Posts Tagged ‘howard stern’
Glimmer in the City
Posted on: March 1, 2012
Oh, hi. Come here often?
Shall we just get all of the apologies and excuses out of the way? I can’t possibly write another exquisite piece knowing all 2 (yes, we lost 2 of you) of our readers would rather stab themselves with dull, diseased envelope openers than see me have the gall to actually blog/write/rant/complain again. In fact, after discussing blog topics with a few trusty friends, I have a pretty strong feeling you’ll all hate me in less than 8 minutes and 2000 words, so who really cares? We move along.
I’ve missed you HTG! To say that I’ve been going through A LOT in the last few months is a major understatement and disservice to my life, but apparently some higher up form decided I paid enough dues in real-estate hell to earn a position at my DREAM COMPANY. I’m sure you all remember Duke’s fabulous announcement a few posts back, congratulating my meager crawl across a now noted plateau in my career history, but this is different. This is major. In fear of divulging too much and the very real possibilities of actually losing said job because of said blog, I will try and remain as anonymous about it as possible- but you should know I’m pretty important now (not like you thought differently before…), and I welcome any and all forms of flattery and bribery.
In addition to my new title of “severely important”, I’m also officially a commuter!! I’ve been in some form of working world since I was 16 and never had to drive more than 20 miles to any job. For a few years there, my commute was 13 miles round trip. I know. I was lucky…and incredibly ungrateful. On a good day (and leaving before 7am…gross…), I’m faced with 40 minutes of concrete, commentary (thank you always, Howard Stern), and cars. On a bad day, it’s 2 hours of planning how quickly I can get out of my car on a moving freeway to gently tap on someone’s window and ask how they became such a shitty driver in a city that doesn’t walk. As horrible as it seems, I truly do find a sense of peace thinking there’s a “we’re all in this together” hidden attitude in each and every car on that freeway. I’ll stop being positive now; my friends say it’s ruining our relationships.
With all this new found time to….be by myself….I’ve started having some profound conversations…with myself. Please note- I’m really not interested in your idea or definition of profound. This is my blog after all.
- If we commuters could all collectively agree to drive a minimum of 40 mph on the freeway between the hours of 7am-9am and 5pm-7pm, we’d all be far less disgruntled and I’d imagine additionally having a generally happier demeanor. What’s most disturbing is that I would assume 75% of drivers on the freeway at those given times are every day users (I mean, only an idiot or tourist would get on an LA freeway before 9am for fun…which is describing pretty much all of LA. Fuck.), which means they have an already decided on ramp and off ramp. Can we all just start pinky swearing to stay in our lanes til appx 2 miles from our exit? Also- sorry trucks, but you’re out of this equation entirely. You are awesome and ohsonecessary for too many reasons to list, but you’re officially not allowed on that freeway between those times either. I can’t tell you how many trucks I’ve been stuck behind IN THE FAST LANE at 8am. No. mas. Profound- right.
- I’m going to start the campaign to turn the 101 into a toll road. I’m positive this will come off as elitist, but this is what happens when you’re stuck in a car for 15 hours a week. Not only will the city benefit from the major influx of funds from said toll, our “thriving” public transportation will pick up and actually become of use to this city. Mass transportation seems to work in every other city besides our own, so why not try to make ours, at the very least, half as good as San Francisco’s (pipe dreams….). Additionally- fewer cars on the freeway, fewer accidents, fewer carbon emissions, less of a need to punch people in the face every time they ask where you commute from…
- Stereotypes are true. Take that statement as you will.
- The lack of windows on a car/truck/van is directly related to the amount of whistles I receive. Apparently, I give off the “PLEASE do me in your creepy vehicle immediately” vibe. Still working on that one… (ps- I really just need to know if that has ever worked. Please, someone just chime in and let me know if you have ever whistled at a girl and she walked over to your car and banged you. I just, I need closure and to know this actually works for me to understand the whistling phenomenon.)
- Speaking of banging, can we just get over Chris Brown being the worst human being alive already? I GET IT. He beat our favorite princess up. He’s already the spokesperson for those needing anger management courses, must we hate him forever (for ev ev ever, for ev ev ever…had to, sorry..)??? Sean Penn laid a few fingers on Madonna and his box office sales didn’t fall- hell he’s friends with Venezuela now (ok maybe this isn’t good). What about Bobby and Whitney (bad example again, Tracy)??? He beat the crap out of Whitney, but New Edition still tours, so I’d assume we got over it. Or the infamous Ike and Tina? Ike died revered as one of the best producers of all time and he beat the absolute SHIT out of Tina FOR YEARS! And lest we forget Mrs. Hilary Clinton. Yep, good ol Hil use to beat up Bill. We never really questioned who wore the pants in that relationship, but clearly- we got over it. Can we all just agree that Chris is kind of a douchebag that makes records I really want to dance to?
Told ya you’d hate me..
Do you know how many times a day I get asked if I have a gun?
Moments ago, our Chief of Compliance walked out of a heated meeting in our Chief of Legal’s office, which just so happens to be right across from my desk. She slammed her papers on my desk, threw her glasses across the room, and asked if I had a gun. I forced a chuckle, gave some kind of witty “OHHHHH It’s THAT kind of day” response, and went back to my important Sarah Palin gchat convo with Duke. A mere 49 seconds later, above mentioned Chief Legal strides out of his office and to my desk- “I just need one bullet, just one.” Um. Excuse me? REAL SHIT, CORPORATE. REAL. SHIT. I understand corporate is brutal, but recently this question has been surfacing more often than “Tracy, where’s the toner?” (same place as it has been since the day we opened up shop folks. The toner has yet to move. The toner will never move. The toner is still in the exact same place as the day you asked a year ago. I still remember this conversation because you then proceeded in asking where the supply room was and I asked if you, as a founding officer of this fine establishment, knew where anything in this office is. You replied with “no”, a hearty laugh, and a swift exit. I digress.) Does corporate really think of guns that often? Are we thisclose to letting the postal office off the hook and coining “going corporate?” Do I get a gun too?
Please?
Speaking of firepower, here’s your fun fact of the day:
Operation Glimmer was a code name used to throw off the dirty Germy’s during WW2.
(Thank you again, Howard Stern and Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Glimmer)
Oh glimmer, how you make my world go round….
In continuing with our efforts to keep this blog going and holding the glimmer in any way, shape, or form – I’m going to clear up some confusion. You see, Duke and I are often asked what exactly it means to “hold the glimmer”. Most of the time, I respond with “How am I supposed to know?” or “Who the fuck are you anyway?” or “Find your own definition, you bastard devil child!” This time is different. I may have an answer and you may have to continue reading to see if this really fleshes out in to a worthy response. Chances are dimmer than a candle during Chanukah, but let’s hold the glimmer (see what I did there.)
The problem with defining hold the glimmer is that it’s a lot like love- everyone has their own interpretation (my love definition comes from Sleepless in Seattle, yours…unclear (and stay tuned for the next blog on how movies ruined my ideals of love, life, friendship, money, …everything.))
A few years ago, I sat down to a regular Sunday night of catching up on important current events and cultural affairs (read- trash TV) before the monotonous work week. As I was perusing the options, the remote got jammed and landed me directly in the middle of Lamar and Khloe’s televised nuptials (slight fabrication, I chose to stop where I did. You see, up to that point, I had yet to watch any Kardashian filth. These Kardashians run amok throughout my town, live directly across the street from my boss who constantly reminds me of their lavish affairs and camera crews, and have yet to do anything of worth outside of beautifying their family for money and seriously awesome threads.) As I watched in awe and dismay, I started realizing the Kardashians are what’s wrong with the world (big statement with no follow up. Sorry.) You know the saying, “The world is your oyster”? Well the oysters are running out. They’re nearly fucking extinct. And it’s the likes of those Kardashians who are ravenously inhaling them; raw, fried, doused in vinaigrette, whatever… Do we finally understand the oyster comments now? OK.
So with the idea that the world is your oyster, comes the fact that you actually have to find your oyster. This is no easy task and I have no advice in how to find said oyster, as I’m currently still figuring this out myself. You’re reading this blog. You get where I am in life. From 9-5, it’s not pretty.
You may have to dig through three hundred shredded paper boxes to find one receipt for your bosses refundable car wash, alphabetically organize your said boss’ preferred hotel choices for when he stays in New York, or merely clean 20 coffee cups a day for the shmucks who left them in the sink and “forgot” to rinse them out the day before. You may get yelled at for stealing toilet paper from the bathrooms because upper management decided they had no interest in further budgeting for your or any of the other two hundred and seventy employees constantly running nose. These instances are all variables, all events that change from day to day and there is really only one way to handle them: hold the glimmer.
Holding the glimmer is keeping the hope that someday, somehow, somewhere, you will find your oyster. Some find immediate relief in drinking, be it at the office (I don’t follow the “it’s 5pm somewhere!” rule. “There’s alcohol somewhere that’s not being consumed” is my rule.) , at a conservative family function when you’re the only one with “liberal” seemingly tattooed to your head, or in your third year of the same class that’s keeping you from your BA. A cup is a cup after all, and your relationship with what’s in that cup is entirely up to you and the cup. Maybe your definition of “hold the glimmer” is laughing at old people when they fall. Falling is funny and age should not be a factor in laughter and entertainment. I don’t judge. I’m the one making paper clip chains, remember? Maybe you’re brand new to the entire concept of hold the glimmer, and your idea consists of inhaling expensive cupcakes, listening to Insane Clown Posse, all while reading our blog. GO CRAZY, you weirdo (but change the fucking station and take off the makeup. You probably look ridiculous. Just sayin…). You do you, and send me a red velvet one if you can. But in the mean time, whichever way you find most effective- hold the glimmer. Hold it tight, hold it close, just hold the glimmer.
Below, you will find proof of Duke and I attempting to bar blog. As he posted before, it was a complete debaucherous mess, ending in aioli on Asians (and multiple other sauces and fried foods), a righteous Friday morning hangover, and no post. Write a comment, Shoot us an email, “like” our facebook fan page, and follow us on twitter @holdtheglimmer and @DukeHTG….because we have feelings too.
Guess who’s who?
Hold the Glimmer 