Ever deal with that person who is unhappy with everything? We had one in Tartarus today.
We are the first to admit that Tartarus is a terrible place. Even so, if you come to Tartarus willingly, don't complain about it.
This woman came to our main desk and immediately started to criticize the way we do things. "That's not how they do it in Oz," she said. (Oz is our name for a place almost exactly like Tartarus two towns over). "Oz is much more accommodating. Oz is more user friendly. You always mess things up here. You lose my information. You need to be more like Oz. It's not that hard."
She was starting to look like this. Except more bitter.
Then she loudly proclaimed everything that we could do to become more like Oz. We did everything right. We offered to send her up to talk to the Hutt. Nothing doing. The old biddy was not going to be happy until we turned into Oz.
If she loves Oz so terribly much, why does she ever come to Tartarus? That lack of logic is why the murder goose is after her today.
If you asked us to name Tartarus's biggest problem our answer would be easy: communication. (Although the honest answer would be the Hutt. Still communication is a very close second.)
Everything in Tartarus is a secret. The Hutt and Shoes wouldn't tell us the name of our newest employee until her first day. They told us she had been a park ranger "for...a number of years." That is literally what we were told. Even her tenure at her last job was a secret.
Some time ago we all got a nasty email from the Hutt, proclaiming that some people were terrible and never hit "reply all" when answering email. This, we were told, was the source of all of our communication issues. We were instructed, from that point forward, to always cc the Hutt and Shoes and to always reply all. It was ridiculous. So, your friends Spoof and Speck lived by the exact letter of the law. We replied to every single email, if only just to say "I agree."
We like this game
The email situation was supposed to help us communicate better. As you might have guessed, it didn't fix a thing. No one knows what's going on. Ever.
Communication was even the theme of both of our employee evaluations this year. Spoof was called "a mystery." "All I know about what you're doing is what I hear from your coworkers," the Hutt said.
translation - we work with tattletales
Speck was reminded "you work with more than just Spoof."
translation - I'd like it better if you ignored Spoof like Opie does
The irony here - we actually do a better job of sharing important information than anyone else in Tartarus.
When Mo spotted this sign in a store window, he couldn't help but pose with it. We think he has modeled himself after the Hulk.
Look at that pose. An exact replica.
Like the Hulk, you won't like Rabid Mo when he's angry. Of course, he's evil, so we don't figure you'll like him any time. He's just worse when he's mad.
Don't forget, just one week left to share your thoughts on punching. Not sure what we're talking about? Check out this post. Leave your thoughts in the comments section. November 1st we'll do something cool with your comments here on the blog.
Thinking of buying a house? Be careful of how you go about looking. Check out what we saw when we went for a walk today.
What's that? You don't see anything wrong with this picture? Then look at this one.
See him now?
We're sure most of you would have missed him in there. If we weren't constantly on the lookout for that wily squirrel we would have missed him there. So, imagine you're in a new town, hoping to find a house to buy. You want one of those handy leaflets that lists every house available. You open the little bin and see this:
We have been incredibly lucky of late. All of last week the Hutt was away. We didn't get yelled at for no apparent reason or glared at just for existing. It did mean that Shoes has been an absolute control freak but you take what you can get.
That was great, but then both the Hutt and Shoes have been gone for two days straight at some conference or something. We're not clear on the details. We stopped listening after "the Hutt and Shoes will be away." It's been the best two days in Tartarus ever. We've been laughing. Laughing!
Fun time for Spoof and Speck!
We've been flinging little plastic bugs across the desk at each other. We had secret doughnut parties. (Now you should start singing that to the tune of "Secret Agent Man." You know you want to. We sing every time we say "secret doughnut party.")
Imagine them wearing little fedoras and lurking in dark corners.
It was, quite possibly, the most fun anyone has ever had in Tartarus. Sadly, all good things end. Shoes and the Hutt come back tomorrow and we have to be on our best behavior again. We can feel the stress rising up just thinking about it.
We're going to tell you a story. You're never going to believe it, but we swear this really happened. Honestly. Today a woman walked into Tartarus carrying a large plastic shopping bag. It held a television. Not one of those little, battery operated, black and white sets the size of a lunch box. No, we're talking modern, midsized flat screen.
Imagine carrying this around
To our credit, no one asked her what she thought she was doing. We might have stared a little. Okay, a lot. Okay, everyone at the desk was staring at her like she had twelve heads. But honestly, what would you have been doing?
She acted like this was nothing out of the ordinary. She walked that t.v. right up to the desk. "Excuse me, is there somewhere I can plug this in?"
This was all the response we could manage
"I just need to plug it in really quickly," she said. "There's a disc still in it that I need to return."
Major kudos to the Zebra who got the awkward job of dealing with her. Instead of calling her an idiot (as we were inclined to do) he just pointed her to the nearest outlet. She retrieved the disc and was on her way.
What just happened here?
So our question is this: why didn't she just take the disc out wherever she had the tv in the first place. We can think of no situation in which it would be easier to take the tv with you somewhere instead of just the disc. She apparently didn't have the case at home but even so, there has to be some easier way to protect the disc than carrying a wide screen television set all over town.
Can anyone explain this to us? If you can provide some halfway rational explanation to this situation we'll let you pick the beast we add to our next altered magazine page here on Falling Down the Death Stare. So our question is this: why didn't
This is a new repaint for us. Usually we work with images from magazines. This one is actually a print of an existing painting, The Windmill at Wijk bij Duurstede painted in 1670 by Jacob van Ruisdael. We're quite fond of the cyclops. He looks like he wants to crack open that windmill like a lobster and slurp up the creamy insides. Or maybe he's trying to hide behind it so he can get access to the ships in the harbor. Either way, he's eating well tonight.
Open the refrigerator in Tartarus and this is what you will see.
This is pretty normal stuff, right? Take a closer look at those grapes.
See how wrinkly they are? We call them grapeys.
Grapeys are halfway between raisins and wine. They've been in the refrigerator for almost two months now. This is not uncommon in Tartarus. Our refrigerator is like a pit where food goes to die and turn to dust. Jugs of juice are left to go bad and bloat.
Even snowmen think it's disgusting
Of course, the fridge isn't the only place this happens. Check out this next photo.
This bargain brand chex mix has been open for at least six months. It must be incredibly stale by now. Who would want to eat this, we thought. Then we looked inside.
Why is an empty bag on the shelf?!
Who in their right mind keeps and empty snack mix bag for months? What is wrong with these people?
Right when we thought things couldn't get any dumber in Tartarus, Shoes surprised us again.
Listen to this newest stupidity.
Apparently, no one can find anything or put anything away unless it is labeled. And we mean everything.
The most useful tool ever. Apparently.
It started with shelves in the staff room. They were all going to be labeled by department "so no one department (read - Spoof and Speck's department) takes up more than it's fair share." Of course, our shelf got labeled and then nothing else.
Then all of the filing cabinets got labeled. Not just with contents. No. The cabinets were all numbered and a master list of contents got made. Plus, certain cabinets were assigned to certain people. Not all of us. Our department must share two cabinets. Not that we're bitter.
This is all a little overdone, but whatever. Ah, but our story doesn't end there.
Shoes has rediscovered the label maker. Now, every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen must have a label detailing it's contents. As if we can't open said drawer or cabinet and see that it has silverware. Or napkins. Or coffee filters. It takes two seconds. Use your brains folks.
Just today, we found staplers and tape dispensers labeled not only with what they are (duh) but also where they belong. Every stapler and tape in the building is exactly identical. Does it matter which stapler you have so long as you have one?
It's not quite this bad, but close
We've decided that if we have to be dumb and label dumb stuff, we're going to be really dumb and label everything. While we don't have a label maker we do have permanent markers ready to go. By the end of the week we want a label on everything. And we mean everything - pencils, individual sheets of toilet paper, every paper clip - should have an identifying label.
By the time we're done, someone's going to have a serious alcohol problem.
We're not sure what to make of this next Mo photo. Is this two animal chums having a nice little chat? Or is something more nefarious afoot? Could they be plotting?
This may well be the first documented proof of brain-washing by squirrel.
Whatever this is, we don't trust it. So, be aware friends. Crows may now be working for that wicked rabid squirrel.
There is one thing, though, that will keep us from ever looking at muffins the same way again.
The fact is, the Mosquito has become the uber-muffin. Mosquito can do no wrong in the eyes of the Hutt or Shoes. Things that we would not dare ever do, for fear of the skin-blistering death stare that the Hutt tends to give us, are perfectly fine when the Mosquito does them.
We have discovered that Shoes and the Mosquito now send each other sickeningly sweet emails at work. There are photos of cute kittens and secret sharing. This is actually expressly forbidden under the rule of the Hutt. Because it is Shoes and the Mosquito, though, this is fine.
Yesterday, the Mosquito was cutting paper shapes at the desk, something we have been told time and again is not allowed. Not only did the Mosquito not clean up the mess left behind, she also managed to lose the scissors. We have no idea how.
How do you lose a thing like this in a fixed location?
There was a time when we thought perhaps the Mosquito was not aware of this special treatment. It has been more than a year now. The time where this could be ignored as ignorance has passed. Some of this is being done on purpose.
We understand the need for middle management, at least in theory. The boss may be too busy to handle everything. A good middle manager picks up the slack, makes certain the floor is running smoothly. All that jazz.
The problem is, some get that teeny little taste of something like power and go absolutely bonkers. Shoes is one of this second sort. At first, upon taking a management role, Shoes couldn't make a single solo decision. Literally, even the location of a stapler took twenty minutes of debate. And we're not even talking about which desk to put the stapler on. No, this was a twenty minute discussion of which side of the phone the stapler should be on.
I can't decide. Such a hard choice to make.
Not any more. Oh no, Shoes has tasted power and found it to be the sweetest ambrosia.
Shoes insists that our internet browser tabs be in a particular order "so it's easier for everyone to find things." (Shoes says that this rule came from the Hutt, but our spies tell us that this is a complete lie.)
The most recent power trip is about desk drawers. Shoes likes to use little scraps of paper for notes, pieces about 2" by 4" cut from used printer paper. We don't really use them, but to each his own right? Oh no. Shoes has decided that every desk drawer must have a little box of said paper. Our main desk is littered with these boxes. And when Spoof refused to put one in a drawer, Shoes waited until neither of us was around and taped a box into the drawer.
So we've decided. Shoes might be able to force the boxes on us, but no one can force us to use them. To that end, we empty our scrap paper box into the recycling every chance we get. This is our line in the sand.
So, there's this woman who comes into Tartarus regularly. Let's call her Pinky.
She's....well let's just say she's an experience. She really likes Spoof. She's been known to refuse to deal with anyone but Spoof. For two years she had no idea who Speck was, in spite of talking to Speck every week. Speck once said to her, "Hi Pinky." Well, Pinky just about jumped out of her skin. "How do you know my name," she demanded. This is a standard encounter with Pinky.
One of the weirdest things we've heard Pinky say is "My new hobby is outhouses." Now, we know some people like photos of old outhouses. We've even seen outhouse Christmas ornaments. This is not what Pinky means.
We don't see the appeal, but whatever.
No, Pinky has an entirely different kind of thing in mind. This is what Pinky likes.
Who in their right minds likes these?
Of course, Pinky is also in love with a sock, but that's a story for a different time.
Yes, it's that time again. Time for Spoof and Speck to share another fantastic painting with you. This is one of the earliest Spoof and Speck paintings, back when we painted under a single name. You'll notice the signature in the lower right-hand corner.
We were lucky enough to snap this photo of Mo as he watched someone from a tree branch. Needless to say, just after taking the photo we crossed the street and walked on the opposite sidewalk. Even though he already had a target in his sights we figured it was better not to tempt fate.
Don't be fooled by his cuteness. Mo's not playing hide and seek.
Lately we've been debating the merits of punching people we don't like. Neither of us has ever hit a person, nor has the desire to do so ever been so strong.
So the question is this: if you have a whole list of people you want to punch what do you do? Do you punch the person you hate the most first, in case you decide you don't like hitting people, so you can be sure to get this most important punch in? Or is it better to save the most hated person for last, thereby getting as many practice punches in as possible, so that most important punch has the most impact (pun intended)?
What do you think friends? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.
