The Ink-Pot and the Palette

Some people may recall that I have a well-meaning but workaholic colleague whom, for reasons, I refer to online as "Norm."

Lately, as my retirement impends and my job description morphs to cleanup-and-closure, I've had less and less to do with Norm, and it's been lovely. Norm has, however, handed a project off to me to finish up. I think he sees it as the peanut-butter jar with the stuck lid: if I can get the lid off now it's because he loosened it.

I see it as my task to de-Normify the project (which is to say, cut a lot of self-important workaholic bullshit out of it).

So anyway, the day I took over the project, the customer appointed a new project manager for their side. And guess what?

• He looks like Norm
• He acts like Norm
• He talks like Norm
• His name is fuckin' Norm

I am not kidding. He has the same actual first real name as Norm. It's...the eternal recurrence. Or something.

I've been sooooo orderly lately!

( It's driving me nuts. )

I'm having one of those days where I feel like I've already read the whole internet and now there's nothing to do!

But then my Big Boss, the mayor, Twittered this and I had something to do!

GOOD NEWS: you can OPT OUT of receiving phone books at your door. details here: http://bit.ly/ajyRk7. Spread the word.

If you get Dex directories (which I think may be only from Qwest), give it a try. They bury that opt-out thing in obscurity, and the instructions are on that bit.ly page. Now if I could find the same service for that lame-ass weekly "Living" section from the newspaper...