Tag Archives: gnome

The Importance Of Being Busy

14 Aug

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The office is dead, the show is in work-runs, The Gnome has swollen up to three times her size, I’m on my 12th cup of Keurig, and Cecil just dropped off her application.

…This is what makes “news” for the week, aside from the depressing stuff.

…Depressing stuff that is slamming every news outlet and social media page, for good reason, yet there is only so much a person can take, becoming so saturated and consumed by it all.

I understand it.  I take it in.  I choose to process it privately. 

Two of my teachers passed this week, and it doesn’t matter if one had an active part in the decision and the other had lived a full and rich life…it sucks either way, when it is the creative-force of a mentor leaving the world-stage.

Period.

…So, I join in with others in celebrating their work through festing their films, and get on with mine…which is what they would want me to do. But with a little, “O Captain, my captain”…and “You know how to whistle, don’t yuh Steve?” playing in my mental background.

…A background consumed in constant line runs, ad-nauseam, in “Red Dwarf”-a-thons, to get Lister’s scouser cadence permanently tattooed into my brain…in reading Whitman and Ferlinghetti…in revisiting director’s notes, and blocking…and trying to decide which of the 36 monologues I’ll pluck out and work on today.  I’ve plenty to keep me busy…which is good as the office is supplying almost nothing to that end, for freak reasons during our peak season, that I can’t for the life of me figure out.

Meanwhile, the sweltering and suffocating heat in this Kennedy Administration building has been kicking our one little wall-unit-air-conditioner’s ass…even when turned on at 5am…which has us sweating by 8:30, despite all efforts, while in the lobby The Gnome melts puddles all over her desk and floor.

…Being this pregnant makes absolutely nothing look comfortable, and it makes heat and humidity look like fucking torture. This once tiny, tiny human, has even moved on from her basketball-bump phase, and started to swell up in the arms and legs to the point of near bursting, across this past week or so. 

…Worse timing ever, one could say.  And she does.  Frequently.  Not that I fucking blame her.  I’d be the worst complainer EVER, in this situation. Which is why: Don’t ever forget Mother’s Day, like EVER.  These people lived in a nine-month-long solitary-bodily-confinement, at torturous levels, for us.  One should at least score a phone call and card for that, yeah?

…And speaking of Gnomes, (or at least this one), we’ve gotten our clever back-up for her confinement and leave-time, which will put Cecily and Gwendolen together again…only this time in office adventures.  Which I’m super stoked about because not only is she an actually competent person who I won’t have to continually train and re-train to do the job she was hired for (as I frequently do now), but it’ll make for amusing FB status updates. 

…Things like:

“Cecil and Gwen + tacos, at tea.”

…Training sessions like:

“The good ended happily, and the bad: unhappily. That is what Customer Service means. In matters of prepping importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing.” 

…Not to mention endless chatting opportunities like:

Gwen: I am known for the gentleness of my disposition…
Cecil: –And the extraordinary sweetness of your nature–
Gwen: …But if I hear that woman bitch one more time, so help me god, it may necessitate murder.

…or…

Cecil: …Cute UPS guy!
Gwen: Mmmm. Has nothing, but looks everything…
Cecil: …What more could you desire…?

…The cheese whiz of possibility is endless…ENDLESS I TELL YOU!

And hells yes, I will be banking on it.

~D

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Bad Ads & Baby Growing

17 Feb

Today is unbearably slow at the office. Rain all weekend left us with shit sales, and all reports done by 9:30.

…I’ve let the Gnome go home even.  No calls for about an hour at least…plus she’s moving today, and quesy.

…The last part is on account of the fact that she is in the first month of currently growing a mini-Gnome in her belly. 

We have much concern for the child, due to practicle purposes of common sense adaptations of it’s mother.  She’s a sweet girl, so affection won’t be an issue, but we do ponder its mental and physical future. The first weeks of pregnancy have been a big enough heads-up to show us that this is sure to be a wild ride of “how comes,” “what if’s” and “why nots” from the Gnome.

…I’ve already lectured on the importance of “going to the doctor,” “eating,” and “getting prenatal vitamins,” because apparently, those things never occured to her. Nor the fact she can’t just pound IB Profin for a headache and twelve kinds of tummy antacids, in lieu of breakfast. After an Urgent Care visit, she’s been forbidden to lift anything, and when I asked her if she was put on “bed rest,” she didn’t know what I meant.  To which I told her, it was exactly like it sounds, and she’d know if she was on it, cuz the Doctor would have told her so, to which she replied, “Well…I guess not, then.”

…I advised her to get an actual note with all her restrictions written on it. “So I can add it to your file.”  And, therefor, actually know them, and inform her of them, as needed.

I also advised her, before letting her go today, NOT to lift anything in the move. 

…This was followed with a pang of realization, directly after she left, that I prob’ly should NOT have let her go early, in order to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself today by doing things she isn’t aware she isn’t supposed to be doing, because she doesn’t “think” before undergoing most of her day-to-day routine and I dunno why that would suddenly change now.  Only I also realize that I can’t babysit her every move for the next nine months, and at some point she is gonna have to either wise up…or not.  On her own.  But then there’s this whole person dependent now on HER “good choices” and outside of about three, I’ve yet to see her really make any, in the six months or whatever, that she has been here.

…For a person with like zero maternal instinct, she is totally stressing me out with worry.  And it’s only week four.

Meanwhile…

…As the office is silent today, I’ve filled the time walking back and forth to the coffee pot for refreshers, and pulling 60’s ads for the the new show trailer I’m working on.  I’m looking for ridiculous faces and clothes, so went straight to the print-ads…where I know the worst offenders reside, and I have been gafawing, (actually out loud), at some of the particularly most horrible, for the past hour.  Since it’s Monday, I’m sure you could use a grin yourself…so am sharing the wealth of a few favorites.

Like:

* The Gran Prix of Circulation…
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* Fashion for the Literary…
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* The Doctor’s most recommended…
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* Plastic: Not JUST for furniture and food anymore…
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* Fuck breath mints!
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* What wives are for…
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* Really…?
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* Um. Wow.
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* For your convenience…
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* Just…what does the photographer even SAY to get this pose?
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And…the winner:

* Thank you, Canada

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Happy Monday, friends 🙂

~D

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