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Peevy

Posted by K. Greer on 8/17/2010 in , ,
As you may recall from an earlier post (I Haiku. Do you?), I work with a bunch of degenerate creatives.

That said, they are the reason I drive in my little box on wheels to this building (a box) to sit in my office (yet another box) 40 hours a week. (Digression: I didn't come up with that little philosophical gem on my own. I got it from "The Box" -- the most horrible movie that ever was made, which was, somehow, chock full o' great one-liners.)

The most recent anti-minutiae activity we devised was a list of pet peeves. This list of 23 egregious transgressions took a full year to compile. This is mainly because it was posted off the main drag, at the top of the writers' hall, attached to my office door, right next to my giant "K" and irreverent cartoons about office life.

Considering a few of these peeves involved writers bashing artists and artists bashing writers, you'd think this is a hostile environment. Au contraire mon frere. This is where genius is born -- and genius drives out anger, envy, laziness and all manners of evil. (Except for greed. Our greed is firmly intact.) So, with no further ado, I give you the list of personal annoyances as catalogued by the Publications Department.

THE LIST
1) People who text while driving
2) People who put on cologne without showering
3) People who don't wave after you let them merge
4) People who say "Valentimes" instead of "Valentine's"
5) Hallmark holidays
6) People who state/ask the obvious
7) People who say "old timers" instead of "Alzheimer's." [Writer's note: Not really a funny pet peeve, but it irks me just the same.]
8) People who say "liberry" instead of "library"
9) People who are bitter about Valentine's Day
10) Grammar Nazis who obsess over pronunciation and spelling
11) People who make up Pet Peeves list [written next to this one: "listS"]
12) People who correct the Pet Peeve above them
13) Designers who think they're writers
14) Why do some people axe a question instead of ask?
15) No excuse for not knowing the phone system after 6 months [written next to this one: How about 12 years?]
16) People who can't read the instructions and get out the front door
17) When you hit "print" but it doesn't automatically print and you walk to the printer but have to go back and hit the "print" button again
18) People who say "cool beans." What does that mean?!
19) People who mention the race of the people in stories when it's irrelevant
20) People who say itch when they mean scratch
21) People who correct people all of the time [This was directed toward me and signed "From Everyone"]
22) People who cannot lay papers flat within an "In" tray
23) When people call the publications department "pubs"

Now, there were a few from our admin in there, too. It shouldn't be too hard to pick those out. She's all about everything being in its place, which is kinda the reason this place runs like a well-oiled ... well ... runner.

Before you go, I've got a favor to ask: Click on the "Comments" thought bubble at the top right and tell me what truly ticks you off. I've just gotta know!

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Holy Sh*t! First George Foreman, Now Mr. T

Posted by K. Greer on 7/28/2010
"Darla, that looks finger licking good! I'm starting to get 'hongry' again!" Aw, hell. Just skip to 3:53. It's the comedy gold we're all waiting to guffaw/shake our lowered heads in shame over.



I have three things to say about Mr. T hawking Flavor Waves:

1) Clearly I'm late. This hilarious hilarity has been on the air for at least a year, and somehow I've missed out on poot-inducing laughter for this long.

2) I am not mad at Mr. T for parlaying his mid-80s fame into a lucrative infomercial/video game/candy bar* peddling career. Kudos!

3) If you watched a little further than the section about his pity, you saw the host, "Darla", carefully placing some Flavor Wave bling around Mr. T's neck in some sort of cable access TV knighting.

Now, before I end here, I must show you the Snicker's commercial* you probably never saw. I'm not sure how it was offensive to the gay community but, apparently, it was.



That's right. He said "jibber jabber." You may call your friends now.

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1

Word Up!

Posted by K. Greer on 7/28/2010 in , , ,
Shakespeare was a bad-ass dude. You and I both know it. He helped shape the way theater is performed -- and perceived. He inspired poets and playwrights worldwide. He is haunting high-schoolers and their summer reading lists at this very moment.

But, did you know that (and I take full responsibility for the mind blowing that is about to occur) Shakespeare is in the business of possession?! OK, well, maybe I'm exaggerating just a skosh, but he has affected much of what you say on a daily basis, and you had no freakin' idea! (So, maybe the "possession" thing isn't so far fetched, after all.) You're just his marionette, and old Bill is pulling your mouth strings to say his made-up little phrases.* Things like:

All that glitters is not gold
Bated breath
Dead as a doornail
Fancy-free
Fool’s paradise
For goodness’ sake
Good riddance
Heart of gold
In a pickle
Knock knock! Who’s there?
Laughing stock
Love is blind
Naked truth
Neither rhyme nor reason
One fell swoop
Star-crossed lovers
Pomp and circumstance
Pound of flesh
Primrose path
Too much of a good thing
Wear my heart upon my sleeve
What’s in a name?
Wild goose chase
The world’s my oyster

Boom! In your face! You thought your mom coined those little tidbits, didn't you? Well, she didn't. Big Willy did. So take that.

Much of the things your friend convinced you that he "came up with" were first said long, long ago by someone a lot smarter. But it's true that new words are added to the dictionary every year as we begin to communally accept new terms (like when "friend" became a verb). It's what helps our language evolve. It's what allows different generations to communicate with each other in inventive ways that are now -- through social media, the mass production of books, blogs and so much more -- indelible in the history of our world.

Now, before you go repeating infamous terms like "Internets" and "refudiate", remember that not all words that make it into pop culture are fit for public use. If you wanna be sure you're coming off clever (and not clueless), keep copying Shakespeare. He's tried and true. With that said, "all's well that ends well." Deuces.

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Gag Me with a Spoon … In My Dreams.

Posted by K. Greer on 5/10/2010 in ,

You’ve heard of people talking in their sleep, right? Walking? Thanks to Ambien, it’s been alleged that some people even drive in their sleep. Well, have I got a new one for you. My daughter, the beautiful love of my life that she is, has taken her sleepy-time craziness to a whole new level with – get this – sleep vomiting. That’s right. Early-morning earling. Pre-dawn puking. Unconscious upchucking.

The little princess woke up this morning completely grossed out by the puddle the “dog” had left smack dab in the middle of her desk. Mr. Do Right and I had the same confused response to her horrified cries: “How did Guapo [our 6.5 pound Chihuahua] get up to your desk?!” She answered, without missing a beat, “My chair is right there!”

Well, believe me, what was on that desk was more than the entire contents of poor Guapo’s body cavity at any given time. It was looking more and more like our little canine had nothing to do with this messy package. He was an innocent bystander who was oblivious to the plot being built around him.

Just when we were about to accept her explanation for the gastric grossness, we heard the dog bark … from his kennel … in the basement … where he’d been all night. When the princess realized it couldn’t have been the doggie, she gasped at her latest sleepwalking escapade. She cleaned up the mess, all the while shaking her head and retching. Repeatedly.

Now, not that this is relevant at all, but I’ve just gotta put it out there. It’s all Mr. Do Right’s fault. He passed the gene along, marking my children with this affliction. He’s the crazy sleep-talking/sleep-arguing/night terror-having/looking-for-elves-behind-our-headboard bestower of crazy. I simply manage the crazy that surrounds me.

So, dear followers of mine, pray for the future wives and husband of my children, that they may be blessed with patience of Hillary Clinton, the nurturing spirit of the Jolie-Pittses and the wisdom of Dr. Phil. They’ll need it all.


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Look, Mama!

Posted by K. Greer on 4/22/2010 in , ,
I love words. God knows I do. But sometimes, they're just unnecessary.




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Self-Promotion

Posted by K. Greer on 4/22/2010 in , ,
I am hereby officially and dramatically slamming my professional and personal worlds together. Before now, I'd limited access to my corner of the blogosphere to a select few friends who I knew wouldn't judge my offensive language, my love affair with the grape or my tendency toward the dramatic.

Now, thanks to author Hollis Gillespie (aka Bleachy Haired Honkey Bitch) via my tenacious, bite-sized friend Natalie, I realize that my success depends on sharing a piece of my "energy" with the world.

So, here goes. Welcome to the buttoned-up side of K.




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Tall, Pale and Nerdy. Hummina, Hummina!

Posted by K. Greer on 4/19/2010 in , , , , ,
I want Zachary Levi to have my babies.

PLEASE do not interrupt my fantasy with reminders about anatomy and probability. The sad fact is this: I have an unlikely fetish. I really "dig" nerdy white guys. Don't judge me.

Now, before I go any further, forget your black mail aspirations. Mr. Do Right is well aware that geek chic gets my motor running. He's OK with this -- probably because, he's tall (6'3"), dark (as in "black is beautiful") and handsome (bald-headed yummy-ness!). And because he could squish any curly-haired, tongue-tied geek who'd step out of our plasma TV and into our living room.

That said, the Zack Braffs, Paul Rudds and, yes, Zachary Levis of the world could clumsily spill soup on me any day!

BELOW: Levi as Chuck .... and Levi as himself. See? SEE?!














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4

Don't Push Send

Posted by K. Greer on 2/15/2010 in , , ,
I am absolutely and undeservingly blessed with friends who keep me off the edge. I don't mean every now and again. I mean that way too often I find my friends protecting me ... from myself.

Today is a prime example.
I had an awesome lunch with
some of my closest gal
pals --
something we haven't done in many, many moons.
During the lunch, we shared awesome fake Mexican food and some primo mid-day Margaritas. (Mine was something called the Texan. It's said to loosen your lips without making you need to call a cab.) I mean, all was right with the world. Then I got the email.

It was one of those passive-aggressive deals. You know the ones that accuse you of something without displaying the balls to actually call you by name. What's worse is that it was a group distribution. Yeah. One of those.

After I checked myself for needing to be checked in the first place, I thought of a few things to say to the sender of the email. It went something like, "Grow an effing pair. Call me out. Be authentic and let's work from there." Of course, my email was nothing like that. That's what I would have liked to say, but my substantial social graces (and a small angel on my shoulder that bore a striking resemblance to my husband) edited my email to read something more like, "Next time, just call me out personally." Neither email saw the light of day. Wanna know why? Because, as I've said in the header of this blog, my friends rock. More descriptively, they kick ass.

I called one of those kick-ass friends to vent -- as I was typing the email. I asked, "Am I wrong for sending this?"- fully expecting her to answer, "Hell, no! Check that trick!" Instead, she asked, "Did you already send it?" "No," I answered. Her reply? "Don't push send." While my aggravated ego wanted nothing more than to reply to all and then push send (over and over again), I heeded the warning of a wise, "tenured" friend (See how I avoided the word "old?" I'm a genius like that.) and canceled the email.

I thank God that I have friends to remind me every now and again that I'm being impulsive or stupid or hypocritical or over-sensitive or neurotic or any of the many disturbing things I tend to be from time to time. In fact, everybody needs someone in his or her life who can look said "one" in the eyes when necessary and say, "Hey, stupid. Don't push send." I'm glad I have friends like that. Now, the real question is why they're having to say it to me so often. Hmm. Self-reflection makes my head hurt.

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