If you are a devel­oper, you know that there are some­things that are just best prac­tice. Okay, there are a lot of things that are best prac­tice, but I’m pretty sure we all pick and choose which ones we fol­low. Like nota­tions in code, con­sis­tent ver­sion num­bers, changel­ogs, not stab­bing the guy next to you at the table who always whis­tles to him­self or that other guy who talks WAY REALLY SHOUTY LIKE THIS on his phone.

A lot of what I do every­day needs to be notated some­where just to add a level of con­sis­tency if some­thing were to hap­pen and I was com­pletely unavail­able for a time. I call this the “In Case I Get Hit By A Bus” insur­ance plan, and I use it often to explain to the exec in charge of most of my projects what things he should know to tell the back up guy so the myth­i­cal back up guy doesn’t screw up my stuff.

He, how­ever, told me the other day that he “Really wishes” that I’d “stop say­ing that” when I tell him things.

So this morn­ing, I sent him a list.


To: exec@work
From: Me
Sub­ject: An Impor­tant List

Dear Mr. Per­son Who Has A Really Long Title I Can’t Ever Remem­ber and Even Though It’s On The Web­site, I Refuse To Look It Up Because It’s Way More Fun To Start Emails Like This,

I gave your request that I “Stop say­ing that you’re going to get hit by a bus” seri­ously, and after much con­sid­er­a­tion, some in-depth analy­sis of the met­rics and ana­lyz­ing the ROI and then remem­ber­ing I don’t even know how to do in-depth analy­sis and I don’t know what ROI even is, I have cre­ated a list of alter­na­tives that can be used in place of the phrase: In Case I Get Hit By A Bus. 

“How does this list work, my favorite and amaz­ing employee?” you are prob­a­bly ask­ing. Well, it’s kind of cool because it’s exactly like one of those Choose Your Own Adven­ture books. Except there’s no real sto­ry­line to it. And there isn’t really much adven­ture in the “Choose One” option. And no mat­ter what you choose the story isn’t chang­ing. But other than that? It’s totally like a Choose Your Own Adven­ture. I know — your mind? BLOWN.

I sub­mit  “A List of Phrases To Be Used As Alter­nates To In Case I Get Hit By A Bus” for your review. Now, If this was an in-person pre­sen­ta­tion, now is where I’d clear my throat, pull up a fab­u­lous graphic on the large screen behind me, and you’d say, “Get out of my office and get to work.” I think we can both agree using your imag­i­na­tion is much bet­ter with a Choose Your Own Adven­ture Story, and also less likely to get me thrown out of your office. Basi­cally, we both win here.

  • In the event I am detained by TSA.
  • In case my appli­ca­tion for the super secret spy school is accepted. Crap, strike that. First rule of the school is to not tell any­one you’re going to the school, so I just got expelled before I was accepted. It’s just as well, I’d be a ter­ri­ble spy. 
  • Because I want to be pre­pared if Tim Cook calls and says, “I need you to help me with the keynote.”
  • In case ther­apy doesn’t actu­ally work.
  • Because you never know when I’ll be unable to secure an alibi.
  • Because those Gator Boys make gator catch­ing look fun and I’m impulsive.
  • In case the FDA decides that Adder­all is banned from the US
  • In case I have to make good on promis­ing Chester Scales part of my liver. 
  • In the event I decide to play with my apoc­a­lypse axe when I didn’t take my adderall. 
  • Because I’m still not sure you aren’t lying when you tell me that “keep­ing things in your head instead of say­ing them all out loud won’t give you a stroke.”
  • In the event I’m bit­ten by zom­bies first.

I totally threw that last one up to be ridicu­lous because I am TOTALLY pre­pared and there’s no way I’ll be bit­ten first. But, I guess that’s why it’s called insurance. 



To: gs@work
From: Exec
Sub­ject: Re: An Impor­tant List

Is this some weird way of telling me you’re resign­ing? Or that you’ve been bit­ten by a zombie?



To: exec@work
From: Me
Sub­ject: Re: An Impor­tant List

If I’d been bit­ten by a zom­bie, I’d now be a zom­bie and I wouldn’t tell you that I had so that I could infect all my cowork­ers. Con­grat­u­la­tions, You just failed the Zom­bie Apoc­a­lypse! I’m start­ing to sus­pect you are not tak­ing zom­bie apoc­a­lypse pre­pared­ness seriously. 

But once, I was bit­ten by a brown recluse on my neck and not only did I not die, but I didn’t even get a super power. I was totally this awe­some before the spi­der bite. It’s pos­si­bly one of the most vivid exam­ples of crush­ing a child­hood dream that I’ve ever experienced. 

Per­son­ally, I think the list shows my abil­ity to take con­struc­tive crit­i­cism. That’s a valu­able skill in an employee. That was in a book. I mean, not a book I’ve read, but I’m almost pos­i­tive it’s in a book some­where. I don’t really read books that are about “being a good employee” because they sound bor­ing. Either way, I’m show­cas­ing one of those catch­phrases that is prob­a­bly the kind of thing that should be in an employee eval­u­a­tion. I imag­ine. I know we don’t do those, so I don’t have any idea if it’s on one or not. 

Hugs except no hugs because there are poli­cies in place pro­tect­ing me from that,




To: gs@work
From: Exec
Sub­ject: Re: Re: An Impor­tant List

 We do eval­u­a­tions. I’m writ­ing  “Needs to work on how to respond to con­struc­tive crit­i­cism” in yours right now. 


To: exec@work
From: Me
Sub­ject: Re: Re: An Impor­tant List

REALLY? We do eval­u­a­tions? I should prob­a­bly read some of those emails that come out with “Eval­u­a­tion” in the sub­ject line. The sub­ject like gave me the feel­ing that the con­tents would be judgey and so I ignored them. 

Your phone must have auto­cor­rected “Needs to work on how to not be so awe­some at respond­ing to con­struc­tive crit­i­cism” to some­thing else. This is why for­mal judgey is a ter­ri­ble idea. I think you’re smart to skip eval­u­a­tions. You’d be judg­ing me, then I’d judge you in response. You and I have man­aged to break the cycle of judg­men­tal behav­ior. Hon­estly, I’m just proud of us for that.

Beam­ing with pride and brim­ming with caffeine, 



To: gs@work
From: Exec
Sub­ject: Re: Re: Re: An Impor­tant List



Some­times, when I have had a day full of peo­ple and their talk­ing to me, I will cruise Fab.com to decom­press and clear my head and it’s just so full of fun and ran­dom that I can’t help myself. Which is why I will occa­sion­ally send screen caps of things that I see on there with my own com­men­tary to my friends over iMes­sage. No, I don’t know why they let me have their phone num­bers either.




wonka style

But then the other night, I found this lit­tle piece of awesome.


So I showed the guy pal and said, “I just found the most awe­some floor mat in the his­tory of floors. Like, seri­ously, if Cae­sar were alive today he’d be all, “WHY DON’T I HAVE THAT ON MY FLOORS?” and I’d be all, “Because Cleopa­tra didn’t really love you, man. Tough, but true. Also, BACK OFF, CAESAR, THAT GUY DIDN’T ACTUALLY COME WITH THE FLOOR MAT!”

Then he did that “polite” response thing that called it dif­fer­ent and kinda creepy.

Which made me feel like he wasn’t really get­ting how awe­some this was, which meant it was time to pull out my crazy great mar­ket­ing skills.

If he were mine, I’d put thought bub­bles over his head and change them out every­day. He’d say things like “Aaar­rgh!” on Talk Like A Pirate Day, and “There isn’t always room for Jello.” or “Excuse me, buddy, but my eye sock­ets are up HERE.” Peo­ple would be afraid of his creepy and stay out of my space, which makes him like a warn­ing sign or a guard dog, only bet­ter because you don’t have to feed him or take him to the vet, so he’s actu­ally sav­ing you money. It’s prac­ti­cally irre­spon­si­ble to not own him, and doesn’t fis­cal respon­si­bil­ity mat­ter to you at all?

I’ve named him Bartholomew and I feel like we were meant to be friends. Fated, even. He could live in my office. Well, you know, as the remains of the dead. Which wouldn’t be weird at all. I have a friend who has dead stuffed rodents in clothes that she keeps in her office. If any­thing, Bartholomew shows how nor­mal I really am here.

Really, Bartholomew is just mis­un­der­stood. I mean, look how he’s always smil­ing! I think we all could use a lit­tle more Bartholomew in our lives. Except for maybe Grandma. Because, old. Pos­si­bly because start­ing another rumor about Jello at the home will get me in trou­ble. I’m not entirely sure that being banned from a nurs­ing home is going to give me street cred. 


Him: Mas­ter­card or Visa?

Then later I admit­ted that I didn’t order Bartholomew and so I was sad because it’s hard let­ting go after break­ing up with a floor mat you didn’t actu­ally own.

And he told me I should get some rest, and that it’s always hard the first time, but by the time you break up with your sec­ond floor mat you never own, it’s much easier.

I’m just so lucky to have such great sup­port in the min­utes of heart­break not buy­ing a floor mat can bring.

{ 1 comment }

Last month, my friend Rod­ney sent me a mes­sage and asked if I’d read his book and give him my feed­back on it. And then he kept ask­ing me over and over again to tell him that I liked it. Basi­cally he was becom­ing just like that inse­cure girl who keeps ask­ing her boyfriend right before he dumps her and she goes all future episode of Snapped on him, “But you love me, right? Really love me?”

So just for my own enter­tain­ment, I’ve been string­ing him along on post­ing about his book, because I’m ter­ri­bly ADHD, and also? Next time let me pub­lish when I want to, Rod­ney. Because then stuff hap­pens and some­thing shiny flies past and OH MY GOD DID APPLE RELEASE A NEW SHINY THING I MUST HAVE?


For a minute, I actu­ally for­got what I was doing here.

Right, the BOOK.


So, you know how some­times you’re read­ing some­thing when you’re in a crowded place and want to help pass the time, so you’re not so bored? And then you find your­self read­ing some­thing so damn funny that you’re basi­cally chok­ing your­self to death to not laugh out loud because it’d be totally inap­pro­pri­ate to burst out in uncon­trol­lable laugh­ter at Grandpa’s funeral. That’s Rodney’s book, you guys. It’s the book you’d be read­ing and find your­self laugh­ing so hard you’d have every­one star­ing at you.

Then, because I’ve got a short atten­tion span, I fin­ished his book and then went back to being enter­tained with games of Cards Against Human­ity. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a card game for hor­ri­ble peo­ple. Which is basi­cally awe­some. There are two sets of cards — the black cards and the white cards and the point is to make the most hor­ri­bly inap­pro­pri­ate and hilar­i­ous phrase pos­si­ble with the cards. It’s basi­cally fill in the blank on crack meets drunk mad libs and they have a really slutty baby. There’s noth­ing about that not to love.

Which is how the idea of a set of Cards Against Human­ity cards based on Rodney’s book “Things Go Wrong For Me” for you to add to your own CAH game was born. So here you can down­load your very own, exclu­sive to only the peo­ple who who click “down­load” and any­one else who might click down­load just to see what the hell I’m talk­ing about. And exclu­sive is rel­a­tive here. There’s mil­lions of peo­ple in other coun­tries who don’t even have inter­net that will never get a copy of this and even if they did, they’d be all, “WTF? Why wouldn’t you give us inter­net? Or money? You asshole.”

You totally aren’t an ass­hole, you’re just in the EXCLUSIVE GROUP.

Click Here to Down­load the Rod­ney Lacroix “Things Go Wrong For Me” CAH sheets.


You’re wel­come.

You should fol­low Rod­ney on Twit­ter, where I fre­quently make his jokes fun­nier.  And seri­ously, buy his book, I promise you, you will laugh.

BarnesNoblercg pubamazon



P.S. Yes, Rod­ney, I liked your book.