Tuesday, January 18, 2005


Is anyone else experiencing the delightful new phenomenon of pop-up ads with sound...?

I'll be contentedly pretending to work when all of the sudden, it's SALAD SHOOTER! Or SUPER BRA-!!! Or GRIP 'N FLIP!, "a unique new spatula with a precision gripping action" which helps you not flop when you flip or drop when you flop or something...wait, maybe that was the ad for the bra. In which case, I do need one of those.

But it's kind of embarrassing when I'm trying to go about my business of looking official and all of the sudden, salads shooters are shouting out my a**. People probably think I have late-night television Tourette's Syndrome.

What next, POOP 'N CHUTE!? Or FUCK 'N CLUCK!? Enjoy experiencing loving relations while frying up a chicken dinner at the same time! Or possibly CRAP 'N FLAP!? A unique new system which allows you to use the toilet while making fantastic flapjacks...!?!

I just don't want these poppity whack-a-mole guys popping up at work. Is that so much to ask...?

You're probably thinking, why doesn't she just tell the I/T guy...?

Because. The I/T guy hates me. Also, he is too busy herding his small child around and breeding pugs in his kitchen to bother to learn about this crap. So he probably doesn't know how to get rid of 'em, and if he does, he's not talking. And no, I cannot install any blockers, either. I have to get permission. But even though I have to get permission, various and sundry spyware installs itself wherever and whenever, like a hooker on Hollywood Blvd. Hence the pop-up infestation.

However, if molested, the I/T guy gets really irate (probably because he doesn't know the answer but is too defensive to seek help) and says that it is my fault that I have all these problems, because I've been "surfing". Which is part of my job, mind you.

When I question this, he changes his strategy from shifting the blame to me to outright denying the problem. For example, yesterday I said that my Outlook web mail is really slow. "No, it's not," was his reply.


Then, if I continue to annoy him, he will say something to my boss, who doesn't understand a damn thing he says, so he just repeats what Mr. So-Called I/T Guy said, word-for-word, as if he actually knows what it means.

And so the cycle continues. Singing "The Circle of Shite!!! Is a wheel of horse shiiiit...!"

Maybe I'll just haul off and buy one of those spatulas. Mr. So-Called I/T Guy, or at least a certain party of his anatomy, needs to be gripped and flipped.


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