Conspiracy ALERT- Facebook FORCES Me to Shop...Kinda

Today I decided to take a stroll outside since it wasn't raining...this was a first since 1872 for New Yorkers so I had to seize the moment. By default, to avoid thinking stressful or important thoughts, I enjoy "daydreaming" about my wardrobe. I essentially get lost in a virtual inventory of my closet. I like to catalog all the upcoming activities I have on the horizon and which outfits would correspond appropriately. I'm a deep thinker. Sadly, each time I thought of a potential winning ensemble, I would remember, fu*k me! There's a picture of me wearing that on Facebook! I don't want everyone to be like, "There she is again in that damn polka-dot bustier!" Sadly this logic fails to recognize that I wish "everyone" was browsing my profile let along with such scrutiny. But that's really not the point. Facebook has essentially given us all the ability to be our own paparazzi. Sometimes, unfortunately, others do it on our behalves too...the dreaded tagged photo of you looking like a$$...

"How long has that been up for? I hope my crush didn't see that keg-stand photo where my shirt's around my neck, wearing a full coverage nude bra and my stomach looking like an un-baked grands biscuit!" This scenario alone, merits the need for a blackberry or i-phone if for no other reason. Anyho, as my wardrobe dwindled down to the only few options that remain with tags on it ("Hi my name's Toolbox and I'm a shopaholic..."Hi Toolbox.") I started wondering if I had time to go shopping today because clearly I HAVE NO CLOTHES!! Then I made a deal that first I must do some work and then I'm allowed to go shopping and that's how we arrived at this present moment, still procrastinating from doing work, but taking a stand against the fabricated need to consume created by Facebook! So I'm hear to admit something terrifying: I repeat outfits. I'm not deleting photos to try to obscure this unfortunate truth...just deal with it. I'm hear, I'm trying to be more thrifty, get used to it.

Some Annoying Things of Note

I'm gonna make this snappy because it is WAAAAAAAAAY past my bedtime but I shan't go to bed mildly annoyed by the following things:

• NYC's Speakeasy Boom- I'm not gonna lie, I kinda dig these exclusive, hard to find, basement-y places where the word bartender is a four letter word...it's mixologist, which I don't debate as they do make some pretty crafty concoctions. However they take it a bit far when its starts involving raw eggs n' such. Here's my gripe though- Um, drinking is perfectly legal so all the pretend secrecy is starting to get cheesy, what's next we all start doing lines of powdered sugar in the bathroom?
  
• The Excessive Use of the phrase "Stimulus Package" in marketing- Dominos has a "stimulus package," Trojan has a "stimulus package." Though competitively priced pizza and condoms does sound lovely I don't think its exactly the solution to our nation's financial problems. Just a hunch.
• Some Questionable Fashion Trends- The "Jesus" flats aka Gladiator Sandal won't go away (literally, it looks like the shoes Jesus wore); Jumpsuits (aka "onesies" for grown-ups) are in- which I have mixed emotions about...some I like, others have drapey crotches which I am already predicting girls will admire on each other perpetuating this dreaded look; in the meantime, the drapey crotch frock will expertly function as a man repellent. Suiting is creeping into odd places...some of this is working for me, as you see here (horrid photo compliments of Top Shop's Look Book...are you serious?).
• Obama Jokes Involving Chicken and/or Watermelon- do I really have to explain this? Is this really considered funny to people? I'm not even referring to the obvious, offensive nature these jokes. I'm specifically disturbed by the fact that people are so simple minded that they still find chicken and watermelon jokes funny. I've been doing some stand-up comedy lately, how come these morons don't come to my shows? It would make it a lot easier for me...I could just go up there make a few bathroom jokes and maybe choke a rubber chicken and I'd be an instant success!

Lastly, insomnia is kinda dumb. I could do without that as well. But it's still not as bad as being subliminally tricked into wearing outfits that make me look like I lost a really, really important bet.

Idiot Fish out of Water

Hi. I'm gonna ignore the 900lb gorilla in the room that is our inconsistent postings. After reviewing the site meter it has been brought to my attention that our readership has dwindled to those that serendipitously stumble upon our musings after googling something like impetigo from a tanning bed or worms in my yogurt read Wash Your Fruit in July 07 Archives or not...
Anyway, my career as an office raider has really taken off and has taken me to far away places including East Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I do not fit in there...at all. I, unfortunately, do not know any of the rules of Hasidism and have been breaking them all over town. I tried to shake one of my clients hands the other day...naturally he didn't want to shake my grubby hand and not taking the hint I essentially lunged at him and wrestled a hand shake out of him. If I had peed on him it would have been only a smidge more innappropriate. A few days later, I sashayed off an elevator in to the men's waiting parlor. Though after a night of heavy imbibing I often look like a hot tranny mess I am no man and do not belong there. Upon noticing the sign I went and sat on the other side in the ladies' waiting parlor. It's like middle school but not really at all. Then upon leaving the building a gentleman and I were waiting for the elevator, the doors flew open and I waltzed in and enthusiastically looked at the man to join me and he gestured for me to go on my way. There will be no riding on the elevators with moron girl or maybe just women in general, not sure.
After a day like this I asked Office Knight (aka my sister) to do a little research on the customs of Hasidic Jews and she said she would do no such thing because she was deriving entirely too much joy out of my blunders. I thought, perhaps you might too. Good day to you.

A Controversial Confession

Here goes. One…two…three. I don’t like reading fiction.

I’ve tried and tried and the same thing keeps happening. I get bored or confused or both and besides, reading fiction does not provide any tangible improvement to my life.

While you’re busy judging my intellect, consider a recent attempt to appreciate this genre via Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms.

“In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders , dry and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swiftly moving and blue in the channels.”

Problem #1: Extraneous information


What do white pebbles have to do with anything? CUT TO THE CHASE ALREADY. At most, the whole book should say, “We lived in a crappy house in a village and then a bunch of things happened such as (fill in the blank) and that’s pretty much it.” That’s the whole story. Not 332 pages of carrying on about dry pebbles and crinkly leaves and the coarse texture of someone’s wool coat.

Problem #2: Intentionally traumatizing one’s self


I believe that if I kept reading, a ton of the characters die. Assuming that one of life’s greatest agonies is mourning the deaths of other people, why would I suddenly say to myself, “It’s a beautiful day out. Let me read about made-up people who die.”
Or what about those fiction books where lizards and witches show up at banquets and get in fights or fly around in glittery outfits. Seriously.
**

Now contrast this with the life-enhancing genre of non-fiction.

Consider these forms…

Biographies – I got to read about Ted Kennedy banging people in someone’s study at parties. Riveting! Who would guess that wrinkled Ted Kennedy did anything but think about healthcare policy and drink too much. And why doesn’t this happen at the parties I go to?

Personal Finance – I’ve learned about building an airtight credit score which will lead to access to mortgages which will lead to a rockin’ apartment which will lead to awesome parties where my guests might bang people in my study.

Personal Transformation – I’ve learned that NOW is all we have. Am I lying in a ditch, staring at a gash in my leg, or trapped at an evangelical church service RIGHT NOW? No. So all is well. Now I can go back to thinking about Ted Kennedy or my disdain for flying lizards.

-Office Knight

IT HAS BEEN WAY TOO LONG...I feel Awkard

Hello to probably like one reader (or none) that has hung on with hope that someday, yes someday the folks at officetan would return. We haven't been really that busy to be honest we just sorta forgot about the blog. I am now focusing my comedic efforts on stand-up. I want you to come watch me, heckle me, throw fruits at me that people think are vegetables. Tomotoes people...tomatoes. I will always wear black just in case. Come to think of though, they really should just be vegetables. They have a much lower glycemic index than other fruits and they're not sweet. Can you imagine if you got a fruit platter delivered and it had pineapples, grapes, sliced melon, strawberries and tomatoes? That would never happen. But guess what? I have seen tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, ironically hanging out with the other crudites...yeah. How 'bout that Just like y should be a consonant or a vowel. Not this a,e,i,o,u, and sometimes Y. WTF is that? Like, me, Sally, Jerry, Kerry, and John are all non smokers and sometimes Ned. No...you smokers that say you're non smokers because you only smoke when you drink...that leads to another question now doesn't it...how often do we drink Ned? Three times a week...that sounds like you're pretty much a smoker. Or people that don't buy their own cigarettes consider themselves not smokers...well that's excellent so now you're a mooch and a smoker.