sobering up on the red line

MORE IDEAS FOR INCREASED WORKPLACE PRODUCTIVITY

2007-10-04T14:34:00.000-05:00

I believe that being allowed to kick anyone who hands out memos with third-grade-level grammatical errors would greatly improve my morale.

ATTENTION WORLD

2007-10-04T14:33:00.000-05:00

Steve Buscemi does not belong in a movie about the Holocaust. Ever.

WORKING ENTIRELY TOO HARD

2007-10-01T16:45:00.000-05:00

Someone told me that there is this thing called the internet that folks use in what is called downtime but I am seriously assuming that this is some sort of office urban legend.

TO TELL OR NOT TO TELL

2007-09-25T08:58:00.000-05:00

My co-worker has one nipple pointing straight up toward the sky like a baby bird seeking sustenance. I tried to alert her to this fact by casting pointed looks in its direction and so far she is not picking up on my girl vibes. I am so bad at coming straight out and saying "HEY YOU GOT SOME NIP THERE" that I wish I could just discreetly pass her a note.

I WILL DO IT I'M NOT KIDDING

2007-09-21T11:07:00.000-05:00

If I have to pass by another "headline" about Lindsey Lohan on what is supposed to be a legitimate news site I am going to drive to Los Angeles and staple her to a bottle of Antabuse.

OVERHEARD ON THE RED LINE THIS MORNING

2007-09-21T10:58:00.000-05:00

"Hey yo, this train smell like SHIT! Or like... some bad queso fundido or something."

If you are going to be that angry guy that yells on the train I think that you should stand your ground or else stop yelling altogether.

2007-09-20T11:55:00.000-05:00

For lunch today I would like to be offered the rest of the day off.

Then I would like a pony.

THINGS I'D LIKE TO SAY BUT NEVER WILL VOL. II

2007-09-20T10:28:00.000-05:00

"God you're TALL. How TALL are you?? You're so TALL. I'll bet you're taller than all the men! Jesus you're TALL."

"My God you are substantially overweight. I never noticed it before but you have seriously got some fucking junk in the trunk there. Also your ears are rather prominent. And did anyone ever tell you that you have a sort of wonky eye? It just sort of zips off to the side without warning, funny how it does that. But yes, I am tall, freakishly tall. Thank you for pointing that out."

"Miller, could you-"

"NO. Take that fucking paperwork and shove it up your fat fucking ass."

"Excuse m-"

"LALALALALALALALA-"

"You're fi-"

"EAT ME, you bottom-feeding bald loser."

Am I having a rough day a work? You could say that.

ROCK THAT JUKEBOX

2007-09-20T09:21:00.000-05:00

For some reason this morning I am thinking about the jukebox at Simon's in Andersonville which is a supreme little dive if ever there was. Great selection, good tunes.

I don't even live near there and I've only even been there a scant few times but the powers that be have made me so hungry for a decent tune by playing their crappy seventies elevator music that I've started to become a little dazed and disoriented.

I think it should be Punk Rock Thursday and that we should all get down to some nasty nasty headbanging in our respective offices. Or how about Gangsta Rap Friday tomorrow? I have a couple of NWA albums that are just itching to get some play.

I would singlehandedly slay an entire department full of middle management with a Swingline stapler for an office jukebox.

You would not even have to ask me twice.

ROLL OUT THE RED COASTERS

2007-09-19T14:07:00.000-05:00

I am back. I am well aware that I was sorely missed and that much weeping and rending of garments has been going on in my absence, so please feel free to direct all glory, laud, and Paypal monies to the comments which may or may not be working. I have no idea what the protocol is for long-missing bloggers.

During my hiatus I have been doing the usual which is toiling away for the powers that be, going to a lot of rock shows, shaking my fist in anger in regards to the unrighteousness of The Man. I have also been drinking a lot of beer, never fear.

I am dating someone whom I loathe the idea of giving a clever blog nickname to although I suppose I must be all stealth and protect my super secret identity, so let us call him Joe. Joe is good so far but so are all men until they morph into their true freakish subversive sloppy mother-obsessive selves.

I am only joking.

I think.

Anyway I am glad to be back and I hope to dazzle you all with my brilliance and beer breath more frequently.

All two of you.

AND ONE MORE THING

2005-08-15T15:13:00.000-05:00

Usually when men yell things at women on the street it is something to the tune of "Yow" or "Hey Baby" or the ever-popular "Woo".

However today I came across a young man who wanted me to know exactly what he was cat-calling about in great detail.

"Hey!" he screamed, "Your ass looks really hot in that dress!!"

What else could I do but yell "thank you" back?

WHAT A KROC

2005-08-15T15:05:00.000-05:00

Hey, did you know McDonald's is HEALTHY now?

It's true, because they have a FRUIT AND WALNUT SALAD. With YOGURT. And all those things are HEALTHY.

And damned if they haven't plastered cutesy little artfully arranged pictures of their damned apple slices and sugar-coated walnuts all over EVERY AVAILABLE SURFACE IN THE CITY OF CHICAGO, because THEY WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT THEY CARE ABOUT YOUR FUCKING ARTERIES.

Go ahead and suck down some fries and a Big Mac while you're at it, because you're going to be eating fruit, and that's totally healthy.

If I see one more picture of that "salad" I may just shove a Granny Smith right up Ronald McDonald's wazoo.

I'M MELTINGGGGGG

2005-07-05T10:57:00.000-05:00

It's sticky disgustingly hot and I would really be amped if the powers that be would change the dress code here to include flip-flops and shorts.

We could be just like an Old Navy commercial! Think of the morale boost! Before you know it we simple office grunts would be dancing to old Motown hits and smiling cheesily for all and sundry.

Iced coffee drinks for all would be a nice way for the Bossman to say that he cares, too, since obviously he is too cheap to turn the fucking air conditioner up to a reasonable level. Right now everyone is pretty crabby but I think that if one stuck a Dunk-a-Moch-a-ccino in everyone's face, things would improve rapidly.

I am such a great idea woman and am absolutely fucking wasted in my current position.

MY GOD I AM A SLACKER

2005-06-28T13:00:00.000-05:00

So. I am really inept at this whole "updating the blog" thing that seems to come so easily to my prolific friends.

Why? Well I would like to say that it is because I am simply too busy having mad passionate sex to bother turning on the computer box, or that I have been running marathons, plotting to overthrow the current lack of government, or something equally scintillating.

The fact is that none of these things are true and I just have been doing a lot of working, a lot of going out with the friends, and a lot of swearing regarding the huge influx of tourist-type people that have flooded my dear city.

I hate the Taste of Chicago. There, I said it. It is ri-damn-diculous to pay good money for all those tickets. I like to go and see the bands, but I hate the throngs of silly people wearing far far too little clothing on far far too much body - people who have apparently grown up with no knowledge of that wonderful thing called deodorant.

One thing I do like are those ridiculously sweet Mai Tais because let's face it, there is really nothing quite like schlepping around with a sugary alcoholic monstrosity in the summertime, but in line I am always stuck behind three thousand people from WisCahhhnsin who are dripping sweat and barbeque sauce and a mighty mighty stench and it scares me quite deeply.

And how is your summer?

THERE WAS NO WARNING

2005-03-15T14:32:00.000-06:00

I ate guacamole tacos for lunch - so good, so tasty.

They were a bit spicy but I really didn't think much of that fact until I had to go and ask the big bossman for some petty cash.

As I leaned over his large grownup toy cluttered desk to sign the form something did not feel right and suddenly the loudest belch ever to come from my stomach came screaming forth and flew right into the face of my employer.

No hole opened up in the floor to swallow me and save me from the worst embarrassment of my life so I was forced to shriek EXCUSE ME and run back into my office as he laughed his ass off like the mean mean man that he is.

I am never coming out of here. Never.

I WOULD LIKE A SAMUEL JACKSON, PLEASE

2005-02-24T20:41:00.000-06:00

I will never understand beer snobs. This seems to be a trait that is limited to the bepenised, as I don't often hear the ladies complaining about lack of flavor and chutzpah in a brew nor do I forsee Muffy in the office down the hall opening her own little microbrewery in her little Lincoln Park habitrail.

I do have my limits and would never drink Strohs out of the can but I don't see the point in paying five dollah for some fancy-dancy German beer when this country makes a damned fine product for which this humble blog is named.

Pale ale, special dark brew, founder's island ancient lager, it's all the same bitter-tasting overpriced yuppie crap to me.

THAT POPE IS ONE TOUGH MF'ER

2005-02-24T20:39:00.000-06:00

Popes seem to hang in there longer than most old people.

I wonder if this is because they have curried favor with the Big Cheese or whether they are dipping into the holy water on the sly.

Wouldn't you?

I THINK I MIGHT HAVE A QUARTER

2005-02-15T11:18:00.000-06:00

President Bush would like another 81.9 billion dollars to fund troops overseas.

81.9 billion dollars.

I think I might be willing to donate two thirds of my salary toward that figure and hell I would even vote Republican if Bush would beg Congress for even half that amount for something like say, AIDS and cancer research, better public schools, decent government funded healthcare for those who need it.

Instead your and my tax dollars are going marching to war like good little soldiers. Pony up.

HANGOVER WEDNESDAY

2005-02-09T11:22:00.000-06:00

I am not a Catholic but the practice of going out and consuming mass quantities of beer is something I consider to be a darn good precursor to a religious holiday.

Therefore I joined my soon-to-be-abstinent Catholic friends for a Fat Tuesday pub crawl and wound up covered in Mardi Gras beads and overloaded with giant two-liter plastic tankards of cheap beer.

Today I am feeling as if an entire church full of Catholics has congregated in my head and is singing GLORY IN EXCELSIS DEEEO. MILLER YOU ARE NOT SO SMAAART-O. NEXT TIME SAVE IT FOR THE WEEEEEKEND.

IN TODAY'S NEWS

2005-02-08T09:42:00.000-06:00

In today's headlines I see that juice is now considered bad for children and will make them obese. Hi-C and Kool-Aid are also culprits. I can't say that I am surprised about the latter given that its spokesperson is certainly no skinny minnie.

Apparently the only solution for parents is to feed children a steady diet of cardboard and crack cocaine so as to avoid having a fat kid, because nobody loves a fat kid.

WAIT IS THIS TIGER BEAT?

2005-02-07T20:41:00.000-06:00

OK. I will admit that I occasionally used to give half a crap about the lives of actors and actresses whose work I found interesting and would occasionally read rags such as People, US Weekly, and the like.

However I find that the tide has changed and I am now supposed to be interested in half-retarded coked up teenagers like the Olson twins, Lindsay Lohan, and Hillary Duff. I have never seen a movie featuring any of these little tartlets nor would I.

I could create a similar actress by pulling some hair out of my hairbrush, stuffing some toddler clothes with water balloons, and throwing in a Teddy Ruxpin voice box.

Come on, news media. Get your poop straight. The only people that really give a damn about these tots are young boys, older boys who have serious issues, older men who are taking far too much Viagra, and sadly disillusioned ladies who are desperately trying to look like the girls in order to impress all of the aforementioned boys.

It is a sad sad state of affairs when kids featured on the Disney channel are hogging all the press.

SHEEP FEET

2005-02-07T19:49:00.000-06:00

Personally I don't care whether your Ugg boots are lined with fleece, mink, Tempurpedic Space-age NASA wonder shit, Dick Clark's collagen, or Pamela Anderson's used breast implants.

I don't care whether they are the most comfortable things you have ever owned, whether they have changed your life and made you find Jaaaay-sus, or whether you feel like you are walking on sunshine.

They are STILL UGLY. Do you hear me? They are STILL MOTHERFUCKING UGLY.

If you own them in pink, then they're stupid and ugly.

This has been a public service announcement from Miller, reminding you that cold weather is no excuse for dumb-ass shoes.

GUESS WHO'S BACK, BACK AGAIN.

2005-02-07T19:41:00.000-06:00

Well hot damn it has been a while. I would very much like to come up with some madcap exciting reason why I have been so remiss in my blogging but the truth is both simple and stupid:

I forgot my password.

That's right folks, Miller is absent-minded and was too proud to ask Blogger for the damn thing until the urge became overwhelming MUST BLOG OH GOD MUST BLOG.

So here I am again, ready to regale my three readers with tales of life in the big city. I hope you have been well. I notice that the fine comments people have deleted most of my comments and for that I would like to flip them the bird.

HEADS WILL ROLL

2004-06-23T10:12:00.000-05:00

I am no longer surprised by the daily beheading when I turn on the computer and check out my internet news page.

It's sad to me that this is going to be yet another milestone of the current generation of school children: drug-sniffing dogs, bomb threats, metal detectors in schools, school shootings, crack cocaine on the playgrounds, and now daily beheadings for them to read about on the internet.

People wonder why today's youth are so fucking rotten, but to me this isn't much of a mystery. When I was eleven I think my biggest worry was whether people would laugh at my glasses or whether I'd get a good grade on my science project.

I doubt today's kids sleep as well as I used to.

WEEEEEEKEND.

2004-06-18T09:37:00.000-05:00

The weekend cannot arrive fast enough. I would like extra weekend with my summer please, plus a side of handsome man and a few extra packets of sunshine. If you don't give me a receipt then my summer should be free and I should get to go to all the shows I want and sit in the front row without paying.

THE SECRET LIFE OF MILLER

2004-06-09T18:22:00.000-05:00

Where have I been? I have been doing the usual which is having tea with the queen (any old queen will do) and jet-setting around Europe and dancing on tables with young hotel heiresses. I have very much enjoyed tossing my hair back in a fetching fashion, drinking expensive martinis, and laughing like a very rich and very fake person. Hah-hah-hah-hah! Try it - you will enjoy it, too.

Or I may have been working like a dog and drinking a whole lot of shitty coffee while inwardly wishing that my boss would get testicular cancer and spontaneously combust at the same time.

I think it's much more fun if you guess.

2004-05-24T10:17:00.000-05:00

Call me an asshole but I do find it very funny that the soccer moms and pimp daddies that were once riding very high in the BMW SUVS and tricked-out Escalades are now the very same people who are getting extremely stompy and nasty at the gas station.

"I can't fuckin' believe it costs this goddamn much for gas."
"I have to commute over a hundred miles."
"This is getting ridiculous. It costs me forty damn dollars to fill my tank."

Daddy's little status symbol is not looking quite so pretty and shiny in the face of mean and icky gas prices.

Somehow I'll bet certain people find Chicago public transportation just a smidge more appealing these days.

WE GOTS PRIORITIES

2004-05-13T16:03:00.000-05:00

This pretty much sums up most of the reasons I often lay my forehead down against the table after reading the morning paper and remind myself to breathe in and breathe out, breathe in and breathe out.

Thank you Lauriean.

STEPFORD COVERGIRLS

2004-05-11T17:06:00.000-05:00

Is it just me or would you also like to kick the easy breezy beautiful beachdancing cover girls in the teeth?

Except for Latifah, but I would like to smack her very soundly about the face and ask her just what the hell she is doing being easy and breezy when she is much too cool for that kind of thing.

MISS RUMSFELD LITE

2004-05-11T14:34:00.000-05:00

Blogger has sort of fucked up my world by changing their little page because now it looks like AOL and I am so confused. I do not handle change well and do not appreciate this at all and even though it is free I would like to file a complaint with the management, stat.

In less anal-retentive world news I am sick of hearing about Donald Rumsfeld but have decided that Rumsfeld would be a great name for a beer. "I'd like a Rumsfeld, please." It just rolls off the tongue very nicely. Perhaps he should consider this after his political career is over since that moment seems to be approaching rather rapidly.

HER NAME WAS MILLER, SHE WAS A SHOWGIRL

2004-05-10T13:45:00.000-05:00

As you should be able to tell from the title of this blog I am a fan of the lite beer and am not one for the hard stuff. It makes my stomach feel yucky and I really don't like the idea of waking up next to someone named Jean-Marc with a shiny shirt draped over my head, or some other such horror.

However I unfortunately allowed myself to be talked into a few shots of the fire water at a club this weekend by a friend who will soon take the plunge into matrimony. Since I assume she will never again be seen with the likes of heathenish unmarried non-china-owning me, I acquiesced.

Fast-forward a couple of hours and there I was, dancing on top of a bar. I am also told that there was singing. I remember none of this. The only part of the evening I remember quite clearly is coming home and wondering when my ceiling had become round.

I came home with a lot of dollar bills that night and can only hope that they were not shoved into the waistband of my underwear.

SO THERE SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

2004-05-06T14:24:00.000-05:00

If one more person slumps into this office and moans "Oh, it's tooooo hot..." they are going to get a swift sandal to the skull because damn it we have been waiting weeks and weeks for the weather to get warm and when it finally does people have to start complaining about that, too.

You just cannot make Chicagoans happy no matter how hard you try. If it is hot we want it cool and if it's cold we want it warm and for Chrissakes you'd think that people would get it through their thick heads that there is no such damn thing as a perfect sixty-eight degree day in this city.

It's part of our charm. We are moody and unpredictable and sassy and tempermental and who likes bland-ass boring people anyway? Take your sixty-eight degree weather and stick it up your ass right along with your people who take Prozac and speak in one-word sentences and listen to blah blah boring Lite FM and drink only one glass of wine for fear of getting tipsy and match all the fucking time like some Burberry ad.

blah blah blah blah BORING.

RAISED STAKES

2004-05-05T10:10:00.000-05:00

I called my mother to find out what she wanted for mother's day and she replied, "an ottoman".

An ottoman?

How I long for the simple days of youth in which she was thrilled to tears with stupid plaster handprints and watercolor paintings of her and I with two pieces of hair between us and big red lips.

FILE THIS UNDER WHAT THE FUCK

2004-05-05T10:05:00.000-05:00

I swear to God some random sweet-faced elderly woman just came up to my desk and said, "Dear, would you like a cookie?"

I looked down at her paper plate and she had the sort of cookies grandmothers always have - the ones shaped like windmills that taste like gingerbread and are as hard as bricks.

She doesn't work in this office and I have no idea where she came from.

If this is a new idea to boost office morale I am all for it. An office cookie grandma might be just what we need around here.

WE HAVE SECRETLY REPLACED THIS SLUDGE...

2004-05-04T14:11:00.000-05:00

Truth be told I am sick to death of the swill they call coffee in this joint so I purchased a bag of actual beans along with an actual grinder and came to work prepared to grind my own coffee.

I am more than willing to be the coffee grunt if it means I can have good coffee and I know damn well that my eighty dollar tie wearing boss can afford to shell out for the good stuff.

I tossed some beans in the contraption and as it began to whir every single employee came rushing out of their respective offices to see what the hell that crazy Miller was doing as if I was grinding the boss's fingers for a witch's brew.

My boss was not far behind, and soon the entire clan was looking on in awe as I made REAL COFFEE and wow can you believe it? Have you ever seen anything like it? That Miller is a FIREBALL, she is! People gathered around with their little cups and looked as excited as children at a snow cone cart.

Suddenly I realized I was on the fast track to promotion! My innovative beverage ideas would no doubt stick in the heads of the highers-up and my name would be tossed around conference tables like a hackysack. I was a free thinker and a woman of action and surely deserved a fifty thousand dollar raise.

I was already planning what kind of furniture I would order for my corner office when my boss pulled me aside and said, "Miller, next time get the pre-ground stuff because I think the grinder is very distracting to the employees."

There was also absolutely no mention of repayment for the pricey Starbux beans so I think my days as a coffee vigilante are over.

Foiled again.

SUPERMILLER

2004-05-03T10:21:00.000-05:00

Amazingly enough I have actually been working, as has no doubt astonished both my employer and coworkers to no end.

It occasionally occurs to me as I watch friends and family get outsourced and downsized and assfucked that I may indeed be lucky to actually have a job during these turbulent times and that perhaps I should expend some effort or at least appear to be doing so.

This lasted for about a week but thankfully I am back to my old slackhappy self, and thank goodness for that.

While meandering to and fro at a local watering hole this weekend I spotted several young men sporting haircuts that can only be described as mullets. The type of guy I'm talking about is the type that makes a killing writing software for Macintosh but still shops at thrift stores so as to appear rumpled and hip. His Chuck Taylors are ratty and his jeans are unwashed. He does not own any album that has been produced by a major record label and considers this to be a badge of honor.

I am not down with this look or the inexplicable fear of money that lies behind it but I suppose it can be excused if the edge is taken off with a decent haircut. However I believe that there is no excuse for a mullet. None.

I would love to walk the streets of Chicago dressed in black leotards and a ski mask, brandishing a pair of scissors. I would attack unsuspecting men with ponytails, braids, rattails (horror), hippie hair, and mullets; and then I would leave them my calling card, a small black business card with bright gold lettering that would read "YOU HAVE JUST BEEN CLIPPED BY MILLER THE MULLET MURDERESS. DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN, BECAUSE NEXT TIME IT WON'T JUST BE THE HAIR."

I think the women in this town would erect a statue in my honor.

HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY

2004-04-20T12:30:00.000-05:00

Eminem's mom was carjacked.

It probably doesn't say much for my moral fiber that I giggled my unholy ass off when I read this useless tidbit of "entertainment news", but I did.

I just imagined some poor whitetrash kid in his flannel and his doo rag thinking how proud old Em was going to be when he smacked up that pill-popping bitch of a mom of his.

Then I laughed. I laughed at Eminem's mama's bad eighties hair, I laughed at Eminem in general, I laughed at the foibles of most criminal rappers including Lil' Kim, I laughed when I remembered Diana Ross grabbing Lil' Kim's boob during the Grammys that one year, and I will probably still be laughing when I leave work today.

Thank God for useless entertainment news. If I had to rely on real news I would not be such a buoyant and pleasant person.

NEW HOLIDAY ALERT

2004-04-19T14:04:00.000-05:00

I have an unquenchable urge to rush out of this office and run wildly down the street, arms flailing.

I may plan an event for next Monday. I will call it Take Back The Day. All downtrodden office people will leave their cubes and corners at precisely nine-thirty, toss their jackets aside, and dance through the streets of Chicago gleefully while singing and drinking beer. It will be like St. Patrick's Day for the non-Irish.

Let me know if you're interested. Maybe we can form a conga line down Michigan Avenue or something.

MY KINGDOM FOR SOME SMOOTH MOVES

2004-04-15T12:57:00.000-05:00

This guy that lunches at Jimmy Johns at the same time I do is so unbelievably fine that I just can't stand it. He wears sharp suits with very styling shoes, his hair is always perfect, and to the best of my knowledge he is not a homosexual.

He drinks Pepsi and eats Doritos and is most decidedly not a vegetarian but none of this matters to me because he has beautiful eyes and such perfect teeth that I wonder if he has DaVinci veneers like those people on Extreme Makeover.

I find it hard to refrain from staring at him like some ignorant little fourteen year old girl who is in the throes of a crush on some N-Sync lookalike. I want to run up and attack him like Pepe LePew with appropriate kissy noises.

There is no protocol I can follow in this situation. I cannot approach a man who has his hand in his Dorito bag and say, "Excuse me my name is Miller and I have been admiring you whilst eating my veggie sandwich for several weeks now. I know you don't know me from a hole in the ground but do you think that we could possibly merge our respective Jimmy John's experiences?" I would turn several shades of crimson before running out the door, after which I would bang my head repeatedly into a parking meter.

I wish I was suave. I really, really do.

QUOTABLE BUSH

2004-04-13T20:21:00.000-05:00

"Nobody wants to see dead people on their television screens."

Apparently George W. does not check his movie listings very often. Hellboy? The Passion Of Christ? Dawn of the Dead?

People love that shit.

WELCOME TO FIELDS, MAY I DESTROY YOU?

2004-04-13T14:31:00.000-05:00

I went to the Marshall Fields MAC counter in hopes of finding some kicky red lipstick and noticed that the saleswhore was giving me a bit of a stinky look.

I gave her a look letting her know that I knew she was giving me a stinky look and inquiring why she was giving me a stinky look and she asked me whether I used any undereye "treatment". I don't.

She then held up a magnifying mirror in order to show me the error of my ways and show me my saggy baggy eyes. Now my eyes don't really look all that bad in a normal mirror but this goddamn mirror made me look like Blanche from the fucking Golden Girls. I wanted to lay my head down on the glass countertop and cry.

She also informed me that I shouldn't wear any dark lipstick because it drew attention to my "undereye circles".

After she was through working me over I ran to the Starbux and inhaled a sugary coffee because I needed anything to make me feel warm and young again.

Bitch. May she make minimum wage forever more. I am thirty and I don't look half bad and I'll be damned if I will let some little twenty year old heifer with garish eyeshadow tell me that I look old because she wants me to buy some expensive eye cream made from mineral water and frog semen.

OK...

2004-04-13T14:20:00.000-05:00

I don't quite understand why Bob Dylan is in the Victoria's Secret commercial.

I mean I understand it from the Dylan point of view because it certainly can't hurt him to have his giant head floating next to an underfed supermodel, but is it good for the supermodel?

And while we're at it, what is up with that tiny little Craig David goatee that Dylan has going on? It looks weird.

I think he should float his giant head into another commercial that would suit him better like maybe Cadillac or GapOld or Fender HippieCaster.

OH TO BE RICH

2004-04-08T14:19:00.000-05:00

I was checking out some handbags on Ebay today (during my lunch break of course, because I would never never never surf ebay on company time) because I am a Bag Addict, and I came across a Hermes (Ermezzzzz) bag that could have been mine for the low low price of twenty-six thousand dollars.

Think about that for a second. Twenty-six thousand dollars.

I cannot even imagine what it must be like to have twenty-six thousand dollars all in one place, ready to pay off my student loans or purchase a nice vehicle. To spend twenty-six thousand dollars on a somewhat ugly black crocodile bag is just sick and wrong.

And if one had twenty-six thousand dollars to spend on a bag, would one buy it on Ebay? I don't think I would feel very comfortable throwing down that kind of coin online.

I often wonder what it must be like to be sickeningly rich. I think I'd get used to it really quickly. I wouldn't stick to my humble roots and keep getting my herrr did by the same girl. I'd start going to a salon with people named Muffy and Binky and I'd have pedicures while discussing the latest offerings of Prada and Dior.

I would buy really swanky wine and pretend that I knew something about it. I might even stop drinking cheap beer and change the name of this site to "sobering up in the back of my Rolls".

I would move to the Gold Coast where even the homeless people have Gucci shoes and I would have really kickass dinner parties with live entertainment and hot waiters and food that I couldn't pronounce correctly.

Sigh.

No one has bid on the Hermes bag, so I guess I'm not alone.

THE SEXLESS CITY

2004-04-08T11:17:00.000-05:00

I have recently discovered Sex and the City and I am smitten. I haven't seen women talk so frankly and obsessively about sex since I was a clubrat in my early twenties. I find it refreshing. My friends never talk about sex anymore since most of them are married or trying desperately to be married and this makes our conversations about men desperately dull. God knows I'm not having any sex.

I miss talking about the guy with the crooked dick or the guy that made me have seven orgasms in a row.

I miss sleeping with that last guy, too, come to think of it.

NOW PLAYING

2004-04-06T11:13:00.000-05:00

Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" has been going through my head all day.

Help.

I LONG FOR THE SIMPLE PAST

2004-04-05T15:28:00.000-05:00

Ten trends or otherwise popular phenomena I really don't understand.

10. Norah Jones. Am I missing something here? I think she is OK but not the soul-blowing amazement that she is touted as.
9. Outkast. Outkast are really, really fun and I own their album. But album of the year? Come on.
8. The resurgence of Dr. Scholls. They are ugly and made of wood. Shoes that are ugly and made of wood have no business coming back into style unless one lives in rural Holland.
7. Three-minute ring tones. I don't think I need to explain that.
6. The "metrosexual". I am all for men discovering that hygiene is a good thing, but if you spend more time on your hair than I do we will have a problem.
5. Survivor. Can someone tell me what the appeal is? I watched it once and was bored to tears.
4. Kids' shoes with no laces. I never see kids with laces anymore. Are we as a society so busy that we can't teach kids to tie their shoes?
3. Low-carb craziness. Every aisle at the Jewel is punctuated with several hundred low-carb products. The carb is not evil. The idea that one can eat twenty pounds of food per day is evil.
2. Rotten-ass kids. Have you noticed that kids today (oh yes, I am thirty) have no fucking manners at all and don't even pretend to? In my day at least we pretended until adults were out of earshot.
1. Fake titties with no shame. Not only are many women getting fake breasts, but they are not even attempting to hide the fact that they are fake. I have had at least three people in my office ask if I wanted to cop a feel. They're like an accessory to these women.

Again I am certainly not the most with-it person in the city of Chicago but I like to think that I am at least partially hip. Still, these things elude me.

CALGON TAKE ME AWAY

2004-04-05T15:24:00.000-05:00

I am starting to have the very worst vacation jones I've ever had in my life.

I'm sure this in no way coincides with the fact that my company has hired a new person who has the most obnoxious laugh in history.

It's like this: "HRUH HRUH HRUH HRAAAH!"

How close is this individual to my desk? Guess.

WATCHING TOO MUCH TV

2004-04-01T16:09:00.000-06:00

My boss asked me whether I could stay late tonight, and I widened my eyes before screaming, "STAY? What do you mean STAY? What's going on?? What aren't you telling us??? I can't stay here! My wife is a week overdue! What's happening??"

I guess my boss doesn't watch 24. He didn't get it.

If you don't watch 24, you didn't get it either.

HOMEY HAD THE FLY PINK KICKS

2004-04-01T12:20:00.000-06:00

True story. In Merrilville, Indiana the public high school has banned the color pink. Apparently too many students were rocking the rosy threads and the administration assumed that pink was the hot new gang color rather than the hot new trend.

Somehow I just don't see a gang of street thugs wearing pink satin jackets unless they are of the drag queen persuasion.

A gang of bitter drag queens would be wonderful, I think. It would be worth getting mugged for.

"Honey give me that tacky wallet and while you're at it I'd like that lip gloss, too."

That would be great. A bunch of little drag queens in their platform heels and bouffant hairdos, trolling the city for money so that they can have their nails done and maintain control over Boystown.

Perhaps Indiana street thugs are a different breed and are more fashion conscious, but I find it hard to believe that most gangbangers are reading Vogue while planning their evil deeds.

"Yo, blood, check out this fly Galliano shit!"
"Daaaamn. You know I need me some new Kate Spade in which to put my gat."
"On the real - these pants make my ass look fat?"
"That's "phat" with a P, my brotha."
"Word."

Do people still say "word"? Probably not. I fear I may be out of the loop.

BOOK WITH SLIGHTLY TORN COVER

2004-04-01T12:08:00.000-06:00

I am one of those crazy homeless people/drunk magnets. The crazy homeless drunk people love me like they love the Boone's Farm. This makes for interesting experiences on the public transportation tip, but I don't mind as long as I'm not being flashed or groped.

I had a conversation this morning on the train that was atypical of my usual crazy people exchange, though, and I would like to share it. A man sat down next to me on the red line and bore all the marks of a train crazy or a drunk - dirty coat, Kramer-esque hair, slightly dazed look.

Crazy Guy: "Hey there."
Miller: "Hey."
Crazy Guy: "How you doin'?"
Miller: "Good."
Crazy Guy: "Whatcha readin'?"
Miller: "David Sedaris."
Crazy Guy: "Isn't he great?? I think he's so great. I rarely get a chance to read much, but I think he's so great."

We chatted for a few more minutes, and I found out that the guy was a doctor. Underneath that scruffy exterior was a guy that went to college for at least eight years.

Never underestimate the crazy homeless people. They might not be so crazy after all.

TOP TEN THINGS I WOULD DO IF I WANTED TO GET FIRED

2004-03-31T13:26:00.000-06:00

10. Call my boss "Poopie".
9. Hurl a stapler at the next person who asks me to unjam the fax machine.
8. Write "For a good time call Boss at Boss's Number" all over the bathroom walls.
7. Bring a backpack and empty the office supply cabinet into it.
6. Stand on my desk and perform an elaborate strip tease.
5. Bring in an NWA album and play it at top volume.
4. Kick someone just for the hell of it.
3. Call the corporate office and imply that our branch is a thinly veiled house of prostitution.
2. Put Pop Rocks in the coffee pot.
1. Glue everything in my boss's office to the desk.

SOMEBODY FARTED, WHOA-OH-OH

2004-03-30T16:04:00.000-06:00

Some rude classless motherfucker just walked right past my desk, farted, and didn't even apologize. I know he was aware of it, yet he didn't even have the good grace to say "sorry Miller, I had some harsh refritos at lunch".

I'm sorry but that just tells me you're a mannerless jackass that grew up in a trailer and ate corn pops for dinner while watching Jerry Springer reruns and picking between your toes with a fork.

We all have bad gastrointestinal moments but Jesus Christ you could at least look guilty after encasing my desk in a fart cloud.

SHE'S NOT NICE

2004-03-30T14:47:00.000-06:00

It must really suck to be in politics and have a name like Condoleeza Rice. It's too easy. It rhymes with Jesus Christ, cheese and rice, knees in vice, screaming mice, please no dice, queasy lice, peas suffice, Riesling heist, fleas had twice, and seas suffice. And kid over age three can have a really fun day making up fun limericks about Ms. Rice.

I feel bad for old Leeza because she could not possibly be an easier target, and if the name wasn't bad enough the pictures of her all over internetland definitely are. She looks like a woman who is either preparing to rip off a mask and expose her inner alien or kick your grandmother in the teeth.

I AM CHANNELING STEVIE WONDER

2004-03-30T14:38:00.000-06:00

I think that I have a very rare form of something that is half Tourette's Syndrome and half epilepsy. I was standing at the copy machine and suddenly I started to sing Boogie On Reggae Woman while shaking my ass in what I can only assume was a ridiculous fashion.

This happens to me all the time. For some reason a song pops into my head and instead of mumbling the lyrics to myself like a normal person I feel compelled to dance like I'm on Solid Gold - The Crackhead Edition and sing like I'm on Talentless Dipshits Of American Idol Part XI.

Stevie is present quite often during these fits, and so are Marvin Gaye, They Might Be Giants, Depeche Mode, and the Rolling Stones. In my mind I am having a little Miller (pun not intended but actually quite funny now that I think about it) concert in which all of my musician friends are cheering me on and tossing roses at my feet.

I'm guessing I should probably seek treatment for this mysterious malady, but it's the only fun part of my workday and I'd hate to let it go.

I DON'T RECYCLE

2004-03-29T13:24:00.000-06:00

Riddle me this. Why is it the second I completely forget about someone I used to date (and by that I mean literally forget his very existence) always happens to be the exact same moment that said person decides to call me?

Do men plan this? How do they know the exact second that they've been Windexed from your mind?

This is the kind of frustrating man-trait that makes me wish very strongly that I could be a lesbian. Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think that women don't do that kind of thing. Women can be difficult and bitchy and demanding and hard to read but we do not have mad psychic powers that enable us to resurrect old flings.

It mystifies me.

What mystified me even more was the fact that he opened the conversation with "Hi." as if we never spent a day apart.

As always, I remembered to take a deep breath and repeat "I will not date an ex, I will not date an ex" four hundred times before agreeing to speak to him.

THE GIRL DONE WENT AND GOT A LIFE

2004-03-27T19:13:00.000-06:00

I'm astonished by the fact that I was too busy to blog this week. Feel free to gasp with collective shock.

I have been a dutiful little office grunt and have been limiting my time on the internet, partially because I fear my activities are being regarded with suspicion.

So if my boss is reading this I would like him to know that I love my job and consider my position as a cog in the corporate machine to be the most fulfilling facet of my life.

Sure.

Saturday night beckons and I am so so ready for it. Come to me Saturday. Wrap me up in your trendy black-clad arms and make me your bitch.

THE SECRET LIFE OF MILLER

2004-03-24T12:05:00.000-06:00

When I'm at work I like to fantasize that Donald Trump is going to burst in the door and say, "Young lady, you are far too brilliant and talented to be working in this dump!"

And then The Donald will whisk me away in his helicopter to my own beautiful corner office that is composed entirely of glass and marble. Once there I will write brilliant copy and occasionally sign reports while listening to some smooth music on my 942-disc CD changer with those cute little Bose speakers coming out of every wall.

Then I wake up and some schmuck is asking me where the coffee filters are located, and I want to scream "DON'T YOU KNOW THAT I SHOULD BE WORKING FOR DONALD TRUMP RIGHT NOW?? GET OUT OF MY FACE YOU INBRED MINDLESS LACKEY!!".

I'm glad that no one in my office is a mind reader.

THE YOUNG AND THE CAR-LESS

2004-03-23T11:07:00.000-06:00

I love to watch people on the train and imagine what they are like but every now and then I catch myself wondering if people are making up little mind-stories about me, which freaks me out.

Like the woman in the really jazzy suit that doesn't wear sneakers or boots in spite of the cold and who has the nicest laptop I've ever seen? She is the head of Chicago's underground version of Clone-Aid.

The guy who's asleep with his head bent into an uncomfortable position? He's really not sleeping. He's a secret undercover agent who is scouting the El for drug dealers, and under his jacket is an arsenal of high-tech weapons and secret spy cameras.

Maybe I look like a dashing young artist that is creating amazing things in my beautiful Bucktown loft.

Or maybe I look like a dangerous femme fatale who is seducing the head of a multi-million dollar corporation.

Or maybe I look like someone who sits at a desk all day and types and blogs and drinks too much coffee.

I like to think that I look more exciting than that so I think I will start giving people sly glances while riding the train home.

MORE MOVIE NEWS

2004-03-22T11:00:00.000-06:00

I just read that Joaquin (WHA-quin!) Phoenix will play Johnny Cash in an upcoming movie about the life of The Man In Black.

So please disregard the previous post because Joaquin (WHA-quin!)'s pretty face and Johnny Cash's music will make for an awesome awesome movie that would definitely beat out Christian zombies.

I have seen the ads for Tom Hanks's new movie and have noticed that he really looks like crap. He seems to have aged about twenty years in the past two months.

Not that this matters because we all know that men can look as old and crusty as they like in Hollywood while women must liposuck and Botox and collagen themselves into staring freaks.

ONWARD CHRISTIAN ZOMBIES

2004-03-22T10:55:00.000-06:00

It would be pretty damned funny if Dawn Of The Dead and The Passion Of Christ were shown at the Brew 'n' View as a double feature.

I don't think anything could top Jesus, zombies, and beer for a truly well-rounded and fun-filled evening.

"Peter, you have betrayed me."
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! BRAINS!!!"

It is very obvious that I have not had enough coffee this morning.

WHIRLED PEAS

2004-03-18T10:54:00.000-06:00

I would really really love it if just once I could pick up the morning paper and not not see the words "bomb" "dead" "terror" or "crash" glaring up at me from the front page.

If you could go back in time and give some guy from a few hundred years ago the newspaper they would think it was the most horrific science fiction imaginable.

And they would be right.

AVALANCHE

2004-03-17T09:12:00.000-06:00

I absolutely cannot look at another flake of snow. It is March. I am done with the snow. I can almost feel the roof caving in with every small flurry that hits the window.

Drunks should be able to celebrate the great drunken holiday without having to worry about freezing to death.

PRIORITIES

2004-03-16T10:12:00.000-06:00

I think it's fucking great that so many scientists are working to solve male pattern baldness and sexual dysfunction.

I mean screw AIDS and cancer - there are loads of rich white men that need twentyfour hour erections and thick shiny hair.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

2004-03-14T18:09:00.000-06:00

Dear very cute man at very Irish bar,

You were checking me out. I saw you. I was staring at you too and I know you saw me. You smiled several times and so did I. Neither of us was bold enough to make a move but I must say that I thought you were incredibly dazzling and your jawline was enough to make me sweat just a little bit.

I wish you had approached me with some casual line like "hey nice shirt" or "would you like another beer?" but you didn't, and I guess I can't blame you there because I didn't either.

At any rate you gave me a warm glow that has lasted and for that I'm grateful.

Love,

Miller

FRIDAYFRIDAYFRIDAYFRIDAAAAY

2004-03-12T16:50:00.000-06:00

Friday makes me feel like I'm four and it's finally warm enough to play outside in the yard. Happy happy happy.

However I am finding a sincere lack of things to do since most of my buddies are married and do not do spontaneous weekend revelry type things.

I would like to be the sort of person who goes to a bar alone and just chats people up but I'm not. I admire those people to no end. I don't think it's that I'm uncomfortable around people. It's more the fact that I have no idea what I'd say.

Perhaps I will take a walk on the wild side tonight and have a drink somewhere new in hopes that I will meet like-minded people.

BEER NOW PLEASE

2004-03-11T18:30:00.000-06:00

Today I felt exactly like the guy from Office Space. Exactly. I wanted to take a spreadsheet and chocke someone with it.

Have you ever taken one of those online what-job-best-suits-you tests? I have, and they always tell me that I should be in some type of creative field.

If I didn't think working in a creative field would mean I'd be making minimum wage at a record store I would quit my job and go for it.

Alas, I have sold out to the man.

MORE COFFEE MASTERRRR

2004-03-11T13:47:00.000-06:00

There are times in which I feel like a competent professional type person who is fairly polished and capable.

Other times I feel like Igor the office grunt.

HI I AM FOURTEEN

2004-03-11T12:39:00.000-06:00

I just spent about fifteen minutes having this elaborate fantasy in which Brad Pitt (Meet Joe Black Brad Pitt, not Dirty Hippie Brad Pitt) rolled up to my place with orange roses and a basket of Lush products and told me I was breathtakingly beautiful.

I know that's such a cliche but I really enjoyed it.

SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA SHAKE YOUR HEAD

2004-03-11T10:51:00.000-06:00

There are times when I read the newspaper and pretend that it's really not the news, just some weird comic book zine thing that comes out every day, some product of the overactive mind of some little bespectacled guy in a basement somewhere like that guy in Conspiracy Theory.

It would be kind of nice if that were true.

BLOGGING IS BETTER THAN YOGA

2004-03-10T18:31:00.000-06:00

I can see how I might be perceived as a snotty little crabass. However this is the point of my blog. Crabassery is good for the soul, and nowhere is this evident more than in the blog community.

I suspect that most bloggers are mild-mannered folk and are not necessarily half as opinionated and snotty as they may seem. I would even go so far as to say that most of us are pretty darn nice people. Why? Because we gripe bitch and complain about every miniscule irritation. We get it out of our systems by blurting it out on the screen, and then it's gone.

I don't hate people from Texas. I don't walk around railing about Rush. If you saw me on the street you would probably think I was a kindly-looking person, and if you spoke to me you'd find that I am pleasant and polite and usually full of fun sarcastic banter. I am not an evil hag that gets my ya-yas by trashing mankind. I'd like to buy the world a fucking Coke, for Chrissakes.

I just wanted to let you know that I am not quite as surly as I seem.

Maybe just a little.

If you're a particularly uptight conservative then I probably am really surly, but I dont care.

Deal with it.

And have a nice day.

TEXAS DEBBIES

2004-03-10T14:38:00.000-06:00

For some reason having to press on a plastic smile while listening to the visiting salesperson from Dallas as she giggles and gushes about Ann Taylor (a place that I will most likely never be able to afford) really irritates me.

Maybe it's because the woman in question has teased hair and is wearing metallic pink nail polish on her two-inch-long talons. Maybe I am envious of the four hundred dollar suit that she has accessorized so horribly. Maybe I hate everyone over the age of twenty that giggles.

Somehow I don't have a hard time picturing her at a debutante ball being escorted by one of Texas's upandcoming young Republinazis.

Maybe I am kind of a bitch but women like that piss me off. This is someone from money (swanky pearls) who was born with a road map. I am willing to bet that she attended the same university her mother attended and lived in the same sorority house. She only dated men from the proper fraternities and is now married to some guy that slaps his secretary on the ass because his wife has gotten puffy from having kids and scary-looking from too many Botox shots.

These women own every item from the Pampered Chef catalog and never use any of them. They only drink expensive white whine and say things like "goodness me" instead of swearing.

This is one of those women. Her eyes look over-open and sort of glazed.

The whole facade just seems so fake, like she should step out of her proper suit and bouffant hair and just kick back in some sweats with a beer.

I wonder if she ever wants to do that. Somehow I think not.

OH GIVE IT UP RUSH

2004-03-10T11:45:00.000-06:00

OK. I am no fan of Rush Limbaugh. I find him to be one of the most obnoxious so-and-sos in history. He is cocky in that middle-aged-white-man-in-an-expensive-but-ill-fitting-suit way, and I feel that his politics could best be described as self-serving boolshit.

Why does this man feel that he should be above the law? His privacy is more important than the fact that he was bouncing along from doctor to doctor like Tweedledee? Sure.

His former maid is quoted as saying that she supplied him with "large quantities of painkillers" for years. So we have the maid and the doctor-hopping. How many of these things was he taking? Was this a substitute for Twinkie addiction?

I believe in second chances even for Rush, but I think he must still be under the influence if he thinks those medical records will stay out of court.

HI MOM

2004-03-09T17:05:00.000-06:00

The Daily Herald linked my blurb.

*note - scroll all the way down*

I feel so special.

WHY NOT

2004-03-09T16:48:00.000-06:00

I think that someone should put John Ashcroft's gall bladder on Ebay. I'd bid on it providing things didn't start to get out of hand price-wise.

It would make a great conversation piece or perhaps a very unique dog toy.

TAKE YOUR SLIMFAST AND SHOVE IT

2004-03-09T15:21:00.000-06:00

OK, I don't mean to sound like the food-snobby vegetarian bitch I am often accused of being, but really office ladies, you are too much.

Maybe when I am fifty I too will dissect everything and calcuate its weight watchers points and carbs and fat grams, but right about now it gives me a big fat fucking headache. Every day I hear at least ten separate diatribes about food, and so help me God I am going to cram a Twinkie up the ass of the next person who starts in on her diet.

If I sincerely believed that any one of you honestly gave a shit about losing your spare tire I would cease giving you a hard time (on this page, of course I am not quite this blunt in real life but I damn well wish I could be), but when I see that you have just absorbed your fourth Krispy Kreme and show no sign of stopping it is hard for me to Feel Your Pain.

What really frosts my cookie is when you eat the damn Krispy Kremes all morning and then spend a half an hour of your lunch loudly dissecting your salad in the lunchroom because there might be a slice of Atkins-unfriendly onion in it.

Am I supposed to feel bad that you are not melting away like Tammy Faye Baker's mascara? Am I supposed to share your righteous indignation in the face of your husband's newly found love of the MTV Spring Break girls? Am I supposed to listen to you whine about how much your damn feet hurt when I know very well that you sit on your ass for ninety nine point nine percent of the day?

Cry me a freaking river, Chubby.

I am often dragged into these diet discussions because people know that I do not eat meat and assume that I am a starving calorie counter. This is not true, and talking about food bores me to the core.

The other day I ate a banana and every single heifer that passed my desk screamed about the nine hundred carbs contained in its innocent looking yellow skin.

I don't give a rat's ass about carbs. I am not a chunky person. If I were a chunky person then I'd hope I would have the good grace to shut the hell up about it and bust my ass until my chunkiness had dissipated.

Why people want to burden the world with their tales of weight loss woe is completely beyond me. I can understand the serious ones, but this stupid office chatter is completely vapid and worthless.

With that I am going to go deep throat a banana in the copy room just to piss people off.

I CAN'T HELP MYSELF

2004-03-09T14:50:00.000-06:00

I really feel like a first-class asshole when ordering at Starbux. Somehow the language of plush coffee has escaped me.

"I'd like a non-fat soy mocha with an extra shot. Or is that a capuccino? Or is it a latte? Does soy count as a latte? Is this called something else that I don't know about? WHY AM I MISREPRESENTING MY ENTIRE GENERATION BY NOT BEING ABLE TO ORDER A GODDAMN EXPENSIVE-ASSED COFFEE FROM THIS EVIL CORPORATE NIGHTMARE???? WHY???? TWELVE-YEAR-OLDS KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A LATTE AND A MOCHA!!!! I JUST WANT SOMETHING THAT'S LOADED WITH CAFFEINE AND SUGAR, GODDAMNIT, I HAVE A LOT OF FUCKING WORK TO DO!!!! CHAI???? WHAT THE FUCK IS A CHAI???? I JUST NOW LEARNED ESPRESSO, AND YOU'RE GOING TO HIT ME WITH CHAI???? AAAAAGH!!!!"

You should hear me when I'm at the drive-through.

THIS TOPIC HAS ALREADY BEEN BEATEN TO DEATH

2004-03-09T10:32:00.000-06:00

I'm getting sick of hearing about it too, but I can't stop thinking about Martha Stewart in prison.

I really don't think she's going to become someone's bitch. Anyone who has watched Martha Stewart on the television has seen her scary and somehow eerily (is that a word?) distant facial expressions. I am willing to bet that she will be running the joint within weeks.

Instead of having her lackeys purchase black market cigarettes she will ask for dried flowers and wire. Rather than spending her time getting into exercise yard brawls she will search for tiny pebbles with which to make mosaic art. Martha will change the face of prison cooking with her handy kitchen tips, and rather than shoveling down Salisbury steak and cold mashed potatoes, the prison girls will dine on ratatouille, herbed lamb chops, or fresh gazpacho.

It may sound like these activities would make her a mark, but I doubt anyone is going to be fucking with Martha. She smacks of a woman who would rip off your head, shit down your neck, and use your skull as a folk art centerpiece. Perhaps she will offer to teach Killer and Mo-Mo some new skills such as decoupage or maybe sponge painting.

Somehow I have faith that she will create a more genteel breed of prison matrons, and maybe that makes the whole debacle worthwhile.

THIS AIN'T NO MENSA MEETING

2004-03-09T10:25:00.000-06:00

Coworker A: Go ahead, ask Miller. She's good at this kind of thing.
Coworker B: I can't get into my employee e-mail account.
Miller: What happened when you tried to get in?
Coworker B: It said I had the wrong password.
Miller: Did you try another password? Maybe you forgot it.
Coworker B: I don't have another password. I use the same password for everything.
Miller: Call Tech Person and get your password, maybe you forgot it.
Coworker B: I did that. He said it was the same password I typed in.
Miller: Did you try it more than once?
Coworker B: No. Hang on a second.
Coworker B: Well how about that. Now it works. Damn computers. He must have reset it or something.

The scary thing is that this man truly believes that there is no chance he may have typed his password in wrong the first time. He instead chooses to believe that there is an evil technology troll in the basement somewhere that is fucking with his head.

Who knows, maybe he's right.

DID I MISPLACE MY UTERUS?

2004-03-09T08:30:00.000-06:00

I received this in my inbox today:

INCREASE THE SIZE OF THAT LOVE PUMP!

Somehow I cannot imagine any man referring to his mister happy as a "love pump". Nor can I imagine any woman referring to mister happy as a "love pump", including myself.

I applaud the spammers for their inventive phrases but something tells me that that particular e-mail will not receive many responses. It made me picture a man attaching a bicycle pump to his penis, and I'm sure that most men would be appalled by that little visual.

Taking into consideration the fact that part of my e-mail address is "miss", I'm not sure why I am frequently targeted by penis e-mailers.

Perhaps they assume that I have a boyfriend, but even if I did I don't think I'd pass any tips in his direction.

DAMN DAMN DAMN

2004-03-08T16:42:00.000-06:00

Dear Ebay users:

I hate you. I really really really hate you. Just when I think I have a shot at those black leather GAP pants (long length), you place a bid at the last possible second.

How are you doing this? I have cable internet and should be whupping your dialup asses.

I don't mind losing but I cannot tolerate losing by fifty fucking cents.

You're probably not even tall. You're probably like five fucking three and are going to hem the damn things or wear them all long and get the bottoms all frayed. What a waste of good pants.

This is the third time I have lost The Pants and I will probably never find them again.

You suck and I hope whoever owned those pants before had crabs.

Sincerely,

Miller

ALAS, WE KNEW HER WELL

2004-03-05T15:14:00.000-06:00

Martha Stewart has been convicted guilty on all counts. I will now lower my bleached-cotton hand-embroidered flag that has been dyed with the juice of berries grown in my own lovely garden to half-mast out of respect.

SOMETHING I FORGOT TO CONSIDER

2004-03-05T13:46:00.000-06:00

When you take a sick day, they save your work for you.

Damn.

COOKING WITH MILLER

2004-03-04T14:17:00.000-06:00

OK, perfect sandwich:

2 slices Brownberry 12-grain bread (stops to consider that she cannot even name 12 grains)
one plum tomato, sliced
half an avocado, sliced
couple slices of onion
couple of sliced banana peppers
romaine
slice of fresh mozzarella

This will make your mouth happy just like (whatever product is responsible for that phrase).

So good.

YES YES YES THANK YOU

2004-03-04T11:46:00.000-06:00

This comes from the brilliant awesome people over at Get Your War On.

Fuck NASA.

GOD I MISSED 'ONE LIFE TO LIVE'

2004-03-04T09:45:00.000-06:00

I am taking a sick day. I plan to stay home and watch soap operas and curl up under a quilt and take Midol and whine a little bit.

I almost forgot how much fun this is.

POINT TAKEN

2004-03-03T22:54:00.000-06:00

Yes I'm a little crabby and I think I need a beer.

Everything looks brighter after a beer. That should be a slogan.

I WOULD LIKE A SEX CHANGE PLEASE

2004-03-03T22:51:00.000-06:00

I'm sick of having a vagina. I'm sick of bleeding and cramping and moodiness and having to purchase large wads of cotton for ridiculous amounts of money.

If anyone is interested in a trade, please let me know. You can have the periods or the babies and I will control the remote and scratch my balls.

I SHOULD HAVE GONE TO LAW SCHOOL

2004-03-03T17:57:00.000-06:00

It would be nice to get paid for arguing with co-workers instead of just enjoying it occasionally.

It would also be nice to get paid for watching movies, listening to new records, or testing new brands of cookies.

I think my dream job would be owning my own record store in which I would not carry copies of anything by Celine Dion or Linkin Park or Michael Bolton or Nelly. It would be called Miller's Stuff That Isn't Crap.

I could see this store being located on Clark Street. I would serve coffee and homemade cookies and talk with people about old Prince songs and why Radiohead is not the be-all end-all of modern music. I would have a few laptops with cable internet access, piles of funky magazines, and a mural of my favorite musicians on the back wall. I would also have an in-store cat, because my favorite old record store had its own cat. This cat would remain completely composed, content to have its head scratched at odd intervals by people with weird hair.

Instead I am here waiting for some pointless information that I will rearrange in an artistic manner and pass along to someone else who will pass it along to someone else.

It's just not as much fun.

PROOF THAT I AM TRULY A GEEK

2004-03-03T13:45:00.000-06:00

I am on an action figure kick. I am aware that this is possibly the most nerdly hobby ever but I must confess that I love my little army.

Sitting on my desk are the following characters in the following order:

Jesus
Marilyn Manson
Selene from Underworld
Sigmund Freud
Cobra Bubbles from Lilo and Stitch
Neo from the Matrix (gun pointed at Freud)
Trinity from the Matrix (gun pointed at Marilyn Manson)
William Shakespeare

I'm glad I don't have a camcorder because if I did I would probably make some seriously stupid little movies.

THINGS I'D LIKE TO SAY BUT NEVER WILL VOL. I

2004-03-03T12:36:00.000-06:00

"Hey Miller, have you seen The Passion Of Christ?"
"Why no I have not. I have about as much interest in seeing The Passion of Christ as I have in seeing your grandfather in a thong bikini. If people don't shut up about that movie fairly soon I will staple popsicle stick crosses all over my body and run down Michigan Avenue in the nude. It will be filmed, and people from all over the world will flock to see The Passion Of Miller."

"Miller, don't you ever just want a hamburger? Don't you ever cheat?"
"No I don't 'cheat' because I am not on a diet, you airheaded idiot with your Big Mac and your fat-free chips and your nonstop moaning about your weight problem. And no I don't want a disgusting piece of ground up mad cow that is fried in lard. I would rather eat cat vomit. If you are really that desperate to wear a size five than you would do well to stop inhaling fast food at every given opportunity. If you're not that desperate then accept your size and shut up about it, because I think I can speak for the entire office when I say that we are sick to death of listening to your speeches about carbs and fat grams and the half a pound you lost last Tuesday. You are a caricature of the typical middle-aged diet obsessed office matron and you annoy me more than you can imagine."

"We need to look at the **finger quotes** big picture."
"Someone should tie you to the El tracks."

"Workin' hard or hardly workin'?"
"Wow that is really a witty turn of phrase you've employed. I really do appreciate that you stop by my desk every day to look at my boobs but I am workin' hard as you put it and really can't stop to listen to someone that makes me want to put arsenic in my coffee."

I am really not this mean but sometimes I just hate these people.

AND NOW FOR MORE PLEASANT NEWS

2004-03-03T11:36:00.000-06:00

For some reason I am pulling for Martha Stewart. She scares me and intimidates me but I respect her empire.

I know that insider trading is wrong but the girl is crafty like ice is cold and the world has become a more well-matched place thanks to her tireless efforts.

Go on with your bad self, Martha. I hope you get community service and paint lovely understated murals over the country's graffiti.

I WOULD LIKE AN UZI PLEASE

2004-03-03T11:01:00.000-06:00

The following conversation is taking place about six feet away from me:

"...and at least we don't live in San Francisco."
"Hell you'd have to stay indoors lately to get away from all the queers."
"If that ever happens here I would move to another country, sweartaGahd."
"It makes me sick You know Ah-nold wants to get those fags out of his state."

I am glaring as evilly as I know how and am almost ready to throw my coffee.

This is not Arkansas - this is Chicago and people like this should not be allowed to breathe.

NEVER WAS A CORNFLAKE GIRL

2004-03-02T15:17:00.000-06:00

I hate Tori Amos.

There - I said it. Give me my official penis.

I AM THE MOLE

2004-03-02T15:08:00.000-06:00

Now this may be the product of my overactive imagination but the accounts payable chick just walked out of the head honcho's lair looking decidedly rumpled. She also has a run in her pantyhose that I don't remember seeing earlier. No lipstick (remember that I am obsessed with lipstick), hair slightly mussed, but that could be intentional.

If I was going to fuck my boss I think I'd have the decency to do it in the executive restroom like I imagine everyone else does.

Not that I would fuck my boss, mind you. He looks like a constipated squirrel.

Still, I think it would be really great to go into work every day and know that you had fucked someone there.

ONE LAST THOUGHT BEFORE I ACTUALLY HAVE TO WORK

2004-03-02T13:40:00.000-06:00

I think that the daily grind would be much enhanced by a steady stream of old school rap music. Businesses would be wise to give this idea a whirl instead of the vacuous Muzak that seems to be the corporate standard.

Tell me that it wouldn't be incredible to watch the accounting department jam out to EPMD.

I wouldn't even need coffee if I could watch something like that.

IF YOU LIKE ME CHECK THIS BOX

2004-03-02T13:34:00.000-06:00

Trying to determine a person's feelings was so much easier in the fifth grade when notes were passed on non-college ruled paper and folded into neat little origami triangles.

DAMN YOU WORLD'S FINEST CHOCOLATE

2004-03-02T12:38:00.000-06:00

I'm a mark. Everyone knows that I will:

A) buy anything from a child
B) buy anything containing chocolate
C) spend far too much money on both of the above

Somewhere there is a large squad of children who I have outfitted with polyester uniforms and new bases. When I am old and fat I will curse them with every wheezing breath.

Until then I must admit that these almond chocolate bars are really fucking good.

WE AM DE BEST

2004-03-02T12:36:00.000-06:00

I fixed my picture.

I was going to add that I then stood up with my arms aloft and screamed "WOOOOOO!" but that would be the act of a desperately geeky person.

I AM CONSUMED WITH THOUGHTS OF LIPSTICK

2004-03-02T10:43:00.000-06:00

Long-wearing lipstick looks like dried paint. I think it's sad that some of us have become too lazy to put on a fresh coat every so often. Does this world really need lipstick that turns lips into plastic and lasts through kisses, spaghetti dinners, severe hailstorms, and lengthy blowjobs?

This morning I saw a woman who had a sort of lipstick crust around her mouth that was obviously caused by long-wearing lipstick.

If you don't have time to reapply during a twelve-hour day then you really need to rethink your version of time management.

This is yet another symptom of a society that can't be bothered to do anything. I imagine that the next hot new product will be a lipstick that attaches to one's handbag and then applies itself using a robotic arm and lip sensors.

THIS JUST IN

2004-03-02T10:35:00.000-06:00

Dick Clark is being sued for age discrimination.