AIR

Is it so much to ask for?

Is it so difficult to attain?

All we ask is for a maintenance man who does more than open the panel, tighten a screw, close the panel, and say, "Eeeeeyup.  That should do it."

Really?  That's all it takes to fix an air conditioner?

We are dying.

DYING.

If that dumb cold air doesn't start pouring itself over me like a bubbling brook, I might have to start wearing a swimsuit to work.  I wonder what the office reaction will be.....

The Roach

There was a deliberate attack on my life today.  It was obviously premeditated, because there is no other way it could have taken place.

So there I was, reaching into my desk drawer to get tea.  The individually wrapped bags still sit in their box, set apart from the pens and the only pencil sharpener in the office.  I began to pick up one of the bags...and saw it. It was small, red, and had tiny demon wings on its back.

I couldn't help it--I squealed, tossed the box so the bug fell out onto the floor, and then began laughing.  Who wouldn't?  It's not like the bug was any bigger than my pinkie nail.

From the room next to me, He Who Shall Not Be Named yelled at us to be quiet.  We hushed.   I went to the kitchen to make my tea and when I returned to my office, I put the mug down and went to see if the bug had escaped from under my desk, making it easier to squish him.  Moving a box from behind my desk, the bug leaped out at me, scaring out another squeal and more laughter.

He Who Shall Not Be Named came to our door and yelled again for us to "shut the f*@# up" because he "has people working here." 


Oh, yes, he's in a grand mood today.  Huzzah.

Bugs!

Whilst reaching into her drawer just now, the Head Hamster unforuntately discovered a roach, and brilliantly shook it out of her tea box onto the floor of our office. Needless to say, neither of us are hardened bug hunters and this resulted in a fair amount of "OMG WHERE IS IT?!" and surprised yelps when it skittered across the floor.

Which, apparently, is no beuno according to He Who Shall Not Be Named. He deemed it necessary to remind us that there are other people working in the office (psh, 'work,' right) in a yelling tone of voice.

This bug is so dead. No one scares the daylight out of us and then gets us in trouble. No, sir.

Say wha--?

He Who Shall Not Be Named has an interesting approach to grammar.  Let's just say that talkin' purty ain't one o' his strong points.  No, he's not a hick. He's just very...interesting.  Here are a few golden nuggets from our most recent meeting:

"You know, putting value in the title will really show people what the value is."

"Nah, I ain't never doin' that."

"So I'm f*****g looking at this and I just wanna know, what the f*** is this?"

"People just don't wanna read s***.  Here's what I want you to do...  K, look at ABC here; we gotta make it shorter.  And then add a couple of reviews and some links to Facebook and Twitter.  Now, make sure you get a good list of what XYZ is, and describe it really well.  Just don't let it get too long, all right?"

Ah, yes. Thank you.  That was very clearly put. 

Dobby's a Health Nut!

Typos of the Day (surprisingly, not mine):

"You, too, can get these results trough our program!" 

"An out-of-shape body won't be as helpful as a healthy doby." 

Because, apparently, large metal bins and house elves are amazing for your health. 

Office sing-along time

I wrote a song to go along with my to-do list for the rest of the day.  Emerson says it's going to be a Grammy-winner for sure.  Be sure to sing it to the tune of whatever the heck you feel like singing it t.  I find it works best with a completely random rhythm and sudden key changes. 

Pictures are awesome
Pictures are great
I like pictures; they are fun to make

But not always because
sooooooooome pictures suck
And they suck a lot and are stupid

Sooooo I like nice pictures
Niiiiiiice pictures!
Really niiiiiiiice pic-tures!

Oh, Computer, you know how I like it

Sometimes when you are good at what you do, you run out of things to do.  There was a time when there was too much work for one person; I skipped lunch and stayed late to get everything done.  Now on some days  we have to scrape the bottom of the work barrel to find something--anything--that remotely resembles work to do.


Yesterday, I had to do just that:


Me: "So after you left last night, I spent, like, 45 minutes organizing the work folders on my computer.  There was a lot to go through."

Emerson: "Well, at least you were seductive."

Me: "...Seductive?"

Emerson: "Productive."

Me: "Oh." (laughter) "Yes, I was very seductive to my computer."

Sure glad we caught that sloth

This does not count as a typo, as it was so promptly corrected that it can't possibly matter.  But the slip-up and ensuing mental image was just too good to pass up.

"Almost every time you buy new eyeshadow or powder, you also get stuck with tiny sloth-covered applicators that last for a month or so if you're lucky."

Make sure you read reeeeeaaaaally carefully to catch it.  Got it?  Now, for your viewing pleasure, here's what I think of when I read this sentence:

Kristin Bell would be proud.

Ladies of the World, Toast Yourselves

There's a new kind of swimsuit making its way into shopping carts all over the world: the tan-through bikini.

Most manufacturers recommend that you apply sunscreen underneath the bikini fabric, which, to Emerson and me, just sounds like they're asking for skin cancer and awkward moments.  We have to make it sound like a great idea that will solve all your pasty-white issues.  What do you think of our write-up so far?

Don't you hate it when your toaster blackens half of your toast and leaves the other half only mildly squishy?  The same thing happens when you lay out in a regular swimsuit.  But if you get a magical tan-through bikini, the only thing you'll have to worry about is getting sunscreen in all those hard-to-reach places.  That and being followed by admirers who want to lather your perfectly toasted body with butter.

Did we mention that it's a one-size-fits-all bikini?  Yeah, that's a fantastic idea.  

What would you do?

Discussing a laser hair removal service, we decide it would be interesting to see if they would perform hair removal on the head. You know, for the hell of it. Because we're weird. 

Miss M: If you could have something permanently etched into your head, what would it be? 

Daisy: I rock. Duh. 

So we're all going to go get things carved into our skulls now. 

Rollie chair

Fifteen minutes ago we were supposed to have a really important meeting about some new website functions for which we Creatives need to create a fancy how-to.  He Who Shall Not Be Named walked on our office, smiled, and then walked away to talk to Joe Bob about cigarettes.

So now Emerson and I are pretending we're at an awkward meeting where the only two people who showed up are the people who have no idea what the meeting is for.  Oh, wait.  We're not pretending. 

While exchanging varying looks of amusement, the writers have become restless.  Thus this snazzy piece of real life, courtesy of Emerson the Eloquent and created during the awkwardness that is fifteen minutes of wondering what the heck we're supposed to be doing:

"I has a rollie chair!  I'm gonna roll everywhere!"

In other reminiscent news, I can remember a day a few months ago when Helga forgot a meeting with the boss man.  She got in major-duper-awful trouble.  Interesting, non?

Maybe I will make up the instructions and we won't need a meeting at all. 

Too Fast

When I was headed out to lunch today, the Jimmy John's guy had just delivered some goods to someone on our floor.  We were leaving at the same time, walking from opposite ends of the hall to the elevators. It was that awkward moment when you're facing a stranger and don't know if you should smile or nod or ignore them or what.

So he did what any normal person would do: sprint the final three steps to push the button before I could.

Before I could do anything, I burst out laughing.  How could you not?  He's a Jimmy John's slave--he's supposed to be quick, right?  He was only doing his job. Still... I really missed pushing that button.

Attention all cannibals

There's this thing about thinking and typing at the same time.  Sometimes it works REALLY well.  Then there are the times when I look back at something and all I can think is, well, whatever laughter sounds like when it's just in your head.

Take this choice piece of text, for example (courtesy of yours truly):


"Sink your teeth into a choice piece of meat, plus a heaping helping of your choice of side, like friends."


While I would definitely say that friends should be good enough to eat, it's probably better that you refrain from doing so.  Once you eat one, you just can't stop.

Enunciate!

What I said: "I'm avoiding the horn thing"

What the Head Hamster thought I said: "I'm avoiding the porn thing."

Guess we know who's got a gutter mind now!

I Do Not Want to be an Apostrophe

So, first off, we're kind of grammar-freaks here at the Hamster Wheel. As in, "Please use your dang apostrophes correctly and, no, we will not add them where they aren't needed!"

We were dealing with one of our clients the other day and he requested we add apostrophes to words such as pencils, aliens, and anacondas. In case you didn't know, apostrophes aren't used to make anything plural, just possessive. So, this guy really wanted to say "belonging to pencils, aliens and anacondas." Which doesn't really make sense.

To that we say:

IMPORTANT

This is very important.  Just as important, say, as I am.  At least, that's what I yelled to the entire office as Emerson left for the day.

...I definitely should have expected someone to respond.  That happens, you know, when you yell things.  People tend to, oh, you know, say something in return.

"I am important!" I yelled.  "I provide essential services to this company!"

"No, you don't," Cheese Nips yelled back.



Huh.  Guess I'm not so important after all.  Or maybe Cheese Nips is just a turd.  (Except not, because we like Cheese Nips.  Both the human and the edible, delicious snack).





P.S. Emerson thinks she's more important! Hah! (yeah, I hijacked the keyboard. Mwahaha)

The Cheesiest

E: What do you think of when you think of "supreme?"

M: Nachos.

E: I can't use nachos in this piece.

M: Nachos. So much nachos.

E: Filled with nachos. Huh.

Be Wary of Pluralization

He Who Shall Not Be Named (through the wall): Hey, Jo Bob, got a sec?

Emerson (sarcastically): No, I have no secs.

Méli: You have no sex?


And then we proceeded to die laughing. A ghost is typing this. I hope you're happy.

-Sexless Emerson

North of Pastorville, south of Shamantown

He Who Shall Not Be Named keeps on talking about a place called "West Minister".  There is a strong possibility that he means to say "Westminster" (as in, we're 100% sure of it).

Anyhow, we were wondering...if the West Minister gets his own city, where does the East Minister live?

And are either of them wicked?

Why we love us

Everyone needs a reason to like themselves, right?  Well, this is one of the many reasons why Emerson and I think we are just the coolest people on the planet:


M: "So I went in and said 'Hi' to Scissors."

E: "Oh, yeah?  What'd he say?"

M: "Eh, just asked how I was doing.  I told him I was awesome because of the lunch in my tummy."

E: "I'm sure he liked that."

M:  "Of course he did.  He asked how I was and I said, 'Oh, man, soooo good, because I just ate this steak quesadilla, and it was like, you know, Chuck Norris and a magical unicorn got together and decided to make lunch, only they made too much, so they gave me their leftovers and now...now life is just fantastic.'"

E: *she laughs*

M: "And then Scissors said that he hopes Chuck didn't make the quesadilla out of the unicorn.  Which makes me wonder, what do you think a unicorn steak quesadilla would taste like?"

E:  "Rainbows.  Duh."




*Please note that no magical unicorns were harmed in the making of Méli's steak quesadilla, but if they were, they tasted like glorious rainbows and deserve monuments erected in the honor of their tasty qualities.

We Don't Know Either

What we really, really want to write right now:

"Hey, fat pants! Move your bum and buy this so you will be beautiful.  We have no idea what it is and no one will find out for us, but that's OK.   It's a mystery purchase that will make you as pretty as an abalone shell on the non-polluted beaches of the Caribbean."


What we will most likely actually write:

"Feeling glum in those old pants?  Get an excuse to buy some new skinny jeans blah blah blah blah..."

Lavender and Vanilla

Helga just walked into our office, grabbed our room spray, ran out and sprayed the rest of the office with it. She, apparently, had been craving the smell of it all night. When she returned, we asked if the entire office was going to smell like that spray now and she started giggling.

Then she snorted and walked out. "On that note...."

Viva la  room spray.

A Day To Remember

Today is a day to remember.

Today...sigh.  Today all we did was create this blog.

Sometimes the life of a writer is so hard, we just don't know how we survive. 

Here's what to expect from us in the future:

1. Craziness (lots and lots of craziness)
2. Hilarious typos (from Emerson)
3. Awkward coworker and client stories (which all actually happened, we promise)
4. As many parentheticals as we can come up with (fer totes)
5. The best things we write but can't publish (because sometimes we just can't help it)



And so we begin.  Méli and Emerson welcome you to The Hamster Wheel.






Mwahahahahaha.