The rain falls softly on the metal roof. OJ is currently in jail for a B and E. I inhaled eight tacos and a bowl of green chili with Team Hofkamp during the Broncos game yesterday. Two homeless guys just walked by our office window with four shopping carts full of cans that were covered with assorted tarps and bungee cords yet neither were wearing a rain slicker or a poncho. I get free Brothers BBQ for lunch today. We just learned that one of our freelance designers is a con-artist and wanted for fraud. Pumpkin pie sounds delicious.
Pants-Free No More
The working from home experiment officially ends on April 24 as I have accepted an Art Director position for a consulting firm in downtown Denver for a ridiculous amount of money. I learned many things during the home office endeavor:
- When not physically interacting with society on a regular basis I will not change my shorts until I squat down to pick something up and smell the essence of my own ass.
- When not physically interacting with society on a regular basis I will not shower until I squat down to pick something up and smell the essence of my own ass.
- When Divorce Court is on I will not turn it off. Preach on, Judge Toler. Preach on.
- There are times in life when porn is your enemy.
- I do not hate society as much as once initially thought.
- Conference calls are just as worthless as face to face meetings.
- Clients cannot tell when you are calling them from the bathroom.
- Clients cannot tell when you are surfing your RSS feeds instead of taking notes.
- Clients will not take you seriously if your “team” consists of anyone from India or the Philippines.
- Total hours (per week) put in at an office job during a normal work week: 42. Total hours (per week) put in at a home office job during a normal work week: 55.
- Working from home is a lot like bedding a really hot girl and then finding out that she is a lousy lay; at first you cannot believe its happening to you and then you realize its just a means to an end.
Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness
The wife after seeing me in a hockey jersey, baggy shorts and catching the stink of cologne on me:
“Look at you, getting all dressed up for work.”
The hockey jersey, baggy shorts and cologne are a modified version of the Italian Shower, which, in its truest essence, a monochromatic tracksuit, a drenching in Armani cologne and at least four pieces of gold jewelry (which must consist of a watch, a ring, a bracelet and a crucifix necklace). A more accurate description of my slovenliness is a cross between an Italian Shower and a Navy Bath; which is hand soap and sink water splashed about the armpits and genitals than liberally dried and a caked-on or over-sprayed deodorant application. Either way, it is time for me to take a shower.