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The next-door neighbors have a cat. He’s about four months old, judging from his level of clumsiness, and he’s a complete sweetheart. He reminds me of my first cat at that age, in temperament and coloration, but the markings are different. I know all this because he figured out that the balcony rail of his people’s apartment is the same as the balcony rail of this place, and has been paying us occasional visits. I don’t think he expected to find a nice lady who gets cuddle-happy and giggly when he lands in her patio. Bonus for him, even if I refuse to let him inside. Bonus for me, since I can get my weekly recommended purr allowance in the privacy of my own balcony without the hassle of a litter box. This pleases me.

Purr.

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I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before, but recently I started to wonder if, given the prophecy stuff and plotlines of Order of the Phoenix, Neville could end up Sam to Harry’s Frodo. “Who are you? His bodyguard?” “His gardener.”

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I am perfectly comfortable with the fact that my job is, basically, a gofer position. What I’m not comfortable with is the way it can be abused, to the benefit of no one.

Let’s say that the attorney on a particular file needs a fish. If he does not have the fish with him in court, cleaned and cooked (both of which are his job) in two days, we will be in violation of the law. This file belongs to a certain person who will remain nameless, who has already given her assistant the job of procuring five other fish so far that day. Let’s say that I am that assistant. I am madly casting about, not even sure if I am using the right bait to get the specific fish she wants. A paper lands in my boat with a sticky note attached: “Pls provide fish to def atty.”

Okay, I think, I’m game. I set the pole down and inspect the paper. And I recognize the file this is about. “I found out where those fish live,” I shout back to her, where she stands on the pier. “They’re right under you. And there’s a pole in the file.” I also faxed a fish to the attorney last month, but I don’t say that.

“Well, if you could go ahead and just get one and give it to me. Thanks.” And she walks off.

I fume. I pull the other line back up. I rebait the hook, catch the fish, and deliver it to her.

“Thanks, if you could go ahead and fax it to the defense attorney.”

I fax the fish. I go back to my other lines. Some of them get bites.

Two days later, she gets a call from the attorney. He has not cleaned nor cooked the fish, because she told him I would do that. She did not tell me I would do that. He is at the trial and the judge is skeptical of his fish. I am now in the position of having to speed-clean and pressure-cook our copy of the fish. She tells the attorney how it comes out. Apparently it is not exactly the right fish, but since no one bothered to check before now, it will have to do. The judge decides. We pay some money.

I receive an email. “Thx for your work on the fish… Next time I ask you for a fish pls get it to the def atty right away… He didn’t get to clean and cook it this time and that looks bad for us… Thx.”

The moral of the story: Give an attorney a fish, and you’ll mess up your fax machine. Teach an examiner to fish, and you’ll turn your head inside out before you succeed.

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You know those people who like to bitch about “basically?” The ones who picked on “like” and “you know” (and, mercifully, seem to have given up)? I’ve got another one for them, and it ain’t “Could I get.”

Maybe it’s more prevalent in a business environment where people are asking advice and permission all the time, but the phrase “go ahead and” has really started to grate my cheese. People no longer say “I’m going to send you the form,” but “I’m going to go ahead and send you the form.” The woman across the cube wall from me actually said it twice in one sentence today–something like, “I’m going to [GAA] send you the form, and then you [GAA] fill it out and send it in.” I’ve blocked out her exact words, thank god.

Omit unnecessary words, guys. GAAh.

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The Orange County Fair usually has some pretty good concerts lined up. Last year, they were all free with admission, but this year, they opened up a separate venue and kicked up the price. Tonight it was Joan Osborne and Melissa Etheridge, which was a very cool concert. The volume got turned up too high too fast, but each of them put on a good show. I have to say, Melissa Etheridge has the most expressive face I’ve seen on a vocal performer in a while. They had two huge HDTV screens showing whatever the cameraguy of the moment was focusing on, and when it was on her, she could get a round of screaming out of the audience with just one note and an eyebrow. This concert made me sorry I didn’t pick up any more of her CDs during the big Wherehouse closeout a few months ago. Ah well, there are sales ahead….

The title of the post, by the way, is a misheard lyric from “I Wanna Come Over;” the real line is “To hell with the consequence.” We ran into another opportunity for humor during “Bring Me Some Water” when Kelson pointed out that not only did she already have a bottle of water, but someone had put it in a little holder on the mic stand–which was visible on the video screen. Of course, my brain started writing alternate lyrics. (Apologies to all necessary parties, including those of you who don’t know the song.)

*****

Somebody brought you some water
Can’t you see it’s there on your stand
You took it off the stage, right there at the front corner
A minute ago, with your hot little hand

Somebody brought you some water
Think I saw you sippin’ before
The music’s got my mind, and the music’s got my soul
But tonight I think logic, I think logic’s out that door

*****

Side note: They have some damn yummy fruit at the Terri’s Berries booth right by the theater. Must remember this for the Alanis Morissette concert in two weeks.