mister manager

i don’t “say cheese!” cheese is disgusting. i know what you’re thinking and no, it’s not a texture thing, it’s actually a waste of milk that could have been chock-mo thing.

instead, i prefer to “say frwunch frwyie,” followed by a ride to the golden arches. or a tantrum. your choice.

cheers!

j

today is my two year anniversary with this company. let me eat cake? sadly, no. no cake. no trophies, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no line. instead, employees M and D took me to Friendlys, which was seemingly so, until i started throwing my weight and the salt shaker around. i didn’t realize a place that touts chumminess would frown upon my good luck distribution. Friendly? i think
not.

our company prefers ice cream sundaes. too much can go wrong with cake - the texture, the moisture, the nightmare of three inch deep grocery store frosting, me not getting the batter bowl and vocalizing my displeasure, and the tough love that i have to give M and D when they guess the wrong flavor (it’s chock mo. it’s always chock mo). it’s impossible to mess up a sundae - unless you present it with jimmies. or anything is touching the “ice cuwhee.” or it’s vanilla.

after indulging in my own “pee boah kuh” (pictured), i snatched employee M’s beveled disc from her sundae, took a bite/licked it, and then handed it back to M with the delicacy of handling a used tissue. she still ate it.

taste the happy.

cheers!

j

you fools, my pacifier is my sharpie pen!!!! FIIIIND IT!!!

cheers!

j

the olympics are here! well, not here - in the big smoke. so far, we’ve been subjected to NBC’s (delayed) quips and factoids for all of the history neophytes (that’s not London Bridge? really?!), and poor attempts at clever, off-colour commentary (stop trying to out-cheek the brits, mr. lauer, you’re on their turf).

i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s been a lot of buzz around this “ben” character. he seems to be the Games’ darling, but no one knows where he is! they mention and search for him every time the cameras pan over the city and break for commercials. if he’s so “big” i don’t understand why they haven’t nabbed him yet!

i’ve been lobbying the olympic committee for some new sports - you know, get some fresh faces (mine) out there, maybe land a nice little puma sponsorship for my olympic swinging (i am quite good). you think the uneven bars are a challenge, miss flying squirrel usa? try pumping your legs and not pinching your fingers between burning metal links, all the while being heckled by multiple opponents at the playground. and then olympic tantrums! you think your tears for not sticking that double back with a double twist of no soy latte are noteworthy? amateur hour. talk to me when you’re laying on your back pounding nails into the floor with your feet, and your employees can’t distinguish between snot and sweat on your t-shirt.

gold medals. every time.

cheers!

j

our office loves the euro. just when we think we can’t survive the world cup drought, this international stage shows up with a football and coldplay to quench our thirst. it has most of the world cup excitement, without the anxiety that is known as team usa.

i allow my employees to watch however many matches they’d like during business hours, provided that i receive cookies and toy story in equal proportions. fair is fair.

some things that i have enjoyed:
- watching taylor twellman commentate in circles, while alexi lalas’ eyes bulge incredulously out of his head.

- cristiano “my hair looks like a ken doll” ronaldo’s peyton manning face.

- no vuvuzelas!

- rooney’s hair plugs putting one in the back of the net.

things that i have not enjoyed:
- employee D saying he’s “riding the portugal wave.” this isn’t team ocean spray, D.

- when my associates have to leave after watching a match at our office. stay! work for me!

- the sound clip that plays everytime espn flashes the euro logo (and also the logo itself). do football flowers sing? is the euro actually being played in fantasia?

- employee M crying out her anglophilic tears when the “motherland” couldn’t bury more PKs than italy. (i mused from the beginning of overtime that if it came down to it, ashley cole would ruin everything… M did not care for my omniscient input, but agreed.)

well, the tourney is almost over, but fear not! we have the mls to get us to september.

cheers!

j

the island of sodor is surrounded by beautiful blue sea. it has fields of green and sandy yellow beaches. there are rivers, streams and lots of trees where the birds sing. there are windmills and a coal mine, and a MISTER MANAGER smack in the middle of it.

i was at my satellite office today, trying to solve the world’s transit problems - more specifically, boston’s. i don’t want to point fingers, but… i will. the mbta is corrupt. are you ready to read why? (if not, eyemuffs).

trickle down effect. fare increases of 20%, weekend service loss, consistent delays, apathetic customer service - it’s all coming from the head honcho! he’s always letting things slide, always giving second and third chances to repeat offenders, always being withholding like gange bluth, and always at the expense of passengers.

and now, sir topham hatt, if i may address you directly… it’s time to be a tiger mom to your employees. stop accepting these “silly” excuses from your engines, and start being “really useful” yourself. you’re running a racket.

we can discuss this further in person at edaville.

cheers!

j

hello, again! what? what’s that you’re saying? I’m so sorry I CAN’T HEAR YOU over this “MUSIC” that employee M is blaring. it pains me! what does it feel like? have you ever stared at the snow on a sunny day? me either, but i bet it’s like when M forgets to pull the shade in our company car. M has aviators and a driver’s side visor; i have a wubbanub and a set of lungs that can reach impressive decibels.

regardless, i am often left staring at the sun. you were so wrong, bono. so. wrong.

but my loudness is no match for this lo-fi “celebration rock.” what are we celebrating here, anyway? according to M, the japandroids were rubbish when she saw them at Coney back in 2009. employee D, however, insists that their new album will be a heavy hitter on the end of the year indie lists.

my thoughts? i want to nap. so now, the melancholy baritone of matt berninger and the geese of beverly road, please.

ciao!

v

i 100% support assistant manager V in her prior post.

cheers!

j

i think employees M and D may have had a little too much fun at radiohead the other night. i was nice enough to approve their vacation time, and in return they tell me i’m talking like charlie brown’s parents.

it’s maddening. i’ve gone to great lengths to make my requests and concerns as easy as pie to understand. for example, “piwhoa” is the classification of all bedtime linens, not just pillows. “chock mo” originally meant chocolate milk, but now includes any sort of treat. simple. quite possibly linguistic genius.

tonight, while M and D were puttering around preparing dinner, i vocalized a request. they looked at me as if i had my foot in my mouth. they thought i said “green moat,” or “dream more.” wrong. this guessing game went on for ten minutes. i realized i was going to have to vocalize my displeasure, and i did so in dramatic fashion.

i walked over to the fridge, flung the door open for the first time, yanked the gallon of milk from the shelf, and slammed it on the table.

“DRINK MILK!”

obviously.

cheers!

j

i scream, you scre- wait a minute. no. who came up with this nonsense?

here’s how it’s going to work:

i scream, you scoop.

and then you draw my bath.

cheers!

j

i drink your milk! i drink it up!

cheers!

j

apologies to my faithful who have been holding their breath waiting for my next post. we have all been incredibly consumed with getting assistant manager V up to speed here at the office.

more later, but speaking of speed, check out the new company vehicle!

cheers!

j

hi there!

as you may or may not know, i’m V, the assistant manager. mister manager has asked me to keep you informed from time to time on our company’s affairs. happy to be here! (happy in the sense that, like alabama, i am here to shake things up)

i’m keeping M very busy working the night shift. i breezed through orientation week undetected like harry potter skulking around hogwarts in his invisibility cloak. now i “go nuclear” as M says, whenever i see fit/whenever i’m awake. M and D are quite determined to appease me.

why fuss? why choose the same management style as mister manager? who knows. what i do know is that M needs stop whining about missing her bowls of cinnamon toast crunch and chocolate milk. quitting dairy is not only good for my “sensitive system,” but our whole office’s waistline. and bottom line.

and like beck, i’m a driver, i’m a winner
- things are going to change soon i can feel it.

ciao!
v