The woman in the cubicle next to me spends about 9…
The woman in the cubicle next to me spends about 98% of her time discussing her kids on the phone in that typical whiny voice Chinese women use, either habitually or when they want something. I don’t know how they do it without hurting their throats.She cannot spend more than a minute without picking up the phone and talking about her kids. I hope the party with whom she is discussing these details is a relatively sane individual, or else one of these days we are going to have a murder on our hands. Occasionally one of her bosses will come up and say something work-related to her, but as soon as they’re gone, she goes back to discussing her kids on the phone. I can’t complain, really, because here I am discussing her in this journal while I am supposed to be editing an incredibly boring, whiny statistics report(Waaah! The Economy is bad! Let’s stop investing in anything and fire people, maybe that’ll make it go away! Waaah!). But wait! Yes I can, because at least I am not spewing vapidity randomly across a public office. No, that would be too easy. I am spewing vapidity online! Cybervapidity! The scourge of the Internet! Is this really what you want your precious bandwidth being used for?
If you’re still here, apparently so. Ok, then.
My buddy Mindcrime is currently making a cross-country jaunt across America with his girlfriend. After months of the rare update, he is posting to his site pretty much every day, or at least until he gets to St.Louis, where no doubt he will enlighten us concerning the various faults of that fair city’s people.
Steve just called and said he is going to meet up with a couple of friends and friends of friends, including a movie director, at 45 tonight. This could be interesting. The reason I say this, aside from the obvious, is that, before 45 was made into a bar, it was an old, traditional Chinese house, and back when I was working with Edward Yang and Hayashi Kaisho on “The Breath“, we appropriated the second story of this particular old house for a scene in the movie. Appropriately enough, it was a bar scene, and many of the crew, including myself, were asked to play the drunken partygoers. We were even supplied with real alcohol to help us get into the proper mood. I remember expressing concern that I was wearing the same clothes as I had for another scene I was in, a jail scene down in Tainan, but nobody seemed to see a problem with it. My hair was also just getting over my first mohawk back then, too. Ah, youth.
In the meantime, I am stuck here, as usual, cringing every time I save a Word document, hesitating, lest the Blue Screen o’ Death sear my eyes as punishment(as if the repetitive, unoriginal Chinese love songs blasting from the back of the office weren’t enough!) for trying to force our antiquated LAN to actually transfer information! I am such an infidel.
