Everyone in the workplace loves to feel important.  From sharing war stories with friends, I realize that I am fortunate in this area because my co-workers are not bad at this at all (and I’m not just saying this because some of them are reading this right now).  But in the corporate environment, it’s all about looking more busy, more powerful, and more important than you actually are.  If you don’t know this, you are probably not very good at your job.

One thing that important people do is name projects.  For example, if one is given a research assignment, your employer will not refer to it as "that research assignment I gave you."  Instead, it often gets a code name, like Project 007 or Project Buttons.  Most of the time, the project code name has nothing to do with the project content.  For example, my friend Chrissy, who works at an ad agency, once told me that her big project of the year was named Project Gypsy.  From the name of it, you may think that this project involved Eastern European transients and/or Stevie Nicks, but it didn’t: it was a presentation to a cheese company.  "Gypsy" was the name of the woman in charge’s dog.  So she named it Project Gypsy.

Since I’ve been at my current position for three years now and I have clawed (read: haphazardly jumped) my way up the corporate ladder, I have recently found myself in the position of being the one who names the projects.  I like this.  What’s more, the projects I work on – even those I work on with others – are relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things, which means no one is paying attention to the project names.  So I’ve been having some fun with them.

(Of course, I can’t tell you the nature of the work that I do, because I’m not an idiot.  But the good news for you is that you probably don’t want to know anyway, since it is so incredibly boring.) 

Some of my recent project names:

Project Shush Yo’ Mouth (named after the LeBron commercial when the LeBrons are playing basketball and the old one says, "I’ll be all over you like white on rice, like flies on shush yo’ mouth!")

Project Bobbysox (named after my favorite porno, which has the single greatest sex scene in film history: Nikki Tyler and Stephen St. Croix on the forklift – wow!)

Project Frost (named after the masturabatory/handjob technique known as the Robert Frost, which I discussed here.)

I am dangerously close to naming something Project Merkin, but then I realized that I like and want to keep my job, so I don’t know about that one.  But hey – at least this keeps me entertained during the day. 

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I was watching Seinfeld last night and I’ll tell you – after Kramer’s little meltdown, it’s just not the same.

Please do not think I’m racially sensitive or politically correct.  I enjoy casual racism, but since my aunt is Japanese, I once hooked up with a half-Puerto Rican, and I own a Randall Cunningham jersey, I can get away with pretty much anything I want, as my bases are covered.

But Kramer – wow.  What is most appalling about his diatribe is that he says that a) he isn’t racist and b) that was the first time he ever used the n-word.  Um, no way, bro.  I mean, I realize the guy couldn’t come out the next day and say, "I’m sorry I yelled those things, but I am indeed racist.  And I fucking love it."  But Kramer’s PR people should have come up with a better excuse than "I’m not racist."  Why didn’t he do what Mel Gibson did and claim he was fucked up on booze/drugs?  Why didn’t he say, "I learned earlier that day that my wife wants a divorce and just snapped?"  Even if he went on Letterman, spit out some gibberish, then stood up and pissed himself, at least people would have remembered him as being mentally ill, not a grade A racist.  I mean, anything would have been more believable than "That was my first time."  Because that sure didn’t look like his first time. 

I’m trying to think of examples or comparisons but can’t come up with any.  But there’s no way that you go from being a black-people loving, happy go-lucky guy to screaming the n-word at the top of your lungs in front of 150 people. 

Anyway, it was terrible thing and blah blah blah, but what concerns me most if that I’m having trouble watching Seinfeld.  Every time I see Kramer open the door and barge into Jerry’s place, I visualize him screaming, "HE’S A N****R!"  Or yelling at George, "Fifty years ago we would have had you upside down with fork up your ass!"

I only hope that both I and the black community can forgive Kramer for this, but it isn’t going to be easy.  Just as Kramer can make amends with the black community by meeting with black leaders and making a (sincere) public apology, maybe he can come to my apartment, take shit out of my fridge, and act like a goofball.  But until I get that call, no more Seinfeld for me.  Which makes me sad.

(Oh, and I’m sad about racism, too.  Can’t forget that.)

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I love cereal.  Big time.  It’s fucking incredible.

But hear me now when I say this: the good people over at Honey Bunches of Oats will change the world with their newest creation – Honey Bunches of Oats with Cinnamon Clusters.

I have never in my life tasted cereal as good as this.  Never.  I don’t have anything else to say, aside from that if you see this cereal in your local grocery store and you don’t buy it, you will regret it for the rest of your life.  No lie. 

(You’re welcome in advance.)

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Are there any Philadelphia Eagles fans in Seattle?  Maybe I should rephrase that: are there any Philadelphia Eagles fans in Seattle reading this?

My plan was to stay in Seattle until Monday, at which point I’d fly down to LA.  However, I decided to stay in Seattle until Tuesday afternoon, as the Eagles are playing in the Monday night game against Carolina.

(I could have made it down to LA for the game, but that would have meant that I’d have to wake up early to fly - remember, MNF starts at 5:15pm out there – and I didn’t want to do that.)

So are there any Eagles fans in Seattle or can anyone tell me a good place to watch an Eagles game in Seattle?  Preferably around EastLake (Eastlake? East Lake?), where I will be staying?  Even though the season is over for them, that doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon them, and I still plan on watching the game, even if I am in Seattle.

If you can help a hopeless Philly fan with a good bar, preferably an Eagles bar, drop me a line at jason@jasonmulgrew.com.  Thank you in advance.   

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Quick book recommendation for you: The Feast of Love by Charles Baxter.

Because I sit in the shower for an average of 1.2 hours per day reading (long story), I read a lot of books.  I’m not bragging, because it’s actually quite sad; a 27 year old single man living in the greatest city in the world should not spend any time in the shower reading books, but that’s just how I roll.

Anyway, this is the best book I’ve read in months.  Moving, captivating, imaginative – everything.  Many times I had to pull myself away from the book to let out a "Wow", so moved was I by the writing.  Tremendous.

And now onto the music.

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Six Songs

"Welcome to the Working Week"  Elvis Costello
There is a 85% chance that this was discussed in the movie "High Fidelity", but if I had to make a Top Five list of greatest first songs on debut albums, this would slightly edge out "Good Times Bad Times" on Led Zeppelin I.  Elvis says, "I’m here, I’m pissed off, and oh yeah – fuck you."

"Crazy for You"  Madonna
I wrote a while back that in my childhood, this is the song I assumed people listened to when they had sex, and now I, as an adult, want to have sex to this song.  I got a pretty good response from a number of you saying that you felt the same way, but at the same time I think that many of you were joking or thought that I was joking.  Well I listened to this song about 40 times in a row last night and I want to repeat in all seriousness: I want to make love to this song (while this song is on? during this song?).  I can not be any more serious here. 

And I’m not even talking about my typical sex session, which is preceded by a lot of vodka, features two solid minutes of sweat, hair and apologies, ends with a fist pump and a request for a high five, and is followed by days (in some cases, weeks) of guilt and shame.  I’m talking about love-making: rolling around on the sheets, messing up each other’s hair, fingers in each other’s mouths – all in slow motion in a room with a lot of candles.  That’s what I’m talking about.   

Mark my words: I’m going to get a girlfriend and I am going to make this happen.  I realize that this might be difficult; my girlfriend may think it’s too corny or funny to go through with it, but women from Cambodia don’t have much of a sense of humor – pretty much she’ll do anything I ask in return for a warm place to sleep and some pocket change for shiny bracelets and costume jewelry.  So I’m not concerned about that.  I just better buy the candles now, so I’m ready. 

"Where Did Our Love Go?"  J. Geils Band
When I first learned that my old college roommate Mike was a self-described "huge J. Geils fan," I thought "What the fuck?"  But they have some pretty good tunes, my favorite being this cover of The Supremes song, which is, dare I say, rollicking.  Much respect to bands or artists who cover songs and infuse them with their own style; this sounds like a J. Geils original.  And if after listening to this song you don’t want to hang out with Peter Wolf (lead singer of the band), then you are truly socially awkward. 

"Call on Me"  Eric Prydz
Speaking of artists that recreate songs, this is a cover of my boy Steve Winwood’s "Valerie."  When I was in England the February before last, this song was everywhere, particularly in the University of London Union (ULU) pub where I spent my days drinking cheap beer, eating cheap food, working on my projects when they weren’t even projects yet, and watching the snow (it snowed a little bit every day).  When I wasn’t watching the snow, I’d watch the TVs that were positioned around the bar and the video for this song, which is so, so nice that I have to include it here.

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Not bad, right?  This came on so often – and got me so riled up – that whenever this song comes on my iPod, I’m brought right back to that pub, with the pints and the snow and the spandexed, sweaty ladies dancing on the TV.

I love nostalgia.

"Busby Berkeley Dreams" and "All My Little Words"  The Magnetic Fields
I recommended these two before but did so at the end of a giant 3000 word post and didn’t give them their proper due.  For the former: is it me or is there something incredible about an extremely gay man with an extremely deep voice sitting at a piano and singing a sad song that starts "I should have forgotten you long ago/But you’re in every song I know"?  For the latter, if you want to know what hopelessness sounds like, check this song out ("I could make you pay and pay/But I could never make you stay").  Two profoundly depressing songs – and you know that I know my depressing songs.  I’d have to think about this a little more, but of the 22 suicide-inducing songs on my "Sad as Fuck" playlist, these may be the two saddest.  This is about the strongest endorsement I can give.  If you don’t download them, well, you’ll probably be a much happier person.  But if you like sad music, you’re doing yourself a disservice by not checking these out.  

(And yes, I realized that I raised the bar so high that no song could live up to this hype, but whatever.)   

"Sexx Laws"  Beck
Very hot and cold on Beck, but I don’t want to end this installment of Six Songs on such a sad note with the above Magnetic Fields songs, so here’s something that’ll make you happy.  If you’re not already in the shower crying. 

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In Seattle from Thursday night, 11/30 to Tuesday afternoon, 12/5.  Then in Los Angeles from Tuesday afternoon, 12/5 until Sunday afternoon, 12/10.  But fear not: I will be checking in or otherwise you will have something good to read on here, so check back if you like.  I mean, I’m not going to beg you – hell, I’ll be on vacation getting fucked up and sleeping until 2pm – but I’m just saying.

And I promise to take lots of pictures and do lots of stupid things.

[Have a good weekend.]