10.13.2006

Nothing Runs Like Cement Batter

Last night, I was over at Marc's house helping him rebuild his house after we tore it down. (Of course, I keep telling him that if he hadn't torn all the walls and floors out, we wouldn't have to do all this work to put them back in!) Marc's project last night was putting in the bathroom floor so we needed cement. After putting in one bag, Marc realized that his two bags of cement weren't enough. He went to buy more and my job was to mix the final bag and apply it to the floor.

Now, let me take a brief pause in the narrative. I am not what one would call "Handy." I am not much a construction guy or carpenter or anything. My family probably reads about me helping Marc and say a little prayer that his house stays together. (In fact, when my sister heard of last night's work, she said, "I can't believe anyone would trust you with concrete!") Don't get me wrong: I work hard. I am pseudo-competent. But growing up, I was helping mom bake more than I was outside doing house or farm work. And that's exactly where we pick up the narrative....

When Marc and I were mixing concrete together, one of us would hold the mixer into the bucket while the other poured in the mix. By myself, I had to pour in the mix...and then stick in the mixer. I didn't think about mixing a little at a time. The result was that by the time I started mixing the concrete and water, the mixer wouldn't even go into the thick mixture. And when it did, it wouldn't turn. And then this here Momma's Boy got smart. I remembered the same thing happening when I bake cookies: the beaters not being able to turn because the dough is too thick. So, applying that experience, I started at the top slowly and worked down. Before I knew it, I had a lovely smooth batter of concrete.

While this really wasn't that much of an accomplishment, I bet I am one of the first people to ever make use of baking skills in carpentry. And I even licked the beater.

A Hole in One While Taking a Number Two
Our office has a storeroom downstairs. There's shelf after shelf of boxes, files and unused office equipment. And then, there's The Potty Putter. Oh yes, The Potty Putter. Among all the boring files, there's one shelf in the back that belongs to the advertising department. On it, are two cowboy hats and a box that claims to be a "game for the avid golfer."

The box doesn't seem to know how ridiculous it is. It seems to take itself very seriously. (And is apparently "as Seen on TV!"). Despite the seriousness, it also has a man sitting on the pot--trousers down--making a putt.

It's not for me to speculate on why this is in our office storeroom. But let me just say that I am proud to work for an organization that has this in the storeroom. And I will now look very carefully under every stall door when I go to the bathroom. Someday, I am sure I will see a little red hole flag sticking up. I will know that inside that stall, someone is wearing a cowboy hat and improving their short game. And then I will think, "This is the greatest job ever."

PTOIT SPECIAL FEATURE: Quotes of the Week!
"Yum Yum sauce is appropriately named. Yum Yum!" - Doug F. after a weekend of Chinese food.

"I feel like I am sitting in a garden." --Our editorial coordinator Marilyn after recieiving many flowers at work for her birthday.

"They are talking about dogs!" -Marilyn again in reaction to two co-workers who were gushing for about 15 minutes about how cute somebody looked in a Halloween costume.

"You taste like fish bisquits." -Kate on LOST.

"I want to become eccentric enough to wear a newsboy hat - and not in the cool Samuel L. Jackson Kangol backwards style, but fowards. I think that's my goal for the next 10 years - just to become more and more eccentric until some synonym of the word "crazy" is asociated with my name. Like "Crazy Old Miller," "Loony Bin Marc." -Marc

3 comments:

the todd said...

Oh no, my friend. I am fairly certain that is a full box laying in the storeroom.

the dreamer said...

Friends ...
It's storytime.

Once upon a time, a short red-headed girl right outta college was desperate for a full-time job. When she became the production coordinator in Advertising, she realized the fun and frivolity of the dept. was mostly of the "oldER people" sort. And while she heavily relied on IM, e-mail, and visits from younger, cooler co-workers to get her through those years, the middle-aged ad execs did have their moments.

Many of these moments came at Linda Schambach's famous dept. Christmas party. (Note: no matter what you think of when you think of Linda [wig? painted on makeup? fake tan?], the lady can cook.) One tradition at the annual, semi-fancy affair was the white elephant gift exchange. And let's just say it's the white elephant that gave birth to the potty potter, which, from what I understand, was re-gifted every year for several years.

That said, I'm trying to remember the original ad exec who gave it ... or got it. I'm thinking it was Tim Platek who gave it? Or got it? He was involved in some way. Which makes sense if you knew him.

So now, questions: Will the potty putter live happily ever after? Or will it be doomed to a dark, cold basement existence? Who ended up with it? Did they kill the white elephant gift exchange after Linda left? Who decided they didn't have enough room in their office/garage/attic/toilet for it, but couldn't bear to part with it so stuck it in storage, just in case?

I'm thinking John Grey was involved, too. Cuz even if he wasn't, it's just funnier to think that.

the dreamer said...

Marc--I'm sure no one would miss it. But it would be fun for you guys to bring up "potty putter" in conversation with the advertising folk, regardless. (Ya know, all the times you talk to them. Christmas coffees ... and other Christmas coffees.)