A few musts in his list:

1. A PowerBook - After years of saying PCs were superior, Incubus decided to join the 20th century and get a Mac. This was fully a by-product of all his white friends constantly harping about how they are so unique and creative people for owning one as well as how much attention they got when displaying their laptops at hipster coffee shops throughout the city. Normally, my boss owning a Mac would translate into freedom from tech support. For example, I have a MacBook that’s almost five years old. Not once have I taken the damn thing in for repair or called support for anything. But this is Incubus and his black cloud of bad luck we’re talking about, which means that I go to the Apple store once a week. I’m already on a first name basis with the Genius Bar staff. Sigh…
2. More Apple-y Things - If one Apple item makes you look “happening and connected” imagine what more Apple products would do. Enter the iPhone, the iPod Touch, and the Airport Express. More drama for me as per the timeless equation: Smattering of Apple products + Smattering of products by other vendors + Incubus’ rotten luck + Incubus’ belief that you can make products do things that they aren’t designed to do (just for him) = A fucked day of troubleshooting for me. If you think I’m exaggerating, consider this: his iPhone has been replaced 4 times in a year…
3. Facebook - Facebook lets you have a bunch of friends (some you’ve never even met!) while not having to actually socialize with any of them. Being all about superficial status and judging people based on a quote and a favorite statement, Incubus has jumped in the bandwagon. Facebook is just what Incubus needs to keep everyone appraised of his genius thoughts and whereabouts. Updating his “wall’ has now replaced shopping at Amazon.com as his favorite past time. So much so that his Facebook “friends” have started un-subscribing and/or closing their accounts. Turns out sending 15 updates from the lounging area at the airport, during the flight, and upon arrival is not for everyone.
4. Twitter - Not content with driving people out of Facebook in droves, Incubus has also signed up for a Tweaker Twitter account. Twitter  lets you post “shout outs” that other people can see, answering the ageless question “what are you doing?” This is every attention whore’s Incubus’ wet dream. Notwithstanding the obvious reply “nobody cares,” Incubus has taken it to “shout out” stuff on the hour. Literary gems such as “eating fiddle ferns 4 shizl @ Mix’d Gr8″ or TMI updates like “tummy hurts, looking for loo at the airport.” Well at least he’s off my back…
5. Twilight Saga - “Edward or Jacob?” is how he greeted me the other day. Ugh. Nothing says uber cool and desirable like a 45 year old who watches tween vampire movies. How are women not trying to constantly tear his clothes off? Unsolved mysteries of the universe…
6. Obama - Incubus’ life belief system is based on lumping people into castes according to income and screwing anyone below his perceived level of superiority with pompous abandon. As many times as possible. On a daily basis. This is purely economics, you see. As posited by Ayn Rand, capitalism is the best, the well-being of the individual trumps that of the community’s, and selfishness is the highest state of being. All values that Incubus holds close to his heart. However, being an attention whore he must also put out a caring image to the world. Enter telling everyone that he gets the news from The Daily Show, drives a Prius, just got a composting bin (mandated by the city), and voted for Obama. To prove it he has a sticker on the aforementioned hipster mobile
7. Prius - In order to dupe everyone into thinking he actually gives a shit about the environment, Incubus bought a Prius. Through the magic of marketing, the clever folks at Toyota have actually convinced hipsters like Incubus that driving their Priuses is actually good for the environment. Never mind that it still burns gasoline, it’s no better than using vegetable oil in a diesel engine, and production of its batteries burns a shit load of CO2.

Imagine for a moment Incubus having a different job, one in which he doesn’t call the shots or get to complain about the cereal toppings in the kitchen. One that, ideally, doesn’t involve me. Ahhhh, a girl can only dream…

Anyway, he of the small ego is now going through the “ignominiousness” of interviewing and putting together resumes. Stuff that, you know, is reserved for people who like need money and are like poor. Not him. He walks on water.

Let me preface this by saying that I’m not above dilly dallying my resume either. Things always need enhancing you see. But there’s a limit. Especially if things can easily be verified by anyone with a working neuron…or two…or Internet access.

Incubus: Beatrix, there’s a mistake on my bio in our web site

Beatrix: Im-po-ssi-ble-ay. You review it every week!

Note: Yes, he’s the kind to set up daily automatic Google searches for his name. Him being such a VIP and all it is to be expected that his name be on everyone’s lips all the time. Although Google doesn’t seem to think so.

I: Well, where it reads “Incubus, through his frequent contributions to industry publications and conferences, has been instrumental in promoting the Twathead Ventures name. In fact, a search for Twathead Ventures yields more than 1,000 unique Google search results.” It should say 10 million instead…

B: Hmmm…that is very odd because I just did a search and I only get about a thousand relevant hits

I: How are you doing the search?

B: You write Twathead Ventures in quotation marks and that gives you the unique results to our firm. Otherwise, you’ll get results for both words as well as for either term

I: Well, take the quotations off

But of course. No one in the world would notice. An elephant, what elephant?! There’s nothing there!

Beatrix Kiddo: Ok, you’re booked for 9:05am

I: Hmmmm, that might not work. I need it for earlier

BK: (Glare) They open at 9:00am. You have the first appointment of the day

I: Call them and ask them to move it

BK: To what exactly?! Their sleepy time?

If you are a self-absorbed, deranged VC living in a parallel universe (much like Madonna et al) where the Sun (and all the planets-obviously, less poor demoted Pluto) revolves around you, then you quickly come to the realization that establishing a connection with your baby once a week most likely will interfere with your weekly athletic adventures. Clearly, there’s only one thing to be done. Ha! and it’s not what you are thinking, you human you…

Week 1
Single BFF: Are you up to play tennis this weekend or do you have to babysit?

Incubus: Psssshhhh, hell yeah, I’m up to it. Say, why doesn’t your fiancee stay with Pilar while we ride across the Golden Gate? Five hours tops. That way she can get her ‘baby’ fix… Then they could go to the Marina and hang out there in the grass. Oh, and she could do all of Pilar’s calisthenics which my wife is punctilious about, oh and also do the feedings. I’ll bring the baby food so your fiancee doesn’t have to buy anything. I mean why go through the rigmarole of arranging for a babysitter when your fiancee is available, right?

SBFF: Errr, so I asked my fiancee and turns out she’s more into her weekend sleep than your baby so I guess the answer is no. 

You would think this is the end of this, as a normal person would quickly catch the drift, and my dear reader, as usual, you would be wrong.

Week 2
SBFF: Tennis this Saturday, anyone?

I: I could, if and only if, your fiancee can watch Pilar while we play. A win/win.

SBFF: Gosh darnit, I didn’t see your reply on time and made other plans. Ah, another time then. Tut tut.

Today Incubus waltzed in (it is his custom to waltz into places with hands propped up on his hips or arms flailing about, or both) and handed me a pile of magazines.

Incubus: I get all these magazines at home and it has become frightfully…well it is just a mess! Ah and I tell you…

Beatrix Kiddo: The point please

I: So I want you to cancel them

Of course I have to do it so I politely take them out of his blessed hands and retreat bowing to my desk snatch them from his paws.

And then, AND THEN, I discover that they are all Succubuss subscriptions. Naturally, she cannot possibly take a break from pointing at flower vases for the maid to move to make 10 phone calls. Riding your house staff is serious business.

8:00am
Incubus hysterically flapping around the office asking where the coffee machine is. - In the kitchen counter, where it usually hangs out, duffus.

8:03am
Incubus comes out of kitchen with dumbfounded look. Where is the coffee? - On top of aforementioned coffee machine for Pete’s sake. Look the fuck around.

8:30am
Hysterical e-mail #2 about stupid package - Things haven’t changed one bit, online tracking still shows “Package being delivered today to your location.” Mkay.

9:00am

Meeting #1 - Go down to the lobby to get visitor into the building because fucking intercom to buzz him in is not working. Naturally.

9:25am
Incubus comes out of meeting to ask where his package is? - In the hands of the delivery guy. He insists I call the driver. Sure, let me pull the driver’s # out of my ass and I’ll get right on it.

10:00am
Meeting #2 - The fun up and down the elevator continues. After a whole month of having no meetings Incubus has decided to pile them all on the one day when I’m the busiest due to impending vacation. Fucking brilliant.

10:45am
Incubus ends his meeting abruptly and shoves woman out the door. He also wants to know if the package was delivered - Gee I haven’t heard that one before. Does the package contain the lost Holy Grail perhaps? No, it is his non-denominational holiday cards. Whee!

11:00am
Incubus goes out to lunch not before telling me that I have to print out his job hunting kit. 20 copies for an interview he has in another state a couple of days later - What’s the big deal you ask?

Whereas yours and mine will most likely contain 1 resume and possibly one other sheet of paper, what this mammal refers to as his resume kit is composed of:

• the resume (4 pages long)
• the press kit (80 pages long) - this is a compilation of all the shit he has talked to bored journalists over the years
• the deal sheet (100 pages long) - a compilation of all the deals he’s never done but is taking credit for nonetheless
• the picture album (30 pages long) - an homage to himself from the days when he hung out in an afro and tight baby blue shorts with a bunch of other dudes…I’m not kidding
• the digest of the company he is interviewing with (50-500 pages long) - this is like the spy report. For each person who works in the company he is interviewing with (so if 500 people, then 500 reports) I have to put together their bio, news articles, board of directors they serve on and what those companies do, who they sleep with (if available), if they are connected to Incubus through several networking sites, and if they have any weird sexual preferences. Well that last one is not true but I swear he’s going to ask me one day.

There goes my lunch. Instead I have to stay in and paste labels on all of this shit. I pray to the paper god so the printer cooperates and doesn’t take a shit as it is its custom.

1:00pm
Incubus is back from lunch with Succubus. At least he had the decency to make it a long lunch. The female demon proceeds to try and distract me from wrestling with the printer to ask me about the package. I shoot her the thousand yard stare and she retreats.

1:03pm
Incubus comes out of the bathroom and asks about the weather. Just kidding! It is naturally about the package. I track it online and it shows as “delivered and left at the front porch.” That sounds suspiciously like it was delivered at someone’s house so I ask him through gritted teeth “could it have possibly been sent to your house?” “Absolutely not” he says “I remember putting my work address.”

1:05pm
I call the delivery company where I quickly learn that it was sent to the demons’ lair. AS I FUCKING KNEW IT! Succubus calls their nanny who evidently speaks ZERO English. They must communicate about feedings and diaper changes through smoke signals. Ugh. I take the phone away from her and have the best conversation ever as we tear those assholes in half.

1:20pm
Incubus tells me that I need to ship some shit he sold on Ebay on Monday. I remind him I’ll be on vacation, the very one that he is forcing me to take because apparently one week of my miserly vacation being carried over would break the company books. Then he says “fine, I’ll use the assistant from our neighbor.” To this I counter “why don’t you, for once, pack the stuff you sold, take a big marker and write down the address, and take it down to the post office in the lobby?”

He stares at me as if this is not even within the realm of possibilities. I can see his eyes are starting to cross so I concede “I will do it on Monday but be advised I’m not counting Monday as a vacation day then.” Up your ass clown.

2:35pm
Incubus decides that he wants to have the mobile numbers of all the people in the office next door. Squeeze me? What on earth for?! “Oh, just in case I have an emergency and you are not here” he says. “Yeah, but they don’t work for you and wouldn’t be able to help you anyways” I counter. He still wants them. I go next door an request the digits. Hilarity ensues. I come back with their message which was long but I will shorten here for purposes of readability. The message is “NO.”

2:00pm
Incubus complains how he’s trying to export his contacts in Outlook but he doesn’t see the option. Of course you don’t. One more hour wasted troubleshooting his filthy laptop all while keeping an eye on the bleeping print job.

3:00pm
Meeting #3 - Yay! Let’s do the ride thing!

4:30pm
Incubus calls me into his office to go over “things.” Gggggrrrr. I’m working you fucker! He starts the meeting with:

Incubus: I know you don’t want to go on vacation…

Beatrix Kiddo: Oh no, I can’t wait to go. Trust me. I need this vacation

I: Well I need this stuff shipped

BK: I thought that matter was settled already. I’ll ship your crap.

I: Ok. I also need this extra piece of furniture in my office taken away (a 10 lbs desk)

BK: Why don’t we do it now? (so you stop whining about it already - Then he proceeds to stand by as I wrestle the desk out of its spot, lift it and put it in the hallway). Thanks for the help, really I couldn’t have done it without you

I: Next I’d like to hang my paintings and frames over the office

BK: Sure. That could be a great project for you while I’m gone (task deflected biatch)

I: There’s also a financing that needs to take place next Friday so I need help with that

BK: Negative, I’ll be on vacation

I: Well, everyone will be on vacation and it needs to be done. I’m not asking for anything special here, just faxing the forms to the bank buah buah buah

BK: (My one pet peeve in life is whiny people but especially men, drives me to insanity) Fine I’ll do it. However, I’d like to stress out how much I won’t be counting that Friday as a vacation day either.

I: Well that’s not really true, it would take you only minutes

BK: It is now (tread carefully big boy)

I: Ok

http://www.radaronline.com/exclusives/2008/09/sarah-palin-tina-fey-staurday-night-live.php

Beatrix Kiddo: Where?

I: See it appears that there’s one word that is not aligned with the rest of the others

BK: I see, the one that’s off by one letter to the right?

I: Yes that one. I think we need to reprocess the whole thing (because of course that is super easy to do, in fact I press this read button right here and…)

The least of your concerns should be the misaligned word. How about we focus on the Ending Capital Balance line that shows this -$7,899,541 on an investment of this much $15,000,000?

How about we prioritize?

Time Thief: So Beatrix my laptop broke

Beatrix Kiddo: (eye roll square) What is this? The 17th laptop? Are you trying to get into the Guiness Book of World Records?

TT: Well this time I think it is the hard drive. Doesn’t get recognized. Can you tinker with it?

BK: No. I’m not a computer expert. Can’t do (unless that is you want to pay me the $200/hour you pay the asshole computer guy)

TT: Well ok, just call Dell and get them to exchange it under the warranty

BK: That I can do

Three minutes later…

TT: Oh and tell them to send the latest model with double the gigabytes and RPMs

Sure. Off to the bin of “in your dreams cowboy.” For shits and giggles and because I love proving myself right I called Dell and asked exactly that…with the straightest face and level of composure I could muster. Luckily, Bon Qui Qui answered the phone on their side. So I put her on speaker and it sounded exactly like this:

Bon Qui Qui: Girrrrl, you trippin’?

BK: Well actually this is my boss’ request not mine. I already told him that this is not the way it works with exchanges

BQQ: Well, he dreaming or huat? If he wants to puts a claim under quarenty, he will be getting exactly whatevers was in the laptop before. When he first gotz it. No nothing extra. Exchanges are not upgrades. U-huh. Tell him to best be ordering a new one if he wants to do that. Shiiiiiiitttttt. Ha ha ha. He so funny. Child phluease!

Usually when I do this, Time Thief will fly over to my desk, jump in the conversation, and try to argue with the rep. This time…err not so much.

So I yelled “TT do you have any other questions about the battery?” Crickets crickets and deafening silence. I reckon no balls to throw it down with Bon Qui Qui.

Beatrix Kiddo: (munching through inhaling lunch) Hmmm…what?

TT: Yes, it’s totally messy. I’d like them to clean it up

BK: Sure (I’ll put it in the bin of “it never will happen”)

This deranged lunatic expects the landlord to dangle an employee from the roof of a 35th story down to the 27the floor of commercial building, which by the way got all its windows cleaned two months ago, to clean his window. One window! 1!!!

What.The.Fuck.