Well, I’m back. Sort of. I’m back in the office, t…
Well, I’m back. Sort of. I’m back in the office, took the last of my medicine this morning, and I don’t feel too bad just yet. Reality is slowly tearing back the cobwebs of the cold medicine-induced stupor I’ve been wandering around in for the past week. I took the precaution of not riding my motorcycle in case I suddenly fall asleep. I think I must have caught something similar if not in fact identical to Luke’s Throat of Death.
It’s still cold out, but at least it’s nice and sunny. I feel like I’ve been away for a long time, which is a good thing. The bad thing is, in spite of the fact that we had four days off, various people still felt compelled to demonstrate their loyalty to the company by working during their vacations, so when I dragged myself in this morning my inbox was filled with work. These are the same people who refuse to take days off when they’re sick, wanting instead to impress the bigwigs with their “loyalty”, thereby stretching out a cold that would have gotten better in a day or two to two weeks of coughing and hacking all over the office so that everyone else is infected as well. When I say “You should take a day or two off to get better,” I’m not being nice. I’m being selfish. I want you to stop being a walking source of potential infection in my vicinity.
I think my book is pretty much done. I say that because I really don’t know what else to do to it besides publish it. It’s not a great literary masterpiece, nor is it a terribly scholarly work, but it’s there. I contacted a couple of people I know who might know something about getting things published, but otherwise, aside from combing the millions of publishing sites on the Internet for something useful, I don’t know what else to do. Hopefully I can get in touch with the alumni office of my university and see whether there’s anyone out there willing to help me out with this. Your suggestions are welcome as well, of course.
I’ve just discovered that I can search for stuff in my archives much more quickly using Google than by trying to guess when some particular thing happened. I’m pretty sure I’m the only Poagao on the Internet (so far, anyway), so really, if you want to know whether I’ve mentioned or discussed something on here, all you have to do is a google search for “Poagao” and whatever it is you’re looking for. Neat-o stuff, kids. I do wish that the people looking for unclothed representations of a certain American-born Chinese “singer” whose name sounds like a breakfast cereal would stop bothering to look for them here, though. Geez, I hate being subtle.
We’re supposed to be moving over to our new building, the one right next to the movie theater complex in the heart of the Fabulous Hsinyi District, on the weekend of the 19th/20th. Nobody has mentioned anything about it yet, which makes me suspicious. No doubt the company is too cheap to hire a moving company and wants us to do it all ourselves. “The economy is bad!” some manager will try to cite as his reasoning, right before I shove a dolly up his ass. Happy New Year!
And why is it that strange, random women from all over the world keep adding me to their ICQ lists? I was just added to the list of a 19-year-old Brazilian girl named “Silvana”. Is Poagao All The Rage in Brazil? Am I The Cat’s Pajamas in Croatia? Are girls in small villages in the Urals hanging on my every word, dying to know what stupid things Whiny Woman will utter today? (today’s quote, as she was on the phone looking for pre-schools for her kid: “Are the students actually in a class together?”)
I fear I have no choice but to arrive at the inescapable conclusion that I’m a chick magnet, which would be great if I weren’t also a ‘mo.
Ok, so maybe I’m not completely over this cold yet.
