My boss is obsessed with the AIM WeeMee. Yes, the 40-year old Senior Vice President. Her WeeMee dances in a disco. So is our Director of Advertising Operations. His WeeMee is underwater and when he types "shark," a shark swims up and bites off his head. Our Digital Brand Manager's WeeMee has on a sunhat and is holding a chocolate bar, a red bag and a "Hillary" sign. The WeeMee of our Digital Advertising Director in Chicago is naked with three little leaves in all the right places, wearing a gold dollar-sign chain and carrying a pina colada and a sword. Mine is in outer space, wearing a basketball jersey (#23 for Terrence) and holding a "Vote for Colbert 2008" sign and carrying an "I am not a Plastic Bag" grocery bag. All the things I love in the WeeWorld. If I type "alien," an alien tears out of her little tummy, she shrieks and then dies for a second.
I [re-]designed it yesterday after weeks of my boss telling me that I needed to update my WeeMee, who was decked out in (RED) gear and standing on a city block next to a fire hydrant. "Update that shit!" she would say whenever she walked by my desk. You have to picture a sophisticated corporate New York woman, who favors Melanie Griffith and whose voice even sounds just like Griffith's in Working Girl (but not the same hairstyle; thank God).
On the way to our division's informal cocktail hour event the other evening, we were walking along 42nd Street to catch the D train down to the East Village, and my boss was discussing the complexities of creating a Wee Mee: "There are just so many options for tops and pants and dresses. And your legs are so short, you just can't tell how shit's going to look." I love working in corporate advertising.
Yesterday, on IM with Terrence, I encouraged him to make his own WeeMee. He's a 6'9" professional basketball player overseas; he didn't really seem interested. Today, I IMed him the link and told him to just check it out.
In between processing expense reports at my desk in Midtown Manhattan - and him sitting in his living room on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, the following conversations ensued:
Me (11:29:38 AM): are you making a WeeMee?
Him (11:30:08 AM): yeah, its hard finding a hair type like mine
Me (11:30:40 AM): LOL
Him (11:40:43 AM): and they dont have black hair so its gotta be brown
Me (11:30:43 AM): you can just put a hat on
Him (11:30:49 AM): i will
Him (11:35:59 AM): i aint gonna lie, this shit is kinda fun
Me (11:37:12 AM): it totally is
Him (11:49:32 AM): im thinkin about puttin mine in the gorilla body suit
Him (11:49:36 AM): should i?
Me (11:49:45 AM): yes
Him (11:54:33 AM): great
Him (11:57:01 AM): microphone or a gold chain?
Him (11:57:08 AM): i really like the gold chain
Me (11:57:12 AM): gold chain
Him (12:35:14 PM): im making a room for my weemee
Him (12:35:22 PM): sad
Me (12:39:15 PM): LOL
Him(12:39:40 PM): did u make a room for yours?
Me (12:40:05 PM): yes
Me (12:40:09 PM): ahem
Him (12:40:30 PM): LOL
Him (12:40:41 PM): LMAO
Him (12:41:35 PM): oh god that was funny
Me (12:42:24 PM): really?
Me (12:42:28 PM): that funny, huh?
Him (12:42:32 PM): yes
Him (12:42:41 PM): we are a bunch of big kids
Him (12:43:33 PM): nah, it was so funny cuz i remember seeing it yesterday and being like, yea yea, whatever
Him (12:43:34 PM): lol
Him (12:43:51 PM): then you sent me the link and i was like....ok ok, i'll take a look at it
Him (12:44:25 PM): 30 minutes later this lil dude has his own environment n shit, fitted up in the flyest gear and im wanting to do more
Him (12:44:46 PM): dont knock it til you try it
Him (12:44:50 PM): prime example
"Things I Love" Thursdays are inspired by "I Love New York" (BNY, February 14, 2007).