My hair is about the same texture. And I own a brush.
My parents were generous with the genes. I have ten fingers, can perform simple arithmetic in my head, and am generally employable. Let’s be clear on my gratitude before I start to whine.
One area in which their chromosomes did not work to my favor? Hair. I was a bald baby, and – based on the hair in my shower drain – am returning that state with haste. Which, while acceptable for a man, is a serious curse as woman.
I saw this a few weeks ago and thought it would’ve been old news on the internets by now. However, based on a) the number of blank looks I’ve received when quoting snippets, and b) the number of people who also haven’t seen the HoneyBadger video, I’m thinking that “going viral” in the YouTube sense is somewhat different than pink eye making the rounds in my office.
Consider this a Public Service Announcement then. Because it’s for your own good, but more in the “pop culture” category than the “eat your veggies” category:
You’re welcome.
One of my colleagues received a George Washington Chia Head as a gift for Christmas. It has been sitting in a box on his desk for months, begging to be re-gifted. After a glass of work-place wine, we all decided to open the box and get the Office Chia started.
I’ve never owned a Chia Pet before, so I’m absurdly excited. When I saw its claim that it will be fully-grown in two weeks, I made a bold decision:
“You know the guy who took his own picture every day for eight years?” I asked.
My colleagues nodded. “Well, get ready to give it a run for its money. Because we will take a picture of Chia George every day until it’s fully grown. Except on weekends.”
I could tell they were pretty impressed with my commitment to the project, based on the silence that followed.
Or maybe they were just thinking, “But then we’ll have to watch our chia start young and awkward, have a brief hottie period, then end up looking like a bike courier who refuses to groom himself.”
Or maybe that’s just my take on the photo guy.
Regardless, upon examining the contents of the box, my excitement was dashed. No one warned me that there would be PAPERWORK involved! Ack!
Apparently, it’s important to register your Chia. (Because someone might steal it? Not sure.)
Here’s a photo of the form:
Paperwork like this is why I've never adopted a baby.
While Alan’s stuck in London for work, he’s encouraged me to use his community’s pool. And since it’s been hovering around 100 degrees and humid, I’ve taken him up on the offer. Repeatedly.
Yesterday, after swimming my mile, it was so hot that I just stood in the shallow end and read 100 pages of a book.
Hell, it’s been so hot that the lifeguard himself stands in the pool half the time. I can’t blame him.
Speaking of the lifeguard, I gave Alan a full report on him the other day so he would know what he was missing. (Each year the lifeguard is a kid from some Eastern European country here as part a summer exchange program. I’m sure they envision Baywatch and are mildly disappointed to realize they’ll be assigned to a pool in suburban Virginia with decidedly American waist-lines.)
This year’s lifeguard, whom we’ll call Grigor, is a bit clumsy. Or he has bad luck. Either way, I’ve had a lot of updates for Alan.
Shockingly (to those of you who ONLY know me through this blog), I have directly hired (and, sadly, fired) a not insignificant number of people in my day. (By which I mean more than 50, and fewer than 100. Probably. But I’m too lazy to do the math.)
If you are currently looking for a new job, this is your lucky day. Because you’re about to receive valid advice from a REAL PERSON (one who swears, eats at food trucks and mocks people for farting in yoga), as opposed to some SHRM-bot that only gives vanilla tips for getting hired.
For background: I’m currently looking for a salesperson with almost ten years’ strategic sales experience and a strong book of contacts in a specific industry. And yet…
pithypants 