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us·er pool [yü-zer pül] 

In the world of technology, a User is someone who uses a computer. More specifically, it's someone who asks stupid questions about the use of that computer.

In the context of this blog, a Pool refers to an available supply, the use of which is shared by a group.

At one of the largest entertainment companies in Los Angeles, my job is to provide technical direction and support to these users, many of whom are female. That's where things get a little messy...

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Entries in technology (3)


John Yaya

I hired an I.T. manager on Friday who has absolutely no experience in I.T.

He comes from the gaming industry; although he doesn't have I.T. experience, his producer skills more or less equate to project management skills. 

Regardless, I didn't hire him to manage projects. I hired him to fuck with Gladstone

His name is John. I call him Yaya after John Yaya from Buckaroo Banzai

Gladstone has grown tired of our daily tasks, which were intended as punishment for the Bonnie Bod/Smithee incident. He believes he has paid his penance. However, the prisons would be empty if we let the guilty decide the duration of their own sentences. 

Neither Kessler nor I felt his sins had been absolved. So I decided to hire someone to carry out the rest of his punishment since I could no longer count on willing participation. 

Yaya is a dick. But a subtle dick. The kind that can needle in under your skin and irritate you to the point of lunacy. I know this because he comes highly recommended by Giselle the Recruiter. She said that he had been kicked out of the gaming industry for his subtle but consistent dickness. Apparently, he managed to piss off enough people in that industry that nobody wanted to work with him anymore. 


He started on Friday so that his insurance would kick in starting August 1. I had him start right in on Gladstone as well. 

Friday is a good day for the Test Lab. So I invited Yaya to join us, given games are his specialty--and Gladstone would be there.

Gladstone likes to talk shit while we're killing each other playing Half-Life. And he likes talking shit about everyone's wife. So at the opportune time, Yaya said something about stopping off at Gladstone's house during lunch to give his wife something to eat. Apparently, she's a big fan of sausage. 

Gladstone got pissed. Funny thing is, Yaya wasn't even trying to piss him off yet. He was just following suit and talking wife shit like Gladstone had done to everyone else in the room.

Gladstone said, "I don't know you well enough yet for you to be talking about my wife, asshole."

We were all surprised. 

Yaya's expression seemed truly apologetic. But then:

"How about your sister?" he asked.

Let the games begin. 



Now that Blair is back with me and doesn't hate me anymore, she can no longer pretend to like me.

While she hated me, she had to pretend to like me, otherwise people would think she and I were having an affair. 

She believes that people at work who seem to hate each other, used to be fucking but are now in the middle of a lovers quarrel. So whenever we break up and Blair hates me, she pretends to like me so that nobody will know we were fucking.

On the other hand, when we're together and she does like me, she has to pretend as though she doesn't like me otherwise people will also think we're fucking. So she ignores me completely. 

Blair's boss Kornfeld, the Director of Finance, is always uncomfortable during meetings with Blair and me when she likes me because Blair pretends I'm not in the room. 

As I've mentioned before, even when I ask Blair a finance question, she looks at Kornfeld when she answers. Kornfeld just stares at her not knowing what to say since he didn't ask the question, and in fact, already knows the answer to the question. 

When Blair has a question about one of my technology projects, she looks at Kornfeld again as if he'll provide the answer. This confuses Kornfeld greatly, but before he can say anything, I answer the question. Blair then thanks Kornfeld.

Kornfeld knows, of course, that we're fucking.  

Kornfeld feels much more comfortable in meetings with Blair and me when Blair hates me because that's when Blair pretends to like me. She actually looks at me, smiles at me, and interacts with me. 

In today's meeting, Kornfeld was extremely uncomfortable because things had been going so well for so long with Blair and me, only because things had been going so badly for so long with Blair and me.

Kornfeld finally said: 

"Until you two don't get along again, you can have these meetings without me." 

And then he left the room. 

Blair looked at me and asked: 

"You don't think he knows about us, do you?"

"No," I said. "If he thinks there's anything going on between us, it's only because he's delusional."

"Good," she said, relieved.

Blair left the meeting self-assured our secret was safe.

Yes, Kornfeld is the delusional one. 



Vendor Lunches

Some vendors are better than others. They all buy you expensive lunches. But some pimp out their hot young assistants for


Those are the vendors I like the most.

McCroskey is exactly that kind. I had lunch with him today and he brought along his new assistant Giselle. He thinks if she puts out, I'll put out some cash and hire some of his contractors. But really, I only hire people I know will make me look good. So if he has those people, I'll hire them. If he doesn't, I won't. Giselle just buys my time so that he can pitch his people to me face-to-face.

I met them at La Scala around 11:45. Giselle was really cute and young with perky, very friendly talking tits. At first I thought I was hearing things. But after a moment of hearing them speak, I knew those bouncy melons had a mind of their own.

Giselle's Tits: "So, you wanna get some?"

Me: "Of course. I always want to get some." 

Giselle's Tits: "Well, Giselle wants to give some. McCroskey just told her to flirt with you and smile a lot. But we all know exactly where that's going. Don't be fooled by her innocent eyes. Just because she flaunts an angelic disposition, doesn't mean the rest of us are pure. In fact, we're fucking perverts. We're out of control. Pinch us, bite us, slap us around. We want it hard. And guess what? She doesn't even attempt to stop us. Because she knows we do what the fuck we want to do, and there's nothing she can do about it."

Me: "Nice. I like Independent tits. The kind of tits that don't hold back. Well, you can count on me to utilize you to the fullest extent. I do not take tits for granted."

I wonder why tits are so friendly to me. I mean, I'm certainly friendly to them. Even Blair's tits are friendly to me. Sure they keep an eye on me for Blair, but ultimately, they seem to adore me when ever I'm close. Maybe it's because I never discriminate. I love tits of all colors, shapes and sizes. I treat them all the same. And they show their appreciation in a big way.

After lunch, McCroskey handed me his card, which of course had Giselle's number on the back. I'll give it a couple of days, call her up and ask if I can speak to her tits.