10 posts tagged “redzilla”
At long last...the shortest day of the year is here. So finally, tomorrow the sun will set at 4:57 instead of 4:56. Seriously, this is a good thing.
And to celebrate a good thing, I'm offering Redzilla with a side of bacon.
Found here.
Borrowed from mad-tante. The first sentence of the first post of each month.
January: Sorry folks. All that talk about Bacon Chocolate Armageddon was a bit premature.
February: Next time you put gas in your car, as you watch your savings and your kids' college money flash before your eyes on the gas pump display, whisper that to yourself like a crazy homeless guy: "Exxon reports record profits."
March: I went to Target for a few items and while I was looking at light bulbs, a pair of skwerly teenage boys approached me, one pushing an empty shopping cart, the other carrying some sort of ceramic Spider-Man head.
April: I hate April Fool's Day, because it's too obvious.
May: Dear Receptionist:
June: My whole life is under construction these days.
July: Are you fucking KIDDING me?
August: On my walk to work this week I've seen this same item that the trash guys declined to pick up:
September: Did I miss the memo? I realize it's been ten years since I worked for Planned Parenthood as a sex educator, so it's possible I haven't kept up with all the latest stuff on that front, but when did it become okay for teenagers to get pregnant?
October: Jesus wants a piece of cake, baby.
November: Day of the Dead mural in Wichita. Painted to solve an ongoing grafitti problem.
December: That's it: I'm declaring a moratorium on typewriters and all forms that need to be filled out with typewriters.
Oh, except that Hubbicula insisted on being in disguise. Still, it's a close likeness.
As always, Kirk does awesome work. Just know, anytime you see a shoddy-looking banner--it's my doing. When you see something totally cool like the new Hindenburg banner, that's all Kirk. Thanks!!
Yup, it's a pretty slow day around here in old Brain Tumor Hall. Not much shakin'. Thankfully, Spucko just sent me my lazy blog post for the day. So, my thanks to her, and to Savage Chickens. (And my apologies to Doug Savage for slightly defacing his cartoon.)
This is why you should always wear safety goggles while destroying ChickenTokyo.
Please note how realistic the real Redzilla avatar is...right down to the right eye being bigger than the left and the black clothes being faded to not quite the same shade of black. Also note the small-but-mighty-frowning-big-haired-fury of the inner Redzilla
I have been working since 8:00 am today. If this keeps up, I will have put in an 8-hour day! That is outrageous--I did not take this job to spend my days working. Damn it!! I need some down time. I spent all morning pushing paperwork to get summer GTA's and lecturers paid. As if that weren't bad enough, I then went down to their offices and discovered that most of them have made no effort to get ready for the impending doom move.
Here in a mere two weeks, the GTA's will all be moving out of their scary, dark, dank basement offices into dark, abysmal offices on the second floor with the rest of the department. For weeks I've been nagging them about getting everything packed. Everything. Today, I go into offices and find desk drawers full of crap, filing cabinets full of files, piles of books all over the place. Now I'll have to go through every office and make sure things are ready to go. Shiftless little fuckers. Maybe their payroll paperwork won't get turned in on time. The good news: I've now found a system to decide who ends up in the tiny, cell-like office right next to the elevators. Ha-ah. Should have cleaned out your desks.
Plus I'm still wasting way too much time on the phone trying to order a piece of audio-visual equipment. Still, no one will return my calls. My last message went like this: "This is Redzilla, from the University. This is my 5th phone call this week. I really need to receive a written quote as soon as possible. If I don't get it by noon on Friday, I'm going to assume you don't want my $2,000 and call someone else." Jerk. I swear, if he were here, I would stab him in the jugular with a ballpoint pen.
I am in a dangerous mood.
Dear Customer Service/Sales People,
Contrary to what you may have heard, I don't really enjoy going on rampages. I'd rather not destroy your peace of mind and the shreds of your self-esteem that you're hanging on to, but I will.
It's simple: as of today, there are 21 business days left in the university's fiscal year. I have about $6,000 to spend. I want to spend it on products you sell, but I can't do that unless you fucking call me back about the software I want to order. Or e-mail me the quote for that very expensive portable LCD projector you promised you would send on Monday. Or fax me the order confirmation for those 14 office chairs I ordered last week.
I don't demand that you like your job. I don't ask that you do it with a smile. You don't even have to ask me how my day is, or wish me a good one. You just have to pretend that you have any interest in earning my money. Pretend that you care whether the company you work for stays afloat. For those of you who are actually lucky enough to have mandatory contracts with state agencies, would it be asking too much that you do the bare minimum of work that your contract says you will?
Again, I don't require anything special, just please, get your worthless asses in gear, before I have to start making destructive and hateful phone calls.
Go fuck yourself, but first, send me the quote I asked for. Okay?
~Redzilla
What is it, my people, that no one seems to want to make money anymore? Plumbers who don't want to fix toilets, salesman who don't want to sell you anything? Have we all gotten that lazy and self-satisfied? This is not the Midwestern work ethic I was promised.
Check it! Cool, huh? Huh, huh? So, you're wondering, who did it? Who's the man?
Kirk Starr! Kirk Starr is the man!
