C is for Criminal

Guillermo stops by my desk to have me sign for a package. All packages are usually just office supplies I recently ordered. Instead of signing, I take out the scissors and say, "You never get to enjoy this part. I don't want you to miss this! What could it be?" (totally expecting to open a stapler or laptop battery or whatever someone just had me order). I open the box, and it's a tin of cookies.

"Cookies? I didn't order no cookies." I look at the name on the box. It's not for me. It's for some higher-up on my team. Moops. He laughs, shrugs, gets his signature and leaves. Meanwhile I have to explain why I opened someones cookie gift.

Or do I EAT THEM?

Office Mail

Here's an excerpt from an e-mail I once wrote to a colleague. I'm sorting through the stuff before I delete it. It's called CLOSURE! Maybe this convo happened as the result of a Happy Hour invitation, but I was explaining why I don't drink.

I wonder what I would say if I were drunk AND angry. “I OWN YOU” (pointing to a house plant) “Just shut up and—hey, look at me when I’m talking to you. You disgust me!” (Then turning to a refrigerator) “Why do you let me get like this? Take me home” (Fall to kitchen floor).

Layoffs R Us

Corporate America. Getting rid of excess waste in style.

I was let go from my work place this morning along with hundreds of folks. My former colleagues were very somber about it, and either chose not to look at me or to give me puppy dog eyes. It's that age-old phrase: the company loves misery. It stinks to feel rejected, but it's not the worst way to go. Imagine the last time you got dumped. If that person helped you get your things together, thanked you for being nice and then gave you some cash, maybe you would have thought twice before putting their number on Craigslist.

I never felt comfortable talking about my job on the blog, but now that I don't work there anymore, I can finally reveal what I did for a living: I wrote descriptions for Sky Mall.

You know that litter box that looks like a space ship? I'm the one who thought to call it "an intimate get-away for your pet". When we tested it, most cats were too afraid to go inside, so I added, "You won't be able to tell they've used it!" Engineers from Sweden would send in their ridiculous inventions, and it was my job to trick people into buying them. The key is to make the impractical seem necessary. The upright hot dog and bun warmer? "An exclusive toaster for exclusive tastes." The giant, wall-sized cross word puzzle? "Hiding punch-holes has never been this fun...or educational." The ice cream maker that needs no ice OR chemicals? "Uh...soup recipes included."

I guess the only thing I would have changed is being let go by an animatronic Elvis bust.

"You ain't nothing but a hound dog!"

But Boss, I can do better.


"...cryin' all the time."

No. I told myself I would not cry. I just wanted to say one thing.


"A little less conversation--"

I know, a little more action. I remember the company slogan. I'll...see myself out.

Some of the staff were very cool. I will miss Victor who always called me Bee-bee and said my Spanish was very good. And if I may have a private word just between the two of us: Hola. Bien gracias y tu? Muy bien. Uh...I don't know that one. Bueno? Okay. Later.

I will miss the weird painting on the wall made of blue blotches that always looked like a screaming face. I will miss my desk by the men's room. I will miss the stale contents of that desk. Namely the packet of dried chicken noodle-flavored soup labeled, "Beat the 3PM Slump!" that always reminded me to go to Starbucks. Especially at this time of year, I will miss the phone call announcing the non-negotiable bonus and the follow-up question, "So how does that sound to you?"

Good bye Sky Mall! See you next to the barf bag.

Apiary-Approved

Check me out on The Apiary. I may or may not have eaten a lemon onstage. Know what else? The Living Room has another great lineup for tonight! Does life get better?

I tried to pass the word around in the office, but as usual, it was met with, "I have night school," and, "I live in Jersey". Hey I get it. You don’t have to invent classes or lie about your home address. Look, I have a friend who plays professionally in an orchestra, and she invites me to all her performances. In two years, I still haven’t made it to one of them.

I UNDERSTAND.

There has to be a better way of saying, “I think what you do is great, but it will NEVER be convenient enough for me to attend. Never ever.” than “I’ll try to make it one of these days.”

Maybe that way is, “Please unsubscribe me from your list, douche-couche”. But until you figure out how to do that I expect to see a hand-made diploma on my desk by Monday.

Tonight I’ll be two fabulous characters: one is a celebrity and the other is an inspiration to us all.

The handsome men who will join me at The Living Room (Postmark Cafe):
-Brendan Fitzgibbons (The Onion)

-Dan Fontaine (Saints and Sinners Tour)

-Rob Durham (Midwestern Bias sports blog, touring colleges across U.S.)

-Pat O’Shea (B-Cat TV’s Bush v. Brooklyn, Complete Idiots Guide to Joke Writing)

-Luke Thayer (Love of my life)

Postmark Café
326 6th Street (bet 4th & 5th aves)
Park Slope, BK 11215
8:00PM, FREE

I'm a Human Blanket

You know that scene in So I Married an Axe Murderer where Mike Myers is trapped in a bed and breakfast with his new bride, and he suspects that she killed all her husbands before him? At dinner, he’s pushed to the dance floor with her, trying to figure out an escape plan, and a storm causes the lights to go out.

Myers: You’ve gotta help me! I married a—

(Lights come back on)

Myers: …wonderful woman. Who I love and cherish…

WELL...

You’ve gotta help me! I'm stuck in a--

(boss walks by my desk)

...wonderful state. Called New Jersey. For two weeks. Working on a challenging and rewarding project for a good company."

Quitting Time

Some people leave the office four minutes early. They are stealthy, and all that’s left is a cloud of dust and paperclips. A whisper of “Good night,” lingers, but they’re long gone.


Other people wave and bid adieu like they’re on a game show. “Good night! I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

They need friends.

Some people say it like they won the lottery. “I’m outta here!” And they get very excited. I guess they forget they’re coming back the next morning.

How do I leave the office? This brings forth the age-old question. When there’s no one else around, do I really make a sound?

Yeah. Yeah I do.

Double Take

I just saw two people together in the office that I always thought were the same person. Apparently, for an entire year I would see them both daily, although always separately, and I never put together that they’re not the same guy. It boggles the mind. I am aware that the odds of two people choosing to wear plain shirts AND a short haircut is as good as getting a paper jam from breathing on the copy machine, but just how universal is the chiseled Abercrombie jaw? And who else is rocking the Flintstone five o’clock shadow like they’re running a detective agency with Maddie Hayes? Now that I see these guys together I notice one is several inches shorter than the other, and the short one sometimes wears glasses. Clearly Clark Kent would never get by me! Unfortunately, I would accuse everyone at the Daily Planet of being Superman.

I'll just have to try to remember their names from now on.

Good Humor

I'm in the (cyber) papers again! Thanks to the talented writer/editor/literary series curator Cheryl Burke, the show I co-produce is now publicized on the World Wide Web! Read her article about The Living Room on Until Monday: BKLN. In addition to writing for Until Monday: BKLYN, Cheryl produces a unique variety show called Poetry vs. Comedy on which both Luke and I (and many other past Living Room stars) have performed. Who can forget my lovely parting gift?

See what the buzz is about tomorrow, February 9th for the Spread The Love at the Living Room special!

I knew today was going to be a good day when one of our maintenance workers found me at a copy machine and said, "Do you want some ice cream??" really enthusiastically. Ever the improv pro, I chose to match his energy. "Okay!!" He reached into his bathroom cart, in between two rolls of toilet paper, and gave me a Klondike bar on a stick. Where did he get it from? Why doesn't he want it? These are things you don't ask when it comes to ice cream. You just take it. So, in the middle of winter, inside a sparsely decorated cubicle, I ate ice cream at 10:30 in the morning. Because that's what being an adult is all about.