Sooner or later, everyone goes to the zoo.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Still good for a laugh

I lost one of my closest friends this week. We spent almost every day together over the last three years and it is hard to imagine life without him. He knows everything about me, we had a really strong connection, and on more than one occasion he gave me all the energy he had until he just couldn't give any more. I will miss him.

I'm talking, of course, about my work laptop. I handed it in on Tuesday evening before leaving behind my old job, my old office, and a lifetime supply of peanut M&Ms.

So now while I wait for my new laptop I am working from the laptop that I bought in 2003. It is definitely past its prime but we are getting along nicely so far today so I'm not going to complain.

In fact, its dusty old hard drive offers a whole new world of procrastination from actual work: looking through old files to see what sorts of fun and interesting things have lain dormant here lo these past three years.

This morning I unearthed a gem. Many of you know that I performed a standup comedy routine back in business school and despite frequent requests for a revival, I've been smart enough to know when the idea of something is better than the reality. That said, I've come across my notes and can't help but post an excerpt from them here because I still think they are funny. You may not agree. I'm prepared for that.

Enjoy.

[setting: comedy club filled with MBA students drinking heavily]
So second years, we’re all looking forward to moving again, right? A new apartment, new furniture. I got a lot of my current furniture at Ikea: bad idea.
I bought a desk and I got a construction project. It even came with its own mini tool set complete with an allen wrench.
And I ordered a rug online and they delivered a sheep and a loom (and an allen wrench).
And have you ever noticed that the printed directions don’t have any words? Just pictures of the little desk assembling itself – all the pieces flying together into just the right place, each peg in the right hole. For me, it’s like doing Kamasutra. You look at the picture and say, “I see how this piece goes here, but how did that get there???
But I like what you’re doing with that allen wrench!”
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2 comments:

Sarah said...

You a-hole. You scared me with the beginning of this post!

Ellie said...

Sorry! Was just being dramatic.