quick bleep about my weekend

I spent my entire weekend watching The Office (I finished the 2nd and 3rd seasons and right now I'm a couple of episodes from the 4th season - thanks to Captain Jack Sparrow). I was swamped with work for the past two weeks (this includes weekends which means... it means a lot) and I thought that it would be nice/refreshing to spend my weekend away from anything that would remind me of work. So I decided to watch The Office. Obviously, my plan didn't work the way it was supposed to because the TV show's title and theme reminded me of work all the time. But surprisingly, I had fun. The show's utterly funny and the characters are so not fake and so not real either. you know what? I can probably name a couple of people at work that is an exact replica of a Dwight (as much as I hate to say this, but I too have my Dwight Schrute moments - SOMETIMES) or an Angela, a Kelly, a Kevin and perhaps an Oscar(this one I'm not really sure). And of course, Toby definitely embodies the true blunt spirit of HR. Unfortunately, I don't think that there's a Michael Scott at the place where I work. And, having seen the show, I can honestly say that it blows to not have a Michael Scott at work. Only Dunder Mifflin's got a Michael Scott - those lucky bastards...

Anyways, for those of you who don't know, Dwight has a blog and you can read it here.

email fu

I think I have a thing for writing. I call it "a thing" because most certainly, I ain't the Mr. Miyagi of writing but I believe that my wax-in-wax-out-writing skills are not that bad either. This is not about me having literary writing skills of epic proportions, NO. It's just that somehow I have a feeling that people take the things I write more seriously than the things that I say.

Like recently, I sent an email to this computer shop (let's just call the computer shop Thinking Tools, Inc. because that's the real name of the shop and getting them into trouble is that last thing on my mind right now... seriously) and the response was surprisingly overwhelming. You see, I bought an mp3 player from that shop. Unfortunately for me, the mp3 player decided to stop acting like one after using it for just two months (my hunch is that it wanted to be an iPod - nothing wrong with being gay). So I brought it back to have it repaired. The thing is, I've been a frequent visitor at that shop for the passed four months and every time I pay these guys a visit, they always have a ridiculous excuse that would - for them - justify why my mp3 player is not yet fixed. I tried asking them for details, and they just repeat what they've said earlier and then, look at me with those go-away-we-just-work-here look.

So last Friday, I sent them a tasty wax-in-wax-out email and wallah! My mp3 had been miraculously fixed, my warranty had also been miraculously extended AND according to their email, they'll also give me some sort of complementary gift.

I guess that's why I call it "a thing". It's not that extraordinary, but it certainly got my mp3 player fixed along with other nice perks. I was almost tempted to post the email on this blog but... err, maybe some other time.

another opportunity to pollute the so-called "blogsphere"

Could there be anything else in this world worth loathing more, other than people?

The funny thing about that question is that you can replace the word "loathing" with any other word. Perhaps it would sound better as long as it ends with i-n-g. You can use "loving", "hating", "poking", "hugging", "screwing", etc... Regardless of the word's underlying connotation, the question would still make sense, most especially to mentally challenged retards like myself.

Seriously, though. This all started out with me pretending to type something on the computer because I feel like an idiot waiting for my downloads to finish and not doing anything worthwhile. I mean, writing a blog post(no matter how nonsensical) is far better than sticking my right index finger to my left nostril searching for soft and sticky foreign objects and what not. So, yeah. I guess that right there puts an undeniably huge question mark on my seriously-though phrase earlier.

Oops, I think my downloads are done. I have to go now... it sure was nice chatting with an imaginary audience. Seriously.