Nutty Workaholism, Part Deux

Apologies for the unannounced hiatus on Life Liberty, folks. It’s just been one of THOSE weeks.

You know - where my daily schedule for the past 4 days has been a lot like this:

And my Outlook inbox has been filling up at a frankly ridiculous rate and is looking a little something like this:

And I’ve been bringing work home and banging out e-mails at ungodly hours like these:

I blame it on the year-end rush. Everyone wants a holiday. And they obviously don’t want work haunting them along the way. Hence they’ve been tai-chi’ing work my way instead.

Tai-chi (simplified Chinese: 太极拳; traditional Chinese: 太極拳; pinyin: tàijíquán; Wade-Giles: t'ai4 chi2 ch'üan2) : an internal Chinese martial art often practiced for health reasons. Tai chi is typically practiced for a variety of other personal reasons: its hard and soft martial art technique, demonstration competitions, health and longevity. In the workplace, it is a term used to describe the habit of passing unwanted work to someone else, so one doesn’t have to do it themselves.

I’ve also been waking up at ungodly hours in the morning.

6.45am on Monday
7.00am on Tuesday
7.30am on Wednesday

I actually saw the sun rise on Monday. Something I hadn't seen in AGES. Why? Cos some people insist on having meetings bright and early in the morning.

Some folks obviously didn't get the memo, cos I don't normally do bright and early.

So this is how the proletariat live.

Can’t say I fancy it very much, honestly. *snigger*

On days like these it has become even more imperative to constantly utter the NuttyMantra...

I love my job
I love my job
I love my job

whilst thinking up various naughty scenarios involving this fella in my Nutty head:

This hunky number can twiddle with my...urm...warp nacelle....all day, anyday! *snigger*

One can only hope next week will be significantly more restful. I for one, am keeping my fingers, toes and scrotal sacks crossed.

Oh how I am looking forward to my month-long year-end break.

Hetero Madness

I love left-field, small budget movies. They're usually refreshingly free of the usual Hollywood stereotypes and associated hoopla.

Stumbled onto this while surfing Fridae recently - you'd be surprised to learn that the site is actually a pretty good resource for movie and product reviews. *snigger*

First a synopsis:

Living in Seattle, Ben and Anna are a loving young supportive couple falling into what most would see as a "white picket fence" lifestyle, as Ben calls it. As part of this lifestyle, they are now trying to have a child. Late one night, Andrew, Ben's friend from his college days, drops by their house unexpectedly, Ben and Anna put him up despite the inconvenience.

Despite the obvious compromises the couple have to make to accomodate this unexpected guest, the two old college friends immediately fall into their old dynamic of heterosexual one-upmanship.

To save Ben from the "threat of domesticated mediocrity", Andrew invites Ben to a party at a sex-positive commune. Everyone there plans on making erotic art films for the local amateur porn festival and Andrew wants in.

They run out of booze and ideas, save for one: Andrew should have sex with Ben, on camera. It's not gay; it's beyond gay. It's not porn; it's an art project. The next day, they find themselves unable to back down from the dare. And there's nothing standing in their way - except Ben's wife Anna, heterosexuality, and certain mechanical questions...

I reckon this movie's gonna be on the "must watch" list for December when this Nut starts his annual vacation.

It plays perfectly to the pink fantasy of seeing two hot straight guys "get it on". OK, granted, the leads in Humpday aren't exactly flagpole material, but still....imagine doing some mental photoshopping and putting these two in their place:

Like seriously. How hot would THAT be? *guffaw*

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go take a cold shower before my loins explode with excitement.

Nutty Workaholism

You know - there used to be a time when this Nut would choose jobs based almost entirely on what time I get to leave the office. 9-5 was about all I wanted to handle. Any job that required me to stay past 5 was quickly tossed out the window.

Which pretty much meant I didn’t particularly fancy working in law firms.

When you’re the junior associate, work usually entails long hours in the office doing things the seniors couldn’t be bothered with. Like photocopying and binding multiple copies of 300-page Statement of Claims. Or proof-reading 147 pages worth of License Agreements. Overnight. Alone. In the office. On a Friday.

The closest thing to modern day slavery, this....*guffaw*

Which perhaps explains why I left the legal profession for a whole year at one point and went to work at this funny little office down in Medan Pasar.

The Council.

It was the closest thing to being in the civil service without actually being in the civil service.

As a change of pace, I did honestly enjoy the paucity of intelligent thought involved in the job. For a while, at least. But it quickly became apparent that the place just wasn’t my cup of tea. Or coffee, in my case.

Reason for this trip down memory lane?

Clearing out my Outlook inbox yesterday, it quickly became apparent how things have changed since then.

For one, the sheer amount of mails sitting uncategorised into neat folders was annoying. Secondly, and rather more tellingly, was the amount of e-mails sent out by yours truly at frankly ridiculous hours in the morning.

4am on Monday morning. 3.30am Tuesday morning. Hell – there was even one sent out at 2am on a SUNDAY.

Then it dawned on me.

I think I’ve become the very thing I hated most in my early years of practice.

I’m officially a workaholic. *gasp*

On MSN with the Duchess of Pink in the wee hours of Tuesday morning:

Me : What are you doing up at this hour?
Duchess: Working! This is SO wrong!
Me : What is?
Duchess : Working lah! People should not have to work this late!
Me : If its any consolation, I’m working too :P
Duchess : Sigh
Me : But you know....I kinda enjoy it. You get more work done at this hour!
Duchess : Seriously. What’s wrong with you?

As they say...misery loves company.

Wonder if they have the AA equivalent for these things.......

Weekend Roundup No.30/2009 - Lessons on Mortality

It’s been a long, tiring weekend for this Nut. The usual weekend roundup this most certainly isn’t.

Sure, we did manage to squeeze in some fun on Saturday when the inimitable Booker woke up with a death wish and decided to give RPM Challenge a go.

All smiles before class:

And the aftermath:

Booker : I can’t feel my arse. And my hamstrings hurt!
Me : That’s your quadriceps, darling...*snigger*
Booker : Shuttup. I hate you.

The quest to find suitable furnishings for New Kensington continued that afternoon:

This gorgeous sofa was spotted at Macy’s. Upholstered with enough cow hide to make even the most ardent leather daddy envious.

Pity it costs an arm, a leg and a couple of eyeballs.

The jury’s still out on this one. It’s mighty tempting, but losing the budget for the reproduction Arco lamp may prove too bitter a pill to swallow. One to ponder upon for the next couple of weeks while I pray hard for this piece of leather heaven to go on sale.

We also popped by Starbucks to check out the festive mugs which have just begun to fill their merchandise shelves.

Don’t you just love Christmas?

On our way out, this sight gave Booker and I the giggles:

PINK mirrors on a BLUE Mini? Proof positive that money doesn’t always equate to good taste. Or decent colour coordination skills.

But the weekend wasn’t all fun & joy.

AgentM, T3 and myself spent a lot of time at the Assunta Hospital throughout the last couple of days. AgentA’s dad had developed complications after a knee replacement surgery, and was in ICU for the better part of the weekend. We prayed. We hoped for the best, but in the end, he left us for a better place late Saturday night.

We spent most of Sunday helping AgentA out with the preparations for the funeral, although it never felt like it was quite enough.

Mortality.

If anything, I think this year’s lesson has been all about that. I’ve witnessed not one, not two, but three of my close friends lose their fathers. In a span of less than 6 months. Statistically, that’s pretty shocking. Emotionally, it’s just heartbreaking to see friends lose family like that.

Makes me realise just how lucky I am to have the folks still around, despite their ability to frustrate and annoy me at times. Perhaps it’s time I seriously reconsidered my vehement objections to MommaNut and DaddyNut moving in with me.....

Nutty Editorial Nightmares

So how's the...urm....new pad? Is it comfy?

I reckon I’m every editor’s nightmare. And I make no apologies for it. Having had my fair share of magazine features and such, I’ve learnt rather quickly, that if you're ever featured ANYWHERE on print, you should never let the issue go to press without at least:

(1) Proof reading the final cut

Things do indeed get lost in translation. What you say can often get misquoted or taken entirely out of context. And if you’re in a profession as staunchly protective of its impeachable image of stoicism as this Nut’s, saying the wrong thing on print could often mean saying goodbye to your practicing license.

So beg. Plead. Or if necessary, issue threats. Just get your hands on the final copy and read it. Line by line. Word by word. And just in case, run it through spellcheck. Cos you’d be surprised how many typos I’ve spotted in “print-ready” proof copies.

(2) Taking a look at the pictures that will possibly accompany your article

A brilliant write-up is nothing without decent pics on the side. Although the subject matter itself can present numerous limitations, there’s really no harm in “suggesting” which pics should be in or out of consideration. Photographers are usually quite an accommodating lot.

Even if they’re not, you can always “accidentally” hit the “delete” button on the ones that make you look like Shrek when they’re not looking. Sadly, in my case, this usually means deleting two thirds of all the shots taken. A bit hard to hide, this. But seriously, go ahead. Bribe them. Buy them Starbucks. Or Prada. Make sure they listen to you one way or the other. Cos your sex life is on the line here and it’s really no time to be penny pinching.

(3) Asking what the headline or title will be like

A great article with great pictures is nothing without an attention grabbing headline. Though the kind of attention you ultimately want to get is of the desirable variety. Cos the last thing you want is for something like this to appear on the cover with your name on it:

Spotted this while I was browsing for home decor magazines at a neighbourhood newsstand in PJ State. I had to look twice just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.

What’s wrong, you ask? Take a closer look:

Talk about “BOOMZ” moments. One can’t help but ask WHICH pad the article is referring to.

If I were Ms. Poo, I’d be hunting down the copywriter who came up with this. With a pitchfork. Or better yet. A lawyer.

After all, it's not like there weren't any alternatives.

"Abode", perhaps?
Or maybe "residence"?
Hell, he or she could've played it safe and used "home" instead.
But nooo....."pad".
For an article featuring a lady.

Wouldn't put it past this bright bunny of a copywriter to title the next piece "Andy's proud erection". *guffaw*

And this ladies and gents, is why you should never just do an interview and leave everything else to the editors and their copywriters. *snigger*