ss1

Just Screwing Around
2005-04-06 - 12:22 a.m.


before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

I sat at my cubie at work.  On my laptop, which sits next to my desktop, the marquee screen saver crawled across the screen.


"Stay away from my computer, BIATCH!", it read.


My boss walked by.  Nice guy, in his thirties.  Psychology major in college.  Very plain looking man with hair like Opie from Mayberry.  I kind of like him.  He could be a total prick asshole, but he's not.


He looked up and saw my crawl.


"You might want to change that."  he said, with a laugh.


"Yeah."


[pause]


He turned to walk out the door, then looked back,


"And you spelled it wrong...it should read.." and he mouthed the word 'bitch'.


"Yeah, I have trouble with spelling," I said.


 


--------


 


My boss gave us a website to work on our MS Frontpage skills.  I know how to set up websites, so I got a picture of a freakish looking employee out at one of the country plants, one with a grey fu-manchu beard, 'stache, and mullet, from some sort of company card party, fundraiser type of thing out in the sticks or something, I don't know.  And I set it as the background to the website, which is a copy of the corporate one.  As a watermark, so the text scrolled nicely over the mullet.


And I forgot about it.


A month later we sat in team meeting as he brought the website up.  And there the mullet sat, playing cards.


"Oh, no. No, no, no.  This-" he said, as he attempted to scroll the mullet away, but it didn't move," This is not what this is for."


I sat there and looked straight forward, not smiling.


"I'm not pointing any fingers at anyone.  I'm just saying, this needs to be fixed.  Someone.  After the meeting."


He tried to do some more frontpage training, but eventually he couldn't avoid the mullet.  Flipping back to the main page, titters broke out around the room.


"Fix it." he said pedantically.


He's a good guy.  I mean, fuck, of course it was me.  I have a folder for a book for one of my classes plastered with the picture.  I had it up in my cubicle for a few weeks.


I took it down later, and not a word was said.  Which, for me anyway, makes it all the more funny.


-----


Today at class we sent the remote kill signal to our instructors computer.  He was all excited about some shit, babbling away, I don't know about what.


"Do it. Do it. Do it." I pleaded with my classmate, Chris.


Chris typed up the command.


"Should I leave him any time to cancel?"  he asked.


"No!  Do it!"  I implored.


He turned the keyboard over to me.  I struck enter.


"And somebody killed my computer." our professor said flathly as it shut down in front of him while trying to load a cd.


He turned to the class.  Stone silence.  A sea of dumbfounded faces.


I turned to Chris, who was beet red, and smiled.  He burst out into gales of laughter, which I followed closely behind.  Couldn't let my friend be alone in the mix.


"Gee.  And I wonder who did it."  our professor said, looking at us.


I looked at the silent mexiacn kid with a bad complexion, Alejandro, who's sat through the entire class without saying a word edgewise to anyone.  I blamed him.


"I think Alejandro did it," I said, "Its always the quiet ones."


Indeed.


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