The Goo Report: Bloggering Like It's My Job

Oh what a week it's been; it feels like three weeks have been crammed into the time that has elapsed since Monday. My supervisor was on vacation all week, which meant I had to step up and do the quotidian stuff she normally does. I'm pretty she takes vacations less for her own relaxation and enjoyment and more for the empathy she gets from me when she comes back and I beg her never to leave again ever for the love of all that is good and true in the universe. It's like going from regular Oreos to DoubleStuf; I like my job, but cram too much in there and I just feel kind of sick and bloated.

That might be from an overdose of thin mints, though, another hazard of working with a lot of women.

Either way, it seems appropriate to feature some other people having a rough time at work in this week's Goo report:

• First lesson to learn while working as a giant pint of Guinness: don't get drunk and try and drink yourself. Second lesson: don't leave your green, pint-glass-shaped Guinness costume lying around in your garage.
• It's not easy being a police dog, whatwith all the sheep out there trying to kick your ass.
  
• The Object was on the "host committee" for his PRIG PIRG alumni happy hour at Gazuza, a trendy bar in Dupont Circle. I tagged along for (what I thought would be) free drinks and d a chance to criticize the Object's work. I was thwarted on the former, but came through like a champ on the latter: "Sooooo, you brought a bunch of poor environmentalists to a hookah bar where the cheapest drink is $9? Why don't you guys just sodomize the polar bears while you're killing them?" Just as I suspected, while the environmentalists were busy schmoozing, the whales were suffering and needed saving. Fortunately, the dolphins stepped up to the task.
  
• As those $9 drinking enviros can attest, being broke is a shitty set of circumstances, so I feel bad for a Chinese plastic surgeon who declared bankruptcy. I feel a lot worse for his patient who is stuck between genders as a result.
• I don't imagine it's terribly difficult to be the Prime Minister of Australia. You drink some beahs, throw a few shrimp on the barbie, wrastle some wily marsupials, administer national sunblock programs, drink some more beahs, and call it a day. Former Prime Minister Bob Hawke even "held a Guinness World Record for speed beer drinking during his days as a Rhodes Scholar." What would make the job challenging would be possessing "bookish and church-going" qualities. And then going on a drinking binge at a New York strip club. And then starting a campaign against binge drinking. It's remarkable reminiscent of a different New Yorker in the news who likes naked ladies. The only major difference is the chronology. Oh, and the public reaction: "[M]ost Australians believed [Prime Minister Kevin Rudd] when he said it was the second time in his life that he was drunk.