Regarding the discussion about e-mail signatures conducted while I was busy making a productive contribution to society: <a class="postlink" href="http://iii.bobulate.com/2007/11/second-chance-for-a-last-impression/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;">http://iii.bobulate.com/2007/11/second- ... mpression/</a> Personally, my e-mails contain neither salutations nor valedictions. E-mail is all about concision. Or, it would be, if my employer didn't tack on a signature containing a highly compressed yet 3 MB .bmp logo, my full name with the title professionally misspelled, eighteen phone numbers and a five-paragraph disclaimer marking the contents of my chain e-mail about haunted kittens as TOP FUCKING SECRET and instructing anyone who receives it in error to print it out, eat the page, then light themselves on fire to destroy the evidence. Edit: Also, if you close with "cheers" and you aren't clinking a beer mug or speaking in a GEICO gecko accent, then fuck you.
I'm going to put a picture of my tits in my email signature and see what happens. You can add me as a statistic to that graph, right?
The problem is that people come here to bitch about things. I whine about the current job and how hard it is to see people in medical states no young person should ever find themselves in, or the moving around to different cities with minimal input. I don't talk about how I signed up for the job for this exact reason, both the seeing horrifying shit and moving around. And how, even though it might be hard to see someone in rough shape, I'd rather be there trying to sort shit out than hide somewhere else. And I know that once my internship ends and I go do more banal things with much healthier people, I'm going to feel depressed and useless and sit around and wax romantic about how I used to be doing real shit with real sick people, solving real difficult issues. Even if it is going to be a lot easier and less stressful. And I used to bitch about my relationship with what is now the ex. And now I say shit like how she'd rather live near bubble tea and chinese food and her parents than live with me. I don't talk about how we miss each other more than anything else. You ever meet hooker or her husband? I haven't met her husband. I actually don't know how they get on together. But I'd go out on a long limb and say there's a lot more to the relationship than she's told us.
Signatures don't matter as much as content does. This shit was sent out school wide by the superintendent: Spoiler The Bridge A man on his Harley was riding along a California beach when suddenly the sky clouded above his head and, in a booming voice, God said, 'because you have tried to be faithful to me in all ways, I will grant you one wish.' The biker pulled over and said, 'Build a bridge to Hawaii so I can ride over anytime I want.' God replied, 'Your request is materialistic; think of the enormous challenges for that kind of undertaking; the supports required reaching the bottom of the Pacific and the concrete and steel it would take! I can do it, but it is hard for me to justify your desire for worldly things. Take a little more time and think of something that could possibly help mankind.' The biker thought about it for a long time. Finally, he said, 'God, I wish that I, and all men, could understand women; I want to know how she feels inside, what she's thinking when she gives me the silent treatment, why she cries, what she means when she says nothing's wrong, why she snaps and complains when I try to help, and how I can make a woman truly happy. God replied: 'You want two lanes or four on that bridge?"
I have no doubt about that. Bob Trousers made a point a few drunk threads ago that we were all becoming caricatures of ourselves, though, and I think to a certain extent that's true. Why are you only posting the one extreme side of yourself here? Why not just be normal?
Ugh. The inter-office emails I get range from guys in the shop sending me emails with the entire body of the message in the subject in all caps to the most formal, "technical writing" style emails with the aforementioned overly long signature blocks. (And the guy who does the latter has a really obnoxious graph paper pattern as the background to all his emails.)
You dont want to start flinging those things around without a proper evaluation first. I'd just "see what happens" as sort of a community service.
Call me a hypocrite (although I did admit to wearing heels when I want to get gussied up) I had drinks then went shopping and ended up buying the most girliest of all heels (they have actual feathers on them) that I will probably never wear because I am quite positive that they will hurt my feet. But in true guy fashion, my husband asked if I could wear them tomorrow, even though it is a halloween party and isn't really in the correct theme of my costume.
Did anybody read StayFrosty's spoilered rant? Jesus. Sometimes, I get depressed. And then I read about shit like that, and I feel all better.
Two things: one, I think most people see through it when posters posture. You might think you're being e-tough or e-sexy or e-ironic, but really you're seen as being e-lame. Two, why is being seen as an annoying shit (or out of control addict, or desperate housewife) preferable to being seen as normal? That question is for the group. Feel free to discuss. NSFW *picture unrelated
You know that scene in Dumb & Dumber, when Lloyd is supposed to get just the "essentials" at the store, and he comes walking into frame with two cases of Coors Light, four foil pinwheels, and a paddle ball while wearing an oversized foam cowboy hat? The way he pauses and does a combination of double-take / longing as he looks at the newspaper box for Rhode Island Slut magazine is awesome. Jim Carrey is genius.
I love when he talks to the two guys in the parking lot drinking the 'big gulps'. Very few people do that type of humor that well.
Yeah, I can talk about normal things with people at work. I've had the same damn conversation at least fifteen times about how much French I know, how much Italian I know, how I learned it, how easy it was, the difference between Quebec and French French. And the perennial question of just what, exactly, I do for a living and "how does that work?" It's boring. I don't want to talk about it anymore, and the things I talk about here are the things I don't talk about work. Nobody knows I ended a four year relationship. Nobody knows about my drinking habits. Hell, most of the people I work with would start assessing me for the DTs and stage an intervention if they knew - and I don't even drink that much. The most risque thing that's occurred was the ward clerk calling me a closet freak because I knew that you could buy portable stripper poles. And if a supervisor were there, shit would have gone down because that doesn't mesh with the institution's policy of respect in the workplace. For what it's worth, this person not five seconds earlier stated that, as a Christian, she couldn't celebrate a "holiday" that glorifies the devil.