Meanderings: January 28, 2000

Friday,
January 28, 2000

Well, that was. . .something straight out of Dilbert.

It's days like this that convince me I'm not cut out for the corporate world. Maybe it's my English majorhood looming out of my past, maybe it's just my extreme impatience with mangling a language in order to generate buzzwords, but:

Shamans, saints and dopeheads have visions. Managers don't. Get over it.
Astronauts, secret agents and assorted Southwestern locations are allowed to have missions. Nobody else. Especially departments.
The next time I encounter the terms "Evolution, not Revolution," "Actualization of one's potential" or any other misshapen corporate usage of the English language, I shall vomit upon the speaker's shoes.

And I ain't a plant. Or even a "Plant." Jesus. . .

On a more amusing note, apparently Lyndon and Tina had quite the time while I was in Rosenön. Tina was invited to a party at a bar on Thursday night (I swear, watching her accumulate friends is amazing), and Lyndon tagged along, intending it to be a few hours.

Uh, yeah. Right.

They had a flaming good time, wound up staggering back on the T-bana at 3:00 am, exceedingly merry and absolutely ravenous. After wandering around Metro (an all-night food store in the area) in search of baked beans, Tina decided to stretch out in the parking lot and watch the stars while Lyndon showed a tree who was boss. The things those scamps get up to when I'm not around.

Best of all, we're invited to another party tomorrow night. Whee!

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