Resolution

Mr Baskerville has made some resolutions for 2011.

Do not drink so much, at least while at work
Find a new job
Stop being so sarcastic
Develop some useful skills (at present Mr B is like a hand-loom weaver in the Industrial Revolution)
Find a new job
Pay more attention to detail at wor - oooh, shiny
Blog more frequently
Find a new job
Tell the publisher what he thinks of her
Apply for EI
Sleep on friend's floors, sofas, the park...

How likely is it that Mr B will actually stick to any of these?

Crisis!

Massive fuck-up today...Mr Baskerville  put the wrong folios on EVERY SINGLE PAGE!!! Ooops. He was confused by all the early deadlines, that's his excuse.

So, he is sending all the pages again! Perhaps it is just as well that his job is moving to the Philippines, as he is clearly incompetent.

He would like a new career. By next week, if at all possible.

Presents of Mind

It is the festive season here at Mr Baskerville's office. This basically means that now everyone else is drinking at lunchtime, which is fine with Mr B. He will wave goodbye to his job, which is moving to sunnier climes, in a haze of bellinis and wine.

It is also the season of cutbacks. The HR department sent e-christmas cards this year. HR is evidently carefully monitoring time, and absolutely no time at all was spent in designing this card.

The publisher where Mr B works is even more conscientious. She wasted no time at all, but simply forwarded a festive e-card which she had received from an Oil and Gas company.

It is also the season of gift-giving, which, in a just and fair world, would also mean gift-receiving. Mr B rushed out at the last possible moment and purchased a 'lovely' gift from the Sale table for the person he works (and I use the word in it's loosest sense) with. There was a time limit, as this person was leaving for their vacation the next day and Mr B wanted to allow time for her to reciprocate. This morning he received: a candy cane.

Merry Fucking Christmas, company.

A Rare Post

Happy Christmas to me! I got a job, yep. This is a positive, happy post. Some may say a 'boring' post.

Stay tuned for disgruntled updates from NEW JOB!

Focus is so Importan... ooh, shiny!

Since finding out his job is about to go on vacation to sunny tropical parts with cheap labour, Mr Baskerville has had real problems concentrating at work.

In one week, he sent a colour page to press with all the ads on the wrong side of the page. Oops. He also fucked up the calendar.

And he really doesn't give a shit.

degree, schmagree

Very important things pop up, and need to be done right away, when I am trying to study for an exam. Here are some things that urgently needed to be done:

- Christmas card writing
- plucking of eyebrows
- tending to Roxanne
- shaving legs
- cleaning closet
- washing windows
- cooking real meals
- wrapping presents
- printing of photos (for christmas cards)
- organizing tupperware
- skyping long-distance friends
- reading random blogs on internet
- facebook, oh facebook
- you tubing cartoons from childhood
- watching important tv
- organizing files on my computer

Holiday in Cambodia

...or at least Manilla.

Today, Mr Baskerville was informed via 'web-conference' that his job will be outsourced to the Philipines...at some indeterminate future time. Could be next year, could be tomorrow. Better take back that 72" TV!

Shortly after this, the publisher (wordscramble: ankerw) asked him why no one from the production department was attending the work Christmas "party"!

Luckily, words failed him.

Rad Sends Important Message

Sometimes my radiator talks to me. I think Rad is trying to tell me something important, but I am unable to understand. This may sound odd, until you realize your radiator also speaks to you. Late at night, when all is quiet, Rad first starts humming, knocking, and clicking, then slowly the words come out. Lately Rad has been repeating these words. I am trying to decode the message.

1. hooooooome, or whoooooooore, or hooooooooooo

2. noooo, nooooone

3. ooze, loose, or booze.

4. ahhhhhhh, blaaaaah, glaaaaaa

Oh, I Want You So Bad

As you know, I have been trying this online dating thing. It is weird. I have had no success. What I don't understand is men's choice of photos (or lack of photos) they choose to upload.

Why would you choose a photo of you surrounded by beautiful (beer rep) women, wearing almost nothing, looking like you are at the best party ever? Is that supposed to make me want you? I know they are only pretending to like you, it's their fucking job!

Also, loads of men don't upload photos. This is a red flag for me. Is it cause they don't want to get caught by their wives? One guy (with no photo) claims that his best trait is 'openness, honesty, I am like an open book'. I beg to differ.

Photos of men holding gynormous fish they caught, is not sexy. Let me clarify, is not sexy to women, it may be sexy to other men.

Things I Hate Part I

- When people update their facebook statuses(sp?) every 5 minutes about the stupid, mundane, boring shite they are doing. And how their life is the GREATEST!

- The smell of garbage and wet socks.

- When people don't email me for weeks/months and then pretend that it was me who have stopped communicating. 'I haven't heard from you in sooooooo long'. Nice try. I am on top of things like this.

- Cold feet.

- When profs mark papers and just give you a grade... with nothing else. Surely the purpose of writing papers, and having them graded, is to become a better writer.

- Cold hands.

- When people (I don't know) tell me how busy they are. Yes, you're very important, and I am less important... Congratulations, you win. Can we move forward?

- Leopard print things.

- When people 'tag' me in ugly facebook photos, then, after I have untagged myself, they ask why. You just want me to say it out loud. Yes, I am ugly, you are beautiful. Congratulations, you win! Can we move forward?

- The man from the bank who keeps calling me. My sister is going to get you fired, you asshole!

- People who start sentences with 'I don't mean to be rude, but....' Wankers.

- Bus drivers who shut the door in my face and drive away.

- When people call me 'dude'. A dude, I am not.

- The word 'panties'. Oh geez, I even hate typing it.


This by no means is an exhaustive list. There are many things I hate. I also love some things, but that is less interesting to write about.

Would you retire if...

There are loads of practice interview questions and suggested answers on the world wide web (who knew?). I have been studying them. I found one that I found particularly humorous.

'If you won multi-millions in the lottery, would you retire right away?'

Now, surely this has to be a trick question. Who in their right mind would consider still working at their mind-numbing 9-5, if given millions?

The advice states to explain the interviewer, of course you would still work, because you are passionate about your job, you love the organization, you are fulfilled by work (see blog title), etc, etc. I just could not do this with a straight face. I am all for bending the truth for interviews, but this is stretching just a little too far.

Here's another idea for an answer to that question:

'No, I would quit, on the spot, without any notice, and I wouldn't bother calling, cause, why should I? If I feel the 'need' to work, surely I can find something more suited to what I actually care about and what I like to do. And if not, perhaps I will toss some money around, give to charity, buy my friends a bunch of crap, take everyone I like on an exotic trip to hawaii, etc. Maybe I would even buy this organization, fire everyone, then sell it for a profit! HA! Please don't look at me like that, are you so inspired by your HR job, that you'd stay?'

Wino

Mr Baskerville just refilled his glass of wine, then pissed about on the internet for a while, forgot he'd filled his glass to the brim and promptly slopped wine all over his laptop.

He is now licking the keyboard.

Career Advice Part II

• Do not take two sabbaticals in one year. Your boss may think you are not serious about your job.

• If you have a telephone interview, buy beer, and drink it while you have the interview.

• Do not make out with anyone from work (it never works out the way you think it will). And everyone remembers everything*.

• Try on your interview outfit a couple of days before an interview. You may have bought a slutty short dress by accident because you were so excited something fit!


* No, Mr B, I did not make out with anyone from my most recent job. That would be unprofessional.

Career Advice

Because he is both generous and bored, Mr Baskerville would like to share the extensive knowledge he has gleaned in his long years working in the print industry. He hopes it will help anyone looking to emulate his stellar career.

• Do not attend an interview after smoking a spliff
• Vodka and orange is a perfectly acceptable lunch
• The client is almost never right
• Dot gain can explain all mistakes
• Always exaggerate the time even the simplest project will take, so you can piss about and go out for coffee/drinks without worrying about deadlines
• Always dress appropriately (ie no pyjamas)
• Try to develop a tropical disease, so it can 'flare up' when you need a sickie
• Pretend you love your boss's dog, even though it stinks like poo
• Develop a hobby you can pursue at work (learning a language, reading all the Classics, write a novel)
• Do not blog at work when the publisher is standing behind you

Mr B would be grateful for any advice his reader may offer, as he's always looking to climb that career ladder.

Tyop, redux

Today Mr Baskerville was on the phone to a client, making corrections directly to an ad. He was tired, and frankly, not feeling the love for work. One of the corrections was to change a set of initials.  It was noisy in the office, and he could not hear very well, so requested verification for the edit.

Mr B: S for Sugar?

Client: No, (mumble)

Mr B: F? F for Fuck You?

Client:......ah, yes.

Seriously, that was the only word Mr B could think of beginning with F. Clearly, Mr B is F-d.

I'm too sexy for Hallowe'en

I am googling ideas for hallowe'en costumes. There sure are lots of 'sexy' costumes out there. But I just do not feel comfortable showing up to a party as a:

school girl
Heidi
kitten
genie
playboy bunny
sexy prisoner ? huh?
naughty nurse
cheerleader
ms. claus
someone carrying a whip, cuffs, sword, etc.
candy striper
stripper

What I really want to do is wear a box, so just my head pops out of the top and my legs out the bottom.

I could also be a bag of garbage. So instead of wearing a big box, I would wear a garbage bag and stuff it with paper.

Sexy? I think so. Whatever happened to leaving something to the imagination?

I am encouraging more ideas for my costume. The theme is FREE and EASY. (Not me, my costume).

The Big Chill

If coming into work on Monday morning wasn't bad enough, today the furnace is not working. Our glorious leader may have forgotten to pay the heating bill, or perhaps this is simply another cutback.

Mr Baskerville is an ice cube.

It is very difficult to type or manipulate a mouse while wearing gloves. It took 2 hours to make this posting.

My Head is Full

A crazy week, with lots of information crammed in (in a good way). My head is full. I couldn't even nap today because my head wouldn't let me.

Friends

is on so much during the day and night!

Obscura

Mr Baskerville received this email early this morning, in regard to a body-painted woman about to appear in the newspaper:

"Can you Photoshop Ms XX's nipples into obscurity? Especially the piercings"

Mr Baskerville was then forced to send this email:

"Shall I obscure the aureola as well?"

He then spent the next half hour with a pair of breasts filling his screen. It was discomboobulating.

I am very mature.

And no, I haven't heard of 'night soil' either.

Sleep

I used to be good at it. Now I am not. Perhaps doing nothing all day is just not tiring me out enough to get to sleep at night. Nothing is on TV at 12:45 AM.

Long Week

Still unemployed, still failing my course.

Revenge!!!

Today Mr Baskerville managed to disconcert one of his arch-enemies.

When asked if the production department could make hyperlinks from ads to client's websites, Mr B was able to say, very cheerfully, that Mrs Eaves was the only one of us who knew how to do that.

The arch-enemy scurried from the department

Where is Mr. B?

Oldies

As soon as one is passed age 30, it’s tough. Things change very fast. I have recently noticed some funny comments that either I, or a friend, in my presence, have said. If we were caught saying such things, a couple of years ago, we would be the source of much ridicule. But now that we are oldies….

“Please slow down, I can’t walk that fast, my back is sore.”

“I can’t wear normal shoes. They provide no support.”

(After eating pizza and drinking a couple of beers) “I have major gas, my stomach is killing me. Do you have any antacids?”

“What? We have to walk over the bridge?”

Please add in your comments, don’t pretend you don’t have any.

Failure

I am unemployed and I failed my first paper. How is this possible? I have never failed an assignment before.
boo hoo.

Sad

It is horrible
now Mrs Eaves is not here.
Too poo to haiku.

Like a Cat

Napping is not new to me, but I have discovered a new and better way to do it. Yesterday, I working on my computer and I started getting chilly. I went into my bedroom to get a blanket, only to notice a large sun patch on my bed. Perhaps it is because I have been napping at the wrong time, or maybe because the sun rarely shines, I have never seen a sun patch on my bed. I promptly laid in the sun patch, to warm up. Two hours later, I woke up.

Professional

Mr Baskerville today sent an important email to a new client, cc-ing his nemesis. He was polite, it was spelled correctly, and he thought he'd successfully proved that he does actually know how to do this job.

However, he forgot the attachment. Fuck, fuckity fuck.

Alarm Clock Blues

I have to set the alarm for tomorrow morning. It's been weeks since I set the alarm. How will I function properly without 10 hours of sleep?

Too Much?

Dent

I think there's a dent in my futon/couch from my ass. I realized yesterday, that I do all my 'work' from that one spot. So I moved my ass to the other side of the couch. It felt weird.

Blunt

We all miss Mrs Eaves here in production. We miss her so much.

She stole the only pencil sharpener in the building.

communication is a four letter word

Mr Baskerville is back at work after an extended road trip. Work is almost unbearable now Mrs Eaves is not here.

Loyal reader will know that Mr B and Mrs E's nemesis, who will now simply be referred to as Queen Cnut, could not even manage a piss-up in a brewery. Mr B had barely sat down this morning before discovering:

the deadline for Thursday's paper has been changed.  Queen Cnut recently sacked the production manager, but apparently did not think to ensure the production department was informed of the earlier deadline.

the page size of our paper will soon be changed. Queen Cnut evidently assumes all one has to do to alter 83 templates is press a couple of buttons and we're good to go.

all the ad sizes will now be wrong.

that is all, but it's only Monday. Who knows what joyful discoveries we'll make tomorrow!

Mr Baskerville needs a Vegas-style takeaway cocktail. ASAP. In a pint glass.

SKOOL

I wanna go back. Is there a way to become a professional student?

♥

The ♥ symbol makes me happy. It's so cute. I also like ☠.
I smell Charlie.

I Smell Charlie

There is a local skunk in my neighbourhood. His name is Charlie. I meet up with him in the alley a couple of times a week. But I can smell him every night. From 9pm-ish until I go to sleep, I smell him in varying degrees. I assume I still smell him in my sleep, but I am not conscious, so I don't know for sure. Sometimes the smell is so strong, I think that Charlie may be in my apartment, in a kitchen cupboard.

Recently, I have started to smell him in the (late) mornings when I get up. I am worried that Charlie is becoming domesticated and loosing his nocturnal instinct.

In case Mr B has forgotten what I look like, I have posted a recent pic.

I ♥ Not Working Part II

Today I bought two dresses.
One dress was: $4.24
the other dress was: $3.11
How would I find time for this kind of budget shopping if I was working full time?

I ♥ Not Working

Today I woke up at 10am, met a friend for coffee, which was followed by lunch, and then a beer in the sun. Then came home, napped until about 6-ish, applied to a couple of jobs, then watched a movie. Am exhausted now, the stress of it all!

who needs Freud

Never mind the code...whilst walking through the maze of crazy, tacky and yet exceedingly fun casinos, Mr Baskerville's companion was commenting on the dichotomy of camping in national parks then suddenly arriving in Vegas. However, a very well endowed woman approached during this conversation, so Mr B's companion said, quite loudly, how discomboobulating it all was.

Mr B, who had a cocktail by then, laughed like an idiot.

Road Trip minutiae

so far on this road trip, Mr Baskerville has seen:

mice
random scampering creatures
a condor
a tarantula
a snake (not trouser)
a moth

He only screamed like a girl at one of these things. Can you guess which? Fabulous prize if you do!

Also, he got heat exhaustion in the desert, and destroyed a hiking boot, because he is so fucking extreme.

He is now in Vegas, therefore cannot post more, due to the code.

Dear Mr Baskerville

I hope you're having a great trip and all that shite. But I miss you.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Eaves

Dear HR Woman

Stop calling me and leaving me voicemails. I hate you.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Eaves

Dear Mr. Lawyer Man

I am sorry for snapping at you for googling something while I was in your office yesterday. But you see, I have google at home, and well, my hourly rate is a lot less than yours.

There was no reason to clarify over and over again that your boss comes up with an hourly rate, and it's not all for you. I know you are rich, you know I am unemployed, it's all good.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Eaves

PS: I stole your pen, but not on purpose. I don't even like using pens.

PSS: You had lovely, sparkly green eyes, but I wanted to untuck your shirt and mess up your hair.

Men ♥ Unemployed Women

In an interesting turn of events, the inbox on my online dating site, has filled up. Suddenly everyone wants a piece of Mrs. Eaves. I really don't blame them, but why now? Of course, if we go on a date, dinner is on YOU. And we are NOT going to BurgerVille.

What will they do when they find out I am unemployed?

Dear Mr. Gov't Man

I am sorry for crying in your face today, and slamming your pencil on the counter. I have my period and you kinda looked like my ex-boyfriend.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Eaves

I am extra weird

If it is possible at all, I have turned even weirder. Yesterday, I decided to cook one of those boxes of flavoured rice... you know, add some water, boil, stir, and you're done. I read the instructions about 4 times and I still made it wrong! I added too much water and did not sautée the rice first. And since when does one have to sautee the rice?

Today, I turned on channel 2, the scrolling words, to see what was on TV. 13 minutes later, I realized I was still watching channel 2. I was looking at the screen, not doing anything else. It's actually quite a good show.

I am weird.

Road Trip

Mr Baskerville is on a road trip. He is outraged about Mrs Eaves' work situation. Well, outraged isn't the right word. Disgusted, appalled, sickened, insane with rage...all of these, and more. If he even thinks of the publisher, he is liable to have a heart attack. the cnut.

anyway, road trip. so far: hours of driving compared with minutes of drinking. not his favourite proportion, but kids, don't drink and drive!

So far, Mr B has seen: an entire, decapitated, deer's head (complete with antlers) tied to the roof of a redneck's truck; a warehouse full of guns; a huge wind farm; an enormously long train; a llama; AND BEER IN SUPERMARKETS!!!!

Who's Hiring?

I need a job.

Bearfriend

I need a bearfriend.

Fuckwits

Bloody buggering bollocks.

Man vs. Bear

I think having a bear could be better than having a man, and this is why:

• Bears love to sleep, especially in winter.
• Bears like to eat, and so do I.
• We could walk in the woods together, and bear would protect me from men.
• Bear would let me paint it's claws with pink nail polish.
• Bear could do housework while I am at work.
• I could read to bear, and it would be romantic.
• Bear could teach me new skills; hunting, eating berries, growling, clawing, etc.
• I could teach bear new skills: how to get into bear proof garbages, how to identify a trap, etc.
• We could have picnics and prevent forest fires together.

One thing concerns me. Perhaps Mr. Baskerville can help me with this. Mr. B, do bears have soft lips?

Only Wednesday

Dread has now become a continuous state of being for me. I now lack the motivation or creativity to post. I just don’t have anything to say. Sad, sad times.

4:05 PM

This is the time that I will start to drink today. Bad day. Or was it a good day? They are all moulding into one big, long, sad day.

Full Circle

I am very sad to announce that my job now has just become EXACTLY the same as the first job I had fresh out of college. This means for eight years, I have had the same job, learning no new skills, no higher on the ladder. I am totally screwed. Who would higher me?

A New Low

Mr Baskerville is about to quit work.

No tea, no milk and now...no water! We cannot flush. Argh.

Pass the barf bag, please

I feel nauseous. In fact, I just threw up a bit in my mouth.
Mr B is kissing ass like you wouldn’t believe.

But, well done, Mr B. You do what you gotta do.

Rejected

Mr Baskerville has just had a horrible shock. The newspaper he 'works' for has created a Facebook site, and although his co-workers have been friended, he has not!

Is this a sign that a pink slip is approaching? Should he start looking for work? Should he maybe start doing actual work now, instead of posting?

He is reeling from this rejection, and can only think about beer.

Things are looking up

I would like to announce that I have received the cheque, mentioned in an earlier post, today!
The client said she sent the cheque on June 4, and it arrived on August 24. I conclude that it takes 11 weeks for a piece of mail to make it from Burnaby to Vancouver.

I will promptly spend my earnings at the same establishment that issued my cheque. If I properly new what ironic meant, I may have or may have not used it in the following sentence. I am drunk.

Ruralizing

Mr Baskerville has been in the country for a few days. He learned various things during his sojouorn:

1) the country smells of poo
2) people in small towns loooooooove to talk about the weather
3) there are no Starbucks
4) horses have very soft lips (not as dodgy as it sounds, that one...)

it is also ideal for napping.

A New Low

Mrs Eaves just caught herself on YouTube. If that wasn't bad enough, she then caught herself typing in 'baby panda' and proceeding to watch numerous videos.

Two conclusions can be made.

1. Baby pandas are very sweet.
2. Mrs E has hit a new low.

Unbelievable

I am shocked to find there is no positing from Mr B after the day we've had.

5

more minutes.

ennui pt II

Mister Baskerville
yawns, would like to nap and is
too bored to haiku

3

The number of jobs I have applied to today while at work.

Busted

I was just busted printing off my resumé at work. I did not time the printing well. But the good news is, I have applied to one job today, and it’s only 9:05am! If I am going down, I am going down prepared.

abbreviated haiku

WTF,
OMFG, LOL!
I heart TLAs

apathetic haiku

ennui, apathy,
mind-numbing tedium: O
I must take a nap

Holiday

No one cares about your holiday, so shut it.

Mr. B, we have a problem

I am so bored and uninspired that I can't even write an entry.

QUIZ - The Cheque is in the Mail

A client of mine who owes me money told me on July 5, 2010 that 'the cheque is in the mail'. Then again, upon follow-up, on August 4, 2010, 'the cheque is in the mail'.

What day will I actually receive the cheque?

HINT: The distance between the client and I is 10-15km.

Tightarse Publisher

The publisher here has now cancelled our milk and tea. Tea!!! Mr Baskerville cannot work without tea.

If they really wanted to save money here, they'd cancel the publisher.

Mr B is pissed off...and thirsty.

drunken haiku

Haiku! Sounds like sneeze:
but very complicated
use of thesaurus

Looking for lurve

I am requesting any helpful hints, from all of our readers, about how I can find a lovely man. And by lovely, I mean a man without strange 'grooming' requests.
Thank you in advance!

Nice try, Mr. B

Mr. B just emailed me asking if he should open another bottle of wine, or have a cup of tea instead. He asked that I advice ASAP. Nice try, Mr B, I know you already opened it, and have consumed at least half the bottle by now.

Mr B, should I eat more candy or grab a mushy red apple instead?

Untimely

A fly has just drowned in Mr Baskerville's wine. What a way to go. Mr B would be glad to die so well, doing what he loves.

Don't Eat Poo

WARNING: If you eat dog poo, even by accident, you run the risk of acquiring parasites. You run this risk if you eat human poo as well.

disgrunteld haiku

Financial cutbacks:
other people's teethmarks on
recycled pencils

Who knew?

Brazilian is not a language. They don't speak Brazilian in Brazil.
Mrs Eaves has a lot of reading to do tonight.

Quiz

Bored or pissed off at work today? Mr Baskerville has prepared a quiz to enliven your day.

Below are some of the things Mr B has done while at work. Scarily, only ONE of them is false. Which one?


a) mastered the Art of Starbursts

b) planned a trans-Asia road trip

c) created 73 templates for one crappy newspaper

d) read War and Peace

e) won an award

f) drunk gallons of tea

g) found the perfect chocolate-chip cookie recipe

h) learned Russian


A fabulous prize is available for the winner! Enter today, you won't be disappointed!!

I am back, here I am

Things I was doing while I was away:
Napping
Drinking
Eating
Watching TV
Planning how to get loads of money fast
Trying to learn how to sleep with my eyes open
Trying to laugh often and really loud at work
Trying, unsuccessfully, to start my second career

Crappy Mondays

Mr Baskerville is having a crappy Monday. 

He and his department were recently told off for laughing. The publisher seems to think that we are incapable of slapping a starburst into an ad while having a laugh. Mind you, the publisher would be hard pressed to walk and chew gum simultaneously.

And to think, Mr B very nearly called in sick this morning but was prevented by a sense of duty. He'll never rmake that mistake again.

Lazy bastards

Mr B would like to apologize to his loyal reader for being such a lazy bastard. He'll post more frequently if he ever has anything interesting to say, so don't hold your breath.

Pass the cookies, please

The sound of news on the TV at work is making Mrs. E hungry and sad.

Zen, part 1

Mr Baskverville thinks he is coping with this Zen thing quite well.

He was walking home from work yesterday, reading a book, as you do. The library is on his route, and he wanted to finish the book so he could return it. He was, therefore, reading quickly and walking slowly, through a nice park.

He returned the book, wondered round the supermarket, paid, and only when he was in the street out side did he realise that during his peregrinations he had been shat upon by a small bird.

Does the fact that this still makes him laugh mean he has attained a state of zen???

Missing

Where the merry fuck are you, Mrs Eaves?

Zen and the Art of Newspaper Publishing

Mr Baskerville has recently been contemplating Zen. He would love to be able to come to work without, almost immediately, wanting either a drink or to throw a pencil at someone. A state of calm serenity has hitherto only been available to him via chemistry.

So he is going to try to cultivate a state of 'zen-ness'... see, he is already so zen he does not feel the need to look up the correct word.

Way to go, Mr B.

He still quite fancies a drink, though.

FAKE ADS

The 'news'paper Mr Baskerville works for is currently running a contest in a desperate attempt to increase readership. And hopefully prevent Mr B's job being outsourced to India.

This contest involves running fake ads in the paper for readers to identify and win prizes. A cunning plan to make them actually look at the ads, we thought. Genius!

Last week we ran an ad for a fake restaurant, which included the line '50% off or half price, whichever is cheaper'.

So far, 13 people have called reception to make a reservation.

Additionally, 3 totally non-fake ads have been identified as being fake - probably due to the egregious use of starbursts.

Mr B's favourite: one charity filler was accused of being  fake.

Mr B wants to run a Ski Narnia ad next. He fully expects to field calls from winter sports fans.

Spew

Mr Baskerville was just eating lunch at his desk (tuna melt, thanks for asking) when he was approached by a Salesperson.

"Oh are you having lunch?" was the question from this graduate of the University of Thick.

"Mnom mnnn" said Mr B, unwilling to spit crumbs on a co-worker, however much they annoy him.

Then the Salesperson proceeded to tell Mr B all about the changes he needed Mr B to make, in great detail.

WTF???

Naturally, Mr B will get right on those changes.

Yaaaaar!

Mr Baskerville recently watched the movie “Legion”, which fell off the back of the internet into his computer. Unsubtle on the religious symbolism, but redeemed by tattoos, machine guns and explosions.

Hollywood has evidently changed, as the good guy was played by an English actor…at least Mr Baskerville thinks so, because the final 10 minutes of the movie were, inexplicably, dubbed into Russian.

Piracy is, indeed, destroying the film industry.

Mr B is confused.

Might as well have used Hobo...

Mr Baskerville apologises for the long delay in posting. He does not want to disappoint his reader, so endeavours to post more frequently.

Mr B recently watched the movie Avatar. It was ok - pretty cheesy but Mr B is as fond of cheese as the next Dr Who fan. Predictable story but gussied up in lovely FX.

However (and there had to be a however, clearly...) WTF is with the egregious use of Papyrus?!  Whatsisname Cameron spent at least five trillion dollars making the movie, but couldn't employ someone (and Mr B would've done it cheap) to design a unique font?

Papyrus. Feh.