Chat heads just wanna scream

We don't talk to each other at work anymore; we chat. Online. OK, so we do talk if we're all working in the same office but some of the people I work most closely with are not only in different offices, they're in different towns. That's fine, though, because we're all connected with this Jabber program (rather like Messenger) that lets us send documents back and forth and chat away to each other just as quick as our flying fingers can type. Come to think of it, we even chat to people sitting at the next desk, especially if we're talking about one another. The room may be devoid of actual conversation but you can tell by the sound of ticking keyboards that there's some hot gossip going down.

Each of us has a chat icon – an avatar; a little picture that represents us during conversation. You'd think we would all have an actual photo of ourselves, right? Something respectable and businesslike?

Pffft!

Our chat heads change all the time. Because today's St. Patrick's Day (happy green day everyone!), most the icons were shamrocks or leprechauns. For a while there I had a sheep with an Irish hat on it because I often have one of those Serta sheeps so it seemed appropo. OH! We also have room for a customized slogan beside our pictures. I think the space was intended to say something like "BRACEBRIDGE TODAY" or "NORTH BAY" or wherever because some of us move around from office to office depending on what day of the week it is. Like gypsies, we are.


Naturally we use the quote spaces for all kinds of witty repartee. When I'm a Serta sheep my message is a take-off on the Michael Jackson song: BLEAT IT, JUST BLEAT IT.

Another of my favourite chat heads is a picture of Lucille Ball and the slogan says "YOU GOT SOME ESPLANING TO DO."

I've had a zillion chat heads and slogans. You can pretty much tell what kind of mood I'm in by what's going on in Jabber.

When I'm sick I like to have a picture of Natalie Wood as my chat head and the slogan is a take-off from West Side Story: "I FEEL PHLEGMY."


I have a favourite, though. MY NEW FAVOURITE. It's some kind of meme - don't ask me what a meme is. I have no clue. One of the young guys at work – my pal Jason – tried to explain it to me but he's 12 and I'm a dork and there's just no point. Regardless of what the heck a meme is I fell in love with this goofy stick drawing of somebody with a really big mouth and promptly made it my chat head.

Another work friend, Mizz Sarah, sent me this pix because we were working on a crushing deadline and it pretty much summed up the shrieking fecking panic going on in our heads. The funny thing is, seeing this chat head all the time MAKES ME WANT TO ALL-CAP ALL MY MESSAGES. YEAH, I KNOW IT'S LIKE SCREAMING BUT LOOK AT THAT CHAT HEAD - DON'T YOU THINK THAT THING JUST WANTS TO SCREAM?

So that's what I do at work all day.

And they pay me. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

SO WHAT WOULD YOUR CHAT HEAD BE? ALSO, I AM OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS AS TO WHAT CHAT HEAD WOULD SUIT ME BEST!!! GAME ON PEOPLE!

I Feel Pretty

I feel pretty! I do, I do, as long as I don't look in the mirror I am Natalie Wood, goddess of dark hair and liquid eyes.

I feel witty, I make you laugh, oh yes, you may not want to, but look at you smiling, you cannot help but laugh. Look at me spill coffee on my white-shirted self, hear me make spitfire humour, with spit, even. Oh so witty!

And gay, no, not so much, but happy, yes, especially with my gay friends. All happy are we! All gay, almost, like mauve bonnets at an orange juice convention. Anita, is that youuuuuu? Honey, you've aged!

I adore I Feel Pretty, could listen to it all day, like today, when I did, in fact, and finally posted Natalie Wood as my chat icon because we look so much alike. When she was alive, I mean. And when I was young, like 12. Like that. Who's that pretty girl in that mirror there? Who can that attractive girl be? Is it me? Is it Natalie? Is it Memorex?

Such a pretty face, such a pretty smile, such a pretty I forget, such a pretty MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I feel charming, also.

It's actually alarming how charming I feel. (And so pretty... did I mention pretty? Cause I feel pretty and witty and GAY! Anita! You again? Piss off.)

Work is so quiet. So boring. I hear Dave over in his office snoring. Lynda is saying, "What? What?" because she thinks Dave is saying something to her. Karen is stretching and yawning, one of those loud yawns that scare the shit out of me. Jesus, Karen, how many pairs of clean underwear do I need to bring in for a day?

The music in my ear swells - oh wait, it's ear wax - and I feel pretty, OH SO PRETTY, and there's Jason, grabbing Lisa's wedding tiara and plunking it on his own gell-haired head and he's SINGING in a tremulous falsetto, swirling around the production floor in his peach jumper, and suddenly Leah jumps up and tries to grab the tiara because she's an actress and needs to be in the spotlight. "I WANNA BE MARIA," she squeals, but Jason dips and evades her, all in time with the music. The rest of us are overcome with the need to dance so Karen and Lynda pull on their leg warmers and try to be Jennifer Beal (s?) but then Terri smacks them and says, "WRONG MOVIE, MORONS." And she says, "Jennifer Lopez is a fake," only because it pisses me off. But I Feel Pretty, so who gives a shit? Then Cathy B. staggers to her feet and we think she's doing the Funky Chicken but it's only her bad back. Angie, Gail and Marg join in, swanking things up like the background girls in the bridal shop, singing "Miss America, speak! Speak!" while Marianne shrieks, "GILLIGAN!" and we sweep around the room while the music swells and we all develop Puerto Rican-Canadian accents. (Think of Spanish Rice slathered in maple syrup.) The ad reps come in, their mouths like trout, and they sing, "See those pretty girls in the production room!" and Sarah comes and takes our photos and puts them on the front page of the newspaper and they sell more papers than ever, in the history of newspapers, and it's all because I feel pretty.

Hey, I said I FELT pretty. Didn't say I was... way to rain on the parade, buster. Who let this guy in, anyway? HEY! Gimme back that tiara! HEY! DON'T I KNOW YOU????