(Creepily) I've chronicled Henry's journey through the work place via his text messages.
The adventure begins in June 2010, and follows him right up to the point at which he quits in October. As you would expect, the cycle of employment resolves itself with Henry threatening god. Enjoy!
At the office, feeling sorry for my existence and those of my colleagues. Would it be okay if I just spat on people as they walk past my desk? Is that too subtle a message? Yeah you’re right.
Work was crantastic. I got to unpack boxes in the basement. I had my music on full blast, and then shuffled like a maniac. Are you picturing me shuffling solo in a basement yet?
Man, Perfume is the only thing getting me through the work day. God bless them.
Im pretending to be on the fone whilst listening to internet radio at work. What have you contributed to society since your Saturday night charade?
Lol my colleague gave me a whole box full of big red. This might have made him a very generous person had they not been expired for the last year and a half. I’m goin to finish the whole box and enjoy them, just to piss him off.
27 Sept Note: There was a text attached to this photo. Simply explaining that this was on Henry's desk when he came into work. I deleted the text like a complete dickfish.
In the workplace, respect is earned, obviously. Im gonna earn it by setting their kids on fire. 27 Sept
So i quit my job today. No one puts a fucking unicorn on MY desk. No one.
Thursday's my last day. They want to take me out for a farewell lunch. Fuckers, I hope they simultaneously choke on their chicken schnitzels and die.
Just for future reference, make sure to use boiling water for your next pool party. Office kitchen signs dont lie.
Do you know what the cunts gave me as a farewell present? A giant bag of instant noodles. And a card. My second farewell card from these inbred rednecks. Im gonna use this card to wipe my butt. Maybe I'll do that with the noodles too.
It doesn't matter what the card said. There was a rip on one side. A GOD DAMN RIP. I bet you someone did it on purpose. Im going to try and get a fingerprint analysis done. Find out who it is. And rip their fuckin hair off.
This is how god punishes lazy people. With mould.
I'll get you for this, god. I'll get you good.
7 Oct 1:53pm
Whenever I'm fortunate enough to witness Kate dish out knowledge, I'm like:
And I'm like, what IS the best thing about knowing a guy like Henry?
I mean, receiving his insightful text messages, sometimes with insightful photos that he obviously has no moral qualms in taking (like that time he sent me a photo of some Jesus look-a-like being swarmed by seagulls) is pretty good. That's something that really enriches my life. You know?
Like this text w/ photo he sent me months ago:
"Pony Chandelier. When I'm elected Prime Minister it will be illegal not to have one in your house."
But, I think the real, most beneficial thing Henry has ever done for my life, was introducing me to the Lil Wayne documentary (The Carter) way back in 2009.
I get the impression that Henry isn't exactly a "fan" of Lil Wayne, but given the fact that Henry has a formidable knowledge concerning the lyrics to anything sounding even remotely "ghetto" on the radio, I'm not certain. Henry: The shuffling Asian Australian boy familiar with rap and RnB, who also plays the acoustic guitar (an instrument I typically affiliate with white country music singers)... he is both a technological marvel and a cultural anomaly.
Anyway, this might sound like a Henry post, but this is actually about
Before watching his documentary, I had no idea who Lil Wayne was.
Who did I think I was?
See where it says 71 other pages? That's a daily occurrence.
I have heaps of jpegs backed up featuring his statuses and alllll the things he 'likes'. I'd share them with you, but, maybe I should just fcuking spare you.
lol coz if you havent, you should!!!
8 Oct 3.14pm
The number of people walking around with cracked I-phone screens are almost certainly people I know. So if you see one, make sure you holla, and tell them you're a friend of mine. We could all go out for drinks.
p.s. Have you tried counting how many penises are in this music video?
Try that. Get back to me.
Then BRUNCH at yumcha. Brunch; how fucking grown-up sounding is that?
It was an incredibly grown-up affair, as where we typically have yumcha is where Lillian also had her wedding reception. (Lillian can be seen above in the grey knit sweater and with the stunning eyes.)
Even if we did spend brunch discussing who from high school we'd like to have on our Survivor tribes. it was still very much a mature, grown-uppy discussion. Naturally, brunch is followed by lunch... at 3 ish. And we all know what adults have for lunch? That's right. Coffee.
This is where my overwhelming sense of Independence and grown-uppery kicked in. I think it had something to do with Nikki's outfit (seen above). It was the 80's style navy blazer with shoulder pads and blue and white check lapels (matched with cowboy boots and pink nail polish) that really made me feel like I was in the middle of a power lunch.
I even pointed out an unintentionally penis shaped statue to the bride-to-be. Now that's maturity!
"How's it going?" says some guy in my class.
I reply back with the standard "Good thanks. And you?"
"Good. How'd you go with your exams?"
I drag my eyes away from the text book I'm currently reading. "Not too bad. How about you?"
At this point, dickfish over here should realise that this is me being polite, that I'm reading and not interested in getting to know one another better. In return, the polite thing to do would be to let me get back to my text book. We had our chit chat, now take your sandaled feet and receding hairline elsewhere, pal.
He continues, "I didn't have to sit exams, because I went to a Chinese university last year, and my credit points already blah blah blah and then in China it was really cool, and there was this guy who blah blah blah rich Chinese kids and they blah blah expensive clubs with blah blah blah driving down the highway at 160 k's blah."
You can always tell when someone isn't cool, because they will jump at any chance to try and tell you a "cool" story that reaffirms their coolness.
The way he eagerly told me about clubs in China, driving in BMWs in China, and how great his Chinese had become... in China, was, in a word, dickfishy.
It's especially dickfishy when such people start talking about topics they obviously have little to no experience in. Seeing this chap in a club would be as likely as seeing a beached whale: It could happen. And on the off chance it does, watching it struggle awkwardly in this foreign environment is just heart breaking.
Did I mention that this guy looks about 35? 35 year old white guy going clubbing in China. Fucking spare me.
Actually, he looks a lot like that dorky guy from Roadtrip, but older and balder.
He even began finishing sentences with "fuck yeah, man!" and similarly 'hood' sounding expressions. What an asshole.
I drew this diagram of him because I hate him.