And it’s pretty quiet here today.  Outside our office, it’s snowing (kinda like in that happy jolly winter scene above) – but without the happy jolly shoppers, sledder and plump snowman.

No one’s here in Purchasing (they’re doing inventory at the warehouse):

Downstairs is pretty quiet today too….

Art Director, Mitch Nash, isn’t in yet either…although I KNOW he’s working – already had some emails from him this morning….

No one’s in the can either.

So, in the couple of days before Christmas, I want to wish all of our readers a very nice and quiet and lovely little happy holiday.

I’ll leave you with a little love from one of our amazingly prolific designers, Roy Fox.  He sent this card.  But I’m hijacking it for now.

Lisa from next door always gives the Blue Q office the cutest little holiday gifts around the holidays.

This year it was “Santa Pants”.  Filled with….balls.  Chocolate balls.  And kisses.  And other goodies.  Here is mine.

We all have ours.  Except Jenny and Jen both took theirs home.  By the way, this isn’t Jenny and Jen.  This is Sergio and Seth.  And they can be seen here posing with their pants.

Below, allow me to show you, a’la WHERE’S WALDO, almost everyone’s Santa Pants.  But not Jenny and Jen because as I said….they took theirs home.

With a festive blow up fruitcake!

Yoga mug, natural lotion, clementine and....Santa Pants!Perched and alert. Good Santa Pants, Good.

These pants is KICKED.

Pants. Unloaded.

Refashioned for the Blue Q office chocolate of choice.

It is my honor to introduce (drumroll please) Purchasing Manager and music commentator, Sergio Bencivenga.  A man who needs no (or probably wants no) introduction.

Take it away, Sergio:

Thanks, Art Star.

I have a firm belief: if you don’t like music. And you don’t listen to music. And you purposely keep it out of your life. You have no soul. No inner core. You are essentially a cardboard cutout of a human being.

With lots of UV coating, so you couldn’t even be recycled.

You’re mental.

I mean…what do you tap your feet to?  Bop your head to?  Hum along to?  Or don’t you???  Is it possible a subtle beat, string of lyrics, or jazz rhythm never enters your head? If so, do you swear it off, bang your head against the wall, and say 3 Hail Mary’s? You poor thing!

My Secret Santa has been leaving me little notes in reference to classic Rush songs.

 
I love Rush. Everyone in the office knows this, so it could be anyone. But it got me thinking about how much I love music. Not just Rush.  But music in general.

If music were a religion, I would follow it lock-step and would never miss a Sunday mass. Ever.

I introduced my kids to it at a very early age. Now they are 4 and 5. My daughter is a dancing machine (which is apparently illegal in some religions. Can you believe that?) and my son is absolutely obsessed with Rush.

I don’t care who your favorite band is. Genre? Could care less. Classsical? Country? Jazz? Christian?

Sigh…yeah…that’s music too I guess. Doesn’t matter.

All I care is that you listen to music. It’s everywhere. On the radio, TV, Elevator, Dentists office, blasting from the Blue Q office speakers, getting beamed via high tech satellites. EVERYWHERE. The only way you could possibly escape music is to purposely try to avoid it. And that’s just nuttier than a 3 legged cow with wings.

Music serves as my:
1) Inspiration
2) Psychiatrist
3) Outlet for many years of pent up anger and aggression
4) Drug (yup, you can get high off it)
5) Road Rage blanky when someone cuts me off in traffic ( “Road Rage Blanky”  – I just made that up!)
6) Etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.

My taste in music is vast. From classic Rush, Johnny Cash, and Pearl Jam to the complex lyrical and musical structure of Tool.

Sometimes, I need my music to be inspirational – other times soothing and calming like a nice warm cup of Chamomile. Then there are the days were I need my music heavy and fast – A no holds barred attitude that strikes you in the gut and delivers a firm uppercut to the jaw like a scene straight out of Fight Club.

And THAT my friends, is the beauty of music. Its ability to be whatever you want it to be.

I leave you with the backbone of Tool and one of the greatest drummers of all time:

Every year in the office we torture each other in the form of Secret Santa.  Pass around a hat, pull out a name, and try to subtly drive that person crazy till just before Christmas.  This year I passed the hat today.

Too early?  There are still inflatable turkey’s on my neighbors lawn.  Oh well….

I really like who I picked.  This person….this is an interesting person to have.  I can do interesting things.  I might torture a little.

It’s fine, really.  I try not to make a big deal about it because hey, come on, we all have our issues right?  But if we keep this Reggae station on longer than say, I don’t know….like….an hour or two, and I’m being generous here, then I might just dive-bomb your car with whatever is rotting in the fridge here.  Yes yes, we all get our chance to choose what we want on the radio here – shout out to Mr. Sonos, Sirius, Pandora  – but sometimes there’s only so much Red Red Wine Makes Me Feel So Fine I can handle.  Trust me, on a nice trip to the islands I’m TOTALLY on board with, who is this? Bob Marley?  Or, his son too?  He sings that crap too, right?  But like, if I’m not holding a frozen cocktail in my hand, one that’s been billed to my room overlooking the beach and the man of my dreams is wearing a conk shell tee-shirt stained from suntan oil then TURN THIS CRAP OFF THANK YOU.  I love you all.  I really do.

Everyone's a D.J.