was bored and immediately wanted to fly back to London. But his parents want to take him up to San Francisco and to Monterey and I think they would have left by now- but they'll be back at my place before flying out on the 13th. Shit, I can't believe it's August already.
Another essay has been notched on my belt- the essay on billboards and bus placards went out via e-mail to Maggie Thompson early this morning. I want to print out a hardcopy of it but due to the move, the printer hasn't been connected to my modem yet. So I'm holding off sending in the pix until Monday morning.
Saturday I hope to have a meeting with Oliver to pick up some of Larry's original artwork for the Deposit Man so he can strip down the lettering and replace it with some Comickraft fonts. Not too early I hope, because I want to watch cartoons.
~
Coat
Today is the big relocation for me to a bigger workplace. Since noon, movers have put in a new desk for me and I'm pulsing to write this entry even as I am unpacking. I've got a space to put in a nameplate in the wall (some kind of magnet thing -a -majig) and I already etched in the words: welcome to the Cary Coatney Clubhouse - probably won't be long until my boss, KATHY THE GREAT will politely ask me to take it down. When I get in early Monday morning, I will start hammering or tacking up all my movie and comic book posters on the wall and I'll probably be scolded for that as well. I've also got my sights set on stealing a shelving unit from the back storage area and using it to erect giant penis and vagina statues from Verotik Comics or something in that obscene nature. What's a little work without raising a little hell now and then?
Geezus Christ, why do people think I'm a expert on computers? What fucking aura impression do I radiate that I'm some kind of specialist in the computer programming field ? Everyone in my department calls on me for assistance because either they're too old to fuck around with the machines or can't hear anything on their CD drives. And I'm afraid to tell them that I know exactly jack shit just as much as the next guy- but somehow I prevail through trail and error and get the crap running for them. That was vent paragraph # 1 by the way.
Not much planned for the weekend except for scoping out the new Daredevil DVD and reading a shitload of comics that I'm backed up on. Becky's husband's parents are staying over from England and I gotta admit I do enjoy their company. I haven't seen his little brother in years. Man, has he grown. Last time I saw him, he was just starting to attend university in London. Now he's 22 and after I got off the busstop after a grueling writing session a few nights ago- he was crossing the same street at Ventura coming towards me. He wanted to know where all the good bars were in Sherman Oaks- I said 'dude, you gotta go to West Hollywood for that kind of scene' and already he was bored and immediately wanted to fly back to London. But his parents want to take him up to San Francisco and to Monterey and I think they would have left by now- but they'll be back at my place before flying out on the 13th. Shit, I can't believe it's August already.
Another essay has been notched on my belt- the essay on billboards and bus placards went out via e-mail to Maggie Thompson early this morning. I want to print out a hardcopy of it but due to the move, the printer hasn't been connected to my modem yet. So I'm holding off sending in the pix until Monday morning.
Saturday I hope to have a meeting with Oliver to pick up some of Larry's original artwork for the Deposit Man so he can strip down the lettering and replace it with some Comickraft fonts. Not too early I hope, because I want to watch cartoons.
~
Coat
posted by Coat @ 4:38 PM
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