The Boxed Set Dilemma

Arrid, extra dry! Remember those commercials? Well, that’s how my mind has been. Extra dry.

The month of October has been especially slow for me. Maybe I haven’t been going out enough, so nothing interesting enough to write about has happened. Whatever the reason, my brain is like a desert. Hopefully November will bring an oasis.

That being said, let me just take a moment to express my frustration with the Indiana Jones DVD Boxed Set.

I am an avid Indiana Jones fan and own the VHS boxed set. I remember how excited I was to get the whole movie series, and how I watched each videotape multiple times. And now, years later, the DVD has finally been released, with a fourth DVD that is chock full of The-Making-of’s and Never Before Seen’s.

What kind of horrible torture is this?

I invested the money in my first boxed set, and was more than content with it, only to now shun it in desire for the DVD set. My poor boxed set is now an outcast in my video collection because it is no longer good enough! But me, being the cheap Chinese person that I am, cannot bring myself to buy the DVD set and upgrade. I mean, what’s the point of having two copies of each movie, just so I can get the one extra footage DVD? That’s no justification.

I must say that those marketing people are pretty damn sadistic. Especially since they’ve released the DVD set now, and the fourth Indiana Jones movie isn’t scheduled to be released until 2005. At which time, I’m sure another newer and better version of today’s DVD boxed set will magically appear. If I give in to the desire, will I then have two rejected and outdated boxed sets in my closet?

Instant gratification! That’s how my generation was brought up, and that’s how I would love to live. But I’ll get the best of those marketing people. Regardless how much my credit card itches to purchase the DVDs on Amazon.com, I will wait until the fourth Indiana Jones movie comes out. At least I’ll have a better excuse to buy it then.

The waiting game really does suck though. I’m still waiting for the last Lord of the Rings movie to come out in the theaters, and then on DVD, so that I can buy the whole trilogy in one boxed set and feel satisfied that I wasn’t duped into buying them all individually.

Which Friend Are You?

This past weekend, I took a road trip up to Vermont and stayed in a bed and breakfast called the Gray Ghost Inn. We all know that while there are a lot of activities to do during the day, there is not much in the way of night-life there. As a result, Edwin and I turned to good, old-fashioned, fun for the whole family activities. We played Scrabble.

I love playing Scrabble. What I don’t love is losing at Scrabble. Get me into a situation where I’m not playing on a team, and the game is largely dependent on my intellectual abilities, I will get rather defensive and competitive.

So I was kicking ass and ahead by at least 40 points, when I finally tried setting myself up for a triple-word-score. I had finally gotten rid of my three “I’s” and three “O’s” (what horrible luck!) and I was ready to make some words, dammit.

With my heart starting to beat a little faster, I set down the word “kiss.” My plan was to add an “E-R-S” to the end of it at my next turn, and get the triple word score on the last “S”. It was so close to the end of the game that I didn’t think Edwin would have many good tiles left. I thought wrong.

He proceeded to steal my triple-word-score from me by adding an “I-N-G”.

At first I sat dumbfounded and speechless. I totaled the score, and I was still over 40 points ahead. But that was no consolation compared to the satisfaction that I would have had by getting a triple-word-score! My speechlessness soon turned into anger.

“I don’t want to play anymore. You stole my triple-word-score!” I said. Edwin started laughing. I threw the little wooden bars that hold the tiles into the box. Luckily, there were other people in the game room, otherwise, I would have stormed off. And then it struck me. I’m a Monica.

Is this a bad thing? So what if I like to have my towels hanging so they’re symmetrical, or I can tell when someone has rotated the cups in my cabinets so the handles aren’t facing the right direction? So what if, when I was a kid, I would rearrange the gum in the checkout aisles in the grocery store so that the letters all faced the same way? So what if I like to organize my books at home so that they’re alphabetized by author’s last name and arranged by size? And, so what if I make my friends save their eraser bits and throw them into the trashcan instead of sweeping them onto the floor?

Why do I feel like there’s a slightly negative connotation by being Monica? I guess I can only console myself by believing that I balance out the Phoebe’s and the Rachel’s of the world.

So…which “Friend” are you?

Mute This

At work, there is a man that sits across the aisle from me whom I will call Mr. Dirty Teeth. Yes, he really does have dirty teeth. His two front teeth are tinged gray around the edges. And that’s only the part I can see. I shudder to think about the rest of his teeth.

So, yesterday, Mr. Dirty Teeth was apparently trying to get my attention. He wanted to know how to put his phone on handsfree mute. Without addressing me by name, he calls out, “Do you know how to put the phone on handsfree mute?” I, trying to look busy at my desk, continued browsing the internet. So he tried again, this time getting up from his desk and running across the aisle into my cubicle, still neglecting to call me by name.

“Hey, do you know how to put the phone on handsfree mute?” he said louder.

When he came into my cubicle, I finally realized that he was talking to me. Apparently I have no name. I turned around to look at him, and was rather irritated with the look he was giving me. It was mixed with belligerence and confusion. For some reason, he couldn’t understand that I did not know that he was talking to me. Maybe he should try addressing people with their names instead of “Hey!” and a wave of his hand. Or maybe he should stop assuming that people are listening to him and his all-important phone conversations. At any rate, the look he was giving me clearly showed that he thought I (1) should know how to use the handsfree mute and (2) was purposely ignoring him.

Now, I did not know how to use the handsfree mute. I still don't. But, given that there is a button on the phone labeled “Handsfree Mute,” I concluded that it was pretty self-explanatory. However, with the look he was giving me, I had absolutely no desire to try and figure it out. So I simply replied, “Sorry,” shrugged my shoulders, and got back to my web-surfing. As I turned, I could see his expression darken. My irritation began to grow.

I already have a problem with Mr. Dirty Teeth because he is the type of person that will ask you what you’re eating in hopes that you will offer him some. And then he’ll gobble it up using his dirty front teeth. I remember the first time I noticed this when I had a bag of Rold Gold honey wheat pretzel twists, and was sharing them with some of my coworkers. Out of nowhere, Mr. Dirty Teeth was in my cubicle and asking me innocently, “What are those?” To quote Clueless, “As if!” I would have had no problem sharing them with him had he just asked for some.

As a result, I cannot eat my honey wheat pretzel twists in peace. I am forever waiting for Mr. Dirty Teeth to leave his desk or get on the phone before I reach into my desk drawer, pull out my bag of pretzel twists, put some on a napkin, and then hide my pretzel bag back in my desk drawer before he can notice. All of that just to avoid having to share my pretzel twists with Mr. Dirty Teeth. I feel slightly guilty because he did offer my chocolate once, but after seeing all the chocolate staining his teeth, I quickly declined. I’m not a big chocolate person anyways.

Now, I’m not a selfish person. I always share my food with my friends. But I don’t like sharing my food with people who ask for some in a way that makes me offer food to them. None of my friends do that. When someone does that, it just says something shady about the rest of that person’s character.

The other day, I was walking back to the office from lunch, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone walking extremely (and might I add, unnecessarily) fast. It wasn’t the extremely quick pace at which he was walking that made me notice him, but more the duck-like, speed-walking technique that he had. And when I looked up and saw his face, I was shocked to discover it was Mr. Dirty Teeth. With my quick thinking, I took a different set of elevators up to my floor instead to avoid sharing a slow elevator car with Mr. Dirty Teeth.

He should be renamed Mr. Walks-With-a-Hanger-Up-My-Ass instead.

Random

I just found out that a guy in my office fell asleep at his desk yesterday and fell out of his chair! Too bad I missed that. He needs to be schooled in the Stall Nap.I really shouldn't be one to talk though. Yesterday, I went home for lunch and fell asleep on my couch. I got back to the office almost an hour later than I should have. Oops.

The Stall Nap

The most difficult thing about making the transition from college to full-time work was adjusting to being awake for more than eight consecutive hours. Being accustomed to short classes and frequent breaks, sitting in front of a computer for one workday became a rather daunting task.

I first discovered I might have this problem during my internship the summer before my senior year of college. Being lucky enough to work with friends, I was even luckier to share a large cubicle with a close classmate, and we spent ample time discovering new ways to whittle away eight hours of the day in the office.

It started off innocently enough. For the BART ride into the city, I would bring my summer reading novels. With nothing to do all day, and boredom to overcome, I couldn’t help but begin reading these novels while in the office to prevent myself from dozing off. Strategically hiding my novels underneath my keyboard, I quickly ran out of books to read. And so it began. The art of sleeping at work.

During that internship, I perfected the technique of sleeping while sitting up – which I dubbed the “Subtle Sleeper.” My head would just slightly nod over the keyboard, while my right hand peacefully rested on the mouse. And if I were to ever hear anyone walking by my cubicle, I would start moving the mouse around, never opening my eyes. This easily worked during my internship since I sat in the back corner of a cubicle and faced a wall. The only thing people could see while walking by was my back.

However, when I began working full-time, I was faced with a completely new situation. Instead of a cubicle set-up, my office was a sea of open desks. Well, my company was small, so not quite a sea, but more like a puddle. With this open desk set-up, Subtle Sleeper would be a definite failure. I had to come up with something else – something better. Enter the Stall Nap.

It is important to note here that I was not just working a normal eight-hour day. At this time, my typical day lasted anywhere from 12 to 15 hours.

Now, there are other ways to fight sleepiness on the job, and trust me, I’ve tried all of them. I’ve written pages of gibberish in order to keep myself busy. I’ve drank glass after glass of water. I’ve listened to loud music. But all of these methods only offered me five to ten minutes of respite from the power of sleep. When it finally became too painful to fight back falling asleep, I had to resort to the Stall Nap.

For 10 to 15 minute periods, I would go to the bathroom, find a nice, quiet stall (preferably one against a wall to prevent being surrounded by actual bathroom users), put the seat cover down, sit, and sleep. Oh, the relief of being able to close my eyes – what bliss! And then I discovered I wasn’t the only one.

While on a project, one of my coworkers disappeared to the bathroom. Soon thereafter, another coworker also went to the bathroom. When Coworker #2 returned, he described what just transpired.

“I went into the bathroom and [Coworker #1] was just sitting in a stall. There was no movement, so finally I asked [Coworker #1] if he was okay. After a shift of the feet, he said he was fine. And then it dawned on me. ‘Are you taking a nap?’ I asked. ‘Yeah. Go away, I’m trying to sleep,’ [Coworker #1] responded. ‘If you’re sleeping, then why are your pants down?’ I asked. ‘I’m trying to make it look real!’ [Coworker #1] squeaked back. To which I laughed, and then ran back here to tell you guys.”

After this, almost every one of my coworkers admitted that they also use the Stall Nap – and each one had a slightly different technique. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad that I couldn’t stay awake for more than eight hours at one time – I felt like part of the club!

As for me, I don’t go for the realistic look during my stall naps. I’m perfectly happy keeping my pants on while feigning bathroom use, and if someone figures me out, I could care less in the happy dreams I am having.