Morning: Ruined.

Life is a mysterious thing and one never knows when it will suddenly pay out like a son-of-a-bitch. So it was that I was sitting in a cafe this morning sipping a large mug of coffee and chewing on a wonderful breakfast that I'd had the temerity to order. I'd been at the glass cabinet minutes before staring dourly at the healthful, bran-filled clumps that were trying desperately to pass themselves off as muffins, when I saw a hastily scrawled sign for half a baguette with butter and preservatives tossed in the back of the case like an after-thought. "Well, I don't know how a right-thinking person could pass up on all this nutritious and bowl cleansing goodness", the store keeper had no doubt thought to himself, "but I suppose we ought to give them some sort of second option which the sensible will no doubt ignore."

I read the sign and had a moment of schoolyard doubt. All sorts of questions raced through my head. Will I appear girly I wondered? Would I look like some sort of Continental wanna-be catching a quick meal before his beret fitting? Is America ready for this sort of thing? Isn't preservatives just a fancy word for jam?

Anyways I ordered it and it was fucking great. I was enjoying this hearty, yes hearty, breakfast when my view was disturbed by a man dressed in a bright red, biking uniform of the lycra variety. The kind that makes a fair attempt at making the human body into a completely streamlined form, but only succeeds in making him look like a total ass. The fact that this exercising idiot was in his fortys didn't improve things at all. I shifted slightly to avert my gaze politely and realized my error. Of course these people travel in packs, I mean the outfit alone merits the protection that only a huge gang can provide. But why, I wondered did it necessitate wondering into my cafe? Luckily I had already finished my breakfast when they started inquiring about each others bikes. I mean what's the point of buying $4000 bicycles if we can't loudly jaw about them with each other in spandex get-ups?

It makes me think my brother-in-law might be correct when he darkly mutters that we should just all move to France.

That and they like to drink at lunch which I am totally down with...
el Jefe

"Thank you Hollywood", a letter.

Dear Sir or Madam
Hello. I am el Jefe, a humble movie fan, and I write to you today just as one man communicating his feelings to a unknowable market conglomeration. I have recently viewed the trailer for the movie "Confetti" on the internet via the Apple website. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you. You see, I have been burdened throughout my life by a crippling Anglophilia. The various accents and speach structures native to the Isles have captivated me from a young age. Although I am an American citizen and therefore have a certain understandable contempt for foriegners and their ilk, I can't help but be captivated by these people and all there strange and interesting ways. I even enjoy it when American actors take on British accents even though they are patently false.

Anyhoo, after watching this trailer I realized that you have created the perfect vehicle to rid me of this terrible affliction. Upon viewing it for the third time, it occured to me that it was very probably that while viewing this film in its entirety that I would suffer enough gastric distress to effectively render my gastrointestinal infrastructure into nothing more than an indeterminate goo. After "busting a gut" as they say, I hope to attain a Pavlovian revulsion for the British and be the "God bless America" singing Son of the Revolution that my disappointed parents so deserved.

Good luck to us all

Sincerely
el Jefe

Slow day...

This morning I was entering the elevator to my office when I realized that I was supposed to have shown up at 8:30 to setup a wireless mic for the board meeting we are hosting. I had dressed nicely because of the board, tried to be on time to work, and now I had already fucked up.

el Jefe: "Shit." [jabs the elevator button a few more times]

For reasons that I can't fully explain, this triggered a work epiphany.

I have no prospect of promotion or of ever getting a raise. I am underpaid.

I thought about this for a while and wondered why I had bothered tucking in my shirt today.

It gets worse. Today I mouthed "You're fucking crazy" at the back of a users head as I followed them down the hall to their computer. While this is an accurate statement of fact, it was also completely unprofessional. For some reason I'm not bottling it up as well as I used to.

After giving it some thought as I stood on a co-workers desk and surveyed the cube world around me(it seems like everyone else is out or knew to take today off), I decided to cut out early and watch a movie at the theatre across the street. I'm going to buy Twizzlers for my lunch, watch Harry Potter, and try to remember that I am full of potential.

at least I got paid today
el Jefe