Never on time, but always ill timedIf this is Octobor it must be...
Page 4 of 4 of update 1 of 2
Anyway, my presentation of the danm Marketing section of the website is suposed to ONLY be for Marketing: Just Stu, and two othor people in his deppartment. But guess who came also? The big invester guy -- ugly old Princess Margeret and his creepy consultent nephew who no one is suposed to know they are related.
"I decided to take a more hands-on aproach to my investment!", said the uncle as all these peoplle crushed into my crowded cubicol,
"So lets see what youve done with my website!"Anyway i pull the danm thing up and both of these iddiots start givin me a hard time about evereything: They dont like the copy, they dont like the .GIFs, the new logo, the whole deal.
Also everyone started to get real nervuos because of the big meeting we just had, and the bigger meeting that was coming up. Everyone exept Stu that is. He just stood there calmley eating his lunch, a big drippy burger and fries. He sort of eats like a pig so all you coud hear was all these disgousting grunting and swallowwing noises.
It was very distracting for me becuase in between the slurps and smacks of a very hungrey Stu now my phone began to ring. I coud see on the LCD display that the HMO was calling, and after this, there were two more calls from Dad. Do you know how peoplle call again and agian when you dont pick up imediatly? That's what people were doin to me. RIGHT DURIN THE DEMO.
I coud not write people's changes to the website down fast enuogh. They all wanted to see these new changes by this aftornoon's meeting.
"We dont want to see any lazy ecxuses by you, like in this morning's meeting," said the woman who has a face like a catcher's mitt to me, (and I did not even KNOW her!), othorwise she woud see to it that I woud get fired. Howevor this hapenned to me before (where people who I did not know wanted me to make changes to the website), and there is a special rule where I am not suposed to make changes without an editer and also the legal department lookin at the stuff. Othorwise I coud get fired for that too. Then the stupidass uncle begins to offor his comments. He starts off by rambolling on and on about how great he is, especially what a danm "Internet Expert" he is.
"I didnt get to be where I am today by being a horses's ass," he gruffed at us all condessendingly.
"I like to think of myself as one of the fourmost EXPERTS in this industrey!"
Agian, Stu was ignorring him as he kept eatin his lunch. By now he was on the french fries, and did you ever see that famous photo in one of the old copies of the Giuness Book Of Records from abuot 20 years ago, (because I dont think they include this picture in the newer edditions), of the guy in England settin the World Record for smoking 150 cigarrettes all at the same time and they are all stuffed into his mouth which is streched to about 8 inches in diametor with all the cigaretes stickin out in all dirrections? Well this is what Stu looked like with the danm freis in his mouth cause he was tryin to get them all in at once. And sudenly, the danm uncle points to the screen and says, "Why are those words pink?"
And I said, "Why are WHAT words pink?"
And he said, "Those effin' pink words on my effin' website! A minute ago they were BLUE!"
I began to explain to him that hypertext links which are normaly blue will change to purpel or pink to indicate a link that you have visited...and as I began to explian it, the nepheuw looked at me and slowly and quietley shook is head 'no' as if to say, "DONT CONTRODICT HIM!!"
Well in any case Uncle Princess Margaret started railing abbout how it looked "faggotty" and how, "He aint never saw nothin like that in his life," and dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! He'd be danmed if there was going to be "pink writing" residing anywhere on his website.
I looked at the nephew and he nodded slowly 'yes' to me. As if he thoght that somhow I knew what the hell to do about this.
For some reasen the e-mail was takin a long time to download. It was from someon named "Amanda Wreckinwith", a womon's name I vagely recognized; possibley as a lacky freind or relattive of the royal family who they hired to send out emails as a new $500 a day consultant.
"This e-mail thing is great!" said the investor during the akward silence of the download, "And after this company of ours finds a purpose, and a product, I want to announce that product -- I want to find a way to send an email to everyone in the world!"
I looked arround and everyone had this look of horrer on there face. Nobody had the rocks to dare controdict him.
The e-mail note that I was downloading finaly popped up, and sudenly all those arround my workstation were imediatly treated to a giant recorded .wav file of a huge HOROBBLE wet disgousting one of Granfather's massive farts.
The first one to talk was Stu.
"Oh, excuse me!" he said, "I am so sorry!"
I thoght it was nice of him to take the blame for Granfather's fart, but unnessessery.
In any case I clicked on the text part of the messege and this is what it said:
MY NAME IS MISS AMANDA WRECKINWITH.
I WILL BET YOU ARE WONDERING WHO I AM
AND WHY I AM SENDING YOU THIS. WELL
DUMBASS, YOU ARE ABOUT TO FIND OUT.
I TOLD YOU I WOULD GET YOU BACK
FOR YOUR GROSS DISRESPECT TOWARD
ME, AND SOONER THAN YOU THINK, AND SO
I HAVE. DID YOU AND YOUR CO-WORKERS ENJOY
PLEASE ENJOY MY SPECTACULAR CREATION.
IT IS 100% MINE, HOWEVER THE ECHO IS
COMPLIMENTS OF SOUND-FORGE(R). NOTICE THE
DE-CRESCENDO AT THE FIFTEEN-SECOND MARK
FOLLOWED BY THE TEMPESTUOUS CLIMACTIC
FLOURISH AT THE END. MY INSPIRATION FOR
THIS PARTICULAR ARRANGEMENT IS THE
HAUNTING YET BLUSTERY MUSICAL CADENCES OF
THE LATE 19TH CENTURY COMPOSERS FROM THE
STEPPES OF EASTERN EUROPE.
OH! I AM SORRY! MY OTHER INSPIRATION
IS A VERY IMMATURE YOUNG MAN WHOSE
INCONSIDERATE ATTITUDE TOWARD HIS
ELDERS IS UNCONSCIONABLE AND FOR WHOM
MY PERSONAL FEELINGS OF DISGUST AND
CONTEMPT EVEN THE GREATEST PERCUSSIVE
ELEMENTS OF THE HUMAN INTESTINE COMBINED
WITH THE DIGITAL MANIPULATION OF THE
FINEST SOUND SOFTWARE CANNOT EVEN BEGIN
IN OTHER WORDS, THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, BOY.
PLEASE ENJOY ALONG WITH THE LOUD (THOUGH
UNFORTUNATELY ODORLESS) GAS, MY ENDLESS,
BORING, PONDEROUS WRITING STYLE. IT RUNS
IN THE FAMILY.
P.S. IN CASE YOU ARE WONDERING, I AM
TYPING IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS BECAUSE
AS A MATTER OF FACT I AM SHOUTING.
P.P.S. I APOLOGIZE FOR HAVING A LAST
NAME CONCLUDING IN '-WITH' WHICH
MAKES IT APPEAR AS IF I AM ENDING
A SENTENCE IN A PREPOSITION; AND SO,
IN THAT CASE, LET ME END INSTEAD, AS
FOR THE LAST TIME,
"AMANDA WRECKINWITH YOU DUMBASS. "
attachment: for_walter.wav (785 KB)
That basterd. That evil sunnoffobbich basterd. Yes, GRANFATHER. He realy knows how to press my buttens. It is bad enuogh that he mocks my writting. But the thing that burns me the most abbout him, (and I think he does it only to bust chops), is how he spells everything CORECTLY ALL THE TIME. Also he has a way abbout him with crafting words that I am jealous of. Dammit, I just ended last last sentence in a prepposition.
Granfather said he woud "get me back earlier than I thoght." Well, mabye I will get HIM back earleir rather than later. Mabye my gettin him back will involve my sharing of a certian incident that hapenned in a City by the Bay.