The Glory of the 3 Ring Binders

Last weekend I attended a leadership conference for the Student Union Activities Board, which I am a member of. I’m not the biggest fan of leadership conferences or team building exercises, but I do enjoy going to new places and having food, gas, and lodging paid for. That also explains why I’m not overly concerned about being kidnapped.

Besides, college leadership activities are never filled with corporate phrases such as “proactive actualization of the ideational process to interbind community structure.” After that sentence, I hereby declare my new occupation as corporate consultant.

You can judge the quality of a conference on one thing: Did they give you a little binder to doodle in while you listened? The International Plastic Binder Cartel has field agents who infiltrate every organization and demand that 3-ring binders are constantly purchased. Conferences held in Las Vegas are exempt from binder status-quo. Would you sleep with someone who had been wearing a name badge and holding a plastic binder five minutes earlier?

So a conference without a binder is like sex without a partner in that either way it still happens. We of course received great binders that contained excellent illustrations from the 1960’s or Microsoft Word’s Office 2003.

Let’s examine these workers:

• A.) This guy is Robert Duval as Tom Hagen in the God Father. He gets things done.

  

• B.) His name is Ted. The combination of large sunglasses plus a creeper-stache correctly profiles this guy as the groups registered sex offender and teller of obscene jokes.
• C.) Under paid secretary, who obviously does not know how to dress, but takes pride in her burly shoulders and Swing-line stapler, which is the closest she’ll ever be to a swinger.
• D.) If you’re wearing sunglasses at a meeting you’re sex offender, douchebag, or a drunk. This guy doesn’t have a creepy-stache or a suit jacket, so he is the drunk. But he is a good salesman and sets the companies monthly sales records. He got hammered on his way back from some important sales pitch, he nailed the stewardess after his return flight, and his coffee is bourbon.
• E.) This guy is the token black guy, or that Indian who cried in the littering commercials.
• F.) People with high levels of dept always stand up in the background.
• G.) She sleeps with people who stand up in the background.

Of course, I promptly doodled in a few words and transformed the picture in to a comedic work of art.

Tada!

The phrase “The left one,” is what makes the entire thing work for me.

p.s. - Yes, we had to read Nicole Richie’s book for class as well.

Confessions of a Blogger

Yes, that is a picture of me holding my own copy of “Confessions of an Heiress” by Paris Hilton. We’re required to read the book for the English Class “Film as Literature.” I had a lot of fun buying this book along side books such as “Neurobiological Psychology: 5th edition.” Not to pull out a harridan-like joke, but there is only one film I’m aware of Paris being in. If home movies are the theme of the class, then I cringe at the thought of having to endure home movies of the other authors we will be reading, such as James Fry (”A Million Little Pieces”), who is less attractive than President Taft stuck in a tub during an embarrassing moment with Jabba the Hutt.

As I read the book I’ll be sure to post the most interesting quotes gleaned from the inside of the pink covered book’s paragraph-long chapters and cursive + gold font headings. Even more ridiculous than getting to charge this book to the bursar is that even the pictures in the book (the only possible redeeming part) are all terrible; an accomplished feat for someone who has had more good photographs taken of her than most people will have red blood cells in their life.

Update: At class the professor informed us the focus of the class is the false image of the self in autobiographies, so we’ll also be reading Nicole Richie’s book and exploring the world of LonelyGirl15, Breaking Bonaduchebag, and other bits of more modern culture. We’ll also look at more serious works, such as “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl” by Harriet Jacobs.

Some Late Night Lebowski

Not my best score ever.

Note: I’m listening to Radiohead’s Ok Computer at the moment, and a car alarm is going off outside my window in perfect rhythm to the song Airbag. Once again Tom Yorke and the Ford Motor Corporation never cease to amaze me.

Monday night Kevin, Alisonn, Laura, and I ventured to the local Stillwater bowling alley. Not only is bowling only $2.00 a game after 9:00pm, but my grandfather worked as a pin monkey when he was young (seriously, he was the guy who set up the pins before automatic bowling machines invaded), so bowling is an inexpensive way to remember my heritage and exercise my writing arm.

Me and Laura.

Two notable things happened.

First, I discovered that my boss is in a bowling league on Monday nights. She average 110 pins over the league average this week, which is impressive because she isn’t much taller than a hobbit and she might have a shorter arm span. Either way, she is a damn impressive bowler and now I know where she channels all of her frustration after a long day of working IT.

Alisonn and Kevin.

Second, I had a witty quote. And since this is my blog, I’m going to indulge us. Laura has a very short attention span for any movie that doesn’t involve Will Ferrel and an even shorter attention span for most sports. About 3 frames in to each game she begins to randomly bowl, which results in odd performance, such as 4 or 5 strikes coupled with 8 or 9 gutter balls. So, I gave her a little pep talk, after which she got a spare.

Alisonn: “Wow, your pep talks must be good.”
Me: “You should hear my pillow talk.”

Before you freak out and think “How can he say that to someone in front of his girlfriend” I can say this to Alisonn for multiple reasons. First, she is an awesome friend. Second, I’m never serious. Third, she dates Kevin. Fourth, my pillow talk is amazing. I’ll post a podcast of it later for everyone to listen to.