There’s an article in today’s New York Times about the rise of “iCrime"--people being targeted for their shiny, easy-to-steal, status symbol iPods.  I’ve actually thought about this before.  I sometimes jog through dicey areas of my city, and I’m often lost in my own thoughts as well as lost in a song.  My iPod is strapped around my arm.  I’m not especially fearsome looking. Wouldn’t it be easy for evil people to trip me to the sidewalk and strip me of my musical companion?

However, then I realized that my car had a “Protected by Auto Theft Alarm” sticker on the driver side window, and that gave me an idea. And now I don’t worry about being mugged at all.  I jog in peace, thanks to my iPod’s new decal: “Contains More than One Track by Oingo Boingo.”

I’m pleased to announce that I’ve joined the ranks of professional photographers.  I’ve given the widely known and well-regarded travel site Shmapp!! permission to use a photo of Eyre Square in Galway, Ireland that I took last year.

The photo can be seen here.  Note the photo credit that reads “Photo: Greg Howard.” It’s important to note that this is not the jerk who plays with the Dave Matthews Band or the nimrod who did the Sally Forth comic strip. This is me.

I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking “Gosh, Greg, I love Schmapp!!  I never use Lonely Planet or Rick Steves. When I plan a trip, I go straight to Schmapp!!  It is the travel site of choice for both young and old! It’s a household name!  Clearly, you have made it as a serious artist in the realm of photography and other photo-related subjects.  And yet, I can’t help but wonder--is it possible that I can match your feat?  Is there a way that me, a lowly amateur photographer, could ever aspire to reach the heights of your artistic triumph?”

And my response is, be of good cheer. It is possible that you, too, could have some random photo of yours selected to be on Schmapp!! just like I have. But in order to do so, you must follow several important rules:

Sometimes I’m told that I don’t like to try new things in bed. But that’s just not true.  Sometimes I sleep on my side. Sometimes I sleep on my stomach. Sometimes I stack up the pillows behind my neck. Sometimes I elevate my legs using a highly sophisticated array of matching blankets and throw cushions.

Clearly, comments like this simply suggest people projecting their own feelings about themselves.  And it forces me to say, hey, no need to blame me for your own lack of adventure. Come join me way out here on the precipice, where I like to say that if you’re not on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.

I’ve started taking some management classes. My department is growing, and I figure it’s possible that some of my standard techniques for performance management ("A drunk otter could have done that project better") and team building ("Another round of shots for the table") may start to be less effective going forward.

I try to keep an open mind about these things. I don’t just assume that a management class will be a froofy timewaster where they put clay and colorful pipe cleaner toys at each person’s chair so participants can be “playful and creative” during the instruction.

But when I showed up a class about effective leadership strategies last week, I found clay and colorful pipe cleaner toys at each person’s chair.

Abraham Lincoln was a great leader. Do you know one of the strategies he used to become one?  It involved a studious avoidance of colorful pipe cleaner toys.

Anyway, the real problem came up around a half hour into the session.  The instructor--who was so cheerful and chirpy than I’m sure she had several felonies on her record--asked us to read a few paragraphs about what makes a good leader and then underline the parts that we liked best.

The problem with that exercise is, it implicitly assumes that we’re going to agree with everything in the text.  But I came across this sentence, and it stuck in my craw:

“Genuine leaders are not in it for themselves; they have a sincere desire to create something larger and better than what they can create alone.”

I thought about that for a moment.  Then the instructor asked us to share the parts we had underlined. I raised my hand.

“I don’t think it’s true that genuine leaders aren’t in it for themselves. Everyone’s motivated by self-interest. But good leaders know that the way to achieve their personal ends is to build something that’s larger than what they can do on their own. So I’d revise this sentence to read ‘Genuine leaders are in it for themselves, and they have a sincere desire to create someone larger and better than what they can create alone.’”

Silence.  You could have heard a pipe cleaner drop.

The associate instructor said dryly, “That’s deep, Greg.”

The chirpy instructor gave her best Stepford Wife robotic head jerk and said, “Well!  I think I need another cup of coffee before I can follow all that!”

I threw up my hands. “Okay, okay. I’m just saying.”

And that was that.  But hey, I don’t come into a class to shut off my brain; I’m going to engage with the material. And personally, I don’t want my manager to be a selfless person; I want him or her to recognize that leveraging my skill set is the best way to achieve large amounts of money and power.

Selflessness is great--when you’re clothing and feeding poor children in Calcutta.  It’s not as useful when you’re deep in the belly of a for-profit business.  Oh, and you know what poor children in Calcutta might also like?  Colorful pipe cleaner toys.

Medical assistant who conducted my pre-interview: “Now, be sure to call this number if you get sick over the week and you want to warn us about a potential problem with your donation. For example, let us know if you come down with small pox, malaria, or republicanism.”

--

Lying on the cot, about to give blood:

NURSE: You forgot to answer this question.

(Hands me questionnaire--blank question is “HAVE YOU RECEIVED MONEY FOR SEX IN THE PAST YEAR?”

ME: Oh, the answer is definitely no.  All I’ve received is “Nice try but please try harder next time.”

---

While the blood is flying out of my arm in record time:

NURSE: You’re halfway done already!

ME: I have strong veins!

NURSE (correcting): You’re a bleeder.

ME: Okay, that’s the other way of looking at it.

---

Helpful Tip!  If you forget to bring the newspaper and you don’t feel like checking your blackberry, you can spend the recovery time wondering whether the Borg could assimilate the Cylons.

In picking out paints for my place, I was excited to see that Home Depot could scan a color swatch and match it up to the types of paints they had on hand. My friend had helped me pick out coordinating colors, and they were nice, warm colors like “Burnished Cedar” or whatever. So I used the paint scanner to scan in those selections and see what kind of counterparts the store could give me. The results came back completely out of left field, something like

HOT PINK

What the hell was that?  I figured the machine was hiccuping, so I tried re-scanning. It came back something like

CRUSHED SKULL GRAY

And again:

BLOOD AND GUTS BURGANDY

What’s the point of a machine that makes your life easier if its output has absolutely no connection to reality?  The idea of the machine is fantastic, and it looks impressive--but ultimately, it doesn’t work.  It’s the equivalent of giving someone a flashlight and calling it a stun gun.

This is just like the time when I entered my face into a Celebrity Lookalike Generator and found out that I resembled a child star, the guy who invented the lightbulb, Keyser Söze, and Queen Latifah.

These are things that sound good but are not actually functional--much like one-size-fits-all socks, E-Z wall hangers, and representative democracy.

Technology blows.

On days like today when I don’t feel like doing any work, I hang around my co-workers’ desks until they leave to go to a meeting or get coffee. Then I quickly sit down behind their computer, call up Outlook, and send an email from that person’s account to that person’s account, with the subject line “Note to Self: I am an idiot.”

Eventually they come back and check their email, but I’m already back at my desk playing Tetris, so my alibi is unassailable.