Oops, I clicked it again
Who’s the biggest idiot around? A PR person, it seems. Read this: http://www.techcrunch.com/2007/03/28/microsoft-accidentally-sends-secret-file-on-journalist-to-that-journalist/ to giggle a bit.
A Microsoft PR accidentally sent an email about a journalist who was writing about MS. That’s not unusual, you may say. But it is if he sends it to that journalist!
Now we’ve all had the fear that we may inadvertently send something not meant for the eyes of others (see Accidental Revelations http://tobbherhank.blogspot.com/2007/03/accidental-revelations.html) but for a PR and a journo it’s a somewhat different thing.
Because here you’re not just talking about bums and bits; here you’re talking about integrity and credibility.
For a MS PR to reveal exactly how controlling the company is is quite scary especially if you know that Wired magazine is probably the best, and most influential, tech magazine in the world. Imagine how much spin they produce for “lesser” publications.
Read what the journalist, Fred Vogelstein, had to say on the whole saga: http://blog.wired.com/business/2007/03/enough_about_me.html
It’s a good lesson for us all. ALWAYS check the email address before you click send…
Nothingness
What do you do when you have no desire to work? You have to do lots of shopping because the only edibles in your flat are in boxes, tins and packets? You have cleaning to do because your folks are popping around (note to self: check everything)? You hang gat, that’s what you do.
Yesterday I had an emailing fest with some friends and former colleagues (some of the group were the former, the others the latter). I was on deadline so tried to keep on top of it but now, when I have free time, everyone else is busy. Not fair I tell ya. Not fair.
Anyway, so now I will go back and try to remember whether I have milk in my flat ’cos Dad doesn’t drink black tea.
Accidental revelations
Ok, this I have to share. I shouldn’t, but I’m going to. A colleague on vac recently sent an email. I won’t say to whom or why but lets just say it was to more than just one person.
I don’t think she intended for it to go to more than one though because girlfriend’s email was rather shockingly frank. Basically she spoke of her trip and all the lovely things she was doing there but then…
A revelation of embarrassing/funny (depending which way you look at it) spilled forth. Let’s just say it involved nekkidness, bushes and an “unforgettable” experience for her. I will say no more and leave you kids to work it out for yourselves…
Touchy feely
There are very few people who are allowed to touch me. Very, very few. And even those very few know that needless touching is not a good thing in my book. Dropping a hand on my shoulder, for example, is rather pointless unless it’s to pat me on the back for a job well done.
By now you should’ve figured out that I’m rather vicious when strangers decide to touch me. Not in an improper way even, just a casual touch freaks me the hell out.
So it was no surprise when I nearly slapped a man down to his knobbly knees after he placed his hand on my shoulder while I was talking to my boss.
It was an innocent gesture, I’m sure, but I HATED it and wanted to claw his well-groomed face with a stapler or other such object.
Turns out friend is a serial toucher. Not just me who’s fallen prey to aforementioned grubby paws. Nee dinges vat aan alles wat beweeg. It’s freaking our male staffers out more than the female ones but everyone agrees: he touches too much.
I don’t think he realises it but he can’t help touching people. I know some people are just affectionate like that but jirrie, a person can’t stand it!
But now how, without making him feel like a perve (which I’m sure he’s not), do we tell him to stop extending his hands and lying them down where they’re not welcome?
awakeness
This is turning out to be a day in hell. Or something resembling it anyway. It’s 22h15 and I’m still at work. Some perspective: I wake up at 6h30. Now that’s not such a long time to be awake. But it is a long time to be awake at work. I would kill for a cup of coffee and my bed right now.
Kick that bag
I miss doing mauy thai. No matter what anyone says I didn’t just do it for one week! Yes you naysayers, I did exercise…Those of you who know me very well know of my severe reaction to any forms of exercise. I just don’t do it. It’s not a word that exists in my vocab but mauy thai was different. Apart from the skipping and stupid lunge/crawl/lie-on-the-floor bits, it was an excellent way to stay fit and cool off after work.
There I could learn how to kick ass and take out all my frustrations on a punching bag. And not just a pissy one like you see in those boxing movies. These were moerse bags that could knock you to the ground if you weren’t careful.
I would give anything to be able to punch, kick and hit that bag right now. Someone please make sure annoying girl does not want to come over to talk to me.
Home is where the heart is
I love visiting my family. It’s such a nice way to unwind. I don’t have to think, explain, discuss, engage, or any of those other things I do everywhere else. I can just sit and stare at a wall if I wanted to.
I don’t, of course, because in my family there’s never a quiet moment. It’s the nosiest, most raucous place I know and I love it. Everyone talks and everyone thinks their story is most important. I usually only stay for a few hours so there’s always a mad dash to get stories in first and the battle for talk-time grows more ferocious as the clock continues ticking.
I can’t imagine living in my parental home ever again; it’s been too long since I’ve been living alone. But I will always come back here time after time. You know what they say about home being where the heart is.
Down with cricket…
Raise your hand if you are sick of cricket. *Raised hand*. Everywhere I look or listen it’s cricket, cricket, cricket. I know it’s the World Cup but come on people, I don’t want another fraction of cricket creeping into my space. While writing this post I’ve heard the word cricket five times. Yes, FIVE friggin times. And when you’re typing 60 words per minute, five times is a lot. I’m boycotting cricket…right after I finish my cricket article. *sigh*
Unwelcome visitor
I have a visitor. It’s settling and doesn’t seem to have any plans to leave soon. It wasn’t invited and is most certainly not welcome. It’s one of those taai ones – those visitors who pitch up and refuse to leave despite your best efforts to get rid of them (don’t have that much these days as only people I really like are allowed into my personal space).
But no, this one defies my every attempt to get rid of it. This one is like the worst squatter you’ve ever come across and has settled squarely on my forehead above my left eyebrow. It’s quiet for now but I know it’s just resting; gathering strength and biding it’s time until it really announces it’s arrival to the world.
There’s nothing I can do to kick it out short of involving a blade and some serious bandages so I’ll just have to ride this one out. If you don’t hear from me in the next few days assume it’s exploded and blinded me in the process. This while driving thus causing a huge accident. Fuck, I really hate zits.
Overheard
I just heard this on radio: a huge percentage of men go for women who resemble their moms, act like their moms, think like their moms and do things like their moms. I’m guessing those results are very bad or I’m in serious trouble cos I don’t meet any of those requirements…
TOBBHERHANK 