Beth Labonte's Blog, page 7

Boss’s Voice The Absolute Worst, Study Shows

I just noticed this post still sitting in my "Scheduled" folder from May 2011....way to go Blogger.  So here you have it, 16 months later.

 
Introduction

A 2011 double-blind study, conducted by pretty much everybody that has ever worked with you, confirmed that the sound of your voice is, without any margin of error, the absolute worst. While initial results suggested that your voice was somewhat grating on Monday, moderately frustrating on Tuesday through Thursday, vomit-worthy on Friday, and mocked incessantly over beers on Saturday and Sunday, further analysis has concluded that, for real, you should just stop talking. 
Research Method 
The control group, who enjoyed listening to a voice other than yours, continued to live in blissful ignorance of your existence and displayed no desire to bring brass knuckles into the workplace. The experimental group, on the other hand, was subjected to a horrifying, and just plain gross, sequence of longitudinal waves (your voice) that caused auditory discomfort and regular Sunday night sobbing sessions (particularly when the longitudinal waves claimed that they asked for that status report a week ago when all of the test subjects knew damn well that never happened). 
Conclusion 
“An experiment such as this is invaluable to society,” says lead researcher, Vladamir Borscht. “Now, when Boss’s Cell shows up on caller ID, we have the scientific evidence we need to just not fucking answer it.” 
Further studies are needed to determine whether the mere sound of you breathing is enough to kill somebody.
I'm going to need you to work through lunch

Another Sad Day for the Burger King Sign

DIY Fall Frames

Well here they are!




































They came out even better than I expected.  I almost bought some cheap sticker letters, but then I saw these wood ones and am so glad I did.  I painted them black, glued them to some scapbook paper, took the glass out of the frames, and that was it.  I also have an "L" last name so I can even keep the L ones out year round.

When Ordering Sandwiches For Your Boss Isn't Fulfilling Enough

Before I had a kid I used to do a lot of scrapbooking.  This was back when I could spend an entire Sunday watching Lifetime movies with a cup of coffee, a glue stick, and a package of stickers that said things like "Ho Ho Ho!"  Ironically, now that I have a child whose face could potentially fill 14,000 pages of scrapbooks, I've stopped completely.  I stopped mostly because I just didn't have the time anymore, but also because while scrapbooks are nice, they really are just books that you end up stacking up somewhere never to be looked at again.

But now....now I have a house.  Now I have walls and tables that need to be decorated.  And probably much to my husband's chagrin, the arts & crafter in me lives on.  Don't worry, I won't start knitting sweaters for the lamps or anything like that.  But I did feel that old spark of creative glee when I decided to put together this vintage family photo display a few months ago:



You see, when you work as a secretary the most creative thing that you do all day is locate an address on a Google map.  Sometimes you get to put the word "DRAFT" onto a Word document in block letters.  So you often forget what it feels like to actually enjoy doing something.  Sometimes I get that feeling after I write something that I think is really good (so, like, once every four years).  Or sometimes I get it when I'm playing the piano (once every ten years, usually at Christmas).  And I definitely used to get it when wandering the aisles of the craft store.  It's a great feeling - like you just drank four cups of coffee, only you don't have to pee.

And so, long story short, I recently started searching Pinterest for Fall craft ideas (although some would advise against it).   You could spend your entire lifetime just clicking through Martha Stewart projects.  You would then need to have your head cryogenically frozen and re-attached to a robot with pinking shears for hands in order to complete them all.  Anyway, I love this staircase silhouette, though it's way too creepy to have in my own house:

http://www.marthastewart.com/266748/s...
No, I don't want to traumatize my three year old the next time he heads upstairs to take a bath.  Instead I'm going to start with these cute Fall frames from A Diamond in the Stuff:

I will let you know how it turns out.  And if I do start knitting sweaters for the lamps, you can catch me on the next episode of Divorce Court. 

Sevvy Hounds

Ah, if only that could explain away all the annoying behavior going on at my office, I would feel a lot better about the human race.  If I could be certain that guy was only microwaving haddock filets for the purpose of obtaining sevvy, well then, I take back everything I said about him deserving to be run through by a swordfish.  Perhaps him, and the woman who pees all over the seat in the ladies room, just have more guts than I do.  Maybe six months from now they'll be home collecting their sevvy, having the last laugh, while I'm stuck here in this non-fish smelling, urine-free, hell-hole. 
Maybe.  
If you want to check out some folks who are doing this kind of thing for real (and by "for real" I mean "in a fictional internet mini series") check out Sevvy Hounds - a comedy web series about using company layoffs to your advantage. Because for some people, getting laid off is the only chance they have of getting out of the corporate world that they've grown to hate.  For some people, "your job is safe" is the last thing that they want to hear.
Watch Episode 1 below, and the rest of them here on Sevvy Hounds' YouTube channel.

They've even added a bonus epilogue episode to top off Season 1.  So if you find that you've finished all the episodes and it's still only 3:30 p.m., no need to worry. 

Listen up, Christian Grey...

...and all you women who are head over heels in love with this jerk. If they have to print up pamphlets describing the so-called man of your dreams and place them in public restrooms with telephone numbers and tips for escape on the back...THERE IS SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG.

Sir Topham Hat Would Be Cross

I have some serious gripes with this Thomas & Friends "Right on Track!" bullshit magnetic board and drawing book published by those assholes over at Phidal Publishing, Inc.  Let's take a look:

Here is the product description:








Hey, that sounds like fun! 
And here is the sample from the back cover:


























Look at those detailed drawing instructions.  Look at all of those intricate lines.  Look at all those different colors. There are four precise steps to follow.  There's even a facial expression on Thomas.  Now take a look at this close-up of the picture that some six year old Picasso apparently drew:



























You're telling me, Phidal Publishing, Inc., that someone drew this ON A FUCKING MAGNETIC BOARD?  Those skinny little pencil lines? That perfect number "1"?  Those wheels and axles and that little pipe attached to Thomas's ass.  All of that shit was drawn using magnetic particles and A PEN THAT LOOKS LIKE THIS:




Jesus Christ, Phidal Publishing.  How do you think I feel when my two year old asks me to draw him that same picture of Thomas and it comes out LOOKING LIKE THIS:
NOT GOOD you false-advertising sons of bitches.  Not.  Good.  

Quote of the Day

"Been working a lot.  It's in a laundromat, it's totally corporate.  It's like rigid, all kinds of red tape, my boss is a dick, the owner, super dick, don't know if we're ever going to meet him, everybody's scared of the dude. Place is full of dead-eyed douchebags, the hours suck, and nobody knows what's going on." - Jesse Pinkman, Breaking Bad
I think he speaks for all of us. 

Story of my (work) life

The worst book that ever was and ever will be: A review of Fifty Shades of Grey

I can no longer live in a reality where Fifty Shades of Grey is considered, by some, the greatest romance novel they have ever read.  I can't even live in a reality where a few people say it was an okay book.
Goodbye cruel world. 
I never expected it to be this terrible.  I never even thought it possible for a book this terrible to get published.  But here it is, so we may as well warm up with a few quotes:
"I'll agree to the fisting, but I'd really like to claim your ass, Anastasia."
"Anticipation runs bubbling like soda through my veins."
"And he hits me again and again.  From somewhere deep inside, I want to beg him to stop. but I don't.  I don't want to give him the satisfaction. He continues the unrelenting rhythm. I cry out six more times. Eighteen slaps in total. My body is singing, singing from his merciless assault."  (Then, after a round of violent sex, comes this quote): "Well done, baby," he whispers, quiet joy in his voice. His words curl  around me like a soft fluffy towel from the Heathman Hotel, and I'm so pleased that he's happy. (Ugh, please).
"My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me.  After all, he did say he was glad Kate didn’t do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment." (How could he possibly like you, Ana?  You have BROWN hair).
"Grey smiles a dazzling, unguarded, natural, all-teeth-showing, glorious smile."             
  "Two orgasms...coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow."  (Ms. James has taken a line used by sexually frustrated neighbors on 80's sitcoms, referring to how they pleasure themselves by sitting on the washing machine during spin cycle, and then used it totally wrong). 
"He’s my very own Christian Grey flavor popsicle."  (Get it?)Followed by:  "My mouth pops open as I gasp and swallow at the same time."   (Tricky).            
I think you get the point.  Now let me delve a little further into why the writing made  me want to vomit all over the inside of Charlie Tango:
Extreme overuse of certain phrases:  Oh my, I blush, I flush, holy hell, holy crap, holy cow, holy f*ck, crap, double crap, crapola, my breath hitches, his breath hitches, his eyes were hooded, and endless references to "down there."  Down where? Oh, down there.  Cue the sound of a creaky old door opening and bats flying out.  But seriously, one of these phrases shows up on every single page.
EL James has no idea that there's a difference between a subconscious and a conscience.  Ana is constantly fighting with her "subconscious," who is some sort of mix between a prudish librarian and a Ricki Lake audience member ("You a ho!").   She's that little voice that is always telling Ana what she's doing is wrong.  You know, YOUR CONSCIENCE.  You subconscious is just what it sounds like - below consciousness.  You don't know it's there, and you definitely don't converse with it - unless maybe your name is Sybil.
EL James likes to use words that nobody has ever heard of.  In the middle of Ana using words like "crapola," we'll suddenly see the word "avuncular" or "mercurial."  Huh? Avuncular?  Look lady, nobody knows what that word means, especially not your half-wit of a heroine.
And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse Ana starts referring to Christian as "my Fifty Shades."  OMFG THAT'S THE NAME OF THE BOOK!! LOLOLOLOLOL!  Which is only one of many overused cutesy nicknames such as "the mean machine" instead of "laptop," and the literary abomination that is "Laters baby."
Now let's take a look at why Anastasia Steele sucks:
1.  She never stops having orgasms.  She loses her virginity to Christian in a horribly unromantic and violent way, but there she is having not just orgasms, but earth-shattering, mind blowing multiple orgasms where she is just out of her mind, shattered to smithereens, swirling and writhing, head spinning around on her shoulders with steam coming out of her ears, deaf, dumb, and blinded with sheer ecstasy.  Then her inner goddess gives her a high five and wraps a pair of pantyhose around her neck.   AND THAT WAS AFTER HER FIRST TIME.  The next day she wakes up a little sore, but gladly lets Christian pound her again.
2.  She becomes mentally retarded the second Mister sculptured lips hangy-pants so much as hands her the remote control.  At one point she actually asks, in all seriousness, if it's "legal to look that good?"  She loses all ability to speak, think, walk, and use her medulla oblongata (don't look at me, Ana mentions it several times).
I think that most of this relates to the fact that she has zero self-esteem.  She thinks she's unattractive, klutzy, and worst of all - she's a brunette!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!! Everyone knows brunettes are hideous! No man will ever love you Ana!  Face the facts!  Just oil up that butt plug and get on with it already.  CHRISTIAN GREY IS YOUR ONLY OPTION YOU HIDEOUS BROWN-HAIRED MONSTER!
4.  She doesn't care that Christian is a controlling, abusive, mind-f*ck, because he's just so darn hot.  Her self esteem is so low that she literally says she would do anything to be with him.  "Anything" includes allowing herself to be whipped, spanked, and stalked across the country, even though he scares the hell out of her.  She says that she's in love with this man who she can't even make a joke around without being terrified that he's going to get angry and spank her. 
All of these things, and more, made Ana a weak, pathetic, joke of a character.
Why Christian Grey sucks:
I don't care how huge his d*ck is, or how much money he has, the man has absolutely nothing to offer. Between his lack of personality, his lack of a sense of humor, and his general desire to beat women into submission as some sick form of "caring" for them, he is nothing but a disgusting self-centered pig. Oh he was abused as a child? He didn't get enough love? Fine, that's a perfectly reasonable explanation  for him turning out the way he did, but it's no excuse for what he's doing to Ana.  If two adults are both into that lifestyle and the woman is begging you to beat her with a riding crop, then okay fine.  Maybe that's how real BDSM relationships work, I don't know. What I do know is that's not the case with this book. Christian Grey is a manipulator, who takes a girl with no experience, no self-esteem, and no mind of her own, and convinces her to do things she's not comfortable with in order to "please him."  He wants to hurt her. He's stated it several times.
And to top it all off, Ana is just giddy with joy over the idea that someone like him could actually like her. The idea that a man who is controlling, threatening, physically violent, and doesn't allow you the time or space to have your own life and thoughts, is actually romantic, is a seriously disturbing trend.  
And so I conclude, so I may get on with my life...
As a self-published author myself, I am not sure I would want to make my millions off of a book like this.  I'm not the type to sucker people out of their money and then laugh all the way to the bank.  Oh I would still go to the bank, for sure.  Most of us dream of being rich.  But I would go to the bank with my head down. I would go to the bank with a promise in my mind to one day make up for perpetuating this twisted and dangerous version of love. I'd send a damn lot of my money to charity.
That would almost be fifty shades of decent. But I won't hold my breath.