Fridge's Five Stages of Work Related Anger

I have a very nice job. I work at a solid, respected company and have my own cubicle. By no means am I miserable like Dana Complaina. In fact, I tried to get Miss C a job at my company. I don't know what went wrong, she probably brought her negative attitude into the interview and screwed it all up. The point of my writings this evening is to tell you, dear reader, about my five stages of anger that I express during the average work day. I have a kickass iPod boombox on my desk at work and over 4000 songs to choose from, and I could just use multisyllabic words (like RVD would) to describe my hate and disgust. Instead, I'm going to let you imagine my demeanor based on my musical selections at each of these five stages.


DEFCON 5 - 311/Incubus
Here, I'm still at the point where I think that music with positive vibes can cure me. One of my coworkers has generally asked me a repeated question that I explained to he or she (probably a she) at least twelve times before. Perhaps my GChat isn't working so I can't communicate with Ron Von Don and Dana Complaina. Most mornings bring some bad news though...Hillary Clinton still allowed in public without a muzzle, the Red Sox signing an obese Bartolo Colon, the Celtics signing an alien looking Sam Cassell, or me getting poked inappropriately by one of K-Rock's idiot PSU friends on facebook. Oh well, maybe things are looking up.

DEFCON 4 - TOOL/Smashing Pumpkins
I've passed the point where music can positively effect me. I'm at the stage where I need to tap my feet to the beat of a song or else my foot is going into the back of someone's head when they are stupidly staring at their computer without being able to comprehend the work in front of them. The general creepiness of Maynard J Keenan and Billy Corgan amuse me to the point where I (unfortunately) probably still seem approachable to people at the office. I guess subconsciously I'm listening to 7th grade rock because I had no responsibility then, and wish it was the same now. Someone please stab me with a letter opener.

DEFCON 3 - Iron Maiden
More than likely, sweat is beading up on my forehead because I've realized that I have at least six more hours of this douchebaggery to deal with. It's two hours into the work day and the best conversation my cube mates can come up with is to discuss the congestion on Rtes 128 and 90 that morning. People should only be allowed to complain about things that they can't control...like "Wow, that Condi Rice still won't give me the time of day, even with the naked pictures I sent her,"... perfectly acceptable. But choosing to live 40 miles away from your office and complaining that it took you two hours to get to work will henceforth be met with a very, very dirty look from two angry eyes in my bald head. I find that "Number of the Beast" gets me through the 10am hour fairly well due to the fact that I can pretend I'm playing Guitar Hero.

DEFCON 2 - Kelly Clarkson
All I want is to be left alone. I can see lunch coming, but I know my phone is going to ring and that stupid Outlook email preview window is going to pop up at least twice before I can feed. Miss Independent is my only hope at this point. The topic of conversation has moved from traffic to the weather now. Everyone has also mentioned at least twice that they have headaches and are really tired. Hearing KC's voice and picturing her hazel eyes is my only hope to make it to lunch without committing a homicide.

DEFCON 1 - Daughtry
I get back from lunch and find out that no one has quit, my phone has voicemails and my computer still works. Power buttrock ballads are my only hope for 3 more hours of work. This music really gives me a chance to meditate on the real struggles of other middle class catholic straight caucasians. Maybe I don't have it so bad. After all, I could be a high school Latin teacher.

Cheers,
William Perry

R Von D Vs. The Norovirus

On Wednesday of this week I, out of the goodness of my heart, decided to take one of my students to go see his brother (a former student of mine) play in a minor league hockey game. During the car ride my current student, we'll call him Kyle, and I were shooting the shit. He was telling me how excited he was to see his brother play and how he had just gotten over a terrible stomach virus that had him throwing up for the past two days. I then, in an almost insanely foreboding tone, told him that if he had an immune system like mine, he would not have to worry about such things. You see the ironic twist that is coming? Let me tell you about the game first:

To be honest, the game itself was not the most interesting part of the evening. But let me tell you this. If I were in charge of the Bridgeport Sound Tigers, I would have shot all of my full-time employees at the end of this contest. Here are some highlights.

-During the first intermission, some tarted up little wannabe on-air whore came out of the tunnel with a bunch of little kids. To the crowd, she announces that these kids are going to be playing musical chairs the grand prize of which will be a t-shirt. Mind you these children are going to be running around and pushing each other on a near frictionless surface with no safety equipment. I'd fee bad, but all of these kids were from either Long Island or Bridgeport, CT, so if any of them cracked their heads open I really wouldn't have cared, but what if there were a well-adjusted kid out there by accident? Cover your bases.

-In an even more inexplicable lack of safety precautions, the second period saw both an old lady AND a developmentally disabled lad who were sitting next to each other in the handicap section BOTH get struck with pucks flying into the stands. Both of these literally happened within five minutes of each other. First the old lady took one off the dome, then the poor kid sitting next to her got vulcanized rubber right off the jaw. The elderly and the mentally handicapped do not ask for much. All they need are shiny things, some Play-dough, maybe the occasional puppet show, and to be sat behind the tall glass at a hockey game. Not too much to ask.

So the game ends and Kyle and I leave the wretched crowd amidst the throng of ugly people, fat people, and ugly fat people from Long Island and make our way home. Before we got back to school though, we made a stop at a local fast food establishment for some comfort food. Kyle told me he hadn't eaten in a couple days so he was psyched to eat something. We exited with our value meals and took the show on the road. Along the way, as we were talking, I made a grab for a soda, took a sip, and a feeling of dread hit me. I had taken a sip out of Kyle's soda. I was more worried that he would notice than whether or not I was going to get sick because come on, I'm the D...and the D never gets sick.

Around 3:30 AM on Thursday though, I woke up with what I thought was a back spasm. The ache in my back was almost unbearable, so I rolled out of bed to stand up and stretch. As I arched my back while standing, it hit me. The wave of nausea was so great that I had no choice but to sprint to my bathroom. I made the fifteen foot journey in about three steps. You might not know it to look at me, but when I need to I have the agility of a fucking puma, for God himself blessed me with the sweet-feet. So there I am puking in my bathroom for a solid forty five minutes. I had not thrown up due to an illness in a ridiculous stretch of time, over ten years at least. Needless to say I did not handle it well at all. You ever watch that show "Celebrity Rehab" when Jeff Conway was puking into his trashcan? If not, I probably sounded and looked a lot like this (the fist part not the second part):


So when I got done doing that, I eventually found some way to fall back asleep for like an hour at a time before having to get up again. This went on for the entirety of the next day. I did manage, however, to get out of the house to pick up a few things at the local apothecary. Here are the list of items I picked up:

-NyQuil
-Orange Juice
-Pepto Bismol
-Baby Wipes
-New York Magazine (Lindsay Lohan cover)
-Sour Apple Altoids
-Tylenol PM

From the looks of my basket, and the way I must have looked for that matter, you would have thought my name was Ricky and I drove a windowless van around the suburbs but I was way too sick to care what anybody thought.

So the rest of that day was spent whacked out on drugs and drinking as much fluids as I could. While I was awake though I did manage to take some hot showers. Interestingly enough, I managed to throw up on myself while in the shower once. I thought I was just gonna make a little burp having just drank some warm ginger ale, but it was not to be. There are very few things worse than cleaning puke off of yourself, and one of those I'll mention later.

So after the first day I was feeling a little better. My stomach was feeling a bit better and I was not as nauseous, but I still didn't feel right. As it turns out, my dear reader, the norovirus, or GI Bug as it is more commonly known, is a fickle bride, and once she is tired of spewing from one orifice, she then favors the other. So, day two of my illness was nothing but photo-finishes and fear. Why fear? You try and spend an entire day of your life scared of your own farts. The mystical things that used to bring me so much joy in life suddenly turned on me. What if you had a dog from when you were very small until now? What if you raised that dog, had wonderful times with it, and raised it to be your best friend? Then one day, as you were both older, that sweet puppy tried to rip your throat out? That was the second day of my illness. I was scared for my life. The one thing I could always count on to make me smile, my own flatulence, had turned on me. And that, my dear reader, is no way to live. Luckily for me, and unluckily for people like Michael Vick and Bad Newz Kennelz, they make medicine for my predicament, and it is called Immodium.

Why am I telling you all of this? What greater good does this serve? Many will say none. Some will say it made them smile. Few will say it reminds them to keep a bottle of purell in their house and to stay away from germ-infested scumbags like teen-aged boys. They are the source of all that is wrong in this world and it is times like this that I revel in the fact that I only have two months left at my post at Fort Scum. Oh, and here is a little something that Gregoire sent to me after I told him of my plight:


See you in hell, my friend
-R Von Diz

The Revue's Hatred for K-Rock

As you may know, myself and Ron Von Don (right and left in photo above) are really the bread and butter of the Pen15 blog. My younger brother, K-Rock, on occasion has contributed. We have felt compelled to allow his writings to let our readership see a younger, less-mature point of view, and also so he won't smother me with a pillow in my sleep. RvD and I have decided today to let our true feelings towards this fat idiot fly.

We leave you for the weekend with a laundry list of reasons we dislike the aforementioned K-Rock.

1. Watches the Music Choice channel (just audio, no videos) for hours on end. Has slowly started to memorize the "fun facts" about people like T-Pain, Young Chris, Young Joc, and Young Jeezy that their own families are not aware of.
2. Cannot keep his eyes open once he passes the 20 beer threshold, but is still conscious and willing to outdrink you.
3. Hates R von D for no reason other than he is smarter and more well-refined.
4. Sits down whilst playing Guitar Hero.
5. Has a tendency for vomiting off of the back deck at our parents' house in the middle of dinner.
6. Can manage to dip while passed out.
7. Is not attracted to women.
8. Did not appreciate sexual advances from Dana Complaina (see No. 7)
9. Is a walking contradiction insofar as he will be a law enforcement agent in the next 12 months.
10. Is attracted to Scorpion Drink.
11. Thought Jar Jar Binks was a "dynamite addition" to the Star Wars franchise.
12. Voted for Ron Paul.
13. Is a Communist (see No. 12)
14. Refuses to run during softball games.
15. Does not adequately track fly balls (see No 14.)
16. Refers to Vincent Chase as "my favorite character on that show."
17. Will be armed with a government issued weapon within the next 12 months (see No. 9)
18. Uses all the hot water at our parents' house without concern for others' desire to not freeze in the shower.
19. Sucks at karaoke really really bad.
20. Once bought us Budweiser Energy drinks.

Thank you for your time,
Los Hermanos Miserables

Dana Complaina's Office Space

She has been mentioned countless times before. Her story is one of griping, bitching, frustration, and the occasional drinking binge. The Pen15 Club is honored to introduce Dana Complaina to the Pen15 Club. And without further adieu...


I never thought at 24 I would be wasting away in a cubicle, staring at a computer screen, worried about whether of not to put a cover page on a client's status report or that my Swingline Stapler was out of SF 400 Premium Staples (not to be confused with the SF 500 which can cause quite the problem - Stapler jams can really bring your day down). But here I am. As a close personal friend of our usual authors, a huge admirer of MKenn, and an avid reader of the Pen15 Blog, I decided it was time to pen my own words of wisdom on the workplace or as my so called friends say complain about all the shit I deal with on a daily basis. So here they are, my Top Five Office Gripes:

Gripe Numer One Co-worker: "Did you get my email?"
Obviously I got your email. We all have our Outlook's open 8 full hours a day. You're office is directly next to mine. You can see me staring at my emails. I even get a little reminder in the lower righthand corner of my computer screen while I'm watching YouTube videos or reading the latest Britney gossip. I got your email and I'm ignoring you. Deal with it.

Gripe Number Two
"Why are you CC'ing me on emails that have nothing to do with me?"
Fans of the brillant comedy "The Office" may find this familiar. Scene: Jim Halpert immitating Fatty Stanley. While I'm a huge Jim fan, I gotta side with Stanley on this one. I don't care that you have to reschedule an interview with a client because your son/daughter/husband/wife/dog/cat/lizard is sick and you need to tend to them. I already receive hundreds of emails a day asking if I'd l ike to enlarge my non-exisstent penis I don't need to hear about what troubles you've got going on. Keep your personal life out of my Outlook.
Gripe Number Three
Sharing an Office
Now I admit this is selfish, but what the f. There's 18 actual bodies in my office. There are 25 actual offices. I didn't take math in college, but i'm pretty sure there's enough space to go around. But myself and my title counterpart (Account Coordinator Number 2) are forced to cram ourselves into one interior office, the only one without a window, divided by the oh-so lovely cubicle divider. Is this absolutely necessary? You already pay me shit for money. I'm essentially your bitch. Would it be so terrible to give me a little space to spread my wings? How about a window so I could see the sun every once in a while? Maybe my own door to close? Just sayin....

Gripe Number Four "Can you cover the phone while I take a 2 hour lunch?" -Receptionist
Um, no. I went to college for four years so that I wouldn't have to spend my days answering phones dear. If I wanted to be a professional receptionist I sure as hell wouldn't have spent $160,000 on an education. I would have gone straight from high school to Gold's Gym and answered phones there. At least I could have gotten a free gym membership out of it and spent my days scouting the talent that walked in the door. God.

Gripe Number Five
"[Insert co-worker name here] will be working from home today."
I don't know about you but I get at least one of these a week for various "reasons" most commonly "We're having baby-sitter problems," or "There's a school delay." Here's the thing, we all know you're lying. You're not working. No one actually gets shit done when they "work from home." We all know you're sitting on your ass watching Tyra and Maury while we pick up the slack for you. And sure, it may seem like a good idea to "check in" on your email, send a few out every few hours, but come on. Don't try to play me. Just say you're dicking around all day. I won't tell and you'll still make 3 times as much as I'll make today while I do my work and yours. K thanks.

Words to end with, "Right now this is just a job. If I advance any higher in this company, then this would be my career. And well, if this were my career I'd have to throw myself in front of a train."


xoxo,
Dana Complaina (Cube Monkey)

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The Abridged Encyclopedia of Hate

-Guys who wear rings-
For my money, there is nothing creepier than a dude with excessive amounts of jewelry on their hands or anywhere else for that matter. What's the point? Moreover, do these men have boxes for this jewelry that perhaps features a spinning ballerina? My point is this: Never trust a man who wears rings. Chances are if you are a man with hand jewelry, you are either the effeminate weirdo who lurks at either the end of the bar or in the shadows in a Sam's Club parking lot...weirdo

-Guidos-
Not to beat a dead horse, but a lot of these 'roided out shitbags typically wear rings...just sayin'. Also, what is the fascination with showing your abs in public and making that half-pucker face that you grease-balls always make in the pictures you take of yourself in a bathroom with your really sweet sidekick. Being a descendant of Irishman, I think it is simply in my blood to despise Italy. Being a Latin teacher, this does prove to be quite a challenge at times, but you can bet your baklava that these gelled-up, bronzed idiots will always and forever be a staple on lists like this.

-Skinny Black Guys and Fat White Women-
Now say what you want about the Pen15 Club, but one thing we never are is racist, and I'm not about to start now. What I'm talking about here is a sociological thing here. What is the appeal between these two, seemingly poler opposite groups of people. I find it a little fascinating and a lot gross. Having studied a great deal of Eastern philosophy, I am aware of the duality of nature and the yin and yang of the universe. I am also aware that for every right there is a wrong, and for every day there is a night, but let us not forget that more often than not, these things don't typically go together (with the obvious exception being Hoodsy Cups, which I feel we all agree are the greatest things on Earth). Even so, I hope the glaring dichotomy I see on a daily basis on the Maury Povich Show is worth my scorn. I just have a hard time believing that ALL little skinny black guys are THAT into ass. It's just not possible.

-Good-looking women with fat, ugly friends -
Nothing upsets a man more than a CBFSK (Cock-Blockin'-Fatt-Side-Kick). This is the "we came together, we're leaving together" girl who makes it nearly impossible to approach attractive women. Here is what I generally feel about people. Not everybody is born to be attractive, that's just the way it is. I rate myself about a 6.5-7.0 on most days. But I bring other things to the table that seemingly make me worth a drink. Now, if you're going to be ugly, at least be easy to deal with. It's not my fault that you look like a foot, and I know how angry you must be at your parents for having shit genes. However, if you choose to hang out with pretty, interesting people at least be pleasant, you pig.

-The Writers' Strike-
Bring my programs back, you bunch of fucking babies. I don't ask for a lot in life. I need my anti-psychotic meds to keep from killing all of you, I need video games to keep me occupied, and every once and a while I require some sort of cheap whiskey and a bottle of store-brand ginger ale. All I ask in return is to be able to watch The Office on Thursday nights at 9pm. Not too much to ask is it? You're writers, and not to toot my own horn, but you're not that goddamn important. Just a point of fact, Kathy Griffin is your biggest supporter. That's how important you are. Kathy FUCKING Griffin. Nobody else came to your rescue ya bunch of c*nts. Pull up your skirts, act like you got a pair and shut the fuck up.

-People Who Make Fun of My Shoes-
While most of you look on my shoes to be nothing more than flashy colors and whatnot, I will remind you that both Bathing Apes and Ice Cream shoes are at the forefront of street fashion. Look it up you uneducated bastards. And yes, that goes for you Fridge and K-Rock. The minute over sized football jerseys, mesh shorts, and sweatpants are all the rage in Tokyo and New York you can let me know, dicks.

-Teenaged Boys-
For my money, there is not a more misinformed and unpleasant demographic on this Earth than the male aged 14-18. Nothing but sarcasm, and an utter lack of hygiene comes from these people. I know because I work with them. Granted, all you have to do is tell them to do push ups if they anger you, but I of course never do the bare minimum. If you have a younger brother or know somebody with teen aged sons, take a moment to criticize everything this boy does. Make him feel like the piece of crap that he is and try to take him down a peg. After all, these are the future leaders of the free world, and they need to be put in their place while we can. Not only that, but I feel that laps should be instituted into the American Justice System. Make inmates take laps for whatever crime they committed. Five hours of lap time is far worse than three seconds in an electric chair as far as I'm concerned.

-HJs-
Ladies, it's time to give it up. For one, we are not in Jr. High School anymore and the appeal has seriously worn off. That's not fun for us. Secondly, I have and will always do it better than you and you need to get more creative as we get on in years. Grow up. As our one lady-friend the C always says, "A hand job is a man's job, a blow job is yo' job." And that's coming from a girl...so put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Now I want to end this on a positive note, so here are a couple things that I like:

Cranky, Old People
Nothing makes me happier than to sit at a table and listen to an old person gripe about something . I find the elderly to have a great sense of anything and everything that pisses them off. I also enjoy the fact that they, like my grandmother, feel that they no longer have to be nice to anybody. I've mentioned this before, and I will echo again that I simply cannot wait to be the old guy who nobody likes in the neighborhood who shoots bee bees at kids who are trying to get their frisbees out of his back yard. That's going to be awesome.

Saving Silverman
While I consider myself to be a bit of a film buff, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that this is the greatest Sunday afternoon movie ever created. I would bet money that this movie was made with the intention of being aired on Comedy Central between the hours of 1:00 and 6:00 pm on the Lord's day of rest. This movie is awesome, and if you don't think so, I am going to enter your name in both McCarthy's list of suspected communists and the Mitchell Report.


Wii
I have been playing video games for a very long time. Over twenty years if you can believe that. And while I was stand-offish at first about the design of Nintendo's latest console, I can tell you that I have never had more fun than when I won my first game of Wii golf. It was amazing. I actually holed in a second shot on a par 4 on my second time playing. This machine has opened doors for me and has taken another great step towards things like fully simulated games and more importantly, fully simulated porn. You all laugh at me now, but the second that shit comes out, you're going to thank machines like Wii and companies like Nintendo for thinking outside the box. Get your fat ass kids off the couch when they play games. Everybody wins. You get your kid off the couch, and he doesn't have to shower or go outside.



Hatefully Yours,
R Von D