Is it strange that after so many Fridays over the course of our lives, this Friday is just as exciting as all the rest? Is it weird that while every other single item in our lives that repeats over and over again (another cookie, a birthday, lunchtime, the dentist, et al) gets old and boring and before long we can’t bear to experience it any longer — Friday continues to be just as exciting every single time?
It’s sort of like “Words For Your Enjoyment” — fresh, exciting, filled with 94% of all those extra vitamins and minerals you look for in starting off your weekend… And this week, is of course, no different.
Believe it or not, no matter what you think you know…your boss hates you.
He/she hates the way you come in on time, all cheery and such. They can’t stand the way you get your work done on time. The thoroughness. The attention to detail. The good-natured attitude when they give you even more work to do. All they can think as they watch you go about your day is that it must stop.
But their hands are tied.
Sure, it’s a neat little lexiconian phrase that people in media can use and it’s sure got a nice twang to it and all, but really, honestly, did you ever stand by the watercooler and discuss the day’s events and drink cup after cup after cup after cup of water out of those annoyingly-cheap conical paper-cups that they make you pee into at the doctor’s office?
No, I didn’t think so.
Find me someone who actually does stand around a watercooler and talk about what they saw on TV last night or how they think Bush is doing in his second term or what they did this past weekend or why they’re wearing pumps instead of heels and I’ll give you someone who (a) gets no work done, (b) goes to the bathroom every fifteen minutes, and (c) has really great looking skin due to the neverending imbibing of H20 every second of every day.
I fear the cushy ball.
I guess I’ll have to come clean and tell you that I am not a good basketball player. I was never a fan of running up and down a basketball court, I was always travelling with the ball and if you asked me to do a lay-up, I would most likely miss the basket altogether and end up stepping out of bounds as I slammed into someone else and (had it been a professional game) caused a foul.
There are two kinds of people in Hollywood. Those who want their friends to succeed, genuinely. And those who say they want their friends to succeed.
I am definitely the first of the two.
I never quite got people who came to town with goals in mind to be a writer or a producer or a director and developed friendships with their fellow assistants or those in their social circles and then the day that one of their friends got a huge deal slapped in their lap — those “friends” would start talking crap behind their backs. How they didn’t deserve it. How they weren’t talented enough for such merits.