My Monkey Is Naked

No, seriously.

A court reporting service brought us these little bean bag animals with t-shirts on them to pimp their service. My monkey lost his shirt. He's naked and sitting on my computer monitor. I wish I could get him to throw poo at people.

Which brings me to today's work related grr. One I can actually write about for a change.

When one of our employees goes away to have a critter, why - OH WHY - must we send out an e-mail announcing the birth of said critter?

As a co-worker of that person, if I were truly interested in this knowledge - wouldn't I be privy to it through outside personal exchanges already?

And for the love of all that is loveable, stop with the statistics already. I don't want to know how frigging long it is **, how much it weighed or what fantastically difficult name it's going to carry through its life. Or that mom dad and baby are doing just fine. I'm pretty sure I can figure that one out on my own. I mean really. When has a blanket announcement of a birth been given wherein any one of the family has suffered irreversible damage as a result?

Exactly.

Here's an idea. Let people access their personal on-line e-mail for five minutes a day instead of blocking it entirely with some technological web Nazi. That way should employees be interested in this useless information, they can get it without bothering me. And can I just tell you how much I hate the "Critter's first sneeze" pictures and stories that inevitably follow? After all, if the corporation sanctions announcement, it must think those are dandy too!

My monkey just scratched his ass. I hope management announces that.

**Unless, of course, we are talking about the penises in the office. And I've already got a pretty good idea as to who has one worth talking about anyway - due to the fact that 1) C's is the only one I'm even interested in here and 2) the jackass ratio can pretty much tell me what some guy is or is not carrying in his britches.