Have you ever noticed — whenever ‘testicular’ comes up in conversation, there’s never anything good following it? Seriously, for an adjective that you’d think guys would be pretty sensitive about, it’s never used in a positive way. It’s always ‘testicular cancer’, or ‘testicular hemmorhaging’, or ‘testicular painful throbbing’. Isn’t that kind of sad?
I mean, can’t we just occasionally throw ‘testicular’ a bone? Every once in a while, can’t somebody mention ‘testicular massage’, or ‘testicular aromatherapy’, or even ‘testicular non-painful throbbing’? Must we pre-wince, every single time we hear the word ‘testicular’? That’s all I’m saying.
On a related note, all of this reminds me — once again, just like a couple of weeks ago — how easy it is to confuse certain similar-sounding words. Like… oh, I don’t know, not to flaunt my own embarrassing boobery, but let’s say… ‘testicular’ and ‘vehicular’. Just for instance.
I suppose the distinction shouldn’t have been too hard to figure out — ‘vehicular cancer’ doesn’t make much sense. And ‘testicular homicide’… well, that’s just silly. Not because such a thing couldn’t happen, of course. But if it did, clearly it would be called ‘death by testes’. Much catchier. And shorter. It just makes sense.
For those who are wondering, I never had the same linguistic switchery happen with ‘vaginal’. Maybe there just aren’t many words that sound like ‘vaginal’. Or maybe it just never came up in conversation much — clearly, that wasn’t a concept that I had much experience with during my early, formative, and more easily confused years. Obsessed with? Sometimes. Experienced with? No. Sadly, no.
If it’s any consolation, though, I did have trouble for a while keeping ‘clitoris’ straight from ‘Lavoris’, which is the mouthwash brand my grandfather uses. You can no doubt imagine what a confusing childhood I had. I had a whole other thing in mind about what ‘minty fresh breath’ entails. And boy, was I ever surprised to find out the truth. Twice. I’ll never look at dental hygeine quite the same way again.
Permalink | 1 CommentHappy Friday, boys and girls. I hope you’ve got your funny bones all rubbed down and warmed up, and.. um, dude. That’s not your ‘funny’ bone. Put that thing away before you put someone’s eye out. Perv.
Anyway, it’s time for this week’s installation of ‘Punchline Fever‘. And I’ve got some serious sleepin’ to do soon, so let’s get this show rolling down the avenue, Chachi. First, the rules:
1) I’ll sit around, day and night, thinking of a short but flexible setup for a joke.
B) I’ll post the best setup I can think of, but with a blank where the punchline should go.
iii) Then it’s up to you to come up with your best line, and leave it in the comments, for all to snicker over.
That’s all you need to know, people. Now hop in there, and get yo’ freaky fever on!
Punchline Fever #17:
‘In the news this week, there was a story about a brilliant dog from Germany that knows over 200 words. Nice. Well, I’ve got a dog, too, but she’s not nearly so bright. My dog only seems to recognize six not-so-very-useful words: _______________________________‘
There you go, my bloggy brethren. And, um, brethrettes. Or, uh, whatever. Anyway, that’s the ticket for this week. Get in there and give ’em hell, people. Rock on.
Permalink | 12 CommentsWell, shit on a Chiclet, people — I didn’t expect that.
Seriously. I thought I was just writing a whimsical little ditty about phone screening. But a handful of people were nice enough to take the time to comment, and all of them (or ‘one of you’, if you’re on the list) wanted to know about the job.
(Yeah, sure, I know — I did call on people to reach out and get their resumes in. But how the hell could I know people would take me vaguely seriously? I mean, it’s never happened before. Hell, I had to propose to my wife six times before she decided I meant it. Who knew?)
Anyway, just to satisfy your curiousity (not to mention my word quota for tonight’s post), here’s the actual job listing that I’m hiring for… with my own comments in parentheses. You just knew I couldn’t resist a few sets of parentheses, didn’t you?
Position Description:
The candidate will produce designs and code to satisfy user needs within the (<name removed to cover my sorry ass>) group. Initial assignments will concentrate on our SNP discovery work, specifically handling complex strategic reporting and sequencing pipeline assignments. (Sadly — and much to my own initial chagrin — ‘SNP’ does not, in fact, stand for ‘Sorority Nipple Parties’. So yeah, I was pretty disappointed, too.)
The candidate must be comfortable with the molecular biology domain, including sequencing pipelines and genotyping pipelines. (And don’t forget the ‘kissing my ass’ pipeline. Once we build it, of course.)
S/he must have a proven track record of successful delivery of accurate product and application deliverables in an intense work environment. (I’m not exactly sure what an ‘intense work environment’ entails. But I assure you that in our office, we hardly ever work with guns pointed at our heads, or fat guys sitting on us, or rabid Bengali tigers chasing us down the hall. Sometimes the fat guy in the corner office chases us down the hall, but he’s relatively harmless. And he never has a gun. Almost never, anyway.)
In the (<again, name removed, in the interest of my own self-preservation>) group, employees are responsible for proactively gathering requirements, writing specifications, creating designs, and delivering production quality code. In other words, this is not a position where the developer will be handed a detailed spec to code — the developer must proactively seek out and collaborate with users in order to rapidly produce the desired deliverables. (In other words… here’s your desk. Good luck, there, cupcake.)
Position Duties
QUALIFICATIONS
So, there you have it, all you interested parties. I can almost hear the flood of resumes surging my way right now. Get ’em in quick to avoid the rush, folks. And remember — a couple of twenties paper-clipped to the cover letter goes a long way further than actually meeting any of those pesky requirement thingies. Man, maybe this hiring business isn’t so bad, after all.
Permalink | 1 CommentSo, my office is hiring right now.
(Yes, that’s right, folks — get those resumes in here. Applicants should be enthusiastic, bright, well organized, and ready to kiss my ass like it was covered in strawberry frosting. Which it sometimes is, but that’s probably not relevant right now.)
Anyway, we’ve got an open position around the old workplace, and I’ve been saddled with the responsibility of making the first cuts in the field of hopefuls. This time around, that involves phone screening a half dozen people or more.
Yes, phone screening. The bastard child of the interview process. Phone screens are to actually hiring an employee as copping a feel on a crowded bus is to a big church wedding. It’s a crock.
And the worst part is, you can’t really gauge a person from a phone interview. I mean, how am I supposed to tell whether the person will fit in if I can’t see their reactions? The look of horror when I describe the working conditions… the nauseated snarl when I go over the salary and benefits… the cackling grin when I slip a joke in among the interview questions… these are important details, dammit!
(Oh. No, wait. I think I mixed up the reactions and the stimuli there — I think the cackles are for the salary, and the working conditions usually get the snarl. That would leave the nausea for my jokes. Yeah, that’s about right. Bitches.)
So, I’ve got to figure out some way to separate the wheat from the chaff without actually being able to see these people. It’s tough — they’ve all got roughly the same skills, and experience, and they all tell me pretty much what I want to hear… I feel like I’m not ‘screening’, per se; I’m really just spending half-hour chunks of my life talking about work while trying not to cry. I suppose it’s good practice for when I see my family over Christmas break, but I’m not sure I’m accomplishing anything useful.
Oh, well. I guess I’ll just bring all these people in, and talk to them in person. Then I’ll be able to figure out whether any of them can make it in our office. And more importantly, whether any of them can whip out a convincing fake laugh when I tell a joke. Oh, yeah. That‘ll get you an offer. Pucker up, baby.
Permalink | 5 CommentsYou know, it’s bad enough that songs often pop into my head, and I’m stuck humming or singing them all day, whether I want to or not.
But is it really fair that one of the ‘heavy rotation’ songs is that damned ‘Monchichi — Mon-chi-chi!‘ jingle from years and years ago?
Honestly, could I really have done something bad enough to deserve this? Isn’t this shit saved for, like, baby seal clubbers and Charles Manson, and… I dunno, Fran Drescher, maybe? Have I really sunk so low?
*sigh*
That’s all for now. Sorry if it’s running through your head now, too. Welcome to my nightmare. ‘Monchichi, Mon-chi-chi!‘
Permalink | 13 Comments